Reckoning ~ Indian Hill 2 ~ A Michael Talbot Adventure (14 page)

***

“What was that?!” the general snapped back.

“Sir! We got one! We got one!!!” There was a huge, tumultuous “Ooh Rah” and that was the last thing the old man heard before the command post joined the majority of the combatants on the hill. It seemed a pretty fitting ending, the general thought as he watched with indifference. Then, slowly he ascended, failing to understand the imagery below him. The battle waged on; men didn’t need leadership when their ass was on the line. Saving one’s skin was incentive enough.

Another gunship was brought down, this one seemed to be more from mechanical failure than anything the Marines launched. All the tanks had been taken out early, especially after they proved lethal to the ships. The Marines M-16 fire was about as affective as the charge of the Polish Cavalry against the German Panzer division in World War II, basically nil. Fifteen hundred human men was an awfully high price to pay for two gunships, although the Progerians didn’t see it that way.

Chapter 22

Aboard the Mother Ship

“The supreme commander is going to be awfully disappointed with your tactics, Kuvlar.”

Kuvlar, for lack of a better term, was the interim supreme commander. The Progerians didn’t have any sort of fail safes in place like our government; such as, if the president is out of the picture, the vice president steps in, then the House Leader, and so forth. Eleven Progerians had stepped into the Coliseum and performed ritualistic battle. Kuvlar had dominated those games and was now interim supreme commander. But Kuvlar’s emotions more closely resembled a human’s.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he loved his newfound power. He basked in it, wanted it. He hoped that the supreme commander was dead and, if not, maybe he could do something to change that. This was no cold, calculating thought process that humans often attribute to crocodiles; it was more like red-hot, human passion. That was why the sub-commander’s remarks elicited a loud snarl and gnashing of Kuvlar’s jaws.

“Right now, Sub-Commander Tuvok, I am the supreme commander. I have only myself to answer to.”

“Sir, we just lost two gunships in our first attack.”

“I am fully aware of that. I guess the puny hu-mans really do have a nasty bite.” Kuvlar was remembering the blast that had wiped out a significant portion of their fleet. He hoped that the thousands of ships launched would be enough to conquer the planet. The only other alternative was for him to be forcibly brought back to his home planet to answer for his ineptitude. By then, the meeting would be no more than a formality, after which he would be enslaved and forced to fight in the very games he loved to watch.

Chapter 23

“What the hell is going on?!” Deb shouted in horror as she peeked out the storm cellar door to see five more F-16’s scrambling.

“Honey, shut the door,” a nervous Mr. Carody said softly. He wasn’t sure if anyone could hear him over the din, but he was afraid to say it any louder.

“It’s happening, Beth, isn’t it?” Deb asked, turning to Beth. Beth was huddled in the corner. If she had found more room, she would have been in the fetal position. Now Deb appeared to be the stronger of the two. Beth had spent so much time trying to obliterate the memories from her mind that she was now having a difficult time wrapping her thoughts around the present.

“Oh, Beth,” Deb said with true concern in her voice as she passed by her shivering father. Shivering? Was it cold? Her dad afraid? Impossible! The man was a rock. He must just be cold, Deb thought to herself as she wrapped her arms around Beth. Deb grabbed her openly weeping mother and pulled her into the fray too. Her dad came willingly enough after that. For two hours, they stayed like that; nobody dared move. Maybe if they stayed still long enough nobody would ever notice that they were there.

Chapter 24

Above Vail

“Con 7? This is Yankee Whiskey 1,” Colonel Dodson said from the cockpit of his F-16.

“Go ahead, Yankee Whisky 1, this is Con 7,” the control tower at AFB Denver replied.

“Con 7. Vail Mount is burning. I repeat, burning. No signs of life below.” The colonel had no idea who was down there but even as high up and fast as he was going, he could tell that the devastation was beyond anything he could ever compare it to. “Please dispatch helo’s.”

“Confirmed, Yankee Whiskey 1. What of the bogies?”

“We have them on radar, Con 7. They seem to be heading your way.”

“We see them. Any sign of them in your area?”

“Negative, Con 7.”

“Do you have an intercept Yankee Whiskey 1?”

“Con 7, at their present speed, we can intercept but it’s going to be close. You may want to evacuate.”

“Negative, Yankee Whiskey 1. We have jets scrambling from Colorado Springs.”

“How many, Con 7?”

“Two air wings.”

“Con 7, even if we make it on time, we’re still outnumbered five to one. I must strongly urge you to evacuate.”

“Colonel? This is Major General Baslin on the line now. That is a negative on the retreat. We will not abandon our post. We are your eyes and ears and the last line of defense for Denver.”

