A Congress of Angels (The Collective)

by Fore, Jon

  Jackson settled to one side, wedging his foot against the bent trunk of a tree and Maria climbed between him and the tree. He wrapped his arms around her and held her there, keeping her from sliding back down to the camp. There they waited until the soldiers collected in the center. There was some talk, what had to be a shout of surprise, then some shouting in anger, a short argument, and then they began heading out in an organized mass of professional soldiers.

  "Can we get down now? My back is hurting something terrible, boy-howdy."

  "In a few minutes," Vega said softly.

  "Why are we waiting?” Maria asked, adjusting herself in hopes of relieving some of Jackson's discomfort.

  "Those are Rangers, dear. They will hear us coming back down, especially now that they're looking for us."

  "How do you know that?” Maria asked.

  "Because that officer, the one in charge, he didn't like me. He noticed we were missing."

  "Why didn't he like you?” Jackson asked.

  "Because I'm a girl," Vega said simply.

  "Oh," Jackson said. "Odd. I like girls."

  "He's old Army. It doesn't matter."

  "So why didn't we go with them anyway?” Maria asked, now placing most of her weight into the roots of the bent tree and off of Jackson's back.

  "See down there," Vega pointed next to the tents where three jeeps were parked, "One of them is from the seventies. I know, cause I drove one."

  After a long reflective pause, Maria asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Simple. Cars back then didn't have computer circuits in them. That one, I am betting, will start even after the E.M.P."

  "You know you're betting your life on that.” Maria said in a simple, almost amused tone.

  "I suppose I am. Either way, let’s go see. If we have to, we can catch up with the Rangers.” Vega began sliding down to the foot of the hill on her butt. She could hear the others coming down in much the same way, and she hoped none of them hit a rock on the way down. Last thing they needed right now was a severely bruised ass or to leave Jackson's man-stuff hanging on a rock or fallen branch.

  When she made the bottom, she turned to see the other two were actually coming down on their feet, like snow skiers without snow. Maria came down first, and when she made the bottom, she fell into a run. Vega caught her and they both turned to catch Jackson, which didn't work. He stumbled right through them, but the girls slowed him enough. He got his feet under him, and after a few more steps, kept himself from falling.

  "The first thing we need to do is raid the supply tent for guns and ammunition and food. You guys can do that while I go try the jeep."

  "Wait," Maria said, "I don't know anything about guns. I know cars though. Let me check the jeep, you and Jackson get the guns and food." The girl didn't wait for an answer, and jogged off toward the jeeps.

  "Okay, it's me and you, Big Guy.” Vega said and tugged on his sleeve.

  He followed her reluctantly, keeping his eyes on Maria. Vega could tell the big man was afraid for her.

  They went into the tent, and sure enough, there were supplies in plenty. Large cartons of M.R.Es, rifles and handguns, ammunition and even grenades. To Vega, it seemed like too much to be left behind, and she wondered if they intended to come back with a vehicle to pick this up. But then again, most vehicles wouldn't work now. Not after having their little computerized brains fried.

  Outside, Vega heard the jeep turn over, and she couldn't believe how relieved she actually was. In her head, she knew the thing would start. Really, why wouldn't it? Still, in her heart there was a deep seated doubt that was unshakeable. Unshakable until now. The relief that washed over her was nearly intoxicating.

  Jackson muttered, "She did it, boy-howdy. What a girl."

  "She is a slice of something special, huh?” Vega added.

  "Boy-howdy," He said.

  "Let's get two boxes of food, a rifle for you and her, and then grab some of the ammunition and grenades and anything else you think will be of use."

  "I can't see....” Jackson said.

  As if Maria heard Jackson, the tent illuminated almost painfully with the headlights of the jeep. It squealed a complaint as she brought it to a stop, headlights aimed into the front door-flap.

  "Let's get as much as we can and fast," Vega said and headed out with two battle rifles. She passed Maria heading in who looked at the rifles for a moment, and then vanished inside. Vega laid the rifles on either side of the back seat and headed back into the tent.

