Storm Tide Rising: Blackout Volume 2 (29 page)

When they reached the fence line, Mike had Alyssa cut down a nearby empty tent. She quickly cut the thick canvas fabric into four sections. Terrance and his aunt wrapped both their hands in one patch each. They took hold of the razor wire carefully with their padded hands and held it tight. Mike used his wire snips to cut the razor sharp wire.

He made it through the first strand without cutting himself or anyone else. More gunshots rang out in the distance, but these were much closer and more crisp. Whoever was doing the shooting, was moving closer. Mike nodded for Terrance and his aunt to take the next run of wire in their canvas covered hands. They pulled the wire carefully straight and Mike started trying to cut through it.

Mike tried twice, but the wire was just too thick where he was trying to cut it. The snips slipped from his fingers and fell to the thick leaf litter. Mike bit back a curse. "You gotta get a different grip," he whispered. "Careful, though."

A few of the people in nearby tents were starting to look their way and whisper to each other. Terrance nodded to Mike and let go of the razor wire. The tension in the unrolled spool snapped back and one of the shining blades sliced across the back of Mike's left forearm.

"Oh God," Terrance said, "Is it bad? I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Mike took off his shirt and wrapped it around his forearm as tightly as he could. He started to shake his head and lie, but suddenly there was a booming explosion from the direction of the gates. A fire ball rose into the night sky, and there were screams. Gun shots rang out again, but these weren't dim echoes. They were loud, and they didn't stop.

Mike looked up at Terrance, and tried to keep a steady voice. "It's okay, Terrace," Mike said calmly. "I need you to focus and take the wire again, but give me a narrow spot to cut this time." 

Another round of shots from the gates, and Terrance's head popped up.

"Terrance," Mike said again, a little louder. The young man looked back at him. "I need you to focus, okay? I've got this wire and two more to cut through. Whatever is going on at the gates, it isn't happening here. Not yet. And if we are going to get out of here, you've got to focus."

Terrance nodded again. "Yes sir, Mister Mike," the young man said, his voice shaky. "I'm sorry."

Terrance gripped the wire again with his aunt on the other side. They were careful and held it so that Mike had a clear shot at the thin space between the blades. Mike felt the leaves and found his snips. His left forearm throbbed, and he could feel the shirt wrapped around it growing warm as the blood soaked through. He clipped the wire, and Terrance took three steps to the side before releasing the loose end. He eyed the next strand like a coiled viper, but he took it anyway.

Mike tried not to think about the sounds coming from the gates. The gunfire was growing more sporadic, but the screams had grown louder, and they were getting closer. One of the families from a nearby tent that had been poking their heads out of the doorway came rushing over. Terrance started toward them, but Mike grabbed his ankle and shook his head.

"Are y'all cutting through the fence?"  one of them asked, and Mike was surprised to hear a girl's voice.

He looked at the strangers again and saw six kids, the oldest of them maybe seventeen. They were all trembling.

"Yes," Alyssa answered. "Where are your parents?"

The girl shook her head. "Don't know. I was out at a party when it happened. I walked home from my friend's house, and my parents were gone. They left a note saying they were looking for me." 

The girl’s voice started to shake, and Alyssa moved to put an arm around her. The girl shied away, though, and wouldn't let Alyssa touch her. "We just want to get out of here."

Mike clipped through the last two spools of wire as quickly as he could. His left arm was throbbing with a dull consistency that was growing more difficult to ignore, and his left fingertips were starting to tingle. When he clipped through the last run of wire, Mike stood and turned. The world kept spinning past when it should have stopped, and Mike's vision suddenly narrowed to a dim point far in front of him.

With stark clarity, he saw the silhouette of a man crest the hill at a full run. Just then there were three flashes from the gates and Mike wondered absently why lightning was flashing so low and why the thunder wasn't louder. He felt himself begin to fall backwards, but he never quite reached the ground. Something cushioned what should have been a hard impact.

As the blackness closed over him, Mike heard someone mumble, "I think he's passing out."

It sounded like a good idea, and so he did.

