The End of the Beginning

by Eichholz, Zachary

  “Copy, sir.”

  Amidst bare and blackened concrete walls, the bank lobby was filled with fallen ceiling bits and burned furniture. A huge square section of the doorframe leading from the lobby into the building was filled with rubble, blocking their way to the vault. At the top of the rubble was a gap a few inches wide but it was to high for anyone to see through.

  “Mambiri, you got anything for me that can see through that gap?” asked William, shining his LED earpiece.

  “Oh yeah, Bossman. I got you. Look at this thing. They call it, the spaghetti camera.”

  Simba pulled out a box small enough to hold in one's hand that had wiring wrapped around hooks. He unraveled the wiring and flipped a tiny screen up from the box, then put the end of the wire onto the fallen ceiling section, to which it stuck. Fully unwound, the wire was about twelve feet long and about a half an inch wide.

  “Watch this, Bossman.”

  Upon contact with the concrete the cylindrical end of the wire began crawling up it, weaving like a centipede until it reached the tiny gap. Soon it was out of sight, behind the rubble.

  “What you got for me, Mambiri? What do you see?”

  “I got visuals, Bossman. This thing has a camera the size of a pea at its two ends. Switching over to group vid.” On everyone's glass tablets appeared an HD video of what the camera was seeing through its lens; the vault, sealed and intact. “You seeing that Bossman?”

  “Yes, I do,” smiled William. He quickly radioed the others with confidence. “This is Buddy Team 1, we have visual on the vault. Buddy Teams 5 and 6 fall back to the lobby now. We need assistance. Pathway to vault is blocked by heavy debris.”

  The teams radio back, “Copy.”

  “It’s right there, Boss, the camera says seven feet. Blast through?”

  “No, too close. We can't risk collapse from a charge to blow this. It would be too big for this weakened structure to handle.”

  An aftershock simulated by the shake table the building was built on rustled the two men’s feet. Pipes banged and sparks flew.

  “Get down, Mambiri! Get down! All buddy teams take cover!”

  William had never been in an earthquake before and he was pretty sure Simba never had either so the experience was very disorienting, even if it was fake. Seconds later, it ended.

  “Everyone okay?” William asked over the radio. “Give me a head count.”

  All his buddy teams radioed back. All were okay. DJ, Dao, Heather, and Mario arrived, taking off their backpacks as they did, ready for more orders. William informed them of the obstacle.

  “It’s at least a two feet thick and we can't blow through it. Options?”

  DJ took out a protective plastic case, the kind that protect something really important with bumpy foam padding inside, and laid it out on the floor.

  “What's that?” asked William.

  “Oh that! Boss, you're gonna love it. We found this when we were going through our supply list. Open it, Pate!”

  “Hold on a sec, it's kinda heavy,” he grumbled.

  DJ finally got the case open. Seeing what was inside William grinned. “Now that's what I’m talking about.”

  CHAPTER 44: Breaking Through

  Taking two people to operate, William and Mario lifted a ninety pound rescue device called the Controlled Impact Rescue Tool from the case and held it up to the concrete. It had a black oval cylindrical body the size of a fire extinguisher. A black and yellow striped hexagonal safety cage surrounded it. Inside was a barrel that fired specially built ammunition into whatever it was up against, ramming right through it by creating shockwaves, even in reinforced concrete. With both of them holding on to two of its four yellow circular handles, Mario and William lined the devices laser pointer up and braced themselves.

  “This will kick,” Mario said anxiously.

  “Time check, Miller?”

  “Six minutes, Captain.”

  “Bossman, it takes two minutes max to plow through. We got this. It fires twenty rounds a minute. Big rounds.”

  “So it’s no M16?”

  “No, Boss. More like the biggest shotgun you've ever had,” laughed Simba. “Slow and steady wins.”

  “Ready, Mario?” William asked, holding the device with his straining arms.

  “Ready, sir,” Mario gritted.

  “Fire!”

