Kaylee held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary, Rick.”
He waved a finger at her. “No, no, no. I insist. It’s still dangerous out there; we don’t know how many stragglers are going to be around, not to mention the huge pile of soldiers we’re going to try and finish off.”
Kaylee grabbed his hand, “I’m telling you that it won’t be necessary because I already have someone protecting me.” Over her shoulder, she turned and said, “You can come out, Malcolm.”
Gasps were heard from various soldiers who twitched nervously and gripped their weapons tightly as the large figure stepped out of the shadows. Kaylee could hear them whispering to each other, and she heard “look at his eyes!” more than once.
In the light once more, the swirling glow of Malcolm’s eyes solidified to the dense, translucent, milky white. “This is Malcolm,” Kaylee announced, “and he’s helped me more than once. I’ll be just fine with him.”
Rick ran his fingers through his hair while he stared at the… whatever it was. “Wh-what… What are you?” He asked.
The eyes narrowed in what was a clear sign of irritation, and a chill passed up Rick’s spine as he hoped that he hadn’t made the big guy upset. The expression mellowed, and Malcolm spoke in his harsh, gravelly tones. “Donn’t knnoww,” eliciting a wince from every person there save Kaylee.
Rick looked back at Kaylee, “Are you sure about this?”
She nodded, seeming to be perfectly at ease, “Yes. Believe me, we can trust him.” She turned and smiled at Malcolm.
Rick slowly shook his head, “All right, if you’re sure about it. Here,” he grabbed one soldier’s small radio and handed it to her. “Hang on to this, and I’ll give you the all-clear signal when everything’s been taken care of.”
“What are you going to do now?” Kaylee asked, stuffing the device into her pocket.
Rick grinned, “Counter-attack. We’re going to take care of every single son-of-a-bitch Citizen left down here.”
It was Kaylee’s turn to slowly shake her head. “All right, good luck, I guess. I’ll see you soon. Be careful.”
Rick nodded and patted her on the shoulder before she turned and left, Malcolm trailing just behind. He watched her until they turned a corner and moved out of sight. He let out a sigh and turned to his men, all of whom were now gathered behind him.
“All right guys,” he started, “Let’s go take care of those hedonistic pricks,” eliciting shouts and yells of enthusiasm and affirmation from his men. They picked up all of their gear, shouldered packs, and started getting ready for the next phase of the battle.
******
Captain Redgick paced nervously around the command center, waiting to hear something, anything, regarding reinforcements or any sort of acknowledgement from the higher-ups in the Citizenship Inquisition and military. His apprehension went on a steady incline since the last communication with Alpha Base. He had held off on the full retreat, waiting for some sign or response from Alpha regarding the reinforcements.
Of course, he still had no inkling that his primary staging area had already been compromised; he was far too preoccupied with whether or not the people up-above would be willing to send reinforcements. He didn’t care any longer if they were angry with him for his failure; he was only concerned about whether or not they would believe him, and further whether or not they would honor his request.
He hoped that they would let him know so that he could, at least, get himself and the rest of his people out safely. His worry increased to expect signs of an attack at any moment. Everyone in Gamma was on edge, unassisted by Redgick’s constant nervous pacing and apprehensive attitude.
He had been walking outside, keeping watch and ordering his men to increase patrols every now and then. His paranoia grew, at that point, to start worrying about sharpshooters, so he had ducked back inside and avoided the windows.
The thought of demolitions and explosives then entered his mind, so he tore the commendation pins from his collar and shoved them in his pocket. He unzipped a portion of his jacket and mussed up his hair. Looking in the mirror, he noted with satisfaction that he looked like a common soldier. Mostly, he thought. He walked back outside and dispersed orders that no one was allowed to salute him. His soldiers nodded, and, in one case, one fellow was stupid enough to salute in response, which earned him a brief but intense tongue-lashing.
