A New World 10 - Storm (13 page)

We soon slow down and pull off the road. We’ve reached the point where we’ll leave the trucks and proceed through the overgrown fields. The stalks in the outlying fields have grown higher than our heads. As long as we don’t push through them like a stampeding herd of water buffalo, we should be able to approach undetected. We wait for a couple of minutes until Horace calls in that she and her group are in position to proceed on foot. It’s here that we’ll leave our asses hanging in the breeze. However, with the nature of the landscape, we should be able to disengage and lose any pursuit quite easily. The Spooky loitering above will help with that.

That doesn’t help my nerves much, though. However, at least we’re doing something and not just waiting around. Although I feel the tension strumming through every nerve, I also feel a cold calm begin to settle within. It’s time to focus every sense on the environment around; focus on each and every step.

We start slowly toward the facility, stepping between the tall stalks as best we can. We won’t be able to disguise the trail left by twenty-six people, but we can hide the fact that we’re coming. In the tall grass, our field of vision is limited to a scant few feet, and I have to make periodic forays to the road to check our progress. I have the CB radio with me with the volume turned down, so that any sound coming from it won’t be heard for very far. With my hearing, I can keep it almost silent. There’s nothing but the swish of clothing brushing through the stalks. Luckily, the chill day continues, or we would all be a sweltering mess.

Not far from the building, I come to a thick screen of bushes growing next to an irrigation canal. The flow of water is sluggish, but the nature of the canal makes it deep. Glancing to my right, I notice a footbridge has been placed across. It’s a welcome sight, as I wasn’t looking forward to slogging around in wet boots for the rest of the day. I’ve done that enough times in the past and it’s never been near the top of my fun list.

We quickly cross, and with the view of the road from the canal, I’m able to place our location on the map. We’re a little ways into the field from the highway, the building about a quarter mile away on the opposite side of the road. Horace reports that they’re closing in and I have them halt in place so we can catch up. Having to adjust our path to the crossing has held us up a little.

“Where are you guys? What’s going on?” a barely audible, deep voice comes from the CB.

Holding the mobile radio, I reply in a halting, scratchy voice. “We’re just…on them now. Hang on.”

“Well, hurry the fuck up. We’re making that foray into town soon,” the voice responds.

We have a little time, but not much. Whoever is on the other end of the radio seems a touch impatient; and from the sound of it, they may be departing the facility soon, with or without the missing party. It’s not like we can move any faster. I won’t sacrifice stealth for speed.

The scenery doesn’t change and it seems like we are stuck on a treadmill, with tall stalks passing on either side, only to be replaced by more. Only the sun rising higher in the sky indicates the passage of anything. Every once in a while, I catch a hint of sound from the Spooky circling to the south. It’s so faint, even to my hearing, that I think I’m only imagining it because I expect it to be there. It’s like the faint brush of a stalk against my clothes, there and then gone in an instant.

It seems like a long time before we turn and slowly creep toward the highway and building. Time seems to pass more slowly when vision is closed down to just a few feet. It’s a race between the man on the radio’s impatience and our stealth. So far, the radio checks with Craig have revealed that no one is moving within the facility and, as far as he can tell, no one is keeping watch.

At the edge of the field, I look toward the building. The worn sign near the front indicates that our initial assessment was correct.

"Rimrock Jr. Sr. High School"

"Preparing to learn…Striving to achieve…Daring to succeed"

The building is a mostly brick, multi-story building with very few windows. The only ones visible are tinted, where I assume the admin offices are located, and at the sets of double doors that provide the main entrance. None of them are even barricaded, which suggests that the marauders aren’t worried about night runners. My heart is thumping as I look over the facility first-hand. I’m looking to the north, just across the highway from the main entrance. The numerous vehicles we identified on our overflight are parked in a lot to my right, near where Horace and her group should be hiding in the fields.

“Move up,” I radio Horace, and direct the ones with me out of the grass and into a ditch lining the roadway.

