by B. C. Tweedt
He didn’t waste time; he jetted across the bricks, his shoes slapping next to drone parts sticking from the snow. The smoke was growing thicker, and the wind kicked it his direction. Liam shot through it at some invisible target.
Greyson flicked on his infrared and found the heat from the soldier’s gunfire coming from the Main Lodge’s second floor. The soldier ducked Liam’s bullets and fired again at the street.
It had happened too fast.
Greyson heard a child’s screams. Found her heat signature as it fell in the middle of the street. Another little one lay next to her.
“No!”
He flicked back to normal vision and sprinted through the smoke, his chest pounding with despair. And there was Drake, picking them up. He had one over his left shoulder, the other pulled by his right. Asher snatched a running toddler who had left his buddy, trying to heave him toward the lodge by the armpits.
And thirty yards behind them, a pickup raced in their direction, blaring its horn. Its driver was yelling, “Get in!” waving his hand as the smoke wrapped around the truck’s undercarriage.
Greyson skidded to a stop, his mouth agape in the precious little time he had before disaster. As his senses overloaded, time seemed to slow. He saw his HUD identify the StoneWater soldier in the second floor above, poking his barrel out. He saw the two Bradleys’ big red triangles on his mini-map and heard one of their treads – the creaking of its turret turning. Drake’s face catching sight of the Bradley, his eyes straining toward Asher, his hands helplessly full.
And he saw the large snowflakes, glittering against the dark backdrop of a cloudless sky, falling across the wisping smoke.
He never saw the missile.
When the pick-up exploded, the wave of heat melted layer after layer of snowflakes, closer and closer until the heat washed against Greyson’s face. After the wave of heat came the pickup’s flaming carcass, boosted by the missile from behind.
Greyson saw Drake step toward the lodge just as the wreckage flew past him. Asher hadn’t seen it coming, either. But Ankeny was there, yanking him to safety – the boy’s shoes just missing the truck’s hood.
Greyson and the others had just enough time to duck as the truck barreled past them, striking and toppling the moose statues in a spectacular crash that sent another wave of flames and heat, scorching any snow from their bodies.
“Mother father!” Windsor shouted, staring at the wreckage that now blocked their view of the boulevard.
Greyson took a moment to collect himself, shielding his eyes from the heat. But he heard children and had to keep moving, crouching around the truck’s flames. Once around the wreckage he saw the remaining kids being herded inside the lodge. Liam was still firing at the soldier in the second floor.
With a flash of anger Greyson took control from the DOC. He zipped Liam through the open window, past the soldier’s head. The drone spun faster than the soldier could.
Poot-poot-poot!
Before Greyson could be too satisfied with the revenge, Windsor was pushing at him from behind. “Another one, behind us! Go, go!”
Sure enough, another Bradley’s front treads were rolling onto the west end of the boulevard.
They bolted through the diminishing smoke toward the Main Lodge as the Bradleys let loose with their guns. They stampeded through the doors just before they were ripped apart and flung inside the lobby, all the way to the front desk.
Greyson waited for Jarryd and Avery to pass, keeping his slingshot trained on the doorway, daring any soldiers to follow. Jarryd held Avery’s hand, but it was Jarryd that appeared more frightened.
“Come on, Greyson!” Avery urged from the hall, glancing toward the elevator.
He glanced back, taking in the situation. The elevator was full of children, including the injured ones, and its door was closing. A few adults, Drake’s squad, and most importantly, Avery, would have to wait for the next load. Meanwhile, the female soldier was watching the back door, her four-eyed goggles covering much of her face. But he could see her clearly enough now.
Rachael?
It had to be.
He would have time to question her later. For now, he had to hold off any attacks until the elevator came back.
He backpedaled and put a shoulder to the hall’s corner, keeping his eye on the entrance. The BallBoom in his ammo pouch was itching to be fired.
The Bradley’s treads crunched through debris just outside, not yet visible.
