by J. J. Holden
Ethan felt himself sweating, heart beating fast, as his worm continued to install. But then it was done! Ethan raised his face toward the ceiling and screamed, a primitive victory roar. A geeky one. He took two deep, slow breaths to steady himself, then started the process of backing out of Watcher One’s network. One node at a time… delete only the logfile lines that related to his own activity… and he was out of NORAD.
Another deep breath, then Ethan began clearing his activity out of Watcher One’s intranet network.
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Ethan stared at his screen, dumbfounded. What had just happened? He ran through possibilities in his mind. Only one fit everything, he knew, which was that Watcher One had rebooted his computer or turned it off. Otherwise, the mirror would have shown him disconnecting.
Okay, Ethan frantically thought, how dangerous was this? What was the worst-case scenario, and what was the most likely one? Worst case, he had been seen, hacked, then cut off, and now his own network was compromised. But by far the most likely scenario was that he hadn’t been hacked, or that only his VM was compromised. Ethan cursed in frustration. He hadn’t finished clearing his tracks from Watcher One’s network. He might stumble across them, and though Ethan had deleted some, it was still possible Watcher One would find the programs Ethan had installed.
Would his torrent-like transfer of that JPEG finish before then? He couldn’t be sure. He’d just have to wait and see. All he could do now was to try to meticulously remove every trace of himself from the computers between Watcher One’s and the German slaved computer that would hold that JPEG file and the packet data, so that his nemesis couldn’t track through them before Ethan could collect the file.
As he began to relax, Ethan abruptly grew a sloppy, happy grin. He, Dark Ryder, had hacked frikkin’ NORAD itself. That was a damn fine feather in any hacker’s cap. And who knew what dividends it would pay down the road?
* * *
As the sun made its way toward the hilly horizon, Carl motioned his people to open the main gate. As it slowly slid open, he saw a growing crack of space between gate and wall, which showed what lay on the other side. There was a huge crowd…
As it continued to open, however, he could see that the teeming throng of people wasn’t just a chaotic mob. They were lined up in a long, snaking line of people that wove back and forth as it extended away from the gate, like amusement parks used to have. When the gate clanged to a stop, fully open, the whole vista lay exposed before him. In addition to the orderly snake of people that must number in the hundreds, he saw a dozen Liz Town people holding tall poles that had the Liz Town banner hanging from each. Those people stood to the sides of the crowd, spaced evenly and well apart. They acted as a boundary rope for the crowd. None in the crowd violated the invisible line that stretched between the Lizzies on either side of the crowd. Everything was well ordered.
The scene was also eerily quiet as the people stood patiently waiting in line. The faces Carl could see bore determined expressions. They were all between their late teens and late twenties. Fit. Healthy, without a crutch in sight.
Carl’s heart sped up with excitement. Cassy had been right—the wildlanders rallied at the chance to join Liz Town, even at the cost of leaving family and friends behind while they went off to fight the Mountain’s troops. The cowards would already have found reasons not to be here today. Carl’s unannounced “take a meal and go home” offer would weed out the other cowards who had merely been chastised by friends and family into coming here. That had been his own idea.
He stepped through the gateway onto the narrow strip of empty land between the wall and the crowd, and raised a megaphone to his mouth. He pulled the trigger, and for a couple of seconds it made a terrible screeching noise that faded out only slowly. When it stopped, he announced, “Wildlanders, welcome to Liz Town. You are here because we need each other, and because you aren’t afraid to do what you must to take care of those you love. We all have that in common, and for that you have the respect of Liz Town.”
He paused a moment to let it sink in. All heads were turned toward him, it seemed, and the crowd stayed quiet as they listened. That was a good sign. He had feared they would be hostile due to having been walled out early in Liz Town’s history. Maybe they were, but that was then and today was today.
“Tonight, you will step forward when told to. Keep the line orderly. Disruptions will result in dismissal. When it is your turn to approach the gate, come to the nearest recruiter with his or her hand raised. Sit in the chair before them. Answer their questions. I expect this to take all night. We will be handing out water bottles throughout the night. That is all.”
