Eldritch shuddered as if the temperature had suddenly dropped in his office. Was it possible? But how? There was no way! All these thoughts ricocheted through Eldritch’s mind as another shudder passed through his body. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a ghost stood behind him, its cold hands slowly wrapping around his neck.
“How could he?” Eldritch wondered. “He’s dead. There’s no way.” But Eldritch was a logical man and when all other options were eliminated, what remained, no matter how unlikely, was the answer.
Eldritch’s fingers began to fly across his keyboard. They had been able to trace the ERC SOS signal back to the satellite that transmitted it, albeit falsely, into that field of cows. From there, the signal was lost in a mishmash of encryption and rerouting through countless other sources. But one thing still remained that presented Eldritch with a splinter of hope. The transmission had been sent from a source on the ground and that source could possibly be triangulated. A ground-based signal would most likely be small, lacking any major broadcasting power, so it would need to employ the nearest tower and satellite to send its signal successfully.
Punching a few more keys, Eldritch cued a screen showing the paths of multiple ERC satellites. He wound the timeframe back to the day the emergency signal began transmitting. The area that the signal had come from only had two available satellites nearby. A few more keystrokes brought up the activity logs for both satellites. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
“Damn it,” ‘Eldritch growled. “Where are you?” His eyes narrowed as he studied the numbers and activities. Nothing but ERC approved transmissions. Could the signal be hidden in one of these? That was likely, but that also meant that Eldritch could spend a lifetime sorting through the hundreds of thousands of transmissions that were sent in a single day and still be no closer to finding the source. There was only one person Eldritch would credit with being this devious, this intelligent – his father.
A loud ping from the computer caused Eldritch to look up from where he had buried his head in his hands. The satellite activity log showed something strange. A third satellite had deviated from its orbit and was entering the space of the two satellites Eldritch was currently studying. However, this one was very different from the other two. Those two were little more than communications satellites, capable of tracking and sending communications, useful for spying and taking intel pictures. That was not the use of the third satellite, a satellite that had been kept private, even from some of the most high-ranking politicians. But Eldritch knew this satellite well, remembered his father showing him the plans for it and excitedly describing how it would bring an end to all wars. The movement of this satellite left no doubt in Eldritch’s mind. His father was alive.
The ERC military satellite moved into position over a large clearing and began powering up. The gas particles contained within the glass cylinders would be agitated, forced to bounce off one another faster and faster, releasing energy with each collision. This energy would soon reach critical mass resulting in the release of a massive beam of light and a searing explosion. Eldritch could have tried to override the satellite. There was undoubtedly a failsafe programmed into it, but curiosity prevented him. Why was this person, who most likely was his long dead father, powering up one of the most deadly weapons in the ERC’s arsenal and discharging it into the middle of nowhere?
As if in answer to Eldritch’s question, his phone beeped loudly and began to vibrate. The emergency signal was once again transmitting and this time the coordinates were almost identical to those of the military satellite. Eldritch opened his phone, silenced the SOS transmission and called Ortiz.
“Captain!” Eldritch snapped. “Get your men to this location immediately. I am sending you the coordinates now.”
“Yes, sir,” Ortiz answered. “Coordinates were received. One thing though, Mr. Eldritch, sir?”
“What? What is it?” Eldritch demanded. “Time is off the essence, Ortiz!”
“Of course,” Ortiz responded, “but Mr. Eldritch, these coordinates are almost in the exact location of reports we just received regarding a massive explosion. Could they be connected?”
“Damn it, Ortiz!” Eldritch shouted. “Congratulations! You are a freaking genius! Of course, they must be connected. Now get in your little car and go figure out what the hell is happening!”
“Yes, sir,” Ortiz said. “Immediately, sir.”
“One more thing, Ortiz,” Eldritch said slowly, “and this is strictly between the two of us.”
“Yes sir,” Ortiz agreed.
Eldritch took a deep breath and exhaled. The beeping of his Em-Pak could be heard in the background. “If by chance you see any of my family members, I want them brought back alive.”
