by Alex Siegel
When Ethel got outside, she looked around but didn't see where Boreas had gone. Then she heard a sharp cry of pain which ended abruptly. She smiled.
"Over there." Atalanta pointed.
The two women walked around the building. Tall weeds filled the area behind the tavern, and some loose trash was caught between the stems. Bushes and trees acted as a screen.
The man in the tan jacket was lying on the dirt with his knee in his hands. Ethel could tell from the angle of the bones that the joint was broken. Tawni stood over him with her black sword near his throat. Boreas had a .45 caliber pistol with a suppressor aimed at the man's head.
"Who is this charming gentleman?" Ethel said.
"His name is Wilber," Boreas said. "He's a very good friend of Nathan Forrest. They've hunted together several times. Wilber has even met Nathan's father, the famous senator. Wilber hopes to be a member of the Fraternal Order of Honor and Pride one day. Sadly, their leader, Slade, doesn't think he's tough enough, but Wilber is working out and trying to get stronger. He's still hopeful."
"Really."
Ethel walked over to the line of trees and looked through. She saw an old quarry with water at the bottom. There were no witnesses.
She returned to Wilber and knelt down. "We're looking for Nathan. Tell us where he is."
He spat at her face. Her supernatural reflexes allowed her to dodge the spit easily.
She drew a knife from under her jacket. The blade gleamed like quicksilver, and the handle was wrapped in leather straps.
"I would think even a moron like you would understand the situation," she said. "This is the last time I ask nicely. Where is your good friend?"
"Fuck off."
"Tawni, keep him quiet. Boreas and Atalanta, hold him."
Boreas grabbed Wilber's legs, and Atalanta grabbed his arms. Wilber wasn't nearly strong enough to shake them off.
Tawni covered his mouth with her hand. Black shadows slithered down his throat and made him gag, but then he became silent. His eyes bulged as he struggled to inhale, but the air couldn't get past the darkness.
Ethel held the tip of her knife above Wilber's eyeball. "Do I have your attention now?"
He was silently writhing on the ground as he tried to breathe and escape.
"You're too agitated," she said. "Let me help you calm down."
She stabbed him in the right shoulder. The tip of the knife was precisely aimed at the bundle of nerves just above his breast and under the collar bone. That arm immediately went slack. She paralyzed his other arm the same way. Atalanta let go and stepped back.
"That's better, isn't it?" Ethel said. "You're not fussing as much. Tawni let him take a breath. He's turning blue."
Tawni pulled her shadows out of his lungs. He took a long, ragged breath.
"Just one breath," Ethel said. "Don't let him scream."
Tawni sent her shadows back down his throat.
"You may think you're suffering," Ethel said softly, "but trust me. This is just an introduction. There are many levels of misery beyond this one. Are you ready to have a civilized conversation now?"
She took off her sunglasses and let him stare into her eyes. The terror on his face was obvious. After a moment, he nodded.
"Let him talk," she said.
Tawni withdrew her shadows but kept her hand near his mouth.
Wilber took several deep breaths. His skin color improved.
"Why do you want Nathan?" he said in a hoarse voice.
"Because your beloved Fraternal Order abducted the President of the United States this morning," Ethel said. "That happens to be the man I love. I will do anything required to get him back. That list certainly includes turning a redneck racist like you into a quivering blob of pain. We know Nathan was involved in the abduction. You're going to tell me where he is."
"I don't know."
"That's not an acceptable response. Tawni, silence him."
Tawni sent her shadows into Wilber's lungs again. Ethel yanked down his pants, grabbed one of his testicles, sliced it off, and threw it into the weeds. His whole body arched like a bow. He thrashed so hard, Boreas had trouble keeping his legs down. She waited for oxygen deprivation to calm Wilber down.
Finally, she said, "Let him breathe."
Tawni pulled back her shadows. He gasped and coughed for a minute.
"Let's try that again," Ethel said. "Tell me where Nathan is."
