Against All Odds

by Richard Bard

  “Less than a minute,” Kenny said.

  His back hurt and his head throbbed. He growled against the pain and pushed to his feet. “The FedEx truck is at the gate!” he said, unlatching the SAW from its seat and tearing toward the back of the aircraft.

  Sam and one of his SEALs stopped, out of breath, to greet Tony at the ramp. The three other SEALs were running toward him at full speed. “Glad you’re okay,” Sam said.

  “Time to get some!” Tony said without slowing, and the SEALs followed him.

  They were a hundred yards from the FedEx truck when its hinged roof popped open and a swarm of drones swirled out of it like bats from a cave. The mass darkened the sky as they sped toward the stadium.

  “Nooo,” Tony cried. He dropped to a knee and took aim, but stopped himself before squeezing the trigger. There was a neighborhood park behind the truck, and rows of homes beyond that. The NATO rounds from the M249 would travel nearly two miles, causing deadly collateral damage. A savage yell poured from his gut. He lowered his aim and went full cyclic on the truck instead. He panned the weapon side to side, strafing lead into it at a rate of eight hundred rounds a minute, hoping that by destroying the control vehicle, the drones would be aimless. The SEALs joined in. When the fuel tank erupted, the truck lifted from the ground in a fiery explosion. No one inside could’ve have survived.

  But not a single drone dropped from the sky.

  ***

  Neighborhood park north of the stadium

  Seconds earlier

  “Looking good,” Ghazi said, his focus buried in his goggles.

  Hadi’s eyes remained on the truck. Two of his boys were in there. He sighed with relief when the last of the drones was clear and the front passenger door opened. Aasif was first out, and as he swept his gaze left and right to confirm there was no cross traffic, Ebrahem stepped down beside him. That was when the staccato of automatic weapons sounded from the other side of the truck, and the vehicle jumped under the fusillade. Aasif and Ebrahem crouched behind the wheels as they’d been taught, each pulling submachine guns from their packs. But the onslaught didn’t permit them to return fire. Hadi guessed from the looks they exchanged they were about to make a run for it.

  Until the truck exploded in a fireball.

  ***

  Rams/Chargers stadium

  “Yeah!” Cassie shouted, jumping to her feet. She sang along to Miley Cyrus’s latest hit, and everyone else joined in, too. Well, not everyone. Jacob may have known the words, but maybe he thought he was a little too cool to sing them out loud. It was a girly song. Wait a minute, he’d been holding her hand when she was sitting down. Had she actually just let go of his hand when she bounced up? Was she insane? He rose and started clapping to the music. He nudged her with his hip, winked, and joined in on the chorus.

  She sighed. Life is good.

  Halfway through the song, a line of drones swept in from the slit under the dome. They were moving super-fast, and she stared at the formation in wonder.

  “There are hundreds of them!” someone shouted.

  “That’s lit!” Emma yelled. The crowd agreed, and their cheers echoed across the stadium.

  The line of drones spiraled into the shape of a wide funnel cloud directly over Molly’s center stage. The overhead billboard displayed videos and images that went along with the song, but the quadrant of wall screens suspended over the center of the field, as well as those scattered along the perimeter, showed close-ups of Miley from various angles. She seemed as surprised as everyone else by the wondrous formation of drones, but she went with it and kept singing. Suddenly, the sound system went silent, and the drones spread out to hover over every section of the stadium seating area. Miley stopped singing, and the crowd quieted.

  ***

  Stunt training ranch

  As soon as the FaceTime call with President Jackson ended, I jumped back on the computer with the Spider. Two minutes after that, the signal from Agent Hubbarth’s tie clip filled the laptop screen. And there was my dad. He was handcuffed to a handrail in an elevator, and his shoulder was bleeding. The terrorist, who Ahmed said was named Farhad, had a gun pointed at Dad’s face.

  Sarafina gasped. Mom cried out, “He needs help!”

  What should I do? Who should I contact? LAPD? Secret Service? President Jackson?

  All of them.

  ***

  Rams/Chargers stadium

  Jake swallowed hard when he saw the drones on the elevator’s video feed.

