Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  All things considered, she took it remarkably well. Jack watched her face as she stared back at him, her jaw set, her eyes flicking back and forth searching for anything in his eyes that could tell her something more. She exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. She'd had her own suspicions about Dakkah and Mozzy's death, so it appeared the truth was not as painful as Jack anticipated. He was thankful for that... for both of them. His earpiece chirped. “Burning daylight, sir...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Packed solid with a river of abandoned vehicles, the ribbon of highway stretching from the Air and Space Port, to Veloria's capital city, was impassable in both directions as far as the eye could see. The parking lots, drives and fields surrounding the approach side of the port were littered with private and commercial cars and trucks of all types and descriptions. Thankfully, overnight, the Marines of Foxtrot were able to clear a small path through the mess across the highway and through the fields west of the port. It wasn't as crucial for the hover tanks as it was for the wheeled trucks they were using for the transports. Cross country travel would be in order until they came across surface roads that were passable.

  The blue glow under the hover tanks left no trail, no mark on the green grass of the meadows or the flowers populating the fields. They bent and swayed before standing up again... only to be trampled and crushed beneath the tires of the trucks that followed. The tanks fanned out in a delta formation while the trucks followed behind, single file.

  The formation followed along the four-lane highway for awhile, keeping it in sight to their left before breaking away when it came to a river with steep banks that neither the trucks nor tanks could navigate. They followed the river to the North, looking for a place to cross to bring them back on a heading that would get them where they wanted to go.

  “Town ahead, Captain.”

  Steele keyed the mic on his earpiece. “Copy. Spread out, we'll jump off here and move in together.” He turned to the driver of the truck, “We'll get out here, hang back until we clear the area.” The driver nodded, bringing the truck to a stop, the troops piling out the back. With both trucks empty, the Marines spread out as they approached the town, wading through the tall grass.

  “I don't see a damn thing, Skipper. It looks vacant, just like everything else we've seen...”

  It looked like a medium-sized rural town of a couple thousand people, something Jack was used to seeing in the Midwest of the United States. It was familiar yet different. The architecture of the houses was more organic, rounded. He turned to Alité who was two paces off his right. She was focused on the houses ahead, looking through the sight on her carbine. He keyed his mic as they neared the back of the first house, “Anybody see anything?”

  “Negative...”

  “OK, let's take a look around, see if we can find anything.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Though the town looked a little overgrown, it was in pristine condition. Not a mark, not even a broken window to be found. An occasional vehicle parked at a curb, most of the houses, stores and buildings were open but unoccupied... like every single person had simply left for the day. Standing with Alité and several Marines in the town's center at its crossroads, Jack stared at the curios shop across the street, its display windows full of trinkets and collectables. On the other corner, the food store stood empty, it's shelves barren, picked clean to the last item.

  Dayle Alaroot adjusted his carbine sling. “Whadya thinking, Skipper?”

  Alité looked at Dayle. “What..?”

  “I've seen that look before,” replied the Warrant Officer, “his wheels are turning...”

  Jack keyed his mic, “Anybody see a tool shop or hardware store...?”

  “Just left one... about a mile north of the center of town on the main drive, up the hill,” replied a voice in his earpiece. “Why?”

  “How did it look inside?”

  “Nobody there, sir.”

  “How were the shelves, the stock?”

  There was silence for a moment before the answer came back. “I guess there were a lot of tools missing... not as empty as the food store we saw up here, though...”

  “Copy that...” Steele turned back to Dayle, “I don't think we're really alone...” He hiked up his carbine and began surveying windows around them. “Pull everybody back. Now.”

  Dayle keyed his mic, “All units regroup on me, double-time.” He flipped open the small panel and thumbed the locator beacon mounted to the armor on his arm and dropped to one knee, surveying the buildings and windows around them, his carbine at the ready. “What did you see, Skipper...?”

  Steele's little voice was whispering in his ear and it was making his hair stand up. “No food...” He checked over his shoulder as one of the hover tanks came gliding up the street. “People need food. If there was no one here there'd be plenty of food in the stores. Survivors need food, tools and supplies. That stuff is all missing.”

  “Maybe people passing through?”

  Jack thought for a second, “No. They'd be messy, this town would be a wreck. Whoever it is, cares about this place...”

  His earpiece pinged, “Captain, Hover Four... We've found a bridge... you're going to want to see this...”

  “Copy that. Mark your location and hold position.” He flipped open the small panel on the left arm of his armor and saw the ID marker appear on the four inch color screen showing the terrain, town and topography. He flipped it closed again, giving another glance around. “Let's go, we'll leave them their town...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Through the town, up the hill, and winding through the wooded area that it backed up against, on the far side, north of town, the road cut left heading west and crossed the river. The terrain was higher here and the arched bridge was the highest point for miles, the two-lane road sloping down and away between rolling hills, fields and broad stands of trees. Houses and farms dotted the landscape as it stretched off to the horizon. Far to the left, the dark line of the highway was still visible, like a dirty slash across the landscape, pointing toward the city. The city... a lifeless gray blemish on the horizon, spread out in all directions, vertical streaks reaching into the sky, looking broken and ragged. A gray curtain of dust seemed to be perpetually suspended above the city like the dark cloud of death.

