Free Stormworld by Brian Herbert, Bruce Taylor Page A

bunker, supposedly impregnable against atomic attacks. In reality, the aircraft had to be a personal escape capsule for Jackson, capable of transporting him (and perhaps a sampling of seeds) away for whatever reason he deemed necessary.
    Despite all of the efforts and concerns by Benitar and his crew, Peggy didn’t sense anything holy or sacred about this bunker. Rather, she felt the stench of evil all around, a dark and foreboding presence trying to sneak and batter its way in, intending to kill and destroy everything. She and Rosie were in the worst possible place, facing tremendous danger.
    That morning, Benitar had distributed handguns to Abe and Jimmy. At least that was a small step in the right direction, Peggy thought. But a few guns and limited ammunition against a mob intent on breaking in? It was only a matter of time before they broke through that defective blast door again. The beleaguered defenders didn’t have enough firepower to keep them out forever.
    As the young mother paused over her journal, she became aware of tears falling on the open page, smearing the red ink. The image of Abe came to her, and she thanked God for him. She knew he loved her, not out of desperation, but because he really felt that way, even though he had not put it into words yet, undoubtedly because the continuing crisis prevented clear thinking processes and commitments. She wondered if she loved him herself, but likewise she had not uttered the words, had not dared to do so under the circumstances. It was like a war zone around here, forcing personal relationships to the wayside.
    Finally she put some of her feelings for Abe on the page, then set the pen down and pushed her notebook aside. What a dismal, dead-end place this was to finally discover love, when it was so ephemeral and she couldn’t enjoy it fully. And how unfair it was to her baby.
    She whispered to her sleeping child, “I wish I could promise you a long life, but I cannot. I can only assure you that you have been born into love, and I will protect you for as long as I can. That is all a mother can offer you, and hopefully in the end it will be enough. Oh, Rosie how I wish I could promise more.”
    Sapped of energy, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Presently, the baroque vision of the stylized sun came over her again, followed by the moon eclipsing it. But this time the corona burned and flared suddenly with ferocious brilliance, like a final burst of energy from a dying sun.

CHAPTER 15
    The Escape Capsule

    Hearing a tremendous commotion outside his room, Abe yanked open the door and hurried into the corridor, carrying the silver-and-black .38 pistol that the crazed Director had given to him. He had heard these sounds before, and knew it was another attempt to get in.
    Abe raced to the bottom of the staircase and looked up at the door, reinforced with heavy planking nailed from the inside. Would it hold this time? To his horror, he saw the thick barricade shake more than ever before, from repeated blows on the other side.
    He became aware of people around him, including Benitar Jackson, who put a foot on the bottom stair and pointed another handgun up at the door. “They can’t get in!” he shouted, but he didn’t sound confident. His dark gaze darted around wildly. The man had the look of madness about him.
    Abe scratched an itch on the back of his neck, felt a raw spot from a nervous habit he had developed in recent days. “I pray that you’re right, but prayers don’t seem to offer much protection anymore.”
    Belinda joined the others, and down the corridor Abe saw Peggy standing in her own doorway, a rare moment when the doting mother wasn’t holding her baby or otherwise tending to it. “There must be something else we can do,” Belinda said. She looked distraught, and Abe knew why. Only an hour ago, Jimmy Hansik had been found dead in one of the storerooms, apparently poisoned by botulism in a can of salmon. Under the circumstances, with