“O-Okay.” The weight on Alex’s neck made it hard to breathe, let alone speak.
“Who are you?”
Her mind whirled. “Who are you?”
“My question first.”
“We’re from the Directorate,” she gasped, struggling not to pass out from lack of oxygen. “We’re… We’re here to discuss a treaty with the NEA.”
A brief silence.
Is he with the NEA? Is he just some crazy loner with a knife?
Finally, he said, “Get up. Keep quiet.”
The blade and knee left her neck. As she inhaled to fill her lungs, white stars began circling an empty blackness in her vision. She shook her head to clear them away.
The man prodded her with a kick of his boot. “Get going.”
“Give me a second.”
She stood and then felt the muzzle of a rifle against her back. “Start moving.”
“I can’t see anything.”
The rifle jammed her spine. She almost tripped but managed to maintain her footing. She walked forward through the darkness, closing her eyes and visualizing what she had seen earlier. The ticket windows are coming up on the left.
She concentrated on the handgun, which had come to rest against the far wall. The weapon wobbled and then rotated, pointing the light at the ticket windows. The glow revealed a distorted reflection in one of the glass panes. She steadied herself and then clamped her hand at her side.
The light swung full into their faces. Her assailant recoiled. His rifle broke apart with a metallic crunch, and the shattered pieces clattered to the floor. Alex ran and shouted for help. She grabbed the handgun and spun to aim at her assailant. He was young, perhaps in his early twenties. His clothes were ragged, multiple layers wrapped around each other for insulation. The rifle he had dropped was a museum piece: a bolt-action from one of the World Wars. His cheeks were unshaved, his hair unnaturally white. To her surprise, he fell to his knees in front of her.
She kept her gun on the young man. Hurried footsteps approached from the upper terminal. Park arrived first at the stairway. He rushed down with his rifle raised and spotted her at once. “Alex! Are you all right? Who is that?”
“I-I don’t know. I’m okay, though.”
“The hell is going on?!” Sergeant Murray yelled, making his way down the stairs.
Then she heard Shepherd’s cool voice. “What happened?”
“I… I was looking around down here.” She had violated security by leaving the group, and she knew it. And Shepherd knew it as well.
She lowered her gun but kept the light on. There were now nine red dots on the man’s head. He looked up with his wide, pale blue eyes. “So it’s true! We knew you would come, but… but…”
“Who are you?” Shepherd said in the same flat, toneless voice. That voice is the one that killed those two men at the bridge.
“We had no idea that it would be this soon. If we’d been ready, there would have been thousands waiting for you. Thousands. I’m sorry. Once they find out, they’ll work faster. We just didn’t know. We— I can make it up to you. I’ll be the first.”
“Who the hell are you?” Murray said. “What’s this crazy talk?” The team’s nerves were in Murray’s voice. They were uncertain. Maybe the man was with the NEA, perhaps part of another ambush. Immediately, eight of the dots shifted and scanned around the darkness as the group spread out.
The man reached to his belt and put his hand on the hilt of a knife encased in an elegant black sheathe decorated by symbols resembling hieroglyphics.
“Don’t move!” Murray’s beam centered on the man’s forehead.
“Please. Don’t punish them. I’m enough, aren’t I? We haven’t failed you.” Tears flowed from the man’s eyes. He unsheathed the knife, the same knife that had been pressed against her neck, and raised it to the front of his chest. Then though his tears, he smiled, pleasantly, almost lovingly. “I’m sorry.”
Before Alex could react, he plunged the knife into his neck. The serrated edge cut through muscles, tendons, and blood vessels with a sick tearing sound. He pulled the knife out and reached up to his throat. Blood erupted from the wound as he fell forward onto the concourse floor where he gurgled and then fell silent.
“Good God,” Murray said.
Alex turned away and held a hand to her mouth. Why had that young man killed himself? He couldn’t have been much older than she was. At the end, he had been so peaceful and secure. That look had disappeared in her world. No one was at peace anymore. No one was secure.
The team contracted back toward them, still scanning the darkness. They glanced at the body and whispered obscenities.
“It’s my fault,” Alex whispered. “I broke security.”
