Empire ba-2

by Anthony DeCosmo

  “I am.”

  “You have been with this Trevor since the very beginning, that is so?”

  Evan nodded, “Yes, yes it is.”

  “Then you know Trevor Stone. He is a friend of yours. A close friend, is this not true?”

  Evan considered for a moment then answered with a smile, “Trevor and I are very good friends. We have been very close over the years. What is it you want to know?”

  Gunther, nearly pleading, said, “Tell me now. Will he attack this city? If he will do so, please tell me. I will change my vote. I know Brad Case will change his vote, too. I think then we would be able to force Robert to let you pass.”

  “I see,” Evan considered.

  “It would be a small concession of our values, but it is much better than fighting with your people. I do not wish that.”

  “But you are willing to risk everything by voting with Robert. For what? To save his pride? You are willing to stick to your principles as long as there is no risk?”

  Gunther stumbled backwards and held his hands upward.

  “No, no, Mr. Godfrey. Please. I am an old man who has worked hard. Robert has done well for us over the years. However, I fear he is blinded in this matter because of his daughter. Please do not be mad with me. I want to support Robert, but if it is possible your forces will attack, I will wound his pride and change my vote. If for no other reason than to save him from himself.”

  “I understand,” Evan smiled and placed a reassuring hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I would do the same for Trevor in similar circumstances. Please excuse my outburst. I do understand. I do.”

  “Should I change my vote, Mr. Godfrey? Please, you must tell me. Even if you think it a little possible that your Emperor would attack. Maybe I go change my vote anyway,” Gunther made as if to leave.

  Evan stopped him.

  “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Faust. I know Trevor well. I can tell you with absolute certainty that he will not attack New Winnabow. Not as long as you show your united front. He will respect your wishes. Oh, he will scream and he will threaten, but he would not kill fellow human beings.”

  Gunther relaxed to the point that Evan thought the man might actually shed tears of relief.

  “Trust me, Mr. Faust. Stick to your principles. I know exactly what Trevor will do.”

  16. Blood on the Snow

  Jon found the scenery astounding, and big. Everything felt huge.

  Jagged islands of ice floated in the cold waters, some hundreds of feet high with glorious peaks, others flat and wide. Some looked twisted and tormented; others seemingly carved with an artist’s eye.

  From the conning tower, he saw frosted, charcoal mountains on the inland horizon smothered in misty-white clouds while the sub cruised through breathtaking fjords welcoming-and daring-travelers.

  Off the port bow, a gigantic Blue Whale waved its tale to the sub as the Earthly creature pushed through the sea with a natural elegance that separated it from the clumsy machine.

  On the shoreline, a walrus watched the boat pass with a befuddled gaze as if amused by the folly of man.

  The air-perhaps the freshest air on Earth-tasted crisp but thin. Gentle breezes caressed the scenery, casting powdered snow aloft where it fluttered like old confetti from an ancient parade.

  After a long journey under the ocean waves, the Newport News reached its destination. The majestic and unforgiving landscape of northern Greenland served as backdrop to the last leg of Jon Brewer’s journey. The stage on which a dance of horrors would play.

  Qaanaaq, Greenland earned the title ‘the northernmost human settlement on Earth,’ prior to Armageddon. A child of the Cold War, Qaanaaq appeared in the 1950s when the U.S. airbase at Thule expanded.

  To the east and north waited glaciers that once drew hordes of well-funded climatologists. Sharply rising black rock mountains coated with a hint of snow loomed on the far side of the long, desert-like ice cap.

  To the west stood the fjords off northern Baffin Bay where blockades of icebergs often jammed due to a ridge at the bottom of the sea.

  For most of Greenland, the midnight sun had faded. Not so in Qaanaaq. It would remain in a state of perpetual twilight for a few more weeks.

  Nearly all of the homes, administrative buildings, and businesses were constructed of wood, a few included second floor lofts crammed under sharply pointed roofs.

