Drive through. Turn around. Drive through. Pass ammo to the gunner. Drive through. This cycle repeated for what seemed an eternity, but a glance at the sun showed it couldn’t have been even half an hour. The lead units crumbled, and Frank was merciless about grinding them under his solid tires. Die, you bastards…
As he swept around once again, Joe came over the radio. “Hey, Frank. Look south. You see what I see? Yeehaw! Tell me it ain’t no mirage!”
Frank glanced and the sight made his heart soar—the middle goons had stopped piling into the fray and were running away. They headed south through their own oncoming troops, and from what Frank could tell, it had been enough to make the followers flee as well. Getting routed once had probably shaken them, but seeing their people flee yet again broke their spirit. Or so Frank figured from watching them.
Frank shifted back up into third gear, gaining momentum and streaking toward the crumbling lead units again. On the radio he said, “Nope, that’s no mirage. Ha ha! Boy, look at them go!”
Cassy’s voice came through again. “Bravo One, status?” She sounded tired, even defeated. She was mentally strong, sure, but she was emotionally fragile, and Frank figured the mutiny—which was really only following the chain of command in the middle of a damn battle—might have cracked her spirit. He hoped not.
Sounding as upbeat as he could, he replied, “Charlie One, this is Bravo One Actual. I’m happy to report the OpFor is routing. I say again, enemy forces are retreating to the southeast. We’re about to slam the door behind them.”
“Negative, Bravo One Actual.”
There was a pause, and Frank steeled himself for another round of verbal jousting. No way she had forgotten about the last conversation they’d had, after all.
“Charlie One to Bravo One, be advised that Lincoln One reports the north flank is being hit hard. The missing Empire battalion did show up, and hit the north food forest. He instructs that all available forces disengage if possible and reinforce forest north. How do you copy?”
Shit, no wonder Cassy sounded so dejected… Michael had been proven right, and on top of that, Clanholme itself was in imminent danger. “Bravo One Actual. Roger that, and Wilco. Cavalry coming. Out.”
Joe came through on the radio then, telling Frank he had heard it and was disengaging. Then Frank radioed his team, telling them the news. He turned to look southeast, and as he saw the backs of the enemy, fleeing, his eyes narrowed with a fire in them. It took everything in him not to chase after the wounded, fleeing prey.
Only the thought of Mary’s disappointment with him if he disobeyed and left his Clanmates in danger kept him steering back northward. He swore that the next units he fought wouldn’t be so lucky.
* * *
Cassy watched the blocks, red and blue, moving about on her monitor. A red block crashed into a blue one half its size. The blue block first backed up, then turned around as it fell back and then routed. Thankfully, it routed around another blue block behind it, this one much larger. The bigger blue block then moved quickly into the oncoming red one, and both halted. Up in the real world, she knew, those weren’t abstract blocks, but real flesh-and-blood people. Watching them took her mind off the white-hot coal in her brain that burned so hot she could practically feel it. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. Frustration. All feelings that were completely unwelcome, and completely out of her control.
Of course, she knew she shouldn’t be feeling that way. Frank ultimately had followed orders. What burned was that they hadn’t been her own orders… and that she had been wrong. Intellectually, she knew she was out of line. Michael was the warlord, the military commander, and far more qualified than she was.
Perhaps it was just pride… She had never thought of herself as being especially prideful, but one doesn’t always see one’s own faults, she reminded herself. Her mind was so fuzzy with fatigue, adrenaline, anger, and doubt that she couldn’t be sure she was even rational. She felt jacked up, confused, and terrified she was about to lose it completely.
In the background, the radio barked away endlessly. Calls for help, orders to retreat—those outnumbered the ones to advance, to charge, to flank. The Confederation was losing this battle, despite the spectacular advantages of having airplanes and battlecars. Those were more or less unstoppable killing machines, the tanks of this post-civilization era, but they weren’t enough. Nothing seemed to be enough. There were just so many goons. The Empire was huge, and they had thrown so many people into this war that it had to be virtually everyone they could spare across their entire pseudo-nation.