The ditch is deep enough that it can keep us hidden, even if someone were to appear on the roof. Horace reports that she’s in position. It’s rather surprising that we’ve moved into position without being spotted. We have fifty-two soldiers along two sides of their building and, as far as I know, they don’t have a clue we’re here. It just boggles the mind sometimes how over-confidence can lead to sloppiness. It’s not that I’m perfect, or even remotely close to it, but shit, do something. Well, in this case, I’m glad they didn’t, but am appalled at the lack of preparedness.

“I’m about to make contact on the radio. Horace, if they emerge in a rush, you are cleared to fire. Craig, make your way into orbit around the building and be ready to open fire on my command. Do you have us located?” I radio.

“Copy that. Robert says he has both teams, to the south and east, located and marked,” Craig replies.

“Copy, we’re ready,” Horace responds.

I don’t conveniently have a megaphone to get the attention of those inside, so I use the handheld CB radio.

“Inside the school building. You are surrounded. Come out peacefully, unarmed and in groups of five, and lay face down on the pavement.”

It takes a few seconds before I hear a reply. “Who the fuck is this? Get off my radio!”

I can’t really think of an answer and glance down the ditch at the line of soldiers dressed in their multicam fatigues. Seeing them, I answer, “US Army.”

“Yeah, right. And why should we do that?”

“Well, have you heard from your scouts in a while, or the ones you sent out?” I ask.

“Nice try, fucker. I just spoke with them minutes ago,” the voice responds.

“That wasn’t them answering, dumbass.”

The front entrance doors open and a multitude of people pour out, some firing blindly as they exit and make for the sparse cover out front. The return fire from the soldiers on either side of me is instantaneous and deafening. Red tracers streak into the emerging mass. The ones in front of the group drop like a scythe went through them, some thrown back into the ones behind while others fall straight to the ground. Several of the tinted windows of the office become starred, and then shatter under the torrent of rounds.

It’s only seconds before the emerging group turns and attempts to retreat inside, running over those already down. They push against those still trying to get out as they try to avoid the onslaught of bullets slamming into flesh and bone. The air is filled with small mists of pink as blood splashes outward from the forceful impacts. Bodies continue to fall on the concrete walkway serving the entrance, but many manage to make it back inside. Just as quickly as it started, it’s over, leaving the dead and wounded strewn across the entranceway.

Some crawl slowly across the ground, trying to make it to the doors. With the mob disappearing inside, the soldiers halt their fire. Only the moans and screams of the injured and the smell of gunpowder are left in the aftermath. The ditch is littered with the gleam of spent cartridges and there is a quick series of metallic clicks as the soldiers insert fresh mags.

The CB comes to life. “Okay, Army, you have my attention. What is it you want?”

“I’d settle for a core modification of your personality, but I seriously doubt that’s going to happen,” I answer.

“Is this about them fuckers up the road?” the deep voice asks.

“Let’s just say that it’s about the choices you’ve been making. If you’ll look out a window and peek up, you’ll see that I mean business,” I respond.

“Okay, I’m coming out. We can talk in person,” the man says.

“Craig, keep an eye out. Make sure they don’t try to sneak anyone out the back and try to flank us. If they do, you are cleared to fire,” I radio. To the man, I call, “Come on out, but know that if you try anything, it will be dealt with immediately and severely.”

Before long, a large man appears in the doorway of the shattered entrance. I can’t read his expression as he looks over the bodies lying on the ground. Stepping over and around them, carrying a bat with what appears to be a white T-shirt tied to it, he makes his way to a position near the highway on the opposite side.

“Craig, do you see anyone on the roof?” I radio.

“We don’t see anyone from here…standby, Robert reports five armed individuals are making their way out and setting up on the ledges. Do you want us to take them?”

“Not at this time, but target them and standby,” I reply.

“Copy that. They’re tagged.”

