A Hole in the Sky (34 page)

Capelli lowered the weapon in time to see the tapered cylinder land on the smelter’s parking lot, where it crushed two Stalkers before breaking into three sections and sending a thick cloud of coal dust up into the air.

Rowdy barked excitedly as Capelli put the LAARK down and grabbed hold of the Marksman. The plan was to leave the launcher where the stinks could find it—and to eliminate as much weight as possible. “Come on, boy,” Capelli said as he stood. “It’s like the man said … Let’s run like hell.”

It would take the Chimera at least ten minutes to figure out the angle of attack, send some ’brids to check out the area from which the rockets had been fired, and find the LAARK. And Capelli planned to make the most of the lead time.

Rowdy took the lead as they followed a zigzag course between derelict houses and onto a street that led towards the rising sun. The fiery disk was big, bright orange, and a potential ally.

With that in mind he pounded his way toward the
church he had identified more than an hour earlier. It, like every other building in Blackwell, had been broken into during the many months since the fall. The structure’s arched windows stared sightlessly at the street, the front door hung askew, and the interior was badly trashed.

But Capelli had no time for sightseeing. His left boot came down on a hymnal as he opened a door and followed a flight of twisting, turning stairs upwards. The steeple was home to a bell, with louvered shutters on all four sides.

Capelli used the rifle butt to shatter four horizontal strips of wood on the west wall and shoved the weapon’s barrel out through the resulting hole. Then, he ordered Rowdy to stay, and put his eye to the telescopic sight. What he saw was what he had expected to see.

Having determined that the attack had come from the east, the Chimeran hive-mind sent two dozen Hybrids in that direction. Capelli’s position was well concealed, and with the rising sun behind him, he eyed the oncoming mob. From his vantage point above and in front of the aliens he could see each one of them, including the stinks towards the rear.

So rather than alert the entire group by firing on the first row, Capelli took careful aim at the very last alien. The creature’s head rose and fell rhythmically as it ran. Capelli waited for the ’brid to sink fractionally, applied pressure to the trigger, and felt the wooden stock kick his shoulder. A fraction of a second later, the Chimera’s head came up and blossomed into a bloody cloud. Those at the front of the formation heard the gunshot, but assumed the projectile had missed, as they began to spread out.

But Capelli was ready for that and continued to harvest alien lives until the survivors realized what was happening and sought cover. That was his cue to exit the
steeple as the half-blinded ’brids began to pepper the structure with Bullseye and Auger fire. It sounded like a hailstorm had hit the church as hundreds of projectiles struck the front of the building and pencil-thin rays of light stabbed the gloomy interior. Splinters flew all around them, and the church shook like a thing possessed as Capelli and Rowdy bolted out through the back door.

Now he had to run—confident in the knowledge that the Chimera were well and truly hooked. But could Capelli stay ahead of them? That was the question. And the answer was maybe.
If
he could sustain the right pace, stay hydrated, and maintain situational awareness.

And it wasn’t too difficult at first. The air was cold, Capelli was fresh, and as he left Blackwell for the flat countryside to the east there was nothing significant to slow him down. So in half an hour Capelli covered about four miles. He had established a good rhythm, and was jogging down the white line, when two rows of projectiles blew divots out of the road to either side of him. A Chimeran fighter roared over his head seconds later and arced away.

Capelli swore, turned to the right, and jumped over a drainage ditch. Within a matter of seconds he was in knee-high wheatgrass. It had been taller back towards the end of summer, but a succession of snowfalls had beaten it down. Still, it was the only cover available, so Capelli went facedown in the field as the fighter came in for a second run. Projectiles struck, columns of half-frozen soil soared into the air, and dirt rained back down. But Capelli and Rowdy were a good ten feet outside the main impact area. So only a small quantity of dirt landed on them. The incoming projectiles had been close, however. Too close, as Capelli jumped to his feet.

The fighter was dangerous, no doubt about that, but
it was fast, so fast it couldn’t slow down enough to effectively engage such a small ground target. While the aircraft was banking away, and preparing to make another gun run, Capelli had time to advance. Even if he couldn’t get very far. Of course, that strategy wouldn’t work for very long. Sooner or later the fighter pilot would get lucky. And even if the Chimera didn’t, it seemed safe to assume that more stinks were closing in from the west.

