“Rowdy!” Capelli shouted. But only a shrill whistle could pull the dog away from the stink he was savaging. The animal’s muzzle and head were covered in gore. Capelli and Rowdy ran forward, jumping bodies whenever necessary, making for the gully and the high ground beyond. Then something hit the field fifty feet in front of them and exploded.
Capelli paused to look back and saw that a Titan and two Ravagers had managed to pass through a gap in the wall of fire. A gang of Hybrids was following along behind. Another cannon shell was on its way, and it would have scored a direct hit on both man and dog, if they hadn’t been scrambling up the bank.
With a Titan and two Ravagers on his tail, it was critical for Capelli to reach the supply dump and do so quickly. A big farmhouse appeared on the left as he topped the slope and paused to hurl his remaining grenades at the oncoming Chimera. They exploded in quick succession. The last was an air-fuel grenade that wrapped a Hybrid in a cocoon of yellow-orange flames.
Without waiting to see the results of his efforts, Capelli raced across an open area towards the southeast corner of the wraparound porch, where the stash was hidden. Pieces of lumber flew as he tossed them aside to reveal a piece of canvas and the items hidden beneath it.
The dump included two canteens of water, an M5A2 Carbine, and most important of all, a Wraith minigun. Not the faulty weapon from Haven’s original arsenal, but a brand-new unit taken off the Suzy Q and transported to the site by mule. It was a weapon Capelli carried frequently during his days with the Sentinels.
The Wraith might work on the Titan, the Hale voice observed dispassionately, but what about the Ravagers? Their shields will protect both them and the Hybrids.
Capelli knew the voice was correct but could only handle one thing at a time as he shoved M5A2 magazines into empty ammo pouches, replaced his mostly empty canteens with fresh ones, and took the minigun into his arms.
The Titan was climbing up out of the gully by then. Only his head and shoulders were visible, but it wouldn’t be long before the giant towered above Capelli, unless he could cut the stink down to size before then. Wraiths were notoriously difficult to fire, both because of their incredible weight and the fact that the rotary barrels could put out 1,200 rounds per minute. That produced a lot of recoil and caused the weapon to rise up off its target unless controlled.
But Capelli was not only strong, he was something of an artist with a minigun. He fired a tight grouping of bullets and the monster staggered. The Chimera was tough, however, and still managed to fire its cannon.
Capelli felt the heat the projectile produced as it flew past him and hit a tool shed, reducing the structure to kindling. Stay on it, the voice ordered sternly. You’ve got to kill that thing before the Ravagers arrive.
Capelli wanted to tell the voice to shut up but knew doing so would be pointless. So he kept the trigger down, walked the minigun projectiles back and forth across the Titan’s chest, and swore when the weapon clicked empty. He dropped the Wraith and was reaching for the carbine as he backed away. The Titan swayed uncertainly, seemed to steady itself, and exploded.
That was good, but not good enough, as the Ravagers topped the rise and opened fire from behind their translucent shields. Hybrids were following along behind them. Rowdy barked and Capelli fired on them, but it was a waste of bullets. The big shields were impervious to rifle fire.
Capelli was left with one option. He’d been hesitant to use it up until then, and for a very good reason. Unver claimed the system would work, but what if it didn’t? Projectiles whipped past Capelli like angry bees as he ducked down behind the concrete platform on which the old-fashioned pump sat. The remote was about the size of a pack of cigarettes, and Capelli could still hear Unver’s words. “Wait until the bastards are right on top of the charge,” the older man had instructed. “Then push the button. That’s all there is to it.”
But Capelli couldn’t see where the Ravagers were. Not without sticking his head up high enough to get it blown off. So all he could do was push the button and hope for the best.
The block of C-4 went off with a loud boom that shook the ground, threw a column of debris up into the air, and shattered windows on the south side of the farmhouse. Capelli rose up from behind the platform at that point and was thrilled to see that one Ravager and at least three Hybrids had been killed. It was difficult to determine the number, with so many body parts lying around.
