Authors: Martyn J. Pass
The briefing room was joined to the map room by two wide double doors and was normally locked when not in use. What it’d been before the disaster was anyone’s guess but it’d been transformed for the purpose by folding chairs arranged in neat rows along one wall, a moving partition that had various maps and notes pinned to it with brass pins and a lectern that Teague especially loved to stand behind. It’d clearly been a piece of church furniture and how the Captain had come to possess it, Alan had no idea. It was clearly his favourite place and that evening’s sermon came hand-written on sheets of white A4 paper torn in half to make small, manageable notes with which to preach from.
He began with a few verses from the book of Teague, explaining to the four of them how important that night’s mission was going to be, how they were to be ready for every eventuality and to make it back safe. They were fair words delivered with a passion that set the Captain apart from most leaders - a real care for the people he had the task of sending out into a hostile environment and sometimes to their deaths. It wasn’t forced either but Alan felt as though it came from the heart, lacking any kind of mere pleasantry.
“Well chaps, that’s the important stuff said and we’re the better for it,” he remarked with a wry grin that turned one side of his neat moustache upwards like a comma, marking the pause in the conclusion. “As you know, your lives are more important to me than any patrol and speaking of which...”
He left the lectern and crossed the room, standing before the display of maps and diagrams which, despite having the appearance of being haphazard, betrayed a neat arrangement that kept the important information from being overlapped by the trivial. From where he sat, Alan could see rows of well written comments in red and black ink, ruler-drawn lines and compass-marked circles around key areas which brought him to the conclusion that Teague probably stirred his tea with some sort of spyrographic device.
“You can consider tonight to be the first step in what I’m sure you’ve surmised is our planned evacuation.”
He looked from the squad to the board and back again, pointing to the map with one of the corners of his notes that he’d brought with him from the lectern.
“This plan is, as usual, a need-to-know and each stage you’ll be involved in will reveal a little more of the overall scheme. I intend to play our cards pretty close to my chest. I’m not beyond believing that a spy from any of our enemies might decide to infiltrate our ranks and it would be no hardship for them to do so. Our survivor numbers have risen from day to day and hence why I urge you to keep the details of this and subsequent missions within these four walls. Are there any questions at this stage?”
Gary raised his hand and with a nod, Teague let him speak.
“Sir, do you have any reason to believe this might be the case?” he asked.
“Nothing substantial, Swanson. I’ve noted a few instances that have given me pause for thought. A few intruders into restricted areas. The same breaching our habitation rules. The persons involved have been dealt with in such a way as to eliminate them from suspicion but it’s given me more than enough reason to tighten up our operations here. Thank you for your question. Are there any others?”
No one spoke. Teague held the silence in his free hand for a minute or so before nodding once and returning to the board.
“Okay. Down to the nitty-gritty. In order to even consider moving so vast a stockpile of equipment and a large number of non-combatants, we’ll require a greater number of vehicles than we currently have. Therefore our utmost priority is to secure enough transport to achieve this move.”
It was a testament to the understanding that Teague had with his own people that no one even considered asking where they were moving to and each had absorbed the simple truth that it was a need-to-know and right then they didn’t need to know. Alan was the only other person in the room who
did
know and he expected the worst. To move such a distance would require heavy transport indeed.
“To this end,” continued Teague, indicating one of the perfectly marked red circles. “We have sourced the first two Rhinos at an abandoned military outpost 45 miles east of here. Your task will be to recover these vehicles and bring them back. Their size and pulling power will be perfect for transporting the bulk of our stocks to our new location. Are there any questions?” Reb raised her hand. “Yes?”
“What’s the local risk factor?”
“Patrols report a large force of survivors in that area who haven’t made an attempt to join us. You are to consider them hostile and avoid any engagement with them. They appear to have ignored the outpost thus far but do not rely upon this. You’re to get in, acquire the Rhinos and get out with the minimum amount of disturbance.”
“ROE?” asked Gary.
“Fire if fired upon. Anything else?”
“Sir, if I may, how much leeway do we have on site?” asked Steve and Alan thought he saw Gary shake his head but he couldn’t be sure.
“The transports are your primary objectives. Do what you can to achieve their safe removal. The site is considered abandoned and the locals are believed to be hostile. That’s leeway enough to act as your CO sees fit. Swanson, you understand your role as acting CO?”