  A surprising variety of bright colors decorated those homes, perhaps as a means to bring cheer to an otherwise dull environment. However, color provided the only style to the entire “town”. The place reminded Jon Brewer of a toy train village: lifeless.

  Dirt tracks, some under dusty coatings of old snow, cut between rows of homes with scattered lampposts and flagpoles along the way. The Polar Grill resembled a cross between a tool shed and a mobile home and offered “hot dogs” and “Roast chicken.”

  Some of the buildings rested on flat plateaus poking from the side of a rocky hill. Most of the town-at least the private homes-were built on flatter ground. A cluster of cisterns-for fuel or drinking water-stood taller than everything else.

  On Saturday, August 29, Jon Brewer’s task force arrived at Qaanaag, but no one came to greet them.

  His men spent nearly five hours ferrying equipment from the Newport News ashore then set about the task of preparing for their trek across the northern wastelands.

  Assembling the SUSV command vehicle came first. Jon supervised as his men built the vehicle as if putting together a child’s model kit. First came the two white-painted tracked modules-one resembling something like a tractor-trailer cab, the other a camper-that were coupled together with hoses and grapples not unlike the connections between box cars on a train. The vehicle would carry important equipment, shelter wounded if necessary, and otherwise provide a place for small groups to retreat from the cold now and then.

  A dozen soldiers enjoyed the luxury of snowmobiles, most of which towed cargo containers. There were also four dog sled teams with Huskies pulling the leads.

  Nonetheless, the majority of the one hundred infantrymen would cross the ice cap on foot. The lack of cargo space onboard the submarine combined with the haste with which the expedition had mustered allowed no other, more comfortable options.

  Jon established headquarters inside the relatively new, single-story Qaanaaq hospital. He found a treasure trove of medical supplies. Whatever happened to the citizens of Qaanaaq-evacuation or elimination-they left behind fully stocked stores.

  The balance of the task force occupied homes, garages, and city hall for shelter while they checked, prepped, and re-checked gear.

  With the submarine moving out to sea, every soldier under Jon’s command realized they operated entirely on their own. No air support. No reinforcements. No supply convoys. Only what they carried on their backs.

  Each of the men-including the command staff of Jon Brewer, Reverend Johnny, and Captain Casey Fink-wore heavy white arctic jackets. This offered more than enough protection against ‘summer’ temperatures hovering in the mid-twenties.

  General Brewer and Captain Fink turned the hospital administrator’s office into a temporary command center. Jon felt the more temporary the better. Speed, he knew, remained his number one concern. He suspected the Goat-Walker that attacked their refueling stop was an intentional attempt to delay them. He wondered what other obstacles-and rivals-waited for them in the arctic wasteland ahead.

  For the moment, Jon’s attention diverted from the map unfurled on the office desk to Fink, who stood at the far end of the room reviewing a field manual and whistling the same tune over and over again.

  Brewer glared at Fink and asked, “Casey, what are you doing?”

  “Huh? Oh, it’s from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.” Fink then did the unthinkable. He stopped whistling and sung: “The five o’clock whistle’s on the blink. The whistle won’t blow and whaddya think? My pappa’s still in the factory ‘Cause he don’t know what tiiiiiiime-”

  “CASEY!
If you don’t shut up I may have to-”

  Reverend Johnny appeared at the door panting heavily and wearing an expression that drained any good humor from the room.

  “General, I fear the devil is afoot. I have found something you need to see.”

  The men gathered their rifles and followed Johnny along a corridor lined with empty patient rooms. Two nervous soldiers stood outside one of those rooms. When Brewer looked inside, he became nervous, too.

  “I think we know what happened to the people here,” Brewer said.

  “Death came from below,” Reverend Johnny put a fine point on it.

  The floor of the hospital room was splintered and smashed upward, revealing a hole in the tundra beneath. The sides of the hole had long-ago collapsed, sealing that particular threat but the implications were clear. Something large-larger than a man, smaller than a car-had tunneled into the hospital room and struck from below.

  Reverend Johnny knelt and pointed to a ring of black, hardened sludge around the rim of the sealed tunnel.