Unfortunately, the second Ravager was very much alive. Rowdy dashed out into the open as it continued to advance. Capelli shouted, “No!” as projectiles pinged all around him, but the dog wasn’t listening. The Ravager swiveled a few degrees in order to fire on the animal.
Capelli saw his opening. He allowed the carbine to fall so he could grab his revolver. The moment the handgun was up and in position he fired. Due to the angle, the large-caliber slug hit the stink in the left shoulder. It rocked the beast back on its heels but wasn’t enough to bring it down.
So Capelli triggered the secondary fire mode, causing the deeply embedded bullet to explode. That blew the Chimera’s arm off, so both the limb and the shield fell together. The second bullet hit the Ravager in the skull and knocked it off its feet. The Chimeran body was still falling as Capelli took a hit in the side, dropped down behind the platform, and knew the whole effort had been for nothing. He was bleeding, his carbine was out of reach, and he had just four rounds left in the pistol. Once the Hybrids flanked him, the battle would be over.
Capelli had accepted that reality, and was thinking about Susan, when he heard a deep-throated blam, blam, blam, as someone fired a burst from what sounded like a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). That was followed by sustained fire and the sound of Mike Unver’s voice. “Take that, you scabrous bastards! May all of you rot in hell.”
At that point Capelli stood, weapon in hand, to discover that all of the remaining Hybrids were down. Bodies were sprawled every which way just short of his position. Unver had a big grin on his face as he exited the farmhouse.
“I thought I sent you home,” Capelli said levelly.
“You did,” the older man answered. “And I was halfway there when I realized that you are totally full of shit. So I came back.”
Capelli grinned. “Thanks, Mike.”
Unver nodded. “You’re welcome, Joe. You were hit. How bad is it?”
Capelli returned the pistol to its holster so he could undo his combat vest and pull his shirt aside. The wound hurt, and his side was sticky with blood, but the hole had already begun to close. “Damn,” Unver said in wonderment. “You heal fast.”
“Yeah,” Capelli said, as he refastened his clothing. “There’s nothing like government health care.”
Rowdy was miraculously unhurt. He paused to lift a leg over a dead Ravager, and both men laughed.
“Come on,” Capelli said. “If the hive-mind was angry before, it’s really pissed now. Let’s get out of here.”
The next half-hour or so passed without incident as the barely felt sun rose higher in the sky and the threesome continued to travel east. The momentary calm was a good thing, unless it meant that the stinks had given up. But they had nothing to fear; a Chimeran shuttle rumbled over their heads but then disappeared over the next rise. “They’re trying to cut us off,” Capelli said, as they paused to rest. “How much do you want to bet that stinks are closing in from the west as well?”
“I’d put money on it,” Unver agreed. “If I had any … What do we do now?”
“We’re still a good five or six miles out from Tunnel-Through,” Capelli replied. “So we need to get closer. Let’s move forward and see if we can slip between the stinks. If that doesn’t work, maybe we can circle around them.”
“It sounds like a plan,” Unver said. His voice was steady, but Capelli could see the fear in his eyes. Fear and determination.
Capelli nodded. “Let’s go.”
Tunnel-Through, Oklahoma
Seven men were crammed into Judge Ramsey’s office. A couple of the
m were seated, but most had been forced to stand. A large hand-drawn map had been fastened to the wall behind Ramsey’s cluttered desk. All of the local settlements were identified by name as well as the estimated population.
Ramsey, who was just about to call the meeting to order, was a happy man. And he had every reason to be, because while the attack on Tunnel-Through had resulted in casualties, his forces had been victorious. And, based on information obtained from the prisoners they had taken, Ramsey felt sure that the so-called alliance had been crushed. A theory borne out by the fact that the attackers were all running for home—if their various burrows could be called homes.
But more than that, the failed assault on Tunnel-Through had boosted morale. Suddenly, having been threatened from the outside, the citizens of Tunnel-Through were united in a way that they hadn’t been before. And that meant his position was secure.
