They had only seen a portion of the compound up to then, and Laila soon became lost in the shacks and cabins, but Maria seemed to have an instinct for how to get to the tower. What they could do once they reached it, she couldn't begin to imagine. A switch, or a lever? If the tower was powered by a dormant volcano, how could you switch off a volcano? A volcano! As if this island wasn't terrifying enough!
They had to stop often for Maria to catch her breath. Back in the outside world, she probably wouldn't have been allowed out of a hospital bed for days, maybe even weeks, but here she was, hobbling toward an uncertain destination. Laila couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they had stayed on that beach. That peaceful beach. Except for the threat of half a plane exploding, of course. Not that she had even heard it explode, yet. Did the strange events and this 'Philadelphia Experiment' even explain that?
Laila wished they could get to this stupid tower soon because she wasn't certain how much longer she could act as support for Maria. She wasn't strong like the pilot. The backpack she had, foolishly, insisted on carrying weighed heavy on her back and, though she didn't resent it, Maria's weight on her shoulder felt as though Laila's legs were about to give out, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
"Wait. In there." Maria's keen eyes managed to see something Laila hadn't. "Armoury."
"What for? You already have a rifle and a pistol." Despite the protest, she hefted Maria up with her arm around the pilot's waist. "What are you going to do? Shoot our own people if that time thing happens again?"
"Maybe. I'm not just going to let them shoot me again." She fell against the wall as they reached the building. "Besides, this rifle sucks and, I don't know, maybe we might need explosives."
"Explosives? Are you crazy!" Laila tried to haul Maria back up, determined that that wasn't going to happen. "No. Nope. Not happening. We'll just switch it off. There'll be a switch with 'Off' written on it. Switch it off, go back to the beach and hope someone rescues us."
Maria, despite the injury, showed far greater strength than Laila. She dug her heels in and resisted any attempt to move her. She looked exhausted and clearly wasn't thinking straight. For all either of them knew, Maria could be bleeding internally, or the wound had become infected, or there was still bullet fragments rattling around inside her. They shouldn't be doing this. Any of it, but what could Laila do? She was only a performer. She sang incredible songs to screaming fans. She didn't go around shooting people or blowing up towers.
"What if that thing goes off again? Huh? What if, next time, it doesn't send us back to World War Two, but further back? Or the island just disappears like it almost did before? What then?" Maria leaned over, sweat beading on her forehead. "And ... and I don't think there'll be rescue any time soon, anyway. We're not stopping this thing to get away from the island. We're stopping it because I think this could get worse."
"How could it possibly get worse? If you haven't noticed, we're stuck on an island that does the kind of freaky crap that happens only in movies!" She turned away to glare at the tower poking up over the roofs of the nearby buildings. "That ... thing is messing about with time and we're trapped in it! You've been shot, we have no way off the island and I'm wearing army clothes and boots! Look at me! My hair's an utter mess! How much worse can it get?"
"End of the world?" Maria had paled again, taking deep breaths, leaning heavy on the rifle. "Think about it. This thing has been doing ... whatever it's doing, for eighty years. Have you heard anything about it? Mysterious disappearances? Strange storms? Time going crazy?"
"The Bermuda Triangle!" Laila had heard of that and she wagged a triumphant finger toward Maria. "Planes have been going missing there for years."
"One, that's on the other side of the US, and, two, that's been debunked even more than this Eldridge thing. Ships and planes go through the triangle all the time. Hundreds of times a day." She shook her head. "No. This is different. I think this thing, this problem, is breaking down. Eighty years will do that. I think it's getting close to going nuclear, or whatever the equivalent is, and if that happens, we have no idea what the consequences for the world could be."
She groaned, wincing, and slid down the wall, clutching at her side, the rifle falling from her hands to clatter against the wall, and Laila almost leapt to try and catch her. This wasn't good. Couldn't be good at all. She needed a doctor. On an island, who knew where in the world, and Laila started to think that the tower wasn't all that important after all. Biting her lip, brushing Maria's short hair from her forehead, she began to look around.
That little room couldn't be the only medical facility for a base this big. They had to have hospital facilities somewhere and if it was anything like the rest of the base, it should still have pretty much everything still in it. Maybe antibiotics, maybe pain killers, at least. Maybe a doctor that had miraculously managed to survive eighty years alone on this island. Okay, perhaps not the last one, but the other things were at least possible.
"Screw the world and screw that tower." She moved to look along the rows of buildings, searching for a Red Cross. "Where would the hospital be in a base like this?"
"Forget about that!" Grimacing, Maria pushed herself up, using the wall for support. "We have to stop that machine even if it isn't apocalyptic."
"I said screw it!" She almost screeched that and didn't even think about her vocal chords. They were probably ruined anyway. "What's the point of saving the world if I lose you?"
