Beyond Armageddon: Book 02 - Empire (32 page)

The radio conversation ended. Nina looked at Odin and commanded, “Silent security.”

Odin trotted off.

           
“It’s okay. Go back to bed,” Nina said to Denise and added a quick but not-so-convincing smile.

           
Denise hurried to ask, “What’s a pinball?”

           
“It’s a special piece of, well, of equipment that we use against Shadows when they pop up. It causes them to, um, sort of break apart, I think. Now I need to get some more sleep, I’ve been going full speed the last couple of days. Good night.”

           
Nina turned around. She stopped when a new noise reached in from outside: A
swooshing
sound, as if a large object waved through the air; like a gigantic club or baseball bat hitting nothing.

           
Denise stood perfectly still. Any sense of security drained away. Once again, she felt like a little girl hiding under a porch watching a policeman pulled into the air by a tentacle, or crouching in the back seat of an abandoned mini van while a furry crocodile swallowed one of her schoolmates whole.

           
Nina pivoted around to Denise and saw those terrified eyes. The soldier stared at the girl for several long seconds, obviously unsure how to act. But then something clicked home. Some internal circuit breaker connecting a wire between her mind and her heart.
           

She crossed the hall into Denise’s room and closed the door behind them.

           
“Hey, hey,” Nina said softly. “It’s okay. We’re safe here.”

           
Denise squeezed in tight against Nina, as if trying to hide inside the strong woman’s arms. The two slid to the floor, propped up beneath a window.

           
That swooshing sounded once more, followed by something howling, maybe one of the few remaining Sloths. Still far away, but scary nonetheless.

           
Nina gave the kid a firm hug. Denise’s trembling slowed and, despite the occasional buzz and swoosh from outside, the little girl felt safe enough to fall asleep again.

–

           
“General Stonewall, Sir,” Kristy Kaufman entered the command tent.

“Yes,
Captain?”

           
Stonewall sat at a foldable table. In front of him lay several slices of barely toasted bread and two sunny side up eggs, both half-eaten. An oil lamp lit the small room in a soft glow. A hint of frost escaped their mouths with every word.

           
“Latest report on enemy movements from reconnaissance.”

           
“Oh, please, do tell, Captain. Pardon my manners; care for some breakfast? I could have more eggs delivered.”

           
“No thank you, Sir.”

           
“Well then, you read and I shall eat,” with that, Garrett Stonewall McAllister returned to devouring his morning meal.

           
“Reconnaissance reports that several smaller enemy formations have regrouped in
Parkersburg
north of
Bladen
Lakes
State
Forest
. They believe an additional group has formed in Kerr, west of the forest. Both those groups have made contact with enemy convoys and are now receiving supplies and fuel.”

           
“I see.”

           
“The Hivvan forces that had been in
Clinton
took heavy casualties and pulled out heading south. Their intentions are unknown. Additional smaller groups are beginning to regroup in areas both northwest and west of
Bladen
Lakes
.”

           
“You don’t say. Well, it seems our General Shepherd has a clairvoyance surpassing my own. That is difficult to admit.”

           
“But he’s not going to get to
Conway
before you get to Dillon, Sir.”

           
“Oh? And what is the reason behind such a brass prediction?”

           
Kristy explained, “1st Mech is held up west of
Wilmington
. They’ve been stuck there for three or four days now.”

           
“Interesting,” Stonewall set his fork aside and considered. “Let me guess, a field of Hivvan snapmines? Those blasted contraptions certainly delayed
our
advance, and electrified a few of our boys, too. Nasty way to die.”

           
“No, Sir, they—”

           
“The Screamers, then. If the Hivvans chose to strafe our lines, they certainly spent time annoying General Shepherd, too. Still, not much of a delay. I doubt it would account for his current predicament.”

           
“Not Screamers either, General. It seems—”

           
“Well of course then, he is facing the same supply difficulties as ourselves. That is, certainly, the reason for his—”

           
“General, perhaps you should return to breakfast and allow me to complete my report?”

           
Stonewall opened his mouth, paused, and then retrieved his fork and used it to fill that mouth with another bite.

Kristy told him, “Rumor has it there’s a town of people who won’t allow 1
^st
Mech to go through. It seems that if General Shepherd is to move forward, he’s going to face a village full of people who will resist his passage.”

“Oh,” Stonewall considered that. “Oh, indeed. Yes, that is a remarkable development.”

“I don’t understand it myself, General. If this is true…”

“If true,” General Stonewall McAllister pushed aside his breakfast plate, retrieved his hat, and stood. “It creates a rather difficult—and I should say ‘interesting’—situation. Well, Captain, thank you for your report. Prepare the men for departure; I hope to make good time today.”

“General, may I inquire where you are going?”

“Just a morning walk to inspect the ground ahead.”

He moved around Kristy and exited out into the chilled air of pre-dawn darkness. The General strolled among the tents of his temporary camp in the parking lot of a convenience store. Soldiers rolled sleeping bags, others cooked over open fires, one tried on boot after boot in search of something that fit best.

Stonewall climbed a short rise and stood on the pavement of I-95. Far off to the east an orange glow mustered on the horizon as a new day prepared to arrive. Those first sunbeams provided just enough light for him to read a road sign in the distance.

SOUTH CAROLINA
20 mi.

