VALLEY STATION NEXT RIGHT,
Below it, a brown sign added as an afterthought:
PATTON MUSEUM NEXT RIGHT,
They were heading in the right direction. The only other sign of life in the last 30 minutes had been two sentries at Woodbridge Drive who had waved at their column, assuming they were friendlies. The commander waved back casually and the facade had been maintained.
Terminate with extreme prejudice. The order stuck into his core as a proud man and commander. All that guy had done was take a picture. Did they really give him that order? The real truth was a few layers deeper inside him. Did you really follow it? He pondered the roadway and its occasional wretched figure among the ruins. What will they ask you to do next? He inhaled slowly and tried to find himself. You need to ask yourself, where will you draw the line?
You could draw a million lines in the sand. But what do you do when they are crossed? An inconclusive sigh was the only answer for now.
They had decided on US Route 31 West because of its relative lack of towns nearby. There were few prying eyes and far less traffic to run into. The rusted wreckage on the highway and in ditches and fields nearby seemed to blend into the landscape. After a while they began to take on the same familiarity of scrub brush and cactus in a desert scene, part of the surroundings, but hardly noticeable.
The vehicles cornered slowly and descended from the Gene Snyder Freeway to the Dixie (US Route 31) below. The commander allowed his gaze to rest on the freeway’s bridge above the Dixie. An eighteen wheeler and its trailer were suspended almost straight up from the bridge to the highway below. The cabin had been crushed on impact. The trailer was vertical in the air. He allowed himself a moment to marvel at this defiance of all things gravitational.
The commander had a harder time ignoring the figures that seemed to sway forward at the sound of his convoy. A woman with the same chestnut brown hair color of his wife stood at the side of the road and watched his approach with a hint of curiosity. As he passed by her head swiveled suddenly and she bared her teeth at him and hissed. He had a chance second to look into the puss yellow and black orbs of her eyes. It was like falling into a pit of darkness and forever. What happened if you looked into those eyes for too long? What would you see? It was a second of vertigo insanity, a dizzying seizure that threatened to spread through his system and take control. He was suddenly very cold.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “I’ll never get used to them.”
“Yes sir.” Someone quietly agreed over the radio. Some chills were universal.
*
“Don’t you think we’ve played this game long enough?” The soldier Molly had first spoken to finally found his voice again.
“I don’t play games, Mister....?” Molly replied.
“Hatch, Lieutenant Hatch.” He almost seemed to spit out the words.
“Alright, Lieutenant Hatch.” She gave him a full on stare. “I don’t play games.”
“Ma’am,” the co-pilot she had spoken to earlier craned his neck back to their conversation. He was trying to be the peace maker with a polite tone. “I think all Hatch is asking for is a reference point.”
She watched the co-pilot carefully for a second while he added: “I don’t think that’s really asking for too much, ma’am.” There was a pause in the air while he waited for her reply.
“Do you know the Gene Snyder Freeway near Louisville?” Molly broke the silence.
“Got it,” he turned quickly and started to access a computer screen.
“They were spotted on the freeway south of Louisville near a place called Poplar level road.” Molly spoke slowly while the co-pilot nodded his head and typed the words into the navigational system.
“Okay,” he finally nodded and gave her a smile. “We got it.”
“Miss Hunter,” it was Hatch now. He tone had become more respectful. Clearly, he was picking up on the co-pilot’s cue. “It would also help if we knew what we were up against.”
“Why should I trust you?” Molly’s eyes were suspicious. An arched eyebrow was added to her expression for good measure.
“Well,” Hatch paused and calmly explained, “If we meet something unexpected we all get shot down together.”
Molly nodded her head and agreed. It was time to throw her hand in. Her fingers fished into her Louis Vuiton and found the cold plastic of her Blackberry. She tapped the screen and found the Deacon’s photo and passed it over.
“I’m sure you know what this is.” Molly pointed at the eight wheeled, beetle like machine.
