Strike Matrix

by Aiden L Bailey

  Szymanski flicked a fob, lighting up a black Force Gurkha four-wheel drive.

  As they ran to it, gunfire opened across the street.

  The commandos had found them.

  Saanvi and Peri returned fire as they all ducked behind two parked cars. The commandos retaliated with full-automatic fire pinning them down, destroying the vehicles and setting off intruder alarms.

  “What now?” Saanvi asked of their leader.

  Peri had no time to answer.

  From nowhere, a black and yellow sports car ripped through the streets, drove straight at the commandos. The men leaped out of its way to avoid being run over. While their attention wasn’t on their team, Casey saw their opportunity. “Now!” she exclaimed.

  They ran for the four-wheel-drive and clambered in. Casey soon heard a weapon firing from the sports car. Someone was keeping the commandos pinned down.

  “Who is that?” Szymanski asked.

  Casey mouthed the words, ‘Simon’. Could it be him? Had he found her again? He had promised that he would.

  The sports car turned in a sharp circle and came up behind them. Simon Ashcroft was at the wheel, with another person shroud in the darkness of the passenger seat. Casey had never remembered feeling this relieved in her life. Simon grinned when he saw her.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Casey said. Then she remembered how much danger they were in. She glanced at Peri. “It’s okay, I think this group is on our side now.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “They’ve been screwed by the AIs as much as we have.”

  Simon nodded. “Don’t I know that. Good. You go first, I’ll follow.”

  More gunfire. The commandos had recovered and were advancing again. Saanvi behind the wheel sped them away. A pale and numb Szymanski in the passenger seat next to her held onto the dashboard like his life depended on it. Peri was the worst of the three, in the back with Casey shaking and shuddering. The woman seemed delirious, and unaware of her surroundings.

  Casey looked behind, saw the sports car duck and twist in the road ensuring that no one could pass, including the commandos. But no one seemed to follow. What Casey was certain of was that Simon had someone in the car with him. She couldn’t tell who, she’d only seen a silhouette.

  Peri was shaking now. Her breath labored and shallow.

  “You got water up there?”

  Szymanski nodded and passed Casey a water bottle.

  “And a cloth?”

  “Um No, I’m afraid.”

  “Then pass me your jacket!” she snapped. Casey couldn’t believe he was wearing a suit in the oppressive Mumbai heat.

  “What?”

  “Just do it!”

  He slipped out of his jacket and passed it to her. Casey soaked part of it with water, then dabbed it on Peri’s face to cool her. The woman had a fever and the cool liquid seemed to bring her a moment of relief. Casey doused more of the jacket with the rest of the water and kept dabbing Peri’s burning skin.

  “I think we’ve lost them,” Saanvi reported through gritted teeth.

  “Where to now?” Casey asked.

  “There is a safe house,” Szymanski reported. “I’ll give directions.”

  Casey nodded, then turned first to Peri who was now in a fitful slumber, then behind her.

  The sports car remained just behind. Simon was protecting them, following their car to whatever destination awaited, with a stranger in tow.

  CHAPTER 27

  Al Dhafra Air Base, United Arab Emirates

  Conner sat in a huge U.S. Airforce mess shared with only a few dozen soldiers. Conner chewed on a palatable meal classified as ready-to-eat. It was theoretically teriyaki beef. Despite a taste that didn’t match the label, he supposed it was okay. Better than he expected. What he wanted was a beer to complement the food. But this was a U.S. air base inside a United Arab Emirates air base, inside a nation dominated by the Islamic faith. Three times the reason there wouldn’t be a beer anywhere in sight.

  Outside the combined roars of jet fighters, military transports and drones was unending, taking off and landing, headed to or returning from missions across the Arabian Peninsula and no doubt further afield. Civil war had broken out. No wonder the mess was empty. Almost everyone was on active duty.

  He listened to the few eating soldiers quietly chatting in their small groups. He learned that not only had fundamentalist Islamists overrun Abu Dhabi, but they had done the same to most major cities in the Middle East. From Morocco to Pakistan, the presidents, kings, princes and religious leaders who had survived the initial coordinated insurgent attacks were now calling on the aid of the United States. The President, in all his unjustified confidence, had willingly offered foreign aid to every single one. Hundreds of thousands of U.S. troops were moving in. Military bases were popping up everywhere. Warships dominated the Persian Gulf, Mediterranean, Red and Arabian Seas. Drone flights out of this base and others in Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Iraq and Djibouti were on round-the-clock assassination missions, clinically executing terrorist leaders. Their intelligence was ninety-five percent accurate, or so claimed the President. If it was even the real President the soldiers were talking about. Conner doubted it.

  He felt sick listening to their conversations. None of the soldiers he eavesdropped upon had drawn the same scary implication he had. All the major Middle Eastern leaders on all sides were typically sociopaths and sycophants, and they weren’t around anymore. Islamic insurgents or NSA drones had taken them all out. This was a breeding program of sorts, to eradicate all humans who lacked empathy and a moral compass who would have been both ruthless and deceitful in their negotiations with the United States. With them out of the picture, the NSA could negotiate with mid-level bureaucrats, moderate religious administrators and timid royals who would be pushovers. In one swift move, the NSA had taken control of the world’s worst trouble spots and secured all the oil reserves that went with it, and no one was trying to stop them.

