by Jeff DeMarco
He could have drawn the animals to him, lined them up in a neat little row and shot them, one by one, but he didn’t. Something about it seemed… unfair, too easy. He had taken the easy way far too often, and it had turned to something far more destructive and difficult than he ever could have imagined. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘That’s not me anymore.’
He lay down in the snow, his rifle aimed upwind. He listened, the wind whipping through trees, birds chirping, then rustling; the playful sound of squirrels chasing each other through trees. The tinkle of snow crystals crunching underfoot; a rabbit. He waited, his eyes open scanning for movement.
He saw it, white fur bounding through the snow. It stopped, its tall ears panned each direction, listening for predators. He took aim, its head squarely in the sights. His pulse quickened as his finger touched the trigger. He exhaled, the promise of a meal close at hand.
The rabbit bolted.
He followed it with his sights, wondering whether he was the threat or something else.
Rhythmic beats, ‘Thump – thump,’ drawing closer, ‘Thump – Thump,’ something grey and large, ‘THUMP – THUMP.’ The hum of an engine in the distance.
He fired blindly through brush and heard it tumble in the snow. He jumped up and ran.
The mass of grey flesh and teeth twitched, a yelp of pain, a hole punched through its abdomen.
He lined up the barrel to the wolf’s head and fired. An immediate shriek issued behind him. He spun. “What the hell?”
The hunter leapt, its razor touch dug in to Jacob’s chest; its teeth sunk into his shoulder as he fell. He put his arm across his chest as a shield.
The hunter latched on, tearing at his flesh.
He felt teeth ripping at his arm, then fall limp onto his chest; a bullet wound lodged squarely in its temple. He threw the hunter from him, flipped onto his belly and raised the rifle. His mind searched for life – nothing. His eyes scanned through the trees for movement. He looked down at his bloodied arm, pressed it into the snow, driving cold into the throbbing wounds.
He looked back to the hunter, crawled to it. The entry wound was unmistakable; dirtied, singed flesh surrounded the hole. He heard a faint crunching of boots through snowpack and reached out once more, his senses betrayed him; a tug at his rifle by an unseen force accelerated the weapon through the forest, then out of sight. He hopped to his feet, scanning in all directions.
“They hunt with the wolves now.” The thick Russian accent seemed to come from behind him.
He spun, seeing only an empty forest.
“But they’re not the only ones.” The voice was beside him now.
He lifted his hands, palms open. “I mean you no harm.”
The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his head, dropping him to the floor. A form hovered above him, a form fitting suit, camouflaged winter white, with a matching motorcycle-style helmet. “Shouldn’t have shot my dog, then,” the girl’s voice issued, unmuffled by the full-face mask.
His brow furrowed, wondering whether she was actually speaking, as the rifle butt slammed down into his head, rendering him unconscious.
CHAPTER 21
Surrounded by rolling hills and greenery; Dustin fingered an item in his pocket, circular and metallic, as he looked out the window to peaks and ridgelines covered in softwood forest trees; loblolly pine, eastern white and pitch, longleaf and table-mountain pine. Clear blue rivers and lakes were visible near and far; a veritable wonderland of lush terrain; in contrast to the prickly dried grass and hateful mesquite of Oklahoma. He wished for a moment that his path had brought him here, instead.
The rotors shifted from forward to upright, as the Osprey troop carrier made its vertical landing.
Wind whipped down as the hatch opened. Dustin was the first out, as he led the security team to its overwatch positions.
General Nichols walked up steadily and surely, his uncovered bald head unfettered by the beating wind. “General Petersen!”
Petersen saluted as he walked down the ramp. “Sir!” he yelled over the rotors.
“Come on!” Nichols pointed to a large hangar beside the airfield. “We’re over here.”
Petersen looked back inside of the Osprey’s main compartment; a large green tough box stood curiously in the corner. ‘Find his secrets,’ he thought.
Dustin’s thoughts were simple - ‘Stay safe, come back to me.’
Erica waited till no one but the pilot was in sight, then lifted the tough box concealing her and Ari.