There were tears on Wilber's cheeks. "They didn't tell me," he cried. "It was a big secret. Only members of the Fraternal Order know where they went, and all of them are there. They left their phones behind to make sure there was no communication."
"You must have some idea."
"In the mountains."
"That's not very specific." She grabbed his remaining testicle.
"Don't! Please, for God's sake."
"It's a shame how people often seek God when it's too late. Tell me something useful, or you'll be carrying a light load between your legs."
Wilber swallowed. "They always go hunting on the senator's land."
"What do you mean?" Ethel said.
"Nathan's dad owns thousands of acres in Virginia and West Virginia. Most of it is just forest and mountains. The Fraternal Order goes there because it's private property, and they can kill whatever they want."
She nodded. "It would also be an excellent place to hide a president."
"Yeah."
She stood up, took out her phone, and walked off a short distance. She called Todd back at Washington headquarters.
"Ma'am?" he said.
"Senator Forrest apparently owns a lot of land in Virginia and West Virginia. Get a map of the properties."
He typed for a moment. "I don't see any property listed under his name except for his home."
"What about the companies he owns," Ethel said. "Maybe the land is under the name of a corporation."
After more typing, Todd said, "No, ma'am. I'm only finding the casinos."
"I'll call you back." She put her phone away and returned to Wilber. "There is no such land."
"I swear!" he cried. "I saw it with my own eyes! We went hunting there. He owns whole mountains."
She clenched her jaw. She could tell he was being truthful. He was feeling too much terror and pain to fool her with a lie. Weak men like him broke easily.
"It seems I have no more use for you."
"You'll let me go?" he said hopefully.
"No."
With both hands, Ethel drove her knife into his eye socket. She gave it a kick to push it down until the six-inch blade was all the way in.
She faced her companions. "We'll visit Senator Forrest next. Unfortunately, that means another long drive."
"Ma'am," Tawni said, "I'm so tired I'm about to pass out. We had the battle at the bedding factory last night, and the chocolate shop the night before. Can we please get a little sleep?"
Ethel sighed. Tawni's argument was irrefutable. If they didn't rest soon, the team would become dangerously ineffective.
"We'll find a motel on the way," Ethel said, "but we're getting up at dawn tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am."
* * *
Aaron studied the video on Perry's computer monitor. It was a live surveillance feed shot from very high altitude. The details were a little fuzzy, but Aaron didn't need a lot of detail in this case. It was perfectly clear he was looking at a massive military force.
Twenty main battle tanks were leading the convoy at their top speed of about forty miles per hour. Green camouflage paint was ineffective against a background of snow and asphalt. They were driving south on Interstate 294 which was wide enough to accommodate a double column.
An endless line of trucks followed. According to Aaron's latest intelligence, the convoy included three thousand troops in full battle gear. Some of the trucks were open in the back, and he expected the soldiers were miserable in the cold. The most common vehicle was the M923 which had six big wheels. It could carry about ten men in ba
ck if they didn't mind sitting close together. The venerable M35 was also well represented even though the design was six decades old.
Armored vehicles were less common. Aaron recognized the angled shape of the eight-wheeled Stryker. He had almost died in one once. Some M113 armored personnel carriers with their distinctive boxy lines were mixed in. The classic "APCs" were probably having difficulty keeping up with the tanks. There were scads of Humvee's, but they were small and could carry at most five people. They looked like toys in comparison to the trucks.
The images were coming from two Black Owl drones flying above Chicago. The Society hackers had taken control of the drones after the attack on the legate's plane. Now the Black Owls were serving very nicely as Aaron's eyes in the sky. They were still armed with powerful lasers, and he was itching for a chance to fire them.
"I think I'm going to crap my pants, sir," Perry said.
"Don't, please." Aaron looked up at the ceiling. "Jack, are you seeing this?"
"Yes, sir," the computer replied through overhead speakers.
"At what point will the convoy be in range of our mortars?"