  Mario pulled the trigger. The impact announced its power with burst of dust and fines, kicking the two men holding it. Both of them groaned with each impact. Before long, they were covered in white dust and dirty gray sweat beads. Simba continued to monitor the impactors progress with his spaghetti camera on the other side.

  “Almost through, Boss. Just a few more shots!”

  “Come on, Niccolo, come on!” encouraged William.

  His arms hurt more and more with each impact, the shockwaves moving up his arms and into his head. Eyes watering, mouth dry, and muscles shot, they broke through when a person sized hole crumbled before the machine; its laser shining onto the floor beyond.

  “We’re in! Pate, Phillips, Jinping, go! Secure the vault,” William ordered.

  William and Mario put down their new favorite tool and got ready to enter the new hole after the other three rescuers. Packs in first, they swung themselves in one leg at a time and then ran to the vault. With light feeble at best, DJ put his smart glove to the vault door.

  “My glove is sensing movement inside, and noise… talking.”

  “Mine says the same thing,” said Dao.

  William caught up to everyone. “What we got?”

  “Gloves are indicating civilians are definitely inside. Picking up at least ten different voices,” informed Dao.

  “Good. Can you open it, Jinping?”

  “Yes, sir, I think so. The lock still has power. Backup generator.”

  “Do it! Miller?”

  “One minute, sir.”

  Dao was fiddling with the digital locking control console, which was cracked and flickering.

  “Any time, Jinping,” hurried Heather.

  Despite the time crunch Dao was calm. “Almost there.”

  Less than thirty seconds were left but Dao was in complete control of his focus and plugged away.

  “Twenty seconds!”

  “Rescue Officer Jinping, can you do this?”

  “Yes Captain, but how about less distractions and more light, with respect.”

  William stepped back, beamed his LED earpiece atop Dao’s hands, and let his rescue officer do his work. He trusted him; he trusted all of them. Dao knew computers; in another life he was a systems analyst working for the Beijing government.

  “Got it,” Dao said plainly, as if he had done nothing amazing.

  “Get it open, come on! Everyone pull.”

  All of them grabbed the vault’s door handles and slowly opened it with much pain to their vocal cords as groaning seemed to help them open it faster. Wasting no time, William took his hands from the vault door and shined his head mounted LED into the vault. He counted twelve people. Heather rushed in to treat injuries. A few actors inside were standing; others were sitting in fake blood pools. Fake or not, all of them were happy to see William’s team.

  “This is Emerson to all UNIRO personnel, we have twelve people accounted for in the vault. Does anyone have the thirteenth?”

  No one answered.

  DJ looked at his watch. “It's time, sir. I think we are thirty seconds over, now.”

  Collectively they all sighed. Mario fell in exhaustion against the vault wall. “All that for nothing,” he said sadly.

  Hansen was going to walk in any second and rip them, destroying the hope of the day. But, as they all seemed to fall at once there was a rise on the radio. Crackles and spits came through.

  “Th… em… 2”

  “Hello?!” William shouted, pressing his earpiece in.

  “...repa… is Buddy Tea… 2. Captain, do you re… we have the…”

  “Hello? I do not copy. You’re coming
in weak. Say again, over.”

  The crackles and spits cleared and Vega’s voice came through finally. “This is Buddy Team 2, we have the thirteenth civilian. They’re okay. I repeat we have the thirteenth civilian.”

  “Sergeant Horbert, is that you?”

  “Yes, we have the thirteenth civilian! We found them with a minute to spare but the radio did not work.”

  “Excellent, Sergeant! Great work. Get them down here for medical attention!” They all cheered, even the actors. They had passed.

  “Yes, Boss! Yes! Yes! I told you we were awesome. Oh my God I have the best job in the world.”

  “Yeah, Captain, good job,” said Mario, rubbing his arms on the floor, “but I don't want to use that machine again for a few days. A beach and a few glasses of white wine would be a nice replacement. That will give you a kick, too, just one that doesn’t hurt as much.”

