The next step would be a full on assault on those locations and their people. Teams around the world were at this moment conducting raids. Locally, most of the terrorists not present at the headquarters were arrested at their homes in Orlando. Others were spread out near STS campuses around the globe. Within the next day or two the WWLO would cease to exist.
Liam felt out of place amongst the feds who were all too busy to pay him any mind. He stepped outside into the warm night air. Dawn threatened the horizon. Red and blue flashing lights from police cars and ambulances lit the parking lot.
He thought of the woman he shot in the rec room and the memory it triggered. Africa. Despite the warm air, he shivered.
The conflict began gradually. Due to extreme climate change, small villages started running out of water. The Great African Drought of the 2110s was historically the worst drought in recorded history affecting every nation north of the Congo. As some villagers fled to the bigger cities, the ones who stayed behind suffered from severe dehydration until they eventually died.
As the number of ghost villages increased and refugees flooded the cities, the governments lost control. They requested help from the UN and anyone else who would listen, but the assistance offered was minimal. The other countries around the world were too busy with their own problems to give much thought to the troubled continent. The clouds above the northern half of Africa continued to stubbornly deprive them of rain.
Rumors swirled that some countries had stockpiles of water that could last decades. One of those nations was Nigeria. Their neighbor to the northeast, Chad, was one of the hardest hit. Lake Chad, near the border to Nigeria dried up. Although there was no proof, citizens and government officials of Chad believed Nigerians crossed the border and drained what little was left in the lake.
While the two nations argued over Lake Chad, war spread throughout the land. Northern nations invaded ones to the south where water was still in abundance. The fighting became too great for America to ignore and soon the military was sent to assist the countries without water in their fight to convince the other nations to share.
Meanwhile, the war of words between Chad and Nigeria escalated to a boiling point. Liam’s unit was sent to Chad in case real fighting broke out on the border. He was only on the ground two weeks before Chad decided to invade Nigeria and discover the truth for itself.
The rumors suggested that not only did Nigeria drain Lake Chad, but their citizens were practically drowning in excess water supply.
Liam followed his unit as they marched with the Chadian military into Nigeria. The first town they came to, Doro Gowon, lay near the border mere miles away from the dry bed of Lake Chad. Behind the Chadian and United States military convoys were thousands of Chadian citizens desperate for water. They marched at the heels of the two militaries—dozens fell on the journey succumbing to their own battles with thirst and dehydration. Bodies were left to rot in the African sun as they continued into Nigeria. Nobody took the time to bury them.
The mission: cross into Nigeria, investigate the rumors, and if true, negotiate a treaty between the two nations that Nigeria share their water supply.
When they crossed the border, the Nigerian army waited for them on the outskirts of Doro Gowon. At least three to four hundred Nigerians demanded the convoy to stop. Despite the United States military spread thinly across the continent, his unit still possessed an impressive arsenal. They featured four of the new third generation hovercopters and a dozen armored vehicles. Not to mention six hundred soldiers, half of them armed with PL-2 rifles. Still, the Nigerian forces didn’t blink in the threat of being outgunned and outnumbered.
Desperation was etched on the Nigerian’s faces. What were they desperate for? To keep their water for themselves?
General Foster, the future-president, and a handful of senior officers approached the Nigerian army. The two opposing forces waited five hundred yards apart. Leaders of both armies stood talking to each other halfway between their soldiers. He could tell Foster was getting heated. This negotiation, or whatever was happening out there, was not going well.
A tap on his shoulder. Percy stood behind him covered in sweat.
“What do you think they’re talking about up there?” Percy asked, dropping his bag of gear off his back.
“We’re America. Give us your shit,” he said. “For real, though, I don’t think the Nigerians are going to lay down for us.”
“Yeah, me neither. This is about to go south in a hurry.”
“Just be ready.” Liam shuffled his feet. It was hard to remain standing still in the sweltering heat while wearing his military ensemble.
“Would it be inconsiderate to take a long drink of water from our canteen in front of the Chads?” Percy gave him a slight nudge and he couldn’t help but return a small chuckle.
“Foster would kill us. But I don’t know how he expects us to fight while so damn thirsty.”
“Shoot, hide, drink, repeat.”
“Excellent battle strategy. You’ll be a general one day.”
“Keep the men happy, that’ll be my motto.” Percy gathered his bag and turned to walk back to his post. “Water would make me really fucking happy.”
He returned his gaze to the front. Foster was walking back with a pissed off look on his face. He and the senior officers were almost to the front line when the unmistakable sound of a single gunshot echoed across the landscape. The lieutenant next to Foster collapsed.
Liam blinked.
Hell broke loose.
Hovercopters swooped in from above and launched a stream of missiles at the Nigerians. Explosions shot into the sky and bodies rained back down. Foster and the other senior officers ran back to friendly territory.
Hundreds on both sides fired an onslaught of bullets and superheated plasma.
