by Bruno Flexer
Tom reviewed again everything he had, everything he had recorded, ignoring the explosions and the firefights raging outside the building. He concentrated on his rage, on his need to know where the hell the enemy was.
The buildings in the Financial District did not emit any kind of infrared, radio or any other kind of emission that might indicate the enemy might be there. Tom went over the traffic records he had made. He searched for patterns in the movements of the buses, trucks or cargo, or the motorcycles.
"Five trucks burning. Unable to penetrate smoke cover. There could be stragglers."
"Roger."
Nothing. He found nothing. Again.
Captain Emerson turned from the street. “Contact. Troopers inside the concourse.” Tom turned and saw soldiers running towards them, entering the concourse many openings and from the lower-level ramps. Captain Emerson fired his rifle calmly and methodically, exchanging magazines every few seconds. Sounds of rapid-fire automatic rifles were heard for only a few moments before being silenced by the huge Barrett rifle. The sound of the big twelve-millimeter spent cartridges hitting the floor never stopped.
A tongue of fire and a long streak of white smoke ended in an explosion near Sergeant Jebadiah. One of the soldiers had fired an anti-tank missile, but Captain Emerson just stood his ground and kept firing, ignoring a second and then a third missile fired inside the concourse.
Ninety seconds later, Captain Emerson turned to the window and continued firing outside. Tom could see at the bodies of at least two dozen soldiers scattered on the cratered and smoking concourse floor.
"Enemy trucks heading for the entrance. Prepare for assault."
"They're mine!" Ramirez dropped down from his perch and ran, bent almost double, to the main concourse entrance. There, he leapt up and held onto the arched top of the great entrance, hidden from outside.
Ramirez did not have long to wait. A moment later, more than a hundred soldiers streamed in, armed with United States military-issue M16 assault rifles and LAW shoulder-held missiles. They moved in a perfect spread, covering all the angles, alert and with their fingers on the triggers. The faces behind the goggles and helmets were expressionless.
They did not have a chance.
Ramirez dropped down right into their midst and moved like a black tidal wave, an unstoppable harbinger of death whose matt, armored talons dripped with its victims blood. The soldiers died without a cry. Those that could stood their ground and fired at point-blank range with everything they had, from rifles, to grenades, to short-range anti-tank missiles, but nothing could stop Ramirez once he started killing, his stiffened antennas vibrating so fast they seemed to almost sing.
Finally, the black streak stood up to its full ten-foot-height and shook his long talons once. Red, bloody remains rain down onto a floor that already ran red with blood. Then, with barely a pause, Ramirez’s Serpent leapt away and returned to its previous position, firing at the enemy forces outside. The whole thing took less than a minute.
Tom glanced at the human remains and then returned to his work, not before wondering why soldiers were not coming up the ramps from the subway and train tracks.
Then Tom's fingers froze on his computer's display.
Unless they couldn’t. What did the briefing say? That the subways were unused. But the soldiers could have used them to enter the terminal. Unless the subway tunnels were blocked. But why would the enemy block unused subway tunnels? Maybe because the enemy wanted to hide something? Or maybe because the enemy was in there?
Tom got up and started pacing the concourse, ignoring falling bricks, tiles, plaster and the occasional explosion rising up above the din of the firefight. The enemy might be hidden there, in the subway. And the enemy might not otherwise use the subway for any other purpose, so no one would think to look there.
Suddenly, all the arched and windowed entrances shattered in uncanny unison as, one after another, Hummer light-armored vehicles broke into the concourse, firing from the machine guns mounted on their roofs, 12.7-millimeter bullets washing over all the Serpents.
While Tom dove for cover, pummeled repeatedly by the heavy bullets, the three other Serpents turned and started firing at the Hummers. Actually, the Serpents' Barrett rifles used the same type of 12.7-millimeter ammo, but the Hummers were lightly armored, in sharp contrast to the Serpents' composite armor, the toughest armor modern military science could produce.