  Steele exhaled heavily; this is not what he'd hoped to see. It was however, what he expected... and it saddened him that he was right. A glance to his left and he saw the look of pain on Alité's face... a mixture of despair, anger and frustration. He keyed his mic, “Mount up, we're moving out.” She walked numbly as he guided her to the truck.

  The column of vehicles moved sedately up the road to the city, one of the hover tanks occasionally heading to the closest hilltop to get a better view as the city disappeared below the hills and trees.

  Steele grabbed the door handle, “Stop! Stop!” The driver jammed the brakes, making the truck shudder and the wheels hop, the truck behind them doing the same to keep from ramming them. Jack flung the door open and climbed to the roof of the truck.

  Alité climbed out after him, “Jack, what is it...?!”

  “Can't you smell it?” he yelled, pointing to the crops on the hill to the right of the road. “The crops are fresh-cut... There are people out here. They're hiding.”

  “But why?” she asked.

  “That's the sixty-four-thousand dollar question...”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind,” he chuckled, climbing down and back into the cab of the truck. “Let's roll.”

  ■ ■ ■

  The roadblock consisting of abandoned cars, a truck, some wooden posts and wire, offered little resistance to the hover tanks who pushed it aside and off the road. Alité read Jack the hand scrawled signs that equated to, danger, do not enter, keep out. The city loomed large ahead, sprouting up suddenly from the surrounding hills and fields, looking out of place, with its drab grayness and desolation. It was a world of black and white surrounded b
y a world of color. At one time the tall buildings were probably shiny and beautiful, their architecture neither familiar nor remarkable. There were no suburbs, no malls, no sprawling neighborhoods like major cities on Earth. The industrial and commercial buildings seemed to be all there was, except for the highway that had been on their left from the beginning, sweeping through the city and exiting on the right, extending to the northern horizon. The road they were on widened as it entered the city, becoming one of its main thoroughfares, leading them into the grayness between the vertical rubble that reached upward. It looked like it had been abandoned, left to decay for more than a century.

  Stopping on the last rise before the road to the city flattened out, about three miles from the edge of where the urban sprawl sprang from the ground, spreading out in all directions, the troops piled out of the trucks for a better look.

  “My God,” breathed Alité, it's a wasteland...”

  Dayle Alaroot stood atop Hover One, examining the rubble and the darkening, growing curtain of dust hanging over the city with ERVs, electronic ranging viewers. “Not sure if that's a storm out there or the cloud of death...” he joked dryly. In reply, the sky split with a retina-searing flash, a massive, multi-fingered bolt of lightning touching the rubble and walking about before disappearing. “OH! Shit!” shouted Dayle, stepping back, almost dropping the viewers, his eyes smarting. He dropped to one knee and laid the viewers on the hull of the tank, rubbing his eyes, attempting to blink away the tears and the image burned into his brain.

  Jack grabbed Alité by the elbow. “Where's the palace from here?”

  “Far side of the city...”

  “How wide is the city?”

  “Eight or nine miles, why?” The thunder crashed hard enough to vibrate the ground and move the air as another flash split the sky.

  “Mount UP!” shouted Jack. He keyed his mic as he pushed Alité into the cab of the truck and climbed in next to her. “Let's backtrack to the first farm we find, we'll wait this thing out...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Lieutenant Zorvano stood in the tower of the Air and Space Port, looking northwest through the building's angled glass, his arms folded across his chest. “Have you been able to decipher it?”

  The Marine at the console shook his head. “No sir. We've been forwarding the digitals up to the Freedom; I'm hoping they can make heads or tails of it.”

  “How much chatter...”

  “Several hours' worth,” interrupted the Corporal. “They're using a coded shortwave signal. It was fast bits and pieces at first, but it got relatively steady a few minutes ago. Then cut off abruptly...”

  The Lieutenant picked up a pair of ERVs off the console to watch the electrical storm in the distance. He dialed up the zoom to bring the image closer. “That storm out there might have something to do with the signal loss... Can you reach the convoy?”

  “No, sir. Think we should send a couple birds out to check on them?”

  Zorvano laid the ERVs back on the console, “Hellion, no. I'm not risking birds in that mess. Steele's on his own until that scud clears. Hopefully they can find some low ground to hunker down in.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Facing the gusting winds, approaching rain, and staggering amount of lightning, the man standing on the hill above the road, was taking his life in his hands, waving his arms and swinging a gas lantern.

  “Tango left...” The static in Jack's earpiece almost washed out the message as he searched the terrain to see the moving light in the distance. “It looks like he's calling us, sir...” The crackling in his ear was on the brink of overwhelming.

  Wow, a real, living, breathing person, thought Jack. “Follow him...” he ordered.

  “I would urge caution, Skipper...”

  Damn this static... “He's risking his life just standing out there, Dayle... Go.”

  “Copy that.”