Carl clicked off the megaphone, then turned back to the gate and waved. A couple dozen Lizzies rushed out with a bunch of folding card tables and folding chairs, then set up in a row just outside the gate. The gate slowly closed, leaving only a crack for people to get through.
Six Lizzies went to sit behind the tables. All six raised their hands and held them up. The other workers moved to a huge pile of water bottles at one side of the gate, gathered up armfuls and then headed toward the crowd to pass them out.
Carl put the megaphone to his mouth again. “If you are ready, then begin. The first six, move forward. The rest, move up and keep the line in order. Carry on.”
He turned his back to the crowd and walked through the gate, returning to Liz Town. Behind him, the gate clanged fully closed. The many guards on the wall stood with weapons at the low ready, not threatening but also not making any attempt to disguise their purpose. Carl didn’t think they’d be needed.
Mary Ann approached after the gate was fully closed, having been waiting just inside “Well done, Carl,” she said.
“Thanks for agreeing to this.”
“It seems like the smart thing to do.”
Carl nodded and said, “I knew you’d agree. And you’re a good person—hell, you overlook the food and supplies someone sneaks out to the wildlanders. I knew you’d hear me out on this.”
“Yeah, well I truly hope it works.”
“I’m surprised at the turnout.”
Mary Ann winked at him. “I think that has less to do with the offer itself than it does with the trust those people have for whoever it is who keeps stealing supplies and smuggling them out. That built the groundwork for this to happen.”
“Kismet,” Carl replied. “If I find out who did the smuggling, I’ll let them know you forgive them and send your regards.”
She laughed and looked into Carl’s eyes. “Do that, but let them know it’s still stealing and I’ll take it out of the coffers of whatever Band is responsible.”
Ha. Like hell she would. But it was a warning to keep it quiet.
“In the meantime,” she continued, “I’ll leave you to your circus. Oh, and Carl? Thanks for everything.”
Carl watched Mary Ann leave, then turned his attention back toward the gate. Maybe he could still make himself useful somehow, and he didn’t have anything else to do.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sunshine behind a cluster of other Liz Towners. Carl wished she’d talk to him, but lately she had found reasons to be too busy to accept his meeting invitations. She stared at him, jaw set tightly, then clearly turned her head to look at Mary Ann’s back. Her eyes narrowed.
- 14 -
0900 HOURS - ZERO DAY +381
JAZ DUCKED BELOW the bigbox store’s shattered bay window as the Mountain’s troops returned fire. Right now, there were only a squad of them, backed up by a ragged company of Empire goons, but that Mountain squad was deadlier than anything she had seen. They totally looked like alien bugs with all those scopes or whatever over their faces. She had shot one dead-center with a burst from her M4; he fell, only to get back up and keep coming.
“They’re not superman,” Jaz said to the Free Republic fighter beside her. “You gotta hit them in the legs or the face. Legs only immobilize, but the f
ace is harder to hit. Once you take out those optics, though, they’re just normal soldiers. If they don’t die, they’re blinded.”
The trooper popped up and fired a burst, then return fire made him duck back. “We ain’t getting out of here alive, miss,” he said, “but I’m damn sure gonna take some with me.”
Choony handed her a loaded rifle. “One can only make one’s best effort,” he said.
“Forget that,” said the fighter as he fired another burst.
Jaz kind of agreed with the guy. Choony’s was the way of inner peace, but Jaz had none of that right now. She was totally amped up and jonesing for more kills. The bastards had to die. She rose up to fire, and just then one of the Empire goons darted between two bits of cove, carrying him smack dab into her crosshairs. Bang, bang. He dropped, sliding to a stop on his face. “Eat it, goon,” she shouted as she ducked again.
To her left, a woman from the Night Ghosts shouted, “Jaz, time to go! They’re coming.”
