Swords of Exodus

by Larry Correia

  “Here’s what we do.” Anders had, by far, the most actual combat experience. I’d spent my career avoiding straight-up fights. He signaled toward Shen. “I want you to flank right. We’ll cover—” He was cut off by a sudden thunderous chain of explosions. The sky back toward the silo was suddenly bright as yellow flashes reflected off all of the compounds’ walls and buildings. Ibrahim had breached the elevator shaft.

  Anders’ plan went out the window then. The remaining slave soldiers all began screaming. They rose up from behind their positions of cover, and began to run wildly toward the silo, which meant they had to go right through the five of us. It was like the Exodus banzai charge earlier, only it made even less sense.

  I opened fire, pumping round after round into the charging fanatics. Red dot moving to one, tap tap, then on to the next, repeat. One of them tumbled face down into the snow as my rounds pierced his chest. He continued to claw his way forward for a few more seconds. I watched him in disbelief as I reloaded, but he wouldn’t give up until his pulped heart could finally pump no more.

  Then it was over. The remaining soldiers were all dead, splayed about in the street, blood slowly staining the snow into pink slush, steam rising from their torn open corpses.

  “What was that?” Anders asked in disbelief.

  “They were trying to get to Jihan . . . it’s like they went crazy,” I replied.

  “But . . . but . . . they’re slaves. Why would they do something like that?” Phillips asked. He was sincerely shaken. Shen shook his head. The quiet man had no answers either.

  What kind of man was Sala Jihan, that he could inspire such psychotic loyalty in people that he had kidnapped from their own homes?

  “Screw it. Let’s get my brother.”

  VALENTINE

  The Dam

  Ling, Skunky, and I stood at the breach, staring down into the darkness. Another line of vehicles was slowly headed up the road toward us. They would be on top of us in minutes. Our only hope now was to spread out and scatter, try to escape on foot through the snow. There was no hope for the wounded who couldn’t walk, like the German whose leg I’d put a tourniquet on.

  Ling watched in silence. I could see something I’d never seen in her eyes before: fear. It was all over Skunky’s face as well. And if I was being honest with myself, deep down, hidden beneath the Calm, I felt it too. I took the fact that after surviving so much, I was probably going to die in this place, to be a grave injustice. My mind raced for a way out, for some other option besides death and something worse than death, and I was drawing a blank. Ling didn’t say anything. She just watched our approaching doom and shook her head slightly. Behind us, the rest of the surviving Exodus personnel were gathering at the burning remains of the roadblock. They were all watching her, waiting for orders, waiting for something.

  “Jeff,” I said, looking at my old friend. “Go back there and make sure the wounded are still being treated. Get everyone together and start figuring out a way to drag the wounded that can’t walk across the snow. We don’t have a lot of options right now and we have no time. Make litters or something.”

  “But what about . . .”

  I cut him off. “Just do it. I’ll take care of her. Go!” He nodded his head and ran off to do as I asked. Ling and I were alone. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “Your people need you right now. They need their commander. They’re counting on you.”

  “I have already failed them,” she said. “Don’t you understand? We’re all going to die here.”

  I agreed. “Seems that way. But that doesn’t give you the right to just quit on them when they’ve fought so hard for you. It’s not over until the last one of us is dead. You owe it to them to keep fighting until the last. They’ve earned that.”

  Ling looked down at the ground for a moment, her face resuming its usual mask. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” She looked up into my eyes. “You are a remarkable individual, Mr. Valentine.”

  “If you say so. No offense, but I just want to go home.”

  She actually laughed. “As do I. Come, please help me carry the wounded. We don’t—” She fell silent as her radio crackled to life.

  It was Ibrahim. “Stand by to breach. Fire in the hole, fire in the hole, fire in the hole.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “He must be breaching the missile silo. Michael, look,” Ling said, pointing back down the hill. “They’ve stopped.” Sure enough, the enemy column that had been slowly advancing up the hillside had stopped in place.

