Chapter Eighteen

 

"What?" Doc said in his most testy tone of voice. Looking every inch the academic he once had been, he peered down his long nose at the interruption.

 

"Been gone for two hours now," Dean replied flatly. The boy was standing at the entrance flap of the tent, his head cocked at an angle, one hand on his hip and the other holding open the flap. For a brief moment, Doc had thought Ryan himself had already returned from his journey to the lair of Poseidon. Dean had the same sharp, narrow face. The same deep-set dark eyes. The same curly black hair.

 

The same confidence some would see as insolence.

 

"I'm well aware of the passage of time," Doc replied, closing the crumbling paperback book he'd been reading.

 

"What's the book?" Dean asked.

 

"A collection of poetry by T. S. Eliot. The title of the collection is The Waste Land and Other Poems ."

 

"Sounds like Deathlands," Dean observed.

 

"Yes, well, this is apt reading in our surroundings," Doc agreed.

 

"Where'd you get it?"

 

"They have a small library here. Mostly tripe. Blood-and-thunder adventure novels about men with action verbs for names and pink-and-lavender tinged bodice rippers of true historical romance," Doc said. "I noticed the bindings of the trashier books were the most worn, while this handsome gray-and-black thin little gem is still somewhat in one piece. Yes, a few worthy tomes were in the strongbox, and I couldn't resist reacquainting myself with Mr. Eliot's wonderfully written wisdom."

 

"Yeah, well, you ready?"

 

"For what?" Doc asked innocently.

 

"Ready to go. I been watching you, Doc. You're tougher than you look. You can walk."

 

"Thank you for the compliment, young man," Doc said. "Still, there's nothing we can do but waitjust as your father told you to do."

 

"Walking will do you some good," Dean continued. "We both know Dad's had enough time to get well ahead of us, Doc. He's probably already half there."

 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Voyages into the lion's den sometimes take longer than planned. Besides, I spoke with your father before his departure, and he said you had agreed to wait two days. A double hold, is how he put it to me."

 

"Actually he said a couple of days, Doc. Or mebbe he said a couple of hours. The way I look at it, a couple hours have long passed. Now, are you coming or do you want to stay here with the muties and the peace lovers?"

 

"You would do well to speak to your elders with a touch more respect, Dean," Doc said, a hint of flint sparking into his voice. He smiled tightly, showing off his perfect white teeth. "As evidenced yesterday with our hostess and now with me, you shall live much longer. I rather liked your flattery from a few moments ago. I would recommend you go back to the ploy of attempting to attract with sweet honey as opposed to vocal vinegar."

 

"No ploys. You coming or staying?"

 

"I'm trying to read." Doc sighed. "Readers are more educated, and as such, tend to be survivors."

 

"Yeah, well, we can't live forever, Doc. Even a time-traveling dog like you," Dean said, leaving Doc alone with his book.

 

Doc reopened the book and tried very hard to concentrate on the words of Eliotone of the few poets from the twentieth century that Doc actually liked but the poetry kept sliding off the page and out of his mind. Instead, he imagined Ryan's reaction if he found out Dean had been allowed to go off into the unknown alone.

 

'"I grow oldI grow oldI shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled,'" the old man read aloud as he stared down at the page. Doc pondered this for a full sixty seconds before he stood.

 

"I shall not!" he announced, looking at the cover of the book. "And yes, Mr. Eliot, I, Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner, do indeed dare to eat a peach!"

 

When Doc walked outside the tent, the Le Mat secure on his leg and the familiar black walking stick in one hand, Dean was waiting.

 

"Figured you might come around," Dean said.

 

"Have I become that predictable?" Doc lamented.

 

"No, but I was counting on you doing the right thing."

 

"The right thing is remaining here, safe and snug and fed," Doc replied. "But our friends have left us, and I suppose someone must play the role of cavalry."

 

"That's what I think."

 

"Let me return this book, and we shall be on our way," Doc said, stepping past the boy and heading for the storage tent where he had browsed through the small commune library.

 

"What changed your mind?" Dean asked, jogging to keep up with Doc's long strides.

 

"The mermaids, lad. The mermaids started singing to me."

 

Dean shook his head. There were times Doc didn't make a bit of sense.

 

"Why don't you keep the book, Doc? I doubt they'd ever miss it."

 

"Perhaps not. But who knows how many copies of this wonderful work survived the end of the civilized world?" Doc replied. "No, Mr. Eliot is much safer here with these good people than with me."

 

After Doc returned the copy of the book, he headed back toward the main road.

 

"Wrong way," Dean said.

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"Come on, I'll show you." The boy headed for the northern side of the commune, where the small farm and gardens were maintained.

 

"Excuse me, young Dean, but I believe the road to our destination is that way," Doc said, pointing southward.

 

"Got something to pick up first. Found out about it last night from Chico."

 

"And who is Chico?"

 

The pair now approached a small fenced area. A young Mexican boy about Dean's age was standing at the gate.

 

"He's Chico," Dean said. "He lives here on the commune. I met him last night while you all were meeting. I had a feeling Dad was going to stick me here while he went after that bastard who killed Krysty and Jak, so I talked to Chico about my problem."

