by G. R. Carter
“There’s always going to be a boogeyman. Always someone out to get us. At least in our minds there will be. Will you ever let us rest?” Celeste ignored Bek and asked Alex.
Without another word, Alex rose and headed for the door. His slight limp loosened as he walked into the hallway. He made his way to the stairs, looking at each of the paintings on the wall. Scenes of the Shelby County’s past hung next to those of its successor. There was one of his father’s last stand outside Old Main. There was one of his own stand at the walls of Shelbyville. One of Clark Olsen’s heroic defense of Tower Hill.
Common theme…desperate struggle and sacrifice, he thought. No one understands until they’ve faced it themselves.
Chapter Ten
Northeast Oklahoma
Southern Front - ARK Territory
Essie Hamilton peered out of her plane’s canopy, watching the sun peek through black haze. Her heart hurt for a moment. Sunrise never ceased to amaze her, no many how many times in her young life she had witnessed the miracle of daybreak. Too bad the hand of man was once more obscuring the hand of the Creator.
She banked the Willy Coppens slightly left, trying to spot any movement in the scarred landscape below. Burning oil wells blazed at the base of smoky columns, casting long shadows across the dry prairie scrub. There was no movement except smoky shadows; those responsible for the destruction had long since moved on.
She leveled out and let the rest of her four-plane squadron form back on her. It wasn’t hard to spot them; gaudy paint schemes stood out brighter than usual in the early morning sunlight. Essie’s was a solid red, but the rest were a combination of patterns and designs. They seemed to sparkle, color leaping off the canvas of soot hanging in the air.
The radio stayed silent; the squadron would follow her lead. Hand signals worked at this speed, and the radio was saved for when they were fully engaged and the element of surprise was already used up. The Willy Coppens began to climb. It passed 1,000 feet, then 2,000, finally leveling off at about 8,000 to take another glance at the mottled landscape below.
Essie’s Flying Circus was after two things this morning: to try and stop any more oilfields from being destroyed, and to sweep away any Nuevo Tejano planes that might be up in the air. Air-to-air combat was what the Circus longed for, but ground attack was what they spent most of their day doing.
These were the core of ARK’s remaining air wing. Even the blaze-red leader with Red Hawk emblems inside white circles on her wings fought for ARK’s remaining island of civilization in a sea of invaders.
Essie knew the noose was tightening. The burning oilfields below had been in ARK hands just a couple of weeks before. The Caliphate threatened from the east, hovering from their haven in the White City. Nuevo Tejanos were rolling up mile after mile to the south and west, their numbers supported by a mysterious force under the flag of a phoenix. She wasn’t sure either could ever conquer Independence by force, but they’d soon cut off and surround ARK’s last hope. Despite the massive storerooms that made up the underground city, the clock would be ticking on inevitable collapse.
More important to Essie, the airfields would be gone, along with her last remaining escape.
For reasons she still didn’t fully understand, she remained here fighting for the very people who had destroyed her adopted hometown and her fiancé along with it. Most of the people responsible for that act were long since dead, many in burning airships at her own hand. The name on the side of her airplane was one last dig at those once-proud kings of the sky. The joke didn’t seem so funny anymore, now that she felt the desperation of being overrun by evil a second time. This enemy wouldn’t ask for forgiveness as ARK had. Her new adversary wouldn’t hesitate to execute her outside of combat. Especially once they realized she was the one who flew the Muerte Roja. She’d heard that called out on the radio not long before shooting down her fifth Nuevo in as many days. She’d scribbled it best she could on her notepad and had it translated by one of her pilots who spoke both languages. The Red Death, she thought. Not a bad nickname.
A glimmer caught her eye several miles out.
She didn’t need to radio to her squadron. They gunned their engines and followed her in a climb to get the advantage on whatever was out there.
