Authors: Doug Vossen
Skyfire (18 page)
That sounded like a firecracker exploding in mud. Gross. I can’t wait to take a shower and down eight fingers of whiskey
.
“Harrison, let’s get to those birds.”
“Roger, sir. I think I see Sergeant Martin over there by that middle one.”
“Hey man, you did good,” said Trent.
Harrison looked puzzled.
“I know you’re an intel guy, but you did awesome. Great job, man.” Trent suddenly felt awkward.
“Thanks, sir. Should we keep going?”
Fuck, it’s not over yet.
The volume of gunfire throughout the firebase reminded Trent of one final task.
“Just call me Trent, man. And yeah, let’s move.”
CALLIE
This agitated Callie. “Someone,please! I need to get this little girl on this fucking helicopter!
”
Callie found herself in a shoving match with a woman in her late 50s. “Lady, please!”
“Look here, I am GETTING on this helicopter, bitch!” said the woman, forcing her way on.
Callie couldn’t believe the woman’s audacity. Begrudging a child medical attention – it was baffling. She stumbled back as people began fighting over the final seat on the helicopter. It was a mess, a prime example of survival instinct overrunning more rational human behavior.
This isn’t happening. I’m going to get trampled by these animals
!
Callie was knocked to the ground. She was on her rear end pushing backwardwith her heels, clutching Jessica to her chest
.
Two large men clawing each other’s face fell on top of her. She tried with all her remaining strength to push away from the commotion so she could reassess the situation
.
I can’t get my leg out from under these two fat-asses! Goddamn it!
The two men were now locked in an intense wrestling match, nose-to-nose and completely unaware of their surroundings. Callie was able to pull one leg loose and kick the top man repeatedly. She aimed for his head and didn’t stop. She could feel the reverberations of her foot against a human skull, over and over again, the vibration dissipating through the rubber sole of her knee-high leather boot. After several kicks Callie realized her foot hurt very badly. She was on the verge of giving up when she felt a pair of hands grab underneath her armpits and forcefully drag her backward. She was surprised at how fast she was moved backward; the pressure of the person’s fingertips dug into the top outside corners of both her breasts. Just then, she felt a sting in the back of her head. It took every ounce of self-discipline not to release her death-grip on Jessica
.
What the fuck was that?
Callie turned to see the silhouette of a man in a baseball cap. It was Trent. The sting on the back of her head was from his knee as he stumbled backward.
“Shit, my bad Callie,” said Trent. “I saw what happened. Fuck that. Jessica is getting on that helicopter no matter what. That shit was shameful!”
“What the hell can we do?”
Trent flicked the selector level on his carbine to ‘semi’ and hit the quick release on his gear. “Follow me. Be ready to hand over Jess. And to use that gun of yours again.”
Oh shit. What does this psycho have planned?
Trent ran back to the commotion by the helicopter. There was no semblance of control. It was an embarrassing sight - humans acting in such a selfish, underhanded manner. Trent placed his right hand on the empty rail of his M4 and pointed the weapon above his head, careful not to hit the rotors. He squeezed the trigger with the meaty portion of his left index finger and fired repeated bursts, sweeping the carbine left to right, back and forth, until he’d expended the magazine.
The civilians clamoring around the aircraft were unaccustomed to the sound of the distant popcorn gunfire, let alone Trent’s M4 up close and personal. Most hit the ground and started screaming even louder, terrified. Trent pushed forward, plowing through anyone still stupid enough to be in his way. He didn’t care about anything except getting Jessica on the next bird out. The crew chief was making a move to close the door.
Callie had run up to within two paces behind Trent.
“This is a priority casualty!” Trent yelled. “That woman is going on the next lift out!” He pointed to the woman in the front left seat next to the door, the one who’d shoved Callie and Jessica. The crew chief was just as dumbstruck as everyone else. Trent placed one foot inside the Blackhawk, reached for the woman’s chest and rotated her four-pronged seatbelt fastening device, releasing all the straps.
The woman immediately began clawing his face and pushing him as hard as she could. He clasped her neck with his right arm, wound up with his left hand and smashed his fist full-force into the woman’s nose. Blood spattered everywhere. The woman let out an exasperated, pathetic cry. Trent didn’t care. All he saw was the most disgusting, selfish weakness - an adult placing her needs over those of a child.
He then turned to the crew chief. “Dude, I’m sorry but that little girl has to go now! This woman goes on the next one!” The door gunner continued to look bewildered.
Trent ripped the woman out of the helicopter, threw her to the ground and turned to Callie. “Point your gun at that stupid twat and crack her in the face if she gets feisty again!”