The Serpents swayed from time to time, and the enemy's bullets left ugly streaks of soot on the armor, sometimes even creating small chinks in the Serpent's black, matt outer skin, but the Serpents were generally immune to the machine-gun fire.
However, the Hummers were not immune to the Serpents' fire. The heavy bullets smashed into the Hummers, first finding and destroying the engines, then silencing their machine guns, and finally Ramirez descended with glee onto the floor, running from Hummer to Hummer with talons extended, and shredding metal, plastic and flesh with the same ease and the same relish.
Tom sat behind an unused dust-covered booth and tried to ignore the shots and the explosions and the fire-filled concourse and think. So the enemy was inside the subway system and not the buildings. Great. How to find it?
Tom tapped a long talon on a section of the booth, slowly creating a dent in the plastic. Power! They thought the enemy needed power so he only had to find the place where the power drainage was the greatest.
Tom rapidly tapped his computer display screen and brought up the recordings he had made in the Manhattan power control center, among them the recordings of the subway system’s power-consumption values. Tom replayed those images of the graphs and his fist smashed into the marble floor, creating cracks that ran in a ten-foot radius. The subway system was at present drawing the same amount of power that it had drawn before the enemy came!
Wait a minute! There are no running subway cars now, so who's draining all the power? Tom started to feel his anger ebbing away. The subway system drew in 1.8 kilowatt-hours annually, enough to light up a large city for a year. And the enemy consumed all of this? Wait! Tom went through the graphs he had recorded and found one that showed him the consumption rates of individual subway stations.
Tom would have smiled had he been able to. Three years ago, all the subway stations drew equal amounts of power. After the enemy came, all the stations gradually started drawing less and less power until they finally reached, about two years ago, a state of minimal consumption barely enough to operate station and tunnel lighting, ventilation and other line equipment. Now, eighty-five percent of the power was drained by one station.
Wall Street Subway Station.
Tom had found the enemy!
A pillar, along with a whole section of the wall around Ramirez, disintegrated in a great puff of fire and black smoke. Gray dust billowed. Ramirez leapt away, clearing the fires in an instant. The northern concourse wall now had a huge hole in it, a hole filled with fire and curling smoke. A moment later, another flash of fire hit, this time on the western side of the concourse, creating another huge hole.
“Sir, I have it!” Tom sent while getting back up to his feet. “The enemy is at Wall Street Subway Station!”
“Is this confirmed?”
Tom paused. “Sir, that’s the best guess I can come up with now, but the evidence leads to that direction.”
“Pencil pushers always guess, never guarantee,” Ramirez sent, but Tom only looked at the captain.
"Are there enemy positions around the station guarding it?"
"No, Sir. The enemy is probably wary of our satellite reconnaissance. If it concentrates forces in the area, we would know it and would figure out why. But it would surely send reinforcements to the area as soon as it figures out we know its location."
Captain Emerson stared at Tom for a moment and they locked gazes, two immobile black monsters standing in the midst of the mayhem raging around them. Ramirez was firing away from his Barrett, and Sergeant Jebadiah, moving as best he could from position to
position, and supporting himself on the wall, was firing out, holding his rifle with his one good hand.
“I have HQ approval. We’re moving out through the streets. Follow me.”
“Captain Emerson, permission to hold position and occupy the enemy’s attention.”
“Approved.”
“What?” Tom sent.
"Sergeant Jebadiah can't move with us in his condition. He'll hold position and create a distraction."
“Sir, I won’t be able to move fast enough, but I’ll stay here and give them hell. By the time they figure out you’re gone it will be too late.”
“What? Come on Jebadiah, I’ll help you.”
“You can’t, Sir. I’ll only slow you down. The only thing that matters is killing the enemy.”
“But—“
"Sir, did you really mean that thing you said about freedom?"
Tom paused. "Yes."
"Then go fight for it, Sir."
