“Close,” corrected Gossage. “The drone console was in the conflict zone in the first phase of the fighting, but it didn’t hook up to the rattler they caught him in until days later.”
“O-Kaaaay,” Patrick sighed, now a little frustrated.
“Look,” she continued. “We plotted the dongle’s entire trail on GEO, along with the Keiretsu Console’s. What we know is this: the console’s GPS was activated in Oregonia Province in early fall. It moved slowly down into the Desert Plains Territory. On the way, it stopped here,” she pointed to Lolo Hot Springs, “before going to the Nautilus Headquarters of the International Energy Consortium. It stayed there for a week and then made stops in a bunch of small towns, mostly at road intersections—most of which are now destroyed. Albuquerque, Amarillo, Abilene, Galveston, Laredo. It jumped around the last two weeks before the fighting started. Then it moved around the fighting area for days—especially around the MACs—communicating with all kinds of folks. After that, it got plugged into Wood’s rattler and drove over the border. Now you see this last leg of the trip—this is the drone flight that carried it to us here.”
The Energy Consortium. Patrick rubbed his eyes, still absorbing the revelation. This thing gets more fucked up by the minute.
“But-but—” he halted. “Back to my earlier question. What do we know about who the unit was talking to? Free Texas Volunteers. …Desert Plains Territorial Militia. …Who else?”
“Different militias, units of the Joseph Smith Brigades, elements of the White Light of Christ, and other units we can’t identify. Mercenary vehicles associated with Farid Sherman. A building in Los Angles that’s now torched. A Keiretsu ship in the Gulf. Someone in the Nautilus—even after it crossed the border. Three buildings registered to the Church of Salvation and Heavenly Peace.”
Fuuuuck. The PetrolChurch.
“We don’t have records on the warehouse in Portland, where it got switched on, but the land is owned by Templeton Industries.”
“Here’s the weirdest part,” Beez interjected. “Well, it’s all weird, but here’s something else. The console also records commands to combat drones to hit several other militia vehicles—honing on their comms signals.”
Patrick was lost again.
“One militia vehicle directs fire onto other militia vehicles. That’s on top of firing on civilians in a MAC.”
“When you said it was the making of a real shit storm, Gajah, you may have understated a bit.”
Gajah poured a glass of water and sat down in front of the console. “If I have this right, we have a conspiracy. Attacks that are almost certainly coordinated. Fratricide. A massacre of civilians. An attack on a neighboring state, and foreign equipment. All tied, directly or indirectly to the International Energy Consortium, a known mercenary, an upstart church, and a foreign power. Also tied, directly or indirectly to the Acting Governor of the Desert Plains Territory and the Senator of Oregonia Province.
And indirectly to my father.
Gajah knew better than to say it, but they were all thinking it.
“Of course, all this evidence comes from a dictator who’s a known adversary of the Desert Plains Governor,” Patrick suggested, “with little love lost for the Chief Regent and half a dozen Senators. What are the chances that the Generalissimo is feeding us crap? Maybe buy the console on the black market and doctor the logs? Feed the infighting in the Commonwealth. Distract everyone.”
Patrick found it hard to believe the Meso-American Republic was an innocent bystander. Probably paying attention to the odd events unfolding before the massacres started—maybe closer attention than the Ellies had been paying. It was clear now that the Generalissimo had used the time to prepare. He had closed the border with remarkable speed. “And contained the uprising in New Honduras, using his own bloody tactics. The Meso-American Army was long suspected of funneling weapons to the migrants and hiring coyote smugglers and borderland drug cartels to keep the Desert Plains Territory—and more specifically Mosino—off guard.
Patrick had heard reports that the Mesos had counterattacked against fighters from the Commonwealth who entered their territory. Xavier Mosino countered by accusing them of making incursions over the border into the Commonwealth. Both sides leaked footage to the MediaStream showing the slaughter on their soil to galvanize support for their side.