Still, Ramsey knew that the history books were filled with examples of rulers who had underestimated their opponents, and had been severely punished for it. So he would not allow his enemies to plot against him—he intended to root them out. Starting with the town of Haven, which, according to Mel Tilson, was where the resistance effort had begun.
They were about to begin their meeting when the door opened and a trail-weary regulator was shown in. The man’s hair was plastered to his head and he was in need of a shave. He held a Stetson hat in both hands and rotated it jerkily as Hunter introduced him.
“This is Rick Toby, Judge … He’s been on picket duty west of here.” Then, turning to Toby, Hunter said, “Tell Judge Ramsey what you saw. And don’t leave nothin’ out.”
Ramsey listened with a growing sense of alarm as Toby described how he had seen a man and a dog fleeing from a large group of Chimera. Then, according to the regulator, the man had started a fire to slow the stinks down, and even managed to kill a few.
Toby wasn’t sure what had occurred afterward, because after seeing such a large force of Chimera making a beeline for Tunnel-Through, he thought it was his duty to rush back and deliver a warning.
“And you were correct,” Ramsey said approvingly. “Thank you.”
As Toby was shown out of the office, Ramsey was left with more questions than answers. Who was the man with the dog? Why were the Chimera chasing them? For the same reason they would chase any human? Or had the man done something to aggravate them? And what if the fugitive managed to survive a bit longer? Would the stinks stumble across Tunnel-Through? Suddenly, Ramsey had something more than revenge to worry about. And that was survival. His survival. Which, according to Ramsey’s perspective, was the most important thing in the world.
Near Tunnel-Through, Oklahoma
Being very much aware of how visible the dog would be if he broke the skyline, Capelli kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar, as he and his companion neared the top of the rise. “Stay,” Capelli said emphatically, and he pushed Rowdy down. The mix made a whining noise in the back of his throat but obeyed nevertheless.
With Rowdy taken care of, Capelli elbowed his way to the top of the slope where Unver was waiting.
“You aren’t going to like this,” the schoolteacher said, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
And Capelli saw that the other man was correct. The drop ship had landed, the cargo-bay door was open, and a dozen Hybrids were on the ground. Then something unexpected appeared.
The Attack Drone was identical to those Capelli had seen in the past, except for one thing: This unit was carrying a rider! As were the two machines that followed it out of the cargo compartment and into the bright sunlight.
Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. In fact, Capelli knew that a Sentinel named Hawthorn had successfully ridden a Drone. But such occurrences were very rare. And the stink–machine combination was potentially quite dangerous.
“They’re coming this way,” Unver warned, and it was true. The Chimera had formed a skirmish line that consisted of alternating Hybrids and piloted Drones.
Capelli had a sudden thought and rolled over in order to look west. He was pleased to see that there weren’t any stinks coming from that direction. Not yet, anyway.
“Okay,” Capelli said as he turned back. “Here’s what I want you to do. Once the stinks are in range, kill a couple of them. But don’t waste any bullets on the Drones. Their shields will protect the pilots. Then I want you to stand up, let the bastards see you, and run west. There’s an old combine a couple of hundred yards to the west. Take cover behind that.”
“Yeah?” Unver said suspiciously. “And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to lie here, let the stinks pass by me, and shoot them in the back.”
Unver grinned. “I like it. But you’d better find some cover. Start looking. I’ll handle the rest.”
And the teacher was as good as his word. While Capelli worked his way sideways, careful to keep Rowdy in close, Unver opened fire with the BAR. The M1918A2 was firing armor-piercing .30-06 rounds, which produced an ominous roar as Capelli settled in below some bushes and pulled the dog in next to him. The firing stopped as Unver got up, paused to make sure the stinks had seen him, and turned west as projectiles kicked up dirt along the crest of the hill. Then he was gone and hidden from their sight.
Capelli was lying on his back. By raising his head slightly he could look left and right. That was how he saw four Hybrids top the crest of the hill and head downslope. The Drones arrived a second later, and as luck would have it, one of them passed directly over Capelli’s position. He could hear the thrumming sound, see the scratches on the bottom of the machine, and smell the stink of ozone as a wave of heat washed over him. Rowdy barked madly, but the Drone was loud enough to obscure the sound.
