Strike (26 page)

Kent and Tori both pulled out their small devices. They looked like miniature iPhones.

“They work like walkie-talkies,” Brock explained. “Don’t mess with the frequency because you’re locked in with Sokol and his team. You won’t get voice, only text.”

“So they’re more like walkie-texties,” Kent said.

“Texting doesn’t need as much power,” Brock said. “Harder to track, too. When Sokol’s team has the command center secured, they’ll let you know. Hopefully that will be in about . . .” he checked his watch “. . . three and a half hours. Man, it’s getting close.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” Kent said.

“I understand your mother is being held at the camp,” Brock said to me.

“That’s my mission,” I said. “I’m going to get her out.”

“
Our
mission,” Tori corrected.

“Once you get inside the base, try to find the Sounders you’ve already met. They might be able to help.”

“We will,” I said.

“Good. Nothing left to say but good luck,” Brock said. “And thank you.”

“No, thank
you
,” Tori said. “What the Sounders are doing is amazing.”

“It isn’t amazing,” Brock said. “It’s right.”

Tori gave me a quick look that I didn’t return.

“Let’s go!” Granger shouted from a jeep that screamed up and stopped next to us.

The three of us hopped in back and the driver took off, leaving Brock in the camp to wait for the news of whether or not we had stopped the invasion. It must have made him crazy to be watching from the sideline.

We bounced over the bumpy dirt roads that had been created just for the camp, racing alongside several other jeeps that were headed for the same place: the wide-open field where the SYLO helicopters were parked. When we emerged from the trees into the clearing, the sight made me catch my breath.

“Uh . . . wow,” was all Kent managed to say.

There had to be a hundred choppers scattered all over the field. Some were large transport helicopters, but there were plenty of smaller attack craft armed with missiles and heavy-duty guns. Rotors were already spinning on many of them. Others were just powering up. The combined sound was steadily growing into a deafening din of white noise.

Hundreds of SYLO soldiers scrambled across the field, headed for the various craft. Every last one was outfitted with body armor and carried an automatic weapon.

It was an impressive spectacle that gave me hope they might actually have a shot at taking over the dome.

But only if the attack planes were knocked out.

The driver brought us to one of the larger choppers and stopped just beyond the limit of the whirling rotors. Granger jumped out without a word, ducked low, and headed for the craft. The three of us followed right behind.

Jumping on board we saw that there were already a few dozen soldiers strapped into seats that lined the sides of the fuselage, facing center. The moment they saw us, the entire group applauded and cheered. It was totally unexpected, for as far as I knew the only people who knew about us were Granger and President Neff. I actually got a little choked up. Of course, Kent waved his arms in the air, eating it up. There were three empty seats waiting for us in the rear. As we made our way to them, we were repeatedly clapped on the back by the appreciative soldiers.

I found a seat, strapped in, and put on my headphones.

The soldier next to me held up his fist for a bump.

“I’m going to tell my kids I flew in with you,” he said.

These guys really thought we were heroes. It was a strange sensation, though the overriding thought I had was I didn’t care what he told his kids just as long as he got the chance to see them again.

Granger stood up in front to face the team.

“We’ll land five klicks outside the border of the camp,” he said through the intercom, which also carried his voice to the rest of the attack force. “I want wheels on the ground for no more than forty-five seconds. Get out fast, hit the deck, and keep your eyes on the camp.”

My stomach flipped. These were professional soldiers. They had probably trained for this very mission. I hoped we wouldn’t get in their way.

“We will stay there until I give the command to begin the assault. I chose the go-word moments ago and passed it on to the company commanders. Until you get that word, from me, you stay put with your eyes on the camp. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” the entire group replied as one.

“All right,” Granger said. “The go-word is . . . strike. Strike. What’s the word?”

“Strike!” the entire group called out in unison.

“That’s it,” Granger shouted. “We’re on. Let’s go get ’em!”

The entire squad answered with “Hoo-rah!”

The rotors whined.

Granger buckled in behind the pilots.

