by L T Anderson
Dion took a long drag on his cigarette and stared at the bar top in front of Ryker. “They’re sending 2,500 trucks each. It takes time to organize a movement that big.”
Ryker leaned forward and pointed at the monitor behind Dion. “They outnumber us ten to one in that little corner of Tremayne, bro. If that’s any indication, we’re more screwed the longer we wait. You need to call those two and find out what they’re waiting for.”
Dion’s ire rose. “No one’s waiting! That kind of operation takes time. I’m not calling Rudie, and I’m not calling Jas. Have you forgotten how friendships work? Friends trust friends. If you’d pull your head out of Krystal’s ass for five minutes, maybe your mind would be clear.”
Ryker sat back. “Low blow, man.”
“You want a beer?” Dion said, reaching under the counter.
“Yeah.”
Winter pushed her Lenco BearCat to ninety miles per hour as light from the sunrise forced its way over the distant rocky horizon. Pink highlights quickly faded to gray as the daylight exposed the usual blanket of winter clouds over the valley. She followed Jimbo’s truck by three car lengths, matching his track like a slot car.
She flipped her headset mic down. “Copy, Jim?”
“Go, Win.”
“You catch that action back at the I-5 junction? Another convoy of semis loaded up with yellow earth movers.”
“Saw that. At least another hundred, wouldn’t you say?”
“At least.”
“Break, break. Jimbo, Winter. Ace here. You copy?”
“Copy,” Winter said.
“Go ahead, Ace,” Jimbo said.
“Go to tac one.”
Krystal strode swiftly through the Hangar and headed toward the door to the manufacturing plant. Her peripheral vision caught movement in the heavy steel cage adjacent to Inspection Pit Three.
The boy in the cage scrambled to his feet. He gripped the vertical bars with both hands and pressed his face against the steel. “Hey.”
Krystal stopped and tipped her chin up. “What’s up with you?”
The boy put on his best sad face. “How long you guys gonna leave me in here?”
Krystal wasn’t moved. “It’s not up to me.” Her hands went to her hips. “How long are you gonna sit around and not provide any useful information?”
The boy shifted his feet, trying to appear nervous. “Is that why I’m here? I thought those Punks from the city brought me in here because I was causing trouble with the other kids.” He smiled and pushed back from the bars, retaining his grip on them. “So whadda you wanna know?”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Krystal said. “What’s with all the heavy construction equipment moving into Tremayne, Little Man?”
“Ohh, you know. Building subdivisions.” The boy pushed forward and backward on the bars. “And by the way, Krystal Peterson, that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Krystal started for the door. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, Little Man.”
He watched her as she walked past the cage and headed toward the back of the room. “We’re gettin’ a new leader.” The boy smiled broadly, exposing his top and bottom teeth.
Krystal stopped. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she said, not turning around.
Little Man swung side to side, still gripping the vertical bars. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know…”
Krystal turned and fast-walked back to the cage. “Listen, you little shit.” She placed her left hand around Little Man’s fingers on his right hand. “Nobody here cares about you except to use you for information.”
The boy’s face crinkled. “Ow, you’re hurting me,” he said.
“Hell I am,” she said. “Unless you want to rot in this cage, you’d best start spilling information.”
The boy smiled again. “I can’t rot, silly. I’m a SOUL kid.”
Krystal stepped up to the cage, her face two inches from the cold steel bars. “We already know that, asshole.” She pulled her 9mm pistol from the holster on her thigh and pushed the barrel through the cage, pointed at the boy’s face. “But it’s just as easy to put an end to this miserable little SOUL in the cage as it is to let you rot.”
He smiled and pressed his head against the business end of the pistol. “Kill me and you get nothing. Smelly, grungy, burned-up Krystal.”
She let go of his hand and backed away from the cage. “I’ve had enough of your shit, you little monster.” She holstered her 9mm and headed toward the manufacturing plant.
Little Man gripped the bars again and eyed Krystal, his face to the bars. “We’re gettin’ a new leader, we’re gettin’ a new leader…”
The boy’s chanting raised the hairs on her neck. She flipped him off over her shoulder and continued toward the plant.
