Ted looked over his shoulder as he climbed the unending staircase. “Well, we would have had the high ground, for sure.” He paused and looked out over the expanse of green nature preserve and coastline that surrounded the launch complex. “But, without walls, there’s no protection here at all. Be easy for someone to just aim up from the ground and pick us off.”
“All the more reason to hurry up and get this over with,” said Pinner from the next landing. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. “I don’t like heights,” he said as Erik grew close. “And I don’t like how exposed we are.”
“Well,” replied Ted, “I have good news and bad news.” He pulled out a GPS receiver from his pack and took a reading. “Good news is, we’re high enough for the sensor array.” He dropped the box-like duffel bag he had been carrying and stretched his back.
“And the…bad?” asked Erik, gasping as he reached the next landing.
“You get to take your Viking-ass up to the top and install the comms repeater. We need line-of-sight for this to work and this is the tallest structure for a hundred miles.”
Erik frowned at Ted. “You know, I remember the good old days when I was your boss.”
“Good luck,” said Ted. He jerked his head towards the stairs.
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Erik. He glanced up the stairs. “Is it me or are we losing the light?”
“Some dark clouds,” observed Pinner gravely. He was shaking his head. “This storm’s gonna suck. Feel the temperature drop?”
Ted was already unpacking the sensor array. He looked up, “Hurry up, man, get that thing high as you can and bring the wires back down. Sooner we’re on the ground, the better I’ll feel.”
Erik tightened the grip on his pack and trudged forward and upward into the darkening stairwell. The echo of his bootsteps sank his spirits with each step.
“How the hell did I get myself into this mess,” he muttered, partly to ease his nerves. The wind howled more as the storm approached the abandoned spaceport. To his right, looking out over the vast expanse that was KSC, he could see the wind whipping through the low mangroves and pines that surrounded the launch complex.
Just off shore, Erik could see the whitecaps that were proof the storm meant business. Thunder rumbled through the launch tower, causing the metal to vibrate and almost hum with sonic energy. It was a very unsettling sensation to feel a structure that massive move, even if it was on a minuscule scale.
Erik swallowed and put his shoulder into the weight on his back. “Keep moving, Larsson,” he told himself. “All you’re doing…” he grunted at the next landing and took a second to catch his breath. “All you’re doing is walking up some stairs. Not like you’re being shot at or anything this time.”
Lightning split the sky and turned his world white. Before his vision cleared, the most intense thunderclap of his life struck the tower and threatened to burst his ribcage. “Okay, okay!” yelled Erik, holding onto the railing with shaking hands. “I got the memo…holy shit that was loud.”
“Hurry up, Larsson!”
Erik barely heard Ted’s yell through the wind. He shook wind-tossed red hair from his face and grimaced at the storm. A quick glance up the stairs showed he was nearing the top, at last. The Crew-Access Gantry arm was on the next floor. He could see the large crane-like structure secured to the side of the tower. Before the Troubles had started, there would have been a big rocket sitting on the pad far below, ready to tear into the sky on a column of smoke and fire, taking astronauts to the space station.
Now there was just him and the storm.
At the next landing, he was both relieved and scared to note that the stairs went no further. There was some sort of closed shaft in the interior of the tower that appeared to go higher, but the access door was bolted shut and without a large wrench, there was no higher spot he could reach. Unless…
“Nope. I am not climbing the outside of this thing.” Erik shook his head at the notion and pulled the pack off his back with a sigh. Strong or not, that thing was heavy and he was glad to be rid of the weight. His legs were burning about as hot as his back and he was drenched in a cold sweat—thanks to the brisk wind off the ocean.
The radio on his belt broke squelch. “What’s the sitrep, Lieutenant? I’m seeing some lightning strikes offshore…don’t want another—” Ted’s tinny voice was cut off by another crash of thunder.
Erik opened the pack and pulled out the communications receiver in its olive-drab, government issue ABS plastic housing. He snatched the radio from his belt and put it to his face, trying to shield it from the intensifying wind. A splat of rain slapped him in the face.