“Park, you knew where she was?” Shepherd said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you let her come down here?”
“I… No excuse, sir.”
Shepherd’s voice became human again. “Let’s keep our guard up. This isn’t an exercise. Pops!”
“Yeah,” Murray said although he continued staring at the lifeless body, which seemed to float in the expanding pool of blood.
“Get your team to search the corpse. See if he’s got any ID.”
“Fletcher, O’Brian, check the body and head back upstairs once you’re done,” Murray said.
The two soldiers knelt beside the dead man, rifling through his pockets and trying to avoid the blood pool.
Shepherd moved toward the stairway. “Let’s go, Alex.” She stooped to recover her helmet and then looked up. Shepherd was watching her. “Was your helmet on?”
“It wasn’t secured.”
Shepherd let out a long breath.
You screwed up, sweetie. That’s what he’s thinking. Just like he thought you would. Fresh meat going to get us all killed.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Shepherd stopped beside her and examined her neck. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?”
“You’re bleeding. Here.” He put his finger on a wet spot just over the pulse of her carotid artery.
He produced a field dressing from one of the pouches on his vest and wiped the blood away. “It’s superficial. But that crazy bastard knew his anatomy. He really knew his anatomy.” There was a smile in his voice, the first she had heard since their departure from Colorado Springs. Then his words softened, “If your Dad ever found out about any of this…”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Shepherd grinned. Now you got one on me, he seemed to be thinking. In some odd way, the incident reinforced her belonging with the team.
Above them, storm clouds obscured the sun. The upper terminal was now almost as dark as the concourse below. Rain pattered on the roof and the glass panes. “What did that guy say to you?” Shepherd asked.
Alex tried to organize the confused noises and images in her mind. “He… didn’t really say anything. He just said he’d kill me if I made any noise.”
Shepherd gave a noncommittal grunt.
“But when I got the gun… he changed. He acted like I was someone he was waiting for. But I’ve never been here before…” Her voice trailed off, emptying into the serrated knife entering the man’s neck, the gush of blood, and the wet gurgle.
After a pause, she said, “Do you think he was with the NEA?”
“Doubt it. The NEA has military training. This kid didn’t act like military or paramilitary. If he were NEA, he would have come in shooting after what we did… after the bridge.”
She thought of the dark red stains and pieces of flesh and bone on the roadway. Then she remembered the condition of the bridge itself. How are we going to get back across?
“Captain!” Murray said. Alex and Shepherd turned and saw him racing toward them. “Ziegler says we have incoming fires!”
Shepherd reached his helmet and toggled a switch on his earpiece, “This is Shepherd, what’s the… Understood, keep me informed.”
“What is it?” Alex said.
“Command sent a warning. They picked up indirect fires signatures, probably mortars heading our way.”
“How long do we have?”
Shepherd turned to the rest of the team. “We need to move! Now!”
Alex followed him back toward the staircase. Shepherd waved the team down into the concourse and then followed. “There has to be a way out onto the street. Start looking.”
The men switched on their weapon lights and searched the walls for an exit.
“Over here!” Murray said and shoved a door open with a loud creak, allowing the dim storm-light to push back the shadows.
A howling scream tore into the building with an explosive crescendo that shook the structure and caused shards of the ceiling to fall to the ground.
“Everyone out!” Shepherd shouted. “Get across the street!”
“Outa’ the frying pan,” Murray muttered.
Corporal Williams, closest to the door, shouldered his weapon and stepped out from the cover of the concourse, sweeping the street in both directions. He ran across the pavement and took cover behind an empty newspaper stand. Park moved up and crouched near the door. He aimed down the street to the east before gesturing for someone to go across. Murray ran out of the concourse and sprinted to the newspaper stand where he took up cover with Williams. “Clear!” Murray shouted.
“Roger, clear,” Park confirmed. “Wait…”
Before he could finish, Corporal Hensley from Bravo dashed across the street. A bullet smacked his helmet with a loud whack, throwing him to the right midway from the door to the newsstand.
“Sniper! Hensley’s down!” Park said and then began firing east.
“Ziegler, do you read me?” Shepherd said.