The chopper shuddered and we lifted off of the island, headed one last time into the Nevada desert.

I craned my neck to look out the window and caught an awesome sight. Dozens of other choppers were lifting off at the exact same time. We rose into the air for several seconds and hovered there. With a quick wave from Granger to the pilot, our chopper shot forward. From the window I saw several different types of helicopters flying alongside us in a loose formation. It was a formidable-looking attack force that was on its way into battle . . . based solely on our word.

I hoped we weren’t going to be responsible for their annihilation.

The trip took a lot longer than I expected. We had flown between the Retro base in the Mojave and Catalina Island three times. Each time it had taken about an hour. When we hit the hour mark on this trip, we were still under full throttle. I kept checking my watch, expecting to hear that we would be landing at any moment. We didn’t. I was getting antsy. Was something wrong? Did the Retros know we were coming? Time was moving, fast. I was getting nauseous, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of nerves, or because we had been bouncing around inside of that tin can for too long.

I kept looking out of the window to try to see the other helicopters. That only made me more nauseous.

Finally, when we approached the two-hour mark, Granger made an announcement.

“We’ve been circling for nearly an hour,” he said. “We’re being cautious about inserting the teams, landing one at a time. The last thing we need is for someone to spot us from the base. We’re the next and last ones in.”

My nauseous stomach twisted as my anxiety level spiked. This was it. We descended, quickly. All around me the soldiers were checking their gear. I had nothing except for my pulser and there wasn’t much to check. I gave a quick look to Tori and Kent. Tori gave me a thumbs-up. Kent’s eyes were closed.

“Five seconds,” the pilot announced.

Outside I saw the light-brown surface of the Mojave rising quickly as dust kicked up all around us. I braced myself for the inevitable jolt that would hit when we touched down.

“Contact!” the pilot shouted an instant before the helicopter landed, rattling my teeth.

“Move!” Granger demanded.

With practiced precision the soldiers unlatched their straps, stood, and hurried for the door. The copilot slid the door open and the soldiers poured out. We were last, just before Granger, who was standing at the door watching his troops depart. I hesitated for a second and looked at him.

“Keep moving!” he barked.

We weren’t going to be getting any special consideration because we were untrained kids.

I jumped out of the chopper to see that the soldiers had formed a line, lying belly-down, shoulder to shoulder. I wasn’t sure of what to do so I ran along the line until I got to the last soldier and lay down next to him. Tori was right behind me and Kent did the same. The last to arrive was Granger.

Behind us, the helicopter had powered up and was lifting off before Granger had even settled in.

Looking ahead, I couldn’t see the Retro base. Not even the top of the dome. We were too far away. That was the idea. Though I did wonder how we were going to cover so much ground on foot.

That answer came seconds later. Far behind us, a huge helicopter landed. It was long, with twin rotors, front and back. A ramp dropped down from its belly and multiple troop-transport vehicles drove out, one after the other. It was like the helicopter was giving birth to a litter of trucks. When the last truck drove out the helicopter lifted off, only to be replaced by another chopper as the process was repeated.

The transport vehicles drove up behind us and each one stopped in turn, lining up next to one another much like the soldiers had done.

When the command came, this was how we would get to the base.

Within minutes, every last helicopter had departed and we were left lying in the sand with nothing to hear but the howling desert wind.

Granger had binoculars to his eyes and was focused straight ahead, no doubt looking to see if any Retros were coming out from the base to welcome us.

“Now what?” I asked.

“You tell me,” Granger said.

“Uh, what?”

“Until those drones are grounded, this is as far as we go. You let us know when we’re good.”

I looked to Tori. She pulled out her communicator and stared at the blank screen.

“They’ll tell us,” she said, sounding unsure. “Right?”

I looked at my watch.

It was four-thirty.

Ninety minutes till the boom.

M
ost of the events that played out over the next few hours I witnessed firsthand.

The rest I was told about. Piecing together the series of events that occurred was tricky. I had to make some logical, educated guesses on some of the events, but in the end I believe I have put together a full, accurate picture of all that unfolded, both good and bad. When the history books are written,
all
the history books, I can only hope that they will be as honest about what happened as I have been.