“I’m running out of time here, walk me through setting this thing up!”
“Okay, okay…” replied Ted’s voice. “Open the side pouch of the kit bag and pull out the big metal cable-tie looking things. Best I could grab from the supply shack.”
“Got ‘em!” Erik hollered into the roaring wind.
“Strap that thing around a pole or something as high as you can reach. Use the mini-drill to tighten the bolts.”
Erik walked to the edge of the platform and tried not to look down at the dizzying landscape below. He braced himself against the suddenly chilly wind and did as Ted suggested, then replied, “Okay! It’s attached.”
“Good, now extend the whip antenna. It’s okay if it flops around in the wind.”
“Done!”
“Now hook the thick cable from the pack to the bottom of the repeater and tighten it.”
A light rain made his hands slick, but he was able to get the cable attached and secured. “Okay,” he said, holding the radio sideways as he shielded his eyes. “It’s ready.” Thunder exploded in his ears and nearly drove him to the grated floor. He staggered backwards and felt a momentary surge of panic-induced vertigo until his hand brushed a metal support. Well, that was pucker-factor nine…
“Grab the cable and get your ass down here! We’re out of time!”
Erik didn’t bother to reply but threw the radio in the pack, gathered up the tools on the floor and stuffed everything in the backpack. The wind-blasted rain stung his cheeks and hands as he descended the stairwell about as fast as he thought safe. Even then, he slipped twice and nearly went ass-over-elbows down the darkened shaft.
“Took you long enough!” said Ted over the storm as Erik appeared on the landing where the others had been setting up their own equipment. “Gimme the cable,” he said, hand outstretched.
Erik passed it over and wiped the rain from his face. When Ted was finished hooking up the gear, he slapped the empty case shut and grabbed his rifle. “That’s it, she’s powered up and the solar panels are deployed. When the storm clears, the batteries will recharge and we’ll be in business. You getting a good feed?” he asked Pinner.
“Affirmative. Signal is strong and clear. I can see for miles…” the Indian said, hunched over a tablet computer, the glowing screen making his face look ghostly in the dim light.
“Great, let’s go.”
Erik did not vanquish his nerves until he shut the door to the M-ATV and relative quiet enveloped his abused senses. The three men sat there in silence for a few moments, catching their breath and letting the water drip from their clothes. Rain fell hard and loud on the sides of the armored vehicle. Erik wondered how strong the would have to be to make an M-ATV shake.
“Don’t ever ask me to do that again. Sir,” said the Indian, staring straight ahead through the swamped windshield. Erik could barely make out the dark shape that was the launch tower through the rain. It was a hell of a storm.
The interior of the vehicle was lit up bright pink again as a bolt of lightning hit the tower. Erik thought the thunder that chased that spooky pink light was going to bust even the thick, ballistic glass in the M-ATV. He tensed instinctively when the sound made his chest rattle.
“No problem,” said Ted. “Just get us back to the Visitor Center, Pinner. Let’s see if we can get some rest and chow.”
MAJOR STROGOLEV SMILED AT the road sign. “You see that sign?” he asked Gregor.
“I see rain.”
“Nyet, look. It says ‘Welcome to Canaveral’.” He slapped his subordinate on the back. “Do you not realize where we are? Just north of here—the Americans call it The Cape—where they launched the Apollo missions of our grandfather’s time!”
“Of course, sir.”
“Gregor, you are insufferable!” Strogolev keyed his microphone. “Squad One, up front! Bring your full complement of food and medicine for the Americans.”
“At once, Major!”
“Sir…” started Gregor.
“Shush, Gregor. I am leaving you in charge. I wish to see this fabled space center for myself. I grew up a stone’s throw from Baikonur, did you know? I would see with my own eyes what this famous American space port looks like—this place that dashed our hopes and dreams and helped to ruin the great Union. It will only take a day.”
“But—”
“Gregor, don’t be such an old woman! We have met no resistance and we aren’t going very far in this storm, anyway. I will take Squad One with me. We can do some scouting for American troops.” He laughed. “They have all fled, of course—once they heard we were here!” Strogolev slapped Gregor on the shoulder again, eliciting a wince.
