*
In the middle of fucking nowhere…..
There were a lot of places that could fit that vivid description in Canada. It was a large country with so many locations to hide. Sometimes, hiding between the limitless horizons in Saskatchewan was just what the doctor ordered. If the herd of hostiles was large enough, they would simply have to pack up and get out their way. There was plenty of other work that demanded their attention as well. The rail links had to be checked and rechecked, they had to remain out of service. They were just near Baring on Highway 47, there had been a supply plane that they had met at Kipling and now they were ready to go, time to pluck another apple from the tree, it really was like stealing candy from a baby.
The man who had spoken to Shadowman ran a fat, meaty hand over his close cropped skull. He had the same features as his father and he was proud of it. The work he did these days would have some reward in the future, he was sure of it. For now, it had been fun to just raise hell and be wild. Besides, a smile slashed across his face that was much wider on the inside. A little karma was coming his way, payback was a beautiful thing.
“Okay,” he slapped his clip board for effect. “You all know what to do.”
Some of the men were lounging around, feet up on lawn chairs. They had that casual confidence from easy work. A few of the ones closer by were standing. They nodded slowly and returned the uneven grim facial expression. The assorted vehicles all had their specific tasks. The big Mack truck with its powerful bumper and modified beast of an engine would ram anything off the road. The half tons carried weapons and troops. Motorcycles and fast two doors gave the fleet speed.
“There is a Captain Maggie Hunter in this convoy,” he pretended to be looking at something on his clipboard as he spoke. “If you can’t bring her alive, bring me her head.”
The boys in the lawn chair guffawed and the men who stood around made half smiles and looked at the dirt. The air was calm as the leaves seemed to settle to the ancient earth for a minute, pausing like migrating birds before continuing on their final journey of life. The man looked up and spoke with a voice that made their world pause on its axis.
“I’m fucking serious….”
“If you can’t bring that bitch to me alive, I want her head.” His eyes had an intensity to them that made the guys in the lawn chairs grow cold as they sat up slowly. The men standing around could only remain still and nod carefully.
“Bring me her fucking head in a glass jar.” He had no need to shout, he repeated himself and received all manner of acquiescence from faces that were draining of color. “I want you to bring me her, or bring me her head, understand?”
There was a dark chill in the air now, the perfect serving temperature for revenge.
*
The pack had slowly passed like a prairie storm, the convoy kept a steady pace along the Trans-Canada highway, the land stretched out before them as if it were laid out mathematically. Two dual lane highways separated by a sunken marsh of green. It was a twin linear line to the horizon. Pools of brown water occasionally broke the pattern of weeds, grass and wild flowers in the marshy roadside. There had been more rain than normal this summer. The seasons had worked hard to wash the land clean.
But the bloodstains still remain. Maggie was in the passenger seat with her attention on the rear view mirror. The tires on the eighteen wheeler were laying down a red stained track on the asphalt behind them. How many had they run over? It didn’t matter. She thought of the policemen and felt empty. It was a surreal moment of mortality when his eyes closed. We’ll all have that moment one day.
Fuck, what a thought to have here. I don’t even know how to spell Saskatchewan. The mother and child peaked into her thoughts for a moment and filled her with curiosity. What are they thinking? She looked up at the horizon and tried to change her train of thought. It was like they hadn’t moved an inch in time. The sky stretched on like an infinite blue sea.
She never heard the shot, the reaction was closer.
“Fuck! Oh my god, Fuck!” There was a long pause that must have been sobbing, fear or disbelief. Those emotions could all be painted with the same color. They tended to fill up the senses before flooding over and shocking the system.
“Purdee, is that you?” Maggie had her radio in her hand. She paused before making her request an order; “Purdee! Answer me now!”
“Yes………yes, ma’am.” The voice was lost, louder than it should be.
“Report,” Maggie brought her voice down to within the limits of calm. “What just happened, private?”
“He’s gone,” Purdee blurted out. “They shot him!”
