Eve of Destruction by Patrick Carman Page B

against the door with my back, sliding down to the floor, where I sat staring at the concrete.
    â€œCalm down, Will. They’re not going anywhere until you unlock the doors.”
    â€œWhy are you making us do this?” I pleaded.
    â€œI already told you. So I can kill Rainsford.”
    â€œBut you don’t even know where he went! This is insane.”
    â€œI have little doubt that he’ll be back. It’s only a matter of time.”
    I stood up, reached into my pocket, and felt the thing that I had found in the woods.
    He’s already back, you fool.
    He’s back and he’s going to kill you first.
    I didn’t know for sure he’d returned, but it was a possibility. One thing was for sure: Mrs. Eve Goring wasn’t alone at Fort Eden.
    She looked at her watch and then back at me, an icy resolve in her voice.
    â€œYou don’t have a lot of time. Hours, not days, Will.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œThere’s no water down there you’d want anyone to drink. And there is some radiation, trace amounts, but enough to cause some problems if you stay too long.”
    â€œI’m not telling them that.”
    â€œI figured as much. You do like your secrets, Will.”
    Maybe she was right. Maybe I did like holding my cards close to my chest, but what good would it do them to know they were gulping down mouthfuls of deadly air with every breath? It would be panic. Better they didn’t know.
    â€œHow long do I have to finish this errand for you?” I asked.
    Mrs. Goring glanced at her watch again, and when I expected an answer, she turned to the left as if surprised by something. I thought I heard a knock, but I couldn’t be sure where it came from. Was it from outside the observation room door or from the bomb shelter?
    â€œI have to go,” she said nervously. “Open the blue door first and send two of them through. Only two, no more. Once they’re on the other side, lock them out. Don’t send anyone else yet. The controls are self-explanatory. Do as you’re told and this will all be over before you know it. I’ll check back in half an hour.”
    â€œWait—I’m not locking anyone—”
    The screen went dead before I could finish what I was going to say, and I listened as the muffled pounding outside the door continued.
    Mrs. Goring was gone.
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    6 Alex was the third guy to get cured at Ford Eden. He was afraid of dogs because of an incident when he was a kid. If you want to see his cure, I posted it. After the cure his legs kept going to sleep on him, you know, like when you wake up and you can’t feel your big toe and when it comes back it’s needles and pins? Like that. It’s like he’s sixteen, but his circulation is seventy years old. Check it: www.willbesting.com, password throwmeabone .
    7 I spent a lot of time in Mrs. Goring’s bomb shelter. If you want to see what it looks like, I have pictures: www.willbesting.com. Password: bombshelter .

3:30 PM–4:00 PM
    I didn’t really have a choice, at least that’s what I told myself. She’d leave us all to die if I didn’t get what she wanted. But I also didn’t think it was going to be useful to freak everyone out by getting into the actual gravity of the situation. If I managed to get everyone out alive, I could tell them later, when less was at stake, and they’d forgive me. At least I hoped they would.
    The control panel for the room was like a giant surveillance system switchboard. If it hadn’t been for the hazardous situation I was in, I think I could have spent all day checking that thing out. It was retro-cool, covered in mechanical doodads that hadn’t been touched in ages. There were clunky, round knobs begging to be pushed, and levers that looked like gearshifts for tiny race cars sticking out all over the place. Dials, meters, buttons, and red glass covering bulbs designed