And he prayed.
*****
“Got any fives?” asked Robert.
Moe shook his head. “Go fish.”
Robert grimaced and drew another card from the deck, adding it to his hand.
“Got any twos?” asked Moe.
Robert grumbled under his breath as he pulled out the two of spades and flicked it across the workstation to Moe.
“I hate this game,” he muttered.
Suddenly a long string of muffled French cursing spewed forth from behind them. Moe looked over his shoulder at the pair of legs sticking out from the open access hatch on the bottom of the long-dead hologram projector.
“Problems?” asked Moe.
Rene crawled out of the machine and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing it with dust and grime. His hair was held in place with a black bandanna wrapped around his head. In his left hand he held a small, strange-looking piece of alien hardware.
“Can you fix it?” asked Robert.
“No,” said Rene. “These parts were manufactured on Phaedaj, but they’ve been out of production for about ten years give or take. I doubt there’s a junk shop in this corner of the galaxy that would carry one.”
“So much for our lifetime warranty,” said Lamont from his chair where he sat watching Robert and Moe play cards.
“Isn’t there an Earth equivalent?” asked Robert.
Rene shook his head. “I highly doubt it. Besides, I don’t think it would fit anyway. Any piece of Earth tech that does the same thing as this would be the size of an engine block. Sorry, I just don’t think it can be fixed.”
Lamont got up from his chair and began to pace angrily. “Samrai knew exactly what he was doing when he shot that projector.”
Rene nodded and turned the alien component over between his fingers. “I’d say so.”
“Well, that’s that,” said Moe, turning back to his cards. “Got any threes?”
“Damn,” growled Robert, passing Moe another card from his hand.
Suddenly the lights began flashing red and a blaring klaxon filled the room. A few moments later, Quintin and Cherry entered through the door leading to the gym, their shirts and hair drenched with sweat and their hands encased in boxing gloves.
“What’s going on?” yelled Quintin.
Father’s booming voice filled the room. “Alex has activated the personal distress beacon on his wristwatch. I’m afraid the school is under attack.”
“Attack?” asked Moe. “Are you sure? Maybe he just bumped it.”
“I am monitoring the police band,” said Father. “The sheriff’s department and highway patrol are responding to a hostage situation at the school.”
“Hostage?” Cherry shouted.
“Everybody gear up,” ordered Moe. “Grab as many weapons as you can carry.”
“Moe!” called Lamont.
Moe turned and looked at his brother, and the look of grave concern on his face. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to contact Alex telepathically,” said Lamont.
“And? What’s he saying?”
“Nothing,” Lamont replied. “He’s not answering me.”
Moe’s eyes narrowed for a moment in intense concentration, then widened in horror as he came to the same conclusion. “Double time it, people!”
*****
Crystal slipped her hand into Alex’s and fought back the tears stinging her eyes. Ever since the students were first ushered into the gym, Alex had been calmly scanning the room as if looking for someone among the gunmen. He squeezed Crystal’s hand reassuringly and continued his search of the room, not looking at her. Finally the last of the students and teachers were forced into the room and the doors closed, locking the students in with the gun-toting intruders.
A minute later, the doors opened again and a tall Asian man stepped into the room, followed by the bald man who had been giving orders back in the cafeteria. The new arrival had long black hair underneath a horned helmet and sported a long black mustache and neatly trimmed goatee. A cold shudder ran through Crystal’s body when she looked at him. When the tall man entered the room, Alex’s eyes finally stopped moving.
The man stepped to the center of the basketball court, removed his helmet, and in a commanding voice said, “Good morning. I apologize for intruding upon your studies, and I promise to be brief. I am here for one person and one person alone. If you cooperate, you will be released. If you do not —” The soldiers all cocked their rifles in one unified and unnerving motion. “— there will be consequences.”
The crying became louder, and Crystal could hear the occasional whispered prayer around her.
“Bring me the headmaster,” said the man.
Two of the troopers dragged the principal to the center of the floor and forced him to his knees in front of the tall man.
“Good morning, Mister…” The man paused and looked at him pensively before continuing with a queer smile on his lips. “Hoskins.”
“Who are you? What is it that you want?”
“My name is Temujin, Mr. Hoskins. And what I want is the world, but today I’m going to settle for a child. I want you to turn over to me all male children in this room with the first name Alexander.”
Crystal gasped and cried into Alex’s shoulder. Alex continued to stare at Temujin while he ran his fingers through her hair.
Mr. Hoskins shook his head, astounded by Temujin’s request. “I will not!”
Temujin sighed. “I will only ask one last time. Please turn over to me all of the boys in your school with the name Alexander.”
“You must be insane to think that I would hand any of these children over to you,” said Hoskins defiantly.
“Unfortunate.” Temujin shook his head in disappointment. “Chuluun.”
The bald man drew his sword and the blade came down on the back of Mr. Hoskins’s neck, severing his head and sending it rolling across the basketball court. Screams issued from every corner of the gym. One of the boys, a freshman whose name Crystal didn’t know, vomited.
