White Death

He stopped talking at a soft rustling in the woods. It was only Pablo returning. He said that he had found what looked like an empty garage. Inside there were signs of human habitation, scraps of food, slop buckets and blankets that might have been used to sleep on. He handed Austin an object that made Austin's jaw go hard. It was a child's doll.

They waited for Diego to appear, and when he did show up, they saw why he was late. He was bent low, carrying a heavy burden across his shoulders. He stood up, and an unconscious guard crashed to the ground. "You said to neutralize anyone who got in the way, but I thought this pig might be more useful alive."

"Where did you find him?"

"He was in a barracks for the guards. Maybe one or two hundred bunks. This thing was taking a siesta."

"Bet it's the last time he sleeps on the job," Austin said. He got down on one knee and flashed his light in the guard's face. The high cheekbones and wide mouth were indistinguishable from the other guards he had seen, except that he had a bruised forehead. Austin stood and unscrewed the top of a canteen. He took a sip, then poured water onto the guard's face. The heavy features stirred and the eyes fluttered open. They widened when they saw the guns pointed at his head.

"Where are the prisoners?" Austin said. He held the doll out so the guard could see what he wanted.

The man's lips spread wide in a mirthless grin, and the dark eyes seemed to glow like fa

Diego saw that he was getting nowhere, and switched around, putting his foot on the man's face and his gun jammed into the man s crotch. The man's eyes widened and he mumbled something in his language.

"Speak English," Diego said, and jammed the gun harder. The guard caught his breath. "The lake," he gasped. "In the lake." Diego smiled. "Even a pig wants to keep his cojones he said. He removed the gun, turned it around and slammed the butt down. There was a sickening hollow sound, and the guard's head lolled like that of the doll still clutched in Austin's hand.

Austin flinched, but he had no sympathy for the guard. He was too busy pondering the frightful possibilities for the prisoners. "Sweet dreams," he said with a shrug. "Lead the way," Pablo said.

"Since we're slightly outnumbered, this may be a good time to call in the reserves," Zavala said.

Pablo undipped the radio from his belt and ordered the SeaCo- bra pilot to hover a mile away. Austin tucked the doll inside his shirt. Then, with the others following, he hurried in the direction of the lake, determined to return the doll to its rightful owner.

35

WHEN THE GUARDS had burst into the garage prison brandishing truncheons, Marcus Ryan was huddled with Jesse Nighthawk. He had been probing the Indian's knowledge of the forest so that he could put together an escape plan. Ryan's hopes were dashed as the guards, at least two dozen of them, clubbed the pris- oners at random. Most of the Indians were used to the sporadic beat- ings aimed to discourage resistance, and they cowered against the far wall. But Ryan was slow to move, and blows rained down on his shoulders and head.

Therri had been playing with a little girl named Rachael, when the door burst open and the makeshift prison was suddenly filled with shouts and swinging clubs. Rachael was about five years old, the youngest child in the group, and like many of the villagers, she was part of Ben's extended family. Therri stepped between one of the at- tackers and the little girl, and braced herself for the blow to come. The guard froze, confused at the unexpected show of defiance. Then he laughed and lowered his upraised club. He glared at Therri with pitiless eyes. "For that, you and the girl will go first."

He called out to one of his companions, who grabbed Therri by the hair. She was pushed facedown onto the floor, and a club was pressed across the back of her neck. Her hands were bound behind her back with wire that cut painfully into her wrists. Then she was pulled to her feet and saw Marcus and Chuck, whose heads were bloodied from the club blows.

When all the prisoners had been trussed like hogs, the guards herded them through the doorway and marched them through the woods. They walked through the woods for several minutes, until the dull sheen of the lake was visible through the trees. Although it seemed like several days, only a few hours had passed since they had been captured.

They were shoved into a shed near the lake and left alone. They stood in the darkened building, the children whimpering, the older people trying to comfort the younger ones with their stoic attitude. The fear of the unknown was even more torturous than being beaten. Then there was a commotion at the door, which opened to admit Barker, surrounded by a contingent of his inscrutable guards. He had removed his sunglasses, and Therri saw the strangely pale eyes for the first time. They were the color of a rattlesnake belly, she thought. Some of the guards carried blazing torches, and Barker's eyes seemed to glitter in the flickering light. His face was wreathed in a satanic smile.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said, with the geniality of a tour guide. "Thank you for coming. Within a few minutes, I will rise high above this place on the first phase of a journey into the fu- ture. I wish to thank you all for helping to get this project launched. To those of you from SOS, I wish you'd been in my hands earlier, so that by the sweat of your labor you would come to appreciate the bril- liance of this plan."

Ryan had regained his composure. "Cut the crap. What do you in- tend to do with us?"

Barker surveyed Ryan's bloodied face as if he were seeing it for the first time. "Why, Mr. Ryan, you're looking a little rumpled these days. Not your usual blow-dried self."

"You haven't answered my question."

"To the contrary, I answered it when you were first brought to me. I said you and your friends would remain alive as long as I found you useful." He smiled again. "I no longer find you useful. I'm having the air dome lit up for your entertainment. It will be the last thing your dying brain will record."

The words chilled Therri to the bone. "What about the children?" she said.

"What about them?" Barker's icy gaze swept the prisoners as ifj

surveying cattle being led to slaughter. "Do you think I care for any one of you, young or old? You are nothing more to me than snow- flakes. You'll all be forgotten once the world learns that an insignif- icant Eskimo tribe controls a significant portion of the ocean. Sorry I can't stay. Our timetable is very precise."

He spun on his heel and disappeared into the night. The prison- ers were rounded up and herded outside and toward the lake. Mo- ments later, their steps echoed on the long wooden pier. The dock was in darkness, except for the lights on what looked like a barge, only with a catamaran hull. As they moved closer, Therri saw that a con- veyor belt, flush with the deck, led from a bin in the bow to a wide chute at the stern end. She surmised that the strange craft must be used as a moveable feeding station. The feed went into the bin, and was transported via the belt and dumped into the fish cages through the chute. An awful thought came to her, and she yelled a warning: