by Blair Smith
Steve Morrison was crouched beside the Mountain Boy hit with the bullet. Speckles of blood dotted the reporter's face and neck. He sat below the lip of the wall looking dumbfounded.
Splat! Another rebel got hit squarely in the binoculars on the other side of Morrison. The young Vermonter fell with his splintered face on Morrison's lap. "Oh God!" the reporter exclaimed.
"I see him. I see him, sir," yelled a rebel. "He's 97 degrees southeast. About a kilometer out."
Wolf looked down at his map below the lip of the building, "On top of the New England Life Building."
Chaos yelled across the tower, "Hold it, Wolf. You have to assume there's snipers on every side."
"Jet coming, sir!" The Mountain Boys with Masadas set their weapons at an estimated lead-speed of 300 to 400 mph, at a trajectory of one kilometer. As the jet approached, eleven riflemen rose, propped their weapons on top of the wall and fired. Four of Wolfenstein's pack rose at the same time, sighted in on the New England Life Building, and fired on the sniper.
Splat! Splat! Two more Mountain Boys' heads popped open like melons. But two of the bullets from Wolf's pack smacked the face of the Army sniper. Blood spattered up into the facemask of the trooper.
Smoke seeped from the ZF-4's engine. Instead of banking and firing a shot, the craft tilted in the direction of Logan International Airport.
Wolf got a good look at the sniper through his scope, "They're wearing thermo-suits, sir," he reported to Chaos. Thermo-gear looked like a camouflaged, space suit with a twenty-foot vacuum hose extending out the end to a vent fan. It sucked air through the gear to cool its occupant. The thermo-gear prevented heat signature to appear through an infrared scope, making a sniper difficult to spot.
Splat! A third rebel received a bullet through his shoulder that went through his chest cavity and out the opposite side. Chaos saw the hit and realized the shot had come from the direction of the Prudential Tower. Splat! Another Mountain Boy downed, caught through the thick of the neck.
"Everyone, to the west rim!" Chaos yelled. The Prudential Tower was the only building tall enough to allow snipers to shoot effectively into the top. Mountain Boys huddled against the west wall for cover. Syntax got shot in the hand on his run to the other side, leaving a trail of blood from where he was hit.
Wolfenstein grabbed the paralyzed Steve Morrison by the scalp en route and pulled the reporter to his feet, tugging him to the other side of the building by his hair. Steve hit the knee-wall hard with his shoulders and back. "Thanks, Wolf," said Steve after recovering. Wolfenstein looked back at him as he flipped levers on his rifle and shook his head in dismay at the dazed reporter.
Mountain Boys detached the scopes of the Masadas and individually popped up and scanned the Prudential for targets. Upon locating one, they reattached the scope behind the wall and came up for a shot. "Got one, three meters left of the north corner." The scene looked like a shooting gallery arcade from the Prudential's viewpoint, with Mountain Boys popping their heads up and down at various places across the west side of the John Hancock Tower's roof. "Got number two, midsection and back in." Leg-men like Bird Dog popped up with binoculars to spot targets; they retreated below the lip to yell out coordinates, "Target, seven meters north of the corner, on the edge." Three Mountain Boys with Masadas popped up for the target, calling out the kill simultaneously: "Third target down, seven meters north of the corner, on the edge."
As the Mountain Boys systematically spotted and shot Army Regulars, another ZF-4 swooped in from the other side of the Hancock and leveled another AT-2 Shredder missile at the third level down, taking out the other stairway. The smoke buildup below forced more Mountain Boys out of the building.
Chaos crawled over to confer with Wolfenstein. "What do you think their strategy is with the missiles, Wolf?"
"I can tell you that a group of Regulars ran into the base of the building. Our boys below the blowout points can keep them from coming up the stairwells but I don't know if we can get down to support them--or get off the building at all."
"My thinking too, by surgically striking only the top floors, there isn't much damage done to the building. The Feds must think most of us are here," Chaos speculated, "and by knocking out the stairs and elevator shaft they think they've got us trapped."