  Farhad sneered. “Feast your eyes on your failure.”

  Hundreds of drones had flown into the stadium. They peeled from the funnel cloud to hover in perfect formation over the stadium crowd. Jake knew from his intel that each carried a C4 explosive, and if the mass detonated simultaneously, the blast wave alone could collapse the entire structure. This had been Farhad’s end game all along. “Dear God, you mustn’t.”

  “Oh, but I must. And I will. In any case, it’s out of my hands now. It’s all automated, you see. Even my farewell speech.” He looked at his watch. “Which should be coming up right…about…now.” Farhad’s masked image filled the screen.

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and then Farhad’s voice over the loudspeakers. “Please remain in your seats for a special announcement…”

  Farhad muted the volume and turned his back on the screen. “It’s a great speech, if I do say so myself. It starts with a quick explanation of what will happen if anyone moves from their seats, and in a second there will be a quick example to let them know I’m serious.” Farhad cocked an ear, and sure enough an explosion rattled the elevator. “That was two drones collapsing a second-tier exit. That should keep everyone from trying to leave for a few more minutes. Anyway, where was I? Oh, my speech. I do drone on a bit, pun intended. And I suppose it’s a tad too long, but then again how often does one have an opportunity to create a video that will be shared more times than any in history, right?”

  Farhad’s masked image on the monitor was replaced by a new scene, and Jake had to fight to conceal his shock. Farhad didn’t notice so Jake held his gaze and the man kept talking.

  “The gist of it is that this is only the beginning for America. Many years of planning have gone into what is about to happen. Today’s attack will drive home the point that even when Homeland Security is at its highest level of readiness, it still can’t protect its people. Americans will die, and there is nothing your government, and certainly not you, can do to stop it. In fact, maybe the blame for this shall be laid at your feet when they find your remains. After all, you’re the person the world knows as the global terrorist. Ironic, right? You’ve been improperly labeled a terrorist by a series of cleverly edited videos, and as a result the world wants your head. While I, on the other hand, will simply walk free as just another American who was fortunate enough to survive the biggest terrorist attack in American history. Hell, maybe I’ll be a hero.”

  The comment regarding the altered videos rocked him. “How could you possibly know the videos were edited to frame me?”

  “I viewed the original raw footage only yesterday, right before I destroyed it.” He smiled, threw a switch on the service panel, and hit the button for the tunnel level. The elevator started its descent.

  Jake chose his words carefully. “So we’re headed down to the tunnel level, and you’re just going to walk out wearing your jumpsuit and employee badge?”

  Farhad slipped the pistol into his pocket. “As easily as I came in. Nobody knows my face.”

  The elevator stopped.

  Wanna bet?

  Jake finally looked up at the monitor to see the feed of him cuffed in the elevator with Farhad’s unmasked face in full view, captured by a camera that had to be somewhere on the dead agent’s body.

  Thanks, Agent Hubbarth.

  The doors hissed open. Farhad glanced out to confirm the way was clear, gripping the pistol hidden in his pocket. Satisfied, Farhad stepped out and disappeared from view.

 
Two seconds later there was a volley of gunfire, and a man’s voice shouted, “Clear!” Footsteps pounded, and an agent caught the elevator doors before they closed. Another agent hurried in and uncuffed Jake.

  Two medics followed him in. “We’ve got you,” one of them said, as a third medic pushed a gurney into view. The medics reached out, but Jake shoved past the lot of them and ran into the corridor, speed-dialing his phone. There was only one way to stop those drones, and he needed to find out why it hadn’t happened yet.

  As the phone rang in his ear, Lacey rushed over. She hugged him, careful to avoid his injury. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  Farhad lay sprawled with several gunshot wounds on the floor behind her. Though two medics were working to stem the bleeding, Jake could see the terrorist wouldn’t make it. But Farhad was still alive, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw Jake looking down at him. Jake turned his back on him.

  Marshall answered the phone. “Jake! We thought you—”

  “Where’s Kenny’s drone? Why hasn’t it blasted those drones?”

