by Greg Krojac
The survivors, those who weren’t on lookout duty, slept the broken sleep of those with troubled minds. Occasionally someone would awake with a start, escaping a nightmare. Others would continue sleeping but the twitching of facial expressions betrayed the dark thoughts and memories that were racing through their sub consciences. Mercifully, Jasmine’s mind protected her from these nightmares, allowing her the sleep of the innocent.
Jason opened his eyes without warning as a Marine shook him awake. He blinked three times and then saw Geeky standing above him.
“Jason. You need to come look at this.”
He followed the Marine into a perimeter office that looked out onto North Moore Street and beyond towards downtown Washington DC. The Marine pointed out of the window, handing his binoculars to the Brit.
“Look towards the Key Bridge.”
Jason did as he was told and almost physically felt his chin drop. Up to one hundred Argon warriors were gathered on the DC side of the bridge, preparing to cross from Georgetown to Arlington.
“Shit!”
The Marine pointed downwards.
“And look down there.”
A lone figure had just emerged from Gateway Park, part running, part staggering. Jason focused the binoculars on the figure, thankful that they were top-grade high-powered military issue. He took the binoculars away from his eyes before returning to look at the obviously frightened man. He’d seen the man before and audibly showed his surprise.
“I don’t fucking believe it.”
He handed the binoculars back to Marine Geek before leaving the small office and kneeling down alongside Enak. He shook the Argon awake.
“Enak. Enak, wake up. I need to show you something.”
Enak stood up and followed Jason to where the Marine was patiently waiting. The Marine handed the binoculars to him. Jason whispered.
“Look at the Key Bridge. The other side. That’s not good.”
Enak nodded.
“No, it is not good. News of what happened to the scavenger party has obviously got back to Argon Control.”
“Now pan down to the figure that’s just come out of the woods.”
“Where?”
“The road that we used to come here. The one that passes what used to be the hotel.”
“I see him.”
“That’s not an Argon.”
“You are correct in your appraisal. It is a human.”
“Take another look. Can you see his face?”
Enak focused the binoculars on the man’s face, realising what Jason’s next question would be, and understanding the can of worms that was about to be opened.
“I see his face and can identify him. It is the human that calls himself Triggs.”
Jason turned around and punched the door, hard enough to express his frustration but not hard enough to wake anyone else up.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Jason turned back to see the Marine and the Argon waiting for his next move. Marine Geek didn’t understand the problem.
“Who’s Triggs?”
Jason leaned against the wall of the office.
“We met him – I say met, but really we were attacked by him and his gang – when we spent the night at the Millers’ farmstead –“
“The Amish family?”
“Yes. The Amish family. Anyway, he and his mates turned up during the night with plans to rob the place and rape the women. Maybe even kill everyone. But they hadn’t reckoned on me, Enak, and Sitara being in the barn and stopping them.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. My instincts tell me he’s a no-good son of a bitch, and to just leave him there to his fate, but he’s still a human.”
Enak looked from the Marine to the ex-paratrooper.
“Indeed you have a problem. Empathy brings problems with it. And it is a problem that must be resolved quickly. The Argon warriors will not stay on the far side of the bridge forever.”
Jason pulled his body away from the wall.
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared from the room and quickly returned, flanked by Sitara, Samuel, and Miriam. Unsure of how the three newcomers would react to the news, he paced around the small room. He had to say something; he hadn’t brought them into the room to admire the view.
“There’s someone heading this way. A human.”
Miriam didn’t think twice.
“Then we must let him in.”
Jason pulled his lips tight.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“He could be working with the Argons. Could he be working with the Argons, Enak?”
The Argon shook his head.
“Argon warriors will see him as beneath them. They have no problem initiating deception, but it would be an affront to their honour, dignity, and courage to rely upon a traitor to beat their enemy.”
That was going to make the decision more difficult. Should they abandon the man to his fate, probably sentencing him to being ripped apart, or should they save him, potentially only putting off the same fate by a few hours, maybe only a few minutes? Samuel agreed with his sister.
“If he’s not with the Argons, then we have a duty to save him. A human and moral duty. We can’t just leave him out there to die.”
Jason knew that he had to bring up the elephant in the room, an elephant that only he and Enak knew about.
“You may change your minds in a minute.”
Sitara was in agreement with the Amish siblings.
“I agree with Samuel and Miriam. Human life is sacred, especially now. If we can save him, we must. We have to at least try.”
Normally Jason would have agreed with them, but – armed with additional knowledge – part of him knew that they couldn’t trust the man.
“The man is Triggs.”
Sitara was the first to react.
“Triggs? Are you sure?”
“Both Enak and I have identified him. It’s Triggs alright.”
Marine Geek interrupted them.
“You’ll have to make a decision quickly, or it’ll be too late either way. He’s getting closer.”
Samuel held his sister’s hand.
“I think Miriam should decide. After all, it was her that they were going to rape.”
Miriam glared at her brother.
