Isaiah nodded and gazed at the old foundry. “We dug this up?”
Sergeant Boka pointed at the wooden ladders, a few sat against the packed dirt walls to the hole. “Go up and see, general.”
Isaiah walked stiff legged from the cot. “Where is everyone?”
“Go and see, Isaiah,” she said and pointed.
“Little sister, I asked a question.”
“And I answered it, big brother. Now look.”
Isaiah shook his head and stepped out from the chamber and climbed the ladder to the surface. He crested the ledge and stood to face a field covered by thousands. A voice called out and everyone stood and cheered him, his stomach tightened. He looked back into the deep pit. “What is this, Sergeant Boka?”
“You’re army. And they have brought all their metal to make weapons.”
Isaiah took a deep breath and turned to face the multitude. He lifted a fist into the air and the crowd roared. Their combined voices trembled the ground beneath his feet. “The battle will be here,” he said in a low voice. “The battle will be here.”
29
Patricia Jones and Jason Aries left their hideout in the Virginia woods. They trekked south to the Pentagon. Darkness remained their friend as the two slipped over a road covered in derelict cars. The smoky air watered Patricia’s nose as her adrenaline fended off the cold.
“I’ve never been on a mission like this, Jason.”
“Just follow me and stay low.”
“I’ve never killed anyone either,” she said.
“Our mission is to get in so you can do what you do, Patricia.”
“And the killing?”
“That’s part of the job,” Jason said. “They will try and kill you, so try not to take it too personal. Ok.”
Patricia nodded. Although she trailed behind the soldier he didn’t see her nod in agreement.
Patricia inhaled the air, frowning at the unsavory scent. The balaclava made her skin itch. Her back ached from the heavy packs she carried just a few hours ago. She kept low and did her best to mimic Jason who moved fast like a cat. His footfalls silent as he eased like smoke through the jammed up cars.
She kept pace with him, her weapon held like he told her, at a low angle with the muzzle pointed away from his back, yet positioned so she would not strike any metal objects to give away their position.
The Pentagon sat less than a mile away from them. No lights shone on the streets. Scattered gunshots peppered the air, a few random explosions rose into the gloom along with screams. Besides the distant firefights no other noise reached their ears.
Patricia followed close but not too close. The darkness spooked her, the shadows made her want to move faster but she forced herself to stay calm and not breakout into a full run. The area didn’t suffer the wood’s haunting blackness, but held a black-light glow, dark enough to see by. Jason stopped and knelt, she went to one knee, her eyes wide from underneath the black mask.
“What is it, Jason?”
“Shhh,” he said and lifted his chin. “There, two men.”
Patricia swallowed and her mouth dried. Jason pulled down his night vision goggle. She did the same and clicked it on with a thumb. The world turned an electronic green before her. She spotted two armed figures almost five feet to their front and wondered how Jason knew the men stood so close to them.
She remained still. Jason lifted his rifle. The weapon’s internals made a noise as if two old men spat tobacco juice onto a wooden floor. The two figures crumpled to the ground. Her head swooned and she took several silent breaths to clear it. Jason moved on again and she followed, pass the dead bodies, cars, and other obstacles until they neared a chain linked fence with a jagged hole ripped in its side.
The Pentagon sat to their front. Its once white exterior blemished from scorched smoke and bullet holes. A dead silence hung about the building once a home to America’s military tacticians.
Jason stopped. “There are no lights. I don’t see anyone moving around. Do you?”
Patricia sensed oddness when a professional like Jason asked her opinion on a mission like this. She turned her head left and right and studied the Pentagon entrance. Nothing moved. “I don’t see anything.”
Jason lifted his rifle. “Let’s go, stay close.”
Patricia followed him through the Pentagon battered fence. Dead bodies littered the ground, the foul stench twisting her stomach. They moved ahead, fast but not too fast. The two stopped near the Pentagon entrance.
“Do you know this place?”
Patricia paused next to him. “I know it very well.”
