William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

Maureen pressed up against Ben. He cradled her in his arms. “I don’t want to die,” she said, her voice choking. “Especially not by-” Her voice broke off before she completed the sentence.

“We can’t give up,” Ben said. “We have to keep trying.”

“Trying what?” Slade shook his head. “It’s over, Kincaid. Might as well walk into the flames and get it over with.”

“I won’t accept that.” He felt Maureen pressing into the crook of his neck, felt the tears spilling from her eyes. “We have to think about this logically.”

“Logic!” Maureen laughed bitterly.

He pushed her away, holding her by the arms. “Look, what are our options?”

“We don’t have any.”

“Yes we do. If we can’t go through the flames, then we either go under them or over them.”

Slade stared at him incredulously. “Under them? Forget it, Kincaid. Even if we all worked together and had the proper tools-which we don’t-we couldn’t dig a tunnel under those flames in time. We’d be dead before we got anywhere.”

“Agreed,” Ben said. His brain was racing, barely one beat ahead of his mouth. “So we have to go over.”

“Over?” Maureen said incredulously. “Unless you’ve got a red cape under that suit, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“I can’t fly, but a helicopter can. A copter could get in here and fly us out before the flames close in.”

“You’re dreaming, Kincaid,” Slade said. “There probably aren’t any copters within a hundred miles of this backwater.”

“There are,” Ben said firmly. “Two, in fact. Sheriff Allen told me. He flies one himself. They use them for mountain rescues.”

Maureen looked up at Ben for the first time since he’d started talking. Despite the crushing heat all around them, Ben saw the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes. “But how do we call the helicopters here?”

“That’s what I don’t know,” Ben said. “I’m sure eventually someone will report the fire. But by then it will be too late.”

“A radio!” Slade slapped his hands together. “A radio!”

Ben rushed toward him. “Do you have one?”

“Yes. I mean, I think so. I’ve seen it in the closet. It isn’t mine. One of the other men-”

“Never mind that,” Ben said curtly. “Show us.”

Slade led the way back into the cabin, running as fast as he could go. The circle of flame was growing detectably closer on all sides. Already Ben was beginning to feel singed, burned. Maureen’s face was a bright red. And the smoke was so much thicker he could hardly breathe.

They would be dead even before the flames got to them, Ben realized. They’d be dead even sooner than they thought.

Slade led the way to a back room. He rooted around in the closet for several seconds, pushing aside dirty clothes and trash. Eventually he emerged with a large rectangular metal box.

“I think this is a radio,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

Maureen took it from him and set it on a nearby table. “It sure as hell is.”

“But I don’t know how to work it.”

“Don’t worry. I do.” She glanced up at Ben. “Communications is my field, remember? This is a pretty simple shortwave setup. The owner is probably a ham radio hobbyist. We’ll use the emergency channels; someone should be monitoring. The signal should be strong enough-”

She turned a knob on the front of the set and waited.

Nothing happened.

She clicked it back, then tried again. Nothing happened.

“Damn!” Muttering under her breath, she reached toward the back of the set till she found the catches that released the metal casing. She lifted the lid off and stared at the contents.

“What’s wrong?” Slade asked. Ben could feel the edge in his voice. For an instant, it had seemed as if they actually had some chance of survival. And now-

“No power.”

Slade stared at Maureen. “No power? But-”

Maureen pointed. “The battery’s dead.” She turned toward Ben, then took his hand and squeezed. “And so are we.”

“No power,” Slade said, to no one in particular. His eyes seemed dark and vacant. “No power.”

“I’m afraid that’s the size of it,” Maureen said, batting back tears. “I like to think of myself as a miracle worker. But even I can’t make a radio work without power.”

“No power,” Slade mumbled. He staggered, leaning against the wall. “No power.”

Ben couldn’t believe it. This horrible man who had once stood so tall and defiant-now he was babbling like an escaped mental patient. All of his toughness, all of his swagger and menace-it was all gone now. There was nothing left but a pathetic wretch who realized he was facing death.

“Isn’t there some way to recharge the batteries?” Ben asked.

“They’re not rechargeable,” Maureen answered.

“Maybe there are some other batteries.”

Maureen rummaged through the closet. “Sorry. Nothing.”

“Damn.” Ben bit down on a knuckle. There had to be something. Something he was missing, something he hadn’t thought of. But what?

“It’s over,” Slade said. His face seemed to disintegrate; those strong chiseled features were melting away. “It’s over.”

“Get a grip,” Ben said, disgusted.

Slade didn’t hear him. He began to laugh, a bitter, eerie laugh. “After all I’ve done, all my plans …” He laughed even louder. “And now it comes down to this. Burning alive in some godforsaken shack in a goddamn forest!”

“Stop it, Slade,” Ben said. “Stop it now.”

Slade continued his maniacal laughter, even louder and creepier than before. “You just don’t get it, do you? We’re doomed. We’re going to die in flames, in our own personal hell. Do you know what it is to burn to death? Do you have any idea how painful it is?”

“Stop it!” Ben shouted. Sweat flew off his face. He was feeling it, too-the heat, the sense of desperation. It would be much easier to be like Slade, to just relent. To give up. But if he did that, they were all finished.

“There must be some other way,” Ben said. “There must be some other means of generating power.”

“Power,” Slade murmured, wiping his eyes.

“Right. Some other way to power the radio.”

Slade’s hand pressed against his chest. Ben could see he was having trouble breathing. The smoke was everywhere. “There’s a-a-”

Ben squatted beside him. “What?”

“A-” He took a deep breath. “An emergency generator. In the other room. But that powers the lights, the fuses …”

“The radio has an AC plug!” Maureen shouted. “It could work. If you’ve got an extension cord and you could get some juice in the fuse … it just might work!”

Slade seemed stunned, dazed, as if he couldn’t process the information quickly enough. “It can’t …” he mumbled, barely rational. “Can’t-”

Ben jerked him to his feet. “Come on, Slade. Show me where the generator is. Now !”

Ten minutes later, they had the generator going. Maureen found an extension cord, plugged the radio in, and began broadcasting. It wasn’t easy. She had to try several frequencies, and broadcast conditions weren’t ideal. For one thing, they were atop a mountain, deep in a forest. For another, they were surrounded by flames. Fortunately Maureen knew what she was doing.

During the tense minutes Maureen spent broadcasting her signal, Ben managed to bite every fingernail he had down to the nub. “Damn!” Her voice was cracking with desperation. “I’m not getting anything.”

“But are they getting you?” Ben asked. “That’s the important thing.”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell. I’m not hearing anything.”