The highway berm had finally shallowed as the highway flattened out coming off the slope they'd been descending, but unfortunately, no four-wheel drive track conveniently appeared this time. “We'll just have to go off in the desert. I'll get us as far I can. At least they'll have to chase us on foot. And they now know we're armed; that should discourage them a bit.” The back end of their car was shaking violently now, forcing Chad to slow down even more.
“Birdshot against semi-auto rifles isn't much of a match,” Linda observed.
“Well, it's better than just rocks! Besides, if they wanted to kill us they could have just riddled the car. Like Bonnie and Clyde. So they must want us alive.”
Linda looked grim in turn. “Us, Chad? It's you they want. I'm just in the way.”
Chad had no answer to that. Turning the wheel as hard as he dared, he skidded them off the highway into the desert. The car bounced violently, so that he had to slow down even more, even as their pursuers closed the distance. He headed directly away from the right-of-way, dodging rocks and yuccas and Joshua trees, toward where he could see a sharp break in slope several hundred meters off the highway. There a low bluff rose, deeply cut by drainages that had eroded down through the surface above to the level of the near-plain where the highway lay. At least the surface here was desert pavement, a fitted mosaic of stones left behind when millennia of wind had blown away all the fine dirt. Although it was relatively smooth, it was broken up by large rocks, spiny bushes, and shallow gullies.
They ground their way toward that bluff, Chad hurrying as much as he could over the smooth areas. He tried to ignore the loud crashings and bangings beneath his vehicle, as well as its wild lurches, when he powered through the rough spots. Avoiding the yucca spines seemed less important since they already had a tire holed. They both could see, in the rearview, their pursuers starting to slow to a halt along Highway 95 at the point where they'd left it.
Finally, they were brought up short with a tremendous thud while trying to cross a shallow drainage. Chad floored the accelerator, to be rewarded by nothing more than engine whine. The car didn't budge.
“Well, we're hung up,” he said. He shut off the motor. “Let's go!”
They both got out the driver's door to use the cover of the vehicle itself as much as possible. Carrying their shotguns, they ran hunched over toward the nearest point on the bluff broken by a drainage. They wove back and forth, hearing the whine of ricocheting bullets and smelling the dust they kicked up. The bullets’ accuracy was so bad it reinforced Chad's notion that the idea was to capture them by scaring them into immobility. Of course, they could also be injured—or killed—by a stray bullet, even if it hadn't been deliberately aimed.
They ducked unscathed into the mouth of the arroyo. Right here the draw was deep enough to hide a standing person, so with some relief they stood up and started up it. The footing was tricky; like all dry watercourses in the desert, scoured intermittently by the rare thunderstorm, the surface was uneven, relatively flat places alternating with patches of water-tumbled rocks. At least it wasn't straight, the vagaries of running water tending to carve a sinuous course. That way someone couldn't shoot directly up the wash toward them. Once past the first big bend, Chad and Linda even dared to step up for a cautious peek over the side of the wash back toward the highway.
The other car was stopped on the shoulder, and four men, three with semi-auto military-style rifles, had closed most of the distance to where they'd abandoned their car. The fourth man carried an odd device—it looked like some sort of bazooka, with what looked like a compressed-air tank slung underneath it. Another attacker, evidently the leader, stopped, slung his rifle, and took out binoculars. He scanned the area where they were crouched, and must have seen something. He gestured to the guy holding the bazooka device.
That fellow dropped to one knee and held the tube up at roughly a forty-five degree angle. A black projectile shot out the end with an odd foosh! It was moving just slowly enough to follow with the eye, like a clay pigeon that had just come out of the trap. It rose in a high ballistic arc, and then started falling toward them.
