The heavy wooden crate of Chinese 7.62x39 full metal jacket cartridges left a ding in the heavy duty rubber bed liner where Gloria had angrily tossed it, followed by dozens of other ammo crates that at one time she would have been hard pressed to just lift up, let alone throw a couple of yards. She felt herself getting hot and sweaty, the slight fatigue felt good as she calmed down, adrenaline no longer spiking. No longer understanding why she’d been angry with Caleb.
Caleb cautiously looked out the door before pushing the cart loaded with weapons out. Gloria was sitting on a box sipping her water, appearing deep in thought. She glanced his way and gave a half smile at the sight of over a hundred long narrow white boxes and another fifty small white boxes. “I don’t know what I did to piss you off, so here’s a peace offering.” He handed her a white box that had a smiley face drawn on the top of it. Gloria opened the box quietly. Inside was a Springfield Armory .45ACP.
“With your improved strength I thought you might like something with a little more punch. It comes with 2 thirteen round magazines.” Gloria looked back up at him and saw he was nervously holding a box of .45 cartridges. She stood up and he looked like he wanted to step back but held his ground as she came nearer to him, before wrapping her arms around him, nearly suffocating him as he felt her breasts push against him. When she released him tears were streaming down from behind her sunglasses.
“Uh, what say we load up, and get on the way. It should be fun to fit all this with the rest of the stuff in the truck. Do you think we should hit the road today, or first thing in the morning?” Caleb asked, feeling like he was in a minefield.
“Oh you crazy redneck, just get to work and we’ll see when we finish loading up the moving truck.” Gloria did a little gulp of air and fought to keep from crying again. Caleb wisely kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 15
Douglas, Wyoming. April 12, 2029
Major ‘Arnie’ Arnot, pre-apocalypse commander of Special Operations Section for Air Force Space Command nodded to Technical Sergeant Cary Widauf to enter his office. The sergeant was the highest ranking survivor from his section and had been indispensable in re-establishing many satellite programs that technically didn’t exist.
“Sir, remember that full colonel from Travis that disappeared with his C-17 and crew? Well, I found it, it’s back at Travis. I took the liberty to scan the base and found there’s a lot of activity there. I thought that’s amazing since there’s such a large civilian population near it. The funny thing is the base isn’t built up to repel the Zs. I did a 24 hour observation of the base and when it got dark the guards didn’t leave their posts or have trouble with the Zs. If I was to speculate, I think the base personnel have found a way to interact with the infected. When night falls, there is no artificial illumination of any kind, not even fires on or even near the base. I tried a few different scans of the base and noticed three hangars have significantly high electronic signatures that are not able to be identified. The same hangars are producing significant heat signatures I couldn’t identify either. The three hangars are the only locations with any type of electronic signature. What do you make of it sir?”
“I think I’m going to give General Peters another headache, is what I think. Classify it Top Secret. The General and I are the only others with a need to know besides yourself. Have you tried to go back and run a history of the base from the archives?”
“Sir, I’ve started a few times, but there’s problems with bandwidth, then other duties and small fires keep pulling me away from it.”
“Consider it your main project for now, we’ll call it Project T. I want to know what you find as soon as possible. Crap, I have to move it, or I’ll be late for the Thursday staff meeting. I really thought this type of stuff would end with the apocalypse.” Major Arnot was opening the door to leave when Cary replied.
“Sir, maybe it’s part of our penance for surviving.”
Typical for General Peters, he’d cancelled the meeting and forgot to send out notices, instead a yellow post it was stuck to the outside door to his section of the head quarters, with the simple message Meeting to be Rescheduled. He looked at it for a moment and decided to see if he could get a couple seconds with the general. Opening the door, he saw the interior door was still open with the general talking to his enlisted aide Suzy. Inside the office he could see Mr. Favazza. Peters looked up at Arnot as he entered.
“Sorry Arnie, the meeting was cancelled, or is there something else you need to do me out of?”
“Sir, I may be premature, but I think you’ll want to hear something I was just given a mini brief on. I think it’d hold Mr. Favazza’s attention also.” Peters waved him through to his office. Favazza looked at him curiously, but said nothing. Peters went back to his seat and motioned for him to begin as he lighted up a cigarette.
“General Peters, one of my men tried to find out what happened to the C-17 we had when we first evacuated Peterson AFB. It appears Colonel Austin decided to return to Travis. His plane is parked there like the other C17s. Even has a heavy fire extinguisher in front of it. My sergeant then tried to see if he could find out what had happened from there and things started to get strange. The base still appears to be under positive control. The strange thing is that the personnel do not take cover when it gets dark, and the Zs leave them alone. If that wasn’t strange enough, there’s three hangars that have significantly high electronic signatures that are not able to be identified. The same hangars are producing significant heat signatures I couldn’t identify either. I’m familiar with a few things that I shouldn’t be. With the world the way it is, that’s just the way things are. I’m familiar with the aliens being destroyed in orbit around our planet, and I believe I know where they are now.”