“Then you’re going to have to go through that door first,” Jason said. “I don’t want to dump us into a dead end.”
Patricia gazed into the electric green darkness, the shadows inside seemed to jump and squirm. She blinked her eyes to clear them. Her heart already thrummed in her chest yet it kicked in even higher once he suggested her to lead.
“Breathe,” he said. “Act like you’re piloting a Blackhawk.”
Patricia slowed her breath, lifted her weapon. If she sat any longer she might change her mind and not go in. “I’m up and moving,” she said and entered the silent front door.
They passed an abandoned security kiosk and headed down the hallway. A few dead bodies, twisted in various death poses scattered the floor, broken glass shimmered like stars along the linoleum. The horrid stench from corpses made her eyes tear, yet she pushed ahead. Her foot falls came with a gentle crunch from the crushed glass at her feet.
Patricia licked her dry lips. The night vision goggles forced her to turn her head left and right as she walked down the hallway. She remembered the Pentagon layout and turned a corner and moved ahead twenty feet. A low hum worked its way up from a dark hall to her right.
She stopped and squatted. “There,” she said. “The main computer room is down there, Jason.”
Jason moved behind her. “Ok, let’s go.”
Patricia swallowed. “But, what is that?”
Jason eased around her. “What the hell are they doing here?”
She caught the hoarseness in his throat. “What are they?”
“You’re going to have to advance. I’ll drop them, don’t stop.”
Patricia gazed at the door perched at the hall’s end. Six dark figures blocked her way and blocked the entrance into the main computer room, a few low voices came from another room, harsh laughter echoed up the hall.
“Go, Patricia. Go,” he urged her and gave a gentle shove against her back. “Now.”
Patricia moved ahead. Lifted her weapon with her finger around the trigger and squeezed. The first thing’s head exploded, the other five turned to face her. They wore ancient Chinese armor, and started unsheathing swords, their faces a ghost white and cracked like old pottery. She gazed into their black eyes. From behind her Jason’s weapon went to work. The Chinese Ghost Soldiers heads popped like water balloons. Blood and filth splattered her uniform yet she kept going until she reached the door and jerked on the handle.
It didn’t turn.
She lowered her weapon, willing her hands to stop shaking. She entered an old passcode on a keypad next to the door, the internal lock clicked. By the time she turned the handle and opened it Jason stood next to her. They both moved into the computer room and she closed the door behind her.
Patricia leaned against the wall, swallowing a few breaths. “What were those things, Jason?”
“Chinese Ghost Soldiers. You’re doing good, Patricia. Now getup. I don’t want to stay here any longer then we have to.” He grabbed her by the arm.
Patricia winced from his strong grip as he hauled her up. She needed to find the main server and swept her eyes around the dim room. A few computer screens glowed. She moved passed workstations. To her surprise the computer room remained clean, smelling like lemons.
She entered a main office with Jason and closed the door behind them. “Turn on the lights, Jason. This office has no windows.”
/>
“Turn off your night vision first,” he said and waited a second to give her time to turn the goggles off before he switched on the lights.
Patricia turned off her goggles and Jason flipped the light switch. The room glowed with brilliant lights, hurting her eyes. A body with a hole in its head and a gun in its dead hand sat behind a control panel. Jason rolled the corpse aside.
“Didn’t this place suffer an EMP blast?”
“Yes, but this area is protected,” Patricia said and worked her fingers over a computer keyboard. She gazed at the screen as numbers and letters played across it. She pulled out a tiny book and flipped through the pages, read a line and typed in the code.
“So what does this virus actually do?”
“It will shut down the computers connected to the system. The nukes are connected to it also. This is the master server.”
Jason chuckled, an odd sound from such a big man. “I thought they only did that in movies.”
“Well, Uncle Sam stole a few ideas from the movies,” she said while speeding her fingers over the keys. “There.” Patricia struck the enter button. “It’s uploading.”
