by Jeff DeMarco
“Slow down.” He spoke calmly. “Who’s taken Julie?”
“Colonel Petersen, and someone else; someone like us. We went after him, tracked them as far as the facility, but…”
“They’ve gone,” Jacob said. “Haven’t they?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He rubbed at the stress in his temples. “Any indication where?”
“East - Fort Bragg…”
His eyes lit up like firecracker.
Cole shrunk, turning sideways to protect himself. “What?”
Jacob let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Cole. Sorry for everything, but tell me, did Michael say anything else?”
“Well, no.” He uncoiled a little from his standing fetal position. “Why?”
“It’s nothing. Where are you?”
“The facility. And Jacob, there are things here, things you couldn’t even imagine.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Just stay put, ok? I need to handle something, then I’m coming back for you.”
CHAPTER 64
“I’m going to go,” Jacob said. “And you’re going to follow me.”
Pavel’s eyes narrowed on him.
Sacha walked up to the table. “What’re you talking about?”
He looked over. “Making amends… My people need me. I can’t abandon them again.”
“No,” Pavel said. “I can’t allow that. We’ve got objectives in place, procedures. You can’t just-“
“Forget your objectives,” Jacob yelled. “You want to infiltrate The Order… I’ll take you straight to the top. I’m talking leadership, intel, operatives. Eliminate the ones in charge.”
“Use some sense, Jacob!” He slammed his hand down on the table. “We’re not going in with guns blazing like some wild western cowboy shoot ‘em up. That’s not how we operate.”
“You have no concept of American culture, do you?” Jacob cocked his head. “Anyway, that’s not necessary. I’m telling you, I have assets on the ground there.”
Pavel raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure this is where they’ll be?”
“I think,” Jacob said. “Just do this for me, and I’ll be more than happy to go along with whatever you decide.”
Pavel’s mind called out to the team. ‘Gather your gear, we leave in 20.”
Jacob flipped the transmitter on his neckband. “I get my own parachute this time, right?”
Sacha pulled a chute, stowed in an overhead compartment of the commercial airliner; shoved it into Jacob’s chest. “Primary.” She held up a red nylon lanyard. “Backup.” A yellow lanyard. “We’re jumping from high altitude… don’t blackout.” She slipped an altimeter on his wrist. “Pull your primary at 3,000 feet.”
He took her hand and pressed his helmet to hers. “I’ll miss you straddling me.”
She put her palm on his visor, shoving him back playfully. Then her hand to her helmet, blowing him a kiss.
“Alright lovebirds.” Pavel walked down the center aisle, his rifle held at the high ready, parting the two. “Dropzone in 15 minutes.”
“Multiple contacts, Sir,” Lieutenant Colonel Hager said into his radio. “Looks to be a single commercial airliner passing overhead and two fixed wing attack aircraft flying at a lower altitude.”
“Standby.” Nichols ran from his office, growing into a full-blown sprint to the operations center. “Shoot the damn things down!”
“Sir, It’s a commercial airliner, and the chopper is U.S. military equipment… likely friendlies.”
He looked up at the air defense cell, several rows back. “Major Woodward, anything that doesn’t belong to me, shoot it out of the sky.”
A flurry of activity; Woodward saluted. “Roger, Sir. Engaging with sidewinder and patriot missile batteries.”
“Give me that.” Nichols grabbed the handmic. “Net-call, Net-call, Net-call… This is Dragon 6… We’re going to fight like hell today and I think it’s time you all know the truth. Our President is a liar, and a traitor. The creatures we’ve fought, that have brought our nation, our world to the brink of extinction; manufactured within our own borders, by our own leadership. We’ve taken the President as our prisoner. Our enemy may look like children, they may look like hunters, or they may wear the very same uniform as you. Whatever the cost… do not let them have her, do not let them win. Protect our fort, protect our people. Dragon 6, out.” He started off out the door.
CHAPTER 65
Two choppers slipped in stealth and silent, but not unnoticed; not to Michael, Erica and Kristen up in the woodland hills.