At least his arm didn't hurt anymore.

Ch.46

Aftermath

Joe stepped out the front door and onto the porch. Beth stood at the railing, her back to him. She was looking up at the clear night sky as she spoke. "I never knew how many we were missing. Even way out here, where I thought we could see them all, there were so many more that were hidden. Do you ever look up at it and just wonder?"

Joe never took his eyes from his wife. "Yes," he answered after the silence had stretched for a moment. "You never get used to it. Even when you know it's coming."

Beth chuckled. "I should have expected to get an answer like that, I guess. You've probably seen more stars than this in some of the places you went...before..."

Joe did glance up then, but only for a moment. "Not more, but there were times I saw different stars. That's what's most unsettling. Looking up and not recognizing a single star in the sky. South of the Equator, the sky and the stars in it are strangers."

When his eyes dropped, Beth was looking at him, big tears standing out on her cheeks. Joe felt his throat tighten, and he didn't try to speak. In two steps he had Beth in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. She sobbed heavily but silently against him. They stayed like that long after Beth's crying stopped, neither knowing exactly how to breach the silence between them.

"Is he okay?"  Beth whispered after a while.

"Yes," Joe said softly. "He's asleep for now. He didn't eat anything at supper, but he drank a little water before bed. That's a good sign."

"You still think he'll be better by morning?"  Beth asked, looking up at Joe, and inspecting his face in the dim starlight.

Joe couldn't help but smile. "Probably," he answered truthfully. "I've seen this before in the younger guys we trained. First mission someone had to actually pull the trigger. Most of the time, they shook it off, and finished the mission. Sometimes they didn't."

Beth waited, but Joe didn't go on.

"What happened those times?"  She asked.

Joe was silent for a long time. Finally, he gave a half shake of his head and sighed deeply. "I'll have a talk with him tomorrow when the sun's up."

Beth pulled back and looked at him for a moment, but if she had any other questions, she didn't ask them. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and held him closer. Despite years spent off the teams, there were still some things Joe just couldn't bring himself to discuss.

"We'd better go inside," Beth said sleepily. "You're gonna have an early morning and it's already late."

"Are you really tired?"  Joe asked softly, and Beth shook her head. "Well, let's stay a while, then. There haven't been many times we've been able to share a night sky like this."

"Well let's at least get under some covers, then," Beth said, shivering.

The air wasn't quite cold, but it was certainly chilly. Joe was warm natured and hadn't noticed, but Beth was prone to chills. He had brought a quilt out and laid it on the bench, and now they retreated to it. Beth wrapped the cover around her shoulders and Joe's as they sat. She nestled against him and sighed again, happier this time.

"Remember that one night in King's Canyon?"  Beth asked after a brief silence.

Joe snorted. "Of course. How could I forget? That was about the coldest I've ever been."

Beth smiled. "Sure was a pretty sky, though," she said. "Stars as far as we could see in all directions. And clear as a bell too."

"And cold," Joe said.

Beth laughed and snuggled closer to him. She started to tell the story of their ill-fated camping trip years before. And although Joe had heard the story many times before, not to mention having lived it as well, he listened again with a smile on his face.

Ch.47

A Quick Visit

Marcus handed over his ID card and signed a clip board that the Chief held out for him. The man's face was lined, and his hair was steel gray shot through with some snow white, but his arms and shoulders looked strong. He held himself with the same quiet confidence and poise that Marcus had seen in many of the recalled Special Operators around the base.

"Thank you, sir," the man said. "Commander's orders, I have to call this in, and you can't visit for more than five minutes. Door stays open the whole time."

Marcus nodded, and the Chief turned to lead him down the hall. At the second door he unlocked both locks and opened the door out into the hall. He fixed Marcus with one more look. "Five minutes, Lieutenant Commander, and I'll be right outside the whole time."

Marcus nodded and stepped into the room as the Chief pushed a button on his communication unit and spoke softly into the small microphone clipped to his collar. A bed sat against the far wall, a thin foam pad on a rough metal shelf. A wall mounted sink and toilet were in one corner, and two folded jumpsuits sat atop each other in the other. The single occupant of the room sat on the edge of the bed, his long legs drawn up so his knees were bent and his feet were nearly underneath the bed. The detainee's face rested in his hands and he stared dejectedly at the floor.