Over the fire of Park’s rifle, Alex missed the distinctive whine of an incoming round until half a second before the munition hit. The world shook. A cacophonous crash sounded from the upper terminal. Pieces of concrete broke away from the ceiling and smashed to the floor. A chunk hit her shoulder. Was the building about to cave in on them?
“Where’s that damn sniper?!” Shepherd said.
Park stared through his sight. “Up on the roof! I missed him.”
The building shook again as another round exploded above them. The central ceiling near the staircase collapsed, blowing dust and debris out of the only opening: the door they were huddled against. Park steadied his elbow against his knee and fired a series of semi-automatic shots.
“Well?” Shepherd yelled.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Park lowered his rifle. “Bingo.”
Williams sprinted back across the street to Hensley and dragged him through the concourse doorway. A bright red streak followed them from the dark blotch on the pavement.
Hensley’s ballistic helmet remained strapped to his head, with a single hole on the left side and a larger exit hole on the right. The helmet had kept the gore in, allowing the blood and brain matter to drip out at the rim. Hensley. Good looking kid. Good athlete. Married. He has kids, too, doesn’t he?
Alex began to cry, causing the others to glance at her in alarm. Shepherd knelt and pulled her chin from between her knees up to his face. His voice had a sound she had never heard before. Is it fear?
“Focus,” he said, just as her coaches had done during the exercises near Cheyenne Mountain. “Focus, Alex. Remember the mission.”
She nodded and sniffed. Focus. Even Shepherd’s a little nervous. They’re counting on you. Don’t turn into a whining daddy’s girl. Her father’s face came to her and she almost started crying again. But Shepherd’s voice kept her steady.
The fourth round detonated in the middle of the street between the terminal and the newsstand. She heard the nerve-rending scream, the explosion, and then the concussion wave threw her onto the ground. She landed on her back and checked herself over. Nothing broken… yet.
Hensley’s body rolled against the legs of a rusted bench. His helmet blew off and away, allowing Alex to see the fist-sized exit hole in his head. Park was back at the doorway, scanning the rooftops. Shepherd appeared above her and hauled her to her feet before guiding her to the entrance. Williams had scooted back to the newsstand with Murray.
A staccato barrage of automatic fire assaulted her already painfully ringing eardrums. The bullets stitched across the pavement in front of them and threw chips of asphalt and dust into the air. Murray and Williams returned fire from across the street but their weapons sounded small and inconsequential.
Rounds clanged into the newsstand, forcing Murray and Williams to duck.
Shepherd turned to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I need you to take the building down.”
“I-I haven’t—” she said, but Shepherd moved toward the door.
She followed him.
“Stay next to me,” Shepherd said. “We’re going over to the newsstand. I’ll stay between you and the bullets.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if— I’ve never…”
Shepherd put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “I need to know if you can do this. Pops and Williams need our help. We all need your help. Are you ready?”
She gave a reluctant nod.
Shepherd switched the selector on his rifle to automatic, tapped Park on the shoulder, and then ran out into the street. Alex sprinted after him, but then there was a sharp whine, and the top of the bus terminal exploded behind them. The shockwave threw her into the sidewalk. Her shoulder jammed against the curb. Shepherd grabbed her collar and pulled her behind the newsstand.
“Good to see you, sir.” The grime and sweat on Murray’s face distorted his smile.
Shepherd brushed dust and debris off Alex’s uniform. “Are you hurt?”
She rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”
“Is everyone all right?” Park called from across the street. She looked back toward the terminal. Part of the roof had collapsed into the road. Debris lay scattered near the concourse doorway while a fractured support column blocked Park from moving out to provide covering fire.
“We’re good!” Shepherd said.
“Both of us are red on ammo,” Murray said.
“Let’s do this quick, then.”
“I’m ready,” Alex said, although she felt much less than ready.
“Remember to keep behind me. Just look over my shoulder to get a visual.”
“I know.”
Shepherd leaned out from behind the newsstand and fired on the apartment building. Puffs of dust erupted from the side of the structure and glass rained down as the bullets raked the upper windows. Alex edged out behind Shepherd, focused on the apartment building, and fought to concentrate over the thundering fire from his rifle.
