The armory in Kingston yielded a gold mine of ordnance, fuel, vehicles, and small arms while a Marine tactical air support wing based north of Kingston held spare parts for the helicopters and aviation fuel.
Police stations offered treasure troves of ammunition, ballistic armor, and weapons. Gun shops, hardware stores, and sporting goods outlets yielded additional bounty.
Families re-occupied neighborhoods while barter centers and supply depots opened in vacant shopping centers. A farmers market of sorts sprung to life on Public Square.
Wilkes-Barre became, in humble ways, a city again. A human city patrolled by Grenadiers sniffing out danger.
Trevor painted the commandeered Redcoat shuttles he nicknamed ‘Eagles’ white and then trained people to fly them, starting with three experienced pilots from Prescott’s group. Nina wanted to learn but Trevor kept her focused on training new recruits and conducting patrols with the promise that her chance would come.
Meanwhile, Omar improved the Eagle air ships by installing improved radar and communications gear.
Furthermore, technicians worked long hours to bring an old coal-fired electricity plant on line intermittently to power Wilkes-Barre and its suburbs. The legacy of mining in the valley had left behind massive anthracite piles, more than enough to keep the plant running for months.
All the while refugees poured in.
The Poconos—to the east and southeast of Wilkes-Barre—proved fertile ground for finding intact families. In that rural region, it had been possible to hunt enough game to survive while a plethora of streams provided clean drinking water as well as fish.
On May 15, Lori Brewer announced that five hundred people had registered as part of the greater "estate". Evan Godfrey might have known each of them by name.
While humanity’s comeback continued for the survivors, the comeback of humanity in both Trevor and Nina blossomed as well.
He found the other bookend to his life. She could finish his sentences and he could do the same for her. They changed from new love to lovers to a couple. One day Trevor paid her what she knew to be the ultimate compliment: not only did he love her, but he liked her.
He liked playing racquetball with her. He enjoyed introducing her to classic movies such as Twelve Angry Men and Forbidden Planet. She taught him how to horseback ride and improved his marksmanship.
Some nights he needed to be something other than a leader. Just as had happened after the destruction of the gateway, Nina could comfort him during his rare times of indecision or guilt or sadness, or even when nightmares of his torture at the The Order invaded his dreams.
Nina needed to drop the front of the tough soldier once in a while. Sometimes she wanted to be a little Princess; sometimes she wanted to fold into his arms and forget about fighting and killing for a while.
He could do that. He was the only person who ever could. Without him, she feared she would become the quiet, icy introvert who could only find purpose in combat.
The first half of the New Year served as the calm eye of the hurricane.
June marked the one-year anniversary since the end of the world. June also brought war and misery.
The powers of Armageddon had noticed them.
The legions were coming.
Trevor had survived. He had begun to fight. Now came time to sacrifice.
29. Gathering Thunderheads
"Easy does it," Trevor cautioned.
"This is…this is…," Nina searched for words. "I mean, it feels like I’m flying. Like it’s me moving through the air."
She sat in the pilot’s chair wearing oversized navigation goggles. Through them, Nina saw the landscape passing below as if her eyes watched from the front of the captured shuttle.
Dante’s voice over the radio cut the lesson short.
"Eagle One, you copy? This is Home Plate."
Trevor responded, "We read you. What’s happening?"
"We need you to do an aerial recon."
"Home Plate, that’s a negative, we’re on a training mission. Dunston and Bragg are up in Two and Three doing patrols. Call them."
Dante’s voice wavered: "Both Two and Three are doing recons in other areas."
"Where?"
"Eagle Two is on its way over the mountains and east to Blakeslee. Dunston is to the south below Hazleton."
Trevor sighed and said, "Okay, where do you need us?"
"Could you head north above Scranton to the Mid-Valley area?"
Trevor realized Dante sought reconnaissance in three different directions.
"Home Plate, what’s going on?"
"Um, Eagle One, I need a follow-up on reports we got from ground scouts."
Trevor asked, "What are we looking for?"
Silence.
"Dante, for Christ’s sake what did the scouts tell you?"
"Trevor, we have armies come at us. Three of them."
---
At twelve noon on June 1, Eagle One with Trevor Stone at the controls soared over the northern suburbs of Scranton. Below them, the ground moved like a slowly rolling tide: Red Hand tribesmen swarming south like locusts.
Thousands of them.
---
They landed on one of the newly built pads by the marina on the far side of the lake. Nina and Trevor transferred to a Humvee and drove for the mansion.
"Three armies at once? I don't buy that as a coincidence. There must have been two thousand of those Red Hands. Probably take—hey, you awake over there?"
Nina’s head rested against the side window with her eyes shut.
Trevor skidded to a stop along the shoulder of the road.
"Nina! Hey, Nina!"
She bolted upright. "What? What’s wrong?"
Trevor’s heart pounded as he told her, "You were out."
"Oh. Guess I fell asleep."
She refused to face him; her eyes focused ahead.
He asked, "What is it? Are you feeling okay?"
She redirected, "C’mon, get going. We have to find out what’s going on."
"Jesus Christ, Nina, has this happened before? Are you fainting?"