  “Very strange. I do not believe this passage was dug in a conventional manner. An acid of some kind may be the culprit, used to bore through the Earth itself.”

  Jon turned to Fink and ordered, “Call the men together. We’re too scattered; everyone split up to find a place to rest during the layover, that makes us vulnerable. I don’t like that at all and I want to get out of here as fast as possible.”

  Automatic weapons fire echoed across Qaanaaq.

  The three men left the collapsed hole behind, ran the hall, and then exited the front door and stood at the top of a short flight of wooden stairs. The gunfire had stopped by the time they made it outside, replaced by voices calling from one house to another, from one sentry to the next.

  “Did you see it?”

  “It came out of the goddamn ground!”

  “Holy sh-ahhhhh”

  Gunfire again.

  Jon unclipped a radio from his belt. “I need a report! Report!”

  More screams.

  Jon and his officers descended the stairs and jogged the dirt path that played the role of Main Street. The radio crackled and a panicked sentry reported, “Jesus Christ there must be about a dozen of em’. They’re coming up out of the ground!”

  A burst of gunfire.

  Jon and the other two rounded a cluster of homes and stopped at the edge of an open space near the outskirts of the settlement. Three white-clad soldiers raced toward them over the frosted ground, each stumbling as they continually glanced over their shoulders.

  Behind the trio, Jon saw two grayish fins protruding from the ground. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and realize that, yes, those fins sliced through the dirt as if attached to something underground; like a shark’s dorsal fin on the surface of the ocean.

  “Guys! Guys watch out!” Brewer yelled across the clearing.

  The creatures revealed themselves, leaping from the soil like killer whales performing at Sea World.

  They were out and then gone in a short second, affording Jon only a quick glimpse and what he did see puzzled his eyes: smooth, glistening dark skin with snouts covered in some sort of mist spraying from holes behind what might be foreheads; slender, long bodies that appeared coated in liquid, hence the glisten.

  The things leapt out of the ground and dove back in with no sign of digging, no drilling: boring through the solid earth as easily as a fish swimming through water.

  Jon saw massive, round mouths but no sign of teeth in that first quick glimpse. He did see that more fins covered the creatures, not just the one sticking from the ground but all over. A short, thin tail-less like a shark, more like a manta ray-trailed the main body.

  Two of these ‘Bore-Sharks’ attacked. The first jumped too high and one lucky soldier avoided the strike by sprawling on the ground. The monster went right over the top of her, then crashed into and through the dirt and snow, kicking up a surprisingly small amount of soil in the process. The hole the beast left behind quickly collapsed, covered over in dirt but leaving behind a ring in the Earth with steaming, melted slag around the rim.

  The second creature jumped from the ground, smashed into the body of a middle-aged human fighter, then returned beneath the surface leaving another steaming, collapsed tunnel behind. It also left behind the head and lower legs of its victim, having carried off everything in between.

  “Oh Christ,” Fink said with a delirious chuckle. “It’s a god damn land shark.”

  The radio blasted, “There’s some kind of things in the ground!”

  More gunfire from across the town.

  The two remaining soldiers in the field continued their run. Three more fins appeared in the distance, closing fast on the remaining man and woman.

  Captain Fink regained his composure and yelled, “Everyone! Freeze! Don’t move!”

  He then turned to General Brewer and explained, “I saw things like this in a movie once. They are attracted to vibrations in the ground. If you hold still, they won’t even see you.”

  “You saw it in a movie?” Jon gasped but Fink’s thinking sounded reasonable enough.

  The two soldiers in the field heeded the advice and stood perfectly still. ‘Bore-sharks’ jumped from underground and killed both people, again carrying away most of the body parts.

  Jon screamed, “Screw this! Get inside! Now!”

  They made for the nearest wooden home. As they moved, Jon gave the same order to all his men: “Get inside. Get to shelter.”

  Two fins pushed through the surface and sped toward Brewer, Fink, and Johnny as they hurried for a nearby homestead. The men barely got inside as the creatures ‘swam’ by.