As she closed her eyes, she could feel the rust that coated the building’s pipes, the decaying wires of the electrical system, and even the small cracks in the steel and concrete supports. Every hallway, room, cabinet and crawlspace became visible. Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest. A dull ache grew in her forehead. The building shook. She concentrated on the cracked supports. One-by-one they fractured, toppled, and then gave way.
Shepherd continued firing. A shell casing ricocheted into her left cheek. The brass burned her skin. She instinctively lashed out and ripped the rifle from Shepherd’s hands. The weapon flew across the street and struck the curb, where it snapped and broke in half.
“Jesus,” Shepherd whispered.
She blocked him out and focused on the apartment building. She had become a ghost at the center of the structure, able to reach out and touch the lights, wiring, insulation, and air duct. All the rooms at once. Her hands against the support pillars, their appearance deceptively solid but rotten within from time, rust, and neglect.
Her vision darkened, blurring in and out of focus with the pillars at the center. They were in the palms of her hands. A ghostly whispering, languages and words she didn’t understand, spoke to her from invisible mouths, filling her ears and mind. Those voices granted her a surge of power. She clenched her fists with her nails digging into her palms.
The apartment building’s walls broke apart with a hollow screech as the supports gave way. A wave of heat swept over her face, her skull, throbbing with an intensity that made her want to scream.
Time stopped.
She gave a final push and then let go.
Rippling energy smashed into the apartment building, distorting the air around the structure like a heat wave. The building toppled backward into the first of two identical towers behind it. Like stacks of dominoes, the buildings collapsed. She was still in the middle of it all, watching the structures disintegrate, the pillars shatter, the roofs collapse. The heat was in her and outside her, releasing in the destruction. The noise was deafening but she clearly heard the voices in her head. Then the vision, the heat, and the voices drained out of her like the hot air of a furnace, leaving her as empty and useless as the shell casings at her feet.
“Holy...” Murray murmured.
Alex slumped on her hands and knees and wiped blood away from her nose. Distantly, she heard the concussion of the apartment buildings collapsing. The noise, dust, and acrid stench of burning concrete swept over them with the convulsive tremors of devastation. Her arms trembled. Shepherd knelt and helped her into a sitting position against the newsstand.
“I did it.” Her voice wavered. She felt lightheaded and doubted she had enough energy to stand. She looked at Shepherd’s broken rifle in the middle of the street. “Sorry I…”
Shepherd’s voice became a smile: “Don’t worry. Plenty more where that came from. Still it was my favorite fish!” Then his voice changed as he studied her eyes. “My God!”
“What? What is it?”
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They’re… red.”
“What do you mean? Am I bleeding?”
“No, it’s…” Shepherd’s voice trailed off as he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Whatever it was is gone now.”
“We should get moving,” Murray said.
“Can you walk?” Shepherd asked Alex.
She tried to push herself off the ground, bracing her back against the newsstand as she rose. Her muscles ached but she managed to get to her feet. She stepped toward sidewalk’s edge. Then the nausea came and her vision lost focus. She tripped on a piece of debris. Shepherd caught her and held her upright. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“We need to wait for her to recover,” Shepherd said. “We’ll be safe for now if that building was the observation point for their mortars.”
Shepherd kept her close against his combat vest with his arms around her. She heard the footsteps of Murray and Williams moving away toward the bus terminal. Shepherd spoke into her ear, “We’ll get you back inside. You can rest until we figure out what to do. Okay?”
She lifted her head. The edges of her vision were blurry but she noticed the concern on his face. She gave him a weak nod. “Okay.”
Shepherd put an arm around her back to keep her steady and then guided her back to the bus terminal. At the entrance, Murray and Williams stood looking at the concrete block that had fallen from the upper level. The broken column obstructed all but a narrow space near the top of the doorway.
“There has to be another way to get in,” Williams said.
“You want us to go check the other side of the building?” Murray said.
“Not yet,” Shepherd said and put a finger to his headset. “Park, do you read me?”
“I’m right here, sir,” Park said from the other side of the concrete block.
