The Convoy

by Sebastien Acacia

  “Are you ready?” Blanche retorted to her.

  “Hmm!” Matilda reacted. “Uhh! Yes. When you want!”

  “Let’s go!” Blanche finally said, starting with one finger the timer on the touch screen she was carrying on her forearm.

  They spontaneously unlocked the brakes of their gears of death. They started to accelerate with the control handles. They quickly reached 75mi/hr. This would be their cruising speed. In five minutes, if everything went well, they would drop their backpack filled with explosives, placed the detonators on them and ran away. If everything went well.

  Frustration

  Finding a reason to get out for a bit was easy. Phoebus simply said he needed to inject a pain killer to his dog, Laïka, so all the other Kathars in the HQ agreed. In fact, whatever the reason was, nobody would have questioned his departure. Except Ermessende maybe. Not even sure. He had to leave! He was obsessed by what he had observed. Him, the old folk at the end of his life, probably having cancer that even all their science couldn’t cure. Being again a young man, being able to run again, not suffering of his back any more any time he sat or stood. No need to stand up several times per night to relieve himself. And what about the extra time he would get. Time to fight against Inosanto, to overthrow his religious empire. Time for scientific research to find solutions about the natality problem which restricted the humankind future. Phoebus had just one idea in mind, injecting himself this providential nano-substance. On the way to his lab, looking at the stalactites and stalagmites, he was remembering. Hadn’t Matilda spoken about Guilhabert jumping like a mountain goat. She had spoken about thirteen to sixteen feet jumps. At his age, this couldn’t have been just due to despair. Those super powers had been induced. By what?

  The nano-substance, that’s it!

  But Matilda hadn’t described a young man. Whatever. This damn pain arose on his flank. Why was his body calling for help, while he was getting to give up all his scientific beliefs to inject himself with the mysterious substance.

  Guilhabert, if you have sent this to us, you only did so we can use it, right?

  His meditative thoughts finally convinced him of the legitimacy of his decision. He could already picture himself getting into the lab, opening the fridge, getting out the nano-container, sticking a syringe in it and injecting its content in the biggest vein he would be able to find on his arm. Just a few seconds more. Only one last door to open. He laid his hand on the doorknob, entered the dark room, and, quite skilfully, switched on the artificial bluish and vibrating neon lights before finally reaching his working plan where scientific devices from a past era were lying. Glancing quickly at Laïka’s comfortable pillow attracted his attention. Empty! Where was she.

  She is probably enjoying her restored vitality.

  While this happy thought was filling his mind, Phoebus heard a noise coming from a table at the back of the lab. To be more accurate, it was sounding more like laments, a dog moaning. Concerned, Phoebus got closer.

  “Laïka? Laïka, is this you?”

  After a few more moans, he saw his dear dog, lying in the shadow of a desk, motionless.

  “What’s happening to you, my dear friend?”

  He pulled her toward him, putting her under the artificial light of the neons.

  “Oh, no!” He yelled.

  Laïka was almost fully covered with festering pimples, with so much pus that Phoebus’s palms were completely covered with it.

  “What’s this?”

  A huge amount of fur was covering the floor around the poor animal who was difficultly breathing. Obviously, Laïka was suffering a lot. The white of her eyes was filled with blood. A dark liquid was flowing out.

  What have I done?

  Phoebus, remaining calm, collected some pus and a small quantity of the black liquid. If he had some painkillers, he would have injected her with a good shot. But the Kathars were lacking even the most basic medicines still available in what was left of this world. He saw a bottle of Gentian on a shelf next to many products and utensils. He cleaned up the wound to try to have a better view. What was he doing? Laïka barked in pain, but didn’t have enough strength to move even a single part of her body. Quickly, the rattle became unbearable. The clinical analysis showed a skin without any fur but with deep ulcers, like unhealed burns. They were covering approximately two thirds of her body.

  Inosanto!