So as Capelli jogged forward he kept an eye peeled for the grove of scraggly trees, the outhouse next to it, and the old travel trailer. The very sight of them was like an injection of energy. He ran forward as the fighter circled to the north, jerked the trailer’s metal door open, and grinned. The L11-2 Dragon was right where he had left it. Along with a canteen full of water, a couple of candy bars, and a first-aid kit.

The Marksman went over Capelli’s shoulder; he stuffed one of the candy bars into his mouth, and took hold of the flamethrower with both hands. Then, he backed away from the Airstream and turned and ran. A burst of explosive projectiles plowed through the trailer with a roar and shattered a tree beyond.

Capelli was pursuing a zigzag course by then, firing the Dragon as he ran. The wheatgrass was damp and slow to catch fire, but once aflame the stubble produced plenty of black smoke. It blew from west to east and provided Capelli with some much-needed concealment.

After ten minutes of continual use the Dragon ran out of fuel. So Capelli threw it away and continued east, knowing that every step carried him closer to his goal. He was starting to tire a bit, but knew it was important not only to keep running, but to reach the next dump. A place where he could make a momentary stand if he chose to.

As a veil of smoke blew over Capelli’s head, and the
fighter strafed a spot half a mile to the south, he followed a game trail down into a gully. Rowdy came to a stop and began to bark madly as hundreds of Leapers surged up and out of the depression. Had they been sent to intercept him? There was no way to be sure, but Capelli didn’t think so. He figured it was a piece of bad luck. As was the fact that he was armed with a Marksman rather than a Rossmore. The latter being far more effective where massed targets were concerned.

But all he could do was rely on what he had. So Capelli was forced to back up towards the wall of fire he had created as he sent one of the rifle’s semiautonomous Drones out over the gully. The device immediately went to work killing the stinks, but even more boiled up out of well-hidden caves.

Fortunately, Rowdy was there to keep the scorpion-like horrors from surging in around the human. The dog was like a whirling dervish as he darted in and out with his jaws snapping. Leaper claws flashed, and potentially lethal tails whipped back and forth, as Rowdy scored kill after kill.

Thanks to the deadly turrets, plus well-aimed projectiles from the Marksman, and Rowdy’s fighting prowess, the twosome managed to stay on their feet as the fire closed in from behind. And that was when Capelli ran out of ammo. It left him with no choice but to reach for one of the four grenades he was carrying.

Rowdy snarled as he tore into a Leaper and the air-fuel grenade arced into the mass of oncoming bodies. With a loud whump the device went off; flames consumed the remaining Leapers, and they began to scream.

“Rowdy!” Capelli shouted. But only a shrill whistle could pull the dog away from the stink he was savaging. The animal’s muzzle and head were covered in gore. Capelli and Rowdy ran forward, jumping bodies whenever necessary, making for the gully and the high ground beyond.
Then something hit the field fifty feet in front of them and exploded.

Capelli paused to look back and saw that a Titan and two Ravagers had managed to pass through a gap in the wall of fire. A gang of Hybrids was following along behind. Another cannon shell was on its way, and it would have scored a direct hit on both man and dog, if they hadn’t been scrambling up the bank.

With a Titan and two Ravagers on his tail, it was critical for Capelli to reach the supply dump and do so quickly. A big farmhouse appeared on the left as he topped the slope and paused to hurl his remaining grenades at the oncoming Chimera. They exploded in quick succession. The last was an air-fuel grenade that wrapped a Hybrid in a cocoon of yellow-orange flames.

Without waiting to see the results of his efforts, Capelli raced across an open area towards the southeast corner of the wraparound porch, where the stash was hidden. Pieces of lumber flew as he tossed them aside to reveal a piece of canvas and the items hidden beneath it.

The dump included two canteens of water, an M5A2 Carbine, and most important of all, a Wraith minigun. Not the faulty weapon from Haven’s original arsenal, but a brand-new unit taken off the
Suzy Q
and transported to the site by mule. It was a weapon Capelli carried frequently during his days with the Sentinels.