  After some five minutes, the jeep was stuffed with food and ammunitions and one crate of fragmentation grenades. After a short tutorial by Vega on how to shoot and load and clear the battle rifles, Maria and Jackson climbed into the back, the bench just wide enough for them. If not for Jackson's large size or Maria's slender size, they wouldn't have fit.

  Vega climbed into the driver seat next to two five gallon cans of gas for the jeep, "I think we are about three hours away from Amsterdam. This road goes directly to it. You guys ready?"

  Jackson looked at Maria who looked at him. Then they both looked back at Vega, "Yeah, we're ready.” Maria said. "As ready as we can be, for sure."

  "I have no idea what kind of resistance we are going to see, so be ready for it.” Vega warned, then turned back to the wheel. She stood on the clutch, and shifted to first, than sprang ahead in a very utilitarian way. It was jolting, bone jarring, but something about the stiff construction of the jeep, the utility of the vehicle that made Vega feel better. Safer. It would take a tank to kill this thing, and as far as she knew, the demons didn't have tanks.

  The fact that they were not enclosed in metal was a concern, but Vega hoped speed would counter that. Get the last hundred and some miles to Amsterdam before the demons could catch up with them. That was all there was to it. But, the thing with these jeeps was it didn't go any faster than seventy, even in its top gear with the gas pedal on the floor. She hoped it would be enough.

  Unlike before the Ranger post, the roads were completely clear of other cars. The bottle neck was behind them and Vega felt just fine going top speed. The road was well maintained and the headlights parted the darkness without trouble. Short of the streetlights and the lights hanging above the traffic signs being out, the drive felt nearly normal. Well, there was also the loud hum of the off-road radials, but that felt good to Vega in its own way. It felt stable.

  Sometime into the journey, they had not been attacked. The threat seemed to be getting further and further away, and all of them began to relax. Still, however, the two in the back looked exhausted, more than Vega felt, and her heart went out to them. "Why don't you two get some sleep now? I got this."

  "Yeah?” Jackson shouted.

  "Yeah. If I need you, I will wake you. Just safety the weapons and see if you can't get some sleep."

  Vega returned her eyes to the road but could feel the jeep swaying with Jackson's movements as they stowed their rifles and got comfortable, or as comfortable as a man his size packed into a tumbler seat could.

  Vega allowed her mind to wander. The yellow dashed line ran rhythmically beneath the right tires as she went, the wind loud over the windshield. The road stretched before her in a straight line, off and into the distance. All she had to do was keep her foot on the gangly gas pedal, and keep the thin, hard steering wheel centered.

  The people at the hospital, Emma and the Sergeant, were they still alive? What about Lt. Carol? He was probably alive. He was a good officer; smart, athletic, and no victim for anyone. What about the Master Sergeant and his beloved daughter? Could they have survived? Stationed in the Midwest seemed to be a good place to have a chance for survival, but there was no way for her to know for sure. Vega couldn't believe how important communication was, how she and everyone else took it for granted without even considering. Two months ago, or whenever, she could have pulled her phone out and dialed Carol or the Master Sergeant and talked to them. Hell, she could have called the Pentagon and gotten a
situation report directly from them. After the E.M.P, all of this was gone. Was humanity really that vulnerable to a magnetic pulse?

  Computers. They were all dead now. Vega had no clue to what range the E.M.P. reached, but anything within the blast was dead and not coming back. Not even backups of the things that were destroyed. Anything with an integrated circuit, which was now-a-days anything with a power button, was gone. Power outages, water treatment facilities, nuclear power plants, fresh water supplies, car, planes, boats.... Boats. They would have been affected as well. Their radios, their navigation systems, computerized helms, and their engines would all be dead now. In one ground vibrating thump, humanity had been reverted to the dawn of the Iron Age.