Captain Emerson leapt up and his claws dug in into the elaborately decorated ceiling, his talons ruining the stars and constellations painstakingly drawn there. The Serpent pulled his hands apart and a large section of the ceiling just fell down in a cascade of bricks, mortar and dust.
"Serpents, move!"
Ramirez leapt up, and then Tom followed, holding onto the ledge for a moment and looking down the concourse. Huge boxy shapes were moving through the smoke and dust, and squeals from the tracks almost drowned out the noises of the firing. A bright flash streaked through the concourse and culminated in a huge explosion.
Down below Tom, Sergeant Jebadiah put away his Hellfire missile bin and grabbed his Barrett rifle again. He crawled slowly to another position, stopping here and there to fire his rifle.
"My brother, Bart, always got his answer in the end, too. If you can, say to Mom that I love her and tell my pa he can be proud of me. Tell him I did my duty. I stuck to what I believed in." With that, Sergeant Jebadiah broke radio contact and Tom turned away, exiting the Grand Central Terminal after Ramirez and Captain Emerson.
Tom did not know if he imagined it or if he really heard metallic shrieking from below him within the concourse: the shrieking of composite black armor being stripped away from the body of a Serpent.
Chapter 22
Day Five, Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York City
Following Ramirez and Captain Emerson, Tom ran south on Park Avenue, moving through the mayhem that the two Serpents were creating in the enemy forces still streaming along the avenue towards Grand Central Terminal.
They moved through tanks, Hummer light vehicles and Bradley armored personnel carriers, using the Serpents' strength and speed to actually jump above vehicles and leap away faster than the enemy-controlled soldiers could react and fire.
Even so, the air was filled with gunshots, the rapid chattering of machine gun fire and the occasional low-pitched booms from larger-caliber cannons that created a thick, black cloud of smoke the Serpents penetrated. The many vehicles suddenly stopped their approach and turned south to follow the Serpents. Even though the enemy-controlled vehicles were almost perfectly synchronized, it till took time for so many vehicles to make a U-turn.
Tom tried hard to follow the other two Serpents' mad dash through Park Avenue, slipping between the military vehicles swamping the wide thoroughfare and filling every lane. Tom knew that every cannon, gun and firearm was swiveling as fast as it could, trying to box in and shoot at the Serpents.
Tom stumbled twice. Once he landed straight on a Hummer and his clawed right foot sank right into the vehicle's engine compartment. He tried to free his foot, but his long claws had sunk into the Hummer's engine, and his foot was trapped inside, making him fall flat on the truck. Tom put his left damaged hand on the vehicle's roof and pushed as hard as he could, freeing his foot, leaping away and making the vehicle tumble away and land on its roof.
Tom glanced ahead. Captain Emerson was nowhere to be seen. Ramirez was already one hundred yards away and moving fast. They won't help me, the thought suddenly materialized in Tom's mind. I gave them the location of the enemy, so now there's no need to help me.
The thought galvanized Tom and he started moving faster, giving it everything he had. The deep rhythmic pulse of his power core shook his Serpent's body and the constant whine of the Serpent's many electric motors became a roar.
I will not be left behind!
Tom ran onwards, trying to evade the heaviest concentrations of enemy vehicles and fire. After about three hundred yards there were less enemy military vehicles on the avenue, though Tom could see more vehicles streaming their way into Manhattan.
The second time Tom stumbled was when an intolerably bright pulse of yellow light flashed behind him. The yellow radiance was so strong that Tom could actually see the long spiked shadow his Serpent cast on the road in front of him being etched into the concrete. The glare of the light kept increasing and its reflections from everything made out of metal were positively blinding.
Tom fell down and curled into a fetal position, awaiting the explosion that was sure to follow. True enough, an instant later a rolling explosion moved across Park Avenue; but it was not as powerful as Tom feared and there were no after effects, nor had the blast wave flattened everything in sight.
