by G. Adler
“I hear you. So?”
“Imagine how much power could be generated by creating a polarity between the real and the digital worlds. We are the positive, this world is the negative. As the energy builds, DANE can siphon it off.”
Ethan suddenly jumps up and says, “Wait a second. I see where you are going, but there is a problem with that. Wouldn’t the amount of energy grow to the point where even DANE couldn’t control it?”
Maya nods and says, “Yes, so it would require other brains to expand his network. The larger his system, the more energy he can channel.”
Ethan grabs at his temples and says, “I feel so violated… and not in a good way!”
I look at the ground and start to pace back and forth. The longer I think, the wider the track.
“Whatcha thinkinnnnnn, Ghost?” Maya asks.
“Byte, what happens if DANE fails to contain the energy?”
She swallows hard and takes my hand. “Then Ethan gets what he always wanted.”
“KABLOOOOOIE BABY!” Wait… was this a bad time? Too soon?”
I tighten my hand around Maya’s. She responds in kind. Joo-Eun comes over and puts her arms around our shoulders. Tyrese comes up behind her. Ethan slides in beside him. We stand that way for a few moments until I feel a shudder run through my body. It gets progressively stronger until suddenly Ethan starts to laugh, but harder than I have ever seen before. Tears fall from his eyes and he drops to his knees, letting it rip from deep in his belly. After a few moments he looks up at us, wipes a tear from his eye, and still sniggering says, “I always knew that math would fuck the world!”
Chapter 26 - General Matthews
I cough and sputter while waving at the air in front of me. The black and grey smoke is so thick that I can’t see a thing. I lift my head off the floor and see at least three fires burning in the other room. I open my mouth and try to call out to anyone who might still be alive.
“F… f… f… fire…”
My voice is so weak that it barely comes out as a whisper. I try to lift myself up push-up style but my arms feel like Jell-O and I fall flat on my face. Pieces of ash and dirt puff into my face, making me gag and spit. My breath becomes slow and shallow while I wipe the destruction from my mouth. I look to my left and see the smashed remains of my phone. It is completely gutted, much like the torso of the soldier lying beside it: the perfect metaphor for what just happened. The memory triggers a cascade of terrifying sensory inputs that make me weep and slam my fists against the remains of the shattered chopper. I see my hand dropping the phone on the floor as Marine One lost power. I picture the eyes of The President as he flew backwards against the cockpit doors. I can hear the sound of the wind as we accelerated towards the ground. I can envision the snapping of tree branches combined with the sound of shattering glass. My mind is haunted by the screaming, prayers, agony, and pain of everyone on board. Then came the silence. All that is left now is the crackling embers of the last few fires and the broken spirit of the only survivor. I sigh deeply and feel the weight build in my chest.
“DANE… how could you? How could I have been so stupid?”
I slam my fist down hard and notice the imprint of blood along with the dent. I look down at my hand and gasp. There is a six-inch-long piece of glass stuck in my forearm, just above the wrist. I quickly slide the arm away and tear a strip of cloth off of my already tattered uniform. I get on my hands and knees and take a few deep breaths.
“Okay Matthews, on three. Just like they showed you in basic. One… Two… THREE!”
With my one good hand, I tear the piece of glass from my arm while tightly wrapping the piece of cloth around the gash. I scream at the top of my lungs with each pass and my vision goes hazy for a moment. I look down at my handiwork once the waves of pain subside and realize that it is going to have to do for now.
I get on my knees and elbows, making sure to cradle my arm carefully as I try to get up. The world swirls in front of me and I reach for my forehead. A new trickle of blood reaches my palm.
“Sorry head, you are the least of my worries right now. I have to get out of here.”
I stagger to my feet and use the upturned table like a railing. I climb over the remains of the filing cabinets and spill into the main cabin.
I look around and swallow hard. It looks like some of the footage I have seen from Desert Storm. There are smouldering top-secret papers flying in the wind. All of the chairs have been torn from their moorings and sit with bolts upturned. Two of them have pieces of jagged metal sticking out that have impaled two of the soldiers, making them look like some sort of macabre shish kabob.
I shake my head back and forth as tears of lamentation fall from my eyes.
“This is all my fault! I’m so sorry. I’m SORRY. I’M SORRY!”
A sudden groan catches my attention and I rush to the front of the helicopter. The bulkhead that separates the cockpit from the main cabin is completely blown in. I can see the forms of the pilot and co-pilot crushed against the broken cabin glass. I try to grab the pilot’s shoulder only to watch his head roll off his body. The co-pilot’s left elbow is currently jammed through his ribcage. His face is twisted in an expression of painful terror that will be forever etched into my mind. I hear the sound again and start to panic.
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
A muffled tone comes from my right and I look at the piles of chairs, tables, and dismembered government aides. With a look of absolute disgust, I begin to tear my way through the pile of devastation. The cold chill from each of the bodies sends shivers up my spine until my hand locks around a set of warm fingers that are gripping onto me for dear life. A hushed voice sounds from somewhere underneath.
“I… I… I’m here!”
“Mr. President?”