  Phoebus understood why Guilhabert had risked his life, crossed an ocean, defied the wildness of the sacred lands of Africa to find back his dear Esclarmonde. The substance in front of him was nothing more than the stigmata covering Inosanto. Guilhabert might have wanted to reveal this unbelievable lie to the world. Reveal this pseudo-prophet was immortal and suffering just because of a nano-substance, an unfortunate experiment which had failed. What if the great purge, this planned destruction of the world scientists, was just the revenge of a man wounded by science itself? A personal revenge under the name of a divine punishment? Phoebus couldn’t imagine that a single man could one day, just by revenge, decide to kill millions of people.

  There must be another explanation...

  The poor animal’s eyes were desperately looking for her master, crying out for mercy. Even in the name of science, Phoebus couldn’t let her suffer just to observe her, couldn’t let her become a test subject. How long would she live? Would those wounds eventually disappear? Would they become worse? None of those questions was justifying letting suffering an animal he had loved so much. He already knew enough. He had his samples. It was now time to say goodbye to his dear old Laïka. He ran toward the cupboard where the poison used by the Kathar soldiers during their mission was stored, and took a vial out. With a syringe longer than usual, he injected a lethal dose directly in the poor animal’s heart.

  “Forgive me,” he lovingly told Laïka, gently stroking a non-wounded area near her muzzle.

  Her heart immediately stopped beating, while she was breathing for the last time of the long and peaceful life.

  Goodbye to the crazy hope of a restored youth. Goodbye to the miracle cure against his cancer. Goodbye to the time he needed to overthrow Inosanto and his fake dogma. Phoebus was taken by a profound dismay. He bent backward, his back lying on the furniture ha was using as a desk. The success of the current mission was more important than ever. Whatever the cost. They had to go to Japan to find the technology they needed to unlock the secrets of this nano-substance. Also, all his doubts about Esclarmonde still being alive had just been knocked out. For sure, she was much more useful to Inosanto alive, trying to fix the volatility of this nano-biotechnology, rather than dead. She was even more useful because Phoebus knew that without her cellular microbiology knowledge, he would die very soon. He stood up to put his samples in the fridge before taking a sheet to cover Laïka’s body. He took time to wash his hand, and put on some plastic gloves. While he was getting closer to his dog’s dead body, he noticed with astonishment that the heart was beating again, and that she was imperceptibly breathing again.

  “How is that possible?” He declared loudly.

  “Ah! Here you are!” Ermessende interrupted him from the laboratory entrance.

  Nervously, Phoebus dropped the sheet on Laïka’s body. He stood up, difficulty due to his age, to go from a sitting to a standing position.

  “Yes, yes, I’m here,” he answered with a sorrowful voice.

  “What’s happening? You seem disturbed,” Ermessende worried.

  Phoebus came closer to her, and pointed at the sheet covering Laïka’s dead body in the back.

  “She has given her last breath. I was getting ready to carry her body to the incinerator.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry,” his dear friend mourned. “You don’t have to do this yourself. I was just coming to get you because we have some news. Ermengarde has contacted Trancavel. He has informed him a patrol has arrived at the bomb site. Also, we have lost all visual contact with Gaucelin who was fighting with two drones and one militiaman. I was thinking, yo
u would want to follow the operations with the whole team. I will call somebody to remove the body of this poor animal.”

  “No!” Phoebus said, irritated. “I will do it myself! I’m responsible for this task...”

  “OK! OK! No need to get angry,” Ermessende retorted.

  “Hmm! Sorry...,” he apologised, worriedly looking at the sheet which had slightly moved.

  Phoebus moved in order to hide the weird scene from his long-time life companion. Then, he insisted on having time for his last goodbye.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to stay alone with my dog one last time.”

  Ermessende didn’t insist. After a quick kiss on the cheek, she left the room. Phoebus hurried toward Laïka’s still alive body, and rolled it several times in the sheet, which had become yellow over time and because of the humidity. This action led to a few barely audible moans. He put everything in a big black bag with a zip, and, despite the body being almost 55 pounds, he carried it toward the incinerator. Only one hour ago, incinerating Laïka alive would have been unbearable, but the events had weakened his perception of normality. Once he would be done with this, he would just need to go to check on the progress of the mission in the HQ.

