Baxter’s War

by A. L. Roberts

  “Yes,” Jenny said. “This room is self contained. The sniper rifles are back here.”

  Moraine continued through the maze made from tall weapon racks. They reached a room housing two rifles. Her mouth fell open in awe. Fluorescent lights played off her brown eyes. “Yes.”

  Jenny moved ahead producing keys from her blood stained lab coat pocket. She slipped a key into the display case lock housing the Barrett fifty-caliber sniper rifle. The keys jingled in her hand as she slid the glass door aside. She then turned to another case containing an ebony prototype.

  "But this one is newer. The Barrett Adder. Same weapon but lighter."

  Moraine smiled at the newest weapon system. She heard rumors about the sleeker sniper rifle. “Looks like a pellet gun with a high powered scope.”

  Moraine touched the rifle’s cool barrel. A smile played her lips, twisting her crooked nose into its former shape. The scope alone cost close to a million.

  Jenny grinned similar to a school girl. “A black titanium rifle that fires fifty-caliber rounds.”

  “Beautiful,” Moraine said. Her breath shortened as she lifted both hands to remove the ebony weapon from the rack. “And the rounds?”

  “Packed in a bag.”

  Moraine nodded. She needed to check the rounds herself to make sure Jenny didn’t pack the wrong bullets. It felt good to hold the fifty-caliber Adder, along with the M4 rifle. Her fingers brushed the rifles. The years in Delta Force seeped from her past, soaking her soul for war.

  Moraine found a workbench and sat the rifle on the surface. She pulled back the bolt, inspected the rifle innards and disassembled the weapon. She inspected each piece with a professional eye, sniffing the inside bolt for cordite, a sign someone fired the rifle without cleaning afterwards.

  Satisfied, Moraine reassembled the rifle and removed it off the table. Moraine rested the Adder upon the bags. Jenny gestured at the ammo bag where the fifty-caliber rounds sat.

  Moraine checked the rounds, good and clean, eight boxes, two boxes with explosive tips. She planned to use those on Black and White.

  Moraine pushed the flat towards the exit door. “Let’s go, Robert.”

  Robert carried the bags up the stairs. “More ammo?”

  Moraine smiled, a maniacal act more enhanced by her twisted nose. Her nose no longer ached, but breathing through her nostrils became a pain in the ass.

  She and Jenny helped haul the load as she wracked her brain for a suitable plan to kill the dogs without getting ripped apart by their solders. She concluded the Damascus Chips gave the dogs a unique talent. They owned the ability to think better than most military generals. Large scale and small-scale maneuvers elaborate enough to destroy her and the others with ease tumbled through their minds.

  The trio completed their task in forty minutes, including dragging the flat up to the first floor. They loaded the flat with their gear and headed for the garage jammed with heavy trucks.

  Armed, Robert led the way. He handled the corners, weapon pointed how Moraine showed him, and finger off the trigger. He arrived at a glass door spilling out to the garage.

  Jenny swung open the garage door. Moraine rolled the flat onto the large concrete dock. Robert stood on the deck waiting for their arrival.

  “Garage empty,” he said.

  “I will make a soldier out of you yet, Robert.”

  “I want to stay alive, Moraine. So the idea sounds good.”

  Jenny ran to a key box on the wall. She used her rifle butt to smash the gray metal box several times until the box dropped to the floor. Silver keys spilled with a metallic crash. On her hands and knees Jenny sorted through the keys, finding the set to the truck she wanted to use.

  “I got them,” Jenny said holding up the keys.

  “I’m driving.” Moraine held out her hand and Jenny tossed her the keys. The keys landed in Moraine’s steady palm.

  Moraine took the stairs down into the pit, searching for vehicle number forty-four written in black ink on the key fob. She found the truck, a big black Unimog with thick black knobby tires. She never drove a Unimog, a truck she considered a Humvee on steroids. Four-wheel drive, powerful, dependable, a truck only a confident person could handle.

  Moraine climbed up the two steps leading to the driver side door. She entered the big truck, admiring the leather interior and pressed the ignition button. The engine roared to life, a thrill flashed through Moraine.