Satisfied with her altitude, Essie gunned the engine towards her prey. She checked her gauges quickly…all good, as usual. Hers was a tough old bird, and as well maintained as possible in the conditions. She’d lost her beloved T-34 long ago, but getting used to what the Red Hawk Wizards called a Raptor wasn’t too hard. Built off an Air Tractor crop duster frame, it was meant to be abused. ARK had found plenty of the workhorses scattered throughout the plains states that made up most of its empire. After seeing what the Red Hawks did with the versatile Raptors they retrofitted as many as they could. They weren’t quite as clever or detailed as the Red Hawk Wizard engineers, but the birds held up well. It got its workout with Essie at the stick.
Finally, her target came into clearer view. A little single-seat Cessna with fixed wheels and a big windscreen flew straight as an arrow, oblivious to her approach. She recognized the type from the plane spec books her brother Sam made her memorize before he agreed to teach her to fly. She thought it was so stupid at the time, but she’d have memorized the dictionary if it meant getting up in the air. Now the logic of the exercise proved itself out again as she recited the specs of her prey.
Maximum range about 600 miles.
Cruise speed less than 150 miles per hour. Max speed less than 200.
Stall speed about 55 miles per hour.
She couldn’t remember the plane’s ceiling, but she had the info she needed. The Nuevos didn’t maintain their planes very well anyway, so the specs would be optimistic. Their pilots weren’t well trained either. Most had started out before the Reset using these planes to fly their cartel’s drugs over the United States border. All they needed to know was how to fly low enough to try and avoid detection. This guy obviously wasn’t very good at that, either.
The Nuevo finally spotted his death quickly approaching. He banked left and pushed the little prop over into a dive to gain any speed he could. Essie checked her heading and quickly jotted the numbers on her notepad. She’d worn one strapped to her thigh to give accurate intel to ARK planners. Now the Nuevo’s attempt to run for his home could give them an idea of where their air base was.
Satisfied she had the bearing, she held the Willy Coppens steady and closed the gap to as close as she dared. As she lined up her shot the Nuevo began to kick the tail back and forth a bit. The distraction was pointless; the pilot wasn’t good enough to really pitch his plane out of the line of fire, just the tail. The fuselage stayed consistent and Essie lined the manual gun site in her windscreen just past the Nuevo’s nose.
A deep breath and she squeezed the trigger.
The Raptor shuddered as it sent a stream of hot metal through the sky. Quick burst only; she’d do her best to conserve nearly irreplaceable ammunition.
Her sole focus was watching holes on the top of the cockpit. Pieces of the Nuevo plane peeled off in the airstream, so she pulled up and banked, eager to watch her prey disintegrate. Satisfaction overwhelmed her; another enemy out of combat, another weapon never aimed at her again.
One of her squadron mates broke radio silence. “Nuevos coming out of the sun!”
Irritated she wouldn’t get to watch the conclusion of her kill, she pitched the Willie Coppens into a tight left turn to face her adversary. She could almost feel her other three planes turn at the same time. They had trained for this: two of them would be breaking off and climbing for maximum altitude while she and her wingman got the assessment of the situation.
She quickly changed from irritated to concerned. She stopped counting at twelve planes heading her direction, grouped tightly. She considered turning for home and making a run for it. But the Nuevos likely were at max speed and closing. If she tried to turn they’d be on them both before they could get back up
to speed. She could dive to ground level, but again they’d have the advantage on her.
She did the one thing they’d never expect: she gunned the engine to full rich and headed straight for them. She picked out the middle of the formation and kept her eyes glued to one target.
The distance closed quickly. Essie could almost sense the indecision in the enemy commander’s mind. By now he must have realized the Red Death was here, Santa Muerte herself incarnate. A thing of nightmares.
Close enough, she thought and squeezed the trigger again. Almost immediately her target began to stream black smoke and fell out of the sky. She pulled up on the stick and watched the rest of her adversaries scatter. She banked left again and picked out another target. In a split second, she had him lined up and let the Raptor’s guns do their work.
