Bombshell by Max Collins (most life changing books .TXT) 📗

even as pain shot through his wounded shoulder, a sensation Nikita ignored—he had suffered much worse at the battle of Kharkov.

Soon the path they were on grew dark, and Nikita wondered where they were going, when a large signpost sprouted like a skinny tree among the sleeping flowers, one word on its rocket-shaped face: Tomorrowland.

That was where he had wanted to go most of all in Disneyland! Soviet Intelligence had told him to keep a sharp eye out for any new technology he might spy there.

The path curved to the right, and they were rounding the bend, when a fantastic sight stopped Nikita in his tracks.

Silhouetted against the night sky was the top of a rocket ship, like a sleek white bombshell striped red and blue, with the letters TWA on its side. So they did have rocket launching pads here! Why had his son-in-law not told him!

As Nikita stood transfixed, mouth agape, Marilyn tugged at his pajama sleeve. “Come on,” she whispered. “This is no time for sightseeing—we have to find a place to hide!”

Nikita picked up his pace as the path curved around a man-made waterway, only to halt once again in amazement.

They had come to a lagoon where several old-fashioned steamboats were docked; but more importantly, many submarines were submerged but visible there—never would Nikita have imagined that a whole fleet would be hidden away in a “children’s”

park! This explained much about the “last minute” cancellation of his visit to Disneyland. This Eisenhower was more clever that he had thought.

“Nikkie!” Marilyn whispered urgently, beckoning him with a finger, eyebrows riding high on her forehead. “Hurry!”

He caught up to her. Soon the pathway came to an end at a large white building where a movie-type poster bore a picture of the sleek spaceship, as well as the words:

ROCKET TO THE MOON

Blast Off

Aboard a Rocketship

On a Thrilling Trip

To the Moon And Return to Earth

So clever—concealing the rocket right out in the open, just another “attraction,” another “ride.” Soviet Intelligence had much to answer for.

The structure displaying this and other “TOMORROWLAND” posters had a peculiar modernistic shape, with a curved roof and two big round balls growing out of it, reminding Nikita of the two-headed giant in a Russian fairy tale. He had supervised the design of many new facilities in Moscow and considered this so-called “building of tomorrow” very impractical … unless the domes held some technological secrets and were perhaps laden with explosives.

While Marilyn ran to the front entrance of the futuristic building to see if they could get inside, Nikita turned his attention to what was next to it: the spaceship. That razor still clasped in his hand, he stayed alert as he approached the craft, which rose dramatically into the sky, nose poking at the stars on this clear, moonswept night.

Upon closer inspection, however, the spaceship didn’t seem as tall as it had looked from a distance—standing seventy feet at best—not like their towering Russian rockets. And this one had little circular windows running all the way from the bottom to the top—what could be the purpose of these? Why would any ship need windows where its rocket boosters were? Who would be looking out?

Nikita moved beneath the craft, between its three legs, and gazed up.

And where were the rocket boosters? There didn’t seem to be any… Could the United States have developed some new technology, abandoning the use of highly flammable rocket fuel to propel their ships into space? Atomic energy? Magnetism?

As Nikita pondered this unusual spacecraft, Marilyn returned to his side.

“The doors are all locked,” she told him, edgy. “And I don’t think your shoe would make much of a ‘key’… I don’t know what to do … where to go…”

She followed his gaze up the side of the rocket.

“Yes, yes you’re right!” she said. “We can hide in there!”

Nikita just looked at her. “You know how to get inside rocket?”

“Sure,” she said with a little shrug. “I went up, once.”

This information surprised Nikita. Never were Russian citizens allowed in Soviet spaceships, which were restricted to scientists and only the highest-ranking military and government people.

“A kid fell down and broke his leg,” she told him, “so Mr. Disney boarded it up … come on.”

As she grabbed his hand, Nikita held back. “Mr. Disney must be a powerful man to close down a government rocket.”

Marilyn blinked. “Nikkie, it’s not a real spaceship.”

“Is not?”

She shook her head; he could tell she was trying not to smile. “The ship’s an observation deck—you can see the whole park from there.”

Now he did feel silly.

“Another ride,” he said.

“Sort of … only it doesn’t go anywhere.”

Nowhere in particular.

Silly and disappointed, he felt. He supposed the submarines didn’t go anywhere, either. But he didn’t ask.

“There used to be some stairs up to the deck,” Marilyn was saying, pointing upward to where the base of the craft was nailed shut, regular boards that had been painted white to fool the eye. “If you lift me, maybe I can pull some of those boards down.”

Nikita could see spaces between the wood that had been haphazardly nailed together. Although his shoulder ached, Nikita crouched, hugged his arms around Marilyn’s hips, and lifted her up.

In the process, she must have touched his bloodied pajama top, because she gasped and wriggled from his grip.

“Oh you’re hurt,” Marilyn exclaimed. She obviously hadn’t noticed before; in the darkness the burgundy pajama top merely looked damp, not red. “Oh, Nikita, why didn’t you say something … ?”

“Is nothing. As they say in your western pictures, he winged me… We must get in spaceship.”

“But …”

“Will be much more than arm if we don’t get inside ship.”

He bent again, hoisting Marilyn as high as he could. She squirmed a bit as he held her, working at the boards; then he heard wood cracking, and two pieces of lumber fell by his feet, thumping to the cement.

When he lowered Marilyn, her face was long with concern.

“Nikkie, you’re sure you’re all right?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Can you … can you lift me again? I