Marcus cleared his throat, and the young software tech looked up hesitantly. He half shook his head and put his eyes back on the floor. "Look, I keep trying to tell those two guards that I didn't do anything, but all they do is shove an MRE and two bottles of water through the door three times a day. Neither of them ever say a word."

"Mr. Hamilton," Marcus began, "I don't believe you killed anyone, and I certainly don't believe you're involved in some super secret plot. From your file, you've worked here six years, and you've been an adequate if not stellar employee."

Hamilton snorted softly, but he didn't say anything.

"Given the circumstance," Marcus continued, "I'd say that's a point in your favor. I'd have been a lot more suspicious if you'd proven to be an exemplary employee."

Hamilton's head fell back, a sardonic half smile on his face. "No chance of that with me, Lt. Commander," he said. "But I didn't kill Jacobs. He was a nice guy even if he was a slacker. I liked him."

Marcus nodded. "I believe you, Hamilton," he said softly, glancing over his shoulder. He stepped closer to the young detainee and lowered his voice even more. "I think we're getting close to the person who did kill your bunkmate. I don't think you'll have to stay in this cell much longer."

Suddenly, Hamilton's head snapped down, but for a brief second, Marcus saw an unreadable expression cross his face. Marcus blinked to clear his thoughts, and when he looked back, Hamilton smiled and extended his right hand. Marcus bent to shake it.

Hamilton reached out with his right hand, and then time seemed to slow. The enlisted man's expression shifted from a warm grin to a cold glare. His left arm shot out and seized Marcus's wrist, pulling him forward and off balance. As Marcus fell, Hamilton rose with the smooth, swift grace of a striking viper. His long right arm cocked back and darted forward, his hand held rigid. Marcus felt the impact in his throat so hard that it felt like his windpipe collapsed. He coughed and tried to gasp for a breath, but nothing would come in.

Hamilton released Marcus' wrist and struck him in the solar plexus with the clenched knuckles of his left hand hard enough to make the bone pop. The air rushed out of Marcus in a ragged, painful whoosh. He tried to breathe in past the blinding pain in his larynx but again, nothing would come. Marcus started to sink to his knees as his vision blurred, but Hamilton's strong right hand clenched forcefully around his windpipe and lifted Marcus, even as he lost control of his legs.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant Commander," Hamilton whispered in Marcus' ear, "I'll pinch the carotid arteries on both sides of your neck and you'll black out in a few seconds. In less than a minute, you'll be brain dead."

Marcus coughed loudly, the first noise he'd actually been able to make, and it felt like something tore in his throat. Hamilton cursed, though, and spun him around so he faced the door. The Chief who'd been standing guard in the hall was in the doorway, his sidearm drawn. Hamilton ignored the other man for the moment.

"I didn't lie to you, Lt. Commander," Hamilton whispered into Marcus' ear, "I didn't kill Jacobs, so it must have been one of our other operatives. I never thought I was the only one sent in, and now I know."

"Let him go, Hamilton," the Chief said calmly.

"Set your gun on the ground," Hamilton answered, "or I crush his throat and you can watch him die."

"Go ahead," the Chief replied with a small shrug. "I'll put two in your chest and one in your head before he hits the ground. He'll be dead, but so will you."

Hamilton snorted. "That's what I—"

There was a loud pop and Marcus' ears were ringing. Hamilton wasn't gripping his throat and supporting him anymore, so Marcus fell to his knees. He briefly wondered why his face was wet as he fell over on his side. Marcus tried to take another breath but managed to pull only the smallest fraction of fresh air into his lungs. It felt like liquid fire tearing through his throat as he did it. The pain made him dizzy, and his vision narrowed to a point.

"Better tell the medic to hurry," Marcus heard the Chief say in a serious tone. "I think he's starting to fade."

For just a moment, Marcus wondered who he was talking about.