Jaz was amazed Nestor not only lived, but had raised another unit to fight the Empire. This woman was in one of his squads that got separated, but she didn’t know where her squadmates were. They had scattered, and she had cliqued up with Jaz’s peeps.
Jaz rose high enough to peer over the window ledge. The Mountain’s soldiers were popping up and down like groundhogs, each closer than the last. None stayed up long enough for Jaz to draw a bead on them. The unit was in a scattered wedge formation, coming on fast.
“Final assault. Fall back,” Jaz shouted. She and Choony got to their feet and bolted. Bullets flew all around here, and to her left, another running man screamed and fell, his blood splattering a display of moldy bread. She kept running.
“Run faster, Jaz,” Choony shouted from right behind her. “Move it!”
They made it to the end of the aisle and doglegged right into a new aisle, which then headed straight toward the warehouse area in the back of the store. Freedom… Bits of shattered something-or-other flew off the shelves to Jaz’s left, pelting her, but she didn’t think any of it cut her. The sounds of autofire from behind her reached her ears…
…and then she was through the swinging double doors, sprinting into the warehouse area itself. “Left or right,” she shouted.
“Right,” Choony replied, shoving her in that direction.
Screw it. Jaz figured he had a fifty-fifty shot at being right, so she ran with him. Then she saw the emergency exit ahead of her, leading into the back parking lot. She put her head down and redoubled her efforts, ignoring the pain of burning thighs, heedless of her shoulder-slung rifle repeatedly smacking into her elbow on every other step. When she hit the door, she didn’t slow down. Please, God, don’t let it be locked. That would totally hurt…
But it wasn’t locked. As she plowed into the door’s activation bar, it crashed open. She lost her footing as she flew through the doorway, and ate pavement. Hard.
Choony appeared at her side immediately, and roughly wrenched her to her feet. “Rest later,” he said hoarsely as she found her balance. Then they were off running again.
* * *
Nestor slapped the back of each fighter as they ran by, cutting through the mammoth store in single file. He had found a few FreeRep fighters dead on the ground as his forces secured the huge store. He had hit that store damn hard with over one-hundred fighters in three platoons, and the Mountain King had only held it for only a few minutes, Nestor recalled with a savage grin. He had trapped and slaughtered an entire squad of the supposed super-soldiers, and a boatload of Empire goons. Bye, bye. It was unfortunate the dozen FreeRep defenders had been killed during the brief time the Mountain held the store.
Ratbone, panting, held the bandage over a larger cut in his left bicep. It still oozed, but Ratbone was all business. “Building clear. Battalion of goons inbound behind us, you know. We can’t stay here.”
“I know. We gotta run. But it was nice to get this last ‘screw you’ in on them, yeah?”
“Where we headed?”
“Thirty miles east to Johnstown. I have a feeling it’s going to be a rough day.”
No more fighters came filing through the doorway, and Nestor popped his head out to be sure. No more friendlies, and their pursuers weren’t yet close enough to see. “Looks like the squad of wounded did rear-guard well. Now let’s go.”
Ratbone nodded. “Rest their souls.” He ran toward the back of the building.
They went through the winding warehouse area at the rear of the store, out the back door. A small parking lot lay between them and cover, and Nestor ran toward those trees as fast as he could, at the tail end of the stream of fighters. The trees loomed, then they were through the tree line. Nestor stopped, panting, and looked around.
His troops were clustered up, catching their breath. They were reloading, checking bags, tying boots. The usual. What wasn’t usual was the three new faces standing with one of his newer recruits. Nestor knew two of them, and his eyes bugged out. What were the odds?
“Holy crap,” he said. “Jaz? Choony? I thought you were south of Confed.”
The stunningly beautiful woman—attractive despite looking like a ragged little street urchin at the moment—grinned. “Nestor lives. Long time no see. We were in the store, got overran. We fled here, then heard your assault and stayed to catch a peek on what was going down.”
