A Hole in the Sky

by William C. Dietz

  It took three hours of running and walking to reach Haven. And when they did, it was to find that the town was on high alert. Kosmo had lookouts posted all around the community, heavy weapons had been deployed to strategic locations, and a fast reaction team was ready to respond at a moment’s notice.

  All of which was good, but inadequate, considering the extent of the losses the town had suffered, and the likelihood of reprisals. But before Capelli could worry about that, something more pressing required his attention. So when he saw Terri inspecting a newly created barrier he went over to speak with her. The mayor’s eyes were red with fatigue, her skin looked gray, and Capelli could tell that she was battling to maintain a positive attitude. “Have you seen Susan?”

  Terri forced a smile. “Joseph! I’m glad you’re safe. Susan arrived an hour ago along with Bo and some of his braves. They crossed the river up towards the east fork, where the water is pretty shallow this time of year. The first thing she wanted to know was whether I’d seen you.”

  Capelli didn’t wait to hear more. He went in search of Susan and found her in the underground meeting room, which had been converted into a makeshift hospital ward. There was no mistaking the look of joy on her face or the warmth of her embrace.

  “Joseph!” she said into his shoulder. “Thank God. I’ve been so worried.”

  “Me too,” Capelli said earnestly, as he led his wife over to a corner. “I have to leave soon, and I will feel a lot better knowing that you’re safe.”

  Susan frowned. “Leave? Why? Where are you going?”

  “Blackwell,” Capelli answered grimly.

  “Blackwell? The town where we parked the Stalker? It’s crawling with stinks.”

  “Exactly,” Capelli replied. “There are enough Chimera stationed there to destroy Tunnel-Through six times over. All I have to do is show them where the tunnel is.”

  Susan was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. “That’s brilliant. And I think we can make it work. We’ll go there, get the stinks to follow us, and lead them to Ramsey. And, if we do it fast enough, the Chimera will destroy Tunnel-Through before the reprisals begin.”

  “That’s the idea,” Capelli agreed. “Except for one thing. You aren’t coming.”

  Susan opened her mouth to speak, but Capelli raised a hand. “I know … You don’t take orders from any man. But there’s an exception to every rule. And I’m asking you to make one now. For me, for little Joe, and for us. Please.”

  Susan’s eyes narrowed, then softened a bit. “Okay … But only if you agree to take someone else with you.”

  “I will,” Capelli promised. “Plus Rowdy. He’s been cooped up for days.”

  “When do you plan to leave?”

  “Just before sunrise.”

  “Come with me,” Susan said as she took hold of his hand. “We need to tell the mayor, find a volunteer, and collect the gear you’ll need.”

  “And I could use a bath,” Capelli added.

  “With or without me?”

  “I could drown without a lifeguard.”

  Susan laughed, and Capelli was reminded of all the little things that made life worth living.

  Capelli, Rowdy, and Mike Unver left Haven at 0432. Mayor Locke, Mr. Potter, and other members of the council were present to see them off. “Thank you,” Terri said earnestly. “Thank you very much.” She looked like she was going to cry but managed not to.

  Susan did cry, but didn’t say anything other than, “Shoot straight.”

  Capelli and Unver were mounted on sturdy horses with a heavily loaded mule in tow. Having racked up only six hours of sleep, Capelli was tired, but painfully aware of how important the mission was and determined to accomplish it. The sky was clear, the stars glittered like diamonds, and there was enough light to see by.

  They followed the same path Capelli wanted the stinks to use, only in reverse. The plan was to leave weapons, ammo, and a little bit of food at key locations along the route. That would allow him to travel light, which would be very important, with what could be hundreds of Chimera on his trail. And thanks to Unver’s technical skills, Capelli was equipped to plant some very nasty surprises along the way as well.

  With fresh mounts, and Rowdy out front, they made good time at first. But they had to hide when a shuttle appeared off to the west, and each one of the stops took time. Especially since they now had to cache the items left behind. So when the sun neared the western horizon, Capelli and Unver were still a good five miles short of Blackwell.