“Good morning, Lieutenant General Nichols, Command Sergeant Major Scarsdale.” Lieutenant Colonel Hager, the Operations Officer, stood at the front of a large semi-circular conference room. “From Fort Sill, Oklahoma - Major General Petersen, Command Sergeant Major Taylor.” He motioned around the room in acknowledgement. “Scott Airforce Base, Illinois - Major Teegs. Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia - Commander Blanco. He looked up at the screen, split into multiple segments. “Over video teleconference, Camp Pendelton, California - Colonel Rick Santiago, Naval Station San Diego, California - Commander Brad Nguyen. Not present - 15th fleet in route from the Persian Gulf, Vice admiral Lincoln. Luke Airforce Base, Arizona - Major General Anton. Macdill Airforce Base, Florida - Special Forces Command Brigadier General Roman and Coast Guard station Port Huron, Michigan - Commander Easton. Thank you all for coming.” He leaned down to a phone on a desk. “Fort Benning, Georgia - Drill Sergeant Garret via cellphone only. Can you hear me ok?”
Garret responded, “Coming in loud and clear, Sir.”
He motioned to General Nichols.
“It’s a grim situation, I know.” General Nichols stood. “But as you can see from the military posts we still have online, we are not without hope. Every day we find more and more survivors. Beat the enemy back further into submission, cut off their food supply. What we know thus far, the command to distribute what’s now known as ‘Crimson Sky,’ originated from multiple points through automated messages. The Distribution points are from primarily Airforce installations within the U.S. Despite our best efforts, we are unable to trace the sole individual that initiated the attack.”
Petersen sat silent. Erica’s voice inside his head said, ‘naughty naughty,’ for knowing the truth.
“Human intel,” Nichols said. “has provided the organization and location for the outbreak. Mind you, this attack was carried out by our Military, but it was coordination from within our own government. A group called The Order of the Double-Edged Sword…”
Petersen’s heart dropped, though his face remained calm.
“Consider them the Christian extremists, engaged in the highest level of treason,” Nichols said. “Our rules of engagement are clear. Any member of The Order, their creations – The hunters, you’re to capture, interrogate and/ or execute on site
Petersen’s face turned flush, thinking of his brother. “General Nich..” He cleared his throat. “Nichols, where are you getting all this?”
“We’ll talk offline…” Nichols whispered, then raised his voice. “We don’t have the combat power at present to effectively go on the offensive. For now, my priorities of work are base defense, logistics and extermination of the hunters.”
“Sir,” Dustin rose to attention. “We have a virologist and-“
Petersen put his hand on him. “We have a virologist, very bright woman. She’s looking for a cure to infection.”
“Great news,” Nichols said. “Until that takes place, I want our units out on search and destroy missions, killing as many of these creatures as possible. Teegs, for you, I’ll need your aircraft. Got a years-worth of harvests sitting in grain silos and rotting on the vine across the country. Link up with…” He stared down at Jaeger, reading his name tape. “Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger after this; you’ll need some of his civilian workforce to bring that harvest in.”
Jaeger gave an odd look to General Petersen, a breach of subordinate order.
“Washington is gone.” Nichols stared out into the crowd. “Our po
liticians, gone. The task falls to our military: destroy our enemy, establish order, provide security for the American people.”
Jaeger leaned over to General Petersen, as the briefing ended. “What the hell?”
“It’s fine,” he whispered. “Probably just his command style.”
“It’s a shit detail.” Jaeger stood from his seat and rolled his eyes. “Major Teegs!” he said with a sarcastic smile, walking a few rows down the line. “Let’s talk about… Grain.” He spat the words with a repulsed sneer.
“Logistics, Sir.” Teegs laughed. “Loads of fun.”
“Ugh.” He grabbed a map board off a desk, scribbling potential target areas.