Jason walked over to the door and checked his weapon. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”
Patricia smiled, the screen turned red. “Done,” she said.
“Let’s go.” Jason lowered his night vision goggles over his eyes and turned off the light.
Patricia packed away her tiny book and headed for the office door. Jason swung the door open as she pulled down her night vision goggles and turned them on. The office glowed an electric green.
Jason crossed the main office floor with Patricia close behind him. He cracked open the door and peered out into the hall. “Shit.”
Patricia’s stomach knotted. “What now?” She swept her eyes around the office.
“Soldiers,” he said and closed the door.
“There’s no other way out, Jason,” she said. The closed door started to buckle and shake as if several people kicked on it and slammed their bodies against the metal from the other side. “We can’t stay in here all day.”
“I know that.”
“Open the door. Open it. We know you’re in there.” A voice shouted through the door. The door jolted again. “We’re giving you three seconds.”
Patricia stood next to Jason, a dull ache pulsed behind her eyes. A thin metal ting filtered through the door as if someone dropped a spoon on the floor followed by heavy noise like a ridged cue ball rolling over a hard surface. “What’s that noise?”
“Grenade!” Jason shoved Patricia away from the door. He turned and sprinted towards several workstations.
Patricia fell to the floor, scrambled up to her feet. A blast rocked the room. The concussion lifted her into the air and slammed her into a few stacked desks behind her. She landed hard onto the floor. Wet warmth soaked her pants at the crotch. She bit her tongue, bright sparkles danced before her eyes. Patricia’s ears ached, acrid smoke and cordite filled her nose and burned her lungs.
She lifted her rifle and fought her way up from the desks. Bodies rushed through the front door, gunfire popped, shouts lifted. She pointed her weapon and squeezed the trigger. More screams hit the air. Another blast erupted. A flash played across her night vision goggles, blinding her.
Patricia turned away from the light and ripped the goggles from her eyes. Her un-enhanced eyesight revealed an office thick with smoke, several small fires sputtered throughout the haze and no one moved.
“Jason,” she said.
“I’m here.”
Patricia followed the voice. A nasty tautness seized the hollow space beneath her sternum and above her stomach. She stepped over bodies and into bloody pools to find Jason propped up against an overturned desk. He pulled his balaclava from his face and wiped blood from his mouth with it.
She leaned over and looked in his eyes, they crinkled in pain. He threw a heavy arm over her shoulder and she helped him to his feet. “We gotta go now.”
Jason’s head lolled. “I’ll slow you down, Patricia,” he said. “Leave.”
“You’re still breathing.” Patricia dragged his heavy weight across the room, her thigh muscles burned and the sharp smoke didn’t help. Her eyes watered both from the smoke and emotions. “Help me, Jason.”
Jason pushed up on his legs and limped towards the door. He sank to his knees out in the hall. “No.”
Patricia knelt next to him. Several voices filtered into the building from outside. “Jason,” she said. “Tell me how to help you.”
Jason smiled, displaying blood smeared teeth. He reached down and removed his pistol. “Stay alive,” he said. “I’ll distract them and you run. I’m not afraid to die.”
Patricia placed a hand against his face. “I’ll remember you, Jason.” She stood and saluted the 5th Special Forces soldier and he saluted back the best he could.
She turned and ran up the hall and around a corner. She knew about other doors within the massive building. She prayed Joan would not be angry with her as she escaped down a hall and out into the cold night.
Jason held his handgun tight against his chest. Pain erupted in his liver as if a clawed hand tore the organ into shreds. His breaths came in heavy gulps. Smoky air tainted with cordite clogged his throat. A bullet caught him in his side. He wanted to give Patricia time to escape.
“Hey,” he called from the hall. He pressed his back against the wall, pain flashed and each white flare drew him closer to a blackness he wanted to delay long enough to keep them off Patricia. Death no longer bothered him. The great mystery beyond eyes closed for eternity became apparent when he went to Hell. The opposite must have been beyond beautiful.