Chapter 48
The Hot Zone
“Copy, Jim?” Winter said. “What say we meet up with Lace’s crew. You know, the two Cats that got locked out of the subdivision.”
“Sounds like a good place to start.”
“Copy, guys? Ace here. Those two aren’t on tac one. We got ’em located on the east side of that subdivision. No activity detected. Go ahead and meet up and find out what you can. Then get back to me.”
“10-4, Ace,” Jimbo said.
Winter followed Jimbo into Tremayne. Traffic in town—both vehicular and pedestrian—felt unnaturally heavy. She closed the distance to his truck, nearly hugging his bumper. The prospect of allowing cross traffic between the BearCats was not something she cared to deal with. She gazed out the driver’s window, instinctively maintaining her distance to Jimbo’s bumper. Pedestrian traffic overflowed off the sidewalks and into the street. Ordinary, middle-class-looking citizens mingled with the apparent homeless population.
“What a menagerie of humanity, Buster,” she said to the big Punk riding shotgun.
“No shit,” he said, staring out the passenger window. “What’s with the regular Bystanders mixing with the homeless people? Somethin’s outta place.”
Winter followed Jimbo’s BearCat down a long alley. Tall brick buildings lined the alleyway, and Winter’s claustrophobia set in. “Definitely gives you a weird feeling.”
Buster glanced across the cab at Winter. “You’re sweatin’, boss. You could back off Jimbo’s bumper a bit. Might help.”
Winter’s eyes glazed. “Just get there, Jim,” she said aloud to herself. “Make it quick.”
Jimbo turned left out of the alley and accelerated, leaving the depressed Old Town behind. Winter rolled her window up and glanced in the rearview mirror on the driver’s door. “Holy shit, I’m glad to be outta that mess.”
Buster smiled. “Thought you were losing it for a minute there, boss.”
Jimbo’s voice cracked in Winter’s headset. “Copy, Win? Two Punk trucks up ahead on the right.”
Four Punks stood in a small circle next to two Lenco BearCats on the right shoulder of the road where the sidewalk ended. All four wore identical black leather jackets, jeans, boots and fingerless gloves. They turned to form a semicircle facing the two second-level commanders as the vehicles pulled to the curb.
Jimbo hopped down the short running board below the driver’s door and sauntered swiftly toward the four. “Who’s in charge?”
The shortest of the four stepped forward and bumped fists with Jimbo. “Me.”
“Right on, Dash.” Jimbo looked at the other three. “Everyone good with that?”
The trio held their fists out. Jimbo pounded down on each. “You all report to Dash.” He yanked a thumb over his shoulder. “Dash will get his orders from me or Winter. Buster and my shotgun are the same as you guys.”
“Who’s your shotgun?” Dash said.
“Stormy,” Jimbo said. “Call her Storm.”
“Got it.”
Jimbo tipped his chin to Dash. “So what’s the scoop here?”
Dash glanced toward the subdivision, about a quarter of
a mile up the street. “We were following Lace into the hot zone, just checking things out, you know. We stopped just outside on the curb. So Nico radios to Lace, and she invites them to join her.” He reached behind his head to tighten his gray bandanna. “Along with Adam and Joey, right? I told the guys here to hold up outside the zone.” He glanced at Winter and Buster. “No particular reason, just my gut.”
“Turns out to be a good move,” Stormy said. She motioned to Buster. “Let’s have a look-see.”
Jimbo crossed his arms, accentuating his chiseled physique. “Just don’t get too close. Fuckin’ Changers are takin’ potshots at random shit.”
Dash’s eyes widened. “Good advice, Jim. But it’s not random. They’re shooting at Punks. Actually laughing about it, too.”
“Fuckers,” Jimbo said. “So what happened?”