“Bring me a teacher,” said Temujin. “Now!”
“Yes, my Khan.” Chuluun motioned to a nearby trooper.
Two more soldiers dragged the Spanish teacher, a frail and frightened woman, to the center of the gym. When they deposited her at the Khan’s feet, she tried to scramble away, but was stopped by Chuluun’s blade at her throat.
“Again,” said Temujin. “Turn over to me all boys named Alexander.”
The teacher, completely overcome with fear, buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.
“Two more minutes,” Alex whispered.
Crystal looked up into Alex’s eyes. “What?”
“Just two more minutes,” he repeated, more to himself than to Crystal. “Don’t hurt anybody else for two more minutes.”
*****
Sheriff Challis brought his patrol car to a screeching halt alongside Chief Deputy Tim Barker’s vehicle and jumped out as fast as his fifty-four-year-old legs would allow.
“What the hell is going on in there, Tim?” he yelled over the approaching sirens of other responding deputies.
“I’m not sure, Keith,” said Barker. “Apparently a secretary got to a phone and called in a report of gunmen in the school. I can just see two of them guarding the front doors there.”
“Have they made any demands?” asked Challis.
“None.”
“State Police coming?”
“I called ‘em,” said Barker. “A couple of troopers in the area are on their way now with more coming from Mount Pleasant.”
“Good,” said Challis. “Have we got a line of communication into the school yet?”
Barker shook his head. “Dottie’s working on it, but no one’s answering in there.”
“Well, you tell her to ring that damn phone off the hook if she has to,” shouted Challis over the growing noise. “I want to know what these bastards want.”
“You got
it, Keith.”
Challis walked back to his car, grabbed the microphone for his radio, and switched it to loudspeaker mode. “This is Sheriff Challis. We are willing to listen to any demands you may have. Come out with your hands in plain sight and no one will be….”
The ground beneath his feet began to shake and the sheriff’s voice trailed off. He watched as a discarded soda can at his feet rattled on the pavement.
“What the hell?”
The first of the Death Walkers stepped around the east corner of the building and lumbered slowly toward the bewildered cops. The mech was followed by a second, and a third, until all six were lined up in front of the school, barring the police from entry.
The mech in the center raised its arm cannons, aiming them directly at Sheriff Challis, and in a menacing electronic voice said, “No access.”
“What the hell are those things?” one of the young deputies behind Challis yelled.
As if signaled by some silent electronic cue, the other five mechs raised their arms, bringing the .50 caliber guns to bear on the pistol-packing cops.
“Everybody back, now!” Challis ordered.
The first mech opened fire and shredded the hood of Challis’s cruiser into scrap metal; oil and antifreeze spewed onto the ground. The other mechs opened fire and riddled both the police cars and students’ vehicles with armor-piercing rounds. The cops ran for cover as the mechs advanced, spewing white-hot lead with every step. The lead mech stepped down onto the ragged remains of Challis’s patrol car, plunged one of its clawed hands through the roof, and ripped the back seat out with one deft tug. The mech hurled the seat at the cowering cops, missing both Challis and Barker by mere inches.
“No access,” the mech growled a second time.
“Barker,” Challis yelled over the sound of heavy gunfire. “Do you have your phone?”
Barker looked up in time to see his patrol car explode in an immense fireball as one of the high-caliber bullets found the gas tank. “Not anymore!”
“Jesus Christ!” Challis shielded his face from the intense heat with his arm. “Somebody get me the god damned national guard!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Moe white-knuckled the steering wheel of Alan Walker’s red and white pickup. Although the school was only a few miles from the farm, this had easily been the longest drive of his short life. He looked up, saw the first plumes of black smoke rising from behind the trees, and buried the accelerator. When the school came into view, the carnage was far worse than he could ever have imagined.
“What are those things?” yelled Quintin from the back of the pickup.
Moe watched in horror as one of the Death Walkers brought its massive clawed foot down on a deputy. The cop fired his service revolver into the robot until it clicked empty. Moe felt his lunch coming up as the mech shoved its arm cannon into the screaming man’s face and opened fire.
“Mon Dieu,” cried Rene. “We have to get in there!”
“Working on it!” Moe jerked the wheel to the left and swung the pickup into the parking lot. “Hang on!”
Moe aimed the truck right for the mech and stepped down on the accelerator. The mech turned and brought its weapons to bear on the approaching vehicle. Moe did not swerve, but kept the truck aimed right for the center of the mech. Beside him, Lamont grabbed his door nervously.
“Uh, Moe,” he yelled. “What are you doing?”
Moe tightened his grip on the wheel and snarled, “I’m going to ram this truck right down its god damned throat!”
Lamont stuck his head out the window and shouted to the others sitting in the back, “Everybody, grab ahold of something!”
A moment later, the truck collided with the mech at nearly seventy miles-per-hour in an explosion of grinding metal and sparks. The mech let out an electronic screech as the impact tore the cannons from its arms and one of the missiles detonated inside the launcher, taking the right arm off at the shoulder. The front end of the truck wrapped around the mech’s sturdy body and Moe grunted as the steering wheel collided with his chest. The truck sat there for a moment, entangled with the burning wreckage of the mech as Sheriff Challis stared in disbelief.