  But that was to be expected. Capelli knew what was coming, and so he was in need of some hot food. Not to mention sleep. So they watered the animals, made camp in among some trees, and cooked a simple dinner.

  “So,” Unver began once the canned stew had been served. “What time are we going to get up in the morning?”

  “I’m getting up about 0500,” Capelli replied levelly. “But you’ll be at least ten miles east of here by then—because you’re leaving right after dinner.”

  Unver frowned. “Like hell I am.”

  “Oh, you are,” Capelli replied confidently, as he swallowed a swig of water. “Because if you go with me, both of us are going to die. And I’m not ready to cash it in yet.”

  “Who says?” Unver demanded defiantly.

  “I say. Look, Mike, no offense, but you’re too damned old for this. And if you come along you’ll slow me down. Then the stinks will kill you and me, and Ramsey will be free to take Haven. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Unver replied reluctantly. “But I promised Susan that I’d stay with you no matter what. She said she’d shoot me if I came back without you.”

  Capelli chuckled. “That sounds like her all right. Don’t worry about it. Her bark is worse than her bite. Listen, Mike … It took balls to volunteer for this mission. And you put me right where I need to be. But this is as far as you’re going. So eat up, take those hay burners, and get the hell out of here.”

  Unver left forty-five minutes later. And as soon as the schoolteacher was out of sight Capelli broke camp, followed Rowdy west, and found a second place to sleep. That way Unver wouldn’t be able to reveal Capelli’s location if he was captured.

  Capelli thought he was alone as he slipped into his sleeping bag, but that wasn’t the case. You don’t trust anyone, do you? the voice inquired.

  I trust Susan. And Rowdy.

  How about me? Do you trust me?

  You don’t exist.

  Maybe I do and maybe I don’t, the voice said evasively. But I have a piece of advice for you.

  Which is?

  When the stinks come after you, run like hell.

  Peals of laughter were still echoing through Capelli’s mind when he finally went to sleep.

  Capelli awoke earlier than intended. The sun wasn’t up yet, but he could see the stars through foliage above him, and figured it would be a sunny day. But cold. Very cold. Which would burn more energy.

  Knowing it would be his last meal for a while, and that he was going to need lots of energy, Capelli forced himself to eat a large breakfast even though his stomach felt queasy. A sensation he had felt many times during the hours prior to combat.

  Rowdy, who was feasting on a can of hoarded dog food, showed no such reservations. Of course he had no idea what lay in store for him, and ignorance is bliss.

  Once the meal was over, Capelli wrapped his sleeping bag and cookware in a shelter half and hid them up in a tree despite the fact he was unlikely to return. Because he couldn’t afford the extra weight—and it went against his grain to abandon good gear.

  Then it was time to fill his canteens from a nearby stream before heading due west. The LAARK was heavy, as were the backup rounds, but critical to his plan. The idea was to send the stinks a message they couldn’t ignore. Then, once they were hooked, it would be time to employ the Marksman. A Magnum completed his armament.

  Security around the Blackwell base had been lax when Capelli and Susan passed through. But was that still the ca
se? Capelli hoped so but knew better than to take something like that for granted. So as the sun started to rise, he entered the east side of town. The houses in front of him were silhouetted against a soft glow that came from up ahead.

  He worked his way between abandoned structures and along darkened streets until what looked like a single headlight appeared in the distance. He grabbed Rowdy’s collar and pulled the dog behind a garage as a Patrol Drone hummed past. Then, once the machine was gone, it was time to continue west.

  As Capelli zigzagged through the streets, the light he’d seen earlier grew even brighter and the Chimeran base appeared ahead. The newly constructed fence glowed as if lit from within, and Capelli figured it was charged with electricity. Hybrids could be seen patrolling the perimeter as well. All of which was interesting but didn’t matter, because Capelli had no intention of entering the base. The LAARK would take care of that for him.

  Capelli told Rowdy to stay, placed the Marksman on the ground next to his right knee, and ducked out from under the rocket launcher’s sling. He freed the weapon and then checked to make sure it was loaded, and that an extra two-round magazine was ready for use.

