A Hole in the Sky

by William C. Dietz

  Capelli put the radio to his lips. There was no point in using military radio procedure. “This is Capelli.”

  “I read you,” Kawecki replied. “What have you got?”

  “A lot of dead people. They made the stinks pay, though. There’s at least a dozen ’brids lying around.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. I think the residents were planning to move to Tunnel-Through.”

  “How so?”

  “They were packed to leave, and they had been vaccinated,” Capelli answered. “And recently, too. All of the human bodies have Band-Aids on their upper arms. And you can see the needle marks.”

  After a moment of silence, Kawecki replied. “So Ramsey is making progress.”

  “That’s the way it looks.”

  “What now?”

  The smoke swirled and rolled away as Capelli eyed the battlefield around him. “We bury Ramsey’s citizens. Or cremate them.”

  “We’re on the way. Over.”

  Capelli thumbed the transmit button twice by way of an acknowledgment. Over? Would it ever be over? The fire crackled and black smoke rolled away.

  Haven, Oklahoma

  After cremating Brickyard’s citizens, and leaving the factory, the delegation paid visits to three more communities. Two of them agreed to join the alliance. Members of the third fired on the visitors and they had no way of knowing why. Fortunately no one was hurt.

  Now, three days after the group’s return, the citizens of Haven were preparing for war. And Capelli was worried. It didn’t take a four-star general to know that an attack on a fortified position like the railroad tunnel was an iffy proposition at best. Especially without air power, armor, or artillery to break the place open.

  In addition, Terri had to work around the clock to keep personality conflicts and politics from tearing the alliance apart. Fortunately, she had been able to convince the various players that Captain Kawecki should be in overall command because of his status as an emissary from the President, the depth of his military experience, and his neutrality where local politics were concerned.

  In an effort to provide Kawecki with a reliable command structure, all of his men had been assigned to act as advisors, with at least one of them being incorporated into each unit. The hope was that the soldiers, plus the heavy weapons and hand-held radios recovered from the Suzy Q, would be enough to overcome the advantages Ramsey’s forces had.

  Capelli wasn’t so sure. He had argued for at least a week of joint training prior to the attack. But while acknowledging the dangers involved, Kawecki, Terri, and senior members of the alliance pointed out the importance of surprise and the fact that exercises like the ones Capelli had in mind couldn’t be carried out without being noticed by the stinks. The latter represented another potential problem. What if they dropped out of the sky right in the middle of the upcoming battle?

  The whole plan was fraught with danger. But, as Susan said when Capelli expressed his concerns to her, “This is our home now, Joseph. We will live with these people or die with them.” It was a statement that left no room for doubt or backup plans. And the way she said it reminded Capelli of someone else. A man named Nathan Hale.

  The community of Haven held a communal meal the evening before the scheduled attack. It was a somber affair, and rightfully so in Capelli’s opinion. Because even if the alliance was able to win an overwhelming victory, lots of people on both sides were going to die. That’s what he was thinking as Susan left the buffet line and took the seat beside him. Capelli eyed the huge mound of food on her plate. “Eating for two, are we?”

  “Yup! We have to keep our strength up.”

  Capelli chuckled. “You’re getting fat.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Joseph?”

  Capelli looked at her. “Yes?”

  “The Tilsons, the Wexlers, and the Haneys are missing. They left most of their belongings behind. As if they plan to come back and reclaim them soon.”

  Capelli felt his heart sink. A montage of images flickered through his mind. He saw Tilson pumping the Osage warriors for information, Tilson flipping switches in the Suzy Q’s cockpit, and Tilson taking notes. Lots of notes. “The bastards.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So Ramsey knows.”

  Susan held her tea with both hands. “I think we should assume that.”

  “Maybe Terri and the rest of them will cancel.”

  Susan shook her head. “Not from what I heard in the kitchen. They feel the alliance has to attack at this point. If it doesn’t, Ramsey will. Besides, all of the necessary arrangements are in place. Who knows if we would be able to bring everybody back together again.”

