by Jacob Gowans
Brickert knew his route as well as he knew how to make a perfect hamburger. Justice would take Horse Team south on 16th Street into D.C. while Brickert and the rest of Sheep Team made their way to Highway 50, and Natalia (Pig Team) took Highway 29. Once each car had destroyed its blockade, the teams would move in and help clear out enemies for the masses to march into the city.
“Any reports of marchers?” Brickert asked Justice.
“Some. A few hundred gathering at College Park. About a thousand at Army Navy Country Club. Might be some people up at Glover Archbold, but I don’t know. Thomas is sending organizers to each place.”
The news was a bitter disappointment, but Brickert would not let it deter him. He shook hands with the rest of Sheep Team and wished them well. His team comprised of one Elite and ten other resistance members with varying amounts of combat training. Despite Brickert’s protests, Justice put him in charge, and named the Elite, Erin Malm, second in command of the team. Brickert went solo in the first car while the rest of Sheep Team rode a van thirty meters back. The doors to the van had been removed to give its occupants an immediate exit in the event of an attack. After reviewing the plans one last time, Justice ordered everyone into their cars. Brickert gave Natalia one last hug, and started up his convertible.
Driving down the highway with over twenty kilos of class B explosives near the engine made his palms sweat. He checked his mirrors every ten seconds and never got closer than five meters to the car in front of him. Flashing signs on both sides of the road warned drivers to stay away from barricades, and that any signs of civil unrest would be met with lethal force. Brickert’s destination was the intersection of 7th and K Street on the northeastern side of the city. The barricade filled Mount Vernon Square. As Brickert drove down, he flipped his com onto the broadcast channel.
“Marchers approaching the Potomac bridges,” Lorenzo said. “CAG agents are ordering them to halt or they will open fire. Permission to direct them to proceed?”
“Negative,” Thomas returned. “We have no snipers in position to provide cover on the bridges. If you cross the bridge, you will sustain heavy casualties.”
“Wait until we have people in position to aid the crossing,” a third voice said.
Brickert switched his com back to the private line between him and his direct commander. “Justice, I’m less than three minutes from the blockade. Do I still have a green light?”
“You getting bricky, Brickert?” Justice asked.
“What does that even mean?”
“Dunno. I just made it up. You’re still green-lit. All teams are in sync. The rest of Sheep Team with you?”
Brickert checked his rearview mirror. “Roger that. I see them.”
“Blow them all to hell, Bricky.”
“Aye bloody aye.” Brickert took a deep breath and held it. Far ahead he saw the blockade. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon, but cast no glares yet to blind his vision.
“Enemy snipers have spotted you, Sheep Leader,” one of the resistance snipers reported from the goose nest. “We’ve got scopes on him, but put a shield up just in case.”
Three seconds after Brickert followed the sniper’s advice, his windshield shattered. It startled Brickert enough that he jerked the steering wheel and cursed.
“You okay, Sheep Leader?” asked Erin Malm, his second in command.
“Fine, just lost my windshield is all,” he reported as he blew the rest of the windshield out using three strong hand blasts.
“Sorry about that,” the same sniper said. “We took him out.”
“Sixty seconds until impact,” Justice told them. “Maintain your speeds and we’ll do this thing right. Things are gonna get real wild on the farm.”
Brickert counted down in his head as he turned on the car’s auto-nav system, locked in his speed, and climbed onto the car’s hood to protect it from enemy bullets. “Lay down suppressing fire!” he shouted when CAG agents fired on him.
Behind him, the van pulled to a halt and his team poured out, firing on targets at the blockade. The convertible sped toward its end destination while Brickert rode it like some mad surfer.
Six … five … four. A Thirteen aimed a rocket launcher at him, but took a sniper round that tore apart most of his skull. Three … Two … one …
Brickert launched himself high into the air as the car sped on until it smashed into the blockade and exploded with a thunderous BOOM that ripped the air.
“Sheep Blockade destroyed,” he reported as the concussion from the detonation shoved him backward toward the parked van. “Sheep Team moving in.”
* * * * *
After clearing the white floor of the Hybrid’s bodies, Jeffie checked the time on Sammy’s watch. Twenty-six minutes, she realized. I have twenty-six minutes to live.
Twenty-six minutes was the length of a cartoon. It took her that much time to eat lunch. A perfect shower lasted about that long. Was that really all the time she had left? Because it wasn’t enough.
Keep it together, she told herself. Keep it together for Sammy.
The stench in the white room was so thick and noxious that she didn’t want to breathe. They had piled the bodies in the elevator shaft. The dead filled the entire pit space and halfway up the area the elevator would normally occupy. Vitoria’s body went in last. Jeffie could tell by Sammy’s face that he was going to lose it again if she didn’t do something, so she hugged him and whispered that Vitoria was okay, that she wasn’t hurting anymore. In the back of her mind were four other words that she didn’t want to say or think, but they stuck in her brain: You’ll see her soon.
Sammy sat on the floor in the back of the room. It was the only clean place left because so few Thirteens and Hybrids had died in that area.
“How much battery is left?” she asked him.
Sammy glanced at the holo-projectors wearily. “Twenty percent.”