Patrick figured the Mesos didn’t like that Xavier Mosino harbored secessionist sentiments in Texas. He also reckoned the Mesos would be careful to keep their forces away from the border, lest they be accused of attacking the Commonwealth and incur the wrath of the Expeditionary Force. But the border region had already become a free-for-all of bedlam and chaos—with armed, guerrillas, break-away units, private militias, and mercenaries clearly flowing north and south of the border. Patrick wouldn’t put it past the Generalissimo to sow suspicion and discord in the Commonwealth if he could.
“Unlikely,” Beez posited. “Without the original keys, it’s very hard to scramble or change the unit’s logs, and we don’t see any evidence of tampering. Plus, the GPS of the V-plat and the drone-console overlap. The last tests we’re running now will give us more data, and I’m confident we’ll find Woods’ fingerprints and dirt traces from everywhere the GPS said.”
“Well, hell,” groaned Patrick. “OK. Anything else?”
“Uhm, yeah. There’s, there is one more thing you should see,” Gossage added, less enthusiastically. “We’re a little surprised they sent us this, actually.” Patrick and Gajah raised their eyebrows, as she walked around the table, put on rubber gloves, and uncovered a small steel canister. “This is an empty poison gas canister. Its serial number is referenced in the console logs. It was launched from a drone on the order of Wood—on the day the Mesos said they captured him.”
With that, the room went quiet. Gajah rubbed his forehead. Patrick leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling deep in thought.
What do we tell Dad? What do we tell the Chief Regent?
Chapter 49: The Fall of Troy
(Victoria Lancaster)
Victoria Lancaster and Grimm Lockheart snuck through the side streets of besieged Troy Township, parallel to the township’s main thoroughfare, which connected the infirmary to Victoria’s apartment block. The stink of gunpowder hung in the air, and a veil of smoke wafted over the pavement. Small fires crackled along the entire route.
Hope for the best; prepare for the worst, she thought as they approached her building.
At last, they clambered up the concrete stairs to her flat, and she nearly crashed into her mother, Nessa Lancaster, as she threw open the door. Her mother, sweaty and panting from her own race, dropped the rifle and satchel she was carrying and wrapped Victoria in a tight embrace.
“Oh, thank God, Nessa rasped. “I was on my way out to find you, but I had no idea where to look.” Her mother’s head was wrapped in a bandage, a small circle of blood at the center of her forehead. As if it weren’t there, her mother quickly examined Victoria. Without letting go of her daughter, Nessa reached out and placed a hand on Grimm Lockheart’s cheek, silently thanking him for whatever role he played in bringing her daughter back.
After another tight squeeze, Victoria’s Aunt Honey and cousin Tim entered the room, immediately dropping their gear and racing over to greet her with hugs. As they rocked back and forth as a group, Victoria realized her family had been packing. She pulled back from the embrace, took Grimm’s hand, and gave her mother an inquiring look. Her mother glanced at Grimm’s armband, acknowledging his new-found role in the township’s Civ-Def force, and offered him a meek smile.
“We’re leaving,” Nessa said flatly. “Grimm, I spoke with your mother. You’re coming with us at least as far as the first rendezvous point.” She turned back to Victoria. “Grab your bag, Dear. Just the essentials. Anything else we need will be at the rendezvous.”
Victoria and Grimm just stood there, dumfounded by the announcement.
Victoria then remembered the family’s long
-standing evacuation plans. Contingencies had been made for exactly this kind of situation, thanks to her Uncle Christian and Shay. They’d taken pains to walk her through the plans—over and over—until they all knew how to execute, even if they were alone.
“Now, if we need to go northeastwards,” she recalled Shay lecturing, “the rendezvous’s right here. Whole place was one o’dem gated communities for the bougies in the High Times. Hardly no one ‘round left, an’ it’s plenty out of the way. Walls’r still standin’. Good visibility, but overgrown enough that it can’t hardly be seen from the main roads. Not too many migrants ‘r urchins even know the place.”
Honey touched Nessa on the arm, bidding her to get back to work. They hurriedly packed bags and boxes and carried them downstairs to Oscar and Bambi. Grimm and Victoria instinctively complied, helping Nessa and Grimm toss items off the balcony to stage it for Tim and Honey to load. Victoria then shoveled what she needed into a duffle bag, noticing her Uncle Joshua through the window, gathering firearms, ammunition, and combat-packs.
