by Greg Krojac
“I reckon we should cross the river by the Francis Scott Key Bridge, the northernmost. It’s the shortest at 1,701 feet. Theodore Roosevelt is nearly twice as long at 3,143 feet, and Arlington Memorial is 2,162 feet. Plus when we get to the other side, we’ll be close to 1812 North Moore. Psychologically, that’ll be good. I guess.”
Fifteen minutes later the group cautiously left their sanctuary, a graveyard of bad memories and broken bodies, and headed along 7th Street SW towards Jefferson Drive SW. Once the area would have been a hive of activity, the museums drawing people in from far and wide, but now it was as deserted as the rest of the city. None of the routes provided much cover, this particular part of DC being a remarkably green and open area, so they were forced to dart between the large buildings in groups of three or four, so as not to compromise the whole group if they were spotted. Once a quartet was safely huddled against the walls of one building, the next small group would make the dash for safety. Each time a group made the sprint from one building to another; twelve other hearts would leap into the mouths of the rest, aware that they could all die at any second.
It was a relief when the group made it to the bridge without incident. There had been so many times when they had been out in the open, when they could have been attacked, but they arrived at the Francis Scott Key Bridge unscathed. They could see their objective quite clearly, 1812 North Moore Street, but they were now faced with the most dangerous part of their journey. Once they started crossing the bridge they would be particularly vulnerable, especially once they were away from the riverbank.
The bridge itself looked harmless enough, a four-lane highway with modern streetlights and guardrails belying the fact that it was Washington DC’s oldest existing bridge across the Potomac River. Before the plague, it would have seen about 62,000 cars per day crossing it, but now it was almost empty, except for a handful of abandoned cars straddling the highway. There was no logical reason for those cars to have been there – death by plague wasn’t so sudden that a victim would be caught by surprise while driving across the bridge. Perhaps these cars belonged to people who had no family and their drivers had gone to the bridge to drown themselves in the river. It would explain the large number of bloated and disfigured corpses floating underneath the bridge.
The group scanned the bridge, looking for anything that might be suspicious, although they had no choice but to cross the bridge if they wanted to get to 1812 North Moore. The bridge was too long for them to adopt the same strategy as they had past the Smithsonian, the Washington Monument, and along Virginia Avenue. Now they wouldn’t be even remotely safe until they were ensconced as high up as possible in 1812 North Moore.
Jason looked at the faces of the small band of survivors. They looked tired from the effort of having survived for so long, exhausted both physically and mentally. They looked scared - it would be foolish not to be scared. They had all witnessed the carnage at the Metro Station. They wanted this all to be over, they wanted their old lives back. But that would never happen.
Jason gathered the group around him.
“Ok everybody. I’m not going to lie to you. This is going to be dangerous. But we have no choice. Keep together, in single file, but close to each other. It’s a wide bridge but we need to keep to the middle of the road, away from the sides. I think it’ll be safer. Are you all up for it?”
The group nodded and Jason gave the order to move out. The bridge looked a lot longer, now that they were about to cross it. Enak went first, followed by the rest, taking an invisible line down the middle of the bridge. The Marines were interspersed with the civilians, as were Eled and Siroll, with Jason bringing up the rear of the column just as he had done in the Metro tunnel.
It was a peaceful day, clear blue skies broken only by the occasional small white cloud breaking the palette. Ahead five cars were bunched together in such a way that the group had to take a small diversion away from the centre of the road. Jason signalled to the group to wait while he and one of the Marines checked that it was safe to continue. Carefully, they approached the vehicles and looked through the car windows to ensure that there were no hidden surprises inside. The passenger areas of the cars were empty. Jason moved to the front of the line and gestured to the nearest Marine[a38].
“We’d better check the boots.”
“Why do we need to check our boots?”
“The car boots. The trunks of the cars.”
“Ah. Why didn’t you say so?”
Jason gave a sigh. There would always be the occasional confusion between British and American speakers of the same language.
The car boots were checked and everything appeared to be ok, so the small band of men, women, and one child started to edge their way past the obstruction, only a couple of feet from the side of the bridge.
Suddenly, confusion reigned as three Argon warriors leapt over the guardrail. Two of them grabbed Sitara and Miriam, each holding one of the women under an arm, as easily as a child might carry a teddy-bear, while the other threw punches at nearby Marines who had instinctively turned to try and prevent the kidnap. It was all over in a flash, and the three aliens threw themselves into the waters of the Potomac, disappearing from view.
The two women were suddenly aware of being dragged underwater. They struggled as best they could, fighting both their captors and the panic that being hauled underwater was provoking. Each woman had a large palm clasped over her mouth, while stubby fingers pinched their noses closed. The Argons were highly efficient swimmers, and the speed at which they swam underwater to a bank further down the river, was the only thing that prevented the women from drowning.
The nine who were left on the bridge were frozen in shock for a moment, before they were aware of Jonas shouting at them to run. Samuel was beside himself.
“We can’t leave them. We can’t leave my sister.”