“Major, do you have any hard evidence that Travis AFB has been taken over by aliens? Or is it all supposition and speculation?” Favazza was hiding his emotions poorly and Peters wondered if it was anger or excitement. He sat back to watch how the conversation went.
“Mr. Favazza, Special Operations tends to observe what our customers do with our equipment. I personally have known about exterrestrials for a while. One of my tasks, when General Tullos was still in charge of Space Command, was to keep him informed of everything I found. There was no written or electronic trail; everything I reported to him was verbal. I don’t think he kept any notes or documentation. For what I just found…my man is going through the archives. I believe he’ll find evidence that aliens landed on the base and are now occupying those hangars until they can be rescued, or they complete the invasion, and take over. I’d suggest we use our asset and destroy the base, the same way we destroyed Ellsworth AFB.”
“That’s enough, Major!” Favazza fished out his wallet then pulled out his CAC, “Do you see there where it says EQ and then MGEN? Now I’m not in your chain of command but…”
“Arnie, thanks for bringing this to my attention. Keep this information between your NCO and the two of us. You’re dismissed.” Arnot wisely and quickly followed Peter’s order and almost ran to get out of the office.
“That wasn’t wise, General Peters. I can’t have a junior officer flunky running around spreading that information at the O-club, bar, or whatever.”
“Do you want me to have him whacked, John? My bodyguard could or would do it if I asked. He’s a good man, and I think he’s done similar work before. Mind you, I’m not sure.” Favazza sat and looked Peters in the eyes, trying to see if his leg was being pulled or not, then felt like he was in a game of poker and the general sitting before him had just raised the ante and he didn’t know for sure if he was bluffing or not.
“I expect you to keep him under your thumb, things are bad enough with that pig you put in as president.”
“Which is why I called for you, I think he’s getting even more unbalanced. I have a military security detail to enhance his little militia he calls the new Secret Service. A member of that security detail observed him outside inebriated in the middle of
the day rambling incoherently to his aide. He sounds about as nuts as the president, too.” The color left his face as he realized what he had just said aloud. Favazza picked up on it and laughed.
“Just the two of us in here, and I have a bad time remembering things unless I write things down. My notebook is back in my office. Now what did the Major mean about destroying Ellsworth AFB?”
“That’s something else for you to forget, John.” Peters took in a deep breath and continued, “John, do you have your cube with you? We need to ask your friend Tomi about what happens if those are the aliens there, and we decide to take them out.”
Favazza reached down next to his chair, into his open briefcase, and pulled out the cube. Favazza pressed the single button on the box and an apparition appeared to float in the air above it. Peters could see through the figure before him. It was approximately six feet tall. It appeared similar to a human, except it was gray and hairless with a bulbous head that dwarfed a body that appeared malnourished in comparison. It had a nose similar to a human’s, only tinier. The main feature was the pair of huge, black almond-shaped eyes that were out of proportion for the head. The alien wore a simple gray tunic the same color as its skin. There were protrusions on the front of the tunic that made Peters think they might be breasts.
“Ah, Mr. Favazza and Major General William Peters. How may I be of service to my friends today?”
“Tomi, we believe we found where the DyB’buk survivors landed after their ship were destroyed. It appears they have humans helping them. What type of weapons and dangers can we expect when we attack them?”
“The DyB’buk are almost entirely dependent on their technology. If they leave their ships, they need to wear armored suits because they can’t survive in Earth’s atmosphere or tolerate your gravity. Unfiltered contact with your sunshine is also lethal to them. Depending on the vehicle they used to escape their ship, they could have basic survival pods, scout ships, or shuttles. Both the scout ship and shuttle have armaments, most likely some form of laser. Their powered suits also have weapons, either laser or chemically propelled projectiles, integrated into them also. If you do attack them, they will not surrender, and most likely will destroy themselves and their ships to avoid capture.”
“Would they have the cure or fix for bringing back our people from being infected?” Peters asked.
“The survivors would most likely have nothing with them, but they might be able to tell you of a cure if you negotiate with them, but you would need leverage, and I don’t know if they have any type of translation device to even talk with you.” Tomi replied.
“If we captured some of them, could you act as an interpreter?”
“I have already said and done more than I should have. You will find a way, I’m sure. I must end our discussion now.” In the blink of an eye the alien was gone.
“Well, Tomi was as helpful as ever I see.” Peters said angrily, fighting the urge to pull out the bottle from his desk to have a taste.
“Willy Pete, you weren’t listening to what was not being said. He warned us about attacking the DyB’buk. Not warning us against attacking them. I believe we have a good chance of kicking their ass, and saving everyone in the process. You need to send a team out to investigate as soon as possible.” Favazza suggested.
“There’s a lot of things I need to take care of. Hey, do you think Tomi can listen to you through that gadget whenever he wants? Thanks for stopping by, John.” Peters rose and shook his hand, leaving no doubt the meeting was over. Favazza found himself mentally kicking himself as he walked to the door. Of course Tomi, or his people, are listening to me! How could I have let something so obvious go by for so long. I’ve been a fool. What else have I let slip by?