He leaned up against the brick wall opposite from the command center, staring in a northerly direction down the empty street. Exhaustion from being awake all day and most of the night crept through his body along with the strung-out feeling gained from adrenaline-high crash. His eyes slid closed and he took a few deep breaths, feeling himself relax ever so slightly. Maybe they won’t-
“Enemy contact! We have enemy-” Redgick’s eyes popped open as the radio crackled out the few words before cutting off into static. He ran back into his command center, heedless of any earlier concerns.
“Report!” He shouted.
“Southside patrol has spotted enemy movements, sir!”
Southside, he thought. Shouldn’t they be attacking from the north? That’s where-
His thought process was cut off by another squawk through the radio. “This is northern patrol reporting contact with the enemy! Shots fired, we are pulling back to base!”
Redgick cursed and slammed his hand on the table. He ran outside and bellowed, “We have enemy troop movement to the north and south, closing in! It is vital that this,” he stabbed a gesture at the intersection just north of the base, “road remain clear and covered for the retreat.” He could hear the light chatter of weapons fire not far distant. He gritted his teeth and gripped his own weapon. He ran back inside of command and barked, “Send one message to Alpha. Tell them we’re pulling out.” The tech nodded and did as he was told. To the rest, Redgick said, “Get as much of this packed up here as you can; we’re getting out of here.”
There was a deafening explosion just outside of the base. All of the remaining glass in the windows of the room shattered with the force and a light wave of heat washed over Redgick. He could hear a few screams of his men outside. Shouldering his weapon he dashed out into the street. A mass of yelling men seemed to be boiling out of buildings less than a block away, deadly weapon fire blazing towards the scattered group of soldiers.
Redgick hit the ground as the hail of ammunition swarmed overhead, several rounds impacting the sandbags he had just used as cover. He grabbed the machine gun from a man killed by the explosion and propped it up on the edge. He popped up and squeezed of a few bursts into the crowd of advancing soldiers; satisfaction filled him as he saw a few of them fall to his and his other men’s fire. He screamed and fired more bursts into the oncoming soldiers with the heavy caliber weapon; several fell. A light spray of his own blood spattered his face as a bullet grazed the back of his hand on the weapon. He yelped in pain and dropped back, breathing hard. He looked up at one of his men, firing out of cover. Blood burst from the man’s neck as he caught a round in the throat.
Redgick jumped to his feet and started running. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Everyone pull back! Retreat! Head towards Alpha!” He ran in the center of ragged groups. This kept him, for the most part from direct harm as he ran, occasionally turning around to fire a few rounds backwards.
As he did this, he noticed the radio operators finally coming out of the abandoned base with packs and armfuls of equipment, running right into the advancing soldiers. Redgick gasped when one foe whipped out a long combat knife and drove it into an operator’s chest. The mortally wounded man put on a surprised and terrified expression, dropping his armful of equipment and staring, open-mouthed, at the wound before crumpling to the ground. Redgick fired his weapon into the swarm of soldiers, but could hear screams of his remaining men as other enemy soldiers poured into to the remains of the base.
His group of soldiers, entirely scattered and nearly hopeless with individuals getting cut down intermittently, ran down
the street towards the east in a rabble. Redgick fled with them, icy fear gripping his heart as he continually heard bullets whiz overhead or strike one of his men. He tried to get a rough estimation of how many men were with him, but there was too much panic and too little ability to concentrate. He continued running, hopelessness seeping into his weary, defeated body.
******
Stupid cowards. Decadent, arrogant fools! More, similar insults blazed through Captain Redgick’s thoughts as they drew close, within several blocks, of Alpha base. His feelings of defeat and despair turned to anger; there hadn’t been the slightest sign or hint of any manner of Citizen reinforcements, assistance of any kind, or even an acknowledgement of his plight. His strained mind naturally assumed they were too moronic or overconfident to bother sending assistance.