Gary nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Good. That’s all I have to say.” He checked his watch and seemed happy with the results. “Be prepared to leave in 10 minutes. You’ll be driven to within a few clicks and left to tab the rest of the way. Keep it dark, chaps and make it back in one piece. Dismissed.”
Alan watched as Teague left the briefing room through the double doors and let them slam shut behind him. He suddenly felt nervous. This was his first actual mission and not just a routine patrol. The exodus that Teague was planning required a successful outcome that night and he realised that the whole thing was real now and not just training. He wondered why he’d been invited to join, why he’d picked him to go along on such an important mission. He had little to offer and he’d never even seen one of these ‘Rhinos’, let alone driven one.
Gary got up from his chair, turned and beckoned the others to do the same, forming a semicircle around him.
“Okay, you heard the score. It’s a night op and it’s quiet so I want this done by the numbers and as quickly as possible. Reb, you’re on point when we reach the DZ. Steve, you and Harding will take the first Rhino, Reb and I the second.” He handed the two drivers a laminated map in an illuminated case. “The last thing I want is a horde of tribals coming down on us or giving us chase too soon. If we engage before reaching the vehicles I’ve been given discretion to lay-up until the following night if I see fit and try again. If we engage during or after then we will make our way home ASAP, trusting that McNeil and his secondary unit will cross paths with us here,” he said, pointing at another map marker with his gloved finger. “They’ll then attempt to draw fire before we hit base and leave us with a clean run home. Clear so far?”
Every one nodded. “Good. Let’s do this and let’s make it back together in one piece.”
The squad broke up and made for the cars that would carry them to the DZ, adjusting buckles and slings as they went, perhaps from nervousness more than need. It was at this point, as Alan’s nerves were fast climbing the ladder to fever pitch, that Gary pulled him to one side out of earshot of the others and leaned in close to speak to him.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Nervous, but okay.”
“Good. Nerves are good,” he said, nodding emphatically with every syllable. “Treat it like a patrol, nothing more. We get the trucks, we get out. You’ll be riding shotgun with Steve so just keep him from crashing into a tree or something.”
“I guess I can manage that,” he replied. Gary looked at Moll.
“Is she coming?”
“I was going to leave her behind.”
“Don’t. She can fit in the cab. You ever seen a Rhino before?”
“Not the mechanical kind,” he said, breaking out in a tense grin.
“Then you’ll have to trust me - there’s room. I want that dog with us, especially when we tab it to the outpost. I’ve seen her work and I want those sharp senses out there with us. I’ll admit to you that I don’t like the hostile presence in the area. I don’t like it one bit.”
“You think it’ll kick off?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I do. If it does we’re going to have a hell of a night and I don’t plan on coming home without those trucks. Teague might care about the price but I don’t - this mission relies on us bringing back the goods and I intend to deliver. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I think it does. Now who’s the one caring what people think?” he joked and a little bit of tension was carried upwards with his laugh. But Gary didn’t even smile. His mind was elsewhere, in work mode perhaps, seeing as many angles as he could, planning, plotting, and trying to make the figures add up. It was the difference between a good leader and a great one and Alan wondered if that night would decide for Gary which one he was.
“I suppose,” he said after a moment or two. “It depends what I care for them to think. Respect, Alan, now that’s something you can’t live without.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean you can have a lot of things in this life. Wealth. Love. Fine clothes. Nice car. But if people don’t respect you, if people don’t see you as something more than just a man, then what’s the point? You might as well be nothing.
Less than nothing
. Respect turns into love so easily whereas love without respect is just doomed.”
Alan had nothing to say to this sage-like wisdom and like all pithy sayings they tended to silence the hearers, either through intense introspection or from sheer confusion. For him the idea of respect being the supreme virtue was a novel concept and one he’d suddenly been introduced to, like a distant cousin who he suddenly realised had grown into a man. He’d been told, for most of his life that love and money were the goals of existence and a good wife and a fat wallet were to be envied. But here was a man - indeed, a man by all accounts and worthy of the very respect he courted, overturning the tables of these money lenders in his Father’s house and preaching a new religion - that of the god ‘respect’ who was to be sought out at all costs. It stunned Alan enough that he simply followed behind Gary until they reached the cars that stood ticking over in the waning moonlight.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he said, getting into the first whose driver sat stoically behind the wheel in black overalls with a set of night vision goggles strapped to his forehead, ready to pull down once they left the flood lights of the shopping centre behind.