No black smoke this time, the target simply rolled over and then pitched toward the ground. The airplane appeared mechanically okay, but the human controller was clearly incapacitated. Works either way.
The sky was clear for a moment until she spotted a group of Nuevo planes forming up about a mile out.
She glanced over both shoulders. No sign of her wingman. Essie thought for a moment, considering again the benefits of fight and flight.
It didn’t take her long to decide. She lined up the plane that seemed to be the center of the group and headed straight for him. This time she noticed two Nuevos lingering slightly above the group turn towards her.
This one’s gonna be close, she thought. But she stayed steady until her target broke for the deck. She squeezed the trigger, watching her streaking shells pierce the Nuevo’s metal skin. Before she could tell what affect the damage had, her Raptor shuddered and vibrated. A warning light blinked and she could feel the controls become sluggish.
Essie banked away, to the right this time, and decided it might be time to split the scene. Over the roar of the engine’s loud clanging a thudding came from behind her armored seat. Shells ripped into the cockpit, grazing her on the left elbow and shattering many of the gauges on the instrument panel.
The pain of torn skin made her nearly pass out as she screamed, more angry than scared. Essie reacted quickly as a Nuevo made the mistake of overshooting his own attack pass and slid right past her gun sights. Furious at the damage to her plane and her arm, she squeezed the trigger hard and sent the last of her ammunition into her assailant’s black underbelly.
There was no doubt about this one’s death. Her shells shredded the thin metal. Small flashes of flame became a streak of fire, then the whole plane became engulfed as the flaming mass plummeted from the sky.
Gotta get outta here…
She fought unconsciousness from the pain. Blood was seeping out of her shirtsleeve.
Don’t want to dive too fast, might not pull out…
The Raptor shuddered again and another Nuevo shot past her. She pulled the trigger in vain, listening the clicking sound of the auto feed chattering uselessly. She screamed again in frustration, feeling totally helpless.
She could do this. She’d landed a plane at night in the pitch black after a battle, she could get back to the airfield in daylight. The Raptor could take the abuse, and so could she.
If the freakin’ Nuevos don’t kill me first…
She’d live just to spite them. Stupid drug cartels taking over everything in the absence of civilization. Bringing their poison faith everywhere they went, complete with human sacrifice and slavery. One of the only things that could ever get her to fight for ARK.
Got to get back to the airfield. I’m done here. I want to go home to the Okaw. I want to be with my family. The Republic is the only thing that can defeat this kind of evil.
She laughed at herself. Trying to think strategically while bleeding out over an oilfield.
She glanced at the gauges again out of habit. Nothing really to check, just broken glass and twisted metal. She wasn’t going to make it back to the airfield. She’d have to set it down wherever she could. Last time I did that I was almost lion lunch.
Better that than being captured by the Nuevos. That wasn’t an option. Being tortured and sacrificed to their gods just wasn’t on her to-do list.
She didn’t need gauges to see the ground coming nearer. Focus, girl, you gotta do this.
Essie leveled out and throttled back. She worked the controls as best she could and lined up what looked like a flat stretch of grassland. At least flat spaces were one thing in good supply around here.
She kept trying to scrub off speed, staying conscious just long enough to hear the landing gear hitting the grass and brush as she neared the ground.
Shouldn’t burn too much, I’m almost out of fuel, were her last thoughts before the plane’s belly finally contacted the earth below.
Chapter Eleven
Founder’s Quarters
Capitol Building
Shelbyville, Okaw Province
“I would say it’s not like you to just walk away, but that’s really not true at all.”
Alex didn’t look back to his wife, just smiled a little and remained seated in his chair. Since the night of ARK’s fall, he had stayed here in their personal quarters at the Courthouse. A few brief visits to Aronia Point were the only times he’d left the capital city.
“I figured you had it covered,” he replied.
“Counting on me to patch things up with Celeste?”
