“Kettle.”
He turned back around and saw Peter wiping his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Come on over. I was just having a moment.”
“Understandable, sir.”
“My whole family…taken, and there was nothing I could do about it.”
“Carl told me about Xcaret, sir, and how everything went to shit real fast. He told me how you risked yourself to protect him.”
“A lot of damned good it did,” said Peter bitterly.
“Carl was his own man, sir. A real bad ass in his own right. You couldn’t watch over him forever.”
“I know, but now he’s dead because I let him go back to the bar alone.”
“You were only following orders. He was not.”
“I should’ve been there with him.”
“Sir, whoever was watching him had been watching him for some time. If you had been with him at that moment, they would’ve gotten him at a moment you weren’t there.”
“There isn’t even a body, Nolan. Now my father is taken. Did you hear about this Kafka character?”
Nolan nodded. “He sounds creepy.”
“He was somehow able to coordinate the drones, like Carl used to,” said Peter. “How the hell is that possible?’
“I don’t know, sir, but it looks like there’s a new player, and I don’t think that was the last we’ll be hearing from him.”
“You think he’s going to use my father as leverage, too?”
Nolan nodded. “Why else would he have taken him? He blew up the RGT to get your father.”
“I know. It just doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“These terrorists are savages,” said Nolan. “They probably didn’t know what they had with the RGT. If they did, they would’ve taken it and run.”
“I suppose so.”
“So what now?” asked Nolan.
“There are some three hundred drones missing. Betancourt wants us ready to do clean up. Now we’re hunting them, not coordinating them.”
“That’s a whole different set of tactics,” said Nolan.
“You bet. I have some experience going up against these things. I’ve learned from past mistakes. We need to train the men.”
Nolan nodded his understanding. “Airfield.”
“Assemble the men. Twenty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Fort Bliss Airfield
13:00 HRS
“We are going to have to engage the drones in a variety of scenarios: open combat, urban warfare, rural combat,” said Peter to his unit. “There are a few basic principles in hunting these bastards. The first is visibility. We want to decrease ours and increase theirs because, if they get the drop on you, it’s over.”
He nodded to Nolan, who pointed to three jeeps. “We will use the portable radar, mounted on the backs of these jeeps, to scan for the drones.
“When engaging the drones, formation is everything. In a squad, we will have five men running point, five on each flank, and two in the rear to lay down cover for a retreat. In open areas, there will be three of these squads, one in the center and two flanking, for extra support.
“The key is to come in heavy, cover each other, and have an exit. You have to remain mobile. If you get bogged down, you’re dead. Plain and simple. Get in, get out.”
Kettle picked up an assault rifle. “Your weapons will be stocked with hollow points for controlled penetration with maximum tissue damage. When overwhelmed, you will be tempted to go full auto, but you’ll only waste ammo and find yourself in a hard spot. Keep it on semi-auto. Short controlled bursts. Go for the head shots, do not waste ammunition.”
“If you do find yourself out of ammunition,” continued Peter, “your rifles are equipped with bayonets. Quick stabbing motions through the eye socket, a clean kill. You also have your retractable batons for skull crushing.
“When they come at you faster than you can handle, retreat backward under cover fire from your men bringing up the rear. Keep the corridor clear so you don’t get tagged by friendly fire. Then the rear will drop back behind the new positions of point and flanks, and so on and so on. Soon your drones will be tripping over the bodies of the slain as they try to get you. That will buy you more time.
“They’re slow and clumsy, but make no mistake—they’re relentless. They won’t stop until you put them down.”
Lieutenant Farrow held up one of the black neoprene suits. “These suits will do well to help conceal your body heat signatures. This will initially make you invisible to the undead. They will treat you like a piece of furniture. But make no mistake, once you begin engaging them, they will get wise. If you move quickly and stay in formation, they will have difficulty tracking your movements…” Peter looked at Lieutenant Farrow. “…in theory.”
“Shit, sounds good enough for me,” said Kettle, slapping Farrow on the back. “What do you say, men?”
“HAROO!” shouted the men in unison.
“There is a psychological element to the drones,” Peter added. “Do not think of them as people. Once you do, they start to look like your sister, your best friend, your old college roommate—and then it’s all over for you.” He thought of the mirrored room in the gym at Xcaret and all the eyes on him. He remembered how some of his men lost it and got eaten because they looked these drones in the eye and saw them as human. “Don’t let them get into your head,” he said broodingly.
“Good point, sir,” said Nolan, recognizing that Peter was having a moment.
“Keep it technical and keep it clean,” said Peter. “And for Chrissake, watch the panic. These ain’t no insurgents. These are the undead. Zombies wanting your flesh for breakfast. Don’t look ‘em in the eye. It’ll unnerve you. Soon, instead of seeing flesh hungry monsters, you’ll be seeing your next door neighbor or cousin or your old girlfriend from high school.”
There were grins and smirks in the unit.
“Hell, Lord knows I’ve dated a few ghouls in my time,” said Kettle. “All right men, suit up! It’s zombie stompin’ time. We’re training all day, every day until we’re called in to show what we can do.”