"Look, no big deal. I’m just not sleeping well."
"Bull shit. I sleep next to you. How many times has this happened?"
"Just get us--"
"How many times, damn it!"
She stared at her hands saying, "Three or four times, in the last two weeks…I think."
"Have you talked to Johnny about this?"
"Listen, maybe I’m not eating right. Just a little light-headedness. We can talk about it later. I’m just saying we’ve got more important stuff now."
Trevor glared at her and said, "We’re going to get you checked out."
"Yeah, sure, whatever, but let’s get moving."
---
Trevor, his council, the inner circle of military minds, and the pilots returning from reconnaissance missions packed into the Command Center.
Dunston, a slender black man from Prescott’s group with a background in flying med-evac Blackhawks for the Army, relayed what he had seen before fleeing anti-air fire. Trevor listened while his eyes studied the map spread over the desktop.
"They’re humanoid and marching in loose formations. They had some carts or something pulled by animals. Like horse and wagon stuff, except they sure weren’t horses."
Trevor asked, "Nothing motorized?"
"Couldn’t tell for sure. I didn’t see any air support, either. I did see something that looked like a catapult and that made me think of them as Vikings, but that's really not right." The pilot chuckled and explained, "I guess it's getting harder and harder to come up with new names for everything we run in to."
"How many?" Brewer asked.
"At least a couple hundred, but they did a good job of staying under cover. I mean, until they popped out and started hitting me with something."
Trevor called, "Omar, get over to check out what hit Dunston’s Eagle." Trevor then spoke to the pilot again: "What way are they coming?"
>
Dunston leaned over the map and traced a line along Interstate 81.
"Heading north in the woods alongside the highway."
Shep asked Trevor, "And the Red Hands?"
"They’re coming south down Route 11."
Prescott said, "Maybe these Red Hand guys will fight it out with the Viking things."
Trevor asked the other recon pilot, "Bragg, what did you see?"
Bragg, another addition from Prescott’s group with experience flying Apaches and now alien air ships, stepped forward. He relayed his information in a firm, no-nonsense voice that matched his firm, no-nonsense appearance.
"Sir, some nasty shit coming our way from the east, Sir."
"Let’s hear it, soldier."
"Never saw anything like them, Sir. Some sort of machines. I don’t know if there’s anything inside of em’ or if they’re just…well, I think they’re robots, Sir."
The information nearly sounded funny, particularly coming from a man who had managed to keep his army crew cut perfectly sculpted even after a year on the run.
"Car-sized, Sir. Like robotic cockroaches or something. Six legs each. Got some sort of machine guns on them. Wouldn’t want to be standing toe to toe with them, Sir."
Brewer asked, "Any artillery? Heavy weapons? Air cover?"
"No, Sir. I think each of these things packs a good wallop on its own. And the
Grenadiers, well, they can’t take a bite out these things. Sorry, Sir."
Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose.
Stonewall asked, "Did you ascertain their number?"
"I think seventy-five to one hundred, Sir. They were in the open pretty good but scattered across a wide front. They’re heading right along Route 115. Coming this way, slow but sure."
Trevor traced his fingers over the map.
Brewer said, "These Viking things and the robots are on a path that’ll bring them together outside the Wyoming Valley Mall where 81 and 115 intersect by the expressway. The Red Hands are coming down along the river."
Dante hoped, "Maybe they’ll run into each other and start fighting."
Trevor sighed but it was Nina who said what was on his mind: "Look, they’re not going to fight each other. They’re going to meet up and march right out here; one big happy army."
Evan Godfrey interrupted, "You don’t know that! They might just pass us by."
Once again, Nina spoke for Trevor: "They’re coming for us. This isn’t a coincidence."
Evan moved from the crowd into the limelight of the conversation.
"Yeah, you’d just love that. Another reason to have another war. Can’t we go negotiate with them? We’re talking about intelligent races."
Trevor replied, "No."
Nina said, "These things meet up—what?--two days from now then they head out here."
Shep voiced what they all realized: "Reckon they would just overwhelm us."
"Dante," Trevor commanded, "get your scouts out. I need updates on movement and headings and everything. Get them going. Now."
"Yeah man, no problem."
Stonewall said, "May I make a suggestion? Some say the battle of Gettysburg was won on the first day."
Jon Brewer’s knowledge of history forced him to correct, "That was a three day fight."
Stonewall conceded, "Yes, but on the first day the confederate army's fate was sealed."
Brewer followed Stonewall's thinking: "The Union army occupied the high ground outside of town. The confederates spent the next two days attacking those positions."
"Indeed," Stonewall agreed. "History may have recorded a different outcome if General Lee had secured the high ground for the Army of Northern Virginia that day."
First Trevor, then Brewer, then Shep leaned closer to the map.
Trevor said, "We sure as hell can’t let those armies come together."
Brewer echoed, "Wow, yeah. That’d be bad."
"Get those scouts out and the Eagles flying. We need info. Prescott, get me an up to date listing of armaments and munitions. Garrett, put together your best skirmishers."
Stonewall bowed.
"People, I think things are going to get interesting over the next forty-eight hours; if we have that long. I don’t want those armies converging. I’m going airborne to check some things out and I’m mustering every K9 I can find."