As the others ran to the Arlington side of the bridge, Jason turned round and ran back to where the stricken young Amish man was standing. He grabbed Samuel’s arm and half-dragged him off the bridge to where the rest of the group was now tucked behind a bush. He held Samuel’s by the shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“We’re not leaving the girls behind, Samuel. Not Miriam. Not Sitara. If they’d meant to kill them, they would have done so. We’ll get them back. I promise.”
Siroll joined the two men.
“Jason is correct, Samuel. They have been taken, not killed. We’ll get them back”
Samuel knew that the main reason he and his sister were still alive, was because of Jason and Enak. He trusted the men. If anyone could get the girls back, it was these two guys.
The three Argons and Jason moved a few yards away from the rest of the group and began to prepare a whispered plan. Jason needed to know what they were up against.
“Why did they kidnap the girls instead of killing them? Or the rest of us, come to that?”
Siroll felt uncomfortable telling Jason of the fate that awaited Miriam and Sitara, but there was no way to sugar-coat it.
“They will be auctioned off and become the sex slave of whoever buys them. Argon women are treated little better, but at least there is an element of choice about whom we spend our lives with. We are allowed two refusals to marry, but if a third man wishes to marry us – we have no choice and become our new husband’s property. Captured women don’t even have a choice. Eled, Enak, and myself are disabled in the eyes of Argon society. We care about others. We have compassion. But remember, we are the exception, not the rule.”
Eled continued.
“There is a waiting period of three days while invitations to bid are distributed to the most revered warriors, and the women are examined to determine their menstrual cycles. A menstruating woman is deemed a particularly fine prize, so, if she is approaching the time that she will bleed, the sale is sometimes delayed. I know it does not sound like it, but that’s a good thing. If that is the case with either Sitara or Miriam – preferably both – that may give us a
little more time.”
Jonas shook his head.
“We can’t leave them with the Argons for a second longer than we need to.”
Enak had an idea.
“I have thought of a way to rescue them, but we will need help from one of the nurses.”
Jason didn’t like the sound of that, but Enak continued to explain his plan.
“You have seen how Argon men carry your females under one arm, as if they weighed nothing? Do not forget that Eled and I are also Argon. We possess the same strength. If we can get into where the women are being held, we can carry them away just as they were when they were taken from us.”
Jason thought for a minute.
“It may work. But how will you get close enough?”
“I suggest that Eled and I steal the uniforms of two sentries – there will only be two, I’m sure. They will be complacent as they think that you humans are beneath them and that you pose little threat. The next part of the plan is the part that I do not like, and you will hate. We will take one of the nurses with us, as an act of deception to make them think that we have captured another female to sell.”
Jason shook his head.
“You’re right. I don’t like it. It’s too much to ask someone to do. We could end up with three women being sold into slavery.”
Siroll nodded.
“I know it is horrible. But it is our best chance. We do not know how much time we have. And Enak and Eled will not let any harm come to the nurse.”
Jason still wasn’t sure.
“Will they be safe overnight?”
Siroll nodded. “They will not be treated particularly well, but they will be safe. Their captors will not wish to damage their merchandise. They are safe for tonight, anyway.”
Jason reluctantly agreed to the plan.
“Where do you think they’re being kept?”
Enak pointed at a ten-storey building nearby. Jason scrambled over to one of the Marines.
“Marine Geek. What’s that building over there?”
“The hotel?”
“Yes. The Marriott Hotel”
“That’s the Key Bridge Marriott Hotel.”
“Do you know anything about it?”
“I know some.”
“Tell the Argons anything you know.”
Jason then moved across to where the two nurses were reminiscing about safer times.
“Hi girls. Sorry to interrupt, but Enak has a plan to rescue Sitara and Miriam. The only problem is that we need your help. And it’ll be dangerous.”
Both women, US Marine Corps Nurses, were eager to help, but the rescue mission only needed one of them. For a few seconds there was a little light relief as the choice was made by the result of a best-of-three battle of rock-paper-scissors. Jason returned to Siroll.
“Roberta has volunteered to help with the rescue. Will the girls be safe during the night?”
“Yes. As I said, they will not want to damage the merchandise. They will be kept in a room inside a charged plasma containment bubble.”
“What’s that? Some kind of force field?”
“I do not know what you would call it, but probably.”
“How can Enak and Eled get the girls out, if they’re trapped by force fields?’
“Do you remember the implement I used to repair the damaged arm of Eled?”
“Yes?”
“The tool is very versatile. Mine is out of energy now, but both Eled and Enak still have theirs. They can use them to break the force field.”
Now he knew more details, it sounded a very good plan to Jason. It had to be - it was the only plan they had.
“OK. Let’s do it. First thing tomorrow morning, as long as the girls will be safe. Today’s been hard. It’ll be better for all concerned if we start afresh tomorrow. We’ll sleep hidden from view under one of the bridge’s arches tonight.”
In a room in the Key Bridge Marriot Hotel, Sitara and Miriam were comfortable on the large double bed in a King’s Guest Room. As holding cells go it was luxurious, and even had a great view. The door wasn’t even locked, as Sitara soon discovered when she went to leave and bounced back off an invisible wall. Miriam sighed.
