5 Years After

by Richard Correll

  “Can you take us up to that ramp?” She gestured to the driver and pointed toward the on ramp. “I want some separation from these things and it’s a better field of fire.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” He instantly grasped her idea. “Good idea.”

  The driver pulled a u turn and headed eastbound before breaking traffic regulations a second time with a 180 degree turn up the northbound 427 on ramp. The door hissed open and Maggie ran hard to the edge of the highway overlooking the 401 to see what they were up against. A slow, glacial tidal wave moved forward. They were spilling in from the off ramps and onto the 401. Faces, hands and figures were like crests on a wave. There for a second before being lost in the sea, one hundred thousand, two hundred thousand?

  “Fuck.” She whispered slowly through suddenly dry lips.

  Maggie’s eyes began to widen uncontrollably and her feet felt like clay. She felt herself rooted to the ground, unable to move. There was a cold, wormlike shiver from everywhere at once. She tried to count to ten to fight off an uncontrollable urge to scream in rage. Breathe, she tried to tell herself. You have to think clearly now, breathe.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” A private beside her asked.

  “Oh,” Did I just talk out loud? It stopped the cycle inside her head and gave her a second to focus. “I said at least 150,000, maybe more.”

  “How do we stop them?” He suddenly looked so young, needing an answer.

  “We can’t.” Maggie met his eyes and didn’t blink. He needs you. “At least not here.”

  Speed was relative. It had always been said that the hostiles were slow. It was as if they were learning to walk all over again. But in the time it had taken Maggie to get in position they had traversed more than a hundred yards. The scattered rifle fire from below had increased tenfold. Not enough ammunition, her eyes seemed to get tense as she made the calculation. Not enough ammunition, people and weapons. As her platoon joined in the chorus of fire, she returned to the bus and grabbed the radio.

  This is 427/401, Charlie team.” Maggie made her voice calm with the driver close by, “Requesting permission to pull back.”

  “Charlie team,” It was one of Jay’s staff. “Stand your ground. Repeat, stand your ground.”

  “Say again?” She had heard them the first time. She had replied in shock, her anger had found a target.

  “Stand your ground.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” She could just feel herself letting go like a snapping rubber band. Emotional shackles strained to the limit began breaking from the pressure within. “We have at least two hundred thousand hostiles approaching and we have about a thousand troops on this line.”

  “You need to stand your ground.” The voice repeated. “Help is on the way.”

  “What kind of help, sir?” Maggie had a good guess of the reserves that were available. It wasn’t even close to good enough. If people were going to die she didn’t want to take the fall.

  “STAND YOUR FUCKING GROUND!” It was a new voice, Otto Jay.

  “Sir, we cannot hold this position with or without help.” Fine, let’s go down in flames. She had an exhilarating sense of ferocious recklessness begin to drive her adrenalin. Fuck ‘em, she decided. If they’re going to charge me with something I have to be alive for them to do it.

  “I gave you an order!” He bellowed.

  “Give me an order I can follow!” She was shouting now and didn’t care. “Give me an order that will not get my people killed!”

  “STAND YOUR GROUND!!!!!!” Jay’s voice was so loud the microphone was distorting.

  “You’re going to lose the airport, do you understand?” She was shouting back louder now. It was all the better she was having it out with this asshole. “You need to get off your ass and turn any planes heading to Pearson around!”

  “I RELIEVE YOU OF COMMAND!!” Jay’s voice bellowed and the driver turned suddenly toward the speaker and then to Maggie.

  “Great! I’ll hand it over to the first person who fucking gets here!” Maggie had passed the point of rage and was in full stress release mode. “In the meantime, are you off your ass yet?”

  “God damnit, Hunter!!!”

  “You need to call EMS, fire and police to evacuate the residential areas near Pearson.” Maggie was pure postal now. “If you don’t people are gonna die!”

  The line went dead. Maggie thought about sending the microphone through the windshield but instead sighed and replaced it in its cradle. Her eyes scanned the 401/427 through the bus windows and the ragged line of defense. The northbound lanes were swallowed completely in a sea of bodies in motion. The tide had spilled out on to the southbound lanes and was running into the re-enforcements Jay had promised. A Scorpion APC was suddenly an island in an ocean. It started to turn back but was blinded by hands and fingers pressing into every slit and crevice. A Coyote paused and ripped off a loud burst that sounded like a machine gun in an echo chamber.

  You can do that all day, Maggie concluded. It just won’t do any good. You’re pissing on a rain forest. The Coyote’s command hatch popped open briefly. A half figure popped out and five seconds later slammed his hands on the turret as he screamed an order. The eight wheels of the Coyote began to reverse away from the gathering darkness. It was like a large painted canvas before her. The nuances of the individual were gone now. It played out in several directions like water being poured on pavement from above. Gunfire was in all directions. It was a scattered, weak and helpless response to the beast unchained. Maggie’s feet were down the steps in a second. She tapped on shoulders while issuing orders. It was only a matter of time before they found their way up here.

  “Get ready to pull out when I give the word.” She kept repeating the order to each one of her people. When she got to the end of the firing line she ran back and shouted at the bus driver over the rifle fire and distance between them. He seemed transfixed at the approaching chaos.