  Accomplishment shook them like the hypothetical earthquake that destroyed the building they were in. It moved them all and rearranged them further into a team. Strident lighting came on overhead inside the bank and a buzzer went off to indicate the test was over.

  Over the radio came Major Hansen, “All squadrons return to the trucks for immediate debriefing, now! All actors return to your original locations and reset!”

  The bank vault actors fussed back into their places with one saying, “He's such an ass sometimes.”

  William heard that and turned, “Don’t worry, we think so, too.”

  Shampoo suddenly rushed in wagging her tail. Amanda was close behind. Shampoo was holding something in her mouth like a toy. She sat down and placed the object in front of William.

  “Miller, please tell me Shampoo found the thirteenth civilian.”

  “No, Captain, she found that,” said Amanda, pointing to the object Shampoo had had in her mouth. It was a charred shoe.

  “Crap,” muttered William.

  “Are we going to call her shoe now?” joked Simba.

  “I’ll work on her, Captain, don’t worry. She seems to find things related to humans at least, just never… humans.”

  Shampoo looked up at William with wide brown eyes and gave a playful bark.

  William rolled his eyes at the dog. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  CHAPTER 45: Let’s Do Something Fun

  Nightfall. Disaster scenario trainings were done for the day. William’s team passed every one of their six sessions. A few were close calls, like their first scenario, but they passed. Like their first ever physical training day, they were bruised, bloody, dirty, and tired but they did not care because they had beaten it all. And, it had allowed them to at least for a little while forget about the void left in their team, Samir.

  Dinner that night is when the realization again hit them all that they were down a man. Seeing his teams confusion and distraction over the subject throughout dinner William knew he could not withhold information from than any longer. They had a right to know what had happened to one of their own. Samir had wanted his death to have meaning and staying quiet about it wasn’t helping that hope at all.

  After they had all finished their meals and were sipping tea and energy drinks, William told them all about Samir and his death the week before.

  “So he did not struggle when you tackled him?” asked Abeo.

  “No, he became… calm, relaxed,” William said in a low voice.

  “All that stuff he said before he jumped is creepy, if you ask me,” said Amanda.

  “It was strange,” agreed William. “I don't know when we will get a new team member but it will be soon. Probably by next week, after all of our interviews with ISAF are complete. They should start tomorrow for everyone.”

  “Who will they be with?” asked Abeo.

  “Chief of Security Patrick Hernandez.”

  Abeo nodded.

  “Sounds like he wanted your help, Captain,” inferred Vega. “A man that asks for help before his death is a man who knows he will never find it. Maybe that's why he asked you, so you could find it for him.”

  “The they stuff is kinda eerie,” said Gaspard. “Any idea Captain on who the they are?”

  William shook his head. He didn’t want to fear monger. “None,” he lied.

  No one looked around for a while. They just drank their beverages, thinking, trying to imagine what had happened as if they had been there.

  “I wish I could have known him better Boss. I didn't even get the chance.”

  “I know, Mambiri,” said William, putting a hand on Simba’s shoulder, who was sitting next to him. “I know. Me too. If anyone wants to talk about it ever or just talk about anything you can come to me or go to the bases counseling services. Talk amongst yourselves, help each other out.”

  Vinny put down his cup. “Someone's got to talk to Sergey about it. He was upset after we finished training today. He stormed off as soon as he could. Can't really blame the kid, can you?”

  “I will, Mckay,” promised William.

  “I figured but, maybe… you know, if you ever need someone to help you talk about it… Or, or with him or anyone - ”

  “I know, Mckay,” smiled William, seeing everyone else nodding with Vinny offer. “I know guys. Thank you. Good job today. All of you, good job, really, especially with a man down and all. Get some sleep tonight. Jinping. No more tea. It keeps you up.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dao said, revealing a tiny smile only he could, showing his tea-stained teeth.

  “Eh, lets celebrate today but with a real dinner,” suggested Vinny. “With real food to,” he added. “Tomorrow night, after classes? What do we think? I can go get some real meaty steaks off base. I miss those.”