Demetri and Julie dropped hard to the ground into a roll; at the west end of Fort Bragg. Another, larger asset dropped in at the east end; its body suspended with multiple parachutes. The choppers spun back, landed in a clearing some five miles away.
Demetri and Julie sprinted; parting ways, they laid in wait at the northeast and southeast corners of the fort. Their minds reached out for the President and General Petersen.
A-10 Thunderbolts roared over the horizon. “Archangel 1 and Archangel 2, this is Warthog 27, Forward Air Controller, Airborne. Mission number Alpha Alpha 1022, We are two A-10 fixed wing, position - 34.987686, -79.474564. Elevation 126 Meters, ” A map displayed in Demetri’s visor, the incoming aircraft moving fast - West to East. “All aircraft equipped with: 30mm Gatling gun, 2 x Mk 84 cluster bomb, 4 x AGM 64 guided missile, 2 x Mk 82, 2,000 Lb. bombs. Playtime three-five minutes, Copy?”
“Copy, Warthog 27, This is Archangel 1. Initial position 35.107204, -79.016178, Battle position is north, 35.151208, -79.080678, heading 310 degrees. Target elevation two-six meters, description and locations incoming.” Demetri ran the line of radar arrays, a lazer designator fixed to his helmet recording each location. He transmitted the grids to the aircraft and circled back to his positon. “Target 1 of 10, radar array, marked by laser, code 4242. Friendlies located 100 meters west from Initial position and Battle Position. Egress east to west. Believe surface to air missiles in vicinity. Fire at will, copy?”
“Damn, son,” Warthog 27 said back. “You sound like an old pro… Time on target five minutes.”
Lieutenant Colonel Hager scrambled, scanning channels for the appropriate frequency. “Any station, this net. Any station, this net. This is Dragon 3.”
“Dragon 3, this is Warthog 27, go ahead.”
“What are you doing, Warthog? We have you on radar heading towards Fort Bragg.”
“That’s a roger, Dragon 3.” The dialect oddly Russian. “Understand you’re a rogue installation, holding the president hostage. We’re all Americans here, and I’d hate to have friendly fire on my conscious, so tell you what… I’m gonna destroy that radar array along your western border one way or the other, so you go ahead and pull everyone you can back.”
Hager pushed his fingers to his eyes. “We don’t have to do this, Warthog. Abort your attack.”
“No can do,” Demetri said, as the first guided bomb impacted.
Hager looked up at Woodward in the Air Defense Cell. “Cease fire!” Palm out in front of his face, his hand shifted up and down.
Woodward called out “Cease fire!” Over the radio. His ear to the hand mic. “Missile’s have been fired, Sir.”
“Warthog, this is Dragon 3, please be advised, you have incoming.”
Demetri reached out, the weight of atmosphere in front of him drove down, as though harnessing the earth’s mass itself; stinger missiles impacted on the far side of the radar array.
The pilot’s voice rang in Demetri’s ear, “Archangel, this is Warthog… Is that you down there? Scanning on my weapons pod - forward looking infrared… you’re lit up like a damn spotlight.”
Demetri stood and waved.
CHAPTER 66
“Go, go, go!” Pavel motioned them through the rear hatch. He grabbed Jacob, the last two onboard. “If you betray me, if this is a trap…” Pavel whispered. “You will beg for death.”
‘There’s no one down there that wants me,’ Jacob whisper
ed back, and for the first time, Jacob showed him; In an instant, Pavel had seen what he’d done. At least parts, excluding the act of unleashing Crimson Sky on the world. He showed him his missions, his life, his trek across the world. He showed Pavel a vision of himself.
Pavel shook his head, taken aback with the moment. He looked at Jacob, then clunked helmets with him and threw him out of the plane.
Jacob’s body swept just under the jet’s rear stabilizer wings, narrowly missing disaster.
Pavel jumped. the plane rigged on autopilot would run out of fuel somewhere over the Atlantic.
“Boom!” A Patriot missile impacted the plane. Jacob looked up, the smoking metal careening downward; A shot went through him, not his own body, but Pavel’s mind reaching out. He looked frantically; Pavel’s lifeless body tumbling through the air.
