It was an old fifty caliber machine gun from the seventies. But Doan and Dimitrou had lovingly oiled and restored it. It responded to the attention like a Doberman in a junk yard. The machine gun shuddered in Doan’s arms as he played the barrel from right to left. It created a hailstorm of steel that stained the highway with another layer of shock. A half ton truck had at least a dozen shells penetrate the engine block and sever the gas line. A whoooosh precipitated tongues of fire enveloping the cab, the effect would have shocked him had Doan had time to watch. But a convertible appeared on the left. It was jet black like the bat-mobile with two men in the back and another two in front. As it cleared the carnage and grit, a figure rose up in the back seat just as Doans’ field of fire past over them.
*
The windshield suddenly became multiple spider webs in front of Devo. He heard an expulsion of breath in the back seat as the body of a man crumpled, he heard him wheezing out his last breath while the smell of blood filled his nostrils. He felt trance-like, even phantasmagorical. Devo was suddenly aware of his heart beat as his left hand reached up and found a spreading stain on his right shoulder. It didn’t hurt, it was just……curious, that’s all.
He turned to his buddy behind the wheel and tried to speak. Noise and fear returned like a train rushing past his life. The driver’s eyes were wide open and staring at the sky. A fifty caliber shell had struck his left cheek bone and obliterated the side of his skull. Droplets of blood were carried away by the speed of the vehicle as bits of cartilage and muscle swayed in the wind. At death, the driver’s feet had slammed hard on the accelerator. The wheel was beginning to take on a mind of its own. Devo pushed through the rising panic and reached for it. There was a sound underneath the car to the right. The tires had found the soft earth at the side of the road.
The ditch came upon them so quickly. It was a depression of just a few feet, enough to ease running water away from the highway, just enough for the right wheels to leave the ground. Devo’s hard pull on the steering column only hastened the black machine’s destruction. He felt his body compress tightly to the ground as the convertible flipped over, then Devo felt like he was flying toward darkness and nothingness.
*
Maggie saw the yellow one ton accelerate, spewing a cloud of diesel as its large wheels dug into the soft earth in an effort to keep up. She was lying on her stomach against the roof as they passed by a few meters away. Her head popped up like a mole from a lair. The three men in the rear saw her and opened up. From where she was, they would have needed to be experts to even come close to hitting her, they blazed away in the swaying cargo hold nonetheless.
Grenades didn’t have to be that accurate. Maggie counted down the fuse and tossed two in their direction before ducking back down. The double boom was a few seconds later. Maggie peered over the metal edge to see the yellow truck stationary in the receding distance by the side of the road. The driver was the lone survivor. He had crawled out of the cab and was on his hands and knees, making slow progress across the grass.
Maggie saw a jeep four wheel drive with its’ top down to her left come piling across the uneven fields and ditches. There was one report, then a second and a third, she peered ahead and saw Gurpreet leaning out of the passenger window of truck one, taking careful aim. The driver side of the jeep windshield starred multiple times and the straight path of the vehicle weaved abruptly. The speed picked up, a torso became visible from the back seat with arms desperately reaching for the wheel. An apple tree appeared in the jeeps path and the collision crushed the engine compartment and sent the man in the back seat through the windshield. The airbags deployed on the two bodies in the front seat and the horn opened up. It was like the wail of a lonely train crying in the distance.
Maggie’s vision did a slow pivot across the destruction that was quickly fading from view, black smoke was billowing up from a spreading fire, dust and dirt had created a thick fog that hung close to the ground like early morning dew. Still, a few more machines tried to keep up. They were weaving cautiously now.
Whatever they want, Maggie reflected. They must want it bad.
A second one ton, grey this time appeared behind them. The men in the cargo bay were firing blindly, harassing fire to prevent being sighted. Maggie lined up the figure in the center of the cargo bay and fired off a three second burst. He threw up his hands and his weapon spun away into space. The two others froze in shock and exchanged terrified looks. It was just a few seconds. But it was all Chevalier needed.