“We’ll be coming through one-by-one. Help Alex get down once I get her on top of this column.”
“I can try to move it,” she said.
“No,” Shepherd said. “I don’t want you… doing that again.”
That. How did I manage to do that to an entire building? During training with the team, she had destroyed small bunkers, disabled vehicles, and once had even demolished an old C-17 Globemaster at Peterson Air Force Base. She had never imagined that she would be able to topple an entire apartment complex.
“Sure you don’t want us to just check the other side of the building?” Murray said.
“I don’t want us exposed to any other avenues of fire. The team in that building might not have been the only one in the area. We’ll play it safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shepherd looked at Alex. “I’ll help you up. Grab the top of the column and Park will pull you over. Can you do that?”
“I’ll manage.”
Shepherd hoisted her up by her waist. She grabbed the edge of the concrete block. Her muscles burned as she struggled to lift herself. Park took her arms and pulled her inside the concourse while Shepherd pushed her legs over the outer edge of the column. She rolled off the top and landed on her feet. Park guided her to bench and then returned to the door as Williams began his climb inside. Once Williams was through, he and Park helped Sergeant Murray over. Shepherd followed a moment later, pulling himself to the top column and then sliding through the opening.
“Okay,” Shepherd said. “Let’s secure this place. Alpha, take the east. Bravo, take the west. ID the entrances and cover the doors.”
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Wilson said.
“Williams,” Shepherd continued, “police up the body.” He pointed to Hensley’s crippled, mutilated form.
“Sir?” Williams said.
“Cover him up as well as you can. Distribute his ammo. I’ll take his rifle.”
“Sir,” Williams said and then slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved to Hensley’s body. He lifted the corpse by the arms and dragged it away from where it had come to rest after the explosion. He removed a camouflage poncho from his assault pack to arrange it over the body before beginning to pile chunks of building around the corpse as a make-shift bier.
Park approaches and put his hand on Hensley’s covered face. “Sayonara, Beefcake.”
“Beefcake?” Williams said.
Park grinned for a moment, “I called him ‘Beefcake’ because he was so skinny. He called me ‘Ass-wipe’ because I always managed to avoid getting smoked at basic. He said I should join the candy-ass drill team.”
Faint tears escaped Park’s eyes and trickled to his chin.
“You were good buds, huh?” Williams said.
“I was his best man. He’s got a wife and two…” Park’s voice drifted off as he turned and covered his face with his hand, making dirty finger marks across his forehead.
Shepherd came and crouched next to Park. “You didn’t cause his death, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Park said but his shoulders continued shaking.
Male bonding, Alex thought but she was genuinely touched. Her own eyes began to water. Park had said it was clear, and Hensley had darted out before he could say it wasn’t. The men trusted each other completely. Now, Hensley was dead. Was there anything I could have done? Park had seemed so professional, so confident, but then he hadn’t been watching when she had gone down into the lower concourse. And then he hadn’t seen the sniper until a second too late.
She stood from the bench, approached Park, and put her hand on his shoulder. To her surprise, he turned and hugged her. “I killed him. He went out because of me. I told him it was clear.”
Her own tears fell on Park’s hair. That’s okay, a voice spoke into her mind. It will be all right. They were her mother’s words, spoken so many years ago, before the plague, before her abilities, a time when they had all smiled and laughed together. Vague memories of a distant time like a fairy tale.
“All right,” Shepherd said. Alex glanced at him. He had replaced his sweat and dust stained goggles. His voice was flat and hard as rock.
He’s the leader again, she thought with admiration.
“Let’s pull it together. No one is at fault,” he said, emphasizing each word.
Park stopped sniffling and let go of her. The energy that had burned out of her like a hot wind was starting to return, but she still felt spent, tired beyond reckoning. She returned to the bench and sat. The rest of the team took their stations securing the concourse. Shepherd checked each position himself, verifying lines of sight and checking for blind spots. After a few minutes, he returned to the bench.
“How are you feeling?”
Pain radiated in slow pulses from her right shoulder into her chest and neck. Had she broken any bones? She wanted something to numb the pain but she knew she had to stay focused. “I'll live,” she said.