Then Capelli was up, carbine to his shoulder, firing from only yards away. The pilot’s back was exposed and the Hybrid jerked convulsively before it fell to the ground. And with no one to hold the throttle open, the Drone drifted to a halt.
What happened next was the result of an impulse rather than a carefully conceived plan as Capelli dashed down the slope. Thanks to the height advantage the hillside gave him, he was able to enter the Drone and occupy the just-vacated seat. The vehicle bobbed and sank slightly as Capelli’s hands sought the controls. It took him only seconds to figure out that the joystick on the left was used to steer the Drone—and that the grip on the right controlled the machine’s speed.
Then Capelli was off. And not a second too soon, as a ’brid fired a burst of rockets at him. They passed through the space he had occupied moments before and slammed into the hillside. The battle could have ended there and then had the other Drones been able to gang up on him. But Unver was in position by that time. And every time a ’brid pilot turned its back on the schoolteacher it risked being shot.
That limited what the Chimera could do and gave Capelli a much-needed advantage as he guided his vehicle in behind one of the stinks and fired the Drone’s automatic weapon. A steady stream of projectiles tore into the enemy pilot and its mechanical mount. The Drone exploded. Pieces of flaming debris flew in every direction. There was a clanging sound as a piece of metal struck the front of Capelli’s machine and bounced off. Capelli put the vehicle into a tight turn and went after the third Drone.
But it, along with all of the remaining Hybrids, had already fallen victim to Unver’s lethal BAR. The pilot was slumped forward against the controls as its machine drifted two feet off the ground. “We did it!” the ex-schoolteacher shouted exultantly, as he dashed upslope. “We killed every goddamned one of them.”
It was the last thing Unver ever said, as a row of ten Stalkers appeared to the west. All of them opened fire at once and missiles rained down out of the sky. Capelli was spared as columns of soil soared into the air—but Unver vanished as if he had never existed.
Capelli swore bitterly as he turned the machine towards the east and opened the throttle all the way. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to keep going. For Unver, for Susan, and ultimatel
y for himself.
Well, I’ll be damned, the voice remarked. You listed someone else first.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FINAL JUDGMENT
Thursday, January 14, 1954
Tunnel-Through, Oklahoma
Susan Capelli was sitting upright in the trunk of a 1953 Cadillac, peering out through the four-inch gap between the lid and the car’s rounded body. She was wrapped in a blanket, leaning against her pack. The vehicle was sitting on four flat tires in a small parking lot. To her left, about three hundred feet away, stood a water tower. She could see the lookout stationed up on the walkway. The pimply-faced youth wasn’t a day over eighteen. Too bad he was going to die.
The hill, and the tunnel concealed within it, lay beyond. After circling around and approaching from the south, Susan had been able to infiltrate the area the night before. The car, and the cover it gave her, were a godsend. Two regulators had passed within fifteen feet of the vehicle earlier that day without giving it a second glance.
Now, as the pale yellow sun began to sink towards the western horizon, she saw little activity in the area. The exception being the lookouts posted on the flanks of the hill itself. She couldn’t see the north side, but knew where the sentries located in front of her were, and planned to kill them as soon as Joseph arrived. If Joseph arrived—which, as the hours crawled by, seemed less and less likely.
But he’s a Sentinel, she told herself. Possibly the last Sentinel. And Sentinels are hard to kill. The thought provided her with a momentary sense of comfort. But that feeling soon fell prey to the unresolved doubts which had gone before. The result was a persistent uneasiness that, combined with the nausea she’d been experiencing, made Susan feel ill. Please, God, she prayed. Please keep him safe. And deliver him to me.
Moments later, as if to mock her, three Chimeran fighters roared over the hill. Susan’s initial reaction was to view the aircraft as a bad omen. Then she realized that the fighters might portend good news. What if her husband’s efforts had been successful? What if he was closing in on Tunnel-Through from the west? That would explain the presence of enemy aircraft.
A Hole in the Sky Page 27