Moe kicked the driver’s side door clean off the hinges and hopped out, a “paintball” rifle clutched in his hands. The others followed suit, jumping out of the back and brandishing weapons. Challis stared in awe at the completely intact people walking away from a wreck that should have left every last one of them in body bags. One of the deputies raised his shotgun at the armed strangers, but Challis put out an arm and lowered the gun.
“Who the hell are you people?” he yelled.
Moe cocked his rifle and smirked. “We’re the good guys. We’ll take it from here, Sheriff.”
The sound of grinding metal drew their attention and they turned in time to see the wounded Death Walker swipe the wreckage of the truck away with a single swing of its remaining arm. It turned to face the bewildered TDC agents and growled.
“I think you pissed it off, Moe,” said Robert.
The mech stepped forward and a red laser flashed out from its electronic eye, passing slowly over each of the TDC agents in turn before finally blinking out again.
The mech took another step forward and in its electronic voice said, “TDC.”
“I take it we’re expected,” said Cherry.
“Samrai,” Lamont growled as he twisted his grip on the rifle stock.
“Objective altered,” said the mech, flexing the razor-sharp claws on its remaining arm. “Destroy TDC.”
The other mechs immediately ceased their assault on the police and focused their attention on the six new arrivals. Lamont raised his rifle and fired a plasma bolt at the nose of the damaged mech, but the blast bounced harmlessly off its armored shell.
“We’re in trouble!” he yelled.
Moe fired three paintballs from his gun and the sticky purple substance adhered to the mech’s shell, bubbling and smoking as it began to do its work, but after several seconds, the metal was still intact. Only a dark stain showed the corrosive gel had ever been there.
“You ain’t kidding,” said Moe.
The others immediately opened fire, but it had no effect. As the other mechs approached, they unloaded their arm cannons at the TDC, sending them scattering to various areas of the parking lot. Quintin ran toward the school, firing continuous bursts of automatic plasma fire, and took cover behind a demolished and burning police car. He turned and looked at the school, praying to the Great Mother that his brother could hold out just a few minutes longer.
*****
Tears stung Alex’s eyes as Temujin kicked the Spanish teacher’s lifeless body aside. The poor woman had shown no defiance, only immobilizing fear — something the Khan had shown no patience for. Temujin strode forward, away from the spreading pool of blood at his feet.
“You’re only prolonging the inevitable, boy,” he taunted. “How many more have to die? Maybe your peers should be next to suffer.”
Alex ground his teeth together in anger.
In the distance, an explosion rocked the school. Dust rained down from the rafters, and the students huddled together and screamed. Temujin smiled.
“Are you that much of a coward that you will let others die in your stead?” the warlord asked.
Alex took a deep, calming breath.
“I tire of this,” said Temujin. “Separate them.”
The girls shrieked, clinging both to each other and their boyfriends for protection.
“If they resist,” Temujin shouted to be heard over the screams, “shoot them. The girls are of no use to me.”
Slowly, the soldiers picked the girls out of the crowd one by one. Alex held onto Crystal’s hand until a Horde trooper finally tore them apart, his fingers reaching for that one last touch as she was pulled away, sobbing hysterically and struggling not to cry his name and reveal him to the invaders. Finally, the girls were herded to the other side of the gym, and Temujin approached the boys,
examining them carefully. Alex tried to empty his mind, not giving the Khan anything to lock onto with his mental powers.
“Reveal yourself, Alexander,” said Temujin as he passed. “Spare these innocent children. Prove to them just how much of a hero you really are.”
Alex’s anger reached the boiling point. ::Bastard.::
Temujin turned, but the brief projection wasn’t enough for him to lock onto his prey. He smirked.
“I had hoped we could be civilized about this, but it seems you leave me no choice.” Temujin turned to address the soldiers guarding the girls. “Shoot one of the girls. Pick a pretty one.”
The boys shouted with outrage as the soldiers pulled one of the sophomores, a raven-haired girl with braces named Lindsey, out of the group and shoved her to her knees. Lindsey cried and screamed as a Hordesman placed the barrel of his plasma rifle against her head. Alex tensed and prepared to surrender himself when a voice rang out from the group of boys.
“Wait,” said the voice. “My name is Alexander.”
Alex looked over and saw one of the seniors, Alex Ross, stepping out into the open. Ross was tall and muscular; being captain of the football team and an avid bodybuilder, he actually looked the part of a hero. Temujin strode over to him and looked long and hard into Ross’s eyes.
“He is not the one,” he said. “Kill him and the girl.”
“No!” screamed Ross and Lindsey in unison.
Chuluun raised his sword toward Ross and the soldier across the room squeezed the trigger.
“Khan!”
Temujin turned slowly and looked doubtfully at the pale, longhaired young man stepping out of the crowd toward him.
Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga Page 16