  With experienced hands she backed the truck to the loading dock. Robert opened the Unimog’s rear door and loaded the food, ammo, weapons, and water.

  Moraine listened to the strong engine hum. She closed her eyes and inhaled the air. She smelled engine oil joined by the lemon fragrance of a hidden air freshener.

  Casey’s bright smile filled her thoughts followed by a deep hollowness in her chest. Moraine missed carrying her baby in her arms. The kiss and cuddle as her little girl struggled in annoyance at her mother’s affection.

  Voices rose from behind Moraine, high and argumentative. “Let’s go, back there. Load the damn truck.”

  “We have a problem,” Jenny said.

  Moraine turned off the Unimog engine and exited the cab. Her patience screamed for the pair to hurry, the longer they goofed around the chances Black and White’s scent vanished. “What now?”

  Jenny said, “We need to destroy the information on the cloud.”

  Moraine raised her eyebrows. “Come up with a plan.”

  Jenny narrowed her eyes at Robert. “Well that’s part of the plan, Moraine. We have to erase the Damascus Chips files. We can’t allow anyone else to get at it. Not even the government.”

  Moraine shifted her eyes from one to the other. “Nothing is wrong with that.”

  “There is,” Robert said. “That is my project, just because she and a government agency screwed with my creation is not my fault. I spent seven years working on the Damascus Project.”

  “Robert, you can always redo the work.”

  Robert displayed an incredulous look. “Ok,” he said. “Go, I’ll wait by the truck. But don’t take too long.”

  34

  The two women climbed the stairs to the third floor reaching Jenny’s office. Once inside Jenny removed her soiled white jacket, approached her computer and typed on the keyboard.

  Moraine remained silent, taking in the papers scattered over the floor. She avoided the piles stacked in organized heaps until she reached the window. The outside world appeared too still. Except for the thick black smoke boiling above the distant town, no one moved, not even cars or airplanes.

  Moraine continued gazing out the window, wanting the doctor to finish. Her eyes settled on the bright sky. In the distance, silver flashes played along the air. Moraine placed her forehead upon the warm window and squinted her eyes.

  “Jenny, what's the roof code?”

  “You forgot so soon? The code is, eight-one-one.”

  Moraine dislodged herself from the window, exited the office for the roof. She ascended the back stairs and punched in the security code on a small box on the wall and swung open the door. Outside the warm air greeted her along with smoke’s burnt scent blown in from the city.

  Moraine locked her eyes on the horizon and the curious reflections growing from the blue.

  Familiar sounds rushed her. Her memory flashed back to blazing deserts and freezing mountains, reeled back to a time where she faced the snow, bullets, and screams. War.

  “Blackhawks.”

  Moraine returned to Jenny’s office. She burst in as Jenny hit her last keystroke. “Jenny, we got helicopters coming.”

  “That’s General Grisby. He’ll be mad once he realizes I destroyed the Damascus Chips program.”

  Moraine gazed out the office window. She counted eight birds. “They will kill us, Jenny. We need to go now.”

  “Let me set the self destruct timer for the Labs and dogs.” Jenny worked the keyboard again. “All this work, Moraine. All this hard work.”

  Moraine da
red to sympathize, but strangled the emotion. They needed to stay alive and find her family, save the others if possible.

  Moraine turned to the window as the eight helicopters transformed from glints to visible objects. Their rotor blades beat the air strong, trembling the windows to Jenny’s office. Each beat kept time with her heart.

  Jenny struck the enter key on the keyboard, the final move got the self-destruct sequence working. “Five tons of TNT, Moraine. This place will burn fast.”

  “And the dogs?”

  “Their timers are one also.” Jenny said. “Years down the drain.”

  Moraine ignored Jenny’s rambling. She focused on the helicopters and the trained men huddled within the Blackhawks. The troops aboard the Blackhawks came prepared for war. The eight choppers soared above the window, slipping beyond her line of sight. She figured they hovered over the roof.

  Jenny wiped tears from her eyes. “Done, Moraine,” she said and departed the office.

  Moraine spun on her heels, muscles tensing. She wondered if Special Forces soldiers arrived to assassinate Jenny or take her somewhere dark for questioning.