I pull at the arm with all my might and hear a blood-curdling scream come from within the pile.
“Hold on, Sir. I’m going to dig you out. Something is wrong.”
I swallow hard and close my eyes as I remove all impediments, both foreign and domestic. I wince in pain with each movement and my breaths come in rasping, shallow wheezes. I tighten my jacket around what I figure are broken ribs and work as best as I can. Like a reverse jigsaw puzzle taking shape, I watch bits and pieces of the President being revealed. When I get down to him entirely, I see the problem. Aside from a huge gash across his forehead and bruises forming all over his face and arms, part of the ceiling has collapsed across his left leg, just below the knee. When I bend down to get a closer look, I can see his tibia and ankle sitting at three or four very ugly-looking angles.
“Wh… wh… what’s going on, Matthews? Give it to me straight!”
“The piece of chopper that is keeping you pinned is too big for me, even at full strength. Your leg is broken in a few places and I am afraid that lifting the piece off of it will cause you to go into shock. And that’s the good news, Sir.”
“Pardon me?”
“I am also starting to smell gas.”
I look out the back window and confirm my worst fear. The fuselage has been punctured and is leaking fuel. It is only a matter of time.
I quickly scan the room for anything that I can use as a strong lever to move the piece that is on top of him and finally find what I am looking for. I grab the shaft of the Stars and Stripes and put all my body weight behind it as I jam it into the ground just beside the President’s leg.
“What are you doing with our nation’s flag, General?”
“Letting it show its sense of patriotism, for a change. Sir, I am only going to get one good heave on this.”
The President looks at my arm and sees the seeping red that is dripping from my makeshift tourniquet.
“You’re hurt, Matthews. Stay put. EMS should be here momentarily.”
“Not if they don’t know that we’re down, Sir.”
“WHAT?”
“I’ll explain later but I think we are on our own for the moment. Just get ready to move that leg!”
“Are you out of your mind, General? You just told me it’s broken in multiple places and now you want me to move it?”
“Sir, the pain in your leg isn’t going to mean much once the leaking fuel reaches a source of ignition.”
As if to make my point, a small explosion sounds in the tail section, sending bits of the rear rotor flying through the cabin. Two pieces of shrapnel whiz just past us and embed themselves into the opposite side of the cabin.
The President looks me in the eye and says, “Do it, before I change my mind!”
“On three… one… two… THREE!”
I heave with everything I have, throwing my entire body weight against the shaft. I dig in with my heels and grimace under the strain. The sound of grating metal reaches my ear along with an ear-splitting scream. I keep the force constant for as long as I can before I hear the creaking of wood. Seconds later and the shaft snaps in two. I fall to my knees, panting, and survey the effort.
The President is on his back, his arms meshed under the knee of his mangled leg. He is panting and beads of sweat have formed on his forehead. His face is framed in agonizing pain but at least his lower half is now free.
As carefully as I can, I pick him up under his knees and shoulders. We suck in air at the same time as my bleeding arm rubs his broken leg. He looks up at me, nods, and I make a break for the sliding door. The angle of the crash has made it like a ramp leading to the outside. Step by agonizing step, I trace a path towards it around the strewn wreckage. Each movement sends spasms of pain shooting through The President’s body but the strength of his grip never falters. I look down and see an emergency pack lying among the rubble.
“Grab that, Sir. We’re going to need it.”
“General, I don’t think I can…”
“DO IT NOW!”
The force of my voice shocks his arm into action as he loops the strap around it.
“Please don’t do that again, General. That’s an order,” he pants.
“Understood, Sir.”
A huge explosion suddenly sounds behind us and I know we are out of time. I jump towards the door — legs first — while cradling my boss in my lap. The force of the first shockwave propels us forward and I hit the door like a sled. The extra energy sends us skidding to safety as the rest of Marine One disappears in a massive fireball. The fireball soars into the night sky and illuminates it like a second sun. Then just as quickly, it disappears behind a veil of smoke.
I look around and see nothing but massive trees. There is a swath of damage from the crash coming through the trees and a twenty-foot area strewn with flaming bits of helicopter. I carry us as far into the tree line as I can before my knees give out and we both spill to the ground in a heap. The gash in my arm makes contact with the ground and I see stars as I drop. I hear the President yelp in pain as he hits right after.
I gather myself up and manage to prop my boss up against a stump. His lips are blue and his pupils are different sizes. I reach into the pack and grab a foil blanket and some water.
“Sir, you’re going into hypovolemic shock. You must have other internal injuries as well. Drink this and stay still. I’ll get a campsite set up for us as best as I can.”
“B… b… b.. but y…. y… y… your ar… ar… ar… arm…”
I grit my teeth together and wince. My hand reaches down to my side and I feel my sidearm still carefully tucked in its holster. I finger it appreciatively but swallow hard for the pain that I know is coming. I fumble around in the pack and find a set of wet/dry matches. I then reach into my belt and pull out my monogrammed multi-tool. I unclip my pistol and remove a live round. Using the knife from the tool, I fillet back the edges of the bullet and use the pliers to pull it off.
“You’re going to want to avert your eyes for this next part, Sir.”
