The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) (37 page)

The man didn’t answer him.

“What are you doing to him? Why are you taking him?”

The man flicked his eyes as if caught in a lie. “We have our orders, just like you. I’m afraid you need to come with us as well. We want to talk to you and with what happened in Iraq.”

Gyle started to get up again, it seemed that his aches and pains were gone, and he somehow felt lighter, perhaps even stronger. “You’re not taking him anywhere and I’m not going with you.”

One of the other men, the same one who hit him before, tried to knock him back down again with the butt of his AK-47 assault rifle. But Gyle was too quick for him as he immediately sidestepped away from the blow and his kick sent the man flying back halfway across the cave. The other men quickly brought their rifles to bear on him as Gyle put his hands up in the air.

The man he was talking to was livid as he gave orders in Hebrew for the others to tend to the one who got kicked, then he aimed a pistol at Gyle. “Why did you do that?”

“He attacked me first,” Gyle said. “Why am I being held by you people? The US and Israel are supposed to be allies.”

Another man who was aiming a rifle at Gyle’s back gasped. “David, look at him! Look at his arms!”

Gyle turned his head sideways and looked at his own outstretched arms. He saw that his exposed forearms had began to slough off their skin as loose folds of them hung limply over his arms, exposing some sort of thick, lizard-like skin underneath that was hard to the touch. “Oh my god,” he said.

The man with the pistol began to shake his head. “What are you? What happened to you?”

Gyle placed his palms near his face. It looked like the outer skin was also peeling off as it exposed a new type of outer covering that was akin to pale leather and plastic. It was semi-hard to the touch, and Gyle had almost no feelings of sensitivity over his body anymore. “What have I done?” he said softly.

That was when he saw the first group of Israelis take Atrahasis, and started pushing him into the cave tunnel that led up to the surface. As he began to move again, Gyle could feel the skin on his legs peeling away, as he ran faster than he had ever run in his life. He made his way to where they were bringing the old man, but then he soon heard gunfire as it reverberated within the cave. That was when he felt the bullets hit his upper legs, and he fell face down on the limestone floor. As he tried to get up, another bullet hit him in the back and embedded itself in his collarbone. Then the waves of pain began again and once more he lost consciousness.

David Zim took off his Bedouin headwear and sighed with relief. Two of his men ran forward and checked on the American. For a brief moment, he thought the man would somehow get away and maybe even kill him and his men just to free that old man. It was obvious that Patrick Gyle had somehow been altered into something fast and lethal, and his men had to react as if their lives were in danger. The state of Israel could no longer depend on her allies, she was on her own now and her people would need to do whatever it took to ensure their own survival.
If the Americans were put in this same position, then they would think and do the same.

One of the men who was examining the American turned to look at him. “David, this man is still alive somehow. It looks like most of his wounds are superficial.”

“Then we take him with us as well,” David said. “How is Eitan doing?”

Another operative was checking the stunned man who Gyle had knocked back to the wall. “He has a few broken ribs and maybe a concussion I think, but he will make it.”

Another man on the far side of the cave, near the tunnel, was carrying a TAR-21 Tavor battle rifle that had just been fired and he slung it over his shoulder. “Boland isn’t going to be too happy about this, that’s his man we shot right there.”

“I don’t care what that American fool thinks,” David said to him before turning to look at another man. “Rafael, what time does our extraction arrive at the airstrip?”

Rafael had a portable radio on his back and was speaking into the receiver. “About two hours from now.”

“Let’s get going then,” David said. “Do we have special restraints on that plane?”

Rafael nodded. “Yes, that crazy rabbi told us during the briefing that we may be encountering beings that may have great strength, so we brought along some heavy-duty animal restraints that we got from the zoo in Tel-Aviv.”

David nodded. “Make sure they’re both heavily restrained and if you have any drugs that can keep them sedated then apply it on them too. I do not want either of them conscious on the flight back home. Same goes for Boland.”