  That made sense in a horrible sort of way. But Capelli discovered that his appetite had vanished. He put his fork down. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

  Susan frowned. “First, I don’t take orders from any man, and that includes you! Second, I’m the best shot in Haven, and that could make a difference. So little Joe and I will be there.”

  The “Little Joe” thing had become a running joke between them, but Capelli didn’t smile. He moved to push his chair back but stopped when Susan put a hand on his.

  “Don’t be angry, Joseph. I know you’re trying to take care of me. Of us. And I promise to stay way back. Okay?”

  Capelli looked at her, saw what was in her eyes, and felt the resentment melt away. “Okay.”

  Capelli heard peals of sardonic laughter inside his head but didn’t care. Perhaps Hale didn’t realize it—but he was dead.

  Tunnel-Through, Oklahoma

  Dawn was still half an hour away as the alliance closed in on the habitat called Tunnel-Through. Because his mostly civilian army had never been able to train together, Kawecki figured it would be a mistake to try and launch the sort of massed attack that could fail due to inexperience or miscommunication. Plus the enemy knew the alliance was coming and was well entrenched.

  So rather than rely on brute force, Kawecki chose to give each group a job it was uniquely suited to do. Once he gave the command, Kosmo and most of the fighters from Haven were going to attack the north entrance to the tunnel.

  Then, as the defenders swarmed to that location, Shaw was going to lead Capelli and a small group of carefully chosen men to the side entrance through which he and his daughter had been ejected. The job was to blow the door, enter the underground complex, and hunt Ramsey down. Because if they could capture or kill Tunnel-Through’s leader, the battle would end quickly. Meanwhile if the regulators came out to play, Bo and a group of mounted warriors would engage them, thereby giving Kosmo and his people an opportunity to withdraw with minimal casualties.

  Smaller teams, made up of people from Pop-Up, Junk Yard, and a community called Marsh, had been given maps. That included copies of the one Kawecki had drawn while spying on Tunnel-Through. They were to target specific sentries and weapons pits, take them out, and penetrate the complex via whatever doors and tunnels they happened across.

  That was the plan. But Kawecki knew it would be disrupted once the fighting began. At that point he would have to rely on hand-held radios to redeploy his troops. Were all of them in the proper position? Kawecki put out a call and listened as the answers came back. Some of the transmissions were consistent with military conventions, but most weren’t.

  “The Two Team is in position. Over.”

  “We’re here.”

  “Ready when you are,” and so forth, until the correct number of people had answered.

  “Okay,” Kawecki said, “light the place up.”

  More than a dozen flare guns went off, a series of pops were heard, and a number of miniature suns were born. They jerked as tiny parachutes were deployed, swayed gently when a breeze hit them, and began to descend. The bright lights threw harsh shadows across the half-frozen land as one of Kosmo’s men fired a Pulse cannon and scored a direct hit on the rockslide that blocked the entrance. The b
attle for Tunnel-Through had begun.

  Ramsey was sitting astride Thunder about half a mile to the west as the flares went off and the bolt of energy from the Pulse cannon struck. “You were correct,” the judge observed, peering through a pair of binoculars.

  Tilson’s horse was standing to Ramsey’s right. The businessman felt a sense of satisfaction. There had been a good deal of risk associated with spying for Ramsey, and subsequently sneaking out of Haven, but the gamble was about to pay off. Because even though he hadn’t been privy to every detail of Kawecki’s plan, he was familiar with the general outlines of it. And that meant Ramsey was, too. So shortly, within a day or so, he would be sent back not just to live in Haven but to govern it. “Yes, sir,” he said out loud. “It looks like the idiots are sticking to their plan.”

  “As we will stick to ours,” Ramsey replied confidently. “While the main group attempts to suck us in, we’ll circle around behind them and take out their command structure. Then, once the beast has been decapitated, it will die. Are you ready, Mr. Tilson?”

  Tilson felt a terrible emptiness at the pit of his stomach but managed to keep his voice steady. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s ride.”

