by Barry Klemm
She compromised by finding a wheelchair, but he needed to stand to get the view he wanted. She stood by him, holding his hand, and then he put his arm around her.
“Coming on for nightfall,” he murmured. “It’s late.”
But, far out, he could see the glow to the north and knew the big island had roared to life. The building began to shake, and he saw the spurts of flame from Kono Head and at a dozen spots along the eastern side of the island. He even saw the shockwave coming—he grabbed Debbie and dragged her down below the line of the window ledge.
The glass from the windows exploded across the room and the wind, a fiery breath from hell itself, scorched into the room. Thyssen, on the floor, hugged the girl close, in those final seconds, as he felt the sudden nausea, and his vision slip away. He held her as he might have Lorna, had she been there, but who he really thought of was Jami.
“Yes, Jami, I saw it. I felt it. You were right. It was worth it…” was his final thought before blackness swallowed him.
19. THE PLAIN OF CONFRONTATION
He could see they were just in time. As they swept inland from the southern edge of the vast lake, Wagner soon spied the broad area cleared of scrub. Two large prefabricated buildings and a lot of smaller structures and tents had been erected, and the yellow shapes of mechanical monsters dragged long tails of dust as they moved about. The airstrip would be finished in days—they could probably already land a C-130 there.
“Go straight in,” Wagner instructed the pilot of his lead helicopter. He had brought with him fifty men, more than enough he could tell. There couldn’t be more than a hundred men on the ground and most of those would be native construction workers. All of his own men were trained heliborne assault troops.
“They’re asking who we are,” the co-pilot responded, his voice crackling inside the helmet Wagner wore.
“Tell them it’s Colonel Wagner, come to reinforce the ground troops against rebel attack.”
There was a pause while the messages were exchanged. “Keep going right in and land, no matter what,” Wagner instructed the pilot in the meantime. “We’ll do it the hard way if we have to.”
“They’re saying they haven’t had any trouble with rebels,” the co-pilot relayed.
The Black Hawk Assault Helicopters were pulling into a line behind him and on firm descent toward the airstrip below.
“They’re moving in on you even as we speak,” Wagner said with a smile. It amused him that he was able to speak the truth. In the hills beyond, he knew the Fulani guerrillas were making their way up from the south to support his operation. They were because he had arranged it that way. And from the west, Hausa rebels were closing in. That he had arranged as well. Within days this would be the scene of a major battle, and the movement of the pilgrims here would be utterly unsupportable.
“They say they can’t let us land without clearance from Captain Maynard,” the co-pilot relayed.
“Tell them to get clearance. Maynard takes his orders from me anyway. And by the time he responds we’ll be on the ground.”
“They’ve got Captain Maynard on the ground now,” the co-pilot said sheepishly.
“Oops,” Wagner chuckled, and then. “Patch him through to me.”
On the ground, as the Black Hawks ever neared, he could make out the tent that was the command post. A jeep had just pulled up there and a tall figure had strode into the tent.
“Wagner, what in the name of god are you up to?”
“You’ve got two huge armies of rebels closing in on you. We’re the reinforcements.”
“Nobody told me about this. I’m sorry, Kev, but you can’t land.”
“We have to land. We need fuel. And you need us.”
“I can’t permit this. I have no appropriate instructions from Task Force.”
“I don’t take orders from Task Force.”
“You do now. We all do. This is totally a UN operation, and you are part of us.”
“We are one minute from touch-down.”
“You can’t land, turn back.”
“What are you going to do, Maynard. Shoot at us?”
He could almost hear the groan on the other end of the line. In the background, someone said something about another fuck-up.
And then the Black Hawks touched down in a vast cloud of swirling dust. “Go! Go! Go!” Wagner relayed to his men and they spilled from either side of the skittish machines.
The dust from the downdraft of the choppers gave them perfect cover and they deployed as planned, to all parts of the site, invisible in their yellow fatigues and face-masks and goggles until it was too late for any of the ground crew to respond.
Wagner walked out of the man-made yellow fog and saw Maynard coming straight at him. He levelled his M16, and Maynard pulled up short.
“What the hell are you doing?” Maynard shouted, and it cost him a lot to do so in the hostile environment. Wagner was able to walk right up to him while he coughed and spluttered and cleared his watering eyes.
“Call on your men to surrender, Maynard. We got enough troubles without fighting amongst ourselves.”
Maynard stared at him. Suddenly, far too late, it was all clear to him. “What are you going to do, Wagner, shoot me?”
“Unlike you, Maynard, I won’t make the mistake of hesitating.”
Maynard was such an officer and a gentleman that even at this moment of betrayal and defeat, when he swore he did so under his breath. Then he turned to the radio man behind him. “Order all units to stand down.”
The order was transmitted. Meanwhile, Wagner had walked past Maynard and they both turned such that their positions were reversed. It was an simple as that.
“Didn’t expect you to be here, Maynard. Though you’d have your hands full at the other end.”