  “Oh man, steaks, that sounds fantastic,” agreed William.

  “Can’t forget a movie,” chimed Paul.

  “Or the popcorn,” said Amanda. “I’m a vegetarian…”

  “Or the games,” said Mario.

  “I know a game,” said Vega, a hint of something near delight in her voice. “My place. Twenty hundred hours.”

  Vinny slammed his palm on the table. “Done!”

  CHAPTER 46: A Bird with No Reason To Fly

  Wang Jun sat by his ailing son’s bedside all night, listening to him cough. With every wheeze, Jun cried a little more. There was nothing he could do for his eight year old boy. The very city they lived in was poising him slowly and painfully.

  Beijing was a death trap and no one was safe from it anymore. Years of vehicle bans, coal plant closings, and even weather manipulation had done little to stop the ever-present smog. The city was lost in a deadly soup that slowly killed all who dwelled within it. Fine particulate matter, heavy metals, carcinogens, toxic gases. All of these were inside Jun’s sons coughing, aching body.

  As the sun started to illuminate the gray haze outside their apartment’s window in the early morning Jun finally slept. It was only for twenty minutes though. He was awakened by the alarming screams of his son. He grasped his chest, saying there was an animal inside of it, that it was scratching his lungs. His son started to cry, which made Jun cry again.

  Those damn factories. Those damn companies. Those damned so-called leaders. They were letting their nations people, their nations children, be gassed to death. Decades of this and no change. How could they say they were a government for the people? Jun had served them tirelessly as a pilot in the Peoples Liberation Army Air Force. He flew their surveillance flights over the Americans. He flew their combat missions over Korea. He tested their new aircraft. And what did they give him in return, the agony of watching his son die a premature death. He was only eight for God’s sake.

  Jun’s wife came into the bedroom and took their son into the kitchen so that she could give him some useless medicine. Before she did though Jun wiped his son’s mouth. When he looked at the tissue it was covered in blood. Overcome with grief, Jun stepped out onto their apartments balcony seventeen stories up. It was set amongst hundreds of other units in the overcrowded, poorly built high-rise. T
he view would have been fantastic was it not always obscured by gaseous human garbage.

  Jun sat down in a white plastic chair. He began drinking a flat beer. After a few sips he threw the glass bottle with all his anger off the balcony and watched it disappear into the haze.

  “Serve the people,” said a firm voice from above.

  Jun got out of his chair and looked in the direction of the voice. One balcony up and over was a man dressed in a tight black turtleneck and black cargo pants. Over that he was wearing a black trench coat. On his left leg was a thigh holster. A gun was in it. Jun knew this man was no good. Firearms were strictly regulated in China. If found in the hands of a private citizen the punishment could be severe. But, this man did not look to be a citizen of China.

  “Serve the people,” the man said again, casually this time. He spoke fluent Mandarin but his accent was western, as were his looks. He was crouching on his respective balconies hand railing.

  “Who are you?” asked Jun.

  “That’s your military’s motto isn’t it? Serve. The. People.”

  “It is,” said Jun, backing towards his own balconies sliding glass door. A kitchen knife that his wife had left on a dresser was just inside the door.

  The man laughed and said, “Yet another lie spit forth by this nation. Just one of many lies spit forth by all nations. Tell me, have they helped you and your son since he developed emphysema? Has he been allowed the best for one of their best? Judging by the sound of him coughing in there I don’t think they have. I would think one of this nations greatest pilots would surely deserve more. The Shenyang FC-31 isn’t it?”

  “How do you know who I am?” asked Jun. He had almost reached the balcony door.

  “Don’t reach for the knife, Major Wang Jun. We have the place surrounded,” the man said, waving his hand. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you or your family. I’m here for quite the opposite reason actually. I’m here to save you and your family.”

  Jun stopped moving. His suspicions eased. Somehow, the man, his tone of voice, began to calm Jun. “How?” he asked.