“Private, are you undercover?” Maggie paused and waited for an answer. The sandbags around Purdee’s position gave ample respite from anything incoming. “Take cover, private.”
“Private Purdee. Answer me!”
“Yes!” The breathless reply came a few seconds later. “I’m sorry, I just ……just…..”
“Listen to me, private.” Maggie’s voiced firmed up. It was like re-enforcing a bridge so it could continue to stand. “You need to slow down and tell me what just happened.”
“Yes, ma’am,” The hyperventilating was gone. There were a few moments of deep breathing. The bridge was sturdier now. After a second of silence, Purdee continued: “Sergeant Gyles has just been shot. I……I think he’s dead.”
“Where did the shot come from?” Maggie knew it was a sniper. They were way passed his position now but there could be others. She re-organized the question, trying to create and maintain simplicity in the shocked confusion that Purdee was feeling. “Did the shot come from the driver’s side of the truck or the passenger side?”
“He……..” Purdee paused as she began to pick up the trail of Maggie’s question. “He fell toward the driver’s side.” Carefully Maggie could feel her putting the pieces into place. “The shot came from the passenger side, ma’am.”
“Okay, good call. Have a peak out and look for any signs of movement.” Maggie clicked off her radio and turned to Roe. “I need you to slow down. I have to jump out and get to number five.”
“The rear truck?“ Roe looked around for a second, bewildered. “Why?”
“That’s where they’re coming from.” Maggie checked the safety on her C7A2 and pocketed a few extra clips.
“How do you know that?” Roe’s asked as his right hand reached out for the CB mic in its cradle.
“They shot the rear sentry.” Maggie’s mind was starting a checklist while a slow grimace cut across her face. “They’ve tipped their hand.”
“I don’t see anything, ma’am.” A glimmer of confidence was re-appearing in Purdee’s voice.
“Okay, keep your eyes open.” Maggie prepared to jump out of the cabin as Roe passed the word of a change in speed. “If you see anything other than hostiles, open fire, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have company.” Maggie announced on her radio to the crew in truck five and prepared to crawl over Roe to be on the safe side of the convoy. “Start your checklist.”
*
It was a fucking great car, he always marveled at the power of the motor. His foot revved the accelerator and felt the RPM’s in his bloodstream. Fuck yeah. It was a convertible on top of that. He licked his lips and waited for the order to move. They had watched the five 18 wheeler’s trundle by a minute or two ago. Like any prey, they seemed oblivious to the eyes that were watching.
A few shadows appeared in the fields, they worked their way closer to the dirt road. It was always the same. They moved and paused, sniffing the air and watching what we did next. The path they took was never a straight line. It was a casual series of semi-circles toward their position, careful and calculated, the cruel mathematics and geometry of the hunt for fresh meat.
“Should I waste ‘em?” The man behind the wheel turned to his buddy who had spoken. Devo was a bad ass, his beard grew in patches and bright eyes seemed to
dart about like he was always in the mood for a thrill. The man smiled and nodded his approval.
A woman in her early forties, streaked black hair with men’s pajamas and a huge stain of red that had leaked from her throat paused just twenty yards away. Her eyes flared as she started to amble in his direction. Devo seemed to enjoy the few seconds it took while she came closer. As the distance between them lessened, the man behind the wheel noticed that her left arm withered into a stump. There was no blood. It seemed she had always been that way. The mouth dropped open to reveal teeth arranged in a hodge podge fashion. Some parts had gaps. Some blackened gaping holes amid grey gums, a few still pearl white.
Devo smirked and pulled the trigger of a .45 caliber handgun he’d slipped out from his waist band. There were a few loud reports that faded quickly. There was no echo, the sky seemed to swallow the gunshots whole. The woman’s head snapped back as if stricken by a seizure. She landed flat on the asphalt highway. Behind her body, a neat hole had appeared in the side of a half-ton cargo bay.