Callie nodded.
Trent rotated his sling so his carbine hung on his right hip, its barrel pointed down. He gently grabbed Jessica out of Callie’s arms. Jessica’s neck slumped under the weight of her head. Supporting her head with his hand, Trent stepped back into the aircraft. He buckled Jessica into the final seat, slowly lowering her head. “You’re going to be fine, Jess. They’re taking you someplace safe that’s far, far away.” Trent kissed her on the forehead and exited the helicopter. A tear slipped down his face.
Oh my god, he did it.
Trent ran to Callie and embraced her as if they’d been separated for an eternity. “Callie, you did great. Really, I am so proud of you. Amazing job.”
Callie began tearing up. “Thanks, Trent.” She buried her head in Trent’s chest and sobbed.
I’m so tired.
Unfortunately, their moment could not last more than a few seconds. “Let’s collect the others and figure out our next move,” said Trent. He grabbed his gear.
Two of the fuller Blackhawks lifted off into the evening sky. The birds banked hard north and west, fleeing the metropolitan area as fast as technology would take them. The aircraft containing Jessica had its doors closed. Finally, after thirty seconds that felt like hours, the Blackhawk’s wheels retracted and the bird was in the air. A wave of relief washed over Trent and Callie. It was their one small victory amid the madness.
“Callie, let’s roll.”
JESSICA
Wait, what’s this?
Jess became aware of a butterfly feeling in her stomach, as if she were riding a roller coaster. She still couldn’t see or smell anything. The loud, low-pitched hum that rattled her brain was gone, leaving her suspended in complete emptiness and silence. Soon, the terrifying torrent of thoughts entered her brain, and Jessica was once again entrenched in self-doubt, abandonment, and fear.
It’s time, little one,
said a voice.
I don’t understand! What do you want?! Leave me alone! I wanna go back to Trent and Callie!
Irrelevant.
You’re not a nice person! Why do you treat people like this?
We are one in the same, young one.
I’m nothing like you!
Jessica felt her arms move to her chest and grasp a ridged plastic wheel at the height of her breast bone. She twisted it counterclockwise and felt it fall away.
What is this?
Her entire body was thrust forward, landing on a metallic surface. Her stomach dropped again and she lost her footing.
Stop it! What are you doing? GO AWAY!
The red feeling had penetrated deep within Jessica’s mind, increasing her fear exponentially.
Young one, the less you struggle, the easier our union will be.
Go away! Mommy, why is this happening? I was a good little girl. Good things happen to good little girls! They go to heaven when they die, right? Mommy?
Deliverance is at hand, fledgling. Your heaven is dead.
Jessica’s insides had begun to stabilize from the dropping sensation, but now she felt a pang of nausea.
Oh god!
Jessica let out a squeak of pain as acidic bile shot up her esophagus and projected out into the black infinity before her. The burn in her throat and nasal passages was excruciating.
She felt a stream of diarrhea go down both her skinny legs.
Don’t fight it. Be still and it will all be over soon. Embrace the amalgamation.
Jessica was pushed forward into the blackness. She felt her feet slide forward along the metallic surface, now sticky with her excrement and vomit. Her thumbs sunk into separate squishy vessels until she felt a pop and a torrent of strange, sticky fluid. Hands pawed at her lower body as she clamored forward with a strength she had never known before.
Why am I moving? Stay still! STAY STILL!
There was no response from the red feeling. Jessica kept clamoring forward, falling to her knees and getting up again. Occasionally, she felt her foot strike something hard, or her hand claw at something soft and sinewy.
What do you want?
Just then, Jessica felt her hands grasp something cylindrical with either a hard plastic or alloy finish. It was positioned vertically. She couldn’t determine its exact shape or texture in the dark room. Jessica found herself pulling down and to the right, as hard as she could, unable to control distinct movements. Her stomach dropped, and dropped, until she no longer felt any emotions, nausea, or even the sticky metallic surface. There was nothing left.
YOU BELONG TO US NOW, FLEDGLING.
CALLIE
Callie and Trent were thrown to the ground by the force of the helicopter smashing into the grass. Black, billowing smoke masked the blazing inferno and molten metal within the fuselage. Without thinking, Trent clambered to his feet and sprinted toward the crash, no more than two hundred meters from where the Blackhawk had lifted off.
Oh my god, everything was for nothing. This is NOT fucking happening. I didn’t go through all that shit for nothing!
