Carpenter went to answer, but Slayne put a hand on his arm.
“Mr. Richter, have you ever killed anyone?” “Goodness, no, Mr.
Slayne. I’ve never even been in a fight.”
“I have. I’ve had to kill a number of times. Those who become Warriors will have to kill, too. It’s the single most important ability, for want of a better word, a Warrior must have. Now I ask you, which of us is better able to judge whether someone has that ability? You, who by your own admission has never harmed a soul in your life? Or someone like me, the head of a worldwide security firm, a former navy SEAL and deputy sheriff?”
Richter grinned sheepishly. “I get your point.”
“As for Professor Trevor,” Carpenter said, “I’ve relied on her judgment a great deal in the formulation of my plans. She designed the tests you took to qualify to be here. Her psychological assessment of Warrior applicants will be invaluable.”
He stopped and regarded the Family members a moment. “I know what some of you are thinking. That I’ve set myself up as your lord and master. But nothing could be further from the truth. I never make a decision without consulting those best able to give me advice. If the decision is important enough, if it affects our whole Family, then I give you my word that from this day on, I’ll put it to a vote so everyone can have their say.”
“That’s reasonable,” a woman declared.
A gust of wind hit Carpenter in the face. He glanced up. The sky seemed a darker shade of gray than it had been, and he would swear the gray was moving and rippling, almost as if it were alive.
A man waved a hand to get his attention. “Ed Batson, Kurt.
Nurse. I have no interest in being a Warrior. I like to save lives, not destroy them. But I also like to think I’m practical, and it occurs to me that it might be wise to encourage everyone to wear or carry firearms, especially if we venture outside these walls.”
The wind kept buffeting Carpenter. He gazed beyond the west wall and saw what he took to be rain in the distance. “You make a good point, Ed. Let’s make it a rule, shall we, that no one leaves the Home unless they are armed or have someone with them who is.”
An infant squealed and raised a tiny hand to the sky.
“When will we be able to go out?” an older man inquired. “The compound—sorry, our Home—has plenty of space, but I’d like to get out and about now and then.”
“First things first. We must get the Home in order before we venture beyond the safety of its walls.”
A small dark flake flitted out of the sky and landed on the grass.
“Is there anything any of you care to bring up?”
A woman with wavy red hair stood up. “Yes, there is. You can’t expect us to stay in the bunkers forever. It’s too crowded and there’s hardly any privacy. Where will we live once it’s safe to come out?”
Carpenter began to respond but stopped with his mouth half open as more flakes fell, some of them fluttering like butterflies. He reached out and a large flake landed on his palm.
It reminded him of ash.
“What in the world?” someone blurted.
A woman turned her head to the sky and gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”
Carpenter glanced up, too, and icy fingers gripped his heart.
The sky was filled with flakes. Not hundreds or thousands or hundreds of thousands but millions, descending in a quiet rain of potential death. For it wasn’t ash, he realized; it was nuclear fallout.
“God in heaven.”
Alpha Triad
Patrick Slayne instantly assumed command. “Everyone into their assigned bunkers! On your feet! Do it quick but do it orderly!
Move, people! Move!” He touched Carpenter, who was staring upward as if mesmerized. “That means you, too, Kurt. Get in C
Block.”
Carpenter tore his gaze from the deluge. He blinked and said, “The Family first.”
“A lot of us are expendable. You’re not.” Slayne motioned to Diana Trevor. “Get him in there. Push him if he won’t walk.”
Diana nodded and took hold of Carpenter’s wrist. “He’s right.
Your safety is paramount.”
The Family made an orderly dash for sanctuary as more and more flakes fluttered down, a dark snowfall, growing thicker and darker, moment by moment.
Slayne was furious with himself. He should have posted lookouts with orders to keep a watch on the sky as well as beyond the walls. His lapse might cost lives.
By now the ground was completely covered. Visibility was limited to twenty feet, at best.
“Faster!” Slayne shouted. “As fast as you can!” He moved among them, hastening them along. “Hold hands and call out if you lose your way!”
To their credit, no one panicked. Mothers clasped children and fathers shielded their young ones with their own bodies.
Slayne was the last to make for the Blocks. By then visibility was down to five feet. Cupping his hands, he bellowed, “Have someone standing next to each Block yell so the others can get their bearings.”
Almost immediately, some of those who had already reached the bunkers began calling out.
Slayne reached C Block. But he didn’t go in. He stood just outside, the fallout so thick he could barely see his hand at arm’s length, and listened to the shouting until it stopped. Then, shaking himself and brushing off flakes, he entered and nodded at two men waiting to shut the door. He made straight for the Com Center and contacted each of the other Blocks.
Everyone was accounted for.
A man ran up with a Geiger counter. “I’ve been checking like you said we always should when we come back in. The needle is jumping.”
Slayne confirmed it for himself. The fallout read high but not so high as to be life-threatening, except for a few hot particles. He barked commands. Everyone was to strip