Several blocks earlier, it had looked as though their pursuers had fallen behind, so, reining his command of the exhausted troops, he called a brief halt. They, of course, kept careful watch behind them for any pursuit, but luckily it appeared as though the chase had ceased, at least for the time being. Redgick used the respite to calm the panic and get a rough count of his remaining soldiers.
He was once more dismayed to discover he had seventy-five men left. Out of the four hundred he had brought down, only seventy-five, not counting those in Alpha, were not missing, wounded, or dead. He held slim hope that a few stragglers would catch up, but his mind kept reaching back, freezing on the moment not long ago where the long knife slid into his technician’s chest so easily. He didn’t remember the man’s name, but his face would be burned into his memory forever. It was the look of surprise, Redgick thought, that cold moment of stunned shock. He shuddered.
Considering that kind of treatment, Redgick had little optimism for other survivors making their way back. This battle was lost. Still, if they could get more troops and reinforce Alpha Base, they’d have a decent chance of hanging on to their presence in down below. From there, only time would be needed to exhaust the number of the armed terrorists, and all of the trouble would be finished.
Relief spread through Redgick’s body as his group of survivors came to the corner of the Escape complex. They sidled along the large wall, still keeping any eye behind them. Redgick moved in front, and lead his group of men down the street.
The square was as it was when they arrived: empty and quiet. He was shocked to discover no sentries, no machine guns set up, no defenses of any kind. Unthinking, he stormed into the building, shouting, “There had better be a damn good explanation for…” he trailed off, seeing the room was entirely empty. He noted a few tables and radio equipment set up, somewhat similar to Gamma base, but no one was there.
Several of his people poured in the building behind him, also shocked to see the base devoid of any support troops. The wide freight elevator, which connected all the way to the surface, in the back behind the marble reception counters, lay open and empty. Seeing his exit was deeply satisfying for Redgick, but the feeling was marred by unease.
By this time all but a handful of his people were inside, and edginess crept into Redgick once more. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Did they have to retreat? Did they already pull out? He didn’t know. His men, with general confusion, looked around the place for some indication to the whereabouts of the few dozen people that had set up Alpha Base. Apprehension continued to mount, and silence permeated the dark, shadowy room.
Then he saw it. Peering around, Redgick noticed a strange shape in the shadows attached to the wall, behind the counter to the left of the elevator and up about ten feet. It was short and rectangular, with rounded corners. To the casual viewer, it almost looked like a light fixture. Something about it nagged him, so he took a closer look. As he moved towards it, he frowned as he saw the same fixture on the other side, and squinting he could see a couple more on the left and right walls. Maybe it is a light fixture…he thought.
He crossed around behind the luxurious marble-topped reception desk, and shined his weak flashlight up at the shape. It had a few words that Redgick squinted to read. A tiny slit of light glinted next to the device. It looked like a wire. He felt suddenly lightheaded, an inkling regarding the object striking him. He passed his light on the device again, seeing the marred words on the drab green device he remembered now as, “Front Toward Enemy.”
Panic shot instantly through every part of his body. He started running towards the exit screaming, “Mines! Mines! Everybody get out!”
Chapter 25: Cleaning Up
It was the next afternoon. Almost every soldier involved in the combat had dispersed, once everything had finished, and found a place to sleep until late morning. A few had remained on watch, just to make sure that no stragglers made caused any trouble. As fortune would have it, they either eliminated every one of them, or the few remaining enemy soldiers had also decided to bunk down. Either way, it was a quiet night, and most of the men slept as though they hadn’t for months. Rick snoozed with content, a grim smile on his face all night long.
They were now working on clean-up. After the detonation, it was easy enough to finish off the remaining, disoriented soldiers, not that there were many left that weren’t inches from death already. No one really wanted to go inside of the mess left behind. Even a few of the seemingly unflappable Russian soldiers came running out of Purgatory pale or various shades of green, trying in vain to not vomit. It didn’t surprise Rick; he felt a little ill when he first saw it.