“Near as we can tell, the shots are coming from the dumpers. The other machines seem to be used as blockades for the dump trucks. Thing is…” Dash scratched his head through the bandanna. “…we haven’t spotted a weak spot on those mothers.” He squinted at Jimbo. “You know how those big suckers have a cab where the driver sits? We haven’t found it. It appears like the cab that’s usually surrounded by glass—you know, for visibility—is just a big iron box.”
Jimbo glanced behind the Punk. “Whadda you make of that?”
“Well, I think these trucks, at least the dumpers, were specifically made to be war vehicles. You know, battle-ready fighters. I think the construction earth-mover function is secondary.”
“So once again, the Changers designed a machine to specifically wipe out the Punks?” Dash’s shotgun partner said.
“Wipe out the Punks? That’s what the SOUL Chybrids are for,” Winter said. “It sounds to me more like these earth movers are insurance. It’s their might-against-might variable.”
Jimbo stepped back into the street and positioned himself to face everyone present. “Get it straight in your minds, people. The SOUL Chybrids are being used to overwhelm and fool the Bystanders. They’re not for us. They expect the Bystanders to ostracize and banish us. We’ve been present in Bystander territories throughout the continent because the Bystanders welcomed us. All these years, that presence had kept the Changers in check. Now that they decided to break our treaty with them, the Changers are slowly but surely turning the minds of the Bystanders to mush through technology, free stuff and propaganda. When the Bystanders see the Changers’ side of things—through the influence of the SOULs—they kick us out. We become their enemy.” He nodded to Winter. “But she’s right about the earth movers. They’re here to finish off the Punks physically.”
Dash looked at the Punks standing next to him, then back at Jimbo. “So what’s our immediate plan, boss?”
Jimbo paced in front of the group. “I got a message from Ace on the way here. All it said was ‘set up a distraction.’”
“That’s a piece o’ cake,” Winter said. “We got explosives on the Cats.”
“There’s the matter of getting those guys out of there,” Jimbo said. “Say you blow up one of those yellow monsters in there. Then what?” He turned to see Buster and Stormy walking down the small rise from the new subdivision area.
Buster held up a hand as he approached. He shook his head and looked up at Jimbo. “They’re wall to wall. Iron against iron. Or whatever those machines are made of.”
“I say blow a hole in the blockade,” Winter said.
Jimbo nodded to Dash. “How many dumpers?”
Dash’s eyes darted furtively around the group as if looking for the answer. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty out of a hundred or so vehicles.”
Jimbo raised an eyebrow. “If there’s twenty, the math could work as a distraction. We could get them out of there on foot.”
“What are you thinking?” Winter said.
“Okay, look,” Jimbo said. “There’s eight of us here. But that’s not the math I’m talking about.” He pointed at Winter. “Start prepping the explosives. We got ten trucks inside and twenty enemy vehicles taking potshots at our people.”
Winter’s headset crackled. “Copy, Jimbo. Copy, Winter. Ace here.”
Winter motioned to Jimbo. “Ace on tac one.”
“What’s the word?” Jimbo said.
Winter nodded as she listened to Ace’s voice in the headset. “Yeah, that’s too bad, bro. Okay. Yep. 10-4, I’ll let him know.”
Jimbo held up a hand to the crew. “Hold up, everybody.” He looked at Winter. “So?”
“I guess Krystal went and talked to Felix to see if he knows anything about the earth movers.” She shook her head. “He knows about them. But no details.” She glanced around the group. “We’re on our own here.”
Dion and Ryker sat on adjacent barstools at one end of the long countertop, staring at the area map on the flat-screen above the bar.
“Sun’s coming up and Changers are moving in,” Ryker said. “That I-5 activity is killing me.”
“Check out the county highway heading out,” Dion said. “Bet those are empty semis.”
“They are,” Krystal said as she walked back into the Depot.
Ryker swung around. “How do you know?”
“My conversation with Felix,” Krystal said.
“I thought there was nothing to offer there,” Dion said.
Krystal stepped up to the bar and sat next to Ryker. “Not anything I could give to Jimbo and Winter that would help. He did have some information, though.”
“Spill it,” Ryker said.
