The Last Oracle (Sigma Force 5)

“Ape,” Rosauro corrected with a sigh, as if she was tired of correcting the man. “A chimpanzee.”

“It’s Marta,” Monk said.

Gray heard the pain in his voice. A storm of radiation had to be surging through there. The figure moved slowly, slipping, knuckling awkwardly, already sick.

“What’s she trying to do?” Gray asked.

“Trying to save us all,” Monk answered.

Pyotr stayed with Marta. He pulled her flame close to his, not enough to be consumed, but so he could feed her his strength, let her know what she had to do, that she wasn’t alone. Likewise, he caught glimpses through her eyes, through her sharper senses.

He saw the column of roaring water. He felt a heat weakening and burning Marta. The air smelled like rotting fish and frightened both of them, a flow of dark water, from their shared nightmares.

Deadlier than any river.

But they faced it together.

Marta skirted around the gaping hole that swallowed the water so thirstily. It had to be stopped.

There was only one way.

Pyotr knew and told Marta. Konstantin had explained in detail how all the equipment worked: about the explosive charges, about the radio transmitters, about the giant silo doors.

He had also told Pyotr about the lever.

Marta needed no help. She spotted the rod of steel behind a piece of equipment. It could close the silo doors and stop the flow into the heart of the world. Pyotr felt the soft hoots of fear coming from her. He felt them under his own ribs.

You can do it, Marta…

She struggled, her skin burned, her fur fell like pine needles, her knuckles blistered in contact with the spray of water on the rock.

Pyotr held her flame and willed her strength.

She reached the lever. It was tilted close to the floor. It needed to be raised straight up. She hunched a shoulder under it, gripped the length with both hands, and heaved with her legs.

The steel would not move.

As death flowed behind her in a burning current, Pyotr felt the strain in her back, in her legs, in her heart.

Her flame flickered in his hands.

Marta…

But the lever would not move.

Monk watched Marta struggle with the lever. She was too weak. It would not budge. Pyotr began breathing hard, sharing the old chimpanzee’s fear and pain.

“Why won’t it move?” Gray asked.

“C’mon, you damn monkey!” Kowalski yelled.

Monk leaned closer, placing his own palm on the screen. He tried to remember the brief glimpse into the room as he had hurried past. As he strained, a sharp jab of electric pain shot through his head. Images from another time and place flashed.

…a man covered in coal soot…a plunging ride in an ore car…a white grin against dusty skin…that’s a boy!…just like, Daddy…

Then it was gone.

Monk struggled to retain something, but like a dream upon waking, memory began to dissolve through his fingers. Why did that particular memory dredge up? Buried in it must be something important.

As the memory faded, he caught a glimpse of that coal-dust-covered man slowing the ore car by squeezing the—

“Hand brake!” he gasped out.

He flashed back to the brief peek into the mine site before. He pictured the lever. It’d had a handgrip at its end.

Monk turned to Pyotr. He leaned and whispered in his feverish ear. “Marta must reach to the end of the lever. She must squeeze the handle. Then it will move for her.”

Pyotr continued to stare, as if deaf to his words, and maybe the boy truly could not hear. Monk had to get him to listen.

Seeming to understand his frustration, the woman Rosauro stepped next to him. “How are they communicating? Telepathically?”

“No. I think empathically. Sharing emotions. I’ve seen him do it with her before. Just not at such a distance.”

“Then you’ll have to reach him the same way.”

Monk glanced at her, as if she were a madwoman.

Gray spoke. “Rosauro’s specialty is neurology. Listen to her.”

The woman spoke slowly. “Empathy is all about sensation and tactility. You might be able to reach them the same way. Offer something that comforts him. It may open a path.”

Monk pictured Pyotr and Marta. They had been always touching, rubbing, grazing against each other, but Monk remembered what brought the boy the greatest sense of security and comfort.

Shifting, he wrapped his arms around Pyotr as he had seen Marta do so often. He felt the boy’s heart race like a hummingbird’s. Rocking the boy very gently, Monk huffed in his ear and whispered what must be done.

He willed it with all his heart.

Squeeze the hand brake…

Pyotr stayed with Marta as she struggled with the lever—then felt a familiar warmth coming from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found a strong heart there, casting a fierce flame. He stared into that fire and sensed what must be done as much as he heard it.

He turned back to Marta and clasped to her, letting her know, too.

But his friend trembled and burned, growing so weak.

Please…

She hooted, scared, but one of her large hands slid up the lever and found the grip there. Long fingers wrapped around it and squeezed. Then she heaved again, shouldering the lever and pushing with her legs.

The lever moved, but it was still heavy. With shaking limbs, she fought it straight up and shoved it back. Something snapped loudly.

A great grind of gears sounded.

Exhausted and spent, Marta slumped to the ground.

“She did it!” Gray said.

On the screen, the hole in the floor began closing, snipping off the stream with a steel iris. The river of water, no longer able to drain below, flooded into the mining chamber.

The chimpanzee was flushed out of the room and into the tunnel, but more and more water followed. Though clearly exhausted and burned, she gained her feet and swung atop the train car. As black water rose around her, she loped back and forth across the roof, scribing a path of panic and distress.

Gray’s heart went out to the poor creature.

“Get that damned monkey out of there, for Christ’s sake!” Kowalski bellowed. He slammed a fist on the broken control board.

But there was nothing they could do. The doors were jammed, and water was swiftly filling the tunnel, which was sealed at both ends. Even if they could open the doors, the radiation level would kill them all. And ultimately, the chimpanzee had already been exposed to many times the lethal dosage.

Rosauro turned her back and stepped away, covering her mouth with concern.

Finally, the old chimpanzee settled to her haunches, hugging her knees. She began to rock. She knew what was coming.