“What the fuck!” Someone complained. A pack mind chorus of derisive laughter rose in reply. Devo licked the barrel of his gun and winked at the driver. Fuck yeah.
Suddenly, in a diesel cloudburst came man-made thunder. The massive engine of the dump truck roared to life, spitting black smoke in the air. It revved a second time for the sheer power of it all. Somewhere, a window rolled down and a fist pumped twice in the air and pointed forwards. It was time.
Fuck yeah…….
*
Maggie had guessed that the snipers could be from the north. For once, it was great to be short. She was able to climb over Roe and slip out his side of the truck gear and all. The massive monsters were moving slowly now. Still, it was one hell of a drop as she rolled away into grassy divider between east and west. She gave a thumbs up to Roe as he passed and she started to move, staying low. In the corner of her eye, Maggie saw Purdee pivot the machine gun for cover. When she reached the fifth truck, Maggie jumped on the running board and hauled herself up on to the roof using handholds. She slithered along the length of the trailer. Gyles body was sprawled at the back, near the hatchway. He was lying on his stomach with his right arm dangling over the edge at the elbow. The stain of blood was enough to confirm he was dead. Maggie didn’t dare look at his face, it had been a headshot.
Aren’t you supposed to be feeling something right now? It was a moment of hesitation that made her feel hollow inside. You put him here. Maggie tried to drown out the internal self-mutilation by noise. Her fist smacked the hatchway.
“It’s me, Hunter,” The lock scraped open from the inside. Her left hand reached over and flipped back the hatch. The truck shimmied slightly and a puddle of Gyles’ blood stained her uniform at the cuffs. “I’m coming down.”
Maggie felt herself grunt with satisfaction like a proud mama bear. They were doing what she wanted them to do, what she expected them to. Dimitrou had set up the weapon he was going to crew with Doan. Belts of ammunition were laid about in an almost meticulous pattern. Trenton was checking and rechecking his aging weapon. Maggie knew he had personally gone over the ammunition himself. Doan and Chevalier were peering out of the gun slits in the rear door of the truck.
“Okay, Private Doan.” Maggie had her orders voice on. This was all more than a live fire exercise now. “Do we have targets?”
Doan hurriedly turned to Maggie and fumbled his words for a second. He then paused for a breath and tried to re-articulate. It was then that Maggie reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Private, you’re going to do all right.” She looked up and gave him a hard smile. “I should know. I fuckin’ trained you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You will pivot from right to left in a slow arc, taking out targets of opportunity.” It was an odd way to tell someone they were going to kill people. But there it was, Maggie continued: “I will cover you’re left when you are firing right.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Doan was suddenly by Trenton’s side. Dimitrou gave him a nod and Doan took a deep breath.
“Private Chevalier, I want your first target to be the big one.” Maggie had to stand on her tip toes to look out the gun slit. Damnit, I hate that. She ignored the inferiority jab from inside.
“Yes, ma’am,” Chevalier almost grinned in pure adrenaline rush. She had been thinking the exact same thing.
“Roe to Hunter,” It was the radio.
“Here,” Maggie swiped her radio up into her right hand.
“I gather you’ve seen our company closing from behind.” Roe continued in an amazingly calm tone. “We are now back to doing sixty clicks. Shall we try for a bit more and out run them?”
“Absolutely not, Mr. Roe,” Maggie ordered. “I want us to maintain speed. Let’s look as helpless as we can. “
“You got it.”
“Let’s not spoil the surprise.” Maggie suddenly was aware of an expanding grin on her face. She felt like the grim reaper and didn’t care. As Maggie passed by Doan she slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go pick a fight, Mr. Doan.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice had a new found grit and confidence as he pulled the bolt of his weapon back.
Maggie nodded to Trenton, his brown eyes registered understanding and he reached up to a chain that dangled above his head, slowly swaying with the rhythm of a snake under the thrall of a charmer. In position, Maggie clicked off the safety of her C7A2 and raised her hand and let it fall. Come and get it, boys.