“Of course, Mr. Eldritch,” Ortiz answered, as if there was really no reason for clarification. Why wouldn’t Assemblyman Eldritch want his family brought back alive? Wasn’t that why Ortiz was still chipping cow crap off his boots?
“Ortiz!” Eldritch shouted. “I mean any - ANY of my family members! Even dead ones!”
“Dead ones?” Ortiz asked, his own Em-Pak beeping now. Was Assemblyman Eldritch beginning to crack under the weight of his new position? He wouldn’t have been the first politician to lose it because of the pressure. “Sir, how can I bring back the dead ones alive? I’m sorry, Mr. Eldritch, but I’m not understanding these orders.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Ortiz,” Eldritch seethed. “I have reason to believe that my father may be involved in this current situation. To what degree and in what manner I know not, but if he is there, I want him brought in alive and away from the cameras. Everything and everyone else is fair game, Captain. We need this to look good, Ortiz, not like last time. Because God help me, Ortiz, if I so much as see a cow this time, they’re not going to be the only ones that need to worry about being ground up.”
“Understood, sir,” Ortiz answered, as he looked down at his boots, still caked and filthy and then added, “Perfectly, Mr. Eldritch, sir.”
-46-
A red spot formed miles above the circle of buses, barely noticeable among the smattering of stars in the night sky. Cora was terrified to see that Samuel and Xander had been right - the Reds were forcing Remmy to fight in some sort of sick arena. But she remained with Samuel on a wooded rise and waited.
It was hard for Cora to keep quite as a large Red chased after Remmy swinging an axe and gnashing his wicked looking teeth. Remmy was doing a good job avoiding the attacks, but had yet to fight back. He was going to need to do something to buy some time. He needed to last until Samuel’s red dot did whatever it was supposed to do.
“Not much of a fighter,” Xander shrugged as he watched the arena through a pair of binoculars. “Lover boy is going to need to find some nerve if he’s going to last much longer.”
“Shut up, Xander!” Cora spat through her teeth.
The large Red swung his axe, getting it stuck in the rusted roof of an old junker. The Red dropped the axe and lunged forward, but this time Remmy dropped low, smashing his axe into the Red’s knee. Cora smiled as the Red’s scream filled the arena. Remmy turned to yell something at the other Reds. Cora couldn’t hear, but she could see the other Reds getting anxious.
“Uh oh,” Xander mumbled as he watched the Red launch himself towards Remmy on his one good leg. “It’s not over yet. Lover boy should have finished the job when that Red was out of commission.”
“What?” Cora cried. She watched as Remmy swung the axe once more, this time aiming for the Red’s face. The spray of blood and teeth was visible even from where Cora sat. Remmy’s face was red and twisted with rage and Cora momentarily worried that she had lost him – that everything had been for nothing. Remmy’s face relaxed, returning to its regular color. He was back, had never been gone. There was still time.
“Samuel,” Cora pleaded, “how much longer do we have to wait? Remmy won’t last much longer.” Her grandfather lay on his back staring up at the night sky, as if watchin
g the stars were his only care in the world.
“Right there,” Samuel pointed at the red spot. “As soon as Remmy is clear, I’ll do my part. Watch that until it gets a bit bigger, but then avert your eyes. You’re going to need to be able to see to save Remmy.”
“Oh boy, Cora,” Xander called still watching the arena, “you’re going to want to see this.”
Cora rolled away from Samuel and pressed the binoculars to her eyes. The Reds were dropping over the sides of the buses and heading towards Remmy. Countless pairs of hands closed around Remmy and pulled him out of the arena.
“But he won!” Cora protested.
“I don’t think they care,” Xander answered.
“Cora. Xander,” Samuel called. “You might want to cover your eyes.” They turned to see Samuel prone on the ground, his eyes shielded behind his folded arms.
The sky lightened, as if the sun were rising early. Cora covered her eyes and hoped that Remmy could survive whatever was about to happen.
A concussive BOOM split the night. Wave after wave of intense heat rolled through the clearing surrounding the Red camp. Cora felt her back getting hot, imagining that her clothes and hair might catch fire. How could Remmy survive this?