Alan climbed into the back of Steve’s car and Moll followed, forcing her bulk into the cramped back seat.
“Did the CO authorise the animal?” he asked, turning to look at him.
“He insisted,” replied Alan who shrugged away the stern glance with indifference and took a final look at the XC10, wishing somehow the adoption had been a dream and his trusted laser rifle would be back there in his arms. However, as the cars set off and the lights of the camp faded away behind them, the foreign frame of the carbine still sat there in his lap as if to remind him that life and change went hand in hand and to expect constancy was a little on the bold side.
Before the disaster, driving at night had been nothing remarkable even in the days when local councils insisted on turning off street lighting to save money and long stretches of motorway would seem to disappear into Stygian gloom at 70 miles per hour. But after it, when an entire year of darkness finally had its first dawn, the night held a new kind of terror - the fear that once again the morning might never come.
For a long time after that event, people believed that the cause had been some kind of eclipse and, though strangely impossible, there seemed to be no other kind of explanation for the darkness that enveloped the entire world. Within the first six months any kind of satellite or monitoring equipment, without their operators to keep their orbits, fell from the sky taking their secrets with them to the bottom of the sea. Now with so many skills lost and so much technology lying dormant, the answer seemed even further away and speculation ran rife even now.
For Alan those first months had been spent in a different kind of darkness. Without the sun, the solar collectors at Fort Longsteel were unable to recharge their cells and after 2 weeks the backups ran dry, effectively sealing him and the rest of the volunteers in the facility. It’d taken an entire year to climb back up to the surface only to have the daylight return and raise the entire place from the dead, turning all their efforts into naught. Even the weight of the deaths of those within who’d not received the experimental treatment bore down all the more heavier upon the volunteers when the power came back on. It’d seemed so futile, such a waste, which was an understatement when they finally surfaced to see an entire planet brought to its knees and countless numbers dead.
So as the two cars sped through the night, Alan was drawn back to those memories in the dark, those nightmares where he still heard the moans of the dying, still heard them begging for water or food or just to see again. He wondered if they would ever go away and he decided that maybe they shouldn’t.
4
“We’re approaching the DZ, folks,” said Gary, waking Alan out of his thoughts through the small earpiece he wore. “Weapons free and remember the ROE.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Reb.
“Aye, sir,” said Steve.
“Now remember - Harding here only has a spud-gun so let’s keep an eye on him, yeah?” laughed Gary.
“You’re only jealous,” he replied, cocking the XC10 and gleaning a bit of satisfaction from the solid click it made. Maybe it was an old memory surfacing again, but he felt a twinge of something pleasant, like a vapour of a dream that lingers upon waking and leaves the sleeper happier for it. Perhaps he might learn to love the thing after all.
“Here we are boys and girls,” said the driver, pulling in tight to the side of the road. For the entire trip the two guys behind the wheels had stuck with their night vision goggles and had driven through the empty black as if blind. Alan took a moment to scan the area with his own monocular. It was a narrow country lane, walled off on each side by tall conifers that were densely packed in neat, intentional rows like great wooden soldiers on parade. It had the effect of unsettling anyone who stared too intently at them for it felt like the natural mind expected woodland to be disordered and random - not arranged with the precision of a plantation manager. The accuracy of each row was eerily sharp and it gave the feeling of such unnatural nature that despite being able to look quite a way down each gap, it still felt to Alan like all manner of evil lurked hidden in there.
If he’d hoped for anything from the moon he was to be severely disappointed. The silver disc above him flitted behind the heavy cloud cover as if playing celestial hide and seek with the stars and provided almost no light that could be of any use. As the cars turned around and drove away with nothing more than the soft hum of their electric engines, the team were plunged into a deafening roar of silence broken only by the occasional bird song and the chirrup of some distant insect.
“Okay people,” whispered Gary. “Let’s look lively. Reb, you’re up. Harding, follow and keep your girl up front. Steve, you’ve got the rear.”
Alan shuffled into position feeling the oppressive weight of the gloom bearing down on him from all sides and the only comfort to be gained was the realisation that anyone trying to sneak up on them would have to be very quiet indeed. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of Reb’s trousers, the gentle breathing of Gary behind him and the soft pad-click of Moll’s paws on the tarmac.
“We should be 6 minutes’ walk from the fence. There’s nothing down this road but the outpost so if we miss it you’re all fired.”
“We’ve missed bigger,” muttered Reb.