"And they're right," Wolf replied. "But we still have over 200 guys scattered around in the city. All we have to do is get enough open space to laser a message to them. If we didn't have to fend off snipers from the Prudential Buil--"He noticed a small speck in the sky. From the speed and proportions of the craft, they recognized one of their model planes.
Chaos and Wolfenstein turned to one another recalling the model planes they had brought with them. It was the Starling, a brown and black-colored plane with the name Starling Striker painted on its wings. The craft flew a fraction of the speed of ZF-4s, but as it passed near the Hancock Tower, the Mountain Boys held their fire and watched Starling buzz by, zigzagging through air currents.
Down on the street, half a mile away, one Mountain Boy aimed his infrared gun at the model plane as another rebel held binoculars to the technician's eyes. The man's tongue lashed vigorously about his open mouth as he moved the levers side to side, controlling the fragile but deadly craft as it fought the currents 790 feet up.
Federal soldiers saw it coming. The Starling jerked side to side, finally floating through a broken panel of glass to the Prudential Tower's innards. "Whooooom!" Flames from the blast blew out three glass wall panels from their mounts. Another panel, nearly intact, plunged in a free fall toward the street. A looter carrying a TV looked up to see the glass literally pass before his eyes and shatter into tiny fragments that exploded on contact with the pavement. Particles shredded the man's pants and lacerated his legs. He felt lucky until he looked for the TV he had held; it lay broken on the pavement with the bloodied stubs of his arms on each side of it.
Mountain Boys continued firing as Federal Troops withdrew from the Prudential Tower. The rebels fired shots at glass panels surrounding the hole so winds could feed the flames.
Chaos smiled at his troops' expertise and crawled back to the northeast side of the building with Henchman's attack pack. They signaled the communications node near the JFK building.
Shots were still fired by Federal troops, but they were from lower elevations on surrounding buildings and from further away. Though outnumbered, the Mountain Boys had regained the edge of higher "ground." The rebels could now look downward at Army snipers on three sides.
Steve Morrison pulled a digital camera out of his coat pocket and zoomed in on the Prudential Tower. Smoke and flames billowed out of the hole just below the top floors. Dead Army Regulars were scattered randomly near roof lips and walls, they lay draped over their weapons. The Mountain Boys had their heads over the kneewall on the west side still scoping the tower. Shooting from the Prudential had stopped; other rooftops on the west side of the Hancock Tower couldn't harbor Federal snipers.
The reporter noticed a Federal soldier lying face down on the rooftop of the Prudential Tower. The soldier's head rose and appeared to be scoping in on their location. Steve pulled away from the camera's eyepiece and looked at the others along his side of the building to see if they had seen. No one appeared to be startled. Steve looked again through his camera to see if he was imagining things, and saw a flash from the muzzle of the Federal Trooper. "Look out!" He leaped over to Wolfenstein and pulled him down from the wall as the bullet popped the scope of the Masada he had been looking through.
The tackle peeved Wolf at first. Then he noticed the scope shattered on his rifle. Other rebels saw the flash and returned fire. The Fed rolled behind a wall and scurried to the security of lower levels in the blazing Prudential Tower.
Wolfenstein had never felt comfortable saying thank you, but this time he came right out with it: "Much obliged." Wolf had overheard Morrison b
egging different rebels for gum the past two days. He pulled out a pack from his shirt pocket and handed it to the reporter.
"Thank you," Steve responded pensively. Behind the cover of the two-foot knee wall, Morrison thought as he unwrapped a stick and put it in his mouth. He surprised himself. He had never felt a part of any group. Hell, he really didn't like them; they were so stoic and self-righteous. Yet, somehow, through their struggle to survive, he had developed a kinship. Their fate was now his fate. The reporter tried to steady his camera on the neighboring tower again but found his shaking hands made it impossible. As he worked on his rifle, Wolf glanced up and noticed Steve's distress.