  “What the hell are they doing?” It didn’t take long for me to get my answer. In the most haphazard and erratic fashion imaginable, the enemy column tried to turn around on the narrow road. It was almost comical. Vehicles crashed into each other. The shouts of Jihan’s men were carried on the wind to our position. They reversed as fast as they could, seemingly in a panic.

  “Holy shit. Is it because of Jihan? Are they going back because they’re going after him? Did the fortress call in reinforcements?”

  “He’s calling to them,” Ling said. She spoke into her radio then. “Sword One, this is Sword Three. The enemy from our position is apparently en route to your position. Prepare yourselves for enemy reinforcements.”

  There was a long delay before Ibrahim answered. “This is Sword One Actual. Understood. Can you delay them?”

  “Negative, Sword One. We have taken heavy losses. We were about to be overrun when they retreated. Our entire egress plan is going to have to be revised on the fly.”

  “Understood,” Ibrahim repeated. “Godspeed, my lady. We are about to enter the abyss.”

  “God speed to you as well,” Ling said solemnly. “Shine a light into the darkness.”

  I was confused. “What’s going on? What’s he doing?”

  “He’s preparing to take his team down into the silo after Sala Jihan,” Ling answered, sounding distant.

  “It’s just a single missile silo, right? It shouldn’t take them long to find him.”

  “There are many places to hide down in that dark hole.” Ling paused for a second. “Sala Jihan has proven difficult to kill in the past.” Before I could ask her what in the hell that meant, she switched channels and spoke into her radio again.

  “Sword Three Actual! This is Sword Three X-Ray! Come in!”

  Katsumoto took a moment before responding. “This is Sword Three Actual. Are you clear of the dam?”

  “Negative! Stand by, we’re coming to get you! The enemy has retreated. We have time to gather the wounded and commandeer vehicles. No one else has to die here!”

  There was a long silence. “I hope you don’t think less of me if I admit to being relieved,” Katsumoto said wryly.

  Ling laughed as her eyes teared up a little. “It can be our secret. Please hold on. We’re on our way.”

  LORENZO

  Sala Jihan’s Fortress

  The steel door to the prison was open. The walls were still painted that sick pea-green that the Russian military painted everything. Starkly naked lightbulbs burned and flickered on the walls. Water dripped from exposed steam pipes. I rushed through first, my muzzle sweeping back and forth, the three Exodus operatives followed me, and Anders brought up the rear.

  “Chief, you should turn back to the command channel. Ibrahim and his guys are roping down the elevator shaft,” Reaper informed me. “Oh, man, they’re jumping down. The Pale Man is pwned! Go get that creepy motherfucker!”

  I clicked my radio over. The men behind me did as well. It all came down to this. Even though my mission was to find Bob, what happened in the next few minutes would determine all of our fates. The first floor of the prison was empty. We moved from cell to cell, but the doors were unlocked and nobody was inside any of them.

  One of the functionaries was hiding behind some crates. I recognized him from the business meeting with Jill. He was barefoot and wearing flannel pajamas, probably chased out of h
is nice bunker by Exodus. He started pleading for his life as soon he saw us, but Anders shot him in the heart.

  At the end of the floor was a flight of industrial steel steps. We headed up.

  The second floor was dark. I turned my Surefire light on and shined it down the hallway. There was a single door made of iron bars that was currently hanging open, a chain and open padlock dangling from it. I stepped through. My light illuminated a long corridor of heavy cell doors. It was musty and claustrophobic.

  We all heard Ibrahim’s voice come over the radio. “We’re heading down. Be wary.”

  “Bob!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs. “Bob Lorenzo!” There was no response except for the echo.

  Something moved at the end of the corridor. I lifted my gun. A skinny, shirtless man leapt out of the darkness. He had a Nagant revolver in one bony hand. He screamed at us, his lips spread wide over toothless gums. He started to raise the pistol. I fired a single shot, splattering his brains all over the wall.

  The rest of my team turned on their flashlights and started checking rooms. Shen spoke softly. “Lorenzo, it doesn’t look good.”