“It will be fine. I shall bring you back a souvenir!”
ERIK SQUINTED THROUGH THE darkness at the bulky building in front of them. “Looks deserted,” he observed.
“Looks great,” said Pinner.
“All right, let’s go. By the books. Pinner, take point.”
Erik fell into line behind the wide shouldered Indian and double-checked that his gladius was still securely strapped to his pack. His hand brushed the scabbard of the Roman short-sword absently and he felt his nerves calm almost immediately.
“You still carrying that pig-sticker?” asked Ted in a hushed voice as the three men cautiously entered the Visitor Center. The front automatic doors were double-wide and stuck open, letting rain and trash collect in the entryway.
“Don’t leave home without it,” replied Erik, never taking his eyes away from what was in front of him. “The katana’s too big for close-work. I left it back at the base.”
Pinner slowly opened the inner door, peering inside with his night vision goggles. He looked like some kind of huge insect, his head covered in black cylinders and straps. After a second or two looking around, he motioned with his left hand to follow and he stepped inside the darkened building.
Erik stepped through the door and took a knee, and faced right. He held his rifle up and ready. Ted stepped through behind Erik and faced left.
“Anything?” Ted whispered.
“Negative,” said Pinner, working forward more confidently now. He moved into the lobby and looked around. “Place is trashed, though. Looks like a group of people used this place as a landfill.”
Erik couldn’t see further than ten feet in front of him. “This is creepy, man.”
“Yeah,” whispered Ted.
Thunder split the air and Erik flinched. Good thing I didn’t have my finger on the trigger. This is one hell of a storm.
“We’re clear!” called out Pinner’s voice from way off in the distance to the left. Erik swung his head and rifle around but could see nothing. “I checked the only two doors to this room, they’re locked from this side.” His voice was closer now and Erik could hear footsteps approaching.
Ted switched on his rifle-mounted light and the white beam illuminated a jumble of trash and knocked over desks, chairs, ticket booths and what looked like a motorcycle. “The hell is that, a Kawasaki?”
“Yeah,” said Pinner, emerging from the darkness into the beam of light. He was carrying his rifle in one hand, his goggles flipped up on his helmet. “All shot up. Someone rode it in here but they left on foot. There’s blood stains in the other corner, but no body.” He pointed off to the right. “Looks like the remains of a fire over there. A good layer of dust on everything. No one’s been here in a while.”
“You sure?” asked Ted.
Erik switched on his own flashlight and scanned around the room. “Pinner’s right. Look at our boot-prints. There’s a layer of dust in here. It’s thin, but it’s there. No other prints. Maybe people used this place right after everything went bad…and no one’s come through since?”
“Well then, let’s set up shop, boys. Pinner get a fire going. Erik, let’s break out some chow.”
“I think I saw a row of vending machines, other side of one of the doors,” Pinner said as he got on his knees and started to gather papers from the floor. “Looked like people had tried to get through that door. There’s scratch marks and dents and blood all over it. One of those thick fire doors with the wire-mesh windows. Glass is all busted out, but it’s still locked.”
“Think you can open it?” asked Erik. He pulled out three MREs from his pack. Salisbury Steak, Spaghetti and Meatballs, and Chicken Stew. “’Cause I’d eat a dead alligator over another one of these…”
“Oh, I’ll open it,” replied Pinner with a grin. He scraped the knife in his hand with a chunk of rough quartz and after a few tries, succeeded in getting a few sparks to jump to the crumpled paper.
“Here,” Ted said, tossing a roll of cash register tape at Pinner. “There’s a ton of these over there behind that tipped over ticket booth. That’s the gift shop over there,” he pointed behind Pinner. “We’ll have plenty of shit to burn.”
“Great, I’ll help you empty the vending machines,” said Erik.
When he and Pinner returned to the lobby, Ted had a nice-sized fire happily crackling away on register tape and travel brochures. He sat just inside the ring of firelight, his back to the fire, and watched the front doors. Outside, the lightning and thunder continued unabated, giving them glimpses of the world bathed in pink.