  The man with the lantern guided the column off the main road and up the dirt road, running alongside the lead hover tank, pointing at a hangar-sized building nestled back into the trees. “Turn everything off!” he shouted. “No electronics! Everyone inside the barn..!” Reaching the structure, he leaned in with his shoulder and rolled one of the building's big front doors to the side, reflexively ducking as a crack of lightning split through the sky.

  The Truck slid to a stop in the dirt, rocking in the wind and Jack flung the door open, dropping to the ground. “Everybody out! Let's go! Let's go!” Alité jumped down beside him and he steered her toward the barn. “C'mon people! Let's move it!” The sky opened up and the downpour fell sideways, driven by the wind, whipping them as they ran. Steele snatched the squealing earpiece from his ear and stuffed it into a pouch on his assault pack as they ran between the parked hover tanks and into the open barn, the Marines pouring through the door in a steady stream.

  The Velorian cattle shuffled uneasily in their stalls on either side of the barn, grunting softly as the farmer ran about, manually lighting gas lamps. The air was damp and musty, smelling like only wet farm animals could. “Can't use any electricity in these storms,” he called. “Turn off your gadgets, they attract the lightning.” The barn went from darkened, to warmly lit and he walked back toward the group just standing about. “Sit, relax, it may be awhile,” he waved. “These things can last a few minutes or a few hours... By the look of this one, it may be the latter.”

  Jack moved through the group as they removed their helmets, packs and weapons, making themselves comfortable, relaxed, but at the same time, cautious. “I'd like to thank you for your hospitality...” he slung his carbine over his shoulder and extended his hand. “We were beginning to think there was no one left,” he lied, hoping to open a dialog.

  They shook hands. “Nitram Marconus...” He was a gray-eyed, broad-chested man, his face tanned and lined from working in the sun. Sixtyish, with wavy, salt and pepper hair, matching mustache, an easy smile and big working hands. There was no ego in the handshake, just a warm, friendly exchange.

  “Nitram, good to meet you. Captain Jack Steele...”

  “UFW...” it was more a statement than a question.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jack.

  “What took you boys so long...”

  Alité suddenly appeared at Jack's elbow. “Boney?!” The man's eyes narrowed as he stared at her face, mentally attempting to subtract years and make her younger. She realized she still had her helmet on and wrestled it off, dropping it to the dirt floor.

  His eyes grew wide with recognition and astonishment. “Little Princess?”

  “Boney!” She jumped on him like a child on a parent, arms encircling his neck and legs around his waist. “Oh my God, it's so good to see you!”

  He staggered momentarily but stabilized, hugging her tight, laughing. “My Little Princess... I never would have guessed in a million years we'd ever see you again.” She dropped to the floor, standing in front of him and he held her at arm's length. “Let me get a good look at you... My, my,” he sighed, “More beautiful than ever.” He gestured to the Marines, “How did you wind up with these gentlemen?”

  Alité reached back and grabbed Jack's hand. “Boney, this is my husband...” Nitram's eyes widened. “He rescued me from the pirates,” she continued. “And we have a son.”

  “Oh, my. Well I can see we have a lot of catching up to do... Hopefully this storm will last long enough for us to do that,” he grinned.

  “Boney..?” asked Jack.

  “A nickname she gave me as a child,” replied Nitram, touching the tip of her nose, “when I was her doctor. Actually, I was the family's doctor.”

  Alité smiled crookedly, “Still making your own wine, Boney?”

  “How did you know about that..?”

  “Yanno.” She turned to Jack, “His son. We spent a lot of time together when we were teens.” She turned back to the doctor. “So how is Yanno?”

  “In trouble, now that I know he was stealing my wine and corrupting our Princess,” he joked. He looked
up at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the pounding rain and the rolling thunder. “Come, let me show you the wine cellar...” he turned toward the far end of the barn and motioned them along.

  A quick glance over his shoulder told Jack the Marines were absorbed in a little R&R, several standing near the windows, keeping an eye on the weather and their vehicles. He shrugged it off, following his wife and Boney. In the last stall at the back of the barn, void of animals, the doctor moved aside a little hay with his boot, bent down and grabbed a metal ring, lifting open a sizable hatch in the floor and leaning it against the back wall.

  The opening was dark, and he disappeared down a ladder invisible in the blackness of the yawning hole. Within a few seconds a light winked on, its glow lighting the entire area below. Boney's face reappeared below, looking up. “C'mon down.”

  Jack checked in with his little voice, but it was quiet. The cellar was impressive to say the least, considerably larger than your average household basement or cellar. He peered into the darkness at the far end. “Wow,” was all he could think of to say. The stone and earthen walls were lined with wooden casks, and toward the center, rows of racks standing between rough-hewn wooden pillars held hundreds of bottles of wine. The doctor disappeared into the darkness again, and shortly, more lights winked on to show the area was more than twice the size that it appeared to be, smaller rooms breaking off to the left and right.

  “I'm guessing wine isn't just your hobby?” asked Steele.

  “Well, drinking it is actually the hobby,” chortled Boney, “making it is the means to justify the end.”

  “There's enough booze down here for an army...”