Callie ran after him, trailing behind by ten paces. Sweat dripped from her brow, mixing with the crusted blood on her face as it streamed into her eyes, making it hard to see. Neither Trent nor Callie could hear screams from the downed helicopter; it was more than likely everyone inside had died instantaneously. Just as they closed to within fifty meters, the wreckage sparked. The fuel detonated, extinguishing any last hope of survivors.
Trent was knocked backwards forcefully, the light from the flames illuminating his face. He stared at the wreckage, awestruck.
“Hughes!” Callie screamed, catching up to him.
Trent scrambled to his hands and knees as the wreckage sparked again. The remaining portion of the fuselage exploded, knocking him off balance. “Goddamn it! Fuck you!” Tears streamed down his face. “Fuck you!” He sobbed and began punching the ground repeatedly in a frenzied tantrum.
Oh my god, he’s losing it.
Callie saw the unmistakable pain of acute loss on his face. Trent had seen the unexplainable, killed more than once, and now watched Jessica die. He no longer had the strength to hold it together. It hurt Callie to see him this way, almost as much as it hurt to realize Jess was dead.
I need to get him out of here, now. No more good can come from us looking at this. We’re still in danger.
The bird’s left side M240B door gun began cooking off rounds sporadically, sounding like a handful of silverware dropped on the dinner table.
Shit, if that’s what I think it is then we’re REALLY not safe here.
Trent looked at Callie in the orange glow of the death beside them, an expression of hopelessness on his face. “Why?”
I need to play this smart. He’s on the edge, but he hasn’t stepped over it yet.
“Trent, I don’t know. I really don’t. Do you think we can get up and go back to everyone else right now?” Callie knelt next to him and rubbed his slumped back. His hooded black sweatshirt was drenched in sweat. Trent remained quiet, tears streaming down his face, but the sobbing had settled into a sniffle. The smell of burning fuel, charred flesh, and expended ammunition almost made Callie retch.
Trent placed his left thumb and forefingers on his eyes. It looked like he was grabbing the tears and throwing them to the ground instead of wiping them. It was as if he were saying, ‘I don’t need this shit anymore.’ Trent turned to Callie and stared deeply.
Holy shit.
Callie was taken aback by the intensity in Trent’s eyes. He looked evil. The reddish-orange glow of the fire behind him, the rotten smells filling her nostrils, the reflected flashes of light in his eyes – it sent a shudder up her spine. It no longer looked as if he were losing his mind; instead, the extreme anger and sorrow seemed to have reinvigorated him. He looked focused on a new purpose.
“Callie, follow me. Help me collect everyone. We’re going to consolidate and reorganize, redistribute ammo, and figure out our next move. We need to keep moving.”
“Are you sure?” said Callie.
“Please, do what I ask. We’ll talk about all this soon, but now is definitely not the time. You and I and anyone else who’s still alive need to make it through this shit-show before we figure out our next move.”
Twelve seconds. Twelve fucking seconds, that’s all it took. He’s back after less than a minute.
“You got it.”
“Good. Now please get on my ass and pull security to our six while we look for people who aren’t dead.”
“Understood,” said Callie.
“Remember, they could be… whatever the hell they are when they decide they want to kill us.”
“Yeah,” said Callie.
I think I know a little bit about that now.
She thought back to the massacre in the aid station. She could not erase the gruesome image of the naked, soiled man wildly flailing a light machine gun. The salty, metallic taste of blood and sweat streaming into her eyes and mouth didn’t help.
I feel so disgusting. I can’t believe people do this for a living. None of it makes any sense. What if I swallowed that dude’s blood and he had herpes? Wait, why the fuck am I thinking about herpes?
Trent quickly raised to his feet, his carbine at the ready. It had taken him a total of thirty seconds to re-focus after the helicopter crash. He scanned all around. “Callie, we’re out in the open. This is not a great spot. Let’s move back toward Mike and Harrison. They may be able to help us gather a better group so we can keep moving.”
What the hell?
“Trent, what do you mean, ‘keep moving?’ Move to where?”
“Not sure yet. But if we stay still, we die. We need to keep moving. Just trust me.”
“Roger.”
Look at me, already starting to sound like Sam.
Callie and Trent began moving quickly back toward Harrison and Sergeant Martin. The scene remained chaotic, though at the moment there seemed to be a lull. Nothing was for certain, however; the corrupted soldiers had initially sprung up in a matter of hours.
Trent slowed down as they approached the row of humvees near the main battery entrance and adjacent shipping containers. He thrust his non-firing hand in the air with his fingers extended and joined, the signal for Callie to stop behind him.
“What is it?” asked Callie.
“I hear something over by that tent behind the containers.”
They ran to the shipping container at the end of the row and peeked around the side.
Thank god.