“They coming?” Windsor asked, putting his back to the wall.
“Not yet,” he said, “but they know we’re here.”
“Well,” Windsor started, gesturing at his slingshot, “that’s not gonna do anything to it. Remember that ambush in Dallas?”
Greyson remembered. Explosions on both sides of the Bradley hadn’t fazed it. “Maybe a direct hit on its treads…”
“That’s a big maybe.”
Drake and Jarryd jogged to them from the end of the hall.
Greyson furrowed his brow in thought, still talking to Windsor. “So, what can take out a Bradley? Anything?”
The others panted for air, searching for an answer. Then, after Windsor breathed a long sigh, his hands on his knees, he swiveled his eyes to Greyson. “Another Bradley?”
Jarryd scoffed.
Drake shrugged it off, getting down to business. “Greyson, last ride down’s on its way.”
Greyson turned for a moment to see the blood on his shirt and hands. It made his heart miss a beat, but he just turned back to the entrance. “You have them, Drake. And now you have Avery. Keep them safe.”
Drake nodded solemnly. “Rubicon’s on its way. Rachael said.”
“Good. But our drones are out of ammo and they’re shooting kids.”
There was a long pause as the others noted the sounds of gunfire beginning to die down. A Humvee’s powerful engine zipped past and its brakes squeaked; the Bradleys’ cannons continued their barrage.
“Even if we fail, we distract them,” Greyson said. “Keep them away from here.”
They nodded their heads in silent agreement.
“I’m in,” Windsor said.
“Me, too,” Jarryd agreed. “As long as brace-face keeps Avery safe.”
Ignoring Jarryd, Drake let a brief pause elapse before giving an understanding glance at the corners of Greyson’s eyes. “We’ll pray for y’all.”
Windsor said thanks for them as Drake ran to the remaining group. Greyson could feel their stares, but he didn’t dare return the look lest StoneWater came sneaking in through the front on his watch.
Soon the elevator dinged down the hall and the final group merged inside. When the doors closed, Rachael raced over.
“Boys. Which of you can drive?”
Both Windsor and Jarryd raised their hands and then glared at each other.
“Jarryd. You know the area,” she said as she handed him the keys. “Now, all of you. Follow me. Now!”
Greyson paused even as the others followed her order. “But we have to stop the Bradleys…”
“What do you think we’re doing?”
Chapter 57
Jarryd tapped the accelerator, giving the pick-up’s gurgling engine just enough gas to creep up the hill, but not enough to alert the whole block. His fingers were stuck to the hard wheel as he pouted to himself. Why did he volunteer for this? Had he known he’d be riding some ancient jalopy from the 90s’ right past a modern death-vehicle called a ‘fighting machine’ he wouldn’t have raised his hand.
But it was too late to back out. If he didn’t cross the street ahead, the soldiers would most likely find Avery, killing anyone in their path to get her.
“Now,” came the call from the walkie.
Gugugugugugug.
He inched the truck out, trying to avoid the debris that crackled under the truck’s weight.
“You’ll never take her!” he screamed out the window.
So
ldiers’ eyes jumped to his, and the Bradley’s turret whipped toward him.
GUGUGUGUGUG!
The truck spun out over debris, banging Jarryd back into the seat. He fought with the wheel and didn’t look to his left until he had completely crossed into the next alley.
He exhaled, adrenaline pulsing.
“Keep going,” the walkie chirped. “We’re on both sides of you…now.”
Jarryd only saw the side of the building to his right and another to his left with trash cans by a side door. They were hidden well.
“They’re following! Good luck!”
Okay. Now the hard part.
Gugugugugugugugug!
The accelerating truck came to an open area by the cabins and pulled a hard left toward the slopes, churning up clumps of snow and mud. When he passed his cover, he opened the door, put his hands over his head, and jumped out.