No goddamn wonder General Houle, sitting safe in his mountain fortress in Colorado, hadn’t just zapped the Clan with Predator drones and Hellfire missiles, or whatever they used these days. He could probably have done that, but drones and missiles were irreplaceable right now. Priceless.
Cassy felt her rage boil over as every detail cascaded through her mind. The doubts about her motive. Her sanity. It was a crappy, vicious circle of thought she was stuck in, and in a flare of rage, she lunged upward, hearing her rolling office chair skitter back as she rose. She leaned over the desk and swiped both arms to her right, bulldozing a mass of papers, pencils, and a couple books that fell to the floor with a thud. She heard Ethan get up behind her, probably surprised by her outburst, but she ignored him. Gritting her teeth, she slammed her palms down onto the desk, and the sound of sweaty flesh on wood drowned out the incessant radio chatter. Her heart pounded in her temple, and when she gazed down at the desk once again, she saw it—the lone blue pencil eraser, sitting there in mocking stubbornness. She grabbed the stupid pencil eraser and flung it to her left toward the stupid monitors that watched the stupid battle and the stupid cows and—
What the hell was that in Camera Three? She went through her mental list of cameras, and decided Three was the camera that pointed east, mounted maybe five hundred yards east of the guard tower. She walked slowly toward the monitors, then leaned in closely to try to figure out what was going on. Something was moving, that was certain, but what? It was big, stretching hundreds of yards across. Cows, maybe?
They got a bit closer and the picture grew clearer. Then it struck her like a hammer blow to the head… it wasn’t something huge. It was people. Armed people. There had to be hundreds and hundreds of them. Had Liz Town fallen and their attackers come east? No, these were coming from the east. Had Ephrata fallen? That made no sense either—the Empire would approach from the north or from the west. What lay east of the Confederation that could have swept through Ephrata so quickly they didn’t have time to warn Clanholme?
The invaders. Those two words danced around and twisted in her mind like a tornado, blowing all her other petty, stupid personal concerns aside like so much loose hay in a storm. “Shit…”
Ethan said, “What?”
“Camera Three,” she replied, tilting her head toward the screen.
“Three? What the hell are you—Oh. Fuck…”
Cassy only stared at the monitor. What else was there to do? “The invaders must have heard about the chaos going on and are taking advantage of it to try another attack.”
Ethan squared his shoulders, the fabric of his Game On! tee-shirt wrinkling in the middle. “We’ll be safe from the ’vaders down here, and I know Mandy and the kids are already set up in the Kidz Kastle—I gave them the order hours ago. But what of the…”
Cassy caught the crack in his voice on the last word, and didn’t expect him to finish that sentence anyway. Instead, she just reached her hand out and rested it on his forearm. “If we get overrun, the others up there know the drill.”
Ethan nodded, but remained silent.
Cassy said, “I’m not the blind faith one. That would be my mom. But I think praying couldn’t hurt.”
Ethan turned to face her, and extended his hands. She took them lightly in her own, then bowed her head. “Lord, I haven’t prayed much, but—”
“Holy shit,” Ethan said as he looked away from her and leaned in toward the monitor.
Cassy followed suit and leaned in as well. What was he all wound up about? So, they were now clearly visible, much closer. “What?”
Ethan pointed at the screen, practically bouncing. “Look at their guns!”
Cassy did and was underwhelmed. All the rifles she could see were AK-47s. She expected that from the invaders. “Korean AKs…”
Ethan huffed in frustration. “Yeah. But the soldiers sure as hell aren’t Korean. Who has Korean AKs but isn’t Korean, back east?”
She stared into the screen. Could it really be?
The people showing on the monitor were men and women. They were white, and black, and Hispanic. They were Americans. “My god, Ethan. They’re from Taggart? Is that possible?”
She threw her arms around Ethan and they both jumped up and down. “Ethan… We’re saved!”
- 28 -
0445 HOURS - ZERO DAY +257
JAZ SAT AT the folding card table the Manheimers had set up outside of town, a makeshift command post closer to the action than their actual HQ in town. That was Choony’s idea, smart as always. After sitting for a few minutes, her arms and legs had grown lead weights somehow. That was the only explanation for how heavy her limbs felt. She was totally wiped out. The concussion probably didn’t help.