  “Hey!” Maggie watched him jump at the sound of her voice. “We’re going to retreat north on the 427 to the fence line at Pearson.”

  “Yes ma’am!” He nodded quickly.

  Maggie could feel herself coming back. It was strange how all the rage, fear and pain seemed to retreat at the rush of people who nodded and listened to her voice and trusted her. If they trust you, she told herself through shallow breaths. You need to trust yourself. The driver’s affirmative nod and relief at her control of the situation made life take on a course she could pilot.

  If only the son of a bitch could see what I’m like on the inside, it occurred to her. Man, he’d be outta here so fast.

  Maggie happened to look to the west and froze. A second wave of hostiles was on the 401 east and westbound, behind her position and heading toward Pearson. The line guarding the 427 between Rathburn and Burnhamthorpe had clearly been breached. They were heading up the ramp toward them while others made a straight line toward Pearson. They were like a wildfire spreading in all directions. She stood solid and fired toward the first few figures heading up the ramp.

  Maggie squeezed the trigger and didn’t even wait to see the results. It was easy to find a target. She sighted again and fired. It was like trying to kill raindrops in a monsoon. Maggie finally looked up from her scope and said aloud; “This is fucking useless.”

  The ramp to her position started to become congested. Was it the noise of the gunfire? Was it the sweet smell of skin being blown their way by a slow after rain breeze? It didn’t matter. Their time was up. They had been seen.

  “Okay people,” She was shouting now at the top of her lungs. “On the bus, lets’ go!”

  Maggie knelt down into a firing position to give cover fire and carefully sighted the first figures moving toward her. Her first was a police officer with a faced that seemed only partially completed. The cheeks, nose and ears had been chewed away. The first few layers of skin had been peeled back to expose blood blackened skin. She paused her breathing and squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck with such force that his
arms flailed in the air in unison while the back of the skull exploded on exit. Her C7A2’s barrel moved a millimeter to the next target. He had been a short order cook or something with a white apron and massive belly. Again, her heart and breath suspended at the squeeze of the trigger. The bullet caught the upper left cheekbone and blew the entire left side of his head away. As the body began to fall, Maggie swore the eye of the right side of his face was glaring at her.

  A hand touched her shoulder and Maggie swung her rifle butt around and made contact with something solid. Only when she blinked did she feel like an idiot.

  “Whoa,” the private said who was lying on the ground. He looked at her after a second and spoke; “Ma’am, we have to go.”

  “Fuck, sorry about that.” She stood up and helped him to his feet while turning toward the approaching wave. What had once been a few individual forms now became the crest of a deluge. They seemed to pack together naturally. The closer the better, safety in numbers? The elevation briefly gave a second to survey the west and east bound lanes of the 401. Another one hundred thousand, the number easily came to mind. Maggie and the private quickly ran back to the bus. This is what hopeless feels like, she thought with a second backward glance.

  Maggie almost tripped as she hustled up the stairs of the bus. She had a second to look through the closing Plexiglas doors of the bus at the 427/401 firing line. It was gone now. An uneven wall of darkness was in its’ place. Please tell me you guys didn’t stand your ground, was her first thought. It occurred to Maggie how ineffective traditional military tactics were now. Harassing fire was useless. They did not fear. They just attacked. They did not take cover nor break and run. Above all, they did not take prisoners.

  The bus lurched forward and Maggie watched their pursuers start to fall behind in a cloud of exhaust. She had been relieved of command but no one had showed up to take her place just yet. Fine, Maggie reached for the microphone. It’s still my gig.

  “427/401 line, this is Charlie company.” Maggie knew she was probably going to get shot or something. “We are in retreat toward Pearson.”

  “Roger that.” A harried voice cut in. “What part of Pearson?”

  “I’m gonna try and form a line near the fence just north of the 401.” She thought it might be wise to slow them down there, “If you can meet up with us, great.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Any other units,” Maggie was way out of her rank here. But, aside from her voice the radio was deathly silent. “Any units, try forming up halfway between the 401 and 407. Derry road is a good bet.”

  “This is Alpha Company. Derry road it is.”

  “Delta Company. We’re heading toward Derry.”

  “Good luck, guys.” She could think of nothing else to say.

  “You too, Maggie,” There was a reply from a voice that Maggie struggled to put a name to.

  “Who the fuck is retreating?” The new voice was Jay. It sounded like he was in a vehicle. “I thought I fucking relieved you, Hunter. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m saving us from being slaughtered.” Maggie was sick of his bullshit. “Your help arrived, seriously? A couple of APC’s and a hundred guys?”

  “That line could have held.” The speaker was distorting non-stop now.

  “Against two hundred thousand hostiles?” She was incredulous. “You are totally fucked.” After a second, she added sarcastically: “Sir.”

  “You are dead.” He was hoarse from shouting now. “You know you are dead.”

  “This is 427 firing line, Baker Company.” The voice was monotone. Shock, the fucking guy is in shock. Maggie thought.

  “Hey,” Maggie softened her voice as the entrance to Pearson came closer. “How are you doing?”