“Roger that, Major General. Squadrons two and four, I want you on full burn with my wing ‘til we intercept. Three and five, I want you to maintain present speed. We are going to need fresh fighters with plenty of fuel. Good luck all, today we fight, tomorrow we’ll worry about dying.” That elicited a chorus of loud “Whoop’s" over the radio before everyone attended to the business at hand.

***

Five rescue helicopters from the Forest Rangers department attempted to land and aid. That was an impossibility. The ground itself appeared to be on fire.

“Shit!”

“What is it, Cappy?” Ranger Buckley asked Joe 'Cappy' Fremont.

“That ground down there looks like when I used to fly tourists in Hawaii over Kilauea, the active volcano. I thought I would never see that kind of heat again.”

“Why did you leave a cushy job like that? Taking tourists on a little cruise flight.”

“I’m afraid of fire.”

“So you joined the Rangers to fight forest fires?”

“What can I say? I love trees.”

“Cappy, that doesn’t look like just trees down there.”

“Hold on! I’m going to see if I can get us a closer look.” Even from five hundred feet, they could feel the heat from the blaze below, but the proximity did allow them to identify some shapes.

“Hey Buck! Are those tanks?” Cappy asked as he pointed down and to the left.

“Cappy, I think you’re right but what the hell are tanks doing here? You think this was some sort of firing range accident?”

“I don’t think so, Buck, not unless they were firing some low-level nukes. Radio the rest of the helo’s. We’ll attempt to land closer to the city and confiscate some cars.”

“Roger that, Cappy.” A fresh bead of sweat rolled off Buck’s brow and it had nothing to do with how close they were to the blaze.

***

The F-16’s thundered through the sky. For those that did not yet know what was happening, the squadron solved that little problem. Houses shook, knick-knacks flew off shelves. People cried anew. Most really had no clue what was going on; but they saw the invaders come in. One look over at the mountains and you could tell a major battle had been waged and now U.S. fighters were screaming through the air. Most citizens were still under the impression that this was some sort of terrestrial attack, Russia or perhaps, China. For those unlucky few who knew the truth, there would be no comfort tonight.

***

“Yankee Whiskey 1, this is Yankee Foxtrot 2.”

“Go ahead, Foxtrot 2.”

“Sir, I have visual confirmation of bogies.”

“My radar is scattering, Foxtrot 2. Where are they located?”

“Eleven-thirty, sir.”

The colonel turned his head slightly to the left and, by squinting, barely saw the glint of the gunships as they flew over Lakewood.

“Good work, Foxtrot 2. Let’s give them hell.” Hell might have been a little difficult that night, but they did give them a big heaping of heck.

***

ABC Affiliate KDVR, Denver

“You better get the chief for this one, Malone.”

“What’s up, Stewart?”

“You have got to see what Fox is reporting!” Bob Stewart shouted over the reporter on the televisions he was monitoring. All the stations did it… Sort of like the big discount stores shopping each other to make sure that the competition didn't have a leg up on them. While most of the stations were scrambling for the details up in Vail, some had already confirmed that it was either a terrorist-detonated bomb, an industrial accident, or a military jet crashing, depending upon which station reported it. Fox, however, always sensationalized their reports. And it was doing wonders for them. The fledgling station had made dramatic leaps in the ratings war.

“Fox is reporting that we are under attack.”

“Attack? From whom?”

“Malone, just get the chief.” He meant the editor-in-chief, Warren Sapstein. A severe man who had the disposition and temperament to match his dour looks. “He’s gonna flip.”

For such a busy man, Stewart was surprised with the speed at which Sapstein made it down to the monitoring booth, as it was affectionately called. It had, once upon a time, been a fairly large room; but now, with all the monitors stuffed into it, three people could barely fit side-by-side.

“Stewart, this had better be damn important. I have five news vehicles heading up to Vail and another crew headed towards a shooting in Aurora.”

“Sir, Fox is reporting that we are under attack.”

“Who is under attack, Stewart? This station? An embassy in China? An Army barracks in Germany? Who?”

“Sir, the United States.”

“What? What are those assholes doing?” Stewart flinched at the severity in the boss’ voice. “I love ratings as much as the next guy, but what are they doing? Where, son?”

“Here, sir. Vail. They’re saying that Vail is under attack.”

“What kind of commie crap is this? Why would the Russians give a rat’s ass about a bunch of stuck-up rich socialites and the ski bums that serve them?”

“Sir, they’re saying it’s not the Russians.”

“Spit it out, Stewart, or you’re going to be sorting mail on Monday.” His wasn’t the greatest job in the world, but it beat sorting mail. He was getting paid to watch television, for shit’s sake.