With what felt like superhuman effort, she was able to once again slide the bandage up and out of her eyes. Choony had bandaged it like, a thousand times, but it kept coming loose. Her scalp wound was just in an awkward location on her head. She didn’t mind it being loose, though, since it hurt her skull when it was tight.
“You Clanners and your recruits were vital to this victory. You know that, right? We almost collapsed even with you guys here, but when you went on the counterattack—on your own, no less—it motivated our troops. We shouldn’t have won this battle.” His name was like, Charlie or Carl, or maybe Dan. Jaz couldn’t remember. Her eyelids felt like they had weights on.
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” she managed to get out. “I’m glad we could help. Truth is, Choony and I were just, like, at the right place at the right time. It’s not like we fought them alone—we had our Army of 300 running around in squads—and your people saved us a few times.”
Choony sat down, finally—his pacing had become annoying—and said, “In fact, from what we learned on the radio, our distracting all these Empire goons here at Manheim probably saved the day at Clanholme.”
The lieutenant said, “How did Clanholme hold out? I know they had reinforcements from all over the Confederation, but still, fighting at least two regiments…”
Jaz tilted her head back to look at the still mostly dark sky, but that made her dizzy so she leaned forward again. “The Clan had some secret weapons that helped. But from what they told us, it almost wasn’t enough. It was still a close call, just like here.”
In the distance, sporadic gunfire still played out as Manheim finished mopping up Empire stragglers. The battle was over, but a few enemy survivors hadn’t yet got the memo. Plus, Manheim was hunting down survivors as best they could, keeping as many as they could from heading home to fight again. Mercy was in short supply these days.
“What sort of secret weapons?” His voice pitched upward at the end. He sounded surprised and maybe envious. Or paranoid.
“We got cars working,” Jaz said. “Armored them up, put on turrets and hood guns. Like something out of a cheesy ’80s road warrior-type flick. And we got some really old planes working. Not much in the way of guns, but they gave good info for troop movements, and they dropped a lot of little dynamite bombs.”
“Wow. Impressive. And what is the Clan planning on doing with those after this war ends, may I ask?” He had leaned forward, probably without realizing it, and Jaz saw his jaw clench.
Damn. Not another paranoid soldier-type looking for enemies… “I dunno. Cassy said we’d be sharing the technology, or whatever, so everyone in the Confederation gets them. Maybe through advisors or something.”
“Why not just tell us so we can make our own?” His eyebrows furrowed together.
“You’re a lieutenant, not a president, and I’m not even on the Clan’s leader council. What the hell do I know? I only just found out we had them.”
“Maybe you should tell us what you really know, since you’re such good friends.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t make enemies out of friends, mister. In case you forgot, we just fought alongside you. Shut the hell up or I’m going to go find your C.O. and let them know about your sudden interest in shit that’s over your pay-grade.” Jaz felt a kick to her calf under the table, cutting off the awesome trash talk she was about to spit at this jackass wannabe.
Choony coughed, a deliberate sound, and said, “Lieutenant, you’ll have to forgive her. As exhausted as you are, she traveled far even before this battle began, and she’s injured.”
The Manheim officer clenched his teeth, but instead of snapping back, he shut up. Good for him. Too bad the little spaz hadn’t figured out how to shut up before he did his best to cause a flipping diplomatic incident. Jaz let out a huff. Time to change the subject. She turned to Choony and said, “We should get going. I want to get back to Clanholme to eat and, like, sleep for a year.”
Choony stood and offered his hand to the lieutenant, who paused but then shook. “You and your people fought well today,” Choony said.
“Thanks. Yours did, too.” The lieutenant stood and made his way out.
“I don’t like that guy,” Jaz said when he disappeared. “Let’s go. If you don’t drive like Grandma Mandy, we could be there in time for breakfast.”
