Before traveling west, Nathan had been warned to prepare for an away mission, and to pick three others to accompany him. Disturbing rumors had been circulating about foreign troops on the coast and, though they were considered unlikely, it was Nathan's job to scout along the road towards San Diego. The authorities at Phoenix had confirmed some skirmishes with their scavenging parties but could give little more information—they had simply limited their activities to the West.
And so Jan Wozniak had been assigned to take Nathan's unit to the location where the last encounter had happened, an intersection at a gas station in the little town of Quartzsite. As Wozniak related it, they'd gone to drain the fuel from the station tanks but were turned back by a heavily armed militia. According to him, they'd been native Arizonans, but he'd gotten a glimpse of others in the background in unfamiliar military uniforms. His guess was that they were Chinese, but his team hadn't hung around for long enough to find out and the authorities in Phoenix had decided, for now, to focus their efforts in other directions. Their priority, they said, was the day to day feeding of their citizens. International relations could wait.
"Private, how are you doing?" Nathan said as he helped Jake to his feet.
"I'm okay, sir. Can I ask a question?"
Here it comes, thought Nathan. The boy still hadn't understood that it wasn't his place to understand what they were doing, it was his place to follow orders. Nevertheless, he nodded.
"Why did we leave the Humvee so far away?"
"That's simple enough, soldier," Nathan said. "This is flat country and we could be spotted from miles away in the Humvee. Our orders were to park four klicks from the intersection and proceed on foot."
Jake went to ask another question but closed his mouth when he saw Nathan's expression. Good, perhaps he will get the picture eventually.
"Mr. Wozniak, lead the way."
It was no cooler when they emerged from the shade of the ruined house. It wasn't the temperature that bothered Nathan as much as the dryness of the air that was carried in on a hot breeze and seemed to drain the body of fluid with every step.
They followed the edge of the road towards where Nathan's map said the intersection was. He had taken point, with Wozniak walking just behind him. Jake was next, followed by McKenzie and Pavlov. Of the five of them, only Nathan had credible military experience. Jake had been in the militia for a few weeks, McKenzie was a former cop, and Pavlov had been in the state guard, though in a largely administrative role. Not that Nathan had many options. He'd been promoted quickly because he was one of the few fully trained soldiers to survive the Long Night, so there weren't many to pick from.
They'd encountered no signs of life whatsoever in their march from the Humvee and he was beginning to find this disturbing. Sure, a town like this with a small population and few natural resources was going to be a hard place to scratch out an existence, so he guessed the survivors had mainly fled. Still, with its abandoned cars covered in dust, looted houses, and utter silence, Quartzsite creeped him out. It was like the poster child of a nuclear holocaust.
He turned, held his hand up and gestured ahead. They crossed carefully onto the main road leading to the intersection, keeping as low as possible and jogging between the small roadside buildings until they could clearly see the yellow and orange logo of Shell.
Nathan pulled the binoculars from his pack and scanned the gas station. At first, he saw nothing but then he made out figures moving in the shade. Even from this distance, they were obviously carrying rifles and moving in the sorts of regular pattern characteristic of the military. From here, however, he couldn't see any details of their uniforms, the contrast between the shade and the blinding desert sun making it impossible.
"There's someone there," he said to the others. "Our mission is to obtain footage that HQ can examine, so we're going to have to get a lot closer."
"There's a Heaven's Kitchen right behind the gas station," Wozniak said. "I noticed it when we were here before. You should be able to get a good view from there. But we have to hurry; this place freaks me out."
Nathan plotted a route from where they were hiding across the intersection to the restaurant. "Remember, move quickly, keep low. I can't see how many of them there are, but they certainly outgun us."
He skirted the rear of the building, checked the line of sight to the gas station and fixed his gaze on his first target, a small factory building. When he was certain there were no moving figures in the distance, he set off across the gap at a crouching run.
It took them an excruciating half an hour to make their way to the Heaven's Kitchen building. The place stank of dry decay, but the only way to get a good view of the gas station was to go inside and shoot their footage from there.
"Masters, watch the door," Nathan said to Jake before leading others into the foul smelling interior.
They found a window on the far side and Nathan got the camera out, pressing it against the cleanest part of the glass. It was nothing more than a cheap point and shoot, so they could all see what it was recording through the LCD panel on the back.
"Are they Chinese, Sarge?" McKenzie said.
Nathan squinted at the screen, zooming the image to focus on the man who'd emerged into the sunlight. He was definitely Asian, and his uniform was not US standard issue. It had a camouflage pattern that extended to his green helmet. On his shoulders sat red epaulets.
"Oh my God," Nathan said. "They're North Korean!"
"Seriously? North Korea's that crackpot country with the fat leader, ain't it?" Pavlov said. "They're tiny—how could they be here?"
Nathan turned to him. "They had an army of six million, Pavlov."
"Yeah, sir, but they'd have been wiped out just like ours was."
Nathan thought about that for a moment. It had been some issue with the BonesWare implants that had caused the great die-off. "I'm not so sure, Private. I'm no expert, but I reckon it's pretty unlikely BonesWare ever got into North Korea. Good grief, they have the biggest army in the world and a megalomaniac as a leader."
