Pax had called ahead, so when he and Ash arrived at the hotel, Robert had already gathered everyone in the largest meeting room available. There were some handshakes, a lot of hellos, and a few inevitable grumbles of dissatisfaction with the living arrangements. As the others took their seats, Pax and Ash moved to the front of the room.
“Well, as I warned you on the plane, the weather here’s only slightly cooler than what you’d been experiencing back on the island,” Pax said.
A smattering of laughter.
“Can’t say it’ll be getting much warmer anytime soon,” he said. “But the good news is, you are all safe.”
A few people clapped.
“How long are we going to have to stay here?” someone shouted.
Several others said, “Shhh.”
“It’s all right,” Pax said. “A natural question. First off, you can leave anytime you want. There are cars on every street. All you have to do is get in one and drive away. No one will stop you, but if something happens to you, no one will be around to help you, either. For those who choose to stay, I’m not going to lie to you and give you any kind of time frame. Truth is, we have no idea when you’ll be able to get out of here. We do plan on finding someplace more permanent, but other matters are taking precedence right now.”
He looked around the room before launching into what he’d really come to say. “Without outside help, none of you would be alive today. I’m not saying that to gain a cheap pat on the back. I’m saying it because it is a fact. It’s also a fact that others like you are out there. We have people scattered around the globe trying to help them, but we can’t be everywhere.” He could see he had everyone’s full attention now. “I’d like to tell you about one of the survival stations and what’s been happening there…”
Pax’s story about Los Angeles was greeted with shocked stares and more than a few tears. Even though Robert and his fellow Isabella Island survivors had seen firsthand what Project Eden could do, it still seemed so incredible, so unbelievably horrible.
Robert could barely hold in his own emotions upon hearing about people who had voluntarily gone to the station, thinking they were going to get help, only to have their lives taken. Estella was a wreck, leaning against him, her wet cheeks pressed against his arm.
When Pax finished the story, he said, “I tell you all this because we have an opportunity here to do something right. At least twenty people are still being held there that we can get out. We have some people on the ground keeping an eye on things, but there are too few of them to make a move. What we need is help, and that’s why I’ve come to you.”
“Wait, are you — what do you call it? — forcing us into your army?” The question came from Bertrand Tailler, the same asshole who had almost made Robert miss the plane. He was sitting alone in the back corner.
“No, not at all,” Pax told him in a much calmer voice than Robert would have used. “What I’m saying is, we need volunteers. Military training is a plus, but it’s not necessary. If you don’t want to volunteer, that’s completely fine. No judgment. Any questions?”
There were a few, mostly about the danger involved.
“Yes, there’s a chance someone will get hurt.” Pax said. “Will anyone die? It’s a distinct possibility. This isn’t the old world anymore. Our lives will never be as comfortable as they used to be.”
“You expect people to volunteer to die?” Bertrand said. “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you,” Pax said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Anyone else have something they want to say?”
A few indistinct whispers, but no more questions.
“All right, then. We’ll do this the simple way. If you’re willing to volunteer, raise your hand.”
No hands shot up.
Robert looked around, wondering what was wrong with these people. Pax and his friends had saved them. If the Resistance needed help, they should get it.
That’s when he realized he had yet to raise his own hand. He lifted it into the air. He didn’t know how much help he could be — he’d been scared to death when he went after the hijackers on the Albino Mer—but he figured he could do something.
Estella sat up straight and raised her own hand.
Ash watched as hands rose like a reverse game of tumbling dominoes. Even two of the people who’d become sick after receiving the vaccine, but had improved enough to come to the meeting, volunteered. Pax thanked them but excused them from service.
Ash and Pax had been hoping for fifteen people. The final tally was thirty-seven.
They gave everyone time to gather their things, then loaded the volunteers onto one of the buses that had ferried the group up from Las Vegas. With Pax behind the wheel, they headed for Ward Mountain, where everyone would be equipped as best as possible before heading for the airplanes that would take them to Los Angeles.
A few miles out of Ely, Pax reached under his seat and pulled out the bag he’d brought along. “Sat phone’s ringing,” he said, tossing the pack over to where Ash was standing.
Ash pulled the phone out and hit ACCEPT.
“This is Ash.”
“What the hell happened to you?” Chloe did not sound happy. “I’ve been trying to call you for like an hour.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong,” she said. “Caleb’s decoded the entire message.”
“Fantastic. What’s it—”
“Do you want to know the best part?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“Fine, I’ll wait until you get back. You are coming back, aren’t you?”
“What’s the best part?”
It wasn’t hard to imagine the sly smile on her face as she said, “I said when you get back.”
“Chloe!”
“Okay, okay. We know where Dream Sky is.”
While ash had expected Chloe to be with Caleb when he and Pax entered the conference room, Rachel’s presence was a surprise.
He almost asked if she was all right but stopped himself. Instead, he said, “I’m glad to see you.”
She nodded, a quick, humorless smile gracing her lips.
Pax walked up to her and put his arms around her, whispering something Ash couldn’t hear.
When they parted, she said, “Thank you.” In a louder voice, “We should start.”
Chloe looked at Caleb. “Tell them.”
“Right. Okay, so some of the messages were confusing the hell out of me,” Caleb said as he grabbed one of the journals on the table. He flipped through a few pages, then turned the book so everyone could see. It was one of entries that had a sequence of numbers at the end. He pointed at the numbers. “Every once in a while when I decrypted one of these, there would still be a few numbers left. Anywhere from one to three digits. At first I figured they were placeholders and concentrated on the bigger messages.”
“And?” Ash asked.
Caleb traded the journal for a well-used legal pad. “I’ve got all the messages right here.” He tossed it into the center of the table. “It’s one sided, though. Just the responses Matt received. As far as I can tell, he didn’t keep a record of his side of things. Still, you can pretty much figure out what they were talking about.
“The earlier messages all concern the what and where of DS. And before you ask, he never says Dream Sky, only uses the initials and sometimes not even that. At one point, C8 says he thinks it might be a secret supply dump. Later he suggests it’s a weapon of some kind. He throws out a bunch of other possibilities, too. Apparently Matt had an idea of what it was, but C8 didn’t agree. He kept saying things like there was no way Matt was right, and he could find no proof of Matt’s theory, and even went so far as to tell Matt that he had to be wrong and they were wasting time pursuing the idea. They did agree that from the secrecy surrounding it, it seems to be a key to the Project’s success. They don’t mention why they believe this, but if you read between the lines, it’s pretty clear it’s based on something Matt had known when he was still on the inside. Which, by the way, still blows my mind that he was part of them. How could he hide it from—”