Nestor laughed. “Well, glad you’re alive. We got real problems, though.”
“Yes,” Choony said, stepping up to stand beside Jaz.
“So here’s the situation as I know it. Lawson Heights is falling. It was a hard fight, but those Mountain troops are scary rugged and they got vehicle support. Can’t beat that. They even got drones for eyes, but most of those should be out of juice by now. We can move without being seen from the air, I think.”
Choony said, “Lawson Heights is important to us, but just a small theater to our enemies.”
“Well, they won this small theater,” Nestor said, nodding. “You need to head east. About thirty miles, head to Johnstown. We have units rallying there from all over the damn place. Tomorrow, those troops are striking out to the east. The Appalachians are their bug-out destination, so if you miss them, head there. FreeRep is going guerrilla, it seems. Or, more guerrilla.”
“Sounds like they’ll be playing your song, Nestor. But what about you?” Jaz asked. “How many peeps you got, and what’s your party plan?”
Ratbone stepped up and said, “We got about a battalion of guerrillas left. We’re going to harry the enemy with small-unit actions to buy time for the FreeRep fighters to get up into the mountains.”
Jaz paused, her eyes clicking to Nestor. She looked pensive. “You sure?”
Nestor nodded. “Yep. We’ll be fine, or we won’t. I might let my other half out to play for a while. Either way, it seems to be what I was born for.”
Ratbone glanced at Nestor, like he had something to say but decided not to. Nestor had noted a lot of that from his people lately, whenever he mentioned finally letting the Other out to run the show for a while. Those looks made Nestor nervous, but dammit, he didn’t have time to play games.
Choony nodded, a faint smile on his face. Of all of the Clanners, Choony would be the one to best understand…
Choony said, “Things are as they are. I wish you the protections and blessings of Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.”
Nestor grinned. “Thanks, I’ll take his blessings, too. Any help I can get is fine with me. Okay, kids, recess is over.” He turned to Ratbone and said, “Make sure we send a squad with these two, but send them light on gear. They can forage on the way and up in the mountains. Stock ’em up on ammo, though.”
Ratbone nodded curtly and walked away.
Nestor said, “Okay, you two. In five minutes, head northeast for a couple miles, then bee-line east to Johnstown. If you can handle it, keep moving all damn day. You want to get there in time to rest up before they move out, or they’ll leave you behind, so push hard. I’ll see you
later, maybe.”
Jaz gave him a hug—which was awesome, of course—and Choony shook his hand. They said their farewells, and Nestor watched as Jaz, Choony, and some of his own fighters double-timed it out of there. He let out a long breath. He didn’t expect to see them again in this life, but hopefully he could buy them time to get to safety. Lawson Heights was lost, and there wasn’t much else around to hide in. Ah, well. He’d had a good run, lately, and never had expected that to last forever.
He turned and shouted, “Alright, gather up! Take a knee, and standby for orders. We’re the rear guard this time, and here’s the game plan, boys and girls…”
* * *
Frank looked up and saw the sun high overhead. The sundial said it was around noon. He glanced at the digital clock Ethan had set up, which was synchronized with the prior day’s noon. Local time was always accurate by the sun, timezones long forgotten. The clock said 12:46 p.m.
Most of his morning had been spent in meetings. First up had been Liz Town, their envoy and Frank talking to the chancellor about the supplies situation. It would be a lean winter, but they’d have just enough, and Frank agreed with her plan to arm and supply an army of refugees and wildlanders to throw at occupied Free Republic. It wasn’t all occupied, but the signs indicated the Free Republic forces were collapsing on every front. It was only a matter of days, he thought, before the formerly Free Republic territories were all green on Ethan’s map. Or whatever color showed General Houle’s territory.
Then Cassy had told him of her idea about requesting supplies from the ’vaders in northern Pennsylvania. He had agreed it was worth a shot, but insisted that whoever went to them were volunteers. Too bad Choony wasn’t around, because he would have been a perfect choice.
