by Ford, Lizzy
Even so, four of the Horsemen—the ones based here—were missing. Lana leaned her elbows on her knees, staring hard at the wall. Four keypads gone with one making its way back to the command center. Where were the other three?
She rubbed the back of her neck, mentally wired despite her fatigue. Four keys capable of destroying a continent—and winning a war—were taken under their noses. They may have been missing before she arrived; no one took accountability of something no one was supposed to have access to. One of those with access was declared unfit; did he have enough scruples left to steal and hide three more keypads?
Her eyes strayed to the Horsemen on the table. The quiet voice of her instincts was at a shout. No matter what was going on, she had to protect the keys capable of destroying the world. Lana reached into her bag and pulled out her personal vault. She opened it and stacked the keys in it.
“Elise to command.”
Lana jerked, afraid she’d been caught, before she realized Elise was calling over the command center’s channels. She leaned forward and slapped the pad, and Elise’s grim face lit up the central screen. She was heavily armed, sweating, and outside the compound.
“I’m here, Elise.”
“Heya,” Elise said, flashing a quick smile. “We need access to the emerops due west. Sending coords.”
“You’re that far out?” Lana asked in surprise. Her gaze flickered to the screen beneath her fingertips, and she typed the alarm disarm codes.
“We need a place to hide for a bit.”
“Why?”
“Let’s say, this isn’t what we expected.”
“It’s open. What isn’t what you expected, Elise?” Lana asked impatiently, standing. She made her way to the desk before the central screen and leaned against it.
“It’s chaos. We left the compound and got ambushed by people we mistook for refugees.” Elise gave a few hand signals to her detail. “You have medical supplies in the depot?”
“Yes. I’ll arm its perimeter as soon as you’re in.”
“Thanks. I’ll check in later. Elise out.”
“Wait, Elise, can’t you tell me what’s going on out there?”
Elise hesitated then said, “Frankly, I don’t know. We can’t figure out who we’re fighting. I swear I saw PMF fighting alongside us earlier against the guys who attacked us. I gotta go, Lana.”
Frowning, Lana remained before the screen even as the blond woman disappeared. Both Elise and the Guardian were grim about the world outside the compound, and neither explained exactly why. Elise’s news of the PMF fighting alongside her forces wasn’t something Lana expected to hear. She crossed her arms, considering.
Just one of the missing keypads was enough to cripple half the country. If well placed, it could wipe out the government. She returned to the communications station.
“This is command center calling for Colonel Larry Jessup,” she said.
“Savannah station, Lieutenant Huss. Wait one, ma’am.”
She returned to her chair, eyes straying to the screen displaying the timeline of the nuke attacks that had plummeted the eastern part of the country into chaos.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. Lana crossed to the screen and touched it, bringing up details of the attacks. She rifled through the data of each one. The timing on all four attacks was the same to the hundredth of a second.
“Ma’am?”
She ignored the voice and stepped back, staring.
“This is Colonel Jessup.”
“Larry, this is Lana at the command center,” she said, forcing her attention back to the communications center. “What’s the location on my keypad?”
“Hold one, ma’am.”
She checked the locator as she waited, seeking out General Greene on the compound. He was touring the perimeter, as he did daily. She sent him a page through his personal net and sat down again.
“It should have reached you by now,” Larry answered. “No word?”
“None.”
“I’ll check their location and contact you. Jessup out.”
“This an emergency?” General Greene asked, his voice muffled over the communications system.
“I’ll come to you, sir,” she replied.
“You got my location.”
She jogged across the compound to the area of one of the breaches. A charred hole still smoked in the compound’s wall. Three bodies were laid out in a row beside it. She stopped, unfamiliar with the sight of death. General Greene addressed well-armed sentinels. Lana neared, forcing her gaze away from the three bodies as she waited. He broke away before she reached him, instead striding towards her. He gripped her arm to turn her away from the scene and set off at a quick march.
“They’re using some fancy equipment. We’re doubling the guards. This better be important, Lana. I’ve got stuff to do,” he said, terse.
“All four are missing. One is on its way back,” she told him. “One we don’t need to worry about.”
He released her once they were away from the scene. “Why don’t we need to worry about one of the keypads?”
“Sir, the attacks on the eastern seaboard were caused by one of the keypads. It’s been used.”
He stopped and faced her, frown deepening. “What’re you saying? That one of ours sold the keypad to the PMF?”
“I don’t know, sir.” She rushed on, “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. The attacks were too powerful for the capabilities of our enemies alone. Think about it, sir. The timing, the sophistication, the expertise needed to launch such an attack. They used our skills against us. There’s no other—
“Stop,” he ordered. “I will not believe that even the madman Arnie could have done something like this. You’re talking about high treason at the VP level at least to access those things.”
“Sir, you asked me to tell you what I think about—”
“Not this. You think about what I tell you to think about,” he snapped.
Surprised, she fell silent.
“Now, focus on locating the other three keypads. Keep me apprised of when the troops bring in the one they found down the mountain. Tear apart the compound if you must. If I hear this nonsense again, I’ll send you outside the walls to deal with this mess personally.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, wilting beneath his fierce glare. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’re a good girl. Stay a good girl,” he said, softening. “I think you need some sleep. Report back tomorrow morning.”
He turned and strode away. Lana watched him, at a loss at what to think of his reaction. She wasn’t wrong. There was no other logical scenario. She watched General Greene stride towards the command hub.
As good as he had been to her, she didn’t doubt his threat. And if he chose to expel her, no one there would defend her, just as no one defended crazy Arnie. Arnie’s antics hadn’t started until the second week on the compound. General Greene was the first to recommend his removal, and a voice in her mind whispered that maybe Arnie had figured something out he shouldn’t have, too.
General Greene hadn’t acted surprised about the missing keypads. Lana glanced at her micro, which still worked on breaking through his messages. She had no proof he’d done anything wrong. And who wouldn’t recommend Arnie’s removal with his increasingly erratic behavior?
She turned away and started towards the barracks. Maybe she did need sleep.
The compound was the eye of a storm. Brady and his men paused after two rigid security inspections and being granted permission to enter. The area beyond the gates and inspections was quiet, with men and women dressed in government uniforms touring the compound like it was any other day and not possibly the last day of the world. Guard dogs trotted forward to sniff him and his men while a doctor in a blue government jumpsuit approached them, eyes pinned to the injured man carried between two others. He was smiling.
In fact, many of the people on the compound cast curious or smiling glances towards them. Brady peeled his face mask
off and lowered the muzzle of his weapon, unnerved by the unrealistic utopia after the three-day battle up the side of the mountain. The people were doing whatever it took to survive outside the walls, and they’d run across more men in Western uniforms.
“I’m all right. Check him,” Dan grunted as the waiting medic in blue approached. He put pressure on his injured leg with a grimace but gestured towards the unconscious soldier hanging between two others.
Brady took his friend’s arm.
“Looks bad,” Dan said. He pushed Brady’s cheek to see the black-purple bruise ringing his throat from where one of the animals outside the walls had tried to rope and hang him.
“Yeah,” Brady whispered hoarsely. It was the loudest word he’d uttered in two days.
“Major Brady, Dan,” a gruff voice boomed.
They turned to see the tall five-star general stride towards them, right arm still at his side while his other swung. The gray-haired man had an olive complexion and sharp blue eyes that swept over all of them. He raised a critical eyebrow at the end of his inspection.
“General Theodore Greene,” he said, offering his left hand.
Both shook the proffered hand, surprised to be greeted by a man once charged with overseeing the wars abroad.
“It’s an honor, sir,” Dan managed. “I hadn’t heard you returned from overseas.”
General Greene motioned them forward, slowing when he saw Dan limp. Brady tugged Dan’s mask off, gaze roving the compound. Gray buildings squatted amid neatly kept green lawns and paved walkways. A single road snaked through the compound downhill towards a forest.
At any moment he expected the people around him to whip out lasers and attack. The feds ignored the newcomers after a few looks, content to stroll and chat as if nothing were amiss anywhere.
“You have the box?” General Greene asked as they walked.
“Yes, sir,” Dan said, elbowing Brady from his observations. Brady reached into his cargo pocket.
“Wait,” the general said at his movement. His lips spread into a grim line. “Wait ’til we’re in the command hub.”
Brady exchanged a look with Dan. “What is it, sir?” he managed in a whisper.
“What happened to you?”
“Someone tried to string him up. Keeps him quiet, though,” Dan quipped.
“It’s a dangerous toy is what it is,” General Greene responded. “You both need to see the docs.”
“We’re fine, sir,” Dan assured him.
“After we’re done, you’ll see the doc, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brady hid a smile. He agreed; Dan needed a doctor. His leg was hurt, and only his stubbornness kept him from surrendering to shock. His face was pale and clammy, his wit sharp but his eyes glazed. Brady was as worried about Dan as any of his men.
“You all look like hell. How bad is it out there?” the general asked.
“A warzone,” Dan said. “No supplies, no water, no food, hundreds of thousands of refugees trying to survive on nothing.”
“And our enemies?”
“Mixed in with the rest of the survivors, like any good insurgency. Their numbers are far greater than anything we ever imagined.”
And far better well armed, Brady added silently. The fighters were armed as well as the army and the government’s special protective services and in many cases, with the same equipment.
The general nodded, looking grim but not surprised.
As they neared a pentagon-shaped building, Brady took in the clumsy metal door that didn’t quite fit the frame. The access pad appeared as though it had been shot with a laser gun; it was blackened and melted. He shared another look with Dan. All was not quite as it seemed in the peaceful compound. The laser markings matched similar damage seen on the eastern wall, which they found when they circled the compound.
One of the two guards pulled the heavy door open. The interior of the command hub was darkened, aside from the light of systems and screens on all the walls. It was cool and manned by several people in fed uniforms.
“Turn that off, Lana,” the general ordered in a softer tone as he glanced towards a woman manning the screen on the left. Imaging of the mountain flashed off and was replaced by a screen full of colors and letters Brady didn’t understand.
“Are these the troops?” a blond woman asked, dressed in tactical clothing and sporting advanced weaponry that reminded Brady just how elite the positions in the special protective service were considered. Their recruits came from the elite class, while the regular army came from the poor. Even the regular military’s special forces teams were not as well equipped as the pretty, frowning woman before them.
“Elise, you’re taking your men out to the west side for supplies tonight,” the general replied.
“Wonderful idea, sir,” the blond replied with enough irreverent sarcasm that Brady was taken aback.
“You’re in the dungeon next week,” the general muttered. “I’d trade you all for two men like these here.”
The woman named Elise grimaced but made no response.
“Do you have the keypad?”
Brady whipped around at the familiar voice, staring at the petite brunette before him in surprise. He sought to remember what the general had called her. He knew her as Angel. Her expression was grave, her brown eyes solemn. The woman before him was younger than he expected and cute in an elfin way, with large eyes, a tapered chin, delicate jaw line, and expressive brow. She was neatly dressed with dual ranks, that of Special Assistant to the VP and Special Assistant to Mr. Tim’s position. His gaze lingered on the dual ranks, and he almost smiled.
She was at least loyal to Mr. Tim. It was customary to wear the highest rank, and the VP trumped Mr. Tim twice over.
This was no normal government compound, he realized. With the former Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces and the Special Assistant to the VP, not to mention the biofields, electromagnetic fields, and other beefed security measures, the compound at the top of the mountain was a fortress commanded by the President’s own right-hand man. A chill swept through him as he realized how significant—and isolated—the command center was.
“Give the woman the keypad,” Dan said in amusement, jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow.
Brady blinked, realizing he was staring at her and everyone was staring at him. He hastily reached into his cargo pocket and retrieved the keypad. She snatched it and swept past him, popping it open as she neared a wall covered in a titanium glass screen.
“Happy?” the general called after her.
“Yes, sir.”
Brady watched Angel carefully place the keypad into a wall with several others, then secure them behind a thick shield of titanium glass. She lowered the titanium glass and stepped away, tossing the case onto a desk.
“C’mon, boys,” the general said, ushering them towards the doors. “I’ll take you to the docs.”
Brady followed with reluctance, intrigued to meet the woman whose voice had kept him company for several long weeks.
“Lana, walk with us,” the general added.
The brunette obeyed, taking her place at his left. Brady’s attention instinctively shifted to their surroundings as he sought threats among the quiet surroundings of the secured compound.
“Lana is my right hand. Let her know what you and your men need,” the general instructed them. “I gave explicit orders to Savannah that you’d remain with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Dan said, though Brady heard in his voice he was not happy with the decision.
“I won’t subject you to Elise and her insubordinate rabble, but you’ll remain with the other army seniors here as my advisors.”
Angel fiddled with her mini-computer as she walked. She tapped her earpiece, listened intently, and responded with a few words.
“Florida communications are up,” she reported.
Brady opened his mouth to address her before remembering the best he could manage was a croak. Dan glanced towards her.
> “What is this, the command center for everything this side of the Mississippi?” Dan joked.
Both Lana and the general turned icy, less-than-impressed looks on him, and for once, Brady was glad he couldn’t speak. He’d been about to ask a similar question. Instead, he watched red creep up Dan’s face. He jabbed him in the arm, entertained by his unflappable friend’s discomfort.
“On second thought, you can join Elise’s men,” the general replied in a clipped tone.
Lana smiled faintly, meeting Brady’s gaze again. Her brow furrowed in guarded curiosity as he stared at her. Brady looked away, aware she didn’t know him from any other man.
But he knew her now, and she was beautiful.
“Do you talk, sir?” she asked him.
“Not much since being strung up by a savage at the bottom of the mountain, ma’am,” Dan replied for him.
Her gaze shifted to the purple ring around Brady’s neck before she returned to her microcomputer.
“Oh,” she breathed, stopping midstride.
“What’s wrong?” the general demanded.
“Arnie,” she replied, paling. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Take Elise.”
She broke into a quick trot. Brady watched her, doubtful the sort of mayhem that occurred on the compound was as dangerous as that they’d encountered on their trip up the mountain. A moment later, Elise darted by with a hand laser in her grip, disappearing between the same buildings.
The general was quiet as he escorted them to one of the squat buildings and inside. The sterile scent tickled Brady’s nostrils. He lowered Dan into a chair outside the doctor’s quarters and was about to sit for a breather when the general slapped him on the arm.
“You all right here, soldier?” he asked Dan gruffly.
Dan nodded.
“Come with me, Major.”
Brady straightened and winked at Dan, who rolled his eyes in response. The general’s stride quickened as he exited the medical facilities towards the direction both women had gone.