“Do you still think she’s com—”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” Sammy turned his eyes on her. “She’ll come, Jeffie. She’s probably on her way now.”
Jeffie could tell he wasn’t going to say more, so she put her hand on the top of his head and turned it until their foreheads touched. “What do you think our lives would have been like if there hadn’t been a war?”
Sammy sniffed and with a heavy voice said, “I have no idea.”
Jeffie closed her eyes and tried to pretend. She wanted to see something beautiful before she died, not blood and guts staining the walls and floor. “I would have had kids. Three. How many children did you want?”
“I—I—Jeffie, why are you—”
She gripped his wrist. “Please, Sammy. Just for a minute.”
“I—I guess about four. Or five.”
“Okay, so we’d have four.” Him playing along helped her more than she could ever say. It let her soul fly away with her imagination. For a moment, she was gone from Rio, from the underground, and from the blood. “I’d have one more child … for you.”
Sammy snorted, and it made her giggle. “For me? Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Sammy looked at her and then looked away, lifting the screen of his zero suit off his face so he could wipe the sweat and blood from his eyes and nose. Please say it, Sammy. Please. I just want to hear it once.
“I always wanted to live near the water,” he said. “Maybe on an island. I don’t know. At least on the beach.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Lovely …” Sammy repeated. “That’s a word old women say.”
Jeffie tried to smile but her muscles wouldn’t work. “You could be a professor. Put on a sweater every day. Have one of those pipes.” The thought of that made her giggle. “And teach at a college—a college on the coast.”
“What would I teach?”
She stroked his cheek. “Whatever you want. And at night we’d put the kids in bed and play a game or read a book. I�
�d put my feet on your lap and read until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Until I’d have to kiss you. And then we’d make love whenever … wherever we wanted.”
Sammy looked like he was about to cry, but instead he laughed. Jeffie didn’t know how he did it. “I’m gonna die a virgin. When I was in therapy in Wichita, I told Dr. Vogt that I didn’t want to die without—you know.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Jeffie found herself again on the verge of tears, but refused to do it. She couldn’t cry.
“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.”
She grinned grimly. “How about now? Here?”
They both laughed. Then Jeffie heard a moan come from the elevator shaft. A Hybrid. Before Sammy could move, she hopped up, winced at the pain from her bad knee, and put a bullet in the Hybrid’s head. Satisfied he was dead, she hobbled back to Sammy and sat down.
“What do you think is happening up there? I hope it’s working. I don’t—don’t want it to be for nothing.”
Jeffie rested her head on Sammy’s shoulder. “Are you ready?” he asked her.
Jeffie only sighed. “No, not really. But I can’t say that, can I?”
Sammy stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m fine … I promise.”
“I know you are.”
“I’m ready—really, I’m ready.” Something wet tricked down her face, a tear or someone’s blood. She wiped it away. “How much time do we have?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“How are you so calm?”
He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’m terrified.”
Jeffie hugged him fiercely. “I don’t want to die.”
“Shh,” Sammy said. He took her hands and locked eyes with her. “Jeffie, it’s okay. You can go. You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.”
“I can do it by myself. If I just use it—”
“We can’t risk failure!” Jeffie shouted. She didn’t know why she was so opposed to it. In a way, it didn’t even matter if Sammy used his Anomaly Thirteen. But at the same time, it seemed to matter more than anything. “Two of us increases the odds by—”
Sammy let her go. “I know all that. I’m just saying …”
“Then stop saying. I’m all right.”
“Okay.”
“Are you, though? Remember your promise, Sammy.”
One of the rappelling descenders made a whirring noise as it shot back up the elevator cable. Jeffie jerk her head toward the elevator. Someone’s coming.
“This is it.” Sammy said.
Jeffie’s hands started to tremble, so she squeezed them tightly to make it stop. “You promise you won’t use it?”
Her question irritated him. “Yes, I still promise.”
Sammy helped Jeffie to her feet. Tears welled up in her eyes but she pretended they weren’t there. She checked the time on Sammy’s com as he inspected the holo-projectors. Eighteen minutes …
Sammy’s face paled as he looked at her shoulder.
“What?” she asked.
“Your zero suit has another hole.”
Jeffie’s feet went numb. “And you’ve already used the last patch.”
25. Triumph
Tuesday, November 11, 2087
EVEN AS THE blockade shattered in a flurry of fire and stone, other explosions echoed in the distance. The nearest blockades were only two or three kilometers away. Atmo-cruisers arrived overhead, NWG and CAG, battling it out in the sky. The CAG intended to provide air coverage for the blockades and drop missiles on crowds, so the NWG’s job was to keep them occupied. Brickert’s team used the van for cover as the CAG agents in the ruins of the blockade tried to prevent them from crossing deeper into the battle zone.
Geese—friendly snipers on the rooftops—gave regular reports of where Brickert needed to direct his team’s attack while they picked off soldiers. Their efforts allowed Brickert’s team to slowly advance into the rubble his car had caused. The smell of melted slag and concrete stung Brickert’s nose along with the scent of charred flesh. Brickert directed his team to break into four groups of three and fan out using the snipers’ intel to press the enemy from advantageous angles.