Linda and Chad both fired at it reflexively. The object burst into a cloud of white mist. Chad and Linda looked at each other. “Some kind of knockout gas...” At least the wind was in their favor, as the cloud drifted back toward the shooters. Another projectile followed immediately, and they burst it too. “Dead pair,” Chad joked to Linda, in a strained voice, but Linda wasn't done yet. She fired at the grenade shooter, too, for good measure. Although the range was too far for the birdshot to be much more than a nuisance, it could distract him. At least he staggered back momentarily and didn't fire his launcher again. Meanwhile, the rest of the assailants were scrambling to get out of the way of the mist cloud. One obviously got a deep whiff and went sprawling, his rifle clattering onto the desert pavement.
Abruptly, bullets spattered the ground in front of them, and they dropped back hastily, stung with rock splinters and smelling the faintly metallic odor of freshly shattered rock. Obviously, the assailants had not all been knocked out with their own gas. By tacit decision Chad and Linda turned and started dodging farther up the draw, keeping crouched over while they shoved shells into their guns’ magazines. They could still hear the occasional bullets sprang and ricochet above them as they moved, but they were less frequent.
Chad finally stumbled over a stack of water-laid stones, and that break was the occasion for a brief pow-wow. “They won't chase us directly up the draw,” Chad was saying, articulating what they'd already done. “They'd worry about ambush around every bend, and the range of their rifles wouldn't count for much. On the other hand, if we dawdle we'll be ambushed by attackers flanking us on both sides. And then we'll be pinned down while they can lob more balloons in at their leisure.”
Linda merely pointed out the obvious. “We've got to keep going, then. And hope this little gulch doesn't peter out.”
Which before too long it was threatening to do. The draw was becoming shallower, its sides lowering as it came up to the old land surface into which it had been incised by millennia of erosion. Finally, it was too shallow to continue in on foot, however much they crouched. If they wanted to stay completely hidden they would have to continue on hands and knees. The desert was much too open to move without being seen. Only the occasional Joshua tree gave any cover.
At least they now heard the very faint beat-beat-beat of a helicopter.
Chad dropped to the ground, motioning Linda to do the same. “This isn't going to work, Linda,” he whispered. “If we crawl we'll just get exhausted, and they'll pick us off because we'll be so slow. Let's double back. They can't see us down here, and that will buy some more time. We should also spread out, so one balloon doesn't get us both.”
Linda nodded. They wiggled around and started back the way they'd come, now moving very slowly and cautiously, about ten meters apart, listening intently. They hadn't heard any shots in some time—evidently their pursuers had realized it just gave their positions away. Chad stifled a sneeze from the dust he stirred up as he scuffed along. At length he could get to his feet again, although staying hunched over.
Chad thought he heard a faint noise. He stopped, holding back his hand; Linda dropped back into cover. A flicker out of the corner of his eye caught his attention—a flying black sphere. He turned and fired at the balloon reflexively, but it was too close. He smelled a sharp chemical odor as his shot burst it in midair, and then the world started spinning. “Where is that damned chopper?” was his last thought before everything went black.
* * * *
Chad woke up disoriented, with a headache like a construction crew working between his ears. He winced and groaned, nearly overcome with nausea, then hesitated as memory flooded back. He thought about feigning sleep again, but realized it was too late.
“Chad! You're awake!”
With relief Chad recognized Linda's voice. Surely she wouldn't sound so chipper if they'd been capt
ured. He opened his eyes, to register a blurry image of a strange woman in nurse's garb. And he was lying in a hospital bed. The nurse addressed him. “Chad, this'll get rid of the nausea.” He felt a sting on his arm. “You were hit with Zalin. It doesn't cause any long-term harm, but you feel very sick when you first wake up. Now lie back for a while.”
He obeyed readily. It was like a really bad hangover. Maybe the room would stop spinning if he shut his eyes again. He dozed off.
After what seemed a moment he opened his eyes. The nausea was gone—in fact, he almost felt refreshed. He saw Linda again, but instead of the nurse, General Zemani stood there.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked.
"Much better,” Chad said in heartfelt relief. “Thanks for sending in the cavalry. I thought you were going to be too late there.”