Peters buzzed his aide and asked for his chief of staff, Brigadier General Davis, to join him at his earliest convenience. While he respected his number two man, he knew the brigadier didn’t agree with many of the policies and positions he’d taken. He also knew the last thing in the world that the man wanted was to replace him. He was surprised that the general was at his door in less than five minutes.
“Jim, please have a seat. I need you to coordinate a recon of Travis AFB. I believe aliens have taken the base, and may have humans assisting them.” Peters went on to describe everything that Major Arnot had briefed him on, omitting the input by Favazza and the friendly alien Tomi.
“So, to recap, ET has our largest Air Force Base on the west coast. He’s using humans to control the base that the infected ignore. Now I need to send a team cross country over a thousand miles through infected territory, and then infiltrate the base and find ETs and then capture or destroy them. Why not do the same thing you did to the fanatics that had captured Ellsworth AFB? You can use Thor’s hammer to destroy everything.”
“That was my first thought also, but I want to know for sure before I kill thousands of people. The aliens could be prisoners of our people or even helping fix things with the infected, we have to know before we do anything.”
“I have just the team for that. A dozen operators from the 10th Special Forces Group out of Fort Carson reported in two days ago. In true style, they managed to recover enough assets to outfit a battalion. I’ll talk with them about doing a sneak and peek on Travis AFB. That’s their bread and butter.
Chapter 16
Surprise, Arizona. April 12, 2029
The noon sun felt especially uncomfortable to Caleb since he still wasn’t acclimated to Arizona after his years up north and the fact that April should be cool, not in the 80s. He was stripped to the waist, his torso covered in sweat as he found himself in a race with Grits to see who’d load the most into the moving van. He smiled at the sight of her totally drenched from head to her pants. He fought the urge to make a joke about her being covered in sweat and looking like a wet t-shirt contestant.
What’s that redneck fool thinking now? Gloria wondered as she caught him looking at her. Her shirt was totally drenched in sweat, and she thought, enjoy the view boy, it’s all you’re going to get. She stopped for a swig of water and realized they were done. Caleb pulled down the door and locked it into place.
“Its 1400 hrs, how about we take turns using the shower, then have a quick bite. We can still get a few hours on the road before it gets too dark.” Caleb asked before taking a huge swig of water as he waited for her reply.
“You go ahead and take the first shower. I want to hook up my truck to the trailer. While I’m still sweaty.”
“Let’s just do it together and get it done. I’ll drive over and hook up the trailer and move it in position for you to drive your truck on board. We’re in this together for the long haul. Now let’s move, I want that shower.” Gloria tried to think of a argument against his idea and failed.
“Okay, get it in gear, I like the thought of getting clean.” She forced a smile before she headed for her truck. Caleb quickly was in the moving van’s cab and slowly driving towards a six wheeled trailer that would accommodate the pickup.
“That bitch is alive!” Major Ronald Wilson spat aloud from his car, atop the 303 overpass. He put down his binoculars, cursing. He’d decided to take the Corvette instead of a more practical vehicle, perhaps, one that had either a machinegun or radio, so that he could quickly call in support. That’s the bastard from the north with her, no wonder the team I sent out lied, it must have been on his orders, since they were from the north, too. Who the hell am I going to get to help me take her out? My people feel loyalty to her, I’m smart enough to not give an order that won’t be obeyed! Wilson floored the gas and spun the wheel at the same time, leaving rubber on the overpass, adrenaline starting to flow. He drove for only a half mile before he grabbed his M4 and walked to the front of the car. Quickly he fired six shots into the windshield, leaving it spider webbed. That’ll do nicely! He thought, trying to get into the driver’s seat without cutting himself.
This is nice, Caleb thought as he drank his Mountain Dew, savoring the flavor, and the fact he was
in clean clothes, and clean himself. He didn’t say anything as Gloria walked into the break room, she smelled faintly of soap and shampoo, but not overpowering like a norm would. “Grab yourself a soda, they’re still nice and cold.” Caleb pointed towards the counter where a pair of bags were slowly heating with MRE heaters, “It won't be long now until the mac n cheese will be ready. Then we can hit the road if you want. I have us mapped out to take Highway 87 after we get out of town. Interstate 10 or Interstate 40 are a little quicker, but I thought it’d be better if we avoided the major towns and the traffic problems that will be added. I can also pass on seeing miles of dead people locked in their cars.”
“I’ve lived here long enough that I can say taking I-40 would be the fastest for going east. I’ve only seen a little of the dead trapped in their cars, and that little bit is enough to sell me. Now, lunch smells good, it must be ready.” Gloria headed to the counter and watched the cheese bubbling and pronounced, “Lunch is ready.” She gingerly picked up one of the bags by a corner and dumped the contents on a plate, then surprised Caleb by bringing it to him before he could stand, then went back and prepared her plate, savoring the smell of cheddar cheese. Plopping down on the couch, she didn’t look up as she attacked the meal, not seeing him stare at the way she wiped out the plate of food. Caleb rose, surprised at how full he felt from such a minor meal.
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