As the meeting dispersed, Evan said to Trevor, "Let me try negotiating."
"They’re coming for us. I’d love to send you to negotiate but you’d never come back."
"Okay then, what is it you want me to do?"
"What do you want to do?"
Evan replied, "I guess I’m going to fight."
Trevor’s wide eyes and gape revealed his surprise.
Evan muttered, "You think because I don’t agree with you I’m a coward? You don’t know me. Just because I don’t like the idea of fighting for the rest of my life doesn’t mean I won’t stand up when I need to."
"Okay then. We’ll get you assigned somewhere. In the meantime, round up any transportation, fuel supplies and anything else we might need. Think creative. Who knows what this is going to take."
Evan Godfrey walked away.
Nina joined Trevor.
"You two making friends?"
"No. Sometimes you pigeonhole someone then you learn that was a mistake. Mark it down; Evan’s not afraid to put it on the line."
"Good. I’m just saying everyone is going to have to fight."
"Yeah," Trevor watched Evan leave the room. "Sooner or later everyone fights for what they believe in."
---
Trevor told Nina to get an hour’s rest and something to eat while he planned to take an Eagle to analyze the topography to the east and south.
He walked out of the mansion’s front doors with Tyr by his side and stopped.
The white wolf paced frantically just beyond the northern fence.
Trevor, his eyes on the Old Man’s familiar, had one more order to give before he could answer the call from his benefactor. He told Tyr, "Complete assembly. As soon as possible."
As the dog bolted off in one direction, Trevor went around the fence on the perimeter road to follow the wolf as it hurried off into the woods.
The forest turned the day dark. New leaves waved in a brisk spring wind. The old, dried leaves from last fall covered the ground in dried rot.
The Old Man paced along the rim of a flickering fire and sneered, "’Bout damned time."
"I got here as fast as I could."
Trevor tried to sound annoyed at the interruption, but he lost any edge as he saw the expression in the Old Man's eyes: as he saw the fear—out right fear—there.
The Old Man’s next words changed Trevor Stone’s world forever.
"You can’t be with her." The man’s wrinkled, crooked hand trembled as he waved it toward Stone. "I didn’t see this thing comin’ but this here is the way it is. Had I known earlier this would of been easier."
Trevor cocked his head. "Huh? What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with the three armies?"
The Old Man repeated, "You can’t be with her."
Trevor came to understand the Old Man’s meaning.
"What? Are you talking about Nina? Who I’m with is none of your business."
The Old Man pumped a shaky fist that appeared more afraid than angry.
"I told you, you walk a path. You can either do what you’re supposed to be doin’ or you fail and things end."
"Take your riddles somewhere else; I don’t have time for this shit. I have three god damn armies of nasties coming at us."
"And that don’t mean diddly! You think I don’t know what’s comin’ down the pike? But that don’t mean nothin’ if you don’t listen to me now!"
Trevor shot, "I’m doing everything you told me to do. I’ve fought the fight. I’ve been through a living hell. I’ve been beaten and tortured and felt pain like no man should ever feel. I have nightmares that would give Freddy Krueger the creeps. So
metimes I can still feel those friggin’ bugs crawling in my skin. So I find one little ounce of happiness in this world and you tell me no? Well screw you and all your shit. If you don’t like me with Nina then go find someone else for the job."
Trevor started to walk off.
"Somethin’ bad gunna happen to her."
Trevor turned with the devil in his face.
"I don’t know what you are, but I will spend the rest of my life and all my time in Hell getting my vengeance if you hurt her."
The Old Man placed a hand on his forehead and spoke with a tone of frustration and, perhaps, a touch of pity.
"Oh Trevor, you just ain’t hearin’ me cause you in love. I told you. You walk a path. She ain’t on that path, Trevor. I can see where it goes. She ain’t with you. You don’t have the brainpower to understand what this be all about. You don’t have the mental ca-pacity."
"What do you have against Nina?"
The Old Man grimaced.
"Damn it! You fool! I didn’t see her comin’. I didn’t know you two were makin’ hay and talking about riding off into the sunset together. Break it off, Trevor. Stop it now whilst there’s still time. If you love her, then you’ll send her packin’ and then maybe she’ll be just fine. But you go tryin' to take her with you arm and arm like a couple honeymooners then sometin’ gunna stop you. I don’t know what. Sometin’."
Trevor pointed at him.
"Now you listen to me. I’ve done everything you asked. I survived, I fought, I…"
He caught himself.
"That’s right," the Old Man grinned in a mean way. "I warned you. Thought it’d be as simple as taking a shot for your buddy, didn’t you? Or maybe givin’ up cable TV was your big sacrifice. Truth is, right now you’d rather die than give her up."
Again, a hint of compassion slipped into the man’s tone. A hint.
"This ain’t ‘bout you. Never was. You just a link in a chain. You can’t do what you got to do with her ‘round. She’s a good fighter, though. Probably serve you well killin’ and whatnot."
Trevor walked away.
"You got no choice. End it before sometin’ happens that you’ll blame yourself for!"
Beyond Armageddon: Book 01 - Disintegration Page 38