  “The Sparkler was shot down. So was the CV-22.”

  Jake’s friends were on that plane, but he pushed those thoughts aside for now. He had to focus on the people in the stadium. He pulled off his bloody suit coat, ripped open his shirt to unstrap the fake paunch, and raced for the staircase. “Patch Pete and Skylar into my phone!” he shouted, ripping off his shirt sleeve and taking two steps at a time.

  Chapter 36

  Neighborhood park north of the stadium

  “ARE YOU CERTAIN?” Hadi asked.

  Ghazi stuffed the VR goggles and joystick into his backpack. His voice was flat. “The drones are in position, the speech has commenced, and the swarm programming is working perfectly. If anyone tampers with a single drone, they will all explode. There is nothing more we need to do. Remaining here only increases the risk of being caught.” He wiped the moisture from his eyes. His brother had died less than fifty yards away.

  Hadi nodded. Jamal had checked in. He’d made it out of the stadium safely and was waiting for them in the Toyota Camry they’d parked on the other side of the baseball diamond. They headed out to join him. Maybe Farhad’s comms had simply gone out and he would arrive before them and they would all make their escape. Otherwise, Hadi would assume the worst, and they would head toward their next target in Las Vegas without Farhad. Hadi and the other survivors had an obligation to continue the fight.

  The park was mostly empty now. They stuck to the trees as they wound their way toward the parking area. The Camry was the only car in the lot. Hadi and Ghazi remained hidden while they surveyed the area.

  “We’re in the trees just south of your position,” Ghazi said over their comm net. “Any activity?”

  “Negative. You are clear,” Jamal replied. His silhouette moved in the car. “Has Farhad checked in with you?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s move,” Hadi said. He and Ghazi made it to the car without incident.

  “Should we wait for him?” Jamal asked.

  Hadi shook his head. “If he gets out, he knows where to find us.”

  “We lost so many today,” Ghazi said.

  Hadi said, “And we will redouble our efforts to ensure their lives were not spent in vain.”

  “They will pay.” Jamal started the car. He was about to put it in gear when a hexacopter drone appeared and hovered over the hood of the car. Its gimbaled lens spun as it focused on the occupants. Then it sped away across the parking lot to hover above the trees.

  All three men stared with their mouths agape as a black, swept-wing drone appeared in the distance behind the hovering drone and raced toward them. Two flashes shot out from beneath its wings before the small aircraft banked away. The last thing the men saw were two missiles rocketing into their windshield.

  ***

  In the tilt-rotor CV-22

  “End of story,” Kenny said softly.

  Tony and the SEALs were huddled behind him, watching the feed from Kenny’s recon drone. The CV-22 was down, but that hadn’t prevented Kenny from ground-launching the surviving drone from their rescue of Jake in Brazil. Tony saw two mini-Hellfire missiles take out the Camry a beat before the sound of the explosion reached their ears.

  “Scratch three more,” Tony said.

  “That makes thirteen in total,” Sam said. “That’s all of ’em, right?”

  Tony nodded. “Ahmed counted thirteen. He took one of them out himself. Two more in each van, plus the two outside the truck makes nine. The kingpin in the elevator makes ten, and those three complete the bill.”

  A helicopter raced by overhead. “That’s your chopper with Pete and Skylar aboard,” Cal said from the cockpit. “I sure as hell hope Jake knows what he’s doing.”

  “Roger that,” Tony said.

  ***

  Rams/Chargers stadium

  Cassie’s dad and mom had pushed their way down to her. Her dad held her little brother in his arms. Her mother’s eyes were wide with fright as she pulled Cassie close. Jacob and Emma edged in as well. The terrorist’s face filled every screen in the stadium, and Cassie feared his speech would be winding down soon. Smoke streamed from the collapsed tunnel across the field. Cassie’s ears were still ringing from the blast. Her dad had thought about making a run for it, but pairs of drones dropped down to guard every exit. The rest of the drones hovered over the stands in a symmetrical pattern, and people had edged away to create empty craters of space beneath each of them. The buzz of their motors felt like a chainsaw ripping at her insides.