  Protecting, at any cost

  When the Milicia Christi MRU landed, Ermy was already overlooking at the scene from the surrounding forest height, hiding under a rock lifted by a spruce root. The perfect hid out to look at every move of the militiamen with the electronic binoculars, while escaping the temperature sensors mounted on the robotic devices which might get out of the aircraft. This precaution wasn’t superfluous. Three robot dogs, the same kind as the one Ermy had encountered in the cave, were immediately deployed in the rockfall surroundings. The Militarized Response Unit wasn’t really looking like the one the Kathars had stolen during the previous missions. It was bigger, with two smaller reactors instead of only one, its wings were larger - everything was suggesting exceptional performances. That explained how they were able to intervene so quickly.

  Tsss... Tsss...

  “Ermy to Trancavel, Ermy to Trancavel, over.”

  “Trancavel, I’m listening. Any news?”

  “I have a visual on the response unit of the militia. They have just landed. Three military dogs just got out... two militiamen... Damn! How can I delay such a squad during the time need... Oh my god!”

  “What? What’s happening?” Trancavel interrupted him.

  “Holy shit, goddamnit! The Le... the Legatee is here.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Ermy improved the focus of his electronic binocular and zoomed even more, up to the sharpness limit. The distance sensor was showing 2,090 yards. Usually, such a distance would give Ermengarde a huge advantage to hope escaping or simply staying hidden. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t be the case when opposed to war machines such as the Christ’s soldiers. So what about the simple presence of the Legatee? He was standing there, in his sights, wearing his bloody red cape, his long swords with legendary sharpened edge attached to his thighs. His cabalistic tattoos proudly displayed on his skull.

  “Affirmative,” he finally answered, in a lower voice, taking every possible precaution.

  A long silent lingered between the two men. Finally, Trancavel started speaking again.

  Tsss...

  “Do not move! Do you hear me? You don’t try anything! There is no way you can survive. Even less delay them. Trancavel, over.”

  Ermengarde was looking at the Legatee. Standing, magnanimous and looking around like he could feel the enemy’s presence around. The sun was reflecting in the rapid whirlpools of the river, giving a surrealistic aspect to the scene. Ermengarde hid even more in his hole, struck down by the simple idea the Legatee could see him, even that far away.

  Tsss...

  “Maybe I’ve an idea, Ermengarde, over.”

  “You don’t do anything, that’s an order. You stay hidden and wait for them to leave.”

  The robot dogs, which had just been snooping around the rockfall, pulled back to the MRU. The two militiamen, deployed a dozen yards from the MRU, waiting, also pulled back.

  Tsss...

  “Damn it, they are already leaving! Ermengarde. Over.”

  “Trancavel to HQ, if they come toward us, I want to be informed of their location in real time. Distance. Time before arrival. Is that clear?”

  Tsss...

  “Loud and clear, HQ, over.”

  Tsss...

  “Ermy you don’t move, stay where you are! Do you hear me? ... Ermy?”

  Ermengarde wasn’t listening any more. He had a single idea in mind - delaying the MRU departure as long as possible to provide enough time to carry out the mission. Right now, Blanche and Matilda should be going at full speed in the tube. He had to do something big enough to attract the patrol’s attention. Now outside of his hole, he moved toward a rock delicately balancing, firmly decided to toggle it, so it would slide down the hill down to the lake below. He took a trunk to use as a leverage. He glanced again at the MRU. From his position and without binoculars, the Legatee was just a simple red dot on a pebbly beach. Ermengarde pushed so strongly, with all his might, on the too rotten trunk that it broke. The cracking noise was enough for the Legatee, who was already getting back to the MRU, to stop completely. He immediately turned back and scanned again the surroundings. At this time, while Ermengarde wasn’t expecting it any more, the delicate balance maintaining the rock on the side of the mountain broke. It slowly toggled, then, gaining speed, started to roll toward the lake. The Legatee almost immediately saw it. Indeed, it was impossible not to see a rock of at least twenty feet of diameter toggling down a mountain, pulling on its way a few bushes with a deafening noise. Ermy was hiding behind a tree thicker than the others and was observing the reaction through his binoculars.