The rear of the truck rolled upwards like a garage door. Maggie and her crew had the advantage in surprise, real surprise. The vehicles were a random collection of trucks, pretty boy fast cars and motor cycles. The big one, Maggie had called it, was the closest. The driver and passenger had wry, sardonic looks on their faces until the garage door hit the ceiling. Stupefaction spread across their emotions like a stain, the passengers’ mouth even dropped open.
It was weird. They had not even bothered to disguise what they were up to. The plan was obviously simple, run the trucks off the road one by one with the dump truck and the rest of the fleet would swarm around the wrecks. You guys never thought something like this would happen? Maggie had that feeling, chess masters knew it well. A move here and there, the opponent would abruptly look up into cold eyes as defeat started spreading about the board.
Checkmate, mother fucker.
Chevalier shouldered the 1950’s model bazooka and got the double slap on her back from Trenton who had taken up position behind her. Chevalier closed her eyes and pulled the huge trigger. There was a pause before a sound of a waterfall roared past her ears. The air suddenly stank of gun powder and a few other chemical smells that brought her back to grade 7 science class. She opened her eyes and almost cried out in amazement.
“Reload!” She heard herself scream. But Trenton was already on it.
The recoil of the rocket forced her aim to be high. Chevalier was hoping for a direct hit on the engine. Instead, the rocket skimmed the top of the hood and crashed through the windshield on the passenger side. A bazooka rocket was designed for soft armored vehicles. The whole idea was for the projectile to penetrate the armor before exploding inside. The missile crashed through the glass and caught the guy riding shotgun in his chest. The combination of his skin, bones and the metal in his seat was enough to force detonation. The cabin became a wall of fire that shattered the passenger and driver windows like fine china. The driver had his body blown into the side door. His arms jerked the wheel into a tight turn at 120 kilometers an hour. What happened next was easy physics. The tires rotated quickly to the right and the massive monster’s center of gravity vanished. As the cab became a nebulous display of fire and black smoke the dump truck reared up on two wheels and careened. The front tire passed through a motorcycle and its sidecar. Metal and skin were flattened together with an expulsion on all sides of oil, rubber and blood.
The speed of the beast slowed as the huge wheels left the ground and became air
born. The driver and his companion had been splashed to the wind by the bazooka shell. They did not experience the sickening gut punch of falling as the monster flipped over. The drivers following close behind in pick-up trucks and convertibles did not have that luxury.
If someone had been watching westward a half kilometer to the east they would have heard an explosion. An expanding cloud of blackness would be enveloped by a larger grey fog of sand, dirt and debris. Suddenly, twin lights of red began to appear as cars and trucks heading west slammed on their brakes. They looked like doomed stars being sucked into a vortex of destruction.
The grey cloud seemed to take on a life of its own as it crossed the edges of the asphalt and invaded the uneven earth on either side of the Trans-Canada highway. Inside the expanding nebula, the red lights disappeared, swallowed into the dustbowl. At times they were replaced by fiery geysers and burning debris that flew in all directions. Shocked, smoking forms emerged from the wreckage to stagger amid the grey fog before being hit by swerving, desperate machines.
Devo saw his CO appear in the smoke and carnage for an instant before he was run over. His body flew under the wheels as the convertible reared up and slammed them back to earth. Through it all Devo was watching his CO’s helmet tumbling through the air like a soccer ball during a corner kick. He could hear himself yelling, others were making noise that faded into the dust like the bass beat from a passing car. A roar from behind and to his right caught his attention. A massive one ton yellow pick-up pulled over to the side of the highway and passed at full throttle. Three forms in the back huddled together, their weapons were held tightly in fear and surprise. Devo watched them pass by as the fog of destruction began to clear.
*
“Give ‘em hell, Mr. Doan!” Maggie’s voice was loud and angry as she climbed the ladder to the roof. “Fire!”
5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors Page 24