Jason Frost - Badlands

Suddenly the windows were dark with the Long Beach Halo swarming around them. The orange-yellow of the Halo mixed with the orange-yellow of the re-entry heat. It was almost beautiful, like fireworks viewed through a thick fog. Then they were through it and could see the airfield where they were supposed to land.

Steve began calling out the air speeds so Paige didn't have to keep scanning the instrument panels as closely. "350 knots…"

Paige adjusted the pitch.

"… 300… 250… 200…"

The airstrip spread out before them like a rocky carpet. They'd been warned that it might not be in good shape. It wasn't. The quakes had buckled sections, cracked other sections.

"Doesn't look good," Steve said.

"There's enough good left to make it."

"You're the boss," he said sarcastically.

They touched down at 185 knots with only the slightest bump and rolled smoothly down the runway, rocking occasionally when they hit a crack.

"Great landing, Paige," Bart said.

Paige hit the radio switch. "Come in, Houston."

Static answered back.

"Well, now we know why we've never been able to establish radio contact with the survivors here."

Steve and Paige began flipping switches, shutting down systems.

Bart unbuckled himself and gestured to Budd and La Porte. "You two follow me. Once I'm decontaminated, you're next. Let's go."

When the systems were all secured, Steve and Paige unbolted the metal locker in the downstairs cabin. Steve pried open the lid and handed Paige a 9mm H amp;K P9S side arm. She strapped her holster on, slammed a full clip into the gun, and jammed the gun into the holster.

"Well," Steve said.

Paige shrugged. "Yeah, well."

The hunt was officially on.

"So that's what they look like," Tracy said.

Eric nodded, drank from his canteen.

"It's different than I imagined. I don't know, bigger, I think. A lot bigger."

They laid belly-down in the rough weeds, their heads lifted just enough to peer at the parked Columbia. Not that there was anything suspicious to see. They'd only arrived an hour ago, but Eric calculated that the craft couldn't have touched down more than an hour before that. Still, there was no movement so far. No one had come out since they'd arrived.

Eric shaded his eyes with a folded yellow flyer. "Annie and I took the kids to Edwards Air Force Base to watch the Columbia land from its first flight. Runway twenty-three on Rogers Dry Lake."

"Must've been quite a show."

Eric smiled. "Yeah. The kids were kind of bored. Tim sulked because it meant missing a chess match and Jenny flirted with some boy whose parents had driven in all the way from Ohio. But Annie and I were acting like kids on our first date, staring up in the sky with our binoculars, nudging each other. Giggling. Funny, huh?"

Tracy felt that familiar surge of tenderness for him. And jealousy over Annie. Annie's dead, damn it, she wanted to scream. I'm not. And yet she didn't have the right. He treated her with love and respect. Still, there was something missing. That something he'd felt for Annie. "Yeah, funny."

Eric handed her the canteen. She took a swig.

"How much longer do we wait?"

He looked up at the sky. The Halo was darkening as night approached. "Should be dark enough soon. We can get closer then."

"Maybe they're already gone."

"I don't think so. They probably have to go through some medical process first to make sure the Halo didn't contaminate them."

Tracy handed the canteen back and sighed. "You think maybe they've got room for a couple more aboard that thing? Like when it takes off."

Eric looked at her, his smile gone, his eyes flat and cold. He didn't say anything, but she knew what he was thinking: He'd never leave without Tim.

"I didn't mean anything, Eric. Just daydreaming."

"I know, Trace. I know." He forced a smile for her.

They watched in silence for another forty minutes. The Long Beach Halo's bright orange-yellow haze faded into a dull gray night. A smear of faint light overhead marked the moon. But no stars. No universe outside this island.

"There," Tracy whispered excitedly, pointing.

A couple pairs of legs could be seen walking on the other side of the Columbia.

"Now what?" Tracy said.

Eric stood up with his crossbow. "Now we crash the party. Come on."

They started for the spacecraft.

Paige was the last through the decontamination chamber, a rather boring process made tolerable only by the fact that she'd brought along a copy of Miller's biography of Lyndon Johnson. It was the worst-kept secret among the astronauts that Paige had political ambitions once she left NASA. Some of the guys had taken to humming "Hail to the Chief" when she entered a room, but all in good fun. In the meantime, Paige immersed herself in political biographies, determined not to make the same mistakes others had made.

After everyone had been purified, changed and armed, Paige hefted her backpack onto her shoulders. She tightened the straps while Steve checked her belts and loops. Then he shrugged into his backpack and she checked his belts and loops.

"OK," Paige said, trying to keep the nervous excitement out of her voice, "this is it. Safari time."

Daryl Budd and Phil La Porte were already outside, securing the area. Each was armed with a laser-aimed HK 93.

Dr. Bart Piedmont leaned against his seat as he watched Steve and Paige check their side arms. Steve handed Paige a laser-aimed HK 93 and shouldered a Franchi SPAS 12 semiautomatic twelve-gauge shotgun.

"Nasty looking thing," Bart said, nodding at the SPAS.

"It'll do the job," Steve said.

"I've been thinking," Bart said, looking at Paige. "With the saturation of all those leaflets, I don't see where we'll have any trouble here. I think it would be a good idea if you took either Mutt or Jeff with you."

Paige shook her head. "You know the procedure, Bart."

"Yeah, but I also know that you have about forty-five hours left to find your father and/or his papers. Then I have to fly this bugger out of here. And I'm not nearly the pilot you are."

"That's for sure. Which is why I intend to be back with time to spare. I know where his cabin retreat is and all the best ways to get there. Hell, I spent a lot of summers up here with him. It's going to be a simple in-and-out operation. Trust me."

Bart smiled weakly. "Making campaign promises already, huh?"

"Practicing. Let's see how well I keep it. Meantime, you and the Hardy Boys down there are to keep this baby secure. Anyone comes near, don't ask them in for lunch. Kill them. Right?"

"Yeah, right."

"Besides, you'll have plenty to do while we're gone. NASA still expects you to collect data from the Halo and check out the environment. See if this place is even worth salvaging anymore."

Bart threw up his hands. "OK, OK. You two are on your own. Find Papa and get your ragged asses back. Seems quiet enough out there."

Paige and Steve started down the ladder to the ground.

Gunshots blasted through the night.

"Got him!" Daryl Budd hollered. "Fuckin' got him."

Eric had held his hands away from his body as he'd approached the Columbia, but his finger had still been hooked around the trigger of his crossbow. In less than a second he could snap the bow into place and fire the bolt. That was some small comfort.

The two men dressed in army fatigues and carrying HK 93s didn't see him immediately, so Eric called out to them. "Hey, fellas. I'm Sergeant Ben Turner, Air Force recruiter out of San Jose. Sure am glad to see you boys. It's been a hell of a-"

Eric watched them swivel toward him, their HK 93s at their shoulders, a tiny red light beaming into the night toward him. He looked down, saw the red dot slide across the grass in front of him, run up his pants leg, and rest right in the middle of his chest.