  Out the door the two women ran. An explosion rocked the ceiling. The sudden noise spurred them to move faster.

  Moraine kicked the door open leading downstairs. She smelled smoke, melted plastic and explosive fumes from the C4 the team used. Shouts echoed to her, a black ball tumbled from above their heads.

  Jenny paused on the landing, her eyes trailing the grenade tumbling from the upper stairwell. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the danger she faced.

  Moraine snatched Jenny’s arm with one hand, grabbed the second floor door with the other and swung it open. She shoved Jenny, pushing her own body over the threshold. The door closed behind them and the grenade exploded.

  Moraine screamed from the concussion driving through her body. Her head swam. The metal door protected them from the shrapnel spraying the second floor landing.

  Moraine patted her body with a scarred right hand while gripping Jenny’s skinny arm in her left. She scrambled to her feet, jerking the scientist up with her. Jenny’s head lolled and Moraine slapped her twice across the face.

  Jenny’s eyes fluttered open, her cheeks reddened. “Why did you do that?”

  “Is there another way to the garage?”

  Jenny blinked. A crimson rivulet seeped from her left ear. “What?”

  Moraine raised her hand to slap the woman again. Shouts rose from the stairwell, closer and determined.

  Jenny tried to pull away from Moraine’s third blow. “Why are you hitting me?”

  “Where’s the garage from here?” Moraine never ventured this far into the Labs.

  Jenny jerked away and bolted toward a sunlit causeway. Moraine followed the woman who wobbled as she ran. The shattered door to the second floor buckled.

  “Just run, Jenny.” Moraine watched the scientist run a clumsy sprint. She trailed her and halted before the doorway, eager to look at the pursuing soldiers.

  Moraine waited three seconds. A helmeted head with shaded visor peeked around a corner.

  A soldier dressed in black and gray camouflage uniform, toting a tricked out SCAR rifle, and vest loaded with magazines and grenades, spotted her.

  She never shot an American soldier, abhorred the thought. But someone dropped a grenade on them. Hampering their pursuers flooded her mind, but only death could stall a Special Forces soldier.

  Moraine aimed her M4 and shot the operator. His head snapped back, blood splattered in a cloudy puff from the back of his helmet. The soldier didn’t scream. He crumbled to the floor in silence and two more stepped over him firing their weapons.

  Moraine turned the corner and fled the scene. She trailed Jenny who regrouped from the blast and ran as straight as she could. They scrambled down a flight of stairs, burst out a first floor door and into dazzling sunlight, dashed across a park lined with wooden benches and entered the building where they fled from earlier.

  “Run, Jenny,” Moraine called.

  Jenny slammed through another door dumping them into the sunlight again. Moraine stayed close. Gunshots rang out. Glass crashed above them. The soldiers fired their rifles from a breezeway windows, aiming for the fleeing targets.

  Moraine pushed herself as Jenny entered another structure. Her footfalls echoed against white walls. A deep crack etched the ceiling, a result of the earthquake.

  Jenny arrived at the hallway’s end, yellow light spilled into the hall. “Moraine, hurry.”

  Moraine pushed ahead, sprinting outside the building. She considered the Labs a giant maze. After working the Labs for a year, the building kept revealing its hidden secrets.

  Jenny stopped at a door with a pushbutton security lock. She pressed several buttons, the door clicked, and the two ran inside the garage. “Robert, get in the truck.”

  Moraine’s lungs tighten from the run. Her thighs burned, adrenalin filled her veins from shooting the first soldier and getting shot at. “Use the tunnel. Too many birds in the air.”

  Jenny jumped into the passenger seat and Robert took the backseat. “We can do that.”

  Robert leaned forward. “How much time before the Labs blows?”

  Moraine didn’t care at the moment. She wanted to escape the high-speed troops in pursuit. She started the Unimog and sent the heavy truck roaring towards the garage tunnel exit.

  Jenny pulled a tiny controller from the top visor and pressed a button. “The door is opening, Moraine.”

  Moraine's mouth cracked as she swerved by parked company trucks and cars. She gunned the big black truck at the tunnel.