  Now he had to choose a target. Something taller than the intervening fence. And as Capelli stared into the sight, he found he had a number of choices. Two buildings were tall enough to qualify as targets, in addition to the smelter’s smokestack. It bore the company’s name, and given the angle he would be firing from, looked like the best bet. So Capelli brought the LAARK to bear, aimed as close to the bottom of the structure as he could, and took a deep breath. After the first rocket left the launcher there would be no turning back.

  Capelli thought about Susan, his right index finger tightened, and the LAARK jerked as a rocket sped through the frigid air. It hit dead center on the stack. A wink of red-orange light, then a resonant boom. The explosion blew a hole in the brick chimney but left it otherwise intact.

  So Capelli fired a second missile. He heard the impact but was too busy loading a new magazine to view the results. Then the rocket launcher was up on his shoulder, ready to fire again. The ragged hole in the smokestack was bigger than before and an undulating siren could be heard. Capelli ignored the temptation to look around and focused all of his attention on the target. The third rocket hit home, but the fourth flashed through empty space, because the one-hundred-foot-tall stack was falling by then.

  Capelli lowered the weapon in time to see the tapered cylinder land on the smelter’s parking lot, where it crushed two Stalkers before breaking into three sections and sending a thick cloud of coal dust up into the air.

  Rowdy barked excitedly as Capelli put the LAARK down and grabbed hold of the Marksman. The plan was to leave the launcher where the stinks could find it—and to eliminate as much weight as possible. “Come on, boy,” Capelli said as he stood. “It’s like the man said … Let’s run like hell.”

  It would take the Chimera at least ten minutes to figure out the angle of attack, send some ’brids to check out the area from which the rockets had been fired, and find the LAARK. And Capelli planned to make the most of the lead time.

  Rowdy took the lead as they followed a zigzag course between derelict houses and onto a street that led towards the rising sun. The fiery disk was big, bright orange, and a potential ally.

  With that in mind he pounded his way toward the church he had identified more than an hour earlier. It, like every other building in Blackwell, had been broken into during the many months since the fall. The structure’s arched windows stared sightlessly at the street, the front door hung askew, and the interior was badly trashed.

  But Capelli had no time for sightseeing. His left boot came down on a hymnal as he opened a door and followed a flight of twisting, turning stairs upwards. The steeple was home to a bell, with louvered shutters on all four sides.

  Capelli used the rifle butt to shatter four horizontal strips of wood on the west wall and shoved the weapon’s barrel out through the resulting hole. Then, he ordered Rowdy to stay, and put his eye to the telescopic sight. What he saw was what he had expected to see.

  Having determined that the attack had come from the east, the Chimeran hive-mind sent two dozen Hybrids in that direction. Capelli’s position was well concealed, and with the rising sun behind him, he eyed the oncoming mob. From his vantage point above and in front of the aliens he could see each one of them, including the stinks towards the rear.

  So rather than alert the entire group by firing on the first row, Capelli took careful aim at the very last alien. The creature’s head rose and fell rhythmically as it ran. Capelli waited for the ’brid to sink fractionally, applied pressure to the trigger, and felt the wooden stock kick his shoulder. A fraction of a second later, the Chimera’s head came up and blossomed into a bloody cloud. Those at the front of the formation heard the gunshot, but assumed the projectile had missed, as they began to spread out.

  But Capelli was ready for that and continued to harvest alien lives until the survivors realized what was happening and sought cover. That was his cue to exit the steeple as the half-blinded ’brids began to pepper the structure with Bullseye and Auger fire. It sounded like a hailstorm had hit the church as hundreds of projectiles struck the front of the building and pencil-thin rays of light stabbed the gloomy interior. Splinters flew all around them, and the church shook like a thing possessed as Capelli and Rowdy bolted out through the back door.

  Now he had to run—confident in the knowledge that the Chimera were well and truly hooked. But could Capelli stay ahead of them? That was the question. And the answer was maybe. If he could sustain the right pace, stay hydrated, and maintain situational awareness.

