The Long Night Box Set

by Kevin Partner

  "So we have to go back and tell them!"

  Nathan nodded. "Sure. I haven't forgotten that they're holding Jake hostage until we return, but I want to do some damage first. This is our country, Su-Mi, not theirs, and someone has to strike back."

  "By murdering someone in cold blood?"

  "Just as he murdered our people."

  "We're no better than him, then? Is that what you're saying?"

  Nathan sighed. "Is the hangman as guilty as the man he executes?"

  "Your target could ask the same thing."

  "That wasn't an execution, it was the murder of soldiers who'd surrendered—you know that Su-Mi."

  She shook her head and leaned against the brick wall of the alley. Someone had sprayed "The End is Nigh" in black painted letters three feet high. "I just think we can't risk it. All we need to do is get some more precise intelligence and we can head back."

  "And then what? Await the onslaught? We can't beat them, but we can strike back. We can have a small victory."

  "Even if we succeed, we won't escape. You know that."

  Shrugging, Nathan said, "Such a pessimist. Come on, let's get back in there—I want to make sure the plan isn't too heavy on the crazy."

  In fact, it was simplicity itself. Matthews had been spying on the base for weeks until he'd been captured with Wesley on his way back to their hideout. Standing orders were that suspected spies were to be interrogated by officers of the North Korean secret police, the SSD, at their forward base near Alpine on I-8. Neither Matthews nor Wesley had expected to survive the encounter, and both had been severely beaten, but had been rescued by Preston and Sofia on their journey back, presumably, to face a firing squad.

  There was something about that sequence of events that troubled Nathan but, after all, there was nothing normal about the world now, and it made little sense to question anything.

  Before his capture, Matthews had noted a newly constructed wooden stage surrounded by seating. This, it became apparent, was used to welcome important dignitaries to San Diego. Matthews had watched naval commanders shaking hands with the butcher in charge of the base soon after their ships docked, witnessed by members of the crew and base personnel who occupied the rows of seats in front of the stage.

  A well hidden bomb would wipe out more than just the commander and it would serve to warn the enemy that they weren't going to take this country without a fight.

  And they had the means. Matthews had raided one of the local armories on the day after the Long Night and he'd carefully hidden a cache that included a hundred M112 demolition blocks, and he intended to use all of them in the attack. But they had no remote detonators or timers, and, in any case, the stage would certainly be searched, so the plan was to load the explosives into a truck and for Matthews to drive it at the stage and detonate it manually. He'd smiled when he'd seen Nathan's expression.

  "I said I wanted to resist," he responded, "and I can't imagine goin' out with a bigger bang."

  Then his face had darkened and, for a moment, Nathan got to peep behind the curtain at the dark soul within. "And besides, what have I got to live for? Everyone I ever cared for is dead and the country I love is goin' to be renamed New China or some such before long. I don't want to see that. This way, I go out on my own terms."

  Wesley and Sofia had begged him to reconsider, and Gomez had even offered to take his place, but he'd gotten dibs on the ride and it was a solo journey. It would be the task of the others to help him get in, to load the truck, and to cover him on his final journey.

  Two days later, Matthews came back to the hideout with the news that a new ship had docked and the welcome arena was being smartened up for the ceremony. "I seen it before," he said. "They clean it the day before, so it'll be tomorrow."

  This had taken the others by surprise. They'd only just gotten the last of the explosives from the cache and had been expecting a wait of at least a few days, but fate had, it seemed, smiled on them.

  All of them would be going. Su-Mi had donned her KPA uniform, and she and Nathan would be helping Matthews to steal and load up the truck before providing covering fire as it headed for its target. The other three would be stationed on the roofs of buildings overlooking the route, and they were tasked with keeping any defenders occupied so Matthews could get close enough to do maximum damage.

  Gomez had wept when she hugged Matthews as they were about to enter the base through the hole they'd cut in the fence, but Wesley had broken down entirely and Nathan could hear his sobbing as he, Su-Mi and Matthews had jogged into the darkness. The veteran had seemed unmoved, but Nathan suspected the old soldier was putting on a show for fear of undermining the mission. It would only work if they proceeded with determination and didn't overthink it.