  Vega felt her skin crawl cold and her heart tighten. Could humans be losing this war with the demons? Was it really the Apocalypse, the end of Man? Her dreams were not great dreams, her desires no great thing, but the idea of the end of mankind scared her to the very core. She would not have thought that the might of the United States Military could actually fail. But it had. It was. It seemed to be. They didn't have missiles or drones or radar or tanks or even fire control computers. No airplanes, that was for sure, a given. Ships, the might of the Navy had to be gone if not severely crippled. Did the modern day war fighting ship have a way to revert back to sails? Could the redundant systems be entirely mechanical? These thoughts did little to comfort her.

  The bully of any Battle Group was the carrier, and the carriers all now carried planes that wouldn't fly. The bully of the Battlefield was the tank, and they weren't rolling anymore. Maybe something from a museum, but not an Abrams. There was so much technology on those guys, there was no way they were running. If they were caught in the blast. That was the thing. This started in Germany, and the E.M.P. was in Germany. Maybe the American forces were untouched and still viable in America.

  Lights came on suddenly before her, Large glaring lights and she smashed the break peddle with both feet. The large tires locked up and she began to slide, but the jeep remained in her control. Someone started shouting over a loud speaker at her, but she couldn't hear the words over the screeching tires. The large globes of blinding white light kept getting larger, taking her vision, and finally the Jeep began to slow until it stopped abruptly sending the passengers forward painfully in their seats.

  "What in the sunny hell?” Maria asked.

  The loud speaker was repeating over and over again an order in German, and Vega had no idea what they were saying. She stood on the floor boards and leaned over the windshield. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted "English" as loud as she could.

  "Get out of car! All of you!" the loud-speaker voice called back.

  Vega sat back down, "Come on guys, leave the rifles."

  "What's going on?” Maria asked in an even tone.

  "Roadblock. Refugee control most likely.” Vega said as she stepped out of the jeep.

  "Are we in Amsterdam?” Jackson asked as he got out as well, stretching his back.

  "I don't know for sure, but I think so."

  Maria came to stand with them, "What do we do?"

  "We wait for..."

  "Walk to the lights!"

  "...instructions," Vega finished. "Come on, let’s go see what's up there. Try not to look into the lights.” Vega began walking toward the collection of flood lamps some yards ahead.

  Maria and Jackson clasped hands and followed.

  "Halt! Who are you and why are you in the restricted zone?" The voice had given up its bullhorn but didn't sound any less commanding.

  "We are Americans. We are fleeing the south.” Vega called as if challenging them.

  "Americans? Come to the lights!"

  Vega looked over her shoulder at her companions and then headed again to the road block. This time, they didn't stop her until she was beneath the terrible lights.

  "You have papers?” A German officer asked.

  "I have... ID. If that is what you mean." She pulled out her wallet and handed him her military ID. Not the undercover ID, but her real one. She also revealed to him her badge.

  "Where are you going?” The officer asked.

  "Amsterdam."

  "Why is this?"

  "We want to catch a boat to America," Vega said patiently.

  "You are in Amsterdam, but I doubt you will find this boat."

  "We have to.” Vega put her hand out and waited for the officer to return her ID.

  He eventually did, "Your friends, they are American? Military policing officers?"

  "No, they are civilians."

  "Do they have passports?"

  "I don't think so. We had to leave quickly."

  "Yes, I would think." The officer seemed to be relaxing somewhat.

  Vega asked, "Can you tell me, where are the monsters now? Have they made it this far north?"

  "No, not yet. They are coming I understand," He sighed. "They have been coming for weeks now. We can't stop them it seems. Now, we have lost all our electronics. We can't track them on traffic cameras or with radar or even fly recon. We are blind and waiting for them now."

  "Do you have any word on America?"

  "I don't know how accurate, but they are bad like us. Except, they are fleeing south. Refugee camps are setup all across the southern part of your country and the military is almost in a constant retreat. But that was before we lost our radios and satellites."

  Vega felt her blood run cold with this news. It certainly seemed as though they were losing the war. "Will you let us pass and go see if we can get a boat?"

  "Yes, of course. Go and get your vehicle and we will let you through."