Ruins of a long-ago war sat twenty yards to his left. He ran for cover while firing a spray of plasma at his enemy. In his peripheral vision he saw dirt explode off the ground as a shower of bullets tracked him. He dove behind a wall at the last second before the wave of gunfire tore into him.
He estimated these ruins to be well over a hundred years old. He did his research before the mission and knew that in the early twenty-first century, Boko Haram, a terrorist cell, nearly destroyed this town. It took them decades to recover, and a lot of the ravaged structures on the outskirts were never repaired.
He was relieved these ruins still stood. He caught his breath and took a moment to hit recharge on his PL-2. The status bar on the rifle went from three lights back up to five.
A small opening in the wall facing the Nigerians provided enough space to aim his rifle through. The plasma erupted, burning holes through Nigerian forces and clearing him a space to move out from behind the ruins and up the front line.
He was surprised to find he was no longer alone sheltering behind the crumbling structure. Seven soldiers were now with him.
“Go! Move your asses!”
Not looking back to see if they obeyed, he sprinted from behind the ruins returning to the rage of battle.
The combined might of the United States and Chadian militaries pushed the Nigerians back further and further. He slaughtered many himself. Dry blood caked his uniform. All the while Chadian citizens trailed behind raiding dead bodies in the wake of the battle searching for canteens and drinking their water.
At last the remaining Nigerian forces surrendered. He estimated their numbers to be only a quarter of what they were fifteen minutes ago. Rifles raised, they ordered the Nigerians to lay down their weapons and put their hands on their heads. The Americans and Chadians marched further into Doro Gowon.
As they made their approach into the center of town an unpleasant stench grew fouler. He recognized it immediately—death.
They marched down a narrow road. The stink became worse the further they travelled. Liam veered over to a small house on the left while keeping one eye on his Nigerian prisoners who shook their heads as if to signal him not to
look.
Through the window he saw why. Corpses lay on the floor. From the looks of it they might’ve been dead a week. An old man, a woman, and two children—all with bullet holes in their heads; the gun rested in the old man’s hand.
Similar scenes haunted more homes throughout the village.
In the center of town they were greeted by something he did not expect. Hundreds of women, children, and seniors gathered together. In the center of the mass was a lone truck distributing water. The tank on the back barely an eighth full.
Many of the women and children saw their approach and ran to them looking for their husbands and fathers. Most failed to find who they were looking for.
It wasn’t the Nigerian military they killed, he realized. They were fathers, husbands, and brothers protecting their families as long as they could while the villagers distributed the water. They died so their children could drink.
The realization made him lightheaded and he nearly stumbled. He approached the nearest Nigerian and turned the man around so they faced each other.
“What’s going on here?”
“What does it look like?” the man asked. “We are dying. Some have already given up. Some, like me and those you left to return to the dust, would rather die fighting for our families.”
“The dead villagers in the houses?”
“They killed themselves. We ran out of water days ago, many were already weak. We were told that we were on our own. A group left with the promise of bringing help. They came back this morning along with this truck.”
The man walked on searching for his family. Liam lowered his gun and let him go.
Foster would later tell him he had no idea of the truth. The Nigerians had no spare water, nor were they hoarding any away. The Lake of Chad evaporated by itself, nobody drained it. He wanted to believe him, but a part of him would never be sure.
The Americans stayed outside of the gathering and ordered an evacuation, but the Nigerians grew agitated by their presence in the village. Some yelled obscenities at the American and Chadian forces.
When the water in the tank ran out, anger and desperation spread like a virus in the crowd. Hundreds didn’t even get a drop. Empty glass bottles thrown from the crowd shattered on the truck’s sides. Liam gripped his rifle tighter.
It didn’t take long before their anger found a new source. The gathered crowd, already hating the two militaries in their town, directed their suffering toward them.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself.
The crowd shifted their way closer to the military forces. Some yelled insults, others begged for help, and more just caught up in the crowd.
“Stay back!” he heard someone shout. Other soldiers echoed the statement.
“ETA on the evac?” he asked into his radio to anyone who could answer.
“Two minutes,” someone replied.
A Nigerian, he didn’t see who, suddenly threw a glass bottle at a soldier twenty feet away hitting the bottom lip of his helmet. Glass shards buried themselves into his face. The soldier howled in pain as blood poured down.
Another soldier sprayed warning shots into the sky.
“Get back, now!” someone shouted.
The crowd didn’t listen.
“Give us your water!” a woman shouted in the Nigerian mob. “We need it!”
“Ma’am we can give you some, but you have to calm down.” Foster made his way to the front of the line. “Everyone calm down. Let’s work something ou—”
A rock slammed into the general’s armored chest plate. Followed by another from a different location in the crowd. Then a third, this one coming from closer to himself. He tried to find the source, but it was impossible.
It happened suddenly. The crowd rushed them. In seconds he was surrounded and overwhelmed. These were desperate people, not military, but he had no choice except to defend himself against them.