“Let’s go!” Samuel shouted. “Remember how to use your wrist guns?”
“Aim and flick?” Xander mocked as he looked at the device. He would never admit that they slightly impressed him.
“Come on,” Cora called. She was already over the rise and heading towards the Red camp.
“It looks like they took Remmy to that building,” Samuel shouted as he checked his wrist screen and pointed at a run-down shack.
Cora immediately corrected her path and headed towards the building. A Red rushed towards her from the left side. The Red’s eyes were wild and shot with blood. Half of her hair had had been singed off by Samuel’s attack and still smoldered on the side of her head. The blade raised over her head, though slightly blackened by the fire, still posed a very real threat. Cora froze, the insanity of the Red rooting her feet to the ground.
Xander didn’t hesitate. A loud poof burst beside Cora’s head. Seconds later, countless tiny red wounds blossomed on the Red’s face. Both the blade and Red fell to the ground.
“Um…thank you,” Cora said, the words almost sounding like a question.
Xander laughed dryly as he reloaded his wrist gun. “Save your sisterly gushing,” Xander grinned sarcastically. “I just saw a chance to kill a Red and wanted to do it before you could. That’s one for me, zero for you.”
Cora wanted to believe that some part of Xander had wanted to protect her, wanted to keep her safe because she was his sister. Emotions swirled in Cora’s heart, a mix of both ends of the spectrum, creating a feeling of unease that she did her best to push down. The polarized feelings she felt towards her brother could be dealt with after Remmy was safe. The ramshackle little shed was right up ahead. Remmy was so close to safety, so close to Cora.
“Three to zero!” Xander shouted as he took down another Red. He had found an axe somewhere and was now using it more than his wrist gun. He appeared to enjoy a more hands on approach. “Four!” Xander grunted bringing the axe down with a sickening thud, squish.
Three Reds rushed Cora from the sides of the shed.
“I’ve got the two on the left!” Samuel shouted and rushed forward. Cora saw her grandfather fire a shot that dropped one Red, but the second still came forward, tackling Samuel.
“Samuel!” Cora yelled. The third Red was within arm’s reach of her. Cora leapt backwards and tilted her hand upward, releasing the compressed air and tightly packed steel buckshot. The Red’s head was almost sheared in half from being shot at such close range. Cora was splattered with a slick of the Red’s blood and bits of gore. She wanted to puke, but Samuel, her grandfather, needed her.
“Five to one!” Xander yelled as he rushed past Cora towards Samuel. “You’re not stealing this one!”
“Damn it, Xander, no one is keeping track! Help Samuel!” Cora shouted and raced after her brother. He had been distracted by an easier target and left Samuel to the mercy of the Red. All questions regarding Xander’s motivation were answered. With no emotions to color his actions, this was little more than a game to Xander.
“Six to one! You’d better step it up, Cora!” Xander taunted as he wrenched his axe free from the shoulder of a now dead Red.
Samuel wrestled with the Red, showing the strength of a man twenty years younger, but the Red was still stronger.
“Go, Cora!” Samuel said as he fought the Red. “Get Remmy while there’s still confusion!”
Cora hesitated.
“GO!” Samuel demanded. The Red’s teeth snapped closed just inches from his face.
“Seven!” Xander bellowed and pressed the barrel of his wrist gun against the side of the Red’s head. The Red’s eyes showed a moment of confusion, a touch of fear having felt the cold metal of the gun.
The Red’s head disappeared in a large cloud of red. Ragged, wet bits rained down around Xander and Samuel. Cora pushed the disturbing image out of her mind and ran towards Remmy. She could see him through the open door of the shed. He was on the ground, but moving. Cora hoped that he was only stunned.
“Remmy!” Cora shouted. “Remmy get up. Get up!” Cora could hear feet pounding the ground behind her, but something hummed beneath the noise. Was Samuel firing up the satellite again? Couldn’t be. Cora remembered her grandfather saying that they would only get one shot, but what was the noise? It sounded like an entire army of enraged bees. A thrum-thrum-thrum muted all the sounds around Cora, filled her ears and made her bones feel like they were vibrating.