Tom got up and looked behind him. Grand Central Terminal was gone. In its place was a crater filled with thick. billowing yellow smoke though there was surprisingly little damage to the buildings around what remained of the terminal.
I will try to make you proud of me, Sergeant Jebadiah.
Tom turned and continued on his way.
The tall buildings on Park Avenue all had their windows open, and people were standing there, staring down at Tom with the same expressionless gazes Tom had come to recognize and dread. The people on the avenue itself acted the same: groups of people stood stock still and did not flinch even as the ten-foot-tall black, spiked monsters ran towards them.
Tom started to gain on Ramirez, mainly because the Marine Corps lieutenant had slowed his run. Ramirez was slicing trees growing along the avenue's sides, making them fall so that they heaped on the road. He knocked down almost every street light that arched over the avenue that he passed, and then Ramirez veered away to run through a scaffolding hugging a building, making numerous metal bars and wooden planks cover the street. He's trying to make following us harder, Tom thought, though the way the Serpent moved showed how much he enjoyed cutting and slicing things.
A truck suddenly broke into the avenue from East 23rd Street and tried to slam into Ramirez, but the Serpent leapt away and immediately leapt back to run parallel to the ten-ton truck. Ramirez sliced through the driver's cabin with one long talon, only needing two sharp movements to dissect the cabin completely before he slowed down slightly, grabbed the lower side of the truck and lifted. The truck veered away, crashing into the sidewalk and overturning on the avenue, blocking two lanes after it had skidded to a stop.
That's what he's doing, Tom thought. He's blocking the road. Tom glanced behind him. A veritable sea of army vehicles was coming from behind them, heading towards them as fast as they could. The number of vehicles seemed endless, all pouring after them, guns and turrets moving in a perfect, synchronized order that was frightening. The immense power of the enemy, amply displayed by the river of military vehicles chasing them, was daunting.
Tom faced forward and tried to pump even more power into his limbs and run even faster. He tried to ascertain if the electric whine coming from his motors was getting any higher, but a moment later he was sure it hadn’t. Tom had reached the ends of his Serpent's power.
Glass windows were breaking all above them, filling the air with shards. There was a constant grating sound as the Serpents ran over the broken glass. Building fronts exploded, scattering bricks and stones all over the roads. Craters suddenly formed in the road, concrete fountains erupting all along the Serpents' paths. The air was with thick with shots from the military vehicles that were following, the explosi
ons slowly and surely approaching the fleeing Serpents. A building took a direct hit and a number of decorative Doric columns fell into the street, rolling away. Flames and fires erupted all over, the result of shell and bullet impacts.
They were now running southward on Broadway. This avenue was narrower, and the buildings along the side of the road were both lower and more decorated.
They’ve put more effort into making sure anyone who visits Broadway knew people had style here, Tom thought stupidly, while two or three cannon shells hit a building and knocked its entire façade down, the seven-story wall falling onto Broadway Avenue and engulfing it in clouds of dust and grimy, soot-filled smoke.
It had little effect on the Serpents. They just ran on, their unleashed speed and agility unbelievable even to Tom.
The Serpents passed a large flower-filled park on their left. The taller buildings of the Financial District started obstructing the skies ahead. There was a church on their right, built out of some sort of dark-red brick, looking short and squat and outdated compared to the office buildings all around. The church had obviously not been used, nor even opened, in three years, and it was the only building Tom could see that had no people inside, staring out at the running Serpents.
The enemy obviously had no use for churches, some part of Tom's analytical mind thought. Yet, there was something in the church that bothered him, and it was not the fact that it looked old, but perhaps that even though the building looked old and outdated compared to the office buildings, it did not care. It was somehow proud of being old and outdated.
We're almost there, Riley. Get your act together.
About five hundred feet before the subway station, Captain Emerson turned back and started firing Hellfire missiles at the pursuing military vehicles. The captain then changed position and ran beneath a glass-covered building that promptly exploded into a million stars of glass that flew into the air, creating a false and deadly starry night.