Steve turned and slouched down with his back against the wall and watched: Syntax helped Chaos set up a Masada for a communications link to attack packs at the JFK Building, passing his commander the headset that plugged into the circuit board with his one remaining hand, Syntax's other hand had nearly been shot off by a sniper round. Step-n-Time, leg bound and bloodied, peeked over the lip of the south wall for hidden snipers, then lowered his head to the rooftop to bring color back to his pale face. Step's buddy lay lifeless beside him, his side pack open, the red disk case removed--a dead man's reflective words to a world that had only spoken harshly to him. The reporter lifted his camera and began taking pictures of the people committed to this struggle for freedom.
Chapter 12
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The attack packs from the JFK Building had rescued Max and the Virginians but they encountered trouble getting through the Fed's sixteen-block perimeter surrounding the Hancock Tower. The infantry wasn't the problem, Mountain Boys picked them off with Masadas. It was the Abrams tanks. The tanks had line-of-sight to each other, so just scrambling radio communications wasn't enough. Then too, none of the tanks could be downed. New adapters shielded the vision ports from snipers. One problem became clear: Without taking at least one tank out of action, it was unlikely they would get through the perimeter.
Chaos signaled the packs on the ground to head back to the docks and plan their exit out of the city; it was hard to justify a rescue for so few. Getting by the Abrams tanks would cost so many casualties. The Mountain Boys on the Tower were now on their own. This didn't mean they were giving up; it only meant they would have to find their own way. The two attack packs below the blasted floor, kept the Army Regulars from coming up, but Chaos had to devise a way to get by the level with the blown-out stairway and elevator hub.
As far as they knew, the Mountain Boys had cleared Federal snipers off the tops of buildings to the north. Chaos donned a harness, clipped a repelling loop behind himself at the waist and slipped a cord through it. "Wolf, when I get below, just have the others clip on and follow. By the time we get down to the base of the building the darkness will help us."
The little figure bounced off the top of the Hancock Tower and ran down the glass. Maroon and purple blends reflected his image as the sun set to the west. After dropping four stories, Chaos jumped away from the glass wall and pulled a Glock from his belt. He shattered the glass with autopistol fire as he swung into a room.
"Would you look at that son-of-a-bitch go! Ignoring the fact that my little brother is a bleeding-heart, he has balls the size of the Goodyear Blimp. Son-of-a-bitch! He is good, running down the side of the building like that." Tumult lowered his binoculars and nudged Glitch. "You gettin' all this?"
Glitch nodded his head adding, "What can we do for 'em over there, boss?"
"Nothing. I won't help 'em. Besides, we lost our window of escape just going over there and warning 'em. I'm getting sick and tired of covering my little brother's ass when he screws up. We're taken on sniper fire as it is, being this close to the airport."
Tumult's communication hub at the Bunker Hill Monument loomed two hundred and twenty-one feet atop a hill overlooking Boston. The 6,700-ton granite obelisk represented heroism and glory. Now, with a panning view across the Charles River to the south, Logan International Airport to the east, and remaining suburbs of the north and west, the mystic pinnacle with its small viewing ports dotting the surface, lived up to its mystique. Tumult could view all parts of the city and signal down to his rebels positioned between the monument and the Charles River. Less virtuous revolutionaries now held the site, but they were every bit as dangerous.
"A message, sir." A young rebel held the earphone to his head. "They say, they're coming off the top and will try and break through the tank line within the hour." The rebel waited for a response from Tumult to recite a message back to the attack packs on the tower.
"Tell them, good luck." Tumult paused a second. "Yeah. And tell them to be sure and kick up that kill ratio. Yeah."
A sniper bullet passed through the crowded bird's nest at the top of the Bunker Monument. One Mountain Boy received the bullet through the side of the face, before it proceeded on to hit a standing man just below the chest, finally striking a third rebel through the arm before it continued through the opening out the other side of the Monument.
"Piss! You boys can't spot that guy?" Tumult was livid. Flesh and blood spattered all over the place. The bullet had missed Tumult by inches.
"The light's not good, sir, and they're in thermo-suits," one rebel responded.
Tumult started yelling. "Then get your ass out there with an attack pack and get behind those guys! Start setting some fires! Wind's blowing this way! Go burn those sons-a-bitches out!"
