EMERGENCE Read Online Free Page A

could use indirect approach. Not lie; just not mention that any book suggested undoubtedly available on moment's notice. Ought to fool him all of ten seconds.
    Started toward switchboard to power-down shelter. Hand touching first switch in sequence when row of red lights began flashing, three large bells on wall next to panel commenced deafening clangor. Snatched hand back as if from hot stove; thought had activated burglar alarm (if reaction included thought at all). Feverish inspection of panel disclosed no hint of such, but found switch marked "Alarm Bells, North American Air Defense Command Alert." Opened quickly; relieved to note cessation of din, but lights continued flashing. Then, as watched, second row labeled "Attack Detected," began flashing.
    Problem with being genius is tendency to think deep, mull hidden significance, overlook obvious. Retrieved Terry (as usual, had gone for help at first loud noise), scratched head to soothe nerves. Twin replied, "That's bad!" several times; dug claws into shoulder, flapped wings to show had not really been scared. Requested settle down, shut up; wished to contemplate implications of board.
    Impressive. Daddy must be truly high-up closet VIP to rate such inside data supplied to home shelter. As considered this, another row flashed on, this labeled "Retaliation Initiated." Imagine—blow-by-blow nuclear-war info updates supplied to own home! Wonderful to be so important. Amazing man. And so modest—all these years never let on. Wondered about real function in government. With such brains, was probably head of supersecret spy bureau in charge of dozens of James Bond types.
    Don't know how long mindless rumination went on; finally something clicked in head: Attack? Retaliation? Hey . . . ! Bolted for steps. Terry sunk -in claws, voiced protest over sudden movements.
    Stopped like statue. Daddy's voice, tinny, obviously recording: "Red alert, radiation detected. Level above danger limit. Shelter will seal in thirty seconds—29, 28, 27 . . ." Stood frozen; listened as familiar voice delivered requiem for everything known and loved—including probably self. Interrupted count once at 15-second mark to repeat radiation warning, again at five seconds.
    Then came deep-toned humming; powerful motors slid blocks of concrete, steel, asbestos across top of stairwell, did same for emergency-entry chute. Sealing process terminated with solidly mechanical clunks, thuds. Motors whined in momentary overload as program ensured was tight.
    Then truly alone. Stood staring at nothing for long minutes. Did not know when silent tears began; noticed wet face when Terry sampled, found too salty. Shook head; said softly, "Poo-oor bay-bee. . . ."
    Presently found self sitting in chair. Radio on; could not remember turning switch, locating CONELRAD frequency. Just sat, listened to reports. Only time stirred was to feed, water Terry; use potty. Station on air yet, but manned only first three days.
    Was enough, told story: Mankind eliminated. Radiation, man-made disease. International quick-draw ended in tie.
    Final voice on air weakly complained situation didn't make sense: Was speaking from defense headquarters near Denver—miles underground, utterly bombproof, airtight; self-contained air, water—so why dying? Why last alive in entire installation? Didn't make sense. . . .
    Agreed, but thought objection too limited in scope. Also wondered why we were still alive. Likewise didn't make sense: If invulnerability of NORAD headquarters—located just this side of Earth's core under Cheyenne Mountain—proving ineffective, how come fancy subcellar hidey-hole under house in small town still keeping occupants alive? And for how long?. Figured had to be just matter of time.
    Therefore became obsessed with worry over fate of retarded brother. Were safe from radiation (it seemed); but plague another matter. Doubted would affect avian biochemistry; would kill me, leave poor baby to starve, die of thirst. Agonized