  He forced himself to eat the meal and drink as much bottled water as he could. There was no telling when he could eat or drink again.

  When he was full, he took his plate and scraps to a bin. A Marine near Conner switched on a big screen television in one corner of the mess. A report described recent events in the Far East.

  “—Tensions are growing in China as an unknown and highly toxic fog seeps across the eastern and southern regions of the country,” said the young, attractive news anchor with a strong East Coast American accent. “Authorities suspect the fog has killed over four hundred million people. Experts fear millions more will suffer similar fates, particularly if the fog continues to drift east towards the Philippines, North and South Korea, and Japan—”

  Conner stared open-mouthed at the screen, shocked and numb.

  The room became deathly silent. He looked around to see who was watching. He wasn’t the only person deeply affected by what he saw. No one in the mess moved in the slightest. No one took their eyes off the screen.

  Four. Hundred. Million. People.

  Dead.

  “—A spokesperson at Atlanta’s Centers for Disease Control said the origins of the fog is likely to be an industrial accident. Some reports suggest it could be an Indian chemical weapon attack, in retaliation for some three hundred million elderly and infirm citizens who have died mysteriously over the last week from an unknown illness sweeping that country—”

  “This is bullshit!” exclaimed a Marine standing next to Conner. “I knew something else was up.”

  Conner nodded. He said nothing because he couldn’t. Seven hundred million people across Asia had suddenly died. Twice the population of the United States, or ten percent of the world’s population, wiped out just like that. For the first time in forever, the human population was shrinking.

  “—Similar illnesses are sweeping through Nigeria, Pakistan, Indonesia, Bangladesh and Mexico. No one knows the causes of these incidents. No one has yet formulated a vi
able strategy to deal with this threat. Meanwhile, the World Health Organization is coordinating a series of relief programs, that can only be enacted when the all clear is given to move in—”

  Conner couldn’t take any more. He marched from the mess, sought directions to the base hospital and headed there. After smooth-talking several of the attractive orderlies and nurses, Conner found his way to Nahla Asem’s ward.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he sat on the end of her bed. She was sitting, drinking an orange juice. A vast improvement from when he’d left her when they had first arrived at the air base, curled in a ball being taken away on a stretcher. “You’re looking better,” he complemented her.

  She managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, looked around the ward with its many other patients. Bullet wounds or burns were the most common injuries. The young woman next to Nahla had a bandage wrapped around her head covering one eye. Her face was purple and swollen. She didn’t acknowledge Conner when he watched her. Instead, she stared at the fluorescent lights shinning down. She was numb to everything else. He wondered if she had lost the other eye.

  “Where is McIntyre?” Nahla asked.

  Conner shrugged, “Don’t know. He told me he’d find us later.”

  “Did you see the news? Do you know what is going on?”

  “You mean across the Middle East?”

  She nodded. It seemed she was not aware of the recent events unfolding in the world’s most populous countries and he would not be the one to break it to her.

  He said, “I think we’re now the heart of America’s newest colony.”

  “What?”

  He explained what he had overheard regarding the uprisings, and his theory on the attacks across the region. “Have you noticed, nothing untoward has happened to you and I since we came here? Whatever plan the NSA didn’t want us to expose through its Shatterhand program, well, I think the plan is behind us now. Nothing left to expose.”

  “You look worried though?”

  He shrugged. “Aren’t you?”

  “Someone told me the insurgent attacks are being put down as fast as they occur.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He told her about the plagues and the alarming number of deaths occurring across Asia.

  “Wow!” was all she could say.

  “It feels like the end of the world, doesn’t it?”

  She smiled gently. “Conner, I can see why you think like that. But I don’t believe it is the end of world. People have always seen catastrophes in everyday life, telling them that the planet is falling apart, but it never does.”

  “Seven hundred million people… is…” Conner didn’t know what to make of what he had learned. It was too much. It didn’t fit into the NSA conspiracy he’d been trying to expose. He tried to recall who he might know personally in the affected parts of Asia. There were many names that came to him. How many had survived? How could he even know who had lived and who had not? How could you even record that many individual deaths? “Seven hundred million, Nahla. Not even one percent of that number have died in the last hundred years because of all the wars, accidents and natural disasters put together.”

  “Conner?”

  “Yes,” he said, startled by his own morose thoughts.

  “It’s too big to take it in. So, don’t even try—”

  McIntyre stormed into the ward. He had changed from his civilian clothes into a military desert camouflage gear, complete with an Improved Modular Tactical ballistic vest and equipment harness. He holstered a Beretta M9 semi-automatic pistol. “We need to talk.” His tone was gruff and commanding. He wasn’t about to let Nahla or Conner forget who was in charge.

  “Sure,” Nahla spoke for both of them. “I’m feeling much better.”

  “Good.” His expression suggested he didn’t care one bit how Nahla was feeling. “You’ve seen the news? How the U.S. is moving in to take control of the Middle East? How, like North Korea, most of this region is now under our control?”