  I glanced over Shen’s shoulder. Inside the first cell was a body. It was a younger Mongol man, but he had a single bullet wound to his head, his body still backed into the corner. The next cell was the same, with another recently murdered prisoner. The man that I had just shot had been systematically executing them rather than letting them be freed.

  “We’re at the bottom. There is extensive damage from the explosives.” I could almost imagine the sounds of his team’s ropes rebounding against the wall and the clacking of their weapons. “Fan out. Wait . . . The blast doors are already open. We won’t need to cut through.”

  Someone in the background of Ibrahim’s radio said something that sounded like what luck.

  “No. He is waiting for us . . .”

  I moved quickly from cell to cell, just long enough to shine my flashlight inside each one. More dead bodies. None of them were Bob. With a great deal of hesitation, I approached the final cell. My light flooded the little room through the bars. There was a large body face down in a pile of dirty straw in the back of the cell.

  Ibrahim had left his radio on transmit, as every member of Exodus was eager to hear what happened next. “Rasheed, cover our exit. We are heading into the center. The launch pad is clear. No sign of life. He’s here somewhere. Carmen, check over there . . . Wait . . . What was that?”

  My boot impacted the cell door. I smashed it as hard as I could, over and over, the impacts traveling up through the bones of my feet. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it. Bob!” The lock was too heavy. Shen materialized at my side, having lifted a large ring of keys from the dead jailer. He started trying keys. Oh, God, my brother is dead. “Bob! Bob!”

  The ancient lock clicked open with an audible snap. I shoved it open and tore toward the body.

  Ibrahim’s radio was sending the sound of nervous, heavy breathing, in the distance someone else on his team says something that sounded like there’s something in the water.

  I grabbed the arm of the dead man and pulled him over. He was a huge, bald Caucasian. The Exodus operatives raised their lights to help me see. I stared into the dead man’s face.

  The radio transmitted the sound of splashing, then gunfire.

  I stared into the dead man’s face. Involuntary tears started to roll down my cheeks.

  “Show yourself, demon!” Ibrahim bellowed.

  It wasn’t Bob. It was somebody else.

  The radio was a cacophony of chaos. The noise from the silo was indescribable. Something had gone horribly wrong.

  I sprang to my feet. “Let’s go.” I ordered. The three Exodus operatives were standing there, speechless as they listened to their command channel.

  There was a sliding, metallic crashing noise from the end of the hall. Somebody had just slammed the main gate. I shined my light down the hallway. Anders stood on the other side of the now locked gate. “So long, Lorenzo.”

  “Anders!” I raised my rifle, but he moved swiftly around the corner. The muzzle of his AK appeared around the wall as he triggered a burst. I narrowly dodged back into the cell as bullets skipped around me.

  “It’s nothing personal. We just needed your help, and now we don’t.”

  “You son of a bitch!” I shouted, ignoring the screaming and shooting in my earpiece. It sounded like Ibrahim’s team was getting torn apart.

  “We needed a way to take Jihan down. Then you showed up. We were afraid something like this would happen, but it was worth a shot.”

  There was enough space between the walls and the cell doors that a thin man could squeeze in there and have cover. I leapt across the hall and slammed myself into the next doorway.

  “You see, it’s not just about control of The Crossroads. Sure, that’s a plus,” Anders explained patiently. He must have realized that I was trying to get closer as he fired a few more rounds down the hallway to pin me down. “But it is bigger than that, way bigger. You have no idea what Project Blue is.”

  “Why don’t you tell me before I kill you, then?”

  Anders laughed, that traitorous bastard. “Sala Jihan knew about my part in Blue. Hell, I couldn’t have done it without him. He had to go. The Pale Man’s a loose end. See, when I figured Majestic fucked me, I decided to fuck them right back. Majestic didn’t have the balls to complete Project Blue, but I do.”

  I jumped across to the next door. I could hear one of the Exodus operatives doing the same behind me. Anders fired another shot, but was answered by a pair of suppressed shots in response that sparked off the bars.