Three rebels ran down the spiral staircase to the base. "Those son-a-bitches will need those thermo-suits after we're done with them," said Tumult after the three young men raced out of sight.
"When we goin'?" asked Glitch.
"We're goin' to head out real late tonight, but before we do, we're going to set as many fires as possible to keep the Feds busy. It would be nice if my little brother and his group took off at the same time. They'd have trouble chasing us if we took off in all directions."
"Not all directions," Glitch looked off at the Atlantic.
In a small room at the base of the monument, Helen worked desperately on the Virginian's leg. His friend assisted her by handing her instruments and dabbing her forehead to capture sweat droplets forming. She heard about the attacks on the Hancock Tower and found her mind wandering off to conversations among Tumult's Mountain Boys in the other room.
Tater lay on the floor below the wounded man's bed, lending moral support with her sympathetic gaze. The animal could smell the traces of death--the blood and flesh of open wounds, the antiseptic used in surgery--the same odors that surrounded her during Barry's demise. She got up and trotted out the partially closed door to the main room of the Obelisk to join Butch and Thad where the bulk of Tumult's rebels waited.
Butch, Thad, and Tater had gotten to Boston by hiding on a seafood truck. Because Colebrook was at the end of the route in their delivery, it had been a straight trip to Boston's docks. The boys and dog simply climbed aboard while the driver was inside the Colebrook diner; they hid behind empty boxes. But the Rousells were in Boston two days before the time The Wizard was to meet Chaos at Union Wharf. They had heard the Virginians shooting it out with a gang. After they teamed up, it had been Tater with her keen senses that helped them evade the hoodlums of Boston. Then they had found Tumult's rebels.
Helen hadn't had the chance to fully express her outrage with the boys; she was frantically trying to save the Virginian's leg. She had assisted in operations before but found that actually doing the cutting was totally different. The motor-gun shot had shredded the leg, five balls in all. Helen was concerned with leaving the young man without use of his leg. The knee was in terrible condition. She tried to reconnect muscle, but without additional blood to replace blood lost, Helen finally wrapped it up and injected him with a heavy dose of antibiotics. "Hope this works out. I'm not a surgeon, but I got out all the shot and tried to line some things up in there. It's important you keep it still for awhile."
"Thanks, ma'am." The wounded rebel was conscious through the operation. All Helen had for anesthesia was a local.
"I need to slow down in my old age, anyway," the rebel was still sweaty from his fever. The antibiotics would help, but not right away. "You'd best get back while you can. You know, ma'am, if you weren't with us, you could probably just walk out of here. They're not looking for someone like you at the check points."
"You're sweet," she held his hand. "But I am with you."
Mountain Boys began gearing up in the main room. Helen overheard their comments about the Hancock Tower and went out to the main room. "What about the Mountain Boys in the Hancock Tower?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Commander Chaos went runnin' down the side of the tower, pushed off, shot a hole through the glass and swung in. Slicker than shit."
"Is he all right?" Helen followed up.
"I guess so. We received a message from them sayin' the rest of them would follow and leave the tower shortly."
Helen added, "They'll appreciate any help you give them."
"We're not going there. We're supposed to set fires on the north and east side behind the snipers. The winds should drive it to them. The boss' idea," the rebel said, reluctant to lay claim to the notion.
The Virginian cut in, "There's nothing but apartments and townhouses there. People's homes. There might still be folks in some of them."
"Just following orders. We can't locate them the way they shoot from the hollows of the buildings, especially in this light. They're wearing thermo stuff."
As attack packs talked at the base of the monument, Butch and Thad slipped up the stairs, Tater chasing them. At the top, Butch told Tumult how Tater had spotted gang members in the streets ahead of them, allowing them to maneuver through Old Boston without getting captured. "Me and Thad have been staying with the Mountain Boys all winter. We know the whistles and stuff. But if you don't want me and Thad to help spot that sniper, the Virginian can do it with Tater. He's worked with her, too. He'll tell ya."