Kansas

The convoy of vehicles had been on the road along US Route 400 for nearly an hour. They had left McConnell Air Force Base just after dark, so as not to arouse any suspicions with the rioters at the base perimeter. The plan was to turn north at the highway’s terminus near the Missouri border, then head east towards Warrensburg until they would reach their final destination at Whiteman Air Force Base. Leading the convoy were two M1127 Stryker wheeled armored fighting vehicles. The Strykers had Browning M2 heavy machineguns mounted on their top turrets, and they were followed closely by three Humvees equipped with M249 light machineguns. A single M977 HEMTT heavy transport truck and another Stryker brought up the rear.

Gary Larue frowned as he looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. He sat in the back seat of the first Humvee that was moving in formation behind the second Stryker. Unlike the ad hoc mix of Air Force and Army reservists he was travelling with, Gary was in fact a civilian. He was a senior administrator for the government’s National Nuclear Security Administration. The agency was tasked with maintaining and safeguarding the nuclear weapons stockpile for the entire country. He was heading the mission to transfer a large store of nuclear warheads safely to the base in Missouri. Sitting right beside him was Captain Chuck Teller, the commanding officer of the convoy. Gary had an instant dislike of him when they had met just a few hours before. Captain Teller was consistently ignoring his suggestions to bring the convoy out as soon as possible and instead had wanted to leave at night; that meant a delay of several hours. The top brass over at Whiteman AFB would be twiddling their thumbs and wondering how much longer it would take to transport a significant portion of the country’s nuclear warheads from a neighboring state, just 250 miles away.

After stealing a glance at the Air Force captain who seemed to be asleep, Gary looked out the window on his side of the Humvee. Electrical power had been out for days now all over the state. The highway was pretty much deserted except for an occasional car that was rapidly told to veer off by the turret gunners in the convoy. The streetlamps that had once guided commuters at night had been inoperative and this gave Gary an eerie feeling, since the only illumination along the road was now from their vehicle headlights. He could see an occasional bonfire out in the distance, but the rest of the journey would be traveled along a highway of night along a twilit horizon, as the full moon made a faint illumination above them.

The mission was pretty much straightforward. Due to the rioting at McConnell, it was deemed necessary that the forty W87 thermonuclear warheads that were secretly being stored in the base would have to be moved over to the more secure facilities at Whiteman. The HEMTT truck traveling two cars behind carried the devices in secure containers. Gary had supervised the handling of these converted MX Peacekeeper ICBM warheads from their underground storage bunkers and into the truck’s rear containers. The security briefing earlier today had stressed that the only possible threats could have come from unconfirmed ghost sightings along the highway or perhaps from some survivalist groups. But since the convoy was equipped with wheeled vehicles then their orders were not to stop for anything the moment they were on the road. Captain Teller even bragged to his men that if any of those preppers would be stupid enough to try to hijack his convoy, they would be dealt with severely using all the massive firepower he had available. Gary had wished that they had some air support like Apache gunships or Blackhawk helicopters, but unfortunately there were no aircraft of any kind to spare.

As the convoy began nearing the eastern terminus of the highway, Gary noticed that Captain Teller had at last managed to wake up. The man beside him straightened up in the backseat and looked at his own watch. Now it was Gary’s turn to relax somewhat as he now slumped back and tried to close his eyes to get some rest. They would be moving into the state of Missouri very shortly as the convoy began to turn north. The fleet of vehicles soon passed a thick copse of trees along the highway.

Almost instantly, floodlights opened up all around them. The lead Stryker stopped just yards away from a school bus that had parked itself across the northern turn of the highway, thereby blocking the entire road in front of them. The HEMTT truck was barely able to apply its breaks in time, as it almost rear ended the fourth Humvee in front of it. All of the gunners in the convoy were instantly alert, but they couldn’t aim their machinegun turrets. The men were temporarily blinded by the powerful lights that were once hidden behind the tree line along both sides of the road.

Gary instantly sat right back up as he looked out into the trees. He could see vehicle mounted searchlights on trucks had positioned themselves behind the trees. An unknown force was surrounding the convoy and he could see silhouettes of men with rifles in prepared positions. “What in the hell is going on?” he said as his eyes could only squint while being in the center of so much bright light.