I wonder how much has changed since my last farewell?

Another interesting question.

–

           
The scratch came at the door again. However, this time Odin scratched at the wrong door. Still, Nina heard him.

           
She moved and that woke Denise. The little girl rolled over onto the floor in a ball.

           
Nina rose to her feet with a crack in her back, the price for sleeping in a sitting position against a hard wall.

           
The Captain opened the door and saw Odin across the hall. The dog whined. While Nina could not communicate with K9s, she certainly knew when her friend tried to warn her of danger.

           
Two minutes later
Captain
Forest
—dressed in a black and gray tactical outfit—stood downstairs at the main entrance. Denise had tried to follow but Nina forced her to stay behind with Odin ordered to ‘protect’ the girl.

 
“It’s up on
North 23
^rd
street
,” a burly Hunter-Killer Century Commander reported as he and Nina exited the building. “My K9s are giving it shit but they won’t last long.”

“Yeah, well, neither will we if we don’t get that pinball.”

A noise—that electronic, buzzing sound—echoed over the rooftops.

The Commander said, “Damn thing is pretty active. Why didn’t we see it before?”

Another soldier stood by a Humvee parked at the curb. He wore the typical black BDUs of the Hunter-Killers but carried a heavy knapsack and Nina saw the back of his Humvee packed with crates. She knew him to be a heavy weapons ‘Specialist” assigned to one of the K9 Legions.

“Captain,” the Specialist called. “We’re expecting the pinball some time this morning. It’s coming down from
Raleigh
in a convoy.”

Nina told the two men, “I was hoping to hunker down until we got that pinball, but it’s too active to ignore, now. Besides, we have to show the survivors around here that we can handle things like Shadows.”

“What did we do to get this thing in our shit?” The Commander asked. “Kill off all its food? Is it running around now because it’s hungry?”

 
“They don’t eat,” Nina explained as she sat in the shotgun seat after the Commander jumped in the back. “Not as far as we know. I think it’s just pissed off because we’re around.”

“Guess they just don’t like people,” the Specialist, moving behind the wheel, said.

As the vehicle pulled away Nina asked, “Who does?”

The Humvee headed north beneath a sky just starting to turn blue and with long shadows stretching across the pavement in the low sun.

K9s in groups of three appeared on the sidewalks and side streets every few blocks, sniffing the air and searching for hiding hostiles. The pacification of
Wilmington
had reached the point that the dogs were set loose on their own to hunt down stragglers. If they found a big problem, they barked for help.

A Shadow is a big problem.

As they wove through the business district, Nina saw the leftovers from the Shadow’s nighttime visit. Buildings, cars, fences, trees: pieces of each had simply been removed. It was as if they were drawings and something had walked down the street swinging an eraser.

If a key support was erased then, yes, the level above might fall as had happened to one office building. Otherwise the chunk was simply gone, surgically removed leaving behind a hole with perfectly smooth edges: a sedan missing everything between the hood and the trunk; a fast food restaurant split in half as if it were some kind of play set for a giant child; an overpass neatly cut in two pieces.

Nina heard the swoosh and crackle of the creature wreaking devastation.

           
“All heavy teams report to
North 23
^rd
street
,” Nina radioed. “We’re going to need rockets. A lot of heavy stuff.”

           
They turned left and drove through a smashed gate leading on to the grounds of ‘EUE/Screen Gems Studios.’
 
This large compound was one of the reasons why, in the old world,
Wilmington
became known as the
Hollywood
of the East.

           
Several rows of long and tall featureless buildings comprised the studio grounds with paved lots and roadways between.

           
As they drove onto the front lot, the Shadow appeared in the hazy early morning light.

           
It did not look real; more like a bad special effect from a 1950s science fiction flick. A tall and lanky creature standing nearly seven stories tall, the Shadow resembled a stick figure man but blurry and with smooth edges and no discernable hands or feet. Indeed, it did not appear to touch the ground, walking on some invisible cushion.

           
No features—no eyes, no ears—no appendages other than two arms and two legs. Nothing but black. In fact, it resembled less a creature and more a walking void cut from the fabric of reality.

           
Whatever the Shadow touched, it annihilated. That is to say, matter disappeared. Vanished as if it never existed.

           
As it moved, it ‘swooshed’ its arms back and forth. Sometimes it walked straight though buildings. Walls and windows, metal and rock, anything it touched disintegrated.

           
This Shadow moved out from behind a tall, warehouse-like studio building. In front of it scrambled a pack of K9s, mostly Rottweilers. They could not actually fight this monster. Instead, they barked and snapped in an attempt to delay or confuse it but no one could be sure that a Shadow had sentience enough to be delayed or confused.
 

Nina’s crew stopped a hundred yards from the monster on the open pavement of the front parking lot. She spoke into her radio, “All units we have sighted the target on the grounds of the Screen Gem Studios. We need immediate assistance.”

           
That electronic, static noise buzzed everywhere. Nina felt the hair on her arms and neck stand straight.

           
One of the Shadow’s long, featureless arms swooshed at the pack of Grenadiers. It passed through the front half of a Rottweiler with no resistance, as easily as waving in air. The head, neck, shoulders and front paws of the dog disappeared with no trace. Messy innards from the lifeless back half oozed out as the remains plopped to the pavement.