  * * *

  Capelli and his team were already in the ravine when the flares went off and the battle commenced. He whispered, “Go,” and followed the dark blotch that was Shaw up a steep bank. Rocks clattered as they fell; a guard detached himself from the surrounding murk, and staggered drunkenly as Tenkiller put an arrow in his throat.

  The first man was still vertical and choking on his own blood when a second one fired. The quick succession of flashes revealed his position. He uttered a choking cry as another shaft sped through the air and buried itself in his chest. His body landed with a thump.

  The first guard was on the ground by that time and Shaw had to step over the body in order to reach the door. “This is it,” he said sotto voce. “You can hear the generator through the exhaust port.”

  And Capelli could hear the steady rumble and smell diesel fumes as well. “All right! Good job. Move aside so I can place the charge.”

  The block of C-4 explosive was ready and all he had to do was slap it onto the metal door and back away. Judging from the incessant chatter of automatic weapons, and the occasional boom of grenades, the feint was well under way. So the sooner he and his team got inside, the better.

  There was a flash of light and then a loud bang as the C-4 went off and the door buckled inwards. Capelli kicked it open and entered with his Bullseye leveled. Not having encountered any opposition, he took a moment to thumb the radio’s transmit button. “Capelli here. We’re inside. Over.”

  “Roger that,” Kawecki replied. “Good work. Now go after … Just a sec. Hold on.”

  Capelli heard Kawecki swear. That was followed by a sudden flurry of gunshots, some desperate shouting, and the thunder of what might have been hooves. Then there was silence. That wasn’t good. Capelli forced himself to stay focused on the job ahead and waved the team forward. “Follow me!”

  And they tried. But the group hadn’t traveled more than a dozen steps before lights appeared down the tunnel and Auger bolts flashed towards them. Capelli fired back, but he could tell that his team was outgunned as two of his men fell. “Grab the wounded and fall back!” Capelli yelled, firing from the hip.

  But there weren’t any wounded. Just dead men as Capelli, Shaw, and two others backed out through the shattered door.

  “Stand by,” one of the fighters said, readying his V7 Splicer. “I have a surprise for those bastards.”

  The man fired and a spinning saw blade sped down the tunnel, sliced through the first defender’s head, and tore into the man directly behind him. Then the whirling blade glanced off a wall and cut a third person down before finally losing its momentum and clattering to the floor.

  That offered an opening, and Capelli was about to follow up on it, when a voice he recognized as Sergeant Pasco’s came over the radio. “All units will pull back. Repeat, pull back. Prepare to implement Plan B. Over.”

  Capelli swore. Plan B was to regroup, withdraw in an orderly fashion, and try to prevent a follow-up by Ramsey. Something had gone terribly wrong.

  In keeping with her promise, Susan was well back from the assault on the north end of the tunnel, lying prone on top of a rise. It was cold, but she was wearing four layers of clothing and a piece of canvas kept her up out of the damp.

  Kawecki’s command post was a hundred feet in front of her, behind a jumble of boulders. The sun was starting to rise. The clouds had blown away and a golden glow suffused the area. That allowed her to search for targets.

  And despite the fact that the defenders hadn’t rushed out to defend the tunnel the way Kawecki wanted them to, she’d been able to pick off three of the defenders by watching for muzzle flashes, and aiming a hair above them. Her instructors would have been proud.

  But with no one to watch her back, Susan knew it was important to take a break occasionally and check what Capelli liked to call her “six.” Meaning the area behind her. And that was how she noticed movement off to the west, realized that Kosmo and his team had been flanked, and shouted a warning.

  However, Kawecki was on his radio talking to someone. And precious seconds passed before he understood the true extent of the danger, began to shout orders, and turned to confront the oncoming horsemen. Kawecki fired his carbine as he ran forward to drag a regulator off his horse.

  That was when a blast from a shotgun blew half of his face away. Within a matter of seconds the rest of the command party fell too—their bodies jerking spastically as a hail of projectiles tore into them.