A tongue of flame roared out from the rear of tractor trailer five toward the pursuer. Maggie felt the world slow for a second as the one ton seemed to freeze in time at the approaching fire. At the last second, the wheels of the prey began to turn, as if the catharsis of fear had thawed away, a final moment of clarity for the living.
Impact…….
It was like a magician’s trick. Sudden fire ballooned from the grill where the missile pierced and entered the engine compartment. A second later, a thunderclap was the harbinger of another explosion, louder and deeper this time. Fire and black smoke enveloped the machine as pieces were launched skyward like roman candles. They twisted in the air like mayflies, riding the flaming spark of a brief life before plummeting back to the hard, unforgiving earth.
What appeared through the flaming brimstone couldn’t have possibly been the same vehicle. The engine compartment was gone, the tires had been replaced by spinning pinwheels of fire and a skeleton of steel was in stark contrast to what had occupied this space a second before. The tinted windshield was now a memory, the cabin lay exposed and the driver had been magically transformed into a blackened husk. His teeth had become prominent with his burning skin peeling back at the lips. The hands had been completely severed. The fingers were still compressed around the melting hard plastic of the steering wheel, the machine slowly ground to a halt. The tires began sinking in to the melting asphalt.
A flash of red maneuvered to Maggie’s right and appeared at a median cross over. Someone was showing initiative, a cloud of smoke belched out of the vertical truck mufflers and the pedal was clearly on the metal. The red full ton swerved twice to avoid scattered, decaying carcasses of steel before making progress in catching up. There were at least two men in the back holding on to a roll bar. Maggie was on the radio.
“Private Purdee…..”
“I see them, ma’am.” The reply was almost a completion of her sentence. “Seven o’clock, I have them.”
Maggie patted herself on the back for placing Purdee among a circular collection of sandbags on top of the transport trailer of truck number one. The position provided ample visibility and concealment. Purdee was smaller than Doan and Chevalier. Her firearm would need to account for that. The HK Heckler and Koch MG5 machine gun that Davidson had dug up for them was a god send. It was lightweight and easy to move. Purdee quickly was able to steady the weapon on the sandbags and sight down her target. Despite its’ 7.62 mm x 50 Caliber firepower, the HK MG5 also had very little kick back thanks to a special buffer on the stock. It had the accuracy of a sniper rifle that could produce a metal hailstorm.
The full ton thought they were in the clear. They had driven past the firing arc of Doan’s machine gun. Now, the two men in the back began to steady themselves as they began to pull alongside truck number five on the other side of the highway. Purdee still had time and she knew it. This was a process of mind, metalwork and mathematics. She calculated a position the full ton would occupy in a second. Purdee peered through the scope for confirmation, inhaled slowly and squeezed the cold metal trigger.
There was no need to walk the firing line toward the target. The scope had made such gunnery obsolete. The first sign that the full ton’s luck had changed was when three shells crashed through the passenger window. The man who had been in the shotgun seat had one shell pass through his neck, exit into the rear cabin window and pierce a man’s breastbone who had been riding in the back.
The driver had only se
conds to live when he turned to his companion in shock. A clip of 7.62 shells starred the windshield and stitched an almost perfect sewing machine line across his chest. The surgical slash almost cut him in two. His last thought was one of incredulity. He had no idea death could be so quiet. It felt like an instant of solitude that would take him to forever. As the driver’s eyes began to close, he observed an almost perfect hole in the palm of his hand.
The wheel of the truck grew lazy and began to swerve. Balance became lost and it started to roll, at first looking like a clumsy animal caught on uneven ground. The hood flew open and slammed into the already broken windshield. The cargo area threw what it had stored back there skyward. A body spun end over end before disappearing in the tall grass. The truck was turning over and over now. Parts and pieces flew skyward like errant bits of fire from a sparkler. The red full ton became lost in a blur, like a turbine spinning at high speed. Physics and gravity began to slow and eventually halt the proceedings. The full ton’s cabin was half crushed as the truck came to rest on the road upside down. A whisper of pale smoke rose skyward in the silence.