“How can you leave it all up to me? I’m not going to live – if I carry on living – with that on my conscience alone.”
The clock was ticking by. A decision had to be made. It sounded callous, but Jason had a way to force a decision, one way or another.
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
Sitara and the Amish turned towards their friend. Sitara couldn’t believe her ears.
“Rock, paper, scissors? Are you seriously suggesting we should leave this decision to a game of chance? You’ll be suggesting rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock next.”
Miriam wasn’t happy, but someone had to make a decision.
“Bring him in.”
Jason was glad someone had bitten the bullet.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. If nothing else he’ll increase our manpower by one.”
“Ok, then.”
Jason addressed the Marine.
“Who’s the fittest of you four, Geeky? I mean, who can get downstairs quickest?”
“That’ll be Spinks. He runs up and down skyscrapers for charity.”
“Go and fetch him, please.”
Marine Geek rushed to the other side of the building and returned with his colleague. Jason explained what he needed.
“I want you to run downstairs – leave your kit here, but take your weapon – and grab a guy – a human guy – as he arrives at front of the building. Treat him as a prisoner and bring him up here. We’re rescuing him, but he may not see it that way. And be careful – he’s a slippery character.”
Marine Spinks was happy to be doing someth
ing more active at last.
“I’ll go fetch him now. Leave it to me.”
Ten minutes later, Marine Spinks watched as Triggs approached the building. The guy was an absolute mess, dishevelled, unshaven, and unmistakably in need of a good meal or two. He’d just passed the door of the building, when he felt a rifle nozzle being pressed against his back. Ordinarily he would have put up some resistance, but he was too tired and too demoralized to do anything other than to give in to whoever was behind him. A voice behind him spoke sharply.
“You Triggs?”
“Who’s askin’?”
“Marine Jeremy Spinks, 1st Battalion, 10th United States Marine Corps. And you, my friend, are under arrest. What’s your name, fella?”
“Daniel Trigger Esquire, at your service. Under arrest? Why? What’ve I done?”
“Probably plenty. But all I know is that I have orders to take you upstairs.”
Triggs couldn’t be bothered to resist.
“Well alright then. I have nothing better to do this fine night.”
“Put your hands behind your back.”
“Now, I’m afraid I can’t do you that favour.”
“It’s not a favour, it’s an order.”
“Well, I can’t follow that order, Marine Spinks, on account of I only got one hand. Indeed, I only have one arm as it happens.”
Spinks looked at Triggs’s jacket sleeve. His left arm was certainly hanging strangely, and there was no hand visible. Just to be certain, he felt the sleeve. It was indeed empty, making the Marine’s handcuffs irrelevant. He prodded his prisoner with his rifle.
“I hope you’re feeling fit ‘cos we have thirty-three flights of stairs to climb. But I’m sure they’ll give you some water when we get to the top.”
“No elevator?”
“No power.”
As they started to climb the stairs, Triggs all the time with the rifle pointing at his back, the prisoner weighed up his chances of escape. Maybe he could have overpowered his captor if he’d had two good arms, but with one arm? This was a trained combat Marine walking up the steps behind him. A Marine with a gun.
Approaching the sixteenth floor Spinks allowed Triggs a few minutes rest. The man was clearly not in the best of condition, and he didn’t want to kill him unless it was absolutely necessary. Spinks stayed on his feet, covering Triggs with his rifle, while his captive sat down on a step for a couple of minutes. He gestured to Triggs’s lifeless sleeve with his rifle.
“So. Your arm. How did you lose it? Or have you always only had one arm?”
“Nope. Was born with two. Always had two. Till a couple of days ago.”
“So what happened?”
“Ran into some of them there cavemen. They got the jump on us. Me, my pal, and my boy, Shaun.”
Triggs suddenly stopped his story, as he remembered watching his son die before his very eyes. He wiped a solitary tear away from his eye with his good hand.
“One of them there Captain Cavemen grabbed hold of my arm and ripped it clean off. I don’t know how I managed it, but I ran as fast as I could, only lookin’ back once to see the guy standing there lookin’ my severed arm up an’ down. Looked like he was fixin’ to eat it.”
“But you survived.”
“Clearly did. I ran an’ ran until I felt I’d given them the slip. Then I made me a fire and cauter-, cauter-“
“Cauterized.”
“That’s the word. I cauterized it. Did a mighty fine job too. Still smells a bit of burning flesh though. You can smell the stump if you like.”
The Marine refused the kind offer and the two carried on climbing the staircase.
Eventually they arrived at the thirty-third floor and Spinks pushed his captive through the exit door and to the right towards the entrance lobby. Everybody was awake and waiting to see who the Marine had brought back with him. Triggs shuffled forward, recognising some faces.
“Well, well, well. If it ain’t the Brit, Captain Caveman, them two Amish kids, and the dark lady. Where’s your folks, Amish kids?”
Samuel felt the hackles go up on his spine.
“They’re dead.”