“To get those people to go somewhere, first you gotta give ‘em somewhere to go.”
“Last I heard, Andromeda was leading them straight on to Sierra Leone.”
“She’s got nowhere to go but here.”
“Then she’s got nowhere to go.”
“You won’t get away with this, Wagner. You’re going to have the whole US air force down on your neck.”
“Sure, that is, if Grayson’s got the nerve to start a shooting war to defend the Thyssen plan.”
“He’s committed.”
“Sure he is. I’m betting he’s as gutless as every politician in all history.”
“If you keep us hostage, he’ll have to send a rescue mission. My men are mostly US Navy.”
“You ain’t hostages, buddy. I’m not in the terrorist business. You can leave any time you like. Take our helicopters. I give them to you.”
“And how are you going to get out?”
“We ain’t going anywhere.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I sure am. Go. Now. I’m sure your men will squeeze in if they leave all their gear behind. Go with my blessing.”
“And what are you going to do when the rebels get here?”
“We’ll just have to try and make friends with them.”
*
The hospital was built to last, and certainly stand up to more than a distant earthquake and tidal floods surging through its lower floors. The moment Brian entered the building, an illusion was worked on him. Out there was a swamped city, vast pools of mud lay about the rubble, the trees were stripped of branches, everything in sight was damaged. The people toiled in their bright shirts—as if to cheer themselves—with shovels and brooms. There was no power, no water, there were thoughts of evacuating the city if essential services could not soon be restored. Honolulu was paradise turned shambles.
But as the hushed doors of the hospital admitted him into its cool corridors, it was as if nothing had happened. The building was structurally sound, the auxiliary power operating, everything had been cleaned or thrown out—there was a huge heap of carpets and timber furniture in the middle of the car park, as if waiting for bonfire night. Fourth of July wa
s only a week away, Brian supposed.
The white uniforms of the shuffling nurses, implacable as ever with their breezy air of efficiency, were everywhere. Ten days before this building had been flooded up to second floor level and filled with sleepers. When rescue services moved in, it became loaded with casualties to many times its normal capacity. But now no trace of all that remained.
Thyssen was in a room on the top floor. He lay in the bed, pale, looking his age, the rough ruddiness of his pallor and his personality vanquished. Or so it seemed at first.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Thyssen said. His voice was chillingly soft.
“Don’t go bungin’ the business-as-usual bullshit on me, Harley.”
“No, really. I’m getting better every day.”
“Yeah. You look it.”
“Listen, this is important…”
“Nothing is important. You’re a patient. I’m a visitor. That’s all there is.”
“So where’s the flowers?”
“Lorna said you didn’t want any.”
“Who do you reckon brought these?”
“Actually, you are getting better. She said you couldn’t hardly speak when she was here. If I’d known you were back in action, I’d have stayed away. I do have a lot of work to do, you know.”
Thyssen decided to give up on the banter. Plainly it was tiring him. He charged straight at the point. “You’ve got to get me to Lake Chad.”
“No way. I already checked. Doctors said you’re too ill to move.”
“Fuck the doctors. I’ve got to be there. You know that.”
“No reason for you to be there at all, that I can see. We have everything under control.”
Brian wondered if he ought to say anything about Kevin Wagner’s raid, but decided against it. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore anyway.
“Come on, Brian. Gimme a break.”
“I’ve got 12 million people to move in there. Do you think we can lay on a plane just for you?”
The argument seemed to defeat Thyssen. The anxiety left him and he breathed for a while. Brian pulled up a chair and sat, regarding him.
“I saw it, Brian. Right out that window. The whole damned thing. Kono Head went up. The wave coming in. I even saw the shock wave go by. The works.”
“You’d think you’d be happy now, after that.”
“It was worth it, Brian. Really. I think I understand why Jami did what she did. That poor lovely girl. And Felicity. And Chrissie. Three fine women, and I killed them all.”
“You killed no one. Stop trying to take all the credit for everything. All three knew the risks they were taking. Nobody forced them to do anything.”
“You’re not supposed to argue with me and get me excited.”
“I didn’t come here to argue.”
“Then why are you here?” Thyssen finally asked.
“To try and figure out how come you ain’t dead. In case I need to know the trick myself.”
Thyssen laughed. It seemed to hurt him to do so. “Hard to kill, that’s all. Some might say I’ve been dead for a long time.”
“You getting into psycho-babble these days, Harley?”
“No, it’s true. You know, I reached a point, when I was about fifty. My wife had died. My kids were gone. I’d done everything in vulcanology that there was to do and it was all boring to me. My life was over and I wasn’t dead yet. That’s a very awkward position to be in.”
“Kids don’t come by on Thanksgiving, huh? I thought all Yankee kids did that.”
“It was me who didn’t turn up for Thanksgiving, for most of their lives. Nor any other time, all that much. I had too much work to do, and just never got home. When I did, I was locked up in my study. They hardly ever saw me. When they left home, they returned the favour. It isn’t that they hate me or anything. Less than that. They just don’t care about me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Same reason I tell you anything else. Because you need to know.”