“Attention,” a voice that was amplified by a megaphone said. “Attention, Air Force and Army convoy. We are the Soldiers of the Lord Jesus Christ and we have you surrounded. We urge you to step out of your vehicles peacefully or we will use deadly force against you.”

“What the fuck?” The Humvee driver, a young man of nineteen and a part-time reservist said. “Are they kidding me?”

The voice from the trees came on again. “Attention convoy, you have ten seconds to comply or we will start shooting.”

Captain Teller drew his M9 Beretta pistol from his hip holster and activated his walkie-talkie with his other hand. “Everybody, out of the vehicles, this is an order.”

The Humvee driver turned his head and looked at the captain with an incredulous look in his eyes. “Sir, are you sure about this?”

“Just do it, son,” Captain Teller said softly as the driver opened his door and walked out.

It was then that Gary realized the awful truth. “You set us up, you son of a bitch,” he said to Captain Teller.

The Stryker at the rear of the convoy suddenly began to back up, then started to maneuver to turn around. A wire-guided TOW missile came flying in from the tree line and hit the vehicle on its side which stopped it in its tracks. A deafening bang followed and smoke started to emanate from the Stryker. A loud scream began, then a hatch was opened as a soldier who was clearly burned all over his body climbed out of the stricken Stryker, before falling down to the ground beside the vehicle as flames began to erupt all around it.

“Dammit,” Captain Teller mumbled before engaging his walkie-talkie again. “I say again, this is Captain Chuck Teller, I am ordering all units to abandon your vehicles and surrender. Now!”

The two Strykers in the lead were commanded by the executive officer and their engines immediately started up, their machinegun turrets started firing into the tree line along their flanks, hitting and knocking out a couple of the floodlights. The first Stryker broadsided the empty school bus as it attempted to push it off the highway. Just as the abandoned bus began to give way, an M1 Abrams battle tank suddenly appeared less than a hundred yards in front of the Stryker, just as the latter had pushed the bus from the middle of the highway. Seconds later, the tank fired its 120mm cannon as the sabot round easily penetrated the thin front armor of the lead Stryker. The wheeled vehicle instantly exploded in a shower of sparks as roaring flames began to pour out of it. Little popping noises began as the ordnance inside of the stricken Stryker had started to detonate.

The second Stryker had seen what had happened, and the vehicle instantly stopped firing as the men inside began to open their hatches and clambered out, their hands in the air. Gary cursed as the squads in the Humvees also got out of their vehicles and put their weapons down before surrendering. As he looked around in despair, Gary noticed that Captain Teller had his gun pointed directly at him.

“This is treason, goddamn it,” Gary hissed. “You set us all up and a number of your own men are dead!”

“I had to make a choice,” Captain Teller said. “Either see my country be dismembered, and go down following orders from a commander in chief I have no trust and respect in, or give my soul to the one true Lord Jesus Christ. The choice was an easy one to make. Now get out of the vehicle, Mr. Larue. I won’t say it again.”

Gary opened the car door on his side and slid out. He noticed a large group of men coming out of the tree line and started to make their way towards the convoy. They were wearing combat fatigues with body armor and were well-armed. Gary turned around and looked at the captain once more. “Don’t think any of you will be getting away with this, you traitors. When I get back and tell NORTHCOM and the president about everything that happened here, then your puny little rebellion will be put down, just like the Confederates were taken down all those years ago.”

“You won’t be going anywhere,” Captain Teller said as he fired two shots into Gary’s chest. The NNSA administrator fell to the ground and his last thoughts were that his chest hurt so bad, he just couldn’t breathe.

Steve Van Dyke walked over to Captain Teller as the latter was standing over the body of Gary Larue. The ammunition explosions from the two Strykers that were destroyed had begun to die down. The captured men of the convoy were being rounded up before being led into the tree line, where another convoy composed of very different vehicles had parked many hours earlier. Steve looked at the body on the ground and shook his head.