  War cries were heard when a group of mounted Osage warriors barreled in from the east. Regulators were snatched out of their saddles and a confusing melee ensued as Susan fired at the man on the huge Clydesdale.

  But the shot missed, another man fell instead, and Ramsey’s cavalry were forced to withdraw to the west. Heavily armed defenders were pouring out of Tunnel-Through’s carefully concealed entrances, dozens of the alliance’s best fighters lay sprawled on the ground, and Kawecki was dead.

  As Susan began to elbow her way back off the rise, she thought about her husband and wondered if he was out there somewhere wounded or dead. She wanted to go and search for him but knew that was impossible. So, like the rest of them, all she could do was run.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CUT AND RUN

  Tuesday, January 12, 1954

  Near Haven, Oklahoma

  Capelli was running. And so were dozens of others, pounding towards the steel bridge, as a mob of angry regulators thundered after them. Bullseye tags stuttered past. One of them hit a woman in the back and drew half a dozen projectiles to her body. She staggered, threw up her arms, and landed facedown. One of their pursuers opened up with a grease gun and a hail of .45-caliber bullets dug divots out of the bridge deck as Capelli waved the survivors forward, shouting, “Stop at the end of the bridge! We’ll hold the bastards there.”

  Some of the people who were fortunate enough to make it across the bridge continued to run. But most remained. “Take cover!” Capelli shouted. “Wait until they’re halfway across and let ’em have it.”

  Capelli, Shaw, and a half-dozen others took up positions behind the rusting tow truck that was angled across the approach to the bridge. The rest of the fighters crouched to either side of the span, where steel girders and concrete supports would offer some protection. The regulators were on the span by then. They had seen their attackers turn and run, so they were confident of victory.

  Ramsey had given his orders, and his followers were eager to obey: “Follow the scum home and annihilate them.”

  But the bridge was two lanes wide, which meant only four horsemen could ride abreast. And that made them vulnerable. “Fire!” Capelli ordered from his position behind the tow truck, and what happened next wasn’t pretty. As members of the alliance opened up, the leading horses stumbl
ed. Some tumbled head over heels; others reared up and threw their riders off as hundreds of projectiles ripped into the mass of tightly packed flesh. Horse screams overlaid human screams as a pink blood mist filled the air and the regulators located towards the rear of the column tried to stop.

  But it was too late. As their mounts ran into the barrier of dead and dying flesh, the latecomers were caught up in the meat grinder as well. Some managed to dismount and take cover behind the pile of bodies. But it wasn’t enough to save them as Auger fire stuttered through the mound and cut them down. The whole battle lasted less than five minutes. “Cease fire!” Capelli shouted. “Save your ammo. You’ll need it later.”

  A heavy silence settled over the scene. The defenders seemed dazed by the way in which their fortunes had been reversed as a man went forward to put wounded horses out of their misery. By the time the gunshots were over, friends had sought friends, relatives had sought relatives, and small groups were beginning to depart.

  Capelli tried to hold them by explaining the need to not only defend the bridge, but prepare for a second assault on Tunnel-Through.

  “You must be joking,” a man from Junk Yard said. “I lost my brother-in-law and a friend today. Sure, we stopped ’em here, but that won’t put an end to it. Ramsey has more men. Lots of ’em. And they’ll be gunning for us. We can knuckle under or run. And there’s no place to run to. So stay if you want to—but there ain’t no point to it.”

  Maybe Mayor Locke or Mr. Potter would have been able to stop the exodus. But Capelli was no orator, and it wasn’t long before he was left with three men from Haven and two Osage warriors. That wasn’t enough to hold the bridge—not in the face of a concerted attack. And there was the town to consider. There were other bridges. And for all Capelli knew, Ramsey’s forces had already crossed one of them. If so, Haven would need every gun it could muster.

  After thanking the Osage for participating in the attack, Capelli released them. Then, with his fellow townsmen at his heels, he began to jog. Susan was very much on his mind at that point. Had she escaped the carnage? Fear for his wife’s safety was like a lead weight that rode the pit of his stomach.