The trucks were half full, the pile on the landing chest-high, when the whiz-pop of a bullet snapped above their heads. The windows of the apartment building tremored and shattered with a nearby explosion. A gritty white dust drifted downward as a second and third concussive thud sent them all scurrying for cover. Crouching in a corner, she exchanged a knowing look with Grimm.
We’re far enough inside the township. …we must be getting overrun.
“Forget the rest of the stuff,” Nessa shouted at the window. “We need to go now. Tim, Honey, get in Oscar.” She turned to Grimm and Victoria. “You two, drop everything and follow me.” Victoria then made a bee-line for the door and bounded down the stairs on the heels of Nessa and Grimm.
“Vic,” Uncle Joshua said when she and Grimm had made their way down, “take this.” He handed them each a satchel with ammunition. “Get behind Bambi and cover us from that direction. I’ll take the other approach. Anyone who comes at us, drop ‘em. Understand? Once your mom gets to Oscar, I’ll go to ‘em to drive. You get to Bambi with your mom and Grimm. We’ll follow you.”
Her tranquil and religious uncle’s orders rang bizarre and unnatural to her, but she nodded in agreement and took up a position behind the old ambulance, training her rifle down the road. Her fingers sweated against the trigger.
Another blast set a nearby apartment building ablaze and rained debris up and down the street. Victoria looked back to see her mother leap from the bottom flight of stairs and race toward Bambi. Victoria scrambled to the passenger seat, as Nessa took the wheel and fired up the engine. Grimm climbed into the back and pointed his rifle out the rear window.
They lurched forward, but her mother almost immediately slammed on the brakes at the intersection with the main road.
“What the fuck!” Victoria heard herself shout.
“Language!” Nessa admonished, gesturing for Victoria to look straight ahead.
You’ve gotta be kidding me, Victoria thought. But when she looked up, to her shock, she saw Brady Saussa in front of them, holding the hand of a terrified Penny Van Der Gott.
“Penny!” Victoria gasped, throwing open her door and running forward to sweep Penny off her feet. Grimm was already on the street too, helping Brady to the back.
Victoria tossed Penny into the truck between her and Nessa, when she heard the clank of metal on the concrete and the haunting Pshhhh. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Gas! Oh my God, they’re shooting gas! She clutched Penny tight as she shut the door and rolled up the window. A pale-yellow fog crept across the street all around them. Through the rear-view mirror, she saw Grimm slam Bambi’s rear doors shut, just as her mother launched them forward and careened around the corner.
Oscar and Bambi swerved one way and then another to avoid hitting scrambling pedestrians. With every terrifying near miss, and Penny clinging tightly to Victoria’s neck, a sense of guilt grew stronger in her stomach.
I nearly left Penny behind. And now we’re leaving them all behind.
The crowds thinned as they snaked through the streets toward the township’s northwest gate.
No one would attack this place without blocking all the exits, Victoria fretted silently. She didn’t dare dash their hopes, but she wondered if they would all soon be right back in the fight as soon as they reached the gate.
They arrived to find the gate shut, the guards atop the wall intently focused outward, poised for another assault. He mother beeped the horn, summoning looks of disbelief from the guards.
If we leave now, we’ll never be allowed to come back, Victoria lamented.
A single guard climbed down from his post, with a furious look on his face. Before he could admonish them, her mother rolled down the window and leaned out.
“We’ve been called to the church worksite,” Nessa lied.
It wasn’t what the guard expected, and he stood stupefied for a moment.
“It’s under attack,” Nessa pressed. “We need to get through that gate if we’re gonna make it without gettin’ jumped.”
The still bewildered guard just nodded and begrudgingly gestured to the tower. The gate groaned and creaked as it slowly opened, and the instant it was wide enough to fit through, her mother launched them forward, spitting gravel and dust into the air.