  “Who is this?” Jay demanded.

  “Sergeant Chong, Sir.” His voice was close to disembodied.

  “Goddamnit, Chong.” His voice rose slightly. “Don’t listen to her.”

  “Are you okay?” Maggie ignored Jay.

  “When the rain cleared they were right on top of us”. His voice was a sleep walk. “We fell back to the command post but they were gone.”

  “Chong, listen to me….” Jay began.

  “You bugged out on us,” Chong interrupted insubordinately. There was a pause, just long enough for Chong to take a breath. “What do we do, Maggie?”

  “Get as far away as you can.” She gave an order she knew he’d want to follow. Christ, Johnny sounded rough. Maggie could hear it in his voice. They must have been mauled. “Can you make it to the 410?”

  “Will do,” Chong replied. Jay was clearly no longer listening.

  “Hang in there, bud.” It was all she could offer him. “Johnny, try and make it to the west side of the overpass.”

  “The west side, roger that.” He was coming back, doing something always seemed to have that effect. “Are you gonna blow the overpass?”

  “Yup.”

  “I never liked Jay.” The driver offered after a minute or two of silence as they began to pull into Pearson.

  “Well, you guys heard. I’ve been relieved.” Maggie looked up and made eye contact with a few of them. “Hell, I’m just a Corporal.”

  “Ma’am,” A voice in the back began. “When you were in the states you were a lot more than a Corporal.”

  “How do you know?” Her face screwed up as a question mark.

  “It’s pretty easy to tell.” The voice replied. “Now, what do we do?”

  “We stay alive.” Maggie spoke after a pause. “We’ll try and hold the line at Pearson if we can”

  The response was their full attention a few heads slowly nodding. They were in.

  “If we can’t hold Pearson, we retreat until we find a place we can hold.” She leaned forward on a silver safety rail. “But damn it guys, make sure you stay alive. We have lost enough people today.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” The reply was whispered.

  As Maggie was wondering how many of the 401 line had managed to get out there was a roar from above that announced another jet was landing. Her mouth dropped open and formed a zero as she watched the aircraft bank for the runway.

  “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” A voice articulated what everyone was thinking.

  “After all of this,” Maggie watched the A340 Airbus Cargo plane touch down while the bus made its way onto the tarmac and pulled a left turn toward the fence. “They are still landing planes.”

  Jay’s voice was inside her mind for a second and became the focus of her anger. Maggie paused briefly and blinked before she reached for the smooth plastic of her Blackberry. The bastard has probably not contacted EMS, Police and Fire about the breach. She flicked the 911 number in her address folder before raising the device to her ear.

  “911.” An almost automatic voice answered. “Please state the nature of your emergency.”

  “This is Corporal Maggie Hunter.” Maggie tried her best professional voice on for size. “We have a breach on the 427/401 line.”

  “Say again, please.”

  “We have a breach on the 427/401 line.” Maggie’s voice was even tempered now. Perhaps numbers would get things moving. “We have about 250,000 hostiles in Etobicoke past the 427 line and also heading north toward Pearson. You need to evacuate.”

  “Corporal,” The voice was icy calm. “We need to hear from your CO before evacuation proceedings can begin.”

  Like that was going to happen. Maggie balled her free hand into a fist. The bus had crossed a patch of tarmac and was heading to the grassy divide between the landing strip and the security fence. Already there were figures massing on the other side of the metal divide. The silver fence was starting to sway slowly like a tent caught in a wind gust.

  “We’ve lost contact with my CO, sir.” Maggie offered. “Look, do you have a bird in the air right now?”

  “We have a helicopter on patrol right now, ma’am.” The operator’s monotone was starting to feel bizarre in the midst of
the chaos.

  “If you could just fly over the area and get a visual.” Maggie almost pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I will send the message, Corporal.” The operator agreed amid rising noise behind his voice. The word was getting out.

  “Thank you.” Maggie terminated the call and glanced at the driver who was staring at her now they had rolled to a stop. She had to ask: “What?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” The driver’s attention was divided between her face and the Blackberry. “How can you afford that thing on a Corporal’s pay?”

  “I have a sister who has a real job.” Maggie said sarcastically and headed for the door.

  Two more buses came up behind and braked to a halt just off the runway. The silver security fence was just fifty yards away and it reminded Maggie of Dante’s inferno. Faces crushed themselves into the chain metal while fingers twisted and turned like fat worms, desperate to come a few inches closer to the thing they hungered for. At first it felt like an optical illusion to Maggie as she stepped closer to the fence and slipped the safety off. No, it was real. The fence was moving forward, bending an inch at a time from the pressure of so many bodies pushing in a single direction. It was like an engine gauge bending toward red line.

  PING! A pole gave way to the inevitable force.

  “Forget it!” Maggie turned and waved them back on to the bus. With her back to the fence she saw a massive structure in the sunlight. The high tension wires south of Derry Road. “Can you guys head north and form a picket line?”

  “The towers?” A Sergeant from another bus gestured northward.

  “Yes sir,” Maggie suddenly noticed his rank. “Sorry sir, I didn’t see your stripes.”

  PING! A second pole gave way and made them turn toward the fence.