He sat for another ten minutes or so capturing footage and then, once he had enough in the can, turned to the others.
The door of the restaurant kitchen burst open and the room was suddenly full of the shouting of men and the thuds of booted feet.
"Put down your weapons!"
They had no chance. Half a dozen North Korean soldiers, all but one pointing assault rifles at them. The other one, an officer, held a pistol aimed at Nathan's chest.
"Drop your weapons," Nathan said. He'd had no time to pick up his carbine, but the other two were vainly trying to cover the enemy soldiers. "Put them down, that's an order."
"Hand over the camera," the officer said in heavily accented English.
"How did you know we had one?" Nathan asked, fishing it out of his pocket.
Without answering, the officer snatched it from Nathan and handed it to Wozniak. "Here, take this back to your government, along with your report of our numbers."
Wozniak nodded nervously. "I will, Captain. I'll tell them we saw a battalion at least."
"You treacherous bastard," Nathan spat. And he knew that he and the others would be executed. Wozniak would return to Phoenix, the heroic survivor and the TLX authorities would get a completely incorrect impression of the numbers of North Korean troops. His mind whirred, even as he knew what was to come. This subterfuge only made sense if there were only a small number of enemy soldiers so far. They were trying to delay any attack by the TLX until they'd secured themselves.
"I'm only following orders," Wozniak said, "just like you."
"You were told to betray us? Why?"
"There is no time for this," the North Korean captain interrupted. "You go, and we will deal with these."
"He left a man to guard the entrance," Wozniak said, flinching from Nathan's look of utter contempt.
The captain chuckled. "A good plan, except that we were already here." He turned to two of his men. "Go; finish h
im so our friend here can escape."
At that moment, there was a deafening burst of gunfire and the officer fell to the floor. The North Koreans turned to face their attacker, one falling almost immediately.
Nathan sprang for his weapon, which lay on the table where the officer had stood just as McKenzie and Pavlov threw themselves at the nearest soldiers. Nathan's first shot spat into the neck of one soldier while another began emptying the magazine of his Type 58.
Nathan fell to the floor, showered in concrete fragments. As he looked under the table, he saw Pavlov's unseeing eyes staring back at him.
For a moment, the barrage stopped, and Nathan gambled that the soldier was changing the magazine, popped his head above the table again, and took the man in the shoulder as another round hit him from behind, causing him to topple forward. The air stank of nitroglycerin as dust fell from the walls and ceiling.
McKenzie was alive and there, crouching behind a chair, was Jake. He rose steadily to his feet.
"Wozniak got away," he said. "I couldn't shoot him, he was unarmed."
"Don't worry about that for now, get over here," Nathan called, gesturing him to the window which had exploded outwards.
Shouts could be heard from outside.
"They'll be on top of us any minute. Aim for the tanker; fire when ready."
The North Koreans at the gas station should have been on them already, but they had been ordered to remain where they were and no-one, as yet, had found the courage to disobey that order even though something had clearly gone very wrong.
Nathan sheltered behind the wall beneath the window and brought his carbine up. He prayed that the tanker wasn't empty and that his weapon could puncture it from this distance. Finally, the figures in the gas station began to move, grabbing weapons and getting into order under the cover of the shop. Jake was alongside him, aiming his weapon with the robotic precision of someone who has just learned to shoot. McKenzie, on his other side, was shooting left handed so he could stay under cover. Rounds fizzed through the window and exploded on the wall behind them.
And then, quite suddenly, the tanker exploded.
The fireball erupted in all directions, incinerating everyone on the forecourt and throwing men like popping corn to lie burning on the sand and asphalt.
By the time it reached the window, it was like opening an oven door. Acrid roiling smoke filled the room.
"Come on," he said, coughing. "We won't have got them all. We need to get back to the Humvee."
"What about Pavlov?" Jake said.
Nathan knelt beside the fallen soldier, closed his eyes, and ripped the dog tag from his neck. "We either go now or die here," he said.
They ran back the way they came, ignoring the screams of pain from the gas station. They heard shouts from behind them and knew the chase was on. But whoever they were, they didn't know the surrounding roads, so the three exhausted soldiers were able to lose them by running from house to house, yard to yard.
Finally, they arrived back at the house they'd had their noon break in. Evening had come and the air was cooler, so they didn't stay for more than a few minutes.
"Well done, Jake," Nathan said. "You had our backs."
Jake shook his head. "I can't even think about it. I heard them when they came out of the kitchen, so I crept round until I could get a clear view."
"You did good."
"You sure did, kid," McKenzie added, slapping Jake on the shoulder. "Welcome to the army."
"Let's get back to the Humvee before we lose the light. We can sleep in the vehicle then head back to Phoenix in the morning."
"Unless that snake has gotten there before us."