“HAROO!”
Chapter 14
Siena, Italy
Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena
One Week Later
09:23 HRS
Yvette strolled across the Palazzo Salimbeni arm-in-arm with Kafka, sans his helmet. They looked like two young lovers out for a walk. She looked up at the mullioned windows of the white building as they approached the statue of Salustio Bandini in his robes holding his book, a stern expression on his face.
They paused in front of the statue, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. Soon the square filled up with people…lots and lots of people. They milled around the square for a moment, an ordinary scene except for the sheer number that filled the square seemingly all at once. It looked like the moment just before a flash mob broke out.
Kafka reached into his backpack and pulled out his helmet. Yvette gave him a sultry look. He slipped it on and the visor activated.
With a quick, silent command, the flash mob sprang into action. The drones all filed into the bank, followed by Yvette and Kafka, now holding automatic weapons. They entered the bank, dispatching security guards with tooth and nail. They filled the beige atrium and began to mount the spiral staircase. They ascended round and round, offshoots of the undead mob invading each floor, overwhelming the startled clerks and executives, sinking jagged teeth into soft flesh.
Yvette made her way back to the computer center, where all of the financial records, files, and accounts were stored. She shot the guards outside the door and took the technicians inside hostage.
Kafka got off on the floor of the Banca Monte dei Pashi’s renowned historical archive. He stormed into the consultation room with its small wooden tables, chairs, and glass encased books, and he began to shoot out the glass.
Undead saturated the golden Galleria Peruzziana, the painting
s gallery, meeting hall, and the white walled Salone Strozzi, treading on its classic rugs. Outside, drones roamed the streets grabbing pedestrians, pushing people indoors, snapping their jaws at anyone and everyone.
Kafka produced his mini-com and called the police, switching on the translator application.
“This is Kafka. Terrorists have seized the Banca Monte dei Paschi. American undead infantry drones are being released on the streets of Siena as I speak. We demand that the Americans hand over the Automaton or we will begin killing hostages in the most brutal of fashions.”
He terminated the call as he stood outside the doors of the historical archive. Belmont said that the Sienese kept secret historical records dating back to ancient times. The answer to his condition lay somewhere in the archives. He tried to disengage the digi-locks with his multi-tasker, but with no success.
“Yvette.”
“Yes, Kafka.”
“See what one of your technicians can do about opening the archive. Tell him if he doesn’t help, one of the drones will begin to eat him alive, starting from his feet to his head.”
***
General Ramses and Colonel Betancourt stood at the front of the debriefing room. Peter and Nolan were seated with their multi-taskers flashing holographic maps of Siena, Italy.
“At approximately 09:30 HRS, terrorists seized the Banca Monte dei Paschi in Siena, Italy,” announced General Ramses. “Shortly thereafter, our rogue infantry drones took over the entire city. The local authorities, naturally, were powerless to do anything.”
“This Kafka character from the Guantanamo Bay incident called into the local police station threatening to kill civilians if the United States didn’t hand over the Automaton,” added Colonel Betancourt.
“That’s impossible,” said Peter. “Carl is dead and his body is missing. Can’t we send out a press release to that point?”
“To do so now would be pointless,” said Ramses. “They’d never believe us. They’d only think we were protecting the Automaton.”
“The Italian government isn’t equipped to handle the situation. Siena is a fortified city, and this Kafka is holding an entire city of hostages,” said Betancourt.
“There was an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council, and they’re calling for us to clean up our mess. They figure it’s our drones and we know how to neutralize them,” said Ramses.
“This is a trap,” said Nolan.
“Yes,” agreed Betancourt. “They’re trying to make us look bad, as if we’ve lost control of our own drones.”
“Frankly, sir, that’s exactly what happened,” said Peter.
“Additionally,” said Ramses, “the Banca Monte dei Paschi is the oldest bank in the world. It conducts business on a global scale. It is also one of the last economic bastions of the European Union. After Greece, Portugal, and Spain’s economies collapsed, only Germany and Italy are keeping the European Union afloat. In fact, the Banca Monte dei Paschi is the only thing keeping the Italian economy afloat. The European Union is blasting us in the media.”
“So as you can see, this is a delicate situation on many fronts,” said Betancourt.
“But we can’t give them what they want, even if we wanted to,” said Peter.
“Not necessarily,” said Ramses.
“General Ramses,” said Betancourt dubiously, “wants you, Captain, to pose as your brother.”
“What? So we just hand the Captain over?” asked Nolan in disbelief. “They’re going to kill him.”
“We don’t plan on letting OIL actually have him,” said Betancourt. “We have a plan. Kind of like the Trojan Horse.”
Holographic images of tunnels popped up from their multi-taskers. “There are a series of ancient subterranean tunnels originating from outside Siena that send water into the city, supplying its fountains. They’re called the Bottini,” said Betancourt. “While we hand over our faux Automaton, Lieutenant Kettle, you and your unit will be entering the city through these passageways. Fortunately, there is a shaft running right up into the computer center of the bank. There are a couple of problems, however.”