  Conner folded his arms. “How do you know this isn’t fake news?”

  McIntyre’s eyes shrunk, becoming dark. “You saw what happened, on the streets!”

  Conner appreciated that McIntyre had a point. They had both been in Abu Dhabi when Islamic State had destroyed the Burj Lanihaya, so he nodded. “I guess I did.”

  “Then let’s cut the crap. Most cities are falling into line. We have control again. A few…”

  “A few… are what?”

  “A few places aren’t. Insurgents have bunkered down and are laying sieges in cities like Raqqa, Erbil, Aleppo, Basrah, West Bank and Gaza, and now… Riyadh.”

  “I don’t understand. How can we help with that?” Nahla asked.

  Conner shuddered as a terrifying realization hit him. “You’re still worried about the nuclear weapons?”

  He grinned without joy. “You’re not the first person to mention them.”

  “Who else?”

  McIntyre looked ready to say, then held his tongue. “I need your help. Three Marine Corps Osprey tilt rotors head to Riyadh within the hour. We need to arrive before dawn limiting the chances of us getting shot down on the way. I want you on board.”

  “Why?” exclaimed Nahla. “How could we possibly help with that?”

  “Because you know about the nuclear weapons.”

  “Not where they are, or who has them.”

  “I’m sure you know more than you think you do. Besides, this isn’t a request. This is an order.”

  “We’re civilians,” Nahla cried out.

  “I can put you back inside the Abu Dhabi hot zones if you like? The city’s stabilized, but there is still fighting in small pockets—”

  “Wait a second!” Conner interrupted. “We didn’t say we wouldn’t come, but I’m sensing, you’re not telling us something important?”

  “I’m not telling you lots of things.”

  Outside, Conner heard several jet fighters roar along the runway. His conscious mind had ignored them until now, but when it seemed he was about to fly out of here too, pretending the jets weren’t there was no longer possible. They were off to battle. Everyone it seemed was at war with somebody.

  He turned to McIntyre. “Something fundamental to all this, something that ties all the weirdness together, you know what it is.”

  “I can’t comment on that,” McIntyre grinned, like they had caught him in a big lie. “But you’ll never know what I know unless you come with me now.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Panvel, Maharashtra, India

  Szymanski directed them eastward, crossing a long bridge over a wide inlet delivering them into the eastern sprawl of Mumbai. Lit up by streetlights and neon colors, Casey discovered newer buildings, cleaner streets and signs of city planning. Yet this satellite city of Navi Mumbai, like the rest of the megacity, was a crowded metropolis with auto-rickshaws, green and yellow taxis and every brand of car and motorcycle competing for road space even at this late hour.

  While none of their assailants had tracked them, Casey often looked behind to ensure Simon was nearby. Although she kept expecting to lose him again, the yellow and black sports car was always there, just behind. That thought alone brought a smile to her face. For the first time since their separation, she felt hope.

  She also sensed the rest of the team was coming to terms with today’s traumatic events. They were all that remained of the original team, and now the local authorities wanted their blood. The hunters had become like Simon and Casey, the hunted.

  Peri mumbled sporadically but didn’t stir from where she had passed out on Casey’s shoulder. Saanvi drove in silence and Szymanski never said a word other than to give directions. Earlier he had assured the team on the security and secrecy of his safe house, but Casey felt the hideout was only a short-term solution. They could only remain long enough to regroup, resupply and treat an ailing Peri who wasn’t looking too good.

  After an hour’s drive they reached an eight-st
ory apartment block. Szymanski explained that the safe house was CIA operated. It occupied the entire second floor, a back-up site loaned to them for this mission.

  Automatic roller doors on the ground-floor garage opened as they approached. Once both cars were inside and the garage door had closed again, Casey was out of the vehicle and raced for Simon. Her heart fluttered as he climbed from the sports car. He looked beaten and bruised, but when was he not? A large bandage on his left forearm hid a serious wound. It must have caused him pain and yet he smiled at the sight of her. The longing in his eyes drew her close. She desired only to wrap her arms around him and kiss his beautiful face.

  It was only then she noticed, and remembered, the second person in the car also clambering out.

  “Mom!”

  Casey couldn’t believe it. Her mother, here. Clementine Irvine dressed in loose comfortable clothes.

  She looked tired and beaten, but she was still her mother. The last time Casey had seen her was at the airport in Los Angeles before she boarded a flight to Kenya for a vacation. That was over a month ago now, yet it felt like years since she had seen her mother.

  “Mom!” she cried out again.

  “Honey.”

  She ran to her mother, hugged her tight. “I was so worried.”

  “Me too.”

  They held each other for a long time. Casey sobbed tears of happiness and relief. So overwhelming was her emotions, she took a moment to realize what was missing from the scene. She stepped back to look at her mother. “Where’s Dad?”

  Clementine sobbed. “I don’t know, honey. We got… separated.”

  “What? How?”

  “I got a message from him, a few days after we left you at the airport. He had traveled to Mumbai. I was to meet him in here.”

  “Is he in town, somewhere?”

  She shook her head as the tears ran free and unabated. “I don’t know where he is, but he’s not in Mumbai. They tricked us.”