“Nice haul,” said Ted as Erik and Pinner dumped armfuls of junk food and snacks on the dusty floor near the fire.
“Well, it ain’t steak, but I’ll take me some Twinkies,” muttered Pinner.
The men gorged themselves on the convenience food and sipped water from canteens set out in the rain. “There’s a lot more where this came from,” mentioned Pinner around a mouthful of peanut butter cracker.
Erik nodded and took a swig of water. “We should totally stock up before we roll outta here.”
“Agreed,” said Ted. He moaned. “God, I haven’t had Ho-Hos in years. This stuff is pure shit, but man, it tastes so good after the last few months of MREs.”
“Amen,” said Pinner, raising his canteen in salute.
“You know,” said Erik, swallowing the last of a Rice Krispy Treat. “It’s amazing how we took this stuff for granted. You know, before.”
“Mmmhmmm,” murmured Ted. He belched. “Woulda killed for some of these back at the Freehold.”
“No joke,” replied Erik.
“You mind if I ask you a question, sir?”
“Go ahead, Pinner,” replied Ted.
“I’ve heard you guys talk about this ‘Freehold’ before. The Captain never mentioned it in my briefing before he assigned me to you. What is it?”
“Was,” said Erik with a sad shake of his head. He took a drink of water and leaned back against an overturned file cabinet and sighed. “Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”
Ted stared out the front doors again. “Yeah,” he said in a wistful voice. “Back before the lights went out. Before all this shit hit the fan, before…”
“So, what was it?” asked Pinner. He opened a SlimJim and took a bite.
“It was our home, man,” replied Erik. He looked into the small fire and the memories came flooding back. That fateful day the power went off and Brin was out sunning herself on their apartment patio. The impromptu pool meetings with the people who lived in the Colonial Gardens Apartment Complex. Faces of friends, brothers in arms, during their fight for survival—Alfonse, Stan, old Bernie, Alan, and a score
of others. “Lotta people died back there…” he muttered.
“We didn’t,” said Ted, turning around to look at Erik. “Thanks to you.” He glanced at Pinner. “Sergeant, if this man hadn’t taken command the way he did when the power went out and organized our little community, I don’t think we would be here talking to you right now.”
“That so?” asked Pinner. He looked at Erik and raised an eyebrow.
“Well,” Erik said, slightly flustered. “Ted could have done it—”
“But I didn’t. I was still reeling from the prison break, remember?” He ate a cookie and looked at Pinner. “Then those ex-cons broke in and attacked Susan.”
“Your wife?” asked Pinner.
“Yeah,” said Erik in a flat voice. “First man I ever killed.”
“How?” asked Pinner quietly.
“Dude almost took the guy’s head off with an honest-to-God samurai sword, that’s how. Got some mad props for that one.” Ted took a loud slurp of water from his canteen and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I shot the guy’s partner, but Lieutenant Larsson here got first blood. Went all Medieval on that guy’s ass.” Ted shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever seen, that’s for sure.”
Pinner looked at Erik. “Nice. You use that?” Pinner said, gesturing at Erik’s gladius. The sword lay on the floor. The blade swam in the reflected glow of the fire.
“No,” said Erik with a smile. “This is made for stabbing, for close-quarters stuff. I remember I was showing Ted my collection and happened to have Brin’s family’s heirloom katana in my hands.” Erik’s eyes glazed over as he remembered the traumatic events of that day. “I heard her scream. I didn’t even think. Just ran right out there in the parking lot, saw this big guy getting ready to do God-knows-what to my wife…and cut him down.”
“Almost cut in half, more like,” muttered Ted. Thunder rumbled again, but for the first time, it sounded more distant.
“What happened then? Was this apartment the Freehold?”
“Not then,” said Erik. He blinked. “That happened after we were attacked in force. Gang members blew up the gas station down the street and decided to take out our complex. We fought back. Lost some good people.”
Sic Semper Tyrannis Page 2