Zemani gestured at Linda, “Thank your companion. She kept them busy. She wounded a couple, in fact.”
“I don't think they took a woman seriously, even one with a gun,” she said. “I stayed under cover, and then hit ‘em in their gun hands as they ran up when they saw you go down. Then they couldn't hold onto their rifles anymore. Even if the shot just stung. In fact, the guy with the launcher just threw it away and fled. Then I went over and kicked the rifles away and told them to stay down. I racked some more shells into the magazine just for effect. They didn't feel like doing much else by then. And about then the helicopter landed.”
Chad noticed for the first time that Linda had a bandage along her left arm. “You got hit!”
“Only spattered with some rock chips,” she said. “I stayed well down. Those guys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn anyway. The shotgun was actually better at close range.”
Zemani picked up the story. “The one assailant who wasn't either wounded or knocked out with their own gas was picked up by the sheriff on Highway 95. A car without a windshield was pretty obvious! So all the suspects are in custody. A couple are hospitalized with quite a bit of subcutaneous birdshot.”
“If I'd had buckshot rather than birdshot they'd've been dead," Linda remarked with some heat. “I was playing for keeps at that point.”
General Zemani chuckled. “Yes, it's funny how being shot at does that to you.”
Linda abruptly looked startled and then a bit chagrined. She stared directly at Zemani, “I guess you must have first-hand experience with that sort of thing.” It wasn't a question.
Zemani replied, with an uncharacteristic overtone of amusement, “You could say that. But we don't have time for war stories now.” He turned back to Chad. “Mr. Gutierrez, it appears the party chasing you was working for a foreign power. Right now we're not sure which one, because they've hidden the source of the money pretty well. They hired some local talent to grab you.” Zemani, looking more serious, continued, “You're very lucky they cut corners like that. No way trained special forces would have blundered the way those thugs did. Anyway, our apologies. We had no idea that you were perceived as that valuable. So we're giving you a couple of bodyguards. Please don't try to give them the slip. I don't think you want to meet the people who tried to nab you.”
“Not much chance of that, after this latest go-round!” Chad said emphatically. He shook his head, and then wished he hadn't. “I guess I've gotta stop going to Tonopah!” he managed to joke weakly.
Zemani actually grinned again. “Good for you! Joking helps. We also have some new information. Another of the problematic"—Chad noted he avoided saying “alien"—"devices was found. Well, on careful probing with neutrons the device proved not to contain a reservoir of antimatter. Hence it is incapable of blowing itself up, at least according to the majority of the scientists. So we are now investigating it more aggressively.” He held out a small disk to Linda, “Here's the press release and background information.”
Linda accepted the packet with a query. “For immediate release?”
“For immediate release,” Zemani confirmed. “We've also put the information up on our Web site.”
“Well, if it's just an empty antimatter reservoir maybe I still have a job,” Chad said. “Total matter conversion would have made us as obsolete as buggy whips.”
Zemani's cell phone went off. Surprised, he answered immediately, “Zemani here.”
A pause, and then an exclamation, was followed by, “That doeschange things, doesn't it? Thank you for letting me know, Colonel.”
Zemani flipped the phone closed. “I was only supposed to be interrupted if it was very important. And it seems to be. That was Colonel Toth. There's been a report of a nuclear blast in far western China. It's been verified by satellite, but there's no official word from the Chinese. There's a highly unofficial rumor, though, that after detecting no antimatter the Chinese team also went in aggressively, as we did. And then the thing blew.”
Zemani stuck the phone back into his pocket. “If that's true, we're back to square one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“Are there other devices under investigation, General?” Linda queried mock-innocently.
“I'm sorry, Ms. McPherson, I can't comment on that now.” As he strode out of the room, Zemani beckoned to a figure who'd appeared in the doorway. “You remember Mr. Braun.” Chad had sat up in the bed, and shook hands when Braun walked over. “Mr. Gutierrez needs to be driven home, and he needs a new loaner car. Ms. McPherson, you may follow them if you wish.” It sounded almost like an order.