-------------------------------
Greyson watched Liam’s camera view on his DOC. Out of ammo, the drone had taken shelter in the Lodge’s second floor. Though he couldn’t shoot, Liam was still far from useless. Hovering just inside the darkness of the window, he watched as the Bradley and its infantry took Jarryd’s bait.
Greyson cracked his knuckles and wriggled his fingers, readying himself for the tricky maneuver. It was all about timing.
The Bradley approached the alleyway. Despite its heavy armor, it was fast and agile; with a box missile launcher, a 25mm chain gun, and the ability to transport soldiers in its back, it was a formidable foe. There were only a few vulnerabilities. The driver’s head poked up from the front left, and the gunner’s torso poked up from the top of the cannon turret, protected on three sides with armored plates. Only the back of the gunner’s helmeted head was open.
That’s precisely where Liam struck.
He came out of the window like a pendulum and rocketed into the gunner’s helmet with a metallic clash.
The gunner’s body crumpled inside the vehicle.
“Bingo!” Greyson shouted in a whisper, guiding Liam away from danger. The Bradley kept its path, curling into the alley. It spotted the bed of Jarryd’s truck in the clearing beyond the alley’s end and raced forward, leaving the three infantrymen behind.
Storing Liam on a rooftop, Greyson readied his slingshot, facing the open window to the alley. The glass shook, the light from the boulevard was blacked out, and the armored Bradley invaded from the right, taking up the entire window with its bulk.
As soon as it passed, he ran to the window, found the soldiers to the right, and snapped the BallBoom below the wall beyond them.
BOOOOOOSSSSH!
The glass broke and muddy snow slapped his body, spurting through the window from the alley as the wall collapsed on the soldiers. At the same time, Rachael’s gunfire from the alley’s end spat at the Bradley’s front, taking out the driver and making it pause.
Greyson wiped the mud from his goggles just in time to see Windsor roll from the trashcan in the middle of the alley, run at the back of the Bradley’s tread and leap – not toward the top of the treads, which were nearly seven-feet high, but toward the wall. Then, like some sort of ninja, he leaped from the wall, bounced to the armored side of the Bradley, to the wall again, and then to the top of the Bradley. It didn’t take him long to find the port where the gunner had stood. In his hands was the smoke grenade Rachael had given him. He pulled the pin and dropped it inside.
Greyson almost panicked as the back hatch opened and two soldiers came out firing and coughing. He’d forgotten the next part of the plan. Rachael had said it so fast. Was he supposed to take them out?
He was frantically finding and loading a new ball when Rachael appeared on the top turret with her rifle aimed below.
RATATATATATAT!
“Get in!” she shouted.
He climbed out the window and pulled up his gaiter as he entered the back hatch. Windsor had already found the smoking grenade and thrown it further in the alley, taking with it any new smoke to obscure the soldiers’ bodies.
There wasn’t much room in the smoky back, and it was full of dials, levers, and contraptions that he couldn’t hope to guess what they did. There were a few missiles on a rack. He was pretty sure he knew what those did, and he wasn’t super comfortable sitting next to them.
But he had no choice. Windsor took the other seat and Rachael was working the gunnery area as if she had done it before. She stepped in the cylindrical turret chamber and looked in one periscope, and then another, her hands working the controls to the cannon turret.
He heard the turret moving, but could only see out the back hatch where the smoke was churning against both sides like a flood of whitewater.
“Where is it?” Rachael asked. “Use the drone!”
Greyson sent Liam airborne. Hovering higher and higher to stay out of range, he began to see beyond the buildings and into the streets. Humvees were converging on them – three of them. And a Bradley was already there, on the other side of the smoke, its back hatch open and soldiers filing out. Red triangles flicked into view like flashlights.
“Close the hatch!”
Rachael looked back in fear and slammed a switch.
WHIRRRRRR…
The hydraulic system lifted the hatch, raising it from the snow, slowly blocking out the view of the smoky alley.
“It’s right behind us! Fire, fire!”