Chapter 15
Sergeant Tam Quinn squinted through the windscreen of the APV, searching the darkening skies for the telltale lights of an incoming plane. He wasn't a reflective man, but even he found himself imagining what it must have been like at Rickenbacker International Airport before the Long Night. Venus was setting on a cloudless dusk, but the Evening Star was the only pinprick in an otherwise unbroken firmament. It was as if humanity had never existed.
"Incoming!"
Quinn followed the direction his subordinate was indicating. Private Grant had two decades on his sergeant and it took a few seconds before Quinn could make out the faint moving lights and the even fainter white fuselage as it approached the runway.
"Fire her up," he said, and the APC roared into life. He turned to the squad huddled behind him. "Remember, our orders are to take them alive; though, if they resist, any females can be eliminated."
Quinn saw them fidgeting at this. "No, I don't know why any more than you do, but those are our orders. If they have any sense, they'll give themselves up."
"Sarge, ATC reports that they're approaching runway two."
"Get us over there," Quinn responded. Typical. A fifty-fifty chance, and of course they were waiting at the wrong one.
The plane came to a halt, silence falling like a blanket as its engines cut out. Quinn's squad gathered around the nose and he walked forward, megaphone in hand.
"Occupants of the plane. You are surrounded and ordered to surrender immediately."
There was no sign of any movement inside, so, after repeating the warning, Quinn carefully approached the nose of the aircraft. It was too high to see directly in, but there were no moving shadows. His ears strained to hear the sound of weapons being readied. Nothing.
He gestured to Grant. "Get the door open."
Private Grant examined the instructions, placed his hand over the release, and looked to his sergeant who raised his weapon and nodded.
Grant flipped the handle then pressed the stud release and the door raised itself a few inches. He grabbed the sides and, in one fluid movement, stepped back, allowing the door to drop down and the steps to emerge.
Quinn put the carbine to his eye and stood on the bottom step and, with infinite care, raised himself inch by inch until he could look along the floor of the passenger cabin. "This is your final warning. Drop your weapons, raise your hands, and come out now."
No response. The members of the squad was now gathered around the plane, waiting for his next action. He took a small canister from his belt, pulled the tab, and lobbed the tear gas into the cabin before stepping back down to the tarmac.
"There's nobody on board, Sarge," Grant said, though he kept his rifle to his shoulder.
"Planes don't land themselves," Quinn responded, though he had no explanation. Perhaps they'd killed themselves to avoid capture.
Once the smoke had cleared, Quinn ran up the steps, swept the interior and then went into the pilot's cabin as his squad checked the small passenger compartment.
"You really shouldn't be here."
The voice was coming from the instrument panel in front of the pilot's seat.
"Who said that?"
"I have opened a valve in the fuel tank and aviation fuel is now spilling onto the runway. In twenty seconds, I will cause a spark to ignite it. This is your only warning. Nineteen, eighteen …"
It took a moment for his brain to process what the voice had just said, and then he thought he could smell the pungent aroma of gas spilling.
"Evacuate the aircraft, immediately!" he called, "Now, I said!"
The men began running back along the fuselage and down the steps. Quinn felt his guts tightening as he kept a running count of the seconds remaining.
"Get as far away as possible!" he called. "No! Not in the APC, it's too close. Run!"
Suddenly, the sky lit up and he felt the roaring heat on his back as he threw himself to the ground. With a whoomf, the plane was lost in a curtain of flames.
It had been a desperate last throw of the dice, but it had paid off. So far. It had been Solly's idea to have Alison pilot the plane to Rickenbacker after her human friends had disembarked at Springfield-Beckley airport, which was along the same flight path. They'd been lucky that Springfield had been completely abandoned and they were able to quickly find a p
ickup and drive to an uncertain welcome at Wright-Patterson.
Scott's shoulder and head were both wrapped in bandages, but his eyes were bright and he was now well enough for his anger to surface.
"We had no choice," Solly said. "We were low on fuel and we knew they'd be waiting for us at Rickenbacker. And, besides, you'd lost a lot of blood. If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead."
"Then you should have let me die rather than bring Alison here," Lee said, though Solly suspected his heart wasn't entirely in it. He was angry, certainly, but he was also grateful to be alive.
"How is the patient?"
Solly turned to see Colonel McBride as he entered briskly and took up station beside the bed.
"He thinks I made a huge mistake coming here," Solly said.
"And what do you think, Mr. Masters?"
Solly shrugged. "How does the saying go? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ I figured that after your encounter with the Lee Corporation, you might be prepared to help us."
"Well, it's certainly very irregular, but then what isn't these days? Will you walk with me?"
Solly followed the Colonel into the sterile corridor of the military hospital.
"I'll be quite clear with you," McBride said, "I nearly shot you down when you were on approach and when you identified yourself, my finger was itching to pull the trigger. We lost a lot of good men that night and Wright-Patterson is only just returning to normal operations. And on top of that, there's the new D.C. government."
"I'm glad you chose to help us. This is bigger than either you or me, or even this base."
They walked out into the sunshine, heading for the colonel's office in the administration block. "That much I understood when their helicopter landed. I had no idea the Lees had a paramilitary force of their own."
The Long Night Box Set Page 45