 

"What did he say?" Doc asked.

 

"He didn't. He brought me here and introduced me to Santos."

 

The two boys stepped through the gate. Doc followed.

 

Inside the ring was a massive gray Appaloosa with a thick neck and stocky body.

 

"Meet Santos. Chico's going to let me borrow him," Dean told Doc. "Santos belonged to Chico's dad, who was one of the people chilled here a few years back by Poseidon."

 

Doc eyed the horse. "A most magnificentnot to mention, massivecreature."

 

"He can hold us both with no problem, right, Chico?" Dean reached up and stroked the creature's neck.

 

"Right," the boy replied. "He's a good horse."

 

"If you intended to travel by horseback, why did you lead me to think we were going to be walking?" Doc asked peevishly.

 

"Wanted to know how serious you were. If you were going to walk, I knew you weren't going to try and talk me out of going."

 

"It is not my role to talk you out of anything," Doc said. "I am not your parent."

 

"Aces on the line, Doc. That's what I thought!"

 

Doc took Dean to one side away from the boy and the animal. "And how do you propose to return this animal, in case, well, you know?"

 

"There's an old burned-out gas station on the way to the base," Dean said. "Chico's rode that far without his mom knowing. We're going to leave Santos there. If we haven't returned in a day or so, Chico will come out and get the horse back."

 

Doc scratched his head.

 

"You are a master schemer, Dean. I am not so sure expanding your education at the Brody school was such a good idea after all."

 

 

 

"WHAT CAN YOU TELL ME about this nuke sub Poseidon's got?" Ryan turned and asked the man who had identified himself as Edgerton.

 

Edgerton stayed silent, his body bouncing in the seat as the wag made its way back down the old two-lane blacktop toward Kings Point.

 

"Name, rank and serial number is all you're going to get, Cawdor," Carter said. "That was the drill when I ran with Poseidon."

 

"You were a merc for him?" J.B. asked from the driver's seat.

 

"For about a year. Got tired of the pecking order. Besides, I hate taking orders. I'd heard about the commune upstate and decided that way of life sounded a lot more appealing."

 

"Did you ever get near the sub?" Ryan asked the tattooed man.

 

"No, I wasn't classified." Carter replied. "It's a big bastard, between five and six hundred yards long. Supposed to run off a pressurized water reactor. That's what's powered by the nuke generator."

 

Carter continued. "As I understand it, and he did give us a briefing one time in case things went to hell in a hurry, inside the reactor are fuel rods that produce the needed energy by nuclear fission. The water from the pressurizer is superheated in the reactor core and passed to a heat exchanger where it creates the steam to power the turbines."

 

"What happens if the nuke engine goes off-line?"

 

"Sub should have backup diesel engines in case the reactor fails. Trick there is fuel, but I know Poseidon must have an ample supply since he's been running these wags back and forth."

 

"You want us to try and take out the sub first or the buildings?" Mildred asked.

 

"Buildings," Carter replied. "Or any big wags you see like this one. The submarine pens will be closely watched, but other sections are left open since there's nothing worth stealing. Hit as many as you can and make damned sure the timers are synchronized."

 

All in the wag but Edgerton checked their chronos.

 

"Midnight, and we're out of there and back to the wag. Even if all of the objectives aren't met."

 

"They will be," Shauna said as the last remnants of the compassionate woman the group had first met slid away and were replaced with the mind-set of an assassin. "Ryan and I have our own assignment."

 

"Sure you don't want to help us out, Edgerton?" Ryan asked. "You've seen what these blasters can do. Three of your pals down and dead. Could go easier for you if you cooperate."

 

"No, sir," the sweating enlisted man said.

 

"Fine. Keep your secrets." Ryan said. "I've never been a man for torture."

 

"Hold up," J.B. said from the front of the wag. "Coming up on something that looks like it might be the place."

 

Carter stepped forward for a look through one of the Land Rover's numerous ob slits. "Right, Dix. There's the rear gate. They should be expecting us with the fish fry."

 

"Okay, J.B., you and Edgerton here are going to switch places. Here's the drill. If Edgerton gets cute or tries to warn the guard at the gate in the booth, I chill him." Ryan stared the younger man down. "Edgerton takes us in and parks the wag in the normal drop spot, we tie him up and he lives to drive another day."

 

Ryan put on the mirrored sunglasses and helmet and took the passenger seat, aiming the muzzle of the SIG-Sauer at Edgerton's right side, just out of the field of vision if the man on the gate got too curious.

 

J.B. joined Mildred, Carter and Shauna in the rear of the wag, hidden until the door was opened and they chose to reveal themselves.

 

"Take us in," Ryan said coldly.

 

Edgerton hesitated.

 

Ryan poked him in the ribs with the blaster.

 

"I said, take us in," he repeated.

 

Edgerton shifted gears and let the Land Rover roll forward.

 

"But if you want to live, you'll get us into the base without a firefight," Ryan growled. "If this gets fucked up, I'll chill you myself."

 

Four minutes later, everything that could've gone wrongdid, and they were captured.