Triggs actually seemed sorry to hear the news.
“Well, I’m saddened to hear that news. I really mean that. Me and my guys had no intention of killing anyone. We just wanted a li’l fun. Y’know, a li'l bit of fun.”
Miriam gritted her teeth. Maybe she should have left him to die. Jason stepped forward.
“The only reason you’re here is to add to our numbers if we have to fight.”
Triggs moved his shoulder to allow his sleeve to flap freely.
“Well, Mister Britboy, I’ll do my best but I’m a l’il bit hindered nowadays.”
Miriam walked up to Triggs and looked him straight in the eyes.
“And if you so much as breathe wrong – I’ll fucking kill you myself, you sick motherfucker. You’re only here on my fucking say-so. Remember that.”
DAY TWENTY-ONE
14 May
A group of Argon warriors had approached 1812 North Moore Street under cover of darkness, from the west, from North Fort Meyer Drive. It was only a small group, ten warriors had been deemed sufficient to overcome these human stragglers. They’d swum across the river unseen and made a long detour to avoid detection by their prey.
They all knew of the deaths of their colleagues at the Key Bridge Hotel, and the humans would pay dearly for their fallen comrades, especially the three traitors who had abandoned the cause and sided with the humans. Enak, Eled, and Siroll would be taken back to the main group at the bridge and would suffer ceremonial rape, followed by ritual skinning while still alive. A message had to be sent that nobody betrays their Argon roots. The humans had placed various items of furniture on the staircases to slow down the advance of any attack, but they were futile attempts at defence. These warriors were the elite, the Imperial Bodyguard, and negotiated such flimsy obstacles without a sound, checking floor by floor, until they heard voices the other side of the door to floor thirty-three.
The humans were expecting some kind of attack, but thought that they would at least have some kind of warning of an impending assault. They’d been watching the Argons gathered at the far side of the bridge and had seen nothing to suggest that an attack was imminent.
Once the Argons burst through the doors, they were met with a barrage of flying computer monitors and desktop PCs, which they swatted away like children swatting away a fly. An almighty roar bellowed from the throats of the attackers as they launched themselves at the humans.
Gunfire filled the room as the defenders tried desperately to see off the Argon assault. The Argon commander barked orders at his men, catching a Marine’s neck in a vice-like death grip and twisted the soldier’s head with the other, the crack of bones easily heard interspersed with bullets spewing forth from his falling automatic rifle, ricocheting around the room for a few seconds, and miraculously avoiding his co-defenders.
Marine Geek leapt onto the back of another warrior who was about to issue the same fate to Sitara and, with one clean sweep, sliced open a gaping hole across the Argon’s throat, a wound that caused the man to immediately drop to the floor as his body vomited blood from the Sicilian smile inflicted upon him by the marine.
Enak pushed his thumbs hard into the eyes of the Argon commander, whom he had wrestled to the floor and pinned in place with his powerful legs. The commander’s eyeballs became a white and red syrup, oozing slowly and uncomfortably out of their sockets, dripping down his cheeks, No longer able to see, the Argon was powerless to prevent Enak from smashing his fist into the alien’s chest, the shock of the blow stopping his heart immediately. Enak looked over to where Sitara was trying to extricate herself from the dead body of her attacker who had fallen on top of her in his death throes. He ran over to the scientist and lifted the dead Argon off her.
“Are you alright?”
Sitara was far from alright, covered in the Argon’s blood, but she was alive.
Enak rifled through the dead warrior’s utility pockets and pulled out an object, which he passed to Sitara.
“Here take this. It will help you.”
Sitara thought she recognised the thing in her hand.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Yes. It is his izimutam ahc obmoh. His molecule manipulator.”
Now Sitara understood.
“The bone-breaker?”
“Yes. The bone-breaker. A good name, for that is how you will use it. Position it on the body of your opponent and press the red button. If it does not kill him, it will severely damage him.”
“But I thought it was for healing?”
“If you press the blue button, yes. However, if you press the red button it will disperse the molecules.”
Enak then turned and launched himself once more into the affray, while Sitara targeted an Argon who had Miriam in his sights. The warrior, blind to everything but his prey, didn’t hear the scientist’s approach and let out an agonising scream as she forced the weapon against his neck and the bones within rearranged themselves into a disorganised confusion of molecules.
Although without the physical strength of his Argon friends, Jason was holding his own against the Argon invaders. After leaving the British Army he had continued his Kung Fu training, and learned to master the Wing Chun one inch punch technique that the late Bruce Lee had popularised. The Argons had never seen anything like it and, although it didn’t generate enough force to kill them outright, it was sufficient to knock them off balance for long enough that the ex-Para could pummel their heads in with the stock of his now empty Remington semi-automatic rifle. He instinctively ducked as Daniel Triggs’s severed right arm flew towards him, splattering him with blood as it grazed his shoulder. This was shaping up to be a repeat of the metro station massacre, although there would almost certainly be no survivors this time.