They tried the nearest door, but it was jammed shut, so they ran around to the front, and found that door wide open. Sarah ran inside. A lightning bolt smashed down behind her, sagging the roof over the porch, splintering one of the side posts as it streaked down into the ground. The shockwave blasted the front windows in a shower of dirty glass. Sarah turned away, covering her face, and when she looked out again, she realized she was in a blacksmith's shop. There was a large firepit in the center of the room, and above it all sorts of iron implements hanging from the ceiling.
And on the walls, she saw horseshoes, tongs, metal of all sorts.
This room was full of metal.
The thunder rumbled ominously. "We have to get out of here," Evans shouted. "This is the wrong place to--"
He never finished. The next bolt knocked him off his feet as it came crashing down through the ceiling, spinning the iron implements, then smashing into the firepit, blasting the bricks outward in all directions. Sarah ducked, covering her head and ears, felt bricks striking her shoulders, back, legs--knocking her over--and then there was a burst of pain in her forehead, and she saw brief stars before blackness settled over her and the rumble of thunder faded to endless silence.
FOREST
MONDAY, OCTOBER 11
11:11 A. M.
Kenner was fifteen miles away, driving east on Route 47, listening to Sarah's radio. Her transmitter was still on, clipped to her belt. It was hard to be sure what was happening because each lightning strike produced a burst of static that lasted for the next fifteen seconds. Nevertheless he understood the most important point--Evans and Sarah had gotten away from the SUV, but the lightning hadn't stopped. In fact it seemed that the lightning was following them.
Kenner had been yelling into his handset, trying to get Sarah's attention, but apparently she had turned her volume down, or was too busy dealing with what was happening in the ghost town. He kept saying, "It's following you!" over and over.
But she never answered.
Now there was a long burst of static, followed by silence. Kenner switched channels.
"Sanjong?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Have you been listening?"
"Yes."
"Where are you?" Kenner said.
"I am on Route 190, going north. I estimate I am three miles from the web."
"Any lightning yet?"
"No. But the rain has just started here. First drops on the windshield."
"Okay. Hang on."
He went back to Sarah's channel. There was still static, but it was fading.
"Sarah! Are you there? Sarah! Sarah!"
Kenner heard a cough, a distant cough.
"Sarah!"
A click. A bang. Someone fumbling with the radio. A cough. "This is Peter. Evans."
"What's happening there?"
"--dead."
"What?"
"She's dead. Sarah's dead. She got hit with a brick, and she fell and then there was a lightning strike that hit her full on the body and she's dead. I'm right here beside her. She's dead, oh shit, she's dead..."
"Try mouth-to-mouth."
"I'm telling you, she's dead."
"Peter. Mouth-to-mouth. "
"Oh God...She'sblue ..."
"That means she's alive, Peter."
"--like a corpse, a--corpse--"
"Peter, listen to me."
But Evans wasn't hearing anything. The idiot had his finger on the radio button. Kenner swore in frustration. And then suddenly a new blast of static. Kenner knew what it meant.
There had been another lightning strike. A bad one.
"Sanjong?"
Now, Kenner heard nothing but static on Sanjong's channel, too. It lasted ten seconds, fifteen seconds. So Sanjong had a strike, too. Only then did Kenner realize what must be causing it.
Sanjong came back, coughing.
"Are you all right?"
"I had a lightning strike. Very near the car. I cannot imagine, so close."
"Sanjong," Kenner said. "I think it's the radios."
"You think?"
"Where'd we get them?"
"I had them FedExed from DC."
"Package delivered to you personally?"
"No. To the motel. The owner gave it to me when I checked in...But the box was sealed..."
"Throw your radio away," Kenner said.
"There's no cellular net, we won't be in communic--"
Nothing more. Just a blast of static.
"Peter."
There was no answer. Only silence on the radio. Not even static now.
"Peter. Answer me. Peter. Are you there?"
Nothing. Dead.
Kenner waited a few moments. There was no answer from Evans.
The first drops of rain splashed on Kenner's windshield. He rolled down his window, and threw his radio away. It bounced on the pavement, and went into the grass on the other side of the road.
Kenner had gone another hundred yards down the road when a bolt of lightning crashed down behind him on the opposite side of the road.
It was the radios, all right.
Somebody had gotten to the radios. In DC? Or in Arizona? It was hard to know for sure, and at this point it didn't matter. Their carefully coordinated plan was now impossible to carry out. The situation was suddenly very dangerous. They had planned to hit all three rocket arrays at the same time. That would not happen now. Of course Kenner could still hit his array. If Sanjong was still alive, he might get to the second array, but their attack would not be coordinated. If one of them were later than the other, the second rocket team would have been informed by radio, and would be waiting with guns ready. Kenner had no doubt about that.
And Sarah and Evans were either dead or unable to function. Their car was broken down. Certainly they would never make it to the third array.
So. Just one rocket array taken out. Maybe two.
Would that be enough?