Her voice started to break and she had that uncomfortable feeling once again. Caring for other people hurt. Life was so much easier when she could look down on people and not give a damn whether they were well or ill, whether they had enough money to live or not. Other people were not important. She was. She was important and she only cared about herself. It had served her well throughout her life.
And this woman came along, all hard-as-nails and annoying, frustrating, gruff, obstinate, and beautiful and sweet and ... Laila flapped her hand, turning away, not wanting Maria to see her cry because she'd already done that too many times since arriving on this island and it was starting to become a habit. A hand fell upon her shoulder and she reached up to touch it with her own, only to hear the zip open on the backpack and the hand to slide away. She turned, slowly, wiping her eyes, to find Maria taking a drink of water.
"You're not going to lose me. I'm tired, yeah, exerting myself more than I probably should, but I'll live." She shuffled around, pointing to a padlocked door. "Help me bust that open."
"I thought you were dying." It came as a complete surprise that she could still find the pilot annoying when she wanted to. "I still say we should ..."
"No." Maria caught Laila with a look that said she was not taking any arguments. "The tower."
Feeling more than a little petulant, Laila pouted as she stomped past Maria to look at the padlock. It looked rusted solid but might break if she hit it with something hard enough and she started to look around for a rock or something, only to hear the thunk of something striking against the door. She turned to find Maria digging the tip of the rifle's barrel into the tiny gap between the padlock and the door before snorting in frustration, turning the rifle around and battering the padlock with the butt. After a few hits, both padlock and the rifle butt broke apart, but Maria had the door open.
"I thought you wanted me to help." Laila found Maria a very confusing person. She removed the remains of the padlock from the door and tugged it open, allowing Maria inside.
"I wanted you to feel useful." Maria's voice echoed within the building and Laila followed.
As with the barracks, this building still had lights, thanks, somehow, to that volcano, she supposed, and when the lights burst on within, Laila could see she hadn't really paid any attention. It wasn't a low-ceilinged building like the place they had spent the night, but an enormous warehouse, with large, drooping lights blazing down from the metal struts and beams of the roof.
All around, in strict, regimented rows and columns, sat crate after crate. Some made of wood, like ordinary packing containers, others made out of metal, with big latches keeping lids closed and the contents safe. Maria limped from box to box, laying the now-ruined rifle atop one of them as she passed before reaching one crate that looked no different to any other. She stopped before that one and looked around until she spotted a crowbar on a nearby shelf. She grunted and winced as she dug the flat end under the crate's lid and Laila rushed to help.
Nails creaked and squealed as they withdrew from the crate and Maria tipped the lid away to the side, revealing what looked like straw sat atop weapons that seemed to glisten with oil. Packed away to last some time, by the looks of it, and considering how long ago they were packed. Maria lifted one, fingers tracing over the metal before putting it back and taking another. Then another. All returned to the crate and Maria leaned against the container.
"It's all worthless. Eighty years. Even locked in here, oiled up. Rusted sights and barrels. All of 'em." She slammed the heel of her hand against the crate. "It was a long shot. If the guns are ruined, the bullets'll be worse. Dammit! And so will the explosives."
"It's okay." Laila tested how annoyed Maria was by reaching out a hand for the pilot's shoulder. "We'll find another way. It was a stupid idea anyway."
Maria shot a sharp look toward Laila, but then the look softened and she gave a little laugh before sighing, reaching down to pat one of the weapons in the crate. Laila didn't know the difference between them, if she had to admit it. There were ends you pointed away from you, and things that you squeezed, not pulled, apparently, but, apart from that, they all looked pretty much the same. It seemed Maria liked this weapon, though.
"I always wanted to let rip with a Thompson." She laughed, turning away. "My papa used to love the old movies, you know? Cagney, Bogart, Edward G Robinson?"
Laila had no idea who any of those people were. About to say as much, the pit of her stomach lurched as the siren began once again. She snapped her eyes toward Maria and it seemed like they both had the same idea. If they went back in time now, in here, they would almost certainly get shot. Military types didn't take kindly to people touching their guns. Hitching her shoulder under Maria's arm, they began to rush back to the door as the mournful wail of the siren rose and fell, but they couldn't reach the door in time before that other noise came.
It sounded even louder than before, penetrating deep into Laila's body, seeming to make her bones and her organs thrum and rattle inside. She began to retch, ready to vomit and her head became fuzzy and confused. She felt herself stumbling, Maria falling away, but she couldn't let her go again, not after what had happened the last time.
Forcing her eyes to stay open, she ignored the feeling of the world tumbling around her and tried to focus upon the shape of Maria. She, too, looked toward Laila and they both reached hands out to each other, but it felt as though the space between them stretched and contorted, becoming twisted like a pretzel.
"Don't leave me!" Her screams tumbled away, carried by a wind that didn't exist as she continued to stretch out to Maria. "Not this time!"
It felt as though the entire world had inserted itself between her and Maria, but she refused to give in. She only needed a touch. Just a touch and they could stay together.
Just one touch.