  And it wasn’t too difficult at first. The air was cold, Capelli was fresh, and as he left Blackwell for the flat countryside to the east there was nothing significant to slow him down. So in half an hour Capelli covered about four miles. He had established a good rhythm, and was jogging down the white line, when two rows of projectiles blew divots out of the road to either side of him. A Chimeran fighter roared over his head seconds later and arced away.

  Capelli swore, turned to the right, and jumped over a drainage ditch. Within a matter of seconds he was in knee-high wheatgrass. It had been taller back towards the end of summer, but a succession of snowfalls had beaten it down. Still, it was the only cover available, so Capelli went facedown in the field as the fighter came in for a second run. Projectiles struck, columns of half-frozen soil soared into the air, and dirt rained back down. But Capelli and Rowdy were a good ten feet outside the main impact area. So only a small quantity of dirt landed on them. The incoming projectiles had been close, however. Too close, as Capelli jumped to his feet.

  The fighter was dangerous, no doubt about that, but it was fast, so fast it couldn’t slow down enough to effectively engage such a small ground target. While the aircraft was banking away, and preparing to make another gun run, Capelli had time to advance. Even if he couldn’t get very far. Of course, that strategy wouldn’t work for very long. Sooner or later the fighter pilot would get lucky. And even if the Chimera didn’t, it seemed safe to assume that more stinks were closing in from the west.

  So as Capelli jogged forward he kept an eye peeled for the grove of scraggly trees, the outhouse next to it, and the old travel trailer. The very sight of them was like an injection of energy. He ran forward as the fighter circled to the north, jerked the trailer’s metal door open, and grinned. The L11-2 Dragon was right where he had left it. Along with a canteen full of water, a couple of candy bars, and a first-aid kit.

  The Marksman went over Capelli’s shoulder; he stuffed one of the candy bars into his mouth, and took hold of the flamethrower with both hands. Then, he backed away from the Airstream and turned and ran. A burst of explosive projectiles plowed through the trailer with a roar and shattered a tree beyond.

  Capelli was pursuing a zigzag course by then, firing the Dragon as he ran. The wheatgrass was damp and slow to catch fire, but once afl
ame the stubble produced plenty of black smoke. It blew from west to east and provided Capelli with some much-needed concealment.

  After ten minutes of continual use the Dragon ran out of fuel. So Capelli threw it away and continued east, knowing that every step carried him closer to his goal. He was starting to tire a bit, but knew it was important not only to keep running, but to reach the next dump. A place where he could make a momentary stand if he chose to.

  As a veil of smoke blew over Capelli’s head, and the fighter strafed a spot half a mile to the south, he followed a game trail down into a gully. Rowdy came to a stop and began to bark madly as hundreds of Leapers surged up and out of the depression. Had they been sent to intercept him? There was no way to be sure, but Capelli didn’t think so. He figured it was a piece of bad luck. As was the fact that he was armed with a Marksman rather than a Rossmore. The latter being far more effective where massed targets were concerned.

  But all he could do was rely on what he had. So Capelli was forced to back up towards the wall of fire he had created as he sent one of the rifle’s semiautonomous Drones out over the gully. The device immediately went to work killing the stinks, but even more boiled up out of well-hidden caves.

  Fortunately, Rowdy was there to keep the scorpion-like horrors from surging in around the human. The dog was like a whirling dervish as he darted in and out with his jaws snapping. Leaper claws flashed, and potentially lethal tails whipped back and forth, as Rowdy scored kill after kill.

  Thanks to the deadly turrets, plus well-aimed projectiles from the Marksman, and Rowdy’s fighting prowess, the twosome managed to stay on their feet as the fire closed in from behind. And that was when Capelli ran out of ammo. It left him with no choice but to reach for one of the four grenades he was carrying.

  Rowdy snarled as he tore into a Leaper and the air-fuel grenade arced into the mass of oncoming bodies. With a loud whump the device went off; flames consumed the remaining Leapers, and they began to scream.