A wave of relief washed over Callie. It was Sergeant Martin talking to a group of other uniformed individuals by the TOC.
“Sergeant Martin!” Trent yelled.
“Captain Hughes!”
Callie and Trent jogged toward the TOC and S2 shop. Most of the people running around in the aftermath of the recent chaos were scattered and undirected. Sergeant Major Earle and all the other healthy NCOs were doing their best to consolidate the troops and reorganize security. One of the soldiers standing near Sergeant Martin and Specialist Harrison took notice of the voices running toward them.
“Dude, I think some of those other guys know you too,” said Callie. “I think they’re saying something and waving their hands at us.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Trent. “Let’s go see what else the cat dragged in.”
“Trent Hughes?!” yelled Jack Rugerman from the darkness.
“Jack?”
How small IS the Army?
“Hughes, another one?” said Callie. “How many people here do you know?”
“I have no idea. Let’s head over.”
Callie and Trent ran over to Jack, Karl and the group of soldiers trickling in, looking for leadership. Jack and Trent had been classmates at West Point. They had met as plebes in a mandatory math class called ‘Discrete Dynamical Systems,’ which they had both been failing. This joint frustration led to a friendship they had maintained through the years. After graduation in 2004 they both went to Fort Benning, Georgia, where they attended the same Infantry Officer’s Basic Course (IOBC) and Ranger School classes. Shortly after Ranger School, they were sent to different units, and eventually Jack left the Infantry entirely to become a Military Intelligence officer. In between all the major life events they shared together were gallons and gallons of Jameson Irish whiskey, and many nights of the blind-leading-the-blind in cities all over the world. They were two overgrown children faking that they had their shit together. Neither could have asked for a better companion through the process.
“Jack!”
“Trent!”
They ran up and hugged, still not believing their good fortune of having a close friend around to endure something so shitty.
Callie moved behind Trent. “Dude, hold up!”
What the fuck, all of a sudden I don’t exist? Why do they look like they’re in an airport scene of a romantic comedy movie? “Baby, I couldn’t take the job in Minneapolis. I just love you too damn much.” Ugh.
Trent wasted no time. “Jack, what the fuck man? Tell me you know something.”
“Hold on, look who else is here.” Jack gestured toward Karl.
“Fuckin’ Karl too? Awesome!”
This is so goddamn weird. Did he forget Jessica’s body is burning to a crisp right now?
Trent refocused. “Guys, what the fuck is going on?”
“Hughes, I’m pretty sure if I told you everything you’d look at me like there was cock and balls growing out of my forehead,” said Jack.
“Wouldn’t that be awesome?” said Karl. “I would totally want a head-dick!”
“Dude, shut up. You’re like the biggest dickhead I know already,” said Trent.
“It would totally step up my cunnilingis game.”
Holy shit, these are the people with whom Americans entrust their safety?
“OK, OK. Now what the fuck is going on?” said Trent.
“Well, as you can see, this entire situation deteriorated into a complete shit-show,” said Jack. “Common sense is telling me that there’s a correlation between that thing over the city and the people that have been going ape-shit around here.”
“Wow, it’s good to see our intel arm has been pulling its weight around here,” said Trent, sarcastically. “Did you guys collect and synthesize that data all by yourselves?”
“Fuck you, man!”
“Said the man who implied clouds are making people kill each other,” said Trent.
“You want to listen or you want to break balls?” said Jack.
“Fine, fine. What’s up? Give it to me.”
“Totally ignoring the fact that I’ve broken about 99 operational security regulations in the last twelve hours, here it is. That… thing above the city is -”
The flap to the S2 tent opened. Colonel McColgan emerged, Ronak in tow.
Trent’s face went stark white. “Down in front!” He threw Jack to the ground, raised his carbine and flicked the selector lever with his thumb.
Oh my God, what the fuck is that?
Karl rushed Trent, grabbed the barrel of his weapon and pushed it toward the sky.
BANG!
Karl tackled Trent, throwing his weight on top of him. “Hughes, stop!”
“Trent, it’s cool!” yelled Jack. “Relax!”
Holy shit.
Callie froze. She had no idea what to do. Inexplicably aggressive humans were one thing, but this was simply shocking to witness. She dropped to the ground and covered her head with her arms for protection.
Trent finally settled down enough to realize what Jack and Karl were saying. Karl, meanwhile, had mounted Trent, placing all his weight on Trent’s chest and shoulders.
“What the fuck, man?” asked Trent.
“Dude, it’s OK. He’s with us,” said Karl.
“What?”
“Yeah man, fucking chill!” said Jack.
This just keeps getting better!