Shepherd sat next to her on the bench, undid the chinstraps of his helmet, and then set it aside. Sweat matted down his dark blond hair. She smelled the battle, the grime and sweat, the gunpowder on him, and to her surprise, found it agreeable. “You did well out there.”
She looked toward Hensley’s body and shook her head. “I wish I could have done something.”
“Remember what I just said. It was no one’s fault.”
“I know.”
“How’s your shoulder? You banged it pretty hard.”
“It’s fine.”
“Do you want me to take a look at it?”
“No, I’m okay, I’ll—” She grimaced as she moved her arm.
“I need to know if you’re hurt.”
“I don’t think it’s serious.”
“Take off your jacket.”
“It’s really—”
“Alex,” Shepherd interrupted.
“Fine.”
She unzipped the front of her uniform and then withdrew her left arm from the jacket’s sleeve. She carefully pulled the rest of the jacket off her right arm, trying to avoid moving her injured shoulder. Shepherd rolled up the sleeve of her undershirt, and they both examined the blue and purple bruise extending from her collarbone to the top of her arm. The area was swollen. Each time Shepherd’s fingers grazed the bruise, small pulses of pain caused her to flinch.
“I need to feel to make sure nothing’s broken,” Shepherd said. “This will hurt.”
Alex nodded.
Shepherd put his left hand near her neck and pulled her shirtsleeve up until the bulge of her collarbone appeared. He gently ran his fingers along the bruise with his other hand, applying pressure against her skin and the bone beneath. She gritted her teeth while Shepherd pressed his fingers into her shoulder. By the time he was done, there were tears in the corners of her eyes.
Shepherd let her sleeve fall back in place before giving her a gentle pat on the back. “I can’t feel anything broken, but you shouldn’t be in this much pain. You may have a fracture somewhere. I’ll rig up a sling for—”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She felt embarrassed and grabbed the jacket and held it in front of her.
“If the pain gets any worse, you need to tell me.”
“I will.” Her face felt warm but Shepherd was now looking around at the others.
“Good.” Shepherd stood from the bench and picked up his helmet. “I’m going to call higher. I’ll come back and check on you.”
“Okay.” She slowly and carefully replaced her jacket.
Shepherd strapped his helmet in place and keyed his microphone. He spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. She heard the words: “fire fight,” “one down,” “buildings destroyed,” and “NEA.” After he finished his transmission, he stood with his hand pressed to his headset and motioned Murray to join him.
They put their heads together like conspirators. “Help’s on the way,” Shepherd said.
“How soon?” Murray asked.
“They’re sending one of the forward deployed gunships for fire support. It’ll be here in three hours.”
“A gunship won’t help us cross the river. What about evac?”
Shepherd shook his head. “It’ll take longer for an Osprey to reach us.”
“What are we supposed to do if we get attacked?” Alex said.
The two men glanced up and shifted to include her in the huddle. Shepherd continued, “Once the Spectre starts circling, we’ll have fire superiority. If we get hit before then, we’ll have to hold out.” He looked over his shoulder and gestured toward the other end of the concourse. “There’s another level below us that leads into the subways. If shit hits the fan, we’ll regroup down there.”
“Do you think they will attack us?” Alex said. “Don’t you think those buildings collapsing scared them off?”
“For now,” Shepherd said. “But they won’t give up.”
Corporal Williams shouted from the other end of the concourse, “Pops!”
“What is it?” Murray called back.
Williams shouted again, “You really need to see this.”
They converged on Williams. A decomposed corpse lay in place of the young man who had killed himself. Clotted blood soaked his tattered clothes, but beneath his garments, only thin strips of flesh hung from his otherwise exposed skeleton. His muscles, tendons, and internal organs were gone as if melted away into the ground.
“What the hell?” Shepherd said. “Who did this?”
“It wasn’t us,” Williams said.
“Was anyone watching the body during the firefight?”
Wilson shook his head. “No, but all the entrances were covered. No one could have made it past us. And anyway, where would they put all the… the stuff?”
They all stared at the remains. Then Shepherd touched his headset and let out a long breath. “This will have to wait. We have a problem.”