“Strykers.” Hatch nodded his head. “They’re called Strykers.”
“Can they kill us?” Molly tried to keep her voice calm.
“Yes they can.”
*
The rain had been replaced by a clear canopy of stars. The Milky Way was slowly rising in the east as they proceeded down the Dixie. The lack of lights and his darkness sensitive eyes allowed him to pick out the black galactic clouds and stars that gathered in the air like magic dust. He had once heard that there was a bubble of radio and television signals expanding outward from this lonely blue marble in space. Was anyone listening? What would they think of us? His mouth opened for a poetic moment at the thought. Are they out there? The thought gave way to an infinite understanding to the vastness of the concept.
If they are, he brought himself back to the present. What did they think when all those signals began to take on an urgency and panic before winking out. There was something to ponder one night. Would they understand why?
Perhaps this was all even happening to them..........
Is anybody listening? The division between north and south traffic disappeared and the highway merged to one as they pressed on. The skeletal trees on his left were silent witness to the darkness and stars above.
The trees.......
His eyes carefully followed the terrain to his left. A few feet past the edge of the pavement a gully followed the roads path. It was probably a small river in the rainy season. Puddles of murky water reflected the starlight like a mirror. An embankment of 15 to 20 feet in height evened out to a tree line. His head did a slow nod. Perfect, his battle force would have a hard time finding room to maneuver if there was an ambush.
A green sign with rust on the edges announced:
FORT KNOX
ELIZABETHTOWN
The commander tapped his microphone and spoke, “Hojo, you there?’
“Yes sir.”
“Slow down to half speed.” His eyes began the slow pivot of his surroundings. “I need some time to think.”
“Slowing to half speed, sir,” There was a squeal or two in the darkness as the big machines began to battle momentum. He was trying to train himself to ignore the shifting shadows among the wreckage and the broken forms watching the column. They were distracting as hell. A child in her perfect Sunday best was standing in the gully with water up to her ankles. She was transfixed by the liquid pools beneath her feet. She turned to the commander as his vehicle passed by, the right side of her face was raw cartilage with a gaping hole between her jaw line and cheek bone. The mouth worked twice and a black tongue slithered in and out of the wound like a worm.
Jesus, he averted his eyes to the road.
“Sergeant Ubaid.” He tried to flush his mind of the image.
“Yes sir,” She answered quickly. He liked Ubaid. She was smart, precise and very alert, the perfect officer to bring up the rear and keep an eye out. She spoke a handful of languages around her home country of Egypt. To hell with past impressions and prejudices, she was one of those officers he kept close.
“How are things on your end?” He was listening to her tone now as a concrete overpass seemed to shimmer in the starlight before them.
“Very quiet, sir,” He swore he could see Ubaid take one more look around to be sure. “Is there anything wrong?”
“It just feels like ambush country.” He felt the instinct in him rising.
“Should we increase the sp
ace between vehicles?” Ubaid offered.
“Yeah, good idea.” The commander liked the thought. It felt good to take at least some counter measures to suspicion. “How many sparrows do we have?”
“Two, sir,” Ubaid replied. “The other one is with jack rabbits four and five in Louisville.”
“Have we heard from them?” The commander had a loose end on his hands there. He felt an uneasiness growing about it.
“No sir, nothing at all.” She replied.
“Increase space between vehicles and get the two sparrows in the air.” As an afterthought he added: “Tell the gunnery crews to shake the cobwebs off and have an eye.”
“Yes sir.”
He double tapped his microphone while watching the bridge grow larger and trees more skeletal. The wrecks on the road seemed to be part of the conspiracy as they began to crowd the Strykers into a single file column. Some barely showed any rust at all while others bore the orange red marks of the passing of time. He was reminded of vines growing on estates or algae at the edge of the river when he had time to go fishing. It was all just nature marking its territory.