“Why does it always happen to me? I’m sick of being carried off by aliens. I mean, who was nearly carried off during that awful battle? Me. I’m a fucking Argon magnet.”
Sitara was shocked to hear an Amish woman swear. She looked at her cell-mate.
“Did…did you just swear?”
Miriam blushed.
“Sorry, Sitara. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”
“No need to apologise. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Miriam grinned.
“I do feel better for cussing though.”
Sitara laughed.
“I bet you fucking do.”
The two of them collapsed burst out laughing.
“I didn’t know Muslim women swore, either.”
Sitara’s eyes glinted.
“Well, I’m not your regular Muslim girl either. Thoroughly modern Muslim, that’s me.”
Having composed herself, Miriam tried to keep a straight face, but a fit of the giggles overcame her. She fought to control her breathing again.
“Well fuck me.”
By now the two girls were in hysterics, both having completely blown away their respective faith’s stereotype. A banging on the wall from an adjoining room brought them back to their senses. It was followed by a male voice.
“Is someone there?”
The women weren’t sure what to do, shushing each other.
“Please answer. These alien guys don’t appear to be able to speak English.”
Miriam nudged Sitara.
“Do you think we should?”
Sitara nodded.
“We’ve nothing to lose.”
She went up to the wall and spoke in a voice loud enough for their fellow prisoner to hear, but not so loud that it might attract unwanted attention.
“Hi. My name is Sitara Khan and my friend is Miriam. Who are you?”
The voice sounded audibly pleased.
“Sitara Khan? It’s Roger Nelson.”
“Roger Nelson? Administrator Nelson?”
Miriam tugged at Sitara’s sleeve.
“Who is he? Do you know him?”
Sitara quickly turned to her friend.
“It’s my boss, Miriam. My big, big boss. Administrator Nelson is the boss of NASA.”
The voice sounded sad.
“I’m not boss of anything now, NASA’s gone. The UN is gone. The whole infrastructure has gone. So many people dead. So many dead, Doctor Khan.”
Sitara had mixed emotions. She was happy that Administrator Nelson had survived, but had suddenly been reminded of the millions that were not. She banished the thoughts from her mind temporarily.
“How did you get here?”
“I’ve been surviving on my own and saw a group of people crossing the bridge. I thought maybe I could hook up with them. But I was spotted, caught, and brought here.”
Miriam finally opened up.
“That was us. We were heading -.”
Sitara pressed two fingers to Miriam’s lips.
“Shhh. We don’t know if they have those translating things.”
The fingers removed, Miriam whispered a thank you. Sitara turned her attention back to the wall.
“We’ll find a way out of here or get rescued. I’m sure we will. And we’ll take you with us, Administrator Nelson.”
“Call me Roger, please.”
“Only if you call me Sitara. I’m tired now, Roger. I think we should probably get some sleep. We don’t know what time we’ll be rescued.”
Miriam’s face brightened up.
“You’re sure the others will rescue us?”
“Of course,” Sitara lied. There was a hope, but a slim one; the rest of the group wouldn’t even know that they were still alive.
DAY NINETEEN
12 May
>
Enak, Eled, and Roberta, the Marine Corps Nurse, woke up just before dawn. The plan was to find an Argon sentry patrol, overpower them, and take their uniforms. Then they would head for the hotel with Roberta as their prisoner, another piece of merchandise for the upcoming auction.
Jason and Samuel watched as the three rescuers turned into silhouettes in the half-light, and headed in the direction of the hotel. Samuel was nervous.
“Do you think they’ll get them back, Jason?”
Jason wasn’t sure of anything, but couldn’t show his own doubts about not only the rescue mission, but about whether they were doing the right thing by going to 1812 North Moore. The rest of the group might think that he knew what he was doing but, in reality, he was just winging it, improvising as he went along. But the others looked to him for guidance, for leadership, and he couldn’t let them down. Without hope, what else did they have? Without hope, what was the point of going on?
“I’m sure they will, Samuel. They know what they’re doing.”
The rescue party had only walked about two hundred yards from the bridge, and were under the George Washington Memorial Parkway, when Eled spotted a two-man Argon patrol approaching them. He pulled the others into the shadows and whispered urgently.
“Two warriors approaching from the left. This is our chance.”
Enak reminded the nurse what would happen from thereon.
“Roberta, we will change clothes with these two and then Eled will carry you under his arm while we take you to the hotel. Apologies in advance for any discomfort. From this point we will speak Argon only. Do not worry, just follow our lead. Are you ready?”
Roberta nodded.
The warriors were almost upon them now. Enak and Eled let them pass and then, without a murmur, each one grabbed a warrior’s neck, putting their victims in choke holds before pushing the warriors’ heads sharply forwards before [a39]jerking them rapidly backwards, breaking the Argons’ necks and ripping their windpipes apart for good measure. Roberta was shocked at the ease with which the two Argons were able to kill the sentries; she knew that the Argons were strong, but no human could have done so with so little effort. Enak and Eled quickly swapped clothes with the warriors and Eled checked that Roberta was ready before scooping her up under his arm.