He looks over at me and says, “General…?”
Before he can say another word, I rip the tourniquet from my arm and sprinkle gunpowder up and down the gash. As soon as the casing is empty, I strike a match and touch it to my skin.
The searing pain is agonizing as I smell my skin being melted and fused by the heat. The two seconds it takes for the spark to travel up the cut feels like an eternity. I drop to my knees and vomit. When my breathing finally settles, I look at my arm and check my work.
“Well, it will leave me with a nasty scar, but anything for God and country, right, Sir?”
The President looks at me with his eyes wide.
“Holy shit, General. I knew you had mettle in you but I never realized how deep the vein ran!”
“Tha… than… thank you, Sir.” I reach into the pack and find a first aid kit, complete with three ampules of morphine. I load up a syringe with the suggested amount and flick the bubbles away.
“Hold it a second there, soldier. What are your plans for THAT?”
“This? This is just something to help you sleep, Sir. You need to rest.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot, General. I know morphine when I see it. It’s the method of delivery I am not so happy about!”
“Are you serious? The leader of the free world is afraid of needles?”
“Deathly,” he admits sheepishly.
Without entertaining another word, I jam the needle in his rear end and push down on the plunger. He gasps and his mouth twists into a grimace of fear and anger. He is about to say something when a wash of serenity passes over his face and in a hazy voice he says, “You… you… you just assaulted the… the… me… the Commander in Chief. I can have you b… brought up on barges!”
“I think you mean charges, Sir. Never mind that — I’m pretty sure that Congress has stuck it to you worse than that!”
He chuckles himself silly and says, “You could be right, there, Matthews. If you think running a base is tough, try an entire country!”
My base!
I rummage through the pack and find a windup radio. With as much strength as I can spare, I wind the handle for a few minutes.
“Wha… what have you got there, Jack?”
My shoulders tense the moment he uses my first name.
“Well it looks like the morphine has kicked in. Should I take a picture of you now and send it to the DEA?”
He laughs and winces in equal measure. “Don’t do that, Jack. This time the joke might actually be on me.”
I smile weakly at his comment but feel a knot of guilt rising from my stomach into my throat. “Sir, I am obligated to report to you that I am the cause of our crash.”
“What? How?”
“DANE sent me a message letting me know that it was going to crash our chopper and destroy my base. I have no idea how this happened, but given that it is my creation, I take full responsibility.”
“Are you choosing to tell me this now, while I am on drugs, so I won’t remember later on?”
I grin at his astuteness. “Maybe…”
He reaches out and starts opening and closing his hand. I take it in mine and immediately feel the firm grip that is returned. He starts to cry.
“Sir, are you alright?”
“All those people, General. They gave their lives to save mine. The moment the chopper started to go down, they threw themselves on top of me like a human airbag.”
I swallow hard and squeeze his hand. “They believed in you, Sir. Like I do.”
He yawns repeatedly and his eyes start to flutter. “Stoned or not, General, you saved my life. I won’t for…”
His last word is lost in a deep snore as his eyelids close. His hand goes limp and he lets go of my fingers. I watch his chest rise and fall. I take his pulse at the same time.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to dance to it, but that’s a pulse. Sleep well, Sir. I
hope to see you alive in the morning.”
I wind up the radio a few more times and start looking for a station. I finally get something weak and full of static but I can hear enough to understand.
“We now leave our latest breaking news for an update on the explosion that happened first.”
My eyes go wide with shock and concern.
“Reports are still flooding in but it appears that the explosion that we reported earlier was nuclear in nature. The government is saying that a small yield nuclear device malfunctioned and exploded underground, exposing a methane gas pocket. The subsequent blast destroyed an entire military base down to its foundations! Reports are still sketchy in the area as the electromagnetic pulse, or EMP as it is called, has knocked out almost all electronics in the area. Casualties have been reported but it is unclear as to how many. Eyewitnesses report that they saw the base being evacuated BEFORE the blast. The Pentagon has vehemently denied the allegation, leading this reporter to wonder about the cover up that seems to be underway. We will keep you up-to-date on this developing tragedy as more details unfold. We have received a brief clip of the explosion from…”
That’s when everything falls silent.
My hands start to tremble and my teeth clench tightly. I begin to see the faces of my soldiers when reality hits me, “ABBY! HAYDEN! NOOOOOOO!” I bellow to the sky.
Only crickets and the President’s loud snores reply.
I fumble through the pack, hoping that a disposable cell phone is inside but no such luck. Without a television I can’t see the extent of the damage.
There is nothing I can do.
I crank the radio with all I have. After a few moments it crackles to life once more.
“…leaders all over the world are reporting that their fleets of air force jets continue to malfunction. We go now to our sister station reporting from Qatar.”
“Thank you, United States. Just like in your country, about ninety minutes ago, all military jets went offline. Reports are still coming in, but at least a hundred pilots from all over the Middle East, including Israel, Jordan, Syria and Egypt had to manually eject from their planes as they simply just turned off mid-flight… hold it a moment United States. We are getting an update from our Japanese correspondents. We’ll take you there now!”