Victoria stared into the door mirrors, anguishing at the sight of scorched walls and plumes of smoke beyond. Their departure was so sudden and so unexpected that the magnitude of it all set upon her only once she saw their burning home from the outside.
No one spoke for some time, as they charged over the bumpy road, as the walls of the township disappearing behind the rolling hills. They kept a good clip for the first few miles, but they were forced to slow to avoid the corpses and burned vehicles increasingly scattered on the road. Victoria’s terrible trip from Cali-Sur, so carefully compartmentalized during her time in Troy—like shadowy phantom images from some other person’s life—clawed back into her mind. She pressed her eyes shut, hoping to squeeze out the cascade of events that had just brought them back to zero.
Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.
“I need you to look out for raiders,” Nessa admonished with a sidelong glance. Victoria drew a deep breath and forced herself to open her eyes and resume scanning their surroundings. She finally loosened Penny’s grip on her arm—being careful to block the child’s view of the window. Victoria then fiddled with the truck’s V-plat, but only got pixels and static.
“There’s no GEO,” Victoria whispered with a tremble of worry. She wished she’d paid more attention to Shay and Uncle Christian during their exhaustive sessions about the rendezvous points.
Her mother reached over Penny and stroked Victoria’s hair. “I know where we’re going.”
Her mother’s words were reassuring, despite the dark smoke smearing the horizon in all directions.
It was well past sunset when they pulled off the road and onto a narrow gravel path. They came to a stop where it dead-ended at a thicket of bushes in a gully. Her mother got out of Bambi, summoning Victoria to run around and take the wheel. As she did, Joshua passed her and disappeared into the darkness with Nessa.
Where the hell are they going? We can’t get separated! She griped to herself.
Several anxious minutes later, her mother and uncle emerged again, offering smiles and a relieved thumbs-up. Victoria pulled the truck forward, through the thicket, up the embankment, and onto a narrow path beyond. Aunt Nessa followed close behind as they wound through a deceased wooded area until they came to a compound of abandoned houses, ringed by a six-foot wall. They drove slowly through the large opening, past the gate that had long-since come off its hinges and disappeared.
“We’re here,” her mother sighed.
“Now what?” Victoria asked.
Her mother looked at her with a disappointed expression. “Now we make a perimeter and hunker down while we wait for the others,” she quipped with exasperatio
n.
Oh yeah, the others, Victoria remembered. The rest of the Lockhearts and whoever else decided to abandon their home and friends.
“In the morning, we secure surroundings and try to think about what to do next,” her mother added.
They parked Bambi and Oscar next to each other just inside the wall—engines running. Victoria carried Penny into the back of Oscar and set her down beside Tim and Honey before grabbing her rifle and joining her mother, Grimm, and Joshua for reconnaissance.
She looked around to find that, just as he had promised, Shay had led them to a small ghost-town community in the middle of nowhere. It was hidden and looked to be easily defended. She couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t occupied by squatters, road raiders, or urchins.
They had just returned from exploring the site when two other work lorries pulled through the same gate. Victoria recognized both as more of Shay’s subcontractors. The Beacon family. Sasha Beacon was a tall and skinny dark-skinned woman with two small kids, Jonathan and Regina. And the rest of the Lockhearts, whom she was relived to see for Grimm’s sake. His father Harry, mother Gretchen, grandmother Martha, sister Pauline—an ideal playmate for poor Penny—and brother Carter, who was about the same age as Tim.
Admiring the greetings of the families—the hugs and smiles and tears—Victoria tried to balance the relief of greater numbers with the anxiety of having more young and burdensome people to look after. Aunt Honey and her mother, though, appeared affirmatively delighted with the added company, and cousin Tim was pleased as punch to have playmates. Grimm was visibly relieved to see his family, though she couldn’t be sure if that would offset his distress at abandoning their first real opportunity for residency in the township.
Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.
But there were more pressing matters at hand. As soon as the salutations were done, and with greater numbers on hand, her mother began following Shay’s instructions to divide the abandoned community into sectors and assign small armed teams to sweep the houses and secure the site with laser alarms and trip wires before diving into the cache of supplies.
Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga) Page 54