  “Oh! Shit.” He let out when he saw the three robot dogs getting out of the MRU after the Legatee had gestured toward them.

  He quickly looked at his geographic location. The forest on his right. The cliff leading to the rockfall on his left. Below, the rapids flowing into the lake. Behind him, a vast rocky plateau, so empty, it didn’t offer any potential place to hide. It was one thing to attract their attention, but he hadn’t planned what would happen after. And this was right now. Now, three heavily armed dogs were charging at him and two militiamen were following them, jumping like mountain goats, 30 feet after another. Ermy took a deep breath, and, after thinking quickly about his limited options, he chose, against all odds, to run toward the cliff overlooking the rockfall. He would stay under the tree cover a little longer. Then, he hoped he would find a way to hide, jump in the river, or maybe he would find an entrance toward the tunnel where he had bravely fought the battered military robot dog. Scared out, with panting breath, he ran as fast as he could, trying to keep an eye on the dogs and on the militiamen. They were still running toward the rock, like if they hadn’t seen the firery-haired Kathar soldier who was cowardly running away from the conflict, scared.

  *

  * *

  Trancavel had every reason to be worried. He was divided between calling Ermengarde to bust him and the possibility that opening a simple communication channel could reveal his position and really threaten his life. Ermy had taken his decision. Like every good soldier, he had put the mission before his own safety. He thought that if Ermy would make it out alive, he would deserve a medal. Nevertheless, they weren’t in a very good situation themselves. Trancavel, Jourdain, Aymeric, Geoffroy and Gaston were waiting, hidden under the tube, approximately half a mile ahead of the building where Gaucelin had created a diversion to let Blanche and Matilda infiltrating the tube. If their strategy was well planned, they would be a few dozen yards from the location where the last wagon of the freight train should be. As they couldn’t land closer, they had to adapt their strategy. First, they would have to find a type M pile, the ones used in the MRU. One unit being 13 pounds, and, as they had half a mile to cross, they had no way to carry
five or six of them at once. Once the aircraft would be equipped, Jourdain would come closer to load as much piles as possible. Just five minutes later, Ermengarde contacted him again on his intercom.

  Tsss... Tsss...

  “Ermy to Trancavel. Ermy to Trancavel.”

  “Trancavel, I’m listening. Damn it, where are you?”

  In a low and quivering voice, he answered.

  “I have delayed the patrol. They’re after me. But they won’t find me where I’ve hidden. Over.”

  “Well received. You just wait quietly, and, as soon as we are done here, we come back to get you. In the meantime, no communication. Not a single noise. Over.”

  “OK, chief... Oh no! ...

  Trancavel heard a slight din, like a shock of the communication device over a hard surface, and then, nothing more.

  “Ermy! Are you here? Ermy, answer!”

  Jourdain worried. As an attempt to comfort him, he laid his hand on his valiant friend’s shoulder who didn’t dare yelling in his intercom, scared they would all be spotted. Geoffroy and Gaston, who had recently become soldier because they were short-handed, and who didn’t have any field experience, were looking at each other, livid. Such a bad luck, Gaston thought. For their first time, they ran into one of the worse possible mission. Geoffroy was thinking the same.

  What had happened to Ermengarde? Anger was replaced by frustration. Frustration by resignation. Everybody knew the risks, and that was what they were telling themselves to get comfort. Right now, they were waiting from Blanche and Matilda to come back. Would they make it through? No communication was possible inside the tube. Now, their only connection with their roots, with the Kathars, was the HQ team, and this wasn’t particularly comforting.