“Tanks are closing in on Horse Team’s location,” one of the geese reported. “Horse Team still hasn’t breached the blockade.”
“Pig Team taking heavy fire,” a second goose said. “Multiple casualties.”
Brickert’s breath caught. Pig Team was Natalia’s, located about a half kilometer to the southeast. Horse Team was Justice’s, located a similar distance away, but in the opposite direction. Justice’s blockade was one of the most important to remove because it gave marchers a direct path south to the White House. Natalia or Justice? Helping one might mean the death of the other.
“Sheep Team,” he called out, “secure the area, eliminate all targets, and proceed to Horse Team’s location at double speed.”
All buildings in the area were locked and barred on government orders, forcing Brickert’s team to use the streets and alleys to sniff out the most clear paths to get behind the blockade that Justice’s team had failed to break.
A group of Aegis fired at Sheep Team as they made their way down K Street to 16th. Brickert reported them to the geese. “We’ve got our hands full with our own problems,” one sniper responded.
Think, Brickert, he told himself. What would Sammy do?
Sammy’s a leader. I’m not.
Brickert shoved those thoughts away and looked around for some way to get a jump on the Aegis. That was what Sammy liked to do: confuse the enemy with a barrage of movement and attacks until their frustrations overcame their defense. But I’m not Sammy. I can’t do the things he does.
Brickert scouted the block ahead for a spot that provided cover. He saw a large pile of cars in the middle of what was left of Franklin Square. The trees in the square had been leveled, the area filled with debris, vehicles, and turrets for gunmen, but there didn’t seem to be any guns in their vicinity. Most of the drones had been planted on the blockades facing north.
“Squad D,” he said, “move ahead up to that car pile. Squad A, B, and C will provide cover. All four squads will leapfrog across the square until we reach 16th. Keep eyes out for enemy soldiers.”
As instructed, Squad D went first, while Malm’s B Squad and Brickert’s A Squad provided suppressing fire at the Aegis. When the Aegis saw D Squad moving, one of them lobbed a grenade. Brickert shot several rapid blasts at the grenade until one connected and sent it back at them. Several shouts came from the Aegis’ vicinity as the grenade went off, scattering them like roaches. Brickert and Malm’s squad picked off as many as they could.
Above Brickert’s team, two CAG cruisers chased and fired on an NWG cruiser. The roar of their engines rang Brickert’s head like a bell. The heavy machine guns of one of the CAG’s ships sprayed bullets at Brickert’s team as it passed.
“Take cover!” Brickert shouted, though he doubted he could be heard over the booming engines. Debris and dirt splashed like water with each bullet’s impact, as his team dove for protection. Malm got caught in the path of the gunfire. The bullets tore into her and threw her into the side of a car.
Brickert led his squad to her position as he reported their situation to the geese. When he reached Malm, he knew at once she wasn’t going to make it. Her hands quaked as she reached into her pocket and removed a slip of paper from above her breast. Blood smeared across it as she handed it to Brickert. It was a picture of herself, her husband, and two boys. “Make sure I … get home. And finish this.”
Brickert nodded and put the picture in his own pocket. “I will.”
Malm closed her eyes. Brickert tagged her location on GPS and requested a medic and evacuation as soon as possible.
A goose spoke over the com. “Sheep Leader, we still need you at Horse’s location ASAP. How far are you from his signal?”
“On our way.” Brickert barked orders to his
squads and led them further west past Franklin Square to McPherson Square.
McPherson was about half the size of Franklin and had almost no debris to be found. Gun turrets had been erected on the north side facing K Street, and another line of defenses had been built along H Street to the south, but in between very little stood in Brickert’s way. He sent Squad C across first, ordering them to move with caution to draw out enemy positions. The three other squads followed behind, eyes open for signs of movement or fire.
Two seconds later an explosion filled the square with smoke and dirt as half of Squad C was obliterated. “Fall back!” he ordered Squad C. “Proximity mines! Fall back!”
Only one of the three members of C made it. Brickert called in more casualties. “Stay behind me,” he told his team. “We’ve got to punch through whether we like it or not. I’ll sprint across with my blasts on the ground to set off any more bombs. Give me cover on both sides and the rear, but don’t stray far from where I walk!”
Brickert led his team across the square with hand blasts directed at the grass. Three more mines went off before they reached the opposite block. Once they’d reached the blockade, Brickert asked the geese where he was needed. “You’re going to have to hit the blockade from the east. They’ve got a tank directly south firing rockets and artillery over the blockade. Take out the tank, if you can.”
“Any report on Pig Team?” Brickert asked.
“Haven’t heard a word from them in about ten minutes.”
Brickert wished he hadn’t asked. Cruisers soared overhead, chasing one another back and forth through the air. Their engines roared like dragons and spat bullets of fire. One of the CAG ships took a bad hit and plummeted into the buildings west of the blockade on 16th Street. Dust and debris flew through the air, pelting Brickert’s team and sending them for cover.
“Goose Nest, this is Sheep Leader,” Brickert shouted into his com. “Can we get air support for that tank? It’s hell down here!”