“Samuel?” Cora called over her shoulder. Her grandfather, covered with gore, shook his head.
“It’s not me, Cora,” Samuel shouted over the sound, “but I really, really think we need to get moving now.”
Three black ERC helicopters emerged from behind the trees. A small army of heavy military vehicles kept pace below the helicopters. Cora’s eyes widened as she the heavy multi-barreled machine guns begin to spin.
“Remmy! Remmy!” Cora screamed. She dashed into the shack and yanked him from the ground. “Remmy, we need to go now!”
“Cora?” Remmy asked weakly as he rubbed his eyes and struggled to stand. “Cora, what are you doing here?”
Cora opened her mouth to answer, but her words were lost beneath the high-pitched whine of the helicopter’s machine guns. Clouds of dirt leapt up from the ground around them as Cora and Remmy ran from the shack. A moment’s hesitation and they would have been chewed to bits and lost in the splintered remains of the building.
-47-
Captain Ortiz wished that his Em-Pak would stop beeping. The other ERC soldiers in his truck glanced around trying to determine whose Em-Pak was responsible for all the noise. The truth was that they were all guilty. All of the men could see what lay before them and if they had any sense and no Em-Pak, would have been terrified. Sadly, the ERC soldiers, Ortiz included, had neither of these luxuries and blindly followed Assemblyman Eldritch’s orders to track the signal to its source.
A wave of Reds, at least twenty across and four deep raced towards Ortiz and his men. They had at first appeared confused, maybe even a little scared, but now they just looked angry. Weapons, crude but vicious, were raised high overhead. The helicopters strafed the lines of Reds with machine gun fire, but for every one Red that fell, two appeared to take its place.
Ortiz, even with his modified Em-Pak, could do the simple math of the battle. More bodies than bullets would always win. If there were enough Reds, they would eventually overrun Ortiz and his men.
“Mr. Eldritch, sir?” Ortiz called into his radio. “We have a situation here, sir.”
“I can see that, Captain,” Eldritch growled, “but what I don’t see is you dealing with it. Are you calling to resign your position? Because if you’re not, then may I strongly suggest that you start doing your damn job and track
down the source of that signal!”
“Understood, sir,” Ortiz answered and clicked off his radio. “Lock and load men. We’re going to engage the enemy.”
“Sir! Yes sir!” the ERC soldiers answered in unison. Once Ortiz and his men were out of their vehicles, the helicopters would have to stop firing and provide intel. Ortiz couldn’t risk losing any men to friendly fire. He was going to need every single soldier if they were going to survive this and complete the mission.
The helicopters pulled back, splitting off from one another and circling the clearing.
“Go now, Captain!” one of the helicopter pilots called through the radio. “There’s a break in the enemy lines!”
“You heard them!” Ortiz shouted and leapt from the driver’s seat. He checked the magazine on his machine gun, flicked the safety and prepared to face countless Reds.
The helicopter pilot had been correct, there was a break in the Reds’ lines, but only a brief one that quickly closed around Ortiz and his men. Shots went wild as the Reds surged forward, dragging soldiers to the ground, tearing into them with weapons and teeth alike.
“Stay focused on the mission!” Ortiz shouted. “Clear a path! We need to find the source of that signal!” The ERC soldiers silently nodded their agreement and focused their firing on a single column of Reds. Bodies crumpled under the hail of bullets, opening a space for Ortiz and his men.
“We’ve got space, Captain!” a soldier yelled. He turned to face Ortiz and left himself blind to the Red that leapt from behind him, dragging him to the ground and savagely tearing into his throat with row upon row of pointed teeth.
Ortiz paused to shoot the Red in the face before leading the charge through the opening his troops had made. Reds came from all sides, surging like storm waves battering the helpless edges of the shoreline, but each surge of Reds were pushed back by round after round of machine gun fire. Ortiz could see that each attack cost him at least one soldier, if not more. He would need to move and keep moving. The math was rapidly getting worse and Ortiz could sense the odds drastically tipping away from his favor.
Love Bug Page 17