The hatch had risen halfway when the first soldier emerged from the smoke into the midst of the bodies.
RATATATATATAT!
Bullets pinged the hatch as it closed out the soldiers and clanged shut.
A second later, there was a great whooshing sound as their missile fired.
The explosion set an earthquake rattling inside their hatch, and Greyson glanced nervously at the missiles on the rack, wobbling back and forth.
The explosion’s debris rained in the alley and the sound of the fire crackled outside.
“Bradley down!” Rachael reported.
“Baller!” Windsor shouted, knuckling Greyson’s hand. “Taking their own medicine!” They celebrated together, hollering and jeering at StoneWater.
But their smiles vanished as the first boot hit the roof. Soldiers’ shouts echoed from outside. They were being boarded.
Rachael slammed the gunner’s hatch shut and shouted. “Jarryd, get us out of here!”
Greyson arched his brow. Jarryd? But…
“Hold on tight!” Jarryd exclaimed from up front.
Greyson leaned to look past the turret chamber, where Jarryd sat in the driver’s seat, holding the driver’s yoke – as if he actually knew how to drive the thing.
The Bradley jerked forward, sending Windsor and Greyson sprawling to the floor.
“GIDDY UP!”
Greyson cracked a nervous smile at Windsor.
This will be interesting.
Chapter 58
Sydney practiced her tendus behind stage, battling her nerves. Anxious fingers pulled on the creases in her outfit, still uncomfortable with the way it showed her every curve. Everyone would be looking at her, bathed in lights, with nothing to hide. Every flaw exposed, every mistake a tragedy. And the auditorium was packed. The director had scheduled the performance for voting day precisely because of the theme – freedom. American flags and banners abounded, and every theatergoer was given a tiny flag to wave at the end. He’d been unsure if the community would show up, but they had in force.
She peeked around the edge of the curtain, searching for Nick and her parents. Though she couldn’t see them, she could see an array of little rectangle display screens lit up – most likely with real-time election results.
They had to be there somewhere. They wouldn’t miss this for the world. Would they? Everything had been packed and ready to go for after the show. Had something come up? She padded to her bag, saying hi to her nervous dance mates along the way as they touched up their make-up, reattached loose eyelashes, and
added one last piece of American bling to their cheeks. Some sprayed glitter in their plastered hair done up in the fanciest of buns, and others were sneaking junk food, hoping it wouldn’t bust their outfits until after the show.
Sydney pulled her phone from the bag.
No texts.
Relieved, she checked her news application.
Exit polls were giving Reckhemmer the early advantage. UN officials had encountered little violence or irregularities. It seems that many of the nation’s fears were not coming to fruition.
She pushed all the air from her lungs and brought in fresh through her nose. Like Nick had said, it would be okay. If she just got through this, she’d get to see her old friends again. After so long.
The music blared and the sound of hundreds of people standing for the Star Spangled Banner filled the backstage. The girls snapped to attention, scuttling to the edge of the curtain, lining up for their grand entrance.
It would be okay.
-------------------------------
Jarryd pounded the accelerator and whipped the Bradley onto the rocky path; he heard the soldiers’ bodies hit the ground in a mad spin, but he didn’t let up. This path would take them to a trail of switchbacks in the mountain, taking StoneWater’s attention further from the Lodge and Avery.
“Clear!” Rachael yelled over the wind, popping her head out the gunner’s hatch.
Luckily he still had his ski goggles around his neck, because the wind burned his eyes with snow and the frigid air froze his tears.
He pulled them up, leaving only one hand for the yoke stick. When his goggles slipped over his eyes, he didn’t see the pine tree in the dark.
SNAP!
The tree cracked in two and hit the front of the vehicle, right next to his exposed head. He jerked the yoke to the left, smashing the tree to the ground, and then swerved back on track, the churning treads skidding on the snow.
“Geez, Jarryd!” Greyson yelled from the back, snapping on his seatbelt.