“I’ve been keeping up contact with my family.”
“I can’t help thinking about Felicity. The way that I deprived her family of her for all those last months. It was unforgivable really. Almost as if I did it out of spite.”
“I think your heart attack has softened your brain, Harley.”
“She wasn’t the only GP in the world, you know.”
“But she was the best one for the job.”
“I can’t deny I kept her around for selfish reasons.”
“We all liked her, Harley. Loved her, I mean. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“I can, and I do. It was all my fault.”
“You really think you have that much control, Harley?”
“Well, maybe I am a little deluded on that point.”
“Just like the rest of us. We’ll all get over it.”
Thyssen allowed a pause. He dragged himself further up the pillows, settled, and Brian let all that happen without comment. Finally, Thyssen, arranged to his own satisfaction, eyed his visitor directly.
“Brian, you do realise that I have no idea of what is going to happen at Lake Chad.”
“The evidence is good enough for me.”
“It’s no more than a best guess.”
“Harley, you seem to be the only person left in the world who doesn’t know that the smart thing to do is go with your guesses. It’ll be the right time and place.”
“Yes, I think it will, but thinking it will isn’t good enough for a scientist.”
“You stopped being a scientist a while back, now. You’ve become a humanitarian instead. Didn’t you notice?”
“I wondered what that strange feeling was. But it isn’t that. Empirical evidence, circumstantial as it may be, is adequate to suggest I have the time and place right. The hit will be at Lake Chad. What I’m guessing at is what effect the pilgrims will have there and what effect it will have on them.”
“As I recall, that was my theory, not yours.”
“Okay, but I gave it a scientific basis that in fact it doesn’t have. They may all be killed, Brian. I may be sending them all into a trap.”
“And every one of them knows that and is willing to take the chance. And thousands of other non-pilgrims are heading there too, because they believe it. It’s a matter of faith, Harley.”
“But I could be sending 12 million people to their deaths. That makes me a worse monster than Hitler.”
“Harley, they aren’t doing it for you. They’re doing it because they can feel it and it feels right. They all reckon they can beat this thing and they want to be there and give it a go. And you provided them with that chance.”
“Still, you must understand why I need to be there. What if they all die and I survive? Think of how unbearable that would be. I have to be there. Whatever happens to them must happen to me.”
“It won’t happen to you, Harley. The journey will kill you.”
“You don’t have any choice, Brian,” Thyssen smiled. “Didn’t they tell you that the zone encompassed this whole island. I’m just another pilgrim now.”
*
Sierra Leone. It was the only place to go. Straight on, the way they had been going. Andromeda suddenly discovered that she knew it with a certainty that frightened her. And why? Because her ancestors had been born there. She was going home and taking her people with her.
“You gotta be kidding,” Brian said. He had flown in, on his way to Lake Chad to take over, and was stopped because they said he could go no further.
“Why else have we been going this way so relentlessly?” she replied.
“Because it’s on the way to Lake Chad.”
“We can’t go to Lake Chad. Wagner’s mongrels have taken over there.”
“Maynard is gathering an assault force…”
“You expect me to lead my people into a war zone.”
“I understand Sierra Leone has a war of its own,” Brian said. “And is one of the most impoverished and over
-populated places in the region. Hardly the promised land.”
“It’s home.”
“Bullshit! You said yourself you were born in Trinidad.”
“Sure I was. But Sierra Leone is my spiritual homeland.”
Brian Carrick knew, better than anyone, that when matters turned spiritual, all reason had failed and there was no point in further argument. “Okay. So how the hell are you going to get there from here?”
“Downriver. We have hundreds of boats, then overland.”
“Through the Cameroons? The most rugged place with the steepest mountains in the world. There’s no hope.”
“Then we’ll stay in the boats and sail around…”
“River boats and canoes in the Atlantic? Be realistic, Andromeda. It can’t be done.”
“Some folks said we couldn’t get this far.”
“And you have and your people are stuck in the mud and exhausted. They can’t go any further.”
“It is the only place to go.”
“Maynard will be ready to go in the morning.”
“I will not lead my people into a war.”
“Just hold on.”
“Sierra Leone. And it is time to go now.”
But the rain poured throughout the night and the pilgrims became increasingly bogged and weary. At dawn, the sky was clearing. Captain Maynard had gathered his forces, and Brian joined him. Maynard’s plan was as simple as possible. Refuel, rearm, reinforce, and get back to the airstrip on the Plain of Confrontation as quickly as possible.
“He’s only got about fifty men with small arms at the moment. A few rockets and grenade launchers. The longer we delay, the more time he has to build up his troops and his equipment.”
He was undoubtedly correct. Already intelligence reports regarding bands of rebels closing in on the airstrip were coming in, and a NATO fighter had forced a Caribou to land after it refused to identify itself. It was loaded with Stinger missiles and other heavy weaponry.
“If he’d got his hands on that lot, it’d have taken months to dig him out.”