“We have a new contact at 12 o’clock.” The radio announced. It was Gurpreet. His calmness was almost surreal in this situation. Purdee turned around, saw it and went cold.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her mouth worked off excess adrenalin as she stood up and began to turn the machine gun around. There was that slow motion sensation that she might be a second too late.
It was a flatbed truck that had been lying in wait among scrub brush and a road sign. The cabin appeared first and then the flatbed emerged with the largest weapon Purdee had ever seen. It had a massive barrel with a second crew mate whose job was to prevent jamming. The feeder belt that snaked from the barrel down to a large metal box had shells in it that were the size of small coke bottles.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,…….”
A thudding noise to her lower right told Purdee that Gurpreet was already firing. Despite their distance, starlight speckles danced about the flat bed cargo area. One of the rear tires exploded after multiple hits and the truck became less than horizontal. It sagged at an angle that jerked the barrel of the 14.5 x 114 mm cannon skyward for a second, the roar of its discharge made Purdee shudder. As soon as the HK was in place, she squeezed the trigger.
The extended burst went high. But it was close enough to make the crew on the flatbed duck uncontrollably. The extra few seconds gave Purdee a chance to pull the weapon up tight. She aimed straight for the gunner and slowly began to move the barrel to the right. It felt odd killing people you did not know. She watched the man aiming the weapon drop his jaw in astonishment as his chest sprouted shot glass sized crimson flowers. His hands fell away from the trigger mechanism and paused in midair as if lost in thought or confusion. He fell backwards out of the gunnery seat like a sandbag that had shifted its weight. The feeder had a brief second of panic and self-preservation when he saw the gunner collapse. One second he was standing up to find cover or jump off the flatbed. The next, his right arm was flailing around as a fist sized section of his skull had disappeared in a crimson cloud.
Gurpreet had shifted his fire to the cabin of the flatbed. The driver’s weapon fell away from his hands and he began twisting around in the cabin under his seatbelt like a worm caught on a fishing hook. His left hand pounded the steering wheel in an uneven cadence. The horn sounded like the pulse of a man bleeding to death. The noise began to slow in tempo and eventually died away. The barrel of the huge gun rose to the sky in forlorn surrender.
*
Maggie scanned the area slowly for any other threats. The dump truck was receding quickly as they drove on. A column of black smoke rose into the sky in an almost perfect cone. Fires had broken out on a few other vehicles nearby. They seemed to rise like spectral companions of the main blaze. Smaller accomplices hovering close by against the now blue tapestry.
Maggie watched the grass come to life and begin to crawl. Figures cursed and misshapen appeared on the road around the steady cone of black smoke.
Them……
How do they do that? She wondered. Was it camouflage or trick of light? They rose out of the tall grass and took uneven steps forward. There was no pause here to gather and assess the prey. Those trapped in the vehicles, lying shocked or dying by the side of the road were helpless, easy meat for a ravenous hunger. Maggie felt her mouth go dry. Every battle we fight, they wait until the end to collect their due.
They must love it when we do this to each other……..
*
Devo lay on his back in the field watching the clouds pass by. Some were like dragons, others danced slowly and shape-shifted from one creature to another as they made their way across the aquamarine sky. The slight tendrils that drifted away from the main part of the cumulus body were the most beautiful thing to watch. They were delicate, almost transparent. Like the tentacles of jellyfish floating in a perfect sea.
A body was close by. It was crumpled into an odd shape from the force of the impact with a large stone. The arms alone were bent into an almost impossible angle. Just his luck I guess, Devo felt a smile twist across his mouth. The face was turned away but the clothes on the man looked familiar. The world was still wavering back and forth in front of his eyes, the only thing he could see clearly were the clouds. Devo knew if he tried to move he was sure it was going to hurt.
