Read Online Stormworld by Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor
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softly.
Benitar Jackson sighed. “The ones that got away will be back, with more. They’ll keep battering us, but they have to get through that narrow entrance, and I’ll fight them with everything I’ve got.” He paused. “I have more guns, you know.”
Abe nodded slowly. Then he gave the Director a long, beseeching stare. “What if they bring their own guns next time, Benitar? What if men come, not just boys? Some of them may be seeking revenge.”
To Benitar, the tone had a dull, leaden chill to it. The questions made the situation bluntly clear to him, and crystallized the challenge he faced here, and the enemies he had to overcome.
Benitar looked at the bodies on the stairs, then at Abe, Belinda, and Peggy. Finally, he glared at Jimmy Hansik, who had bloodied hands and glass shards on his clothing.
Abe said again, slowly, deliberately, “Well what about it, Benitar? What happens next?” Now he spoke in a condescending, scolding tone, as if addressing a child who had misbehaved.
Feeling oddly detached, Benitar snapped a new clip full of bullets into his gun. The hand that held the weapon seemed to take on a life of its own, and he realized that he could only follow it, doing its sacred bidding. For several moments the hand pointed the barrel randomly—up, down, back, forth, and to the side as if the hand was acting independent of Benitar’s consciousness and whatever it did was not the Director’s fault.
To him, it seemed that one direction was as good as another, and one was as useless as another. He walked down the stairs to the main floor of the seed repository, stepping past the bodies, then continued down the hallway and into his own room, where he quietly closed the door behind him.
In shock and dismay, Peggy and her companions stared after him. Finally Peggy, with a hand on her pregnant belly, said in a soft, plaintive tone, “Boys. They were just boys—.”
CHAPTER 13
Dreams and Responsibilities
It was the far side of midnight when Abe, Jimmy, Peggy, and Belinda wrapped up the bodies in orange plastic bags and put them in the freezer section of a cavernous cooling chamber that was used for food storage and the preservation of certain seeds, as well as tubers, roots, and bulbs. As they completed the grim task, no one spoke, but Peggy thought of the others who had fallen outside, and wished she could go out and check on them. But she was pregnant and couldn’t take such a risk. Besides, it would endanger the seed bank, making it even more vulnerable to attack. She hated thinking like Benitar Jackson, a man who would do anything to advance his cause, a man whose ethics were laced with violence.
After closing the door to the cooler, Peggy and Abe parted company, each going to their own small sleeping quarters. Belinda and Jimmy went into the room where they had been co-habiting.
* * *
As Belinda Amar drifted off to sleep, she dreamed that she was back in her house again, overlooking Hood Canal. It was a cool, cloudy day like so many others, and she had a good fire going in the green, ceramic-framed fireplace. Her cat Phylum purred beside her on the couch, while her golden retriever Genus snoozed on the floor.
Looking up from a book on her lap, Belinda gazed around her wonderful little Victorian home, at the expensive art on the walls, and then looked out the window at her classic old Mercedes coupe, parked at the curb in front. She felt fortunate to have so much, and was proud of herself for having earned it all. Her life was perfect, almost untarnished. Focusing back on the book, however, the words began to vanish, sentence by sentence. Anxiously, she turned the pages, one after the other, but all of them were the same, with vanishing words.
The book slipped from her grasp, thudded onto the floor. Beside her, Phylum had died, and was rotting before her eyes, a horrendous death in fast forward. Belinda shrieked, jumped up, and felt her heart beating wildly. She wanted to run, but
Benitar Jackson sighed. “The ones that got away will be back, with more. They’ll keep battering us, but they have to get through that narrow entrance, and I’ll fight them with everything I’ve got.” He paused. “I have more guns, you know.”
Abe nodded slowly. Then he gave the Director a long, beseeching stare. “What if they bring their own guns next time, Benitar? What if men come, not just boys? Some of them may be seeking revenge.”
To Benitar, the tone had a dull, leaden chill to it. The questions made the situation bluntly clear to him, and crystallized the challenge he faced here, and the enemies he had to overcome.
Benitar looked at the bodies on the stairs, then at Abe, Belinda, and Peggy. Finally, he glared at Jimmy Hansik, who had bloodied hands and glass shards on his clothing.
Abe said again, slowly, deliberately, “Well what about it, Benitar? What happens next?” Now he spoke in a condescending, scolding tone, as if addressing a child who had misbehaved.
Feeling oddly detached, Benitar snapped a new clip full of bullets into his gun. The hand that held the weapon seemed to take on a life of its own, and he realized that he could only follow it, doing its sacred bidding. For several moments the hand pointed the barrel randomly—up, down, back, forth, and to the side as if the hand was acting independent of Benitar’s consciousness and whatever it did was not the Director’s fault.
To him, it seemed that one direction was as good as another, and one was as useless as another. He walked down the stairs to the main floor of the seed repository, stepping past the bodies, then continued down the hallway and into his own room, where he quietly closed the door behind him.
In shock and dismay, Peggy and her companions stared after him. Finally Peggy, with a hand on her pregnant belly, said in a soft, plaintive tone, “Boys. They were just boys—.”
CHAPTER 13
Dreams and Responsibilities
It was the far side of midnight when Abe, Jimmy, Peggy, and Belinda wrapped up the bodies in orange plastic bags and put them in the freezer section of a cavernous cooling chamber that was used for food storage and the preservation of certain seeds, as well as tubers, roots, and bulbs. As they completed the grim task, no one spoke, but Peggy thought of the others who had fallen outside, and wished she could go out and check on them. But she was pregnant and couldn’t take such a risk. Besides, it would endanger the seed bank, making it even more vulnerable to attack. She hated thinking like Benitar Jackson, a man who would do anything to advance his cause, a man whose ethics were laced with violence.
After closing the door to the cooler, Peggy and Abe parted company, each going to their own small sleeping quarters. Belinda and Jimmy went into the room where they had been co-habiting.
* * *
As Belinda Amar drifted off to sleep, she dreamed that she was back in her house again, overlooking Hood Canal. It was a cool, cloudy day like so many others, and she had a good fire going in the green, ceramic-framed fireplace. Her cat Phylum purred beside her on the couch, while her golden retriever Genus snoozed on the floor.
Looking up from a book on her lap, Belinda gazed around her wonderful little Victorian home, at the expensive art on the walls, and then looked out the window at her classic old Mercedes coupe, parked at the curb in front. She felt fortunate to have so much, and was proud of herself for having earned it all. Her life was perfect, almost untarnished. Focusing back on the book, however, the words began to vanish, sentence by sentence. Anxiously, she turned the pages, one after the other, but all of them were the same, with vanishing words.
The book slipped from her grasp, thudded onto the floor. Beside her, Phylum had died, and was rotting before her eyes, a horrendous death in fast forward. Belinda shrieked, jumped up, and felt her heart beating wildly. She wanted to run, but
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