“What’s that?” asked Peter.
“The tunnels are ancient and, in some sections, in serious disrepair. The Sienese government said that some sections are even caved in, but those sections are unfortunately undocumented.”
“What else?” asked Nolan.
“We have no way of knowing if this Kafka or any of his operatives know about the Bottini.”
“If they do, it will put quite the damper on our little operation,” said Peter.
“It will be important, once you infiltrate the city, to use your recent training tactics to neutralize the drones. Several squads will enter the city through other shafts, but only after you’ve penetrated the bank. Then you will coordinate the neutralization of the drones around the city.
“Eyes in the sky report that the civilians are being kept indoors with the drones standing guard outside. When you mobilize, you must strike quickly to minimize civilian casualties.”
“What about me?” asked Peter.
“You will be gathering intel as you walk through the city. We will equip you with a visor that transmits video and images out to us. We’ll gather data on the placements of the drones and relay it to Lieutenant Kettle to help coordinate the strike,” said Betancourt. “I will be there personally to do this right outside the city walls.”
“Additionally,” said Ramses to Peter, “it is imperative that you identify who or what is coordinating these drones and neutralize if possible.”
“So I’m walking right into the city, sending back data as I go, and when I reach the bank, I’m supposed to surrender myself, find who’s controlling the drones, and kill him,” reiterated Peter.
“Exactly,” said Ramses.
“I’ll be in constant contact for as long as possible,” said Betancourt. “We’ll be sending in the strike force well before you enter the city. You won’t be in the bank long before they strike.”
“That’s real comforting,” cracked Peter.
“We mobilize in twenty minutes,” said Betancourt. “Kafka knows it’ll take time for us to reach Siena. We’ll give the impression that it’s taking a little longer than it actually is to buy us time.”
“Any questions?” asked Ramses.
“No, sir.”
“No, sir.”
“Good luck, gentleman. Dismissed.”
***
Aboard a NASA X43 Cargo Jet
14:24 HRS
“Something isn’t right about this,” said Peter.
“Nothing is right about this,” said Betancourt.
“No, I mean, we can’t find Carl’s body. Yet, somehow this Kafka is controlling the drones.”
“You think Kafka has your brother?” asked Nolan.
“It follows,” said Betancourt. “Maybe Kafka isn’t OIL.”
“Maybe he knows we don’t have Carl because he has him,” said Peter. “He knows it would put us between a rock and a hard place to produce him when he had him.”
“In the meantime, he’s using Carl to control the drones,” said Nolan.
“That’s assuming that your brother somehow survived the kill chip and could be coerced into controlling the drones for Kafka,” pointed out Betancourt. “Don’t get distracted looking for your brother in there, Captain.”
“I have orders to identify what’s controlling the drones,” countered Peter.
“Just make sure you focus on your mission,” admonished Betancourt.
“That’s why Kafka took Mr. Birdsall,” said Nolan. “To use as leverage to force Carl to direct the drones.”
“That would be treason,” stated Betancourt.
“With all due respect, sir, the army put Carl in that position by allowing our father to be traded for the RGT,” reminded Peter. “It wouldn’t be wise to hang my brother out to dry when it was done to protect a classified technology that doesn’t officially exist.”
“I don
’t like your tone, Captain,” said Betancourt. “That’s something I’d expect out of your brother. I’m no Major Lewis.”
“Yes, sir.” Peter decided to drop it for now. He made his point. Hope sprang from somewhere in Peter’s mind. Maybe Carl was still alive. He was an engineering student. Perhaps he found a way to beat the kill chip.
If he did and he was indeed directing the drones, he was in hot water with the army. Treason. Now Peter wasn’t sure if he really wished his brother to be alive.
***
Kafka sat in the archives poring over records using his multi-tasker translation function to decode the Italian. Some of the documents were even in Latin. He found very old documents dating back to the Dark Ages and even before. There were accounts of mysterious objects falling from the sky and found empty. Shortly thereafter, there were outbreaks of cannibalism near the fallen objects followed by reports of vampirism, demonic possession, and lycanthropy.
Individuals displaying unusual characteristics, such as the ability to read minds, were executed as witches. There was mass paranoia and superstition was rampant. When the events were over, the phenomena were frequently attributed to mass hysteria.
Belmont and Yvette were right. The origin of THV and the RGT technology appeared to be extraterrestrial. In all accounts, the fallen vessels were found to be empty. Maybe these aliens…these beings were ghosts or incorporeal in nature. Perhaps that was why they required the physical form of humans to clear a path for them, to engage the locals and wipe them out.
Kafka began to wonder. Was he the harbinger of a war declared on humanity? Was his purpose to lead the first wave of an invasion of some kind that had been tried so many times before?
The periods of cultural growth associated with contact with these ‘Outworlders’ always followed periods of social upheaval. Perhaps these beings were attempting to exploit the turmoil, using it as a distraction or a backdrop even. None of the singular individuals who were able to communicate with the undead was allowed to live to fulfill his or her purpose…
I Am Automaton 2: Kafka Rising Page 24