The black convertible had somehow landed upright. The driver’s door hung open and seemed to be dangling by a single screw, the sleek front was now crumpled metal. He’d read somewhere they were supposed to do that to cushion the impact of collision. He tried to sit up on his elbows and his breath left his lungs. IT DID HURT. It was an electrical shock that sliced up his spine, his teeth came together and he hissed. Gingerly, he let his body settle back among the wild grass and mud. The pain subsided. It was like an animal now, waiting for his next move to strike again. Devo tried to guess what might be broken, fractured or bruised. After a second or two he gave up. His eyes were starting to stabilize a bit. He slowly turned his head to the left.
She had been watching him for some time. A little girl who had to be about eight with a full face and a mouth that was well at home with a smile. She had healthy cheeks, a short haircut with cute bangs and a flowery, summer dress. Devo half expected her to curtsy, a curious child in search of a wonderland rabbit hole for a day of adventure. The edges of her mouth turned upward as Devo watched her eyes lower and nod at something in the grass.
He was a boy the same age as her, His arms had been eaten away, all that was left were now furious working nubs of bone at his shoulders. He slithered through the grass like a snake, his mouth opened wide in expectation as he closed in with unnatural speed. The smell of Devo made the boy’s mouth water. His teeth found the fleshy part of Devo’s thigh and a scream was in the air, his back arched and the electric shock up his spine blinded him with agony. The boy bit a second time and writhed across Devo up to his pelvis.
When he could see again, the girl’s face was close to his. She had a gentle smile that made him think of Mona Lisa. When she leaned closer, Devo had the bizarre thought that she was going to kiss him goodbye. Instead, her teeth flashed for a second before burrowing into his throat. The last thing he saw was a huge splash of crimson cascade into the air like a fountain. The pain was gone now. The world was dreamlike as he felt himself slip away.
*
“Why are we slowing down?” Maggie had the radio in her hand as the transport trailer she was standing on shuddered at the application of the brakes.
“Hold your fire.” The voice was Roe’s. “She is not one of those things, hold your fire.”
“Who?” Maggie shouted into the radio. Damn it, we can’t stop. Her emotions passed through anger and settled into vulnerability. “Why are we slowing down?”
“Captain Hunter, we need you up front.” Roe was trying to sound calm. The edges of his voice were cracking. “Again, do not open fire.”
Maggie was down
the hatchway and out the back of transport number five in a hurry. Everything had come to a dead stop now. The silence settled over the scenery, it was one of those afternoons in the middle of nowhere. Crickets would be chirping and unnamed insects would be adding to the tapestry.
Instead, there was silence save for an animal voice. She was making sounds without words. She was raging without meaning. Maggie walked in front of truck one and saw her standing in the middle of the road. She wore long work jeans and a checked shirt, the hair was short and black as midnight. The eyes were a shade darker than her skin. She threw her fists in the air and screamed again at the truck before turning toward Maggie.
“That’s enough!” Maggie ordered and fired in the air.
“Fuck you, bitch!” Maggie couldn’t make out her facial features, the mouth was moving too fast and the head was shaking back and forth. Her eyes seemed almost white with wrath. “Fuck all of you!”
“Hey!” Maggie fired again into the air. Fuck, every noise brings more of them, just what we need…..
The rifle was out of her hand in a second and clattered on the ground, a blur was suddenly struggling with her hands. He slammed her into the grill of the truck and raised a knife to Maggie’s throat. The blade was sharp. His grip on the back of her shirt was like a vice. Maggie let her hand drop to her side. Do this slowly……..
“Leave her alone.” His voice was almost a monotone. Maggie had a moment to see his face. He had long black hair, a hardened jaw and a very thin mouth. His eyes were like midnight. Maggie felt the grip of her sidearm and brought it up quickly. The cold steel made contact with his clearly defined jaw line. Surprised, he blinked once and arched his face upwards slightly.
“You’re pretty stupid, bringing a knife to a gun fight.” Maggie spoke through her teeth. “Back off. Back off now.”
“So you can shoot me?” He had recovered and was giving her a hard glare, he smelled like the earth, wind and trees. “If I am going to die, I’m taking you with me.”
5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors Page 25