  “Seeing your brother here was a surprise. I hadn’t seen Bob since he helped get me thrown out of the FBI, that self-righteous asshole. He had finally figured it all out, put all his paranoid conspiracy theories to work, and actually ended up with the truth. That’s why I had to grab him.”

  Jihan never had Bob.

  “Oh, just figuring it out now? Yeah. Sucks, don’t it? Hell, Bob was locked in the basement of the Exchange while you were there. I’ll tell you though, you showing up helped us. It enabled me to get Exodus to do our dirty work for us. That slave we killed back in town? I contacted him beforehand, told him that if he told you a story, I’d sneak him out of the country. We were afraid that the stories about Jihan were true. Personally, I thought they were bullshit, but I’ve seen stranger stuff. I mean, seriously, Majestic agents get to do some freaky shit, but we needed muscle, and that’s where Exodus came in.”

  “Did you kill my brother?”

  “Not yet. He’s my Lee Harvey Oswald. When he dies, it’ll be on the world news. Not that you’ll be around to see it, because it looks like Jihan is going to fuckin’ kill all of you. Too bad I couldn’t tie up that loose end, but I’ve got another contingency plan in place for him. Kat loses The Crossroads entirely, but Blue is going to get us something a whole lot better.”

  I moved again. One more.

  “And speaking of loose ends, your hot little woman and your dipshit sidekick? Yeah, Diego’s going to take care of them. We triangulated the radio signals they need to drive your little toy airplane. They’ll be dead soon too, just like you.”

  I took a deep breath and jumped for the next doorway, but there were no more gunshots. I was close enough now that I could get a grenade through the bars and not just bounce it down the hallway back into us. I chucked it through the iron. The explosion came a moment later. It shook dust from the ceiling.

  Sprinting the rest of the way, I slammed into the bars, shoving my muzzle through, but Anders was already gone down the stairs.

  “Everybody okay?” I shouted. I got three quick yes answers.

  The padlock was huge, and shooting it would’ve just hit us with lots of ricochets. “Breach it,” I ordered. Phillips moved up, pulling a block of explosive out of a pouch on his vest.

  Ibrahim was on the radio again, except I was having a hard time understanding him. His breath was co
ming in ragged gasps. He was talking, in short, clipped sentences, apparently in Kurdish, obviously in a great deal of pain. He was tying up the command channel, whispering a prayer. I heard him commend his soul to Allah. There were a few more gun shots, then a loud crack.

  A moment later, I could hear something else on the radio, a crunching noise, like bones being snapped. Finally another voice came on. I recognized it, and could picture the pale white flesh and solid black eyes. He had warned me not to come back here.

  “Trespassers . . . ” Sala Jihan muttered. Then the radio went dead.

  “Jill. Reaper. Come in.”

  No answer.

  “If you can hear me. Get the hell out of there now. Diego’s coming to kill you.” I flipped back to the command line as I ran through the snow.

  “Sword Two, on me. Move up on the pit,” Fajkus ordered over the radio. There was a huge volume of gunfire coming from that direction now. My team was sprinting through the compound, heading toward the choppers. “What the hell is going on down there? Somebody answer me!”

  “Fajkus! Come in. This is Lorenzo. Anders is a traitor. Watch out.” I panted as I ran. I got no response. It was no surprise. The radio net was in complete disarray. Something very bad was happening at the missile silo.

  “Oh God who art in heaven,” somebody gasped. “Hallowed be thy name . . .”

  “Get off the fucking radio!” Fajkus ordered. “Somebody give me a sitrep.”

  Then there was screaming. The praying stopped with a series of tearing noises, and that signal died.

  “Fajkus. This is Nagano. Retreat. They’re all dead. We’ve got to—Aarrgghh—” then that one was gone too.

  I flipped back. “Jill! Reaper!” I tripped and sprawled face first into the slush. Rolling over, and bounding back to my feet, I had tripped over the body of an Exodus operative. It was dark, but it was obvious that he had died horribly, his chest torn open, white ribs sticking out.