  Miley Cyrus had remained onstage, and her willingness to stand tall gave Cassie strength. Her idol motioned toward her band, and they gathered beside her and held hands. They seemed to be singing something, though it was too faint to hear without a sound system. Those closer heard, and they joined in. Others did the same, and as the familiar tune of “America the Beautiful” reached Cassie’s section, she choked back her sobs and added her voice to the crowd’s.

  “There’s someone up there,” her little brother said, pointing up.

  A man was running along a catwalk just beneath the dome.

  ***

  “Did you get it?” Jake asked into his phone, as he raced along one of the utility catwalks beneath the stadium dome. He was breathless and sweaty, and his left shirtsleeve was soaked with blood. The crowd was singing “America the Beautiful.”

  “I’m shoving it into a backpack now!” Skylar shouted over the helicopter’s rotor blades. After she and Pete had gotten Jake’s call, they’d crashed the limo through the municipal airport’s perimeter fence to get to the SWAT chopper they’d used earlier. The pilot wasn’t there so Pete was at the controls. “It barely fits,” Skylar said. “This sucker is heavy. I’m placing the remote in one of the outside pockets.”

  “Understood. I’m approaching the access hatch now,” Jake said. “It’s about one hundred feet west of the center of the dome.”

  “Copy that, Jake, me boy,” Pete said. “Coming up on ’er now.”

  Jake reached the ladder leading to the maintenance hatch built into the dome’s roof. There were several of them, but this one was closest to the center without being directly over the bank of video screens suspended above the fifty-yard line. “I can’t climb this ladder with a phone in my hand, so I’m going to have to sign off. Are you ready for this?”

  “Piece of cake,” Skylar said. “Just watch your step up there. The winds are gusting.”

  “Roger that.” He pocketed the phone, stepped over the neatly coiled, fall-protection rope workers were supposed to use when climbing outside, and ascended the ladder. Lightning bolts of pain shot up his left shoulder, and he leaned awkwardly to one side to relieve the pressure. It was only a ten-foot climb, and when he reached the top, he used his good arm to pull the lever beside the hatch.

  It was locked.

  Are you kidding me? Par for the course, he thought. Nothing was ever easy, especially for him. Backing halfway dow
n the ladder, he pulled the Colt from its holster in the small of his back, and fired three slugs into the lock. There was a roar from the crowd below, and he felt the intensity of seventy thousand pairs of eyes staring up at him. The helicopter’s silhouette appeared overhead, and the downwash from its blades whipped at his face. He opened the hatch and crawled out, spreading his feet wide as he fought against the winds. The setting sun was behind the helicopter, and Skylar was leaning out the door. She dangled the backpack in her hand, and from the look on her face, she was straining from the weight of it.

  The bag was too high for Jake to reach. Skylar shouted something into her boom microphone and the helicopter edged lower. But it wasn’t maintaining a steady platform.

  “Just drop it!” Jake shouted, motioning that he would catch it.

  Skylar shook her head and yelled into her microphone again. The helicopter wobbled, lurching low enough for Jake to touch the underside of the bag. Skylar’s eyes bore into him. He nodded and she let go—just as the chopper shifted to one side. The bag slipped from Jake’s grasp and fell hard onto the dome. Jake crouched, grabbed the strap with his good arm, and lugged it toward the hatch. Skylar was right. The homemade EMP bomb must’ve weighed at least eighty pounds. He gave her a thumbs-up and the helicopter veered off.

  It was a struggle getting down the ladder to the catwalk, but he pushed through it, knowing this would soon be over. He glanced at the drones hovering beneath him.

  One way or another.

  Walt’s SWAT teammate had returned with the device before they’d left Pete’s ranch. By then Kenny had informed them he was bringing the Sparkler drone, so they hadn’t had a use for the smaller device. Thankfully, Pete had stuffed it in the trunk of the limo along with the rest of the gear anyway. Jake prayed it would work. He opened the bag, and the ball-shaped device looked none the worse for wear after being dropped on the roof. He switched on the electrical panel embedded on top of it, and the display lit up exactly as advertised.