“No. You’ve had to do that a thousand times already. I’m tired of trying to get her to understand what we’re up against.”
Bek gasped. It was subtle; only Alex would have recognized it. He’d caught her by surprise.
“You’re seriously thinking about replacing her?”
Alex shrugged, still facing away from Bek, and looking out of his favorite window with a view of Shelbyville.
“I already have. I’m asking Eric to send Skyler Hunsinger here to take over the Wizards. He was trained as an engineer,” Alex said. “Plus, he’s been fighting for his family’s survival since the Reset. He gets it.”
“I think it’s a bad move,” she said sternly.
“I know,” he sighed.
She began to argue, then thought better. If he was going to change his mind, it wouldn’t be now. Beyond the complicated political aspect of replacing such an important leader from an original Okaw family, the woman was immediate family.
“What will you say to Sam?” she asked instead.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said much to me recently. I think he blames me for his pilots getting killed in Vincennes.”
Bek fought the urge to let a tear roll down her face. “Celeste told me he has a lot of trouble sleeping. Since that fighter plane over Vincennes nearly killed him, he’s been kind of different.”
“She doesn’t understand how a thing like that can change a man.”
Bek paused, trying to decide if Alex felt the same about her.
He sensed her discomfort. “You’ve never wavered. If a soldier risks his life, but the one at home questions why he does it, it leaves a lot of questions in his mind. Wondering if it’s all worth it.”
She stayed silent. It was rare for Alex to bare his heart, even to her. When he hadn’t said anything for a few moments, she asked, “Is it, Alex? Has this all been worth it?”
Alex didn’t answer, listening to the big grandfather clock in the hallway outside tick their time together away. The question lingered over every decision he made. A question that haunted him in his first years as Founder, but on a more practical scale. Now it was as much spiritual. “I never saw it as a choice. Being Founder is what I am. I didn’t choose it, I didn’t run for the office. I just see what needs done and I try to do it.”
Bek walked over and rubbed his shoulders. He reached up and patted her hand. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
She waited to hear the rest of the sentence, to explain what he had in mind. When he didn’t continue, she cocked her head with a question. “Go where?”
“I’m going to gather the Silv
er Shields and every vehicle we have in reserve. We’re going to attack the Caliphate. Drive them out of the White City.”
Bek continued to work the tension out of her husband’s muscular shoulders, not sure what to say.
Alex continued. “I know, I was keeping the Shields in reserve, to go wherever the Caliphate attacked us. But we’re sitting here waiting. We need to take the initiative.”
“Who’s going to protect the Okaw?” she asked. “If you’re out there, what happens if they attack here?”
“They won’t. They won’t get here. Eric has the east sealed off, no worries there. And if we attack the White City, it will draw every jiji in the Mississippi valley to us.” She felt a little tension seep from his muscles. “The Shield will smash them in the open. They don’t have any answer for our armor. The Caliphate will be ruined. Any survivors will just drift off into the woods.”
Bek was starting to put the pieces together. There was another layer to Alex’s plans. She always figured his mind out, but sometimes it took a while. “So how do the tribes factor into this? You know how big of risk we’re running by letting them near our towns and farms. You really wanted them to join us. Why?”
“There’s some good people out there. They’ll be an asset to us.”
She gave him a solid thump on the arm. “Okay, that didn’t answer my question.”
She could feel him chuckle. “You’re so much smarter than me,” he said. “I spend months thinking this up, and you figure it out in a few seconds.” He sighed. “Okay, you got me. Most of the tribe’s leadership already wants to go back out into the wildlands. The city life isn’t for them, and farming is too damn hard work.”
The lightbulb went off for Bek. “So, you’ll graciously allow them, the adults at least, to return to the woods. With your blessing and a promise not to cause trouble. They’ll be keeping the survivors of the Caliphate in check, a buffer between us and whatever remains of the horde along the river. Constant conflict keeps them both from causing us any problems in the future.”