“That’s true. Steve, tighten it up back there.”
“Yes sir.”
“Harding, you’ve got a strap loose on that vest. Get it buttoned up.”
Alan had his eyes fixed on Reb’s silhouette as she walked with short strides into the thick, soupy night and he could barely make out Moll’s position. The only indication that she was still there came in the form of her claws scratching the tarmac as she walked lazily along and sometimes gazed back at him with those piercing red eyes which caught whatever light there was and reflected it right back at him.
“That’s creepy,” muttered Gary. “I’ve never seen a dog with red eyes before. Have you always had her?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “She was born that way I think.”
“Weird. And so obedient too. My family always had dogs, from Terriers to Alsatians. Never had one behave so well though.”
“I think I just got lucky.”
“Lucky? She’s special, anyone can see that. Look after her.”
Alan lifted the monocular to his eye and looked ahead. Past Reb’s alert form were the beginnings of the outpost and its chain-linked fence rose up from a point further down the road like a grim hand reaching up to bar their way. The tops of the fence had been torn apart and mesh fingers now clawed at the night’s sky with nothing more than feeble gropes.
“Gary, the perimeter’s been compromised,” said Reb. “Looks like some kind of conflict took place out here.”
“Explain,” he replied, halting.
“I’ll go and take a look.”
Alan watched her break out into a jog, rifle raised, scanning to the left and the right up and down the ragged fence until she disappeared from view. It was strange watching her in the green glow of the NV and when she was no longer visible it appeared to Alan that she’d vanished into an ethereal fog which marked the extent of the monocular’s night vision capabilities.
“I’m here,” said Reb a moment or two later. “The gates have gone and there’s been a lot of small explosions.”
“Recently?” asked Gary.
“There’s still plenty of powder residue and some shell casings. They’re quite fresh. No more than a week old. It rained last Saturday, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, it did. Been dry since,” added Steve.
“Then I’d say no more than 7 days old.”
“Okay. Wait there, we’ll catch up.”
Gary set off at a brisk pace with Moll beside him, running on ahead and scanning left and right into the ominous plantations.
“This doesn’t bode well, sir,” muttered Steve falling in beside Alan as they walked. “Looks like we might have missed the party.”
“Or we’re about to walk into one,” replied Gary. “And the surprise is on us.”
Reb was crouched down beside the remains of a concrete gatehouse as they approached and she beckoned them to join her. She tapped the broken walls with her knuckles.
“RPGs and small arms fire,” she said. There was no other explanation for the wrecked structure with its gaping, blackened holes big enough to crawl through and the charred interior which looked like it’d been ravaged by an inferno. Even the stench of burned fabric still clung to the white washed concrete chunks that lay strewn around them in all directions. Here and there, like autumn leaves, were the spent casings of rifles and the occasional empty magazine, dropped and trampled in the mad fury of a close quarter battle.
“No bodies,” observed Gary.
“Why would there be?” asked Reb which at first felt to Alan like a strange question to ask. That was until he realised what she was implying; that they’d been taken away and leaving them behind would have been strange indeed.
“Great,” said Steve. “Cannibals.”
“Okay. Reb and I are going in to look around. Steve, secure this gate and make sure that anything that isn’t us is fast-tracked to hell.”
“Got it, sir,” he replied.
“Harding, come with us.”
Steve moved away quietly, heading towards the bushes on the far side of the road so that he could watch the entrance to the outpost. Reb took point and led Gary, Harding and Moll past the ravaged fencing and into the compound.
It was now beyond eerie as the sharp cornered building loomed somewhere up ahead, taking shape in the many shades of night that would soon be giving way to dawn. To Alan it took on the appearance of a giant head, tapering from the ground to a point some 40 metres in the air with a flat top, angular sides like enormous ears and an opening in the centre for a mouth. Adorned with many unreadable signs, the face grimaced and frowned as it gradually became more defined and its shoulders - two smaller, flatter buildings of white prefab, hunched against the cool breeze blowing steadily from the west.
“Anything?” asked Gary. Reb was much nearer to the structures, having jogged on ahead.
“Casings. Some traces of blood. Whoever was here was in retreat at this point.”
“Any signs of laser fire?”
“Negative.”
Gary led the way as Moll ran left and right in long sweeps, sniffing the ground, her tail wagging. Alan already hated the place and followed behind with his monocular, looking deeply into the corners of the fencing for anything that wasn’t a wreck or a piece of junk.