  "We have some armaments on board.” Vega warned.

  "That's American arms?"

  "Yes."

  "Then that will be fine. Go and we will let you pass.” He smiled this time, just a short tight smile to another embattled soldier. It was no longer your country, your race, your creed or religion. Now it was simply if you were human. Vegan smiled back, "Thank you, sir."

  She turned to find Jackson and Maria collected behind her now, "Come on, let’s get back in the jeep and go. They will let us pass." She put an arm around Maria's shoulders and led them back to the jeep.

  "Do you really think America is losing?” Maria asked in a tight voice.

  "I don't know. The Germans are having a tough go of it. So I guess the Americans would as well."

  "We won’t lose," Jackson said with a mouth full of confidence.

  "No?” Maria asked.

  "No. We have the best men in uniform... and women.” He smiled at Vega, "They won't let the U.S. down."

  Vega smiled back at him, "I hope your right about that one."

  They climbed back into their places in the jeep and Vega put it into first, driving at the barricade slowly. "Keep the weapons stowed. They knew we have them, but I don't want anyone getting nervous."

  "Yeah, sure. Me neither, boy-howdy."

  They approached the red and white striped two-by-four, which after a few seconds, rose to let them pass. The Officer was there, and he gave them all a curt nod of 'good luck', and Vega nodded back.

  Two miles later they entered Amsterdam and found it impossibly packed with people. Throngs of humanity milled about, seemingly without point. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder and it became more and more difficult to get the jeep through. They were idling in first gear and still Vega had to stop the car every few seconds and honk the horn.

  "This is bad.” Jackson said.

  "It is.” Vega agreed. She began looking around for somewhere less crowded, but in each direction the masses thickened, not lessened. They were civil, at least right now they were, and there was nothing Vega could do but keep going. She knew that directly north was the water, and there was the only place they would find a boat, but it was going to take a long time.

  All around them were every sort of person. Some of them, most of them, were filthy and homeless, but still civil. Vega thought hard about passing out
some of their food, but there were just too many. One way to start a fight was to throw food into a pack of hungry mongrel dogs. If she gave one out, just one, the rest of these people would rush them, seeking their own hand out, maybe even mistake them for some United Nations relief effort. Either way, they would be overrun and everything they had would be taken. It broke her heart, but she didn't want to be the cause of a riot, and hoped none of them could read the sides of the boxes that rode in the back of the jeep.

  Vega caught sight of a group of children, all of them had to be less than ten years old. They were huddled in a mass against the opening of an ally. There were no adults there, no one to help them, guide them, raise them. They were individuals or siblings in a loose throng all their own, and Vega felt a tear break loose and settle on her cheek.

  "Look at that.” Jackson said, pointing over Vega's shoulder to the right of the road.

  There stood a group of women, some young, some not so much so, all in some form of evocative garment or the remains of one, each trying to buy their way to their next meal with their bodies.

  "Oh, that sucks.” Maria said. "Poor girls...."

  Along the lanes were garbage cans or oil barrels ablaze, some burning length of furniture wood and some even books. It was all the light and warmth the streets held in a city that used to be a tourist attraction. Smoke and the stench of so many unwashed people assaulted her nose and made Vega feel sick to her stomach, not that she had eaten anything in the last half day. Night would be over soon, and day break would bring a whole new laundry list of terrible sights when it came.

  Regardless of how civil the people were being, it was clear that society had collapsed and was all but gone. This place was a mad house now, just a stack of fat kindling waiting for the right spark. Desperate people didn't need demons. They could destroy their own city, disregard their own laws, burn their own literature and art without any help: anarchy as the result of desperation, and these people were already desperate.

  The commercial area gave way to industrial areas, manufacturing and processing in utilitarian buildings, and still people lined the streets in throngs. Some carried everything they owned in their arms, and tried to lead children as they reassured spouses. Most of the facilities were closed while others were open and filled with refugees. Still, the foot traffic on the streets dissolved somewhat, and Vega began to smell the sea air. She knew they were getting close to the ocean.