J.B. nodded. “Apart from the long words, it sounds right to me, Doc. The Cific just poured inland for hundreds of miles in some places.”
“Tsunamismonster tidal waves,” Doc said. “I would speculate that the loss of life along the entire California coast was total. A flat one hundred percent.”
“So, what’s there now?” Mildred asked, looking at J.B. “Islands?”
“We never went there very often,” he replied, glancing, in turn, to Trader.
“Hot spots and the worst muties in Deathlands. Human and fucking animals.” He lifted his Armalite to his shoulder and mimed opening up with it. “Best if the whole place was chilled.”
“Well,” said Ryan, “that’s my guess.”
“Must be open if smell outside air,” Jak stated. “Could be anyone in here.”
“Or anything,” Trader suggested.
THE END OF THE CORRIDOR came more quickly than any of them expected, less than fifty yards around a slight curve, beyond where Jak had caught the whiff of sulfur.
“Not another elevator!” Krysty said. “I really hate the trapped-in feeling.”
“Look on the bright side.” Dean grinned. “Might not be working, and we can all go back and make another jump. Wouldn’t that be a hot pipe?”
“No,” his father said angrily, “it wouldn’t.”
They hadn’t passed any other corners or doors, so this single elevator represented the only way out. It was larger than usual, wide enough to take a small arma-wag.
“Not coded,” J.B. observed. “Just the standard arrows for up and down.”
“I guess we want to go up.” Ryan was feeling better, but his original desire for a hot bath, food and a bed was still there. His wet clothes had virtually dried on him, with a faint smell of mold.
“Want to come back onto the point?” J.B. asked, gesturing to Ryan with the Uzi.
“No. You stay there. ‘Better’ isn’t the same as ‘well.’ Everyone keep alert.”
The Armorer reached out and pressed the silver arrow that pointed upward.
Nothing happened.
“How do we know we want to go up?” Mildred asked, smiling nervously as everyone turned to look at her. “Well, it’s just a question. How do we know the gateway isn’t at the top of the redoubt instead of at the bottom?”
“Because they’ve almost always been at the lowest level,” J.B. replied, his glasses flashing in the stark neon light. “Security, I guess.”
“Why not press ‘down,’ just in case,” Ryan suggested.
J.B. did, but nothing happened.
“All right,” Mildred said. “All right. Just a thought, that’s all.”
“Force the doors,” Abe offered.
“Agreed,” Trader said loudly. “Over, under, around or through. Let’s go through.”
” Wait!” Ryan had to shout to stop Trader and Abe from ramming against the locked doors of the elevator.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Take it easy, Trader. Might be we’ll try breaking them down. Best to stand off and think a little first. Could easily be the controls have jammed up.”
The older man shook his head, turning away and farting noisily. Sniggering at his own wit, he said, “Let’s have a thinking, stinking time?”
“If you work real hard, Trader, for a few years,” Mildred said, “I reckon you might eventually be able to become a pure half-wit.”
The insult simply made him laugh longer and louder.
During the exchange, J.B. had been working patiently at the elevator controls.
“Got it,” he called. “I can hear machinery.” He placed his hand flat on the mat-finish metal door. “Yeah, I can feel the vibration of it.”
“Double red,” Ryan said into the sudden stillness. “Get ready for when the doors open.”
They fanned out into a half circle, each gripping his or her favored weapon. A white strip above the door was lighted from behind, a maroon pointer showed the progress of the car toward them.
“Over halfway,” Dean said.
“Three-quarters,” Doc stated.
“No more talk,” Ryan warned. “Don’t want to give any warning that we’re here.”
The pointer slowed as the elevator neared the bottom of the steep shaft. Ryan had been counting, and he calculated that it had to be around one hundred and fifty feet to the top.
There was a faint but audible jolting noise as the car finally stopped.
Nothing happened for several long moments.