"According to my analysis, the optimal attack location is near the Dempster Street intersection. I'll be able to bombard the entire convoy with accurate fire. The enemy will reach that location in four minutes."
"OK." Aaron nodded. "Start firing whenever you want. Clobber them until I decide they've had enough. Hit the tanks with armor-piercing rounds first to stop the convoy in its tracks."
"Of course, sir."
Aaron didn't like being patronized by a computer, but he let it go. He took out his phone and called Leonardo.
"Sir?" Leonardo said.
"It's almost show time. The bulk of the enemy force is driving south on I-294. The hotel is equipped with long-range mortars, and we're going to pound the shit out of these guys. As soon as the bombardment ends, I want you to mop up the survivors with your group. Just work your way up the highway and kill everybody you see." Aaron checked a map on another computer display. "The Oakton Street overpass is probably the best place to wait."
"Yes, sir. How big an enemy force?"
"Around three thousand soldiers, some tanks, and other armor."
Leonardo paused. "That's a lot. We're outnumbered ten to one."
"You wanted to lead legionnaires in glorious battle, as I recall. Don't worry. By the time the mortars are done, they won't have much fight left in them. Just move fast."
"Yes, sir. We won't disappoint you."
"I'm sure you won't. Bye." Aaron hung up and dialed Marina's number. "Where are you?"
"About five minutes away," she said.
"You may hear some distant explosions. Don't worry. That's just a war being fought."
"Now I'm stressed. Thanks."
He smiled. "I'll see you in five minutes." He heard a thud above his head. "What was that? Jack, did you just fire a mortar?"
"No, sir," Jack said. "It seems an unusual atmospheric condition is forming. You should go up to the roof and take a look."
Aaron left his office. Headquarters was dead quiet. After months of intense activity, it was weird seeing the place empty. Plenty of garbage remained on the floors though.
Perry and Charles followed Aaron. Once again, Aaron had forgotten that Charles was even in the room. He had a very sneaky gift.
The three men climbed a flight of stairs. The metal door at the top was frozen shut, and it took some kicks to break the ice. Finally, they were able to reach the roof.
Aaron rubbed his arms. "Damn, it's cold up here!"
A dusting of snow covered the roof, but much of it had blown off in the wind. His sleek, blue helicopter was parked in its spot. Ice on the rotors concerned him, but he didn't have time to deal with it now. Two white sheds held batteries of guided missiles. The automatic mortars were concealed below the surface of the roof.
"What's that?" Charles pointed at a white plastic ball.
It was about ten feet in diameter and perched on a sturdy cylindrical support. Radiation warning labels were stuck to the plastic.
"That's our new microwave cannon," Aaron said. "Top secret technology. It fries the electronics of incoming missiles, helicopters, and planes. But that's not why we're up here."
A booming noise made him look to the west. There was a thunderstorm in the distance. Lightning flashed so often it was like watching a strobe. The ferocity of the storm was intimidating even from far away.
"Thundersnow," Aaron said.
"I've never seen anything like that, sir," Perry said in a tone of awe. "It doesn't look real."
"God is flexing His muscles tonight. Our enemies will have more to deal with than just our mortars. Let's go below. I don't want to be out here when that monster hits."
"Good idea."
Everybody hurried back down the stairs.
* * *
General Walker was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child on a sugar rush. He had been through many battles in his life, but this one was different. The stakes were much higher. It was a fight between titans, and it would end only when one side was destroyed.
He decided to walk around the command bunker to work off some excess energy. The room was the size of a gymnasium. Console operators occupied the front half of the floor space. The raised platform where he worked and Erika lived occupied the back half. This room had been his world for the last several weeks.
He stopped at a buffet table where sandwich components were laid out neatly. He made himself a salami and cheese sandwich. He hoped that food in his stomach would quell the nervous rumblings.
"Sir!" an officer yelled. "The convoy is under attack!"