  As they passed, Jon noted they barely disturbed the soil. No ground hog like trenches; hardly a line where the fins pushed through.

  A cold breeze hit the men from behind. They turned around and saw a hole in the side wall of the house.

  Reverend Johnny whispered, “They will bury so many bodies in Topheth that there won’t be room for all the graves. The corpses of my people will be food for the vultures and wild animals, and no one will be left to scare them away.”

  In the floor, another hole. Taken together, Jon clearly envisioned one of these Bore-Sharks jumping through the side wall, snatching prey, and diving through the floor into the ground again.

  Fink said what they all thought, “We’re not safe inside, either.”

  Rifle blasts sounded nearly continuous around the town.

  “How do they know where we are? They don’t have eyes above ground. If it’s not by vibration then what is it?” Jon paced as he tried to understand his enemy.

  “Whatever their fiendish means,” Reverend Johnny said, “they saw clearly through this wall and found their prey even within the confines of this home.”

  Jon held up a finger and closed his eyes. After a moment of consideration, he found an answer and shared, “They see us the same way we’re going to see them…”

  …A grenade landed on open ground and exploded a few yards in front of a fast-moving fin. The explosive mainly scattered useless shrapnel in the air, but the concussion also pushed into the soil, causing the fin to change directions, exactly as Jon hoped. The diversion gave Casey Fink time to reach the command vehicle parked outside City Hall.

  Reverend Johnny fired M16 rounds in the direction of a second fin. One bullet punched a hole in the appendage and the creature retreated.

  The same story played out around town. Groups of soldiers barricaded in buildings. The monsters circled outside. In the fifteen minutes since the swarm first arrived, Brewer confirmed five of his men dead. They managed to kill one of the creatures with a lucky burst of gunfire while at least two more of the things suffered serious wounds when they burrowed into occupied homes and met shotguns at close range.

  At the partially assembled command module, Casey Fink retrieved a large case and a small box. Unfortunately, the vehicle could not be driven; the caterpillar tracks had not yet been affixed and t
he fuel tank lacked gas, although several large barrels of petrol stood nearby.

  Fink-case and box in tow-rejoined General Brewer and Reverend Johnny. The three climbed the slope of the mountain at the back end of the town.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the expeditionary force remained in small groups at various hard points throughout the settlement. Of course, when an enemy can move through the ground as easily as a person moves through air, no point could be considered particularly ‘hard.’ Nonetheless, the soldiers concentrated fire at any approaching fin, discouraging the predators, but not chasing them off: the creatures circled the ‘streets’ waiting for an opportunity to feed.

  “Did you get the scope?” Jon Brewer asked Fink.

  “Yes, I got the scope,” Fink answered as he hoisted a. 50 caliber sniper rifle from its case.

  Their elevated position on a rock outcropping afforded a good view of the entire town.

  Captain Fink removed the telescopic sight and replaced it with a thermal scope. A moment later, he scanned the ‘streets’ of Qaanaag which appeared dull white through the heat-sensing sight.

  “All units, do you copy? Who has eyes-on any of the things?” Jon Brewer radioed.

  “Sir, Cooper here, Sir. We’re held up in the southwest quadrant in two homes. Got three of the damn things circling us.”

  Fink swept that area with the sniper rifle. He saw the heat signatures of the men inside the buildings. Then he saw a yellow and red blob moving around outside.

  He took careful aim, anticipated the creature’s movement, and fired.

  The. 50 caliber round could penetrate armor, so it easily penetrated several feet into the tundra. Nonetheless, Fink’s first shot missed, as did his second. Fortunately, the creatures did not appear to realize the bullets aimed for them.

  Finally, his third shot hit a fast-moving Bore-Shark. Its momentum through the hard dirt obviously contributed to its demise as the thing broke into three big pieces.

  “It sees us from our body heat,” Jon started and Reverend Johnny finished, “Turnabout is fair play. You are a clever man, General.”