He ripped his arms around, fruitlessly attempting to swim and flail through the air. Staring down at his hands, he cupped them into the wind and oriented them to propel him forward. He moved faster, faster, too fast - colliding with Pavel.
Jacob looked at his altimeter, ‘2,500 feet,’ then up above, the many parachutes already deployed above him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Pavel and pulled the rip cord.
Their descent was quick. Too quick, as they skidded through densely packed trees. Jacob waited till they stopped, at least fifteen feet off the ground and let go of his white-knuckle grip on Pavel; an audible snap as he hit the ground. He looked down: Pavel’s leg twisted in the wrong direction.
Jacob swung his feet, searching for the safety of a tree’s trunk. He found only limbs pressing painfully into his face. He looked down, Pavel’s body gone from below. His hands gripped the parachute chord; a scolding putty-like sensation as they melted and eventually succumb to gravity, dropping him limp to the pine floor below.
An odd set of sensations: rustling both near and far, visibility as far as the forest would allow, a sort of presence lingered – indistinct, a strange odor – decay mixed with pine needles, mixed with something, and a undiscernible non-rhythmic tremor in the ground.
‘Sacha,’ his mind called out. ‘Pavel.’ He felt the presence move towards him.
“Get down!” a voice called out, followed by intermittent bursts of 7.62 rifle rounds. The scream almost mechanical; the scent growing stronger, despite the presence moving away, loitering in the distance.
“Killed the little one.” Sacha grabbed him under the arm. “Come, we’ve missed the drop zone by five kilometers.”
“Wait.” Jacob stopped in his tracks. “What about Pavel?”
She grabbed his arm. “He knows the rally point, now come.”
He tore loose, running after him. “Pavel!”
She ran to catch up, grabbing him by his pack; she tore him down. “That thing is hunting us, biggest I’ve ever seen, and our best bet is to find help.”
“Biggest you’ve ever… ” He looked at her cockeyed. “Listen, Pavel was with me. Got knocked out by anti-aircraft. I carried him down.”
“Shit.” She hunkered low to the ground. Her eyes began flipping through screens in her visor. “Activate,” she whispered, then stood, grabbing Jacob’s hand. “This way.”
They moved fast under the canopy; through forest brush and undergrowth, through spiderwebs stretched out between trees, down an embankment; the sound of water trickling in the distance.
Jacob noticed a parachute in the distance. “One of ours,” he whispered.
“No.” Sacha ran towards it. “Wrong color, and too many.” She ran towards the harness, connected to three individual parachutes rigged as one. She held up a metallic buckle, intertwined with electronics, and stretched it out into a circle along the ground.
“That thing you shot?”
“No.” She looked around the area for tracks. “That thing was just a baby compared to this.”
Jacob looked at the ground, the harness diameter at least 10 feet across. “What about Pavel?”
“Moving.”
Jacob mulled it over in his mind. “Pretty sure he broke his leg.”
Sacha stopped. “This is bad,” she whispered. “He’s moving northeast, about 10 kilometers an hour.”
CHAPTER 67
“Wait,” Ari yelled, outpaced by all three. Michael and Kristen ran south by southwest; Erica lingered between them, both Ari and the others in sight.
Erica felt a foreign presence, both east and west of her; moving closer, but not at her. To her front, signal interference. To her rear, Ari – a pack of Hunters slowly gaining on her.
Ari heard the rustling behind her; she spun and dropped to her stomach, waiting for them to come up over the ridgeline. She put them down; each round ripping into the hunter’s bodies. A sudden panic struck her. “Erica!” She dropped her magazine and reloaded, sprinting to catch up. The image of her daughter suspended midair; a massive knife point protruding from her sternum.
With each fevered step, Ari’s muscles ached and breath escaped her; the image driving her further, past the breaking point.
“Hell of a mess you’ve got us into, Vivian.” General Petersen remained captive inside the cell, now face to face with his accuser. “Thought you would’ve learned by now.”
Her head turned towards a corner, unable to look him in the eye.
“They’ll come… Kill both of us,” Petersen said. “And then it’s over.”
“Enough!” She snarled. “Your brother will come for me… and you too.”