The first heads rounded the corner, all hooded, red eyes ripe with anger focused on the downed soldier. He lifted the gun and fired, a head snapped back, the body slid to the floor. The return fire exploded in his chest like hot fragmented glass. Brief pain flared in his lungs and flashed out just as quick. His eyes closed and for the brief harshness he suffered, a greater peace suffused his soul.
30
Joan waited next to General Black in a second tent erected by the Guardians. The troops called it the command tent, a place scattered with tables, a large map and a few computers still able to work. Outside the tent the Guardian soldiers continued to bring in the wounded from the Houston blast. Joan stared at a computer screen along with General Black who kept a vigil for Patricia Jones and Jason Aries.
“Something went wrong,” Black said while gazing at the blank screen. “It’s been almost five hours, the sun is about to rise.” The computer beeped and the general turned on the two-way video camera.
Joan felt slight relief once Patricia’s face appeared on screen. “Where’s Jason, Patricia?”
Patricia Jones gazed up at a space beyond the video camera, tears spilled from her eyes. She shook her head. “He didn’t…he didn’t make it, Joan.”
Joan swallowed and lowered her head. “Okay.”
“But we completed the mission. The nukes are off line.”
Black released a breath. “Hang tight, Patricia. Where are you?”
“I’m at the safe house.”
“Do you have enough food and weapons?”
“I’m set,” she said. “Joan, I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Patricia.” She fought back the tears. “Jason was a soldier. He did his duty and you did yours.” She walked away from the computer as Black continued to talk with the distraught woman.
The archangel swept her eyes up to the black skies. They began to lighten but held their dreaded grayness. She moved through the crowd and spotted Maria crouched near a wounded child.
“Maria,” she said.
Maria stood from the cot and approached Joan. “There you are. Have you seen Jason?” She hooked her thumbs into her jean pockets. “I saw him at the medical tent hours ago, after that nothing.”
“Follow me,” Joan said and walked a distance from the crowd w
ith Maria close at her side.
“What happened, Joan?”
Joan stopped near a small hill. “Jason is dead.”
Maria blinked. Her head canted to the side. “How can he be dead? He can’t die from the radiation, they’re protected by the armor.”
“I sent him on a mission, Maria.”
“No, Joan. Why?” Maria took a few steps away from Joan. “Why, Joan? Where did you send him?”
Joan swallowed, her muscles tightened and she forced herself not to cry. “Patricia had to render the nukes inoperable. I sent Jason in to help her at the Pentagon.”
Maria placed her hands to her face, over her head. She dug her fingers into her hair. “Why?” She fell to her knees and beat the ground until dirt billowed up into a thick cloud. “Why, Joan?”
Tears spilled from her eyes, smearing the dust caked to her face. “Do you hate us that much, do you hate being you that much that you have to ruin everyone else’s lives?”
A sharp scream rose from her throat, she placed her head against the desert sand and dug her nails into the harsh earth until her fingernails cracked. Her heavy sobs shook her shoulders. A deep moan dragged out from her throat.
Daisy Lane and Tobias ran over to the two angels. General Black stepped from the command tent.
Joan approached Maria and knelt next to her, she reached out and touched Maria’s arm. “Maria.”
Maria sat up and with a slow swipe moved Joan’s hand away from her. “Please don’t touch me, Joan,” she said. Tears continued to spill down her grimy face, her once neat hair became tangled and filled with dirt, twigs, and sticky burrs. “Please,” she said.
Daisy walked over. “What’s going on?”
Joan gazed up at the angel. “Jason died,” she said. “I sent him on a mission with Patricia Jones to disarm the nukes and he died.”
Daisy Lane frowned. “You could have sent one of us to do that, Joan.”
Joan gazed off at the lethargic Rio Grande. “If one of us would have showed up, Daisy, Brown would have launched off another nuke before we had the chance to shut the entire system down.”
Angels of War Battle of Archangels (Book 3) (Angels of War Trilogy) Page 11