  The ceremony would take place in the morning, and so they were breaking into the base before the sun came up. They flitted clumsily from building to building, each carrying fifteen kilos of M112, avoiding guards wherever possible. Matthews had been right, they were arrogant and relaxed, but twice Nathan was forced to creep up behind a soldier, put his hand over the man's mouth and a knife in his back. It was grim work, so he imagined the brave American defenders as they watched their comrades being killed one by one beside them and he found the strength. These men were the invaders here and he didn't want to consider if any of them had been given a choice whether to sail across the sea to this foreign land.

  The logistics area was set back from the waterfront and the rumble of the ships' engines as they generated power could barely be heard. Three trucks were lined up against a wall, the North Korean star on the nearest shining red beneath the one working streetlight.

  "Good," Matthews whispered. "These are old Russian trucks, should be easy enough to hotwire. Come on, let's get it loaded."

  They worked silently at the back of the truck, Su-Mi keeping watch as the sun rose over San Diego. Matthews ran the detonating cord between each of the blocks, and through into the cab where he wired it to the controller itself which sat on the middle seat.

  "You look as though you've done this before," Nathan said as he watched the veteran work.

  "I had a varied military career," Matthews said, "and after." He gave a rueful smile as he looked up. "The old woman said I'd come to a bad end. Guess this proves her wrong."

  Nathan held out his hand. "I wish there was another way, but you're an American hero."

  Matthews shook his head. "The Army would beg to differ. Dishonorable discharge," he said. "Though I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell nobody. Just wanted to unburden my soul to a fellow grunt."

  "I won't breathe a word."

  They shut the cab door and joined Su-Mi. It was now fully light and promising to be a bright day. They couldn't see the stage from where they hid, but they could hear the sounds of people talking as they passed along the harbor, heading for their seats. Not long now.

  "Time for you to take your positions," Matthews said. "Make sure you've got a clear line of sight—the biggest risk is that they take me down before I get close enough."

  Nathan shook his hand again and nodded. "We'll make sure you get a clear run. Godspeed, Sergeant."

  "You too, Sergeant," Matthews said, gripping Nathan with both hands.

  Su-Mi took his hand as he stepped back. "Blessings, Sergeant Matthews. You're a good American."

  Matthews smiled. "You too, Su-Mi. Thanks for proving me wrong. Seems Nathan here's a better judge of character than me. You'll carry on the fight, won't you?" he said, turning back to Nathan.

  "I'll do my best."

  With a nod, Matthews climbed up into the cab and pulled the door shut.

  Su-Mi and Nathan snuck their way along the rear of the base until they'd come in a wide arc to a position from which they could see the entrance to the truck parking lot and the stage itself. Matthews had said the ceremony would start at 10 a.m., and the seating area was still hidden in long shadows, but Nathan could see people busying themselves setting the stage up. A microphone on
a silver stand stood in the center and a tall man in dress uniform could be seen in the background.

  At 10 a.m. on the dot, the stage cleared, and the uniformed man stepped forward to the microphone. Korean words drifted across the base and then Su-Mi whispered that he had switched to Mandarin, though she couldn't make out all the words. From what she could gather, it was a standard welcome speech, exactly as Matthews had predicted.

  He was due to begin his run at 10:15, to account for any delay, and Nathan readied himself as he waited. Each member of the team carried a long barreled assault rifle that, at this range, ought to be accurate enough. Nathan and Su-Mi had worked out their escape route, planning to get out of San Diego as quickly as they possibly could and ahead of the inevitable road blocks that would be set up in the wake of the attack.

  10:15. Nathan strained to hear the sound of an accelerating engine, but there was nothing other than the droning of the base commander over the public address system. Matthews might be struggling to hotwire the truck's ignition, or he might have been caught.

  10:20. There it was! Nathan sighted along his barrel, waiting for the truck to appear as his gaze swept left and right along the route it would take.