The SEAL team from Naval Station Norfolk moved swiftly, a short hour by helicopter, a half hour of digging and blasting had cut a path to the top hatch of the bunker. A Secret Service agent was the first out, then Alpha 4 and Alpha 3, then Vivian, another Secret Service agent, Then Alpha 1. The two Secret Service agents surrounded her, both in their black suits, sunglasses and earpieces. Order agents, Alpha 1, 3 and 4 stood guard as the SEAL team led them back to the bird. As they walked, Alpha 1 dropped a blade down into his left hand from the sleeve of his black fatigues. He had waited. They were on the chopper now, the rush of wind deafening. He sat beside the Vice President, as a SEAL operator looked over his sunglasses and yelled, “George?”
He looked over his sunglasses. “Aaron?”
“Yea man!” he yelled, extending his hand out, as the helicopter took off.
‘Shit!’ he thought, as they began their ascent. He slapped Aaron’s hand as he looked down. ‘Too high to jump, too high to make an escape.’ He shimmied the blade back up its sleeve and into its scabbard.
CHAPTER 22
“You know what worries me, Colby?” Major Eckert stepped out of the Humvee, strapped his helmet on.
Captain Colby chuckled to himself, his immediate thought, ‘your hairline?’ “No, Sir. What’s that?”
“I think we’re taking it too easy on these lazy civilians… 8 hour shifts, free food, shelter.”
Colby looked at him sideways.
“What do you think of mandatory 12 hour shifts, half rations…”
“Ummm.” Colby’s mouth hung open.
“After all, it’s going to be a long winter,” Major Eckert walked towards First Sergeant Hawk.
“Sir, respectfully, I think that’s a horri-“
“First Sergeant!” Eckert returned Hawk’s salute. “We’re making some changes.”
‘Oh God…’ Hawk thought, as he stood at parade rest.
“I think first, we’ll put all the civilians on a mandatory 12 hour shift… really make them work for their food… of which, they’ll receive half.”
“Sir,” Hawke spoke in as respectful a tone as possible. “The people, they’re already at their wits end. I wouldn’t be surprised if-“
“Nonsense!” Eckert said with a smile in his voice. He leaned in to Hawk and whispered, “We’re the ones with the guns, remember?” He looked over at Colby. “Keep at the farming. We’ll need it for winter. I want to focus on better fortifications... Position improvement. A tank ditch surrounding the Fort.” He stared up at the horizon. “A 20 foot berm, more razor wire, more machine gun nests… I want to be ready when we’re attacked again.”
Hawk closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
Eckert looked at both him and Colby. “Are we good?”
Hawk came to attention and saluted. “Roger, Sir.” His voice seemed unmoved by Major Eckert’s motivation.
They walked to the Humvee. Colby looked back at Hawk with a somber note, as if to say, ‘I’m sorry.’
“I rather like it this way.” General Nichols smiled, walking alongside General Petersen. “It’s kill or be killed… only the strong survive.”
Petersen looked at him with an odd glance. “I was concerned, given our last meeting.”
“You mean the one where the Senate Armed Services Committee was fawning all over you? Throwing soft-ball questions.” Nichols pushed the door open to a dark hallway. “The same that I was hung out to dry? The same that I nearly lost my career?”
“Seem to remember you came out of it alright.” Petersen walked in behind him.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Nichols shut the door behind them. “Your career’s been handed to you; laid out as stepping stones, where I’ve had to crawl through the mud; fight my way to the top.”
Petersen stood silent, seeing the truth in Nichol’s words.
“I don’t much care to look at things in a complex manner, The Order, the hunters… enemies. The stronger combatant will survive.” He stared at Petersen in the darkness. “… And inherit the earth.”
Petersen walked alongside General Nichols into the darkness. “How’d you find out about them?” he asked quietly.
Petersen looked at the walls, copper pipe run along the edges, similar to the room they held Luca in.
Nichols walked down the corridor to an interior door, intensely lit at the door jam, a loud rhythm and intense screams grew as the door opened. There were no pipes along the walls, rather mattresses to muffle the blaring music. The man’s face was red from exposure to the powerful ultraviolet light, only inches from his face. His arms were up, behind his back, his elbows locked out and hands shackled to a bar. “Well, Captain Duggan,” He raised Duggan’s head to meet his. “You going to tell us the names of any other operatives?”