  Robert sat back in his seat fumbling with the canvas seatbelt while breathing slow.

  Moraine looked at Jenny as the ground underneath the truck trembled. She glanced at the rearview mirror to see smoke and fire roll behind them in a voluminous red cloud. The self-destruction timer activated the explosive material housed beneath the Labs. She jammed her foot harder on the Unimog gas pedal. The truck shook and the lights to the tunnel flickered out.

  35

  Moraine raced out the tunnel filled with roiling flames. The emergency tube dumped them onto a service road cutting through a wheat field. Behind the truck a red and black cloud rolled into the sky, obscuring the helicopters and swallowing the crumbling structure.

  Moraine tightened her grip on the steering wheel while preparing her mind for more violence. Before them the sun sat fat and lazy above the western horizon as they escaped Livermore.

  Moraine drove in silence until reaching Milpitas. She entered the city littered with scattered cars, trash, and dead bodies. The city spooked her, its emptiness weighing on her thoughts.

  Stray dogs wandered the streets, darting in an out of alleys or lightless unlocked homes.

  Robert slept in back. The ordeal proved more harrowing than expected. She recalled the Lawrence Livermore Labs exploding into a fireball and falling. Her ears still rang from the tremendous blast.

  Moraine headed for the National Guard site hoping to find something useful. She parked on a street crammed with empty cars, shut off the Unimog’s engine, and leaped out prepared for war. Jenny followed, pausing at the carnage.

  The scientist staggered on stiff legs. With a moan she confronted the Humvee tipped over on its roof.

  “Moraine,” she said. Jenny knelt beside Captain Reynolds's moldering body.

  “They fought hard, Jenny.”

  Jenny's shoulders trembled. “It’s okay, Moraine.”

  Moraine drew in the terrible funk of corpses. She refused to stay longer than necessary. “We have to go, Jenny.”

  Jenny delivered a perfunctory nod, but remained by Charles’s corpse. Other bodies lay bloated from the days heat.

  Moraine allowed Jenny time to mourn. She tramped by the grim scene, averting her eyes from her dead comrades.

  She entered the tents first. Each one presented the same images. Cracked bones sucked of marrow, blood, mats of hair, and overturned objects
from sleeping cots, desks and other furniture. Her journey ended at the commanding general’s tent.

  Papers, shattered computers, and a femur picked clean of flesh and gristle decorated the plywood floor. Shredded bloodstained clothing sat in a crumpled pile nearby. She leaned over and plucked a military cap from the flooring. The cap displayed two stars sewn on its center front.

  Moraine tossed the hat aside. A leather motorcycle jacked and matching pants draped on a coat rack caught her attention. She yanked the heavy coat and pants off the rack, holding them high for a better size assessment.

  She surmised they might fit a slight too large, but she considered the leather thick enough to protect her from dog bites.

  Moraine emerged from the tent with both items thrown over her shoulder. She walked out the camp, spotted Jenny in the Unimog passenger seat, her face white and drawn.

  Moraine climbed into the driver’s side, folding her new clothes into a bundle and tossing them behind her.

  Jenny reached for a backpack on the floorboard. She dug inside the bag pulling out a protein bar and bottled water. She opened the water, handed the bottle to Moraine.

  Moraine skirted the question of how Jenny mourned for the dead. She drank her water as the sun crept to the horizon. “You said they were heading to Los Angeles. I think they had enough of fighting humans for the moment.”

  Jenny opened her protein bar package, halved the bar and shared a piece with Moraine. Moraine accepted her part and ate. Jenny chewed while assessing the camp. “They went into the woods to bypass the main roads.”

  “I hope a few people survived.” Moraine started the Unimog and pulled away from the camp.

  Jenny said, “If the dogs got other dogs to throw their masters, it must have been hell.”

  Moraine reclined in the seat, feeling invincible driving the Unimog through the deserted town. “We’ll take the freeway south, past San Jose.”

  “The freeways should be clear.”

  “Damn.”

  Jenny looked at Moraine. “What?”

  Moraine flicked her hand. “I have to save my family from a war I started.”