“Whatever happened here, it looked like we missed it,” said Gary.
“RPGs and projectiles. It wasn’t a bunch of amateurs, was it?” asked Alan.
“You got that right. I do know that a rumour’s been going round for a few weeks now of a large raiding party coming up from the south. It’s almost entirely wasteland down there now and anything that comes out of there can’t be good.”
“Could this be them?”
“It would look like it, wouldn’t it?”
Suddenly the night lit up in a brilliant flash of red and the reports of several projectile weapons were heard off in the distance towards the main building.
“I have contact,” said Reb over the comms with icy coolness. Gary broke into a low run, his rifle raised to a firing position and Alan followed, thumbing off the safety of the XC10. They reached the burned out husk of a car and dropped into firing positions behind it as Reb cut through the darkness with deliberate aim.
“How many?” asked Gary.
“Six. Two in the left building, three on the right, one dead outside the main structure.”
Gary fired and his laser hissed as it sliced across the open space between them and the buildings in front of them. The normal sounds of battle, the cries and shouts, the rapid, random firing, were strangely absent and as Alan had never fought in the darkness before he found this new and quiet struggle terrifying. Their firing patterns were deliberate and calculated and in moments they felt the impacts of burst fire hitting their cover.
“Going left,” said Gary, crouching low again and sprinting for a line of concrete barriers as Reb intensified her attack to draw their fire. Moll had vanished for the time being but Alan gave little thought to her now that his senses were strained to breaking point trying to find a target.
“In position,” said Gary.
“Moving right,” said Reb.
“Go for it. Covering now.”
Alan dropped to the floor and laid down on the cold concrete, peering through his monocular at the building on the left which happened to be the closest one. He saw them now - two shapes, one in the doorway and one at the window, their forms only visible as they moved back and forth to their firing points. He couldn’t make out their features or anything to identify them with, but they appeared to be in the same sort of outfit and their faces were covered in a kind of mask. They’d shifted their aim to Gary’s position now and the long barrels of their laser rifles were almost entirely out of the openings.
He looked to the main building and saw a crumpled body in a heap in a small doorway near the mouth. At the right hand building he could only just make out the three pin-points of lasers being fired like a distant firework show that crackled and spat to somewhere far off, Reb he suspected.
They were outnumbered and the enemy were dug in. The buildings, though crudely built, were solid and several laser impacts did little more than blacken the paintwork. Alan expected to hear Gary to give the order to fall back and regroup but instead the radio crackled something else, something far more terrifying.
“Contacts on the road and coming your way,” said Steve in a quick whisper like a man gasping for breath as he drowned in his own fear.
“Numbers?” asked Gary.
“Erm... Ten. On foot. Rifles and RPGs.”
Gary cursed. “Reb, we need to be on this,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Affirmative,” came the cool response.
Alan, his decision made, rose to his feet and crouched behind the wreck, peering out from one side as he stared into the lessening darkness, his hand tightening around the grip of the carbine like he was scared of dropping it. Then, with a sudden thrust of willpower, he sprinted across the open as low as he could manage, almost hugging the ground as he made for the right hand building some 100 metres away.
“Alan, what are you doing?” cried Gary over the radio but it did little to slow his charge especially when the force of it carried him to the nearest window in a matter of seconds. He raised the carbine and with painful heaves of his chest to recover his breath, took aim and fired a devastating burst into the opening.
A body fell to the floor and Alan fired again, moving towards the door without hesitating. Seeing his next kill crouched behind the wall, he put three shots into his chest, turned and bore down on the stunned figure at the other window who tried desperately to bring his own rifle to bear, only to get it stuck on the window sill. This split second hesitation meant death for him and Alan fired once more, putting two solid shots into his body and, as he hit the ground, put another in his skull.
“Building clear,” he said over the radio, sucking in deep breaths. “Moving to the first.”
Reb met him and together they rushed across the front of the main building, past the corpse and reached the left hand hut, hugging the wall as they went. They hadn’t been spotted and the rifles were still trained on Gary who returned their fire with stutters of shots from his own weapon, aware that his team were danger-close.
“Keep them busy,” said Reb. “We’ll take them when you’re ready.”
“Received,” came the reply. Gary continued. “Steve, what have you got for me?”
The reply came in strangled gasps. He was running, that much was clear and his fitness was suffering, so much so that his words came out with long pauses between them.