  "Oh no!" Su-Mi hissed.

  "What?"

  She pointed to the stage. "Look!"

  There, walking unsteadily up to the base commander, was a pair of short figures each carrying what looked like a bouquet of flowers. And the sun had risen enough to illuminate the first rows of seats. "They're civilians!"

  "They're children!"

  Panic flooded Nathan's mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Surely Matthews hadn't known that these ceremonies were for civilian ships as well as military? These people could be settlers come to live in the homes of dead Americans, but they were not combatants. And that was the red line. The line between war and terrorism. And Nathan Woods was no terrorist.

  Shots rang out as the truck appeared from the left, accelerating along the harbor road. The figures on the stage froze at the sound and Nathan made his decision. He swung his rifle round.

  "We have to stop him!" he said.

  Without a word, Su-Mi followed his aim. The truck was less than a hundred yards from the stage as they fired round after round at its tires. Finally, a shot hit and the truck spun around as one tire burst. Guards ran like ants from cover and tore open the cab door.

  With a blinding flash followed a moment later by a rumbling roar, the truck disappeared in an expanding curtain of flame tinged by black rolling smoke. The blast took out one side of the stage and Nathan watched in horror as bodies were flung in all directions.

  "Come on!" he said, dragging Su-Mi to her feet.

  Gunfire erupted from behind them and they spun around to see Wesley silhouetted against the sky, his face twisted in rage, spraying bullets across the roof top. They scrambled to take cover behind an air conditioning unit as rounds thudded into the asphalt, the screaming and cries of pandemonium coming from the stage drowned out as they sheltered.

  Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. Nathan inched around the aircon to peer upwards and saw Sofia Gomez standing where Wesley had been. He could just make out a shape huddled at her feet and, as he watched, he saw Preston McInally approach from behind and put his hand on her shoulder. As she went to turn away, she locked eyes with Nathan, gave a sad nod, and disappeared.

  Nathan and Su-Mi ran down the fire escape steps and headed for the gap in the fence as all hell broke out behind them.

  Chapter 16

  If a machine could suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, then that's exactly what was afflicting Alison. Scott had reactivated the cylinder and helped her return to it, but she spent many hours talking to him, and especially Solly, like a child who needs reassuring that the nightmare is over.

  Many of these conversations took place in the drainage tunnel where Solly had hidden the cylinder. He'd found it early on in their time at the farmhouse but had preferred to keep her in the safe until Khaled had arrived. He shouldn't have let Ross follow him and learn of her location, so much sadness could have been prevented. He guessed that Khaled had attacked Ross with the intention of using him as a hostage to get Solly to hand over the cylinder—he must have thought he'd hit pay dirt when he realized the boy knew where it was.

  "Why didn't you transfer a fragment over to the drone?" Solly asked as he crouched in the wet tunnel with only the light of a camping gas lamp to see by. Scott had explained that Alison was capable of cloning aspects of her personality to perform specific tasks, such as piloting the plane to Rickenbacker, giving them the chance to escape the Lee Corporation's tracking.

  "I didn't have time, Father," she said. "I saw it and knew that I had milliseconds, so I threw myself at it. Or, at least, that's the closest metaphor I can come up with."

  "Just like Bobby."

  "Yes. I was sorry to learn of his death. He was a good man."

  "It was a waste."

  "I could have prevented it."

  Solly sighed. "I know, but if you'd been activated, there's no telling how many of them would have descended on us. It was my roll of the dice. My fault it went so disastrously wrong."

  "You must not blame yourself, Father. Someone had to make the decision."

  "What was it about the Reaper that caused you so much distress?" he asked, steering the discussion away from his own doubts and guilt.

  Alison's cyan eye, so bright in the damp darkness, dimmed for a moment. "There was a mind in it," she said, "intent on nothing but pursuing its mission. I don't know how to put it into words, but it was somehow familiar, as if I recognized it without ever having met it before. But it was evil and it threatened to swallow me whole."

  "But you beat it."