Linda was clearly torn. She turned toward Chad momentarily, and then turned back, looking at Zemani. “Please keep me posted, General!” Linda finally said to Zemani's retreating back.
* * * *
Chad set his margarita down for a moment on the patio table. Linda sat next to him. It was nice to feel okay again; that antidote they'd given him had finally worked. The evening was pleasant and still, with a crescent Moon looming over the Spring Mountains. Braun and his partner weren't obtrusive, either, spending their time in the nondescript van parked on the street. Chad drained his drink. “I'm grateful we're okay,” he commented. “That's a lot closer call than I'd like.”
Linda nodded. She'd written up their experiences first thing—"I don't want to be scooped on my own story,” she'd said—but reaction had set in with her, too. “Yeah, I know. One firefight in a lifetime is plenty.” She snuggled closer while he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You know, I've always tried to be prepared for something like that,” she said. “But the real thing...” she shook her head. “At least I came through. But I don't want to have to try again!”
Chad chuckled shortly, spinning the ice in his glass with his free hand. “I once heard an adventure described as a very unpleasant experience that happened to someone else. Of course, now I get a chance to worry again about my job. Who's going to need fuel from fatty bugs if you can convert matter directly into energy?” He paused. “Have you heard anything more about that?”
Linda shook her head. “I keep calling him, but Zemani keeps palming me off with promises. And nobody else knows anything at all. Something's got to happen, though. If nothing else, nuclear explosions are hard to hide ... what's that?" she trailed off in surprise, looking at the Moon. A brilliant point had appeared in the nightside crescent: between the horns, where no star should be. They stared transfixed, watching the point of light wax in intensity and then begin to fade after a few minutes or so.
Chad and Linda looked at each other. “Do you think...?”
“Yes. It was,” Chad said. “Get on the horn to Zemani. Maybe he can talk to you now!”
Linda did just that, flipping on her phone's speaker so Chad could hear too. Bypassing the routine greetings, Linda asked about the lunar light.
“Yes, we just saw it, too. Preliminary indications are that it's a nuclear explosion, but no details yet.” Zemani paused, and they could hear muffled conversation. “What's even worse is that we're picking up reports of other explosions with nuclear signatures around the world. According to the gamma-ray data from the monitoring satelli
tes, anyway.”
“Do you know where they are, General?” Linda asked blandly.
“We have fixes on just a few at this point. In the Antarctic, off the Ross Ice Shelf. The Bering strait—that one has triggered a tsunami alert....”
Zemani stopped and changed the subject abruptly. “Mr. Gutierrez, your safety could be a matter of national security, and I'm ordering you to Nellis. We have VIP quarters where you can stay till this is resolved. Ms. McPherson, you may come along too if you wish.” The phone clicked off.
They heard a noise behind them, and—just as Chad had figured—there stood Braun and his partner. “We can help you pack some things quickly, Chad,” Braun said. He'd established first names, at any rate. “But we need to get to Nellis as soon as possible.”
He grabbed the jewelry rock off the dresser on his way out. Just like a kid with a rabbit's foot,he thought, amused at himself. But it wastoo valuable just to leave lying around.
Though he was having doubts about its being a good-luck charm.
* * * *
Linda was driving, Chad's car being again in the shop, and they were following the bodyguards’ car. They were quiet for a minute.
"What's going on?” Chad spoke for both of them.
“Well, let's think about it. A couple of the objects were being investigated intensely and blew themselves up. First the one at Gold City, and now the one in China. In fact, more than a couple were being investigated intensely, because there was that new one that Z. told us about. Maybe it was supposed to blow itself up, too.” Linda was thinking aloud.
“So the one Z. told us about was a dud.” Chad made it a statement.
“Undoubtedly. We already knew the devices looked pretty dilapidated.”
Analog SFF, May 2007 Page 6