Several gripped knives in their hands and slashed at any soldier within their reach. A tug on the right side of his waist. He looked down and saw a child, no older than thirteen, attempting to take his pistol. He pushed the kid away, and watched as he fell to the dirt. A punch blindsided him on the left and he dropped to one knee. A man, maybe the boy’s father, towered over him. He sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms around the man. The Nigerian tried to wiggle free, but he had a few inches and quite a few more pounds on him. The tussle ended quickly when he pushed the man away followed by a thunderous punch to his jaw.
The crowd directly around him backed off after that, but he saw other soldiers were either surrounded on all sides or lying on the ground—possibly unconscious or dead.
Gunfire erupted nearby. He couldn’t tell who fired on who. Some Nigerians screamed and ran away, others utilized their anger as fuel and rushed the soldiers with a growing urgency.
An eruption of pain from his chin. A giant rock had slammed his face. He spat blood on the ground and did a quick check with his tongue for missing or loose teeth. While he was distracted a group of four Nigerians tackled him to the ground.
They were trying to take his PL-2 rifle. If they got it free, they could kill a lot of good soldiers. He wasn’t about to let that happen. He reached for his pistol.
“Get off! Now!” he warned them.
The Nigerians, three men and a woman, did not stop.
One, two, three, and four to their heads. The shots from the pistol dropped them all before they had a chance to react. He pushed their bodies off.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the fleet of hovercopters approaching to land. He made his way to the landing site while ducking rocks and fists. Gun fire now rang out in all directions. He didn’t have time to figure out who was firing.
When the first copter landed he ushered in soldiers while holding the ground outside the doors. The soldiers, with his assistance, fought off their attackers and climbed inside the craft.
Other copters landed and the same process was happening there, too.
One soldier remained outside his copter—a Chadian who looked no older than seventeen.
“Allons! Allons-y! Let’s go!” he yelled to the soldier.
The Chadian turned to the copter and before he could run toward its safety, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder while another put a knife to his throat.
“Let him go!”
The Nigerian holding the knife looked at him with anger and hate in his eyes. He would not let go. The knife slid effortlessly across the boy soldier’s throat. The Chadian fell to the ground as he shot the man in his head.
The sound of the gunshot alerted the Nigerian killer’s friends. There were six of them about twenty yards away. All of them had knives out as well and rushed at Liam. He aimed his pistol and fired. Click.
No ammo.
The men ran closer. He reached for his PL-2, checked the charge was full and held the trigger down arcing the rifle left-to-right burning through his attackers.
The Nigerians screamed in pain as they dropped. He prepared to board the copter, but another scream rang out. A terrified scream, one that didn’t make sense coming from the people he just burned. He looked back. A few feet behind the would-be attackers knelt a woman. She was screaming, but not in pain. In her hands was a child. A young girl burnt by plasma.
There must’ve been a gap in between the attackers where his plasma spray got through hitting the small girl as her mother carried her in the chaos.
The smallest sound escaped his lips: “No.”
Hands covered his body and pulled him into the copter.
“No.” he repeated.
Moments later they were in the air leaving behind a scene of havoc and murder.
Chapter 9
SPACE WAS NOT as strange as she imagined. Bored and lonely, Ann paced in her room onboard The Christensen. Before launching the previous day, she assumed space would feel like a grand adventure, and it proved true for about an hour. With The Christensen’s artificial gravity activated, after she left the shuttle and ent
ered the ship proper it felt like she was somewhere back on Earth.
Her watch beeped twice signaling it was noon eastern time. The lottery results were being revealed across the United States. She swiped at the watch screen clearing the notification and stepped closer to her wall-screen window. Her room didn’t have a real window as it was deep in the interior of the ship, but every room came with a screen designed to look like a window and mimic the actual view from outside. Ann thought it looked astonishingly realistic.
Displayed on her wall-screen was Earth. The Christenen currently orbited above the Mediterranean Sea, which had unfortunately swallowed much of the European and Northern African coastlines over the decades. Europe had their lottery hours earlier. She avoided the news because she was fearful of how people would react when they weren’t chosen and what would happen to anyone foolish enough to brag about their luck when their number was picked.
A few incredibly lucky Americans were currently receiving word that their lives had changed while the vast majority wrestled with the crushing news that they would be left behind to die. She wished she could talk to them and tell them how important it was for them to know that she and others like her would be carrying the human legacy with them ensuring their lives and sacrifices would not be forgotten.
There was one thing she needed to know.
“Hello, Annie,” her father answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Dad. I just had to ask...”
“How’s space? Why aren’t you floating around?” he asked.
“Artificial gravity. Floating was pretty cool on the ride up here, though.”
“Launch went smooth?”
“It had its moments. Anyway, Dad, I need to know if you were selected. I have to know.”
“I haven’t even checked yet. I guess it is that time, though, huh?”
“Would you mind?”
“You know I wouldn’t go even if I did get a spot, right?”
“Dad, that’s something we could discuss. But first thing’s first.”
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