Krystal picked up a cork coaster off the bar top and twirled it between her fingers. “He said he heard the plan is to bring in one hundred earth movers per day for the foreseeable future. No end date. No max number.”
Ryker opened his mouth. He looked at Dion.
Dion looked Ryker in the eye. “What?”
Krystal continued twirling the coaster. “He said the dump trucks are the weaponized vehicles. But we knew that.”
“How to counter what they’re doing, Krys?” Dion said. “That’s what we need to know.”
Krystal stopped twirling the coaster and slapped it down onto the bar top. She turned to Dion. “Numbers, Dion. That’s the bottom line. We have to overwhelm the dumpers with more firepower than they’re bringing against us. Any of the Changer construction vehicles that aren’t dump trucks are being used as barricades and protection against any offensive action.”
Dion sat back and placed a hand on Ryker’s forearm. “Don’t even say it, bro.”
“I’m not going to ask you to call anyone.” Ryker stared at the map on the wall and shook his head slowly. “By the end of the month, they’ll have more vehicles than we will, even after Rudie and Jas show up.” He turned to Dion. “They’re winning, bro. Slowly, but surely, the Changers are winning.”
“Guys,” Krystal said. “We still have Felix.”
“Seriously, Krys?” Dion said. “He’s working on duplicating his Change reversal chamber, right? That’s good for something, but…” He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face.
“I talked to him about that,” Krystal said. “I talked to him about the earth movers. And I talked to him about defeating the SOUL Chybrids. He’s got a plan for each.”
Ryker took off his bandanna and shook out the wrinkles behind him. “Damn, Krys. From what you said, he wasn’t even involved in the development of the SOUL Chybrids. How can he—”
“He’s Dr. Felix Yaz,” she said. “My money’s on Felix.”
Jimbo surveyed the small group of Punks in front of him. “Okay, here’s the deal. Each of you has two explosive devices with remote detonators installed. I’ve got control of when they go off. Get in behind that far side of the circle.” He looked continuously back and forth between all the players as he spoke. “You will all get exactly two minutes before I start igniting those suckers. So get in and get out. Don’t look back and don’t try to get fancy or make any last-second adjustmen
ts. Is everyone clear?”
He turned around. “Buster, Storm. You two are pivotal, and timing is critical. One minute after these guys take off on foot, hop in the Cats. Not one second sooner. We don’t want to give any indication we’re up to anything—no undue attention in this direction from those bastards.”
The two nodded their acknowledgment.
He addressed the group one last time. “I’m headed to my truck to get eyes on the guys trapped inside. Everyone, radios on. Wait for my signal. I will say, ‘now.’ That’s all you get. Once your units are set, hightail it back to mine and Winter’s Cats. Winter’s going in shallow, so she’ll be the closest to the escape vehicles. Buster and Storm will haul the others away from the area. All of you will exit the area on either mine or Winter’s truck. That’s it.”
Jimbo turned and walked back to Winter’s BearCat. He pulled it away from the curb and backed up with the rear end pointed at the subdivision and the circle of yellow earth movers. He left the keys in the ignition and the motor running. He hopped out, leaving the driver’s door open, and trotted around to the rear of the vehicle. He opened the two rear doors, hurried to his BearCat and opened its rear doors before heading to the cab.
From the driver’s seat of his vehicle, he pushed the power button on a small monitor on the dash. The screen glowed gray as he strapped his radio headset on and flipped the mic down. “Copy, Nico. Copy, Nico. Jimbo.”
“Nico here. Go, Jimbo.”
“Everyone’s on this frequency, so watch what you say. Give me video on all trucks. I’ll switch views as necessary. Time to set it up, buddy.”
“10-4, Jimbo. I’ll give the word when we’re in place.”
“Atta boy.”
Nico had instructed each member of the stranded crew. When he gave the hand signal, the trucks broke out of their circular formation. Each driver pointed their vehicle in a different direction. Each vehicle was set to move forward to a point between two of the dump trucks. There was one BearCat assigned to draw fire from two dumpers.
“I got your video, Nico.”
“10-4. All my Cats, set the smoke.”