Duggan’s bloodshot, exhausted eyes looked at him, silent.
Shock hit Petersen when he recognized the young captain. They had met at a military seminar, introduced only briefly, an initiate of Director Flynn. Petersen was thankful for the Captain’s silence. “That doesn’t bother you, Sir?”
“That? It’s nothing. Just some stress positions, bright lights and loud music…” Nichols looked back with a smirk. “Some people pay for that sort of thing.” He walked down the row and opened a door to a room in which a girl was sitting still; a collar around her neck, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her feet flat on the floor. The cut on her lip and dual black eyes suggested abuse of some sort.
“What’d you do to her?” Petersen asked, watching a figure move in shadows at the back of the room.
“I don’t ask.” He nodded to the man in black fatigues, standing in the corner. “He doesn’t tell.”
“What’s that collar you’ve got around her neck?”
“Plastic explosive, sensors to detect and control electromagnetic frequencies transmitted by her.”
Petersen looked confused.
“She’s not human, if you think this is inhumane.”
“Not human?” Petersen walked up to her. “Looks pretty damn human.”
“Don’t touch her.” Nichols grabbed him.
He shucked Nichols’ hand. “What’s your name, little girl?” Petersen knelt down in front of her.
“Hey!” Nichols grabbed him again. “These genetically enhanced children, these creatures, The Order of the Double Edged Sword… we’re going to hunt them down, kill all of them.”
“What you’re going to do..” Petersen turned and glared at him. “is let that girl and that Captain go.”
Nichols let out a long, hard belly laugh, then ‘CRACK,’ planted a right cross to Petersen’s jaw.
He dropped hard to the floor, as the man in black fatigues walked up on him.
“Giving me orders, Petersen?” Nichols reared his leg back, the ‘CRACK,’ kicked Petersen square in the face. “You think I’d let you in here if I didn’t already know about you?”
Petersen held his bloodied face, as the man in black fatigues bent his other arm around his back.
“You think I don’t know who you are? You can thank my prisoner… It’s a brand new world, Petersen. You can bet your ass that you and your kind won’t be a part of it.”
Petersen glared at him with contempt.
Nichols looked at the man in black fatigues. “Soften him up, see what he knows.”
&n
bsp; CHAPTER 23
“We got problems, Sir.” First Sergeant Hawk set down on a spent rocket pod. “Got drugs running through the post.”
“Tell me about it.” Captain Colby sat down beside him, hacking on a piece of gum. “I wouldn’t mind if it was a little bit of pot. I keep finding heroin, opioids, pills… nasty stuff.”
“You tell Major Eckert?”
“Hell no,” Colby whispered. “Between you and me, that guy’s useless. All talk. Doesn’t know his ass from an impact crater.”
Hawk let out a long belly laugh, nearly falling from the pod.
Colby caught him, nearly tumbling himself. “Thinks if he gets all this ‘good idea fairy’ shit done; digging tank ditches and such, he’ll get promoted when the boss gets back.”
Hawk held his sides from laughter, then straightened his face. “You know why Major and Lieutenant Colonel insignia is an oak leaf, right?”
Colby cocked his head.
“Oh yea…” Hawk leaned in. “Goes back to biblical times… All the way to Genesis.” His tone was a hair above a whisper, as if it was some big secret. “They used leaves to cover those things up.”
Colby’s brow furrowed; then he cracked a big smile, laughter erupting from him, “Aaaaahahahaha…. Cause he’s a prick!”
The laughter subsided as they let out a collective sigh. “I’ve got an idea to nip this drug problem in the bud,” Hawk said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “If you’re ok with it.”
“Shoot,” Colby said.
“You listening in?” Hawk said.
“Umm…” Colby shot him a confused look. “Yea.”
Hawk put his finger up. “Just wait for it.”
‘What’s up?’ the voice rang, unseen, through both Colby and Hawk’s mind.
Colby recoiled.
“Crazy, huh?” Hawk said. “I had the kid do a walkthrough with me the other day. He can… sense the biological status of… I don’t know, something science-y sounding. Basically, he can tell if people around him are high and what they’re high on.”