Choony laughed. He raised both eyebrows and said, “Have you seen how she drives? The wagon’s airborne half the time. She’s dangerous behind the reins, I tell you.”
* * *
An hour until breakfast, the computer chirped its distinctive alert for incoming messages. It was the theme song from the most popular multiplayer online role-playing game. Damn, that alert was reserved for the annoying popup box the 20s had hacked onto his system long ago. He had moved it to a protective “sandbox,” of course, so they couldn’t see his real system information. A small gesture of defiance on his part. He trudged to the computer, ran the suite of programs he used to protect his computer and decipher their transmission, then waited for it to decode. It didn’t take long. Then the green, monochrome chat box opened up as usual.
Watcher1 >> Good morning, sunshine
D.Ryder >> It was. I was dreaming of the best fast-food on th planet. So what’s up
Watcher1 >> Happened 2 b a bird over u yesterday. Quite a show !
D.Ryder >> Meh. It was alright. The middle sucked but th end wuz uber kewl.
Watcher1 >> Ya, so anyways, what did u think of the supplies we sent Taggart?
D.Ryder >> Can u b more specific?
Watcher1 >> The drones and computers we sent. Seems a bird got a pic of them coming into your area but it never came out.
D.Ryder >> Huh. Well, u know there was raiders all over the area so maybe they got it.
Watcher1 >> Yeah maybe. But the King Under the Mountain doesn’t think so.
D.Ryder >> Yeah? Why’s that? It could happen.
Watcher1 >> I thought so 2. But I hear he doesn’t agree. Says he made arrangements the whole way for it 2 go thru without problms.
D.Ryder >> Any chance General Whosit, in Penn, or General Ree in New Jersey, got them 1st? Seems like a long way 2 go these days
Watcher1 >> [Watcher1 has changed his name to BcarefulNwatchUrAss]
BcarefulNwatchUrAss >> [BcarefulNwatchUrAss has changed his name to Watcher1]
Watcher1 >> I think the General may be doubting your loyalty to his cause. U shud b on xtra-good behavior 4 a while if u want 2 stay on the winning team
D.Ryder >> I assure you that I’m on board Team Houle. I don’t know what happened to the supplies, but I will have our peeps keep their eyes open to see if there’s evidence in other towns. One of them maybe? They wouldn’t have known it was for Tag
gart. What was in them, so that we can be alert for anyone trying to offload or use it?
Watcher1 >> It doesn’t matter. See what you can find out, but the contents are Need-to-Know, and I don’t need to know so they didn’t tell me.
D.Ryder >> OK, well I will keep eyes out for anything, whatever I can without knowing the contents. If I find out anything I will let u know
Watcher1 >> 10-4. I hope you r right becuz if Houle suspects u stole Army property in wartime, then u and ur Clan r in for a ruf time. I’ll let the 20s know u don’t have it but r looking. Watcher1 out.
<
Ethan didn’t bother to shut down the sandbox or the “virtual machine” he ran it in for security’s sake. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a long while, mind racing. An uneasy feeling had lodged in his gut, and he tried to rationalize it away but couldn’t. He was fearful of the 20s, and Houle, for good reason.
If Houle was catching on to him… He knew too much for them to let him walk away, that was certain. Ethan was probably the only other person on Earth who knew the details of how and why America had detonated bombs to create many large-scale EMPs, darkening the rest of the planet just as America had been darkened. Houle wouldn’t want that loose end left uncut, running around spreading rumors, even if they were true. Especially since they were true.
Ethan picked up his notebook, a 5” by 7” journal that he used as both day-planner and to scribble notes and ideas, and began brainstorming just how he might reassure the General of his loyalty. Turning in Nestor should have done the trick, even though Ethan had only done it after becoming convinced—wrongly—that Nestor’s Night Ghosts had turned to banditry. The only way for Ethan to really prove his worth was to find out what the General wanted. He’d have to try to drag that info out of Watcher One, as he didn’t know anyone else in Houle’s circle, but he didn’t know how to put leverage on the guy to get the information he needed. Ethan would have to think of something, though.
Dark New World (Book 5): EMP Resurrection Page 39