The Claymore mines propelled seven hundred small, round steel balls each at a speed of near four thousand feet per second. Eight of these were daisy-chained together and placed on the walls of Purgatory. When they went off, they filled the chamber room with lethal shrapnel. No one inside the crisscrossing kill zone escaped without lethal wounds, and any severely maimed survivors “lucky” enough to avoid being completely shredded by the blast were put out of their considerable misery.
Rudimentary contact had been continued throughout this time with the authority up above to simulate that all was well, that the campaign was running smoothly. Rick didn’t expect the ruse to last forever, but at least it would buy them some time.
Sergei and Isaac went with Victor, who they and most others still thought to be the infamous Elijah, on a search for the locations of the remaining people in Old Haven. They wanted to use the news of their alliance and military success to recruit everyone else to the cause. Victor had already mentioned the next goal of taking the fight to the surface, and both Sergei and Isaac agreed to it.
Everyone else, with the exception of the weary prisoners and a few people to supervise their campaign of misinformation, was stuck taking shifts in cleanup detail. There were numerous hundreds of bodies in various locations to deal with, as well as a horrid mess of gore in Purgatory. They took volunteers for that location because not everyone could stomach it. Although they tended to group together by faction, there was a shaky camaraderie already cultivating among the former enemies, and individuals scattered around to collect and bury the dead. Everyone who lived in down below understood the need to clean up in such a fashion. Otherwise, they’d invite more filth and decay and, with it, sickness and disease.
Rick was one of the few who stayed at Purgatory. When asked why he didn’t just delegate it down, he replied, “I made the mess. I should help clean it up.” Most people thought he was crazy.
The process, at least at Purgatory, was slow in going because of the presence of a great deal of blood and scattered bits of human tissue. They worked on cleaning everything as well as they could, but the floors, walls, and furniture would feature reddish-brown stains forever.
Some people went out to the open park area behind Purgatory to dig a large hole to put the bodies and parts in. It was long, bloody labor, but most of them didn’t seem to mind. For once, the people in down below didn’t feel hunted. Not by opposing factions, not by the Citizens. They knew it wouldn’t last, so they enjoyed it while they could, even if the alternative was dealing with corpses.
******
Nothing! Nothing at all, Jeffrey thought, acidity and unrest boiling in his stomach. Apprehension exacerbated his already weak stomach, and he continued to pace around the barracks.
Fruitless hours of sweeping the now practically shining steps in front of the Institute had left him frustrated. He would have remained there entirely, except for one particular receptionist heading to begin work had given him a rather suspicious look. He felt it safer to refrain from using that spot again for a while.
The rumor mill was utterly devoid of any information about any sort of retaliatory strike, but Jeffrey knew it happened. He had seen the hundreds of soldiers blaze by the day before, disappearing into some passageway that went to the freight elevator. They went down, and, as far as he knew, they hadn’t returned. God willing, he thought, they won’t.
Other servants stared off into space, ignoring his jittery back and forth during the hours of the morning. Behaviors among his coworkers varied greatly; pacing was not terribly unusual. Neither was murmuring, rocking back and forth, or hours of blank staring.
Jeffrey remained worried. They can handle it, he thought for the hundredth time. They’ll be okay…
******
It was mid-afternoon and Gregory Michaels snorted and awoke with a start, still sitting in his plush leather chair. He had apparently fallen asleep without noticing. Comfortable though the chair was for sitting, his neck, slumped for several hours in an awkward position, felt like it was filled with broken glass as he tenderly moved it. He stretched out his limbs, wincing as his cramped, tense muscles complained while the blood slowly seeped into his limbs. He stood up and stretched further, a motion of agonizing ecstasy.
His head still swam within the fog of sleep, but it started to disperse as he shuffled around his office, working out the cramped muscles. The memory of the previous night and his solution to the riddle and subsequent rush to the office to see the next entry gradually plodded back through his mind. He remembered his angry outburst.
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