He listened absently to Ubaid giving orders in her precise English. His unit was like any group of people randomly thrown together anywhere. It harbored personal feelings and prejudices. Any chance he had, the commander left it to Ubaid to give the orders. They had better get used to it. He listened to his men replying. She was moving up in rank soon whether they liked it or not.
“This is Birk, ma’am.” He was a huge man with massive shoulders and a real knack for techie toys. The commander wondered how a white Alabama boy would take to a dark skinned woman giving orders, but so far so good. “I have one sparrow ready. The other is with Jackrabbit 6.”
“Excellent private,” Ubaid replied. “Jackrabbit 6, are you ready?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Horowitz in Jackrabbit 6 was on the radio after a beat.
“Commander, sparrows are standing by.”
“Good,” he nodded as his head continued to watch for .........something.“ Horowitz, I want a look behind those trees on our left.”
“Yes sir,”
“Birk, give me a close up look of that over pass.” The commander leaned forward and squinted in the dark. “Don’t be too obvious. If there is someone there I don’t want them to know we are wise to them.”
“They won’t see our bird coming, sir.” Birk assured him.
“Good,“ The commander liked confidence in his people, especially when they could back it up. He finally addressed his main concern: “Ubaid?”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ve got a bit of hunch.” He confided. “Break out our SLSAMS.”
“Of course, sir.”
Shoulder Launched Surface to Air Missiles were easy to store and every Stryker in the convoy had a few. They looked like shortened bazookas that were fired at their targets. They were a huge equalizer for surface vehicles against their whirling nemesis, the attack chopper. In combat readiness they were laid out beside the hatch of each vehicle. The target would only be there for a second.
The commander gave silent thanks that high tech weaponry had either been used up or had worn out by now. If not, there was a good chance a missile could be launched from miles away, guided in by satellite technology to land within a few feet of the target. It was a terrifying thought. For all the training and armament you possessed, you were just a stick figure on someone’s screen a thousand miles away. War had always been bloody. Now it was impersonal. It felt like a slap in the face of tradition, less honourable. The commander was discarding the thought when his conscience reminded him: you’re talking about honor after giving an order to kill a civilian?
The world felt like it was closing in. The trees rustled in a careless breeze and seemed to mutter a reply. Maybe the decisions are just getting harder as the lines between what is right and wrong grow more opaque. Enough, stop it.
“Sir, this is Birk.” His words were like short barks from a dog.
“Go ahead.”
“We’re coming up on the bridge, sir.” Birk sounded vaguely distracted. Flying the tiny camera laden toys could sometimes be a chore. “We’re coming up nice and easy like you said.”
“Sir?” A voice interrupted. “This is Ubaid.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry sir.” Ubaid herself was off mic. It was like she was looking around while speaking. “There has been some activity back here.”
“What is it?” His instinct began to rise, like a wolf sensing danger.
“I thought I heard a noise.” Ubaid explained, she was trying to articulate a feeling that was more than just the jitters. It was her command intuition rising. “It was a sound. Then it was gone.”
“What else?”
“Yes sir,” Ubaid continued. “When I heard it, I looked at those things in the road....”
“....and?”
“They all looked in the same direction behind us,” Ubaid’s voice was still the same in volume, but the intensity level was way up. “They definitely heard it, too.”
“Sir, this is Birk.” His voice had taken on a rapid fire tonality.
“Go....”
“Three figures on the bridge.” Birk’s voice was a deeper shade of concentration. There was a pause before he blurted out: “Shit sir, they’re spotters, calling in our position.”
“INCOMING!” It was Ubaid’s assistant at high volume.
The helicopter flew in low right down the roadway from behind, it had to dodge the vertical truck on the bridge so the attack vector was a bit off for missile fire but the rotary cannon growled like a chained dog. The armor piercing bullets ripped through the thin steel on top of the Stryker and slashed around in the cabins like a madman with a knife. The cries were not high pitched screams of pain. They were muffled grunts of surprise before eyes closed forever.