Walker rushed over. The officer's console showed maps of Chicago. The locations of Army units were marked with green dots, and each had a tiny identifying label. Walker picked out the big convoy which was headed towards the Rosemont Tower Hotel. It was on I-294 near Dempster Street.
The officer was listening intently to his headset. "Mortar shells. Lots of mortar shells."
"From where?" Walker said.
"Unknown, sir."
Walker rubbed his temples. "Tell them to push on. I don't want that convoy to stop moving under any conditions."
"The highway is getting blocked by wreckage, sir." The officer furrowed his brow and listened for another moment. "Some tanks are already destroyed. The enemy must be using armor-piercing ammunition. The reports indicate the attack is very precise. It's sweeping up and down the line."
In the absence of aerial surveillance, Walker had to visualize what was happening out there. A mortar attack was a terrifying experience, and the open highway offered no cover. Most of the vehicles in the convoy had no armor to protect the soldiers inside. He expected that many were already running away like cowards.
Violet light drew his attention to the raised platform. A tight ball of electric sparks was floating in the air. It was pulsing rapidly, and Walker could sense the anger.
He immediately ran up the stairs to reach the platform. He prostrated himself before the benefactor.
"Why did your soldiers stop moving?" a voice boomed. The sound came from inside Walker's skull.
"The convoy is being attacked, master," Walker replied weakly.
"I don't care about that!"
"Yes, master. We'll get them going again."
"Make sure you do."
The violet light and sparks faded away. Walker stood up on unsteady legs. He was shaking badly.
He faced the staff in the command bunker. "Do whatever it takes to get that convoy moving!" he bellowed. "Mobilize every unit in the area! Get the helicopters in the air! Attack the hotel now! Attack! Attack! Attack!"
He turned to Erika. She was standing in her enclosure as close to him as the glass walls allowed. She was still wearing her purple and gold robes with a fur hem. She had added a diamond necklace to her attire. Her slaves were sweeping her enclosure, polishing the walls, and making her bed in preparation for her big victory.<
br />
"This isn't the start I was hoping for," Walker said.
She shook her head. "No."
Chapter Thirteen
Aaron spoke into his phone. "Go! Leave nobody alive."
"Yes, sir," Leonardo said.
Aaron hung up and dropped his phone into the pocket of his robes. That convoy isn't going anywhere, he thought.
He studied the surveillance feed coming from the Black Owls in the sky. The images showed the gruesome aftermath of the short but intense mortar bombardment. There were ten automatic launchers on the roof, and collectively, they could fire five rounds per second. Jack could aim them with inhuman accuracy and hit targets out to three kilometers away. The computer had a broad selection of ordinance to choose from.
Jack had wielded this devastating capability flawlessly. The bombardment had begun at both ends of the convoy, and wreckage had quickly created a box with no escape. The highway had guardrails and was elevated. Then he had systematically destroyed everything trapped inside the box. Shrapnel and poison gas were deployed against unarmored trucks and Humvees packed with soldiers. Trucks carrying fuel and ammunition responded well to incendiaries. High-explosive rounds worked nicely on lightly armored vehicles. True armor-piercing rounds were reserved for the tanks.
In the space of a few minutes, the highway had become a military junk yard. Leonardo and his group would have no trouble wiping out the injured and shell-shocked survivors.
"I'm going downstairs," Aaron said. "Call me if anything new happens."
"Yes, sir," Perry said.
Aaron hurried out of his office. He heard footsteps and realized Charles was following.
"I keep forgetting about you," Aaron said.
Charles smiled. "I'm used to it."
They jogged through headquarters. Trash everywhere forced them to take a circuitous route. The evacuation had been rushed and messy.
"I wonder if I'll ever clean this place up," Aaron said. "We may not need this headquarters after the twins finish their project."
"That's true," Charles said. "It's a shame. I like this place. It's different from most other headquarters."
They took the elevator down to the first floor and made their way to the lobby.