Making sure the soldiers stay out of the line of sight, I rise from the ditch and walk toward the man, keeping him between me and the guns on the roof. Drawing close, I’m not sure who smells worse, him or me. The man has long, wavy brown hair with a thick beard to match. He is wearing a faded T-shirt and a jean jacket with the sleeves removed. His arms are covered in overlapping tattoos. Looking at his expression, I can tell almost immediately that this conversation is going to be pointless.

“All right. I see your hardware, but what gives you the authority to kick us out or slaughter us indiscriminately?” he asks.

“It’s not about authority; it’s about your place in the world. And by that, I mean there isn’t one for the likes of what you and your group has been doing,” I respond. “As if the world isn’t fucked up enough, you have to add to it by threatening and harming others.”

“You mean, just like you’re doing now?”

“There’s a difference. We didn’t start it, just finishing it,” I say, looking up and locking eyes with him.

His expression darkens. I can tell that he intimidates others by his stature and isn’t used to anyone standing up to him.

“I could take you out where you stand. Just one gesture from me and you’ll cease to exist,” he states, returning my stare. “You come with an ultimatum; let me make one of my own. You and your people have until the count of three to start leaving. One…”

“Two,” I quickly return, stepping forward and daring him to continue.

That takes him aback. His eyes widen for just a second before narrowing again.

“I can see that you’re not all that familiar with physics. So, allow me to educate you in that regard. You currently have five people on the roof behind you with what I assume are scoped weapons. The key word being
behind
you. Notice where I’m standing,” I say.

“What in the fuck has that got to do with anything?” he asks.

I can’t believe my clues haven’t spawned the light in his head. It’s like a bull charging forward that doesn’t see the brick wall to its front.

“Okay, here comes the first lesson. If you were to make your gesture and they were to shoot, where do you think the bullets would strike first?”

Now, the light dawns and his expression alters. I see that the first lesson has sunk in. “I don’t really appreciate being threatened either. So, free of charge, here’s your second lesson.”

Pressing the mic button, I radio, “Craig, take out the ones on the roof.”

The drone of the Spooky, which hovered just in the background before, increases as it draws closer. Streams of red light pour down, accompanied by the buzzing sound of a Gatling gun spooling. Several of the tracers race back into the air after intersecting with the roof. Chucks of concrete spray outward from the heavy caliber shells tearing into the top of the structure. The burst lasts only a second or two.

“All targets eliminated,” Craig radios.

“A gunship wins against men on a roof every time. While that may not exactly be a physics lesson, it’s an important one for you to remember nonetheless,” I state.

“You’d attack us under the truce of a white flag?” the man comments, incredulous.

“You broke that when you threatened me with imminent death. I would caution against doing that again. So, back to your leaving…” I begin.

“Fuck you, Army!” he states, turning to leave.

“Have it your way,” I call to his retreating back. “I’m giving you the option to leave peacefully. The only way you’ll be allowed to stay in this area is if it becomes your graveyard.”

Without turning, he lifts his hand in the air and flips me off. I have to hand it to him, that’s a ballsy move. A worthless gesture, but I chuckle at the set of balls necessary to do it.

Not wanting to present a target by standing in the open, I turn and trot back to the ditch.

“Horace, pull back and return to base,” I radio, motioning for the soldiers with me to do the same.

The tall grass envelopes us as I make a call to the Spooky overhead. “Craig, give us three minutes to clear the area and then you’re cleared to fire. Level the place.”

We hastily make our way through the field, unable to see the school we left behind. The need for stealth is gone and I want to get back to the base. I tried, albeit not especially hard, to give them a chance. I still can’t fathom why those few surviving can’t band together. To me, it’s shortsighted to take from others instead of banding together to help each other. Shit, even if they didn’t want to do that, there are plenty of places to set up if you wanted to go it alone. We create a little distance between us and the facility when the first 105mm explosion thunders across the field.