The Wraith might work on the Titan
, the Hale voice observed dispassionately,
but what about the Ravagers? Their shields will protect both them
and
the Hybrids
.

Capelli knew the voice was correct but could only handle one thing at a time as he shoved M5A2 magazines into empty ammo pouches, replaced his mostly empty canteens with fresh ones, and took the minigun into his arms.

The Titan was climbing up out of the gully by then. Only his head and shoulders were visible, but it wouldn’t
be long before the giant towered above Capelli, unless he could cut the stink down to size before then. Wraiths were notoriously difficult to fire, both because of their incredible weight and the fact that the rotary barrels could put out 1,200 rounds per minute. That produced a lot of recoil and caused the weapon to rise up off its target unless controlled.

But Capelli was not only strong, he was something of an artist with a minigun. He fired a tight grouping of bullets and the monster staggered. The Chimera was tough, however, and still managed to fire its cannon.

Capelli felt the heat the projectile produced as it flew past him and hit a tool shed, reducing the structure to kindling.
Stay on it
, the voice ordered sternly.
You’ve got to kill that thing before the Ravagers arrive
.

Capelli wanted to tell the voice to shut up but knew doing so would be pointless. So he kept the trigger down, walked the minigun projectiles back and forth across the Titan’s chest, and swore when the weapon clicked empty. He dropped the Wraith and was reaching for the carbine as he backed away. The Titan swayed uncertainly, seemed to steady itself, and exploded.

That was good, but not good enough, as the Ravagers topped the rise and opened fire from behind their translucent shields. Hybrids were following along behind them. Rowdy barked and Capelli fired on them, but it was a waste of bullets. The big shields were impervious to rifle fire.

Capelli was left with one option. He’d been hesitant to use it up until then, and for a very good reason. Unver claimed the system would work, but what if it didn’t? Projectiles whipped past Capelli like angry bees as he ducked down behind the concrete platform on which the old-fashioned pump sat. The remote was about the size of a pack of cigarettes, and Capelli could still hear Unver’s words. “Wait until the bastards are right on top
of the charge,” the older man had instructed. “Then push the button. That’s all there is to it.”

But Capelli couldn’t see where the Ravagers were. Not without sticking his head up high enough to get it blown off. So all he could do was push the button and hope for the best.

The block of C-4 went off with a loud boom that shook the ground, threw a column of debris up into the air, and shattered windows on the south side of the farmhouse. Capelli rose up from behind the platform at that point and was thrilled to see that one Ravager and at least three Hybrids had been killed. It was difficult to determine the number, with so many body parts lying around.

Unfortunately, the second Ravager was very much alive. Rowdy dashed out into the open as it continued to advance. Capelli shouted, “No!” as projectiles pinged all around him, but the dog wasn’t listening. The Ravager swiveled a few degrees in order to fire on the animal.

Capelli saw his opening. He allowed the carbine to fall so he could grab his revolver. The moment the handgun was up and in position he fired. Due to the angle, the large-caliber slug hit the stink in the left shoulder. It rocked the beast back on its heels but wasn’t enough to bring it down.

So Capelli triggered the secondary fire mode, causing the deeply embedded bullet to explode. That blew the Chimera’s arm off, so both the limb and the shield fell together. The second bullet hit the Ravager in the skull and knocked it off its feet. The Chimeran body was still falling as Capelli took a hit in the side, dropped down behind the platform, and knew the whole effort had been for nothing. He was bleeding, his carbine was out of reach, and he had just four rounds left in the pistol. Once the Hybrids flanked him, the battle would be over.

Capelli had accepted that reality, and was thinking about Susan, when he heard a deep-throated
blam, blam, blam
, as someone fired a burst from what sounded like a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). That was followed by sustained fire and the sound of Mike Unver’s voice. “Take that, you scabrous bastards! May all of you rot in hell.”

At that point Capelli stood, weapon in hand, to discover that all of the remaining Hybrids were down. Bodies were sprawled every which way just short of his position. Unver had a big grin on his face as he exited the farmhouse.

“I thought I sent you home,” Capelli said levelly.