“Ha… My brother. More likely he’ll kill us, than save us.”
“What would you have me do, then?”
“Nothing now.” He shrugged. “All that’s left to do is die… Unless you’ve got some other trick up your sleeve.”
“I might,” she whispered.
“Objective Matthew clear,” Demetri said. “Awaiting orders.”
Colonel Petersen’s voice rang in both their headsets. “Proceed to objective Mark and Luke.”
They ran east, through a hail of steel at the wire. “Contact.” Julie yelled, several bullets ricocheting off her helmet and armored suit, knocking her off her feet. She recovered, holding her side, feeling the nanites move to the wound. Her mind reached out, links of bullets cooked off like popcorn, jamming the weapons as damaged rounds drug inside the chamber.
Her hand pressed in on her side; a burning shot of heat and pain. She sprinted and leapt, clearing the coils of razor wire.
A large circular operations area along the west of Fort Bragg, surrounded by multi-directional rocket launchers, a concrete building at the center. She waited at the fringe, the launchers oriented skyward. Her mind reached out – interference, too many minds, too much static. She darted forward at a full sprint; surprised at the silence, she slipped the rucksack off her shoulder, then ripped the door from its hinges and walked inside.
She slid over, waiting for gunshots. The room was empty, the seats still warm from being occupied. She slipped the rucksack back on her shoulder, then scanned along the monitors of ruggedized computers, the air defense system set to ‘auto.’ Her fingers touched the control panel, her mind traced the circuitry to its sources; a main cable, battery backups; severing the connections.
A hydraulic hum outside, the rocket launchers slowly lowering their aim down to the ground.
“Archangel 1, this is Archangel 2… Objective Luke cleared.” She heard an explosion in the distance.
“Roger, Archangel 2… No boom?”
“Not necessary,” she said. “Building was abandoned… disabled the whole system.”
Demetri paused a moment. “Copy that, break…” “Warthog 27, Archangel 1… Proceed to Battle Position Bravo, be prepared to provide close air support.”
“Roger, Archangel… Have 2-0 minutes playtime remaining.”
CHAPTER 68
“Move out!” Blanco motioned his team forward. They mounted Humvee’s and drove Northeast towards the signal. “Dragon 3 This is Guardian 6.”
“Roger Gaurdian, Aircraft is 5 mil
es from your position, west by northwest.”
“Roger, Dragon 3,” They sped down paved road 5 miles west, then turned off-road, onto rugged sand and dirt terrain. “Stop here,” he said to the driver. They dismounted, leaving the gunners at their turrets.
The helicopters sat idle, it’s rotors still churning; its engine screamed, drowning out all possibility for verbal communication.
He motioned the main element forward, leaving a marksman and spotter on overwatch. A SEAL scanned the cockpit for a pilot, then shook his head.
Blanco hopped into the cabin; A white plastic device at the center, not unlike a wireless modem; mesh benches and standard equipment and tools. A large green tough-box sitting to the rear of the bulkhead, a black box wired into it, secured to the top with bolts. Blanco moved past it, into the cockpit and shut off the engine.
“The fuck is that,” his Sergeant whispered, now hovering over the tough box.
“Don’t know.” Blanco looked down at it. “Take it all.”
Explosions shook the earth outside the prison, the smell of spent high explosive filled the air. “What the hell?” Dustin spun.
Lieutenant Engel pulled the rolled-up wad out from his boot. “Thermite.” He wrapped it around the bar, both at the top and bottom. “Don’t stare directly at it.”
Dustin tore a strip of fabric from his thin mattress, tied it around the thermite as a makeshift wick.
Engel sparked a match, and lit both wicks at once. Thirmite ignited in a blinding blaze, the ends of metal glowed red hot, dripping to the floor below. As the concoction fizzled, he peeked out from behind his mattress; the bar still in place. “Damnit!” He slammed the heel of his boot into the bar, sending it flying into the cinderblock wall with a metallic ‘ping.’
They squeezed out one by one, tore around a corner and smack, right into another set of bars.
Dustin looked over at Engel. “Any more thermite?”