A second modern Valkyrie passed over the trees at Ubaid’s left, she grabbed the SLSLAM and pulled the trigger, there was a blast of hot air and a hard slap from the launch that tossed her backward. She kept the barrel and her eyes focused on the blackened shape passing overhead. A second gasp of fire in front of her vehicle betrayed the launch of another missile.
There was silence in chaos. All that seemed to matter was the black form turning and crossing back toward the highway for a second run at the front of the column. Dacia Ubaid remembered as a child watching her grandmother take a white thread and slide it into a needle. The vision was almost identical to her in a dream like deja-vu moment. Two slender white threads of rocket fuel headed towards a black needle in the sky. One of the missiles found an exhaust vent just near the rear blades.
A flash sparkled in her eyes and the helicopter snapped in two like a toy. The pilot’s compartment pitched forward and fell canopy first into the highway and crashed among cars, vans and bodies. A fiery wall roared outwards toward the column with the concussion close behind. A single scarecrow figure in the road lurched around slowly to watch in curiosity as the wall of flame engulfed his long dead body. The eyes burned away as liquefied skin began to roll down his face. Still, what was left stood solid in the flames and waited for instinct to dictate the next move.
Steel and asphalt began to explode all around Ubaid and her assistant as whirling helicopter blades made her dive for cover. There was a searing moment of agony and her vision became blurred and speckled with red.
“DOWN!” Someone screamed. The commander thought it was his own voice as he slammed his top hatch shut and took cover inside.
“Go! Go! Forward to the bridge at best speed,” His machine lurched into a higher gear and the Stryker’s engine roared with eight wheels grinding the pavement.
“Jesus!” His driver swore while accelerating. There were pops in the distance getting closer. Was that gunfire? Were the choppers back? A second wave of fire made his driver blink and hood his eyes.
Gas tanks, the road was filled with old vehicles that started going up like a cluster of roman can
dles.
*
“Whoa!” It was the usually calm and silent pilot. His exclamation was a muscle reaction.
What he saw was like a meteor in slow motion. A quickly expanding fireball that suddenly grew an orange red blazing trail as it dropped earthwards. Within the heartbeat of a second, one or two orange mushrooms sprouted close to the ground and reached skywards before fading into the darkness. A sinister glow was rapidly spreading where the mushrooms had appeared. It was like a forest fire. His memory from news programs from years ago helped to fill in the blanks.
Molly’s eyes were alert in a second and watching the flickering orange firelight. The edges seemed to spread outwards like it was alive. Feeding, consuming and growing in strength. It was far enough away to hide details amid shadow and darkness. But it was close enough to be easily identified.
“Could that be them?” Molly finally spoke as her curiosity sought an outlet.
“You tell us, little lady.” Hatch was by her side now and a head taller watching the fire. He turned a few inches toward the co-pilot. “How far away is that?”
“Just a few miles,” The co-pilot was watching the orange glow that looked more and more like coals from a fire pit. “It could be them. They might have run into the Kentucky National Guard.”
“Wouldn’t somebody have told you that they had seen them?” Molly inquired.
“We’re not supposed to be here, ma’am.” Hatch replied without taking his eyes from the glow. “Besides, chain of command can be a little slow with that kind of information.”
“Slow?”
“Sounds like you have your reporter hat back on, little lady.” His face revealed a touch of sarcasm. “I think I’ll just answer by saying no comment.”
Molly mirrored his facial expression and stared him down in the shadows for a few seconds. His face had a sense of cruel irony to it. It was etched with muscular lines that had been drawn tight over an ever thickening emotional skin. Molly slowly looked away toward the embers a few miles away. The glow seemed to entice and beckon for them to follow.
“You know it’s them.” Molly finally spoke after a few seconds. He didn’t react to her words, his eyes seemed like they were miles away. He was in decision mode. Well, Molly carefully filed away the incoming information. At least I know which one of you guys are in charge.
5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors Page 3