  "Yes. It was not sophisticated. Its mind was like a spear—focused on one aim and one aim only: destruction. I was able to parry the blow and strike as it tried to recover."

  Solly laughed. "You're using a metaphor because you don't think I'd understand what actually happened."

  "Yes Father," she responded in a matter-of-fact voice, "but it was faster than I expected. It struck out as it was destroyed, and I was forced to shut my consciousness down or be dragged with it into…wherever it went."

  "Machine Hell?" Solly suggested.

  "Perhaps. Its memories and thoughts merged with mine for a fragment of time and it was necessary to ring-fence them behind a firewall. I do not wish them to be part of my matrix."

  Solly picked the cylinder up and began making his way toward the tunnel entrance. "Time to shut down, Alison."

  "You used to read me stories at bedtime," she responded.

  "You're grown up now," he said. "Don't worry. I'll wake you again soon. We're going to need your help and I like talking with you."

  The cyan eye widened and the pupil turned into a heart symbol. "I like it too, Father. Goodnight."

  Dusk had fallen by the time Solly returned to the farmhouse and deposited Alison in the safe. He came back upstairs to the big living room and sat next to Janice as she played animal, vegetable or mineral with half a dozen older children.

  Some of the babies and toddlers had been relocated to the Fordham's house along with the teenagers who'd acted as their carers, so the place was a little quieter, a little less crowded than it had been before.

  "Is it a mushroom?" one of the children asked.

  Janice smiled. "Yes, well done."

  "Although a mushroom isn't a vegetable," Solly said, giving her a playful nudge.

  "Pedant," she responded as she pecked him on the cheek.

  Arnold rolled into the living room followed by another figure in a wheelchair. "Ross!" Solly called, leaping up from the couch and instantly regretting it. He rubbed the small of his back as he went over to the boy.

  "Nice job!" Solly said to Jaxon, who was pushing his friend.

  Jaxon beamed with pleasure. "Nothin' but the finest for my bro here. Took some findin' but we got there in the end."

  "It's just temporary,"
Ross said, looking up at Solly. "Until my legs are working again."

  Solly nodded. "Sure, son. But in the meantime, you need to learn how this thing works. We can't have Jaxon wheeling you around everywhere."

  "I've been showing him, Solly," Arnold said. "He's a fast learner."

  Jaxon pushed Ross over to the couch and swung him around so that he could watch the children as he sat alongside Janice. Solly glanced at him from time to time and he thought he could see, behind the smile, a haunted expression that froze him to the bone.

  "Oh, you're back."

  Solly turned to see Scott Lee standing in the doorway. "We need to talk."

  "Tonight?" Solly said, aware that he sounded a little like a teenage boy being reminded that he had homework to do.

  "Corporal DiSanto is here and we need to make our plans. After you stirred up a wasp’s nest in DC, we need to act quickly."

  Solly sighed. "Okay, let's go."

  Jaxon pushed Ross toward the kitchen door.

  "You're not needed," Scott said, looking at Ross. "You won't be coming on the mission, after all."

  Solly's fist connected with Scott Lee's jaw and he fell to the floor in a heap.

  Scott sat at the table, a wet cloth pressed against his jaw, his gaze darting resentfully in Solly's direction from time to time. He'd apologized to Ross, explaining that he had chosen his words poorly, but Solly had shown no signs of remorse. The boy had elected not to be in the meeting in any case, so Lee's sore jaw had been entirely unnecessary.

  Solly didn't regret his actions at all. As far as he was concerned, Scott Lee had had that coming for some time. Ever since he'd met the man, he'd been an ambivalent presence who liked to give the impression that only he had an accurate idea of what they were facing and that, if he were to paint them a picture, it would be very dark indeed. Solly knew that Lee was angry and jealous of the fact that Alison called Solly “father,” and that he resented the fact that they would have to work together to get the most out of her. But Solly, in turn, found Lee's refusal to reveal why Alison was so crucial absolutely maddening. The man was as slippery as an eel and as manipulative as hell.