The people who put themselves on the line, and sacrificed themselves, deserve nothing less.

Five kilometers further ahead of us, and three hundred years into the future, a small group of Air Force personnel made their way along the wide street that led to the dome in the Bridge city.

They walked calmly, but with purpose. There was nothing about them that stood out from any of the other military personnel on the street. They were led by Colonel Pike. With her was a young, intense Airman named Eric Lewis. The third person in uniform was Airman First Class Olivia Kinsey. The only member of the group not in uniform was a forty-year-old civilian named Liger. He stood out from the others because he wore plain gray fatigues, as opposed to camouflage. Liger was an engineer. A nuclear engineer.

The group passed by the queue of giant black planes that were lined up along the street, waiting to make the journey into the past. None of the team showed outward interest in the attack planes, but the presence of these killing machines raised both their anxiety level and their resolve.

They could not fail.

The four turned off the street when they arrived at the vast building with the curved roof that stood next to the massive dome that held the Bridge. They walked with confidence directly up to the two armed guards who stood in front of the heavy double doors.

The guards instantly came to attention and saluted Colonel Pike.

“Good afternoon, gentleman,” Pike said.

“Is this a scheduled visit, ma’am?” one guard asked.

“Yes, but not one you would have known about,” she replied.

Pike showed the guard her tablet and the orders that allowed her access to the nuclear depot. The orders were completely authentic, except that Pike was the only one who knew about them for she was the one who created them.

The guard read the orders and the blood drained from his face.

“Now?” he asked, incredulous. “
Right
now?”

“We need to move the device in ahead of these ships,” Pike replied. “The natives are going to be in for one hell of a surprise.”

She smiled and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

The guard looked at his partner for support. He was unsure of what to do with this sudden and dramatic development.

“We don’t have much time,” Pike added, with a touch of impatience. “You don’t want to hold up the transfer of these ships.”

“No ma’am,” the second guard said. “Will you need assistance?”

“There’s a technician inside, correct?” Pike asked.

“Yes ma’am,” the first guard replied.

“Good,” Pike said and walked boldly past the two guards. “Stay at your post.”

The others kept their eyes on the ground and followed. Olivia didn’t make eye contact with anyone, fearing they might recognize her as a traitorous Sounder.

Pike used her ID card to unlock the double doors. They slid open with a mechanical whine and the team strode inside.

The depot was nothing more than a huge warehouse under a dome that was five feet thick, in case of an unfortunate accident. Lined up in two rows of five were ten white cylinders, each six feet tall and three feet in diameter. There was nothing about them that gave a clue as to their deadly power. None of them had a nose cone or fins to provide aerodynamic capability, for they were never intended to be dropped from an aircraft. These weapons were built to the exact specifications of the device that was exploded as a test on the morning of January 24, 1952. Project Alcatraz. They were duplicates of the device that created the original Bridge and were intended to be used to blast more Bridges from the past into the future.

A technician wearing gray fatigues similar to the one the engineer was wearing sat at a desk playing a video game on his pad. When he saw the team enter he immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

“Mr. Liger,” the man said, surprised. “I wasn’t aware of an inspection—”

“This is no inspection, Mr. Swenor,” Liger said. “We’re deploying.”

The technician, Swenor, looked as stunned as the guards outside.

“I . . . I had no idea. . . .”

Pike handed him the orders.

“Of course you didn’t,” she said. “Everyone has been on a need-to-know basis. Now you need to know.”

Swenor read the orders quickly, his eyes growing wider with every second.

“Los Angeles?” he said, stunned.

“The dome in Dodger Stadium is ready,” Pike said. “We will go active as soon as the eradication is complete.”

“Amazing,” he said with a mix of enthusiasm and fear.

“Let’s get number 44-044 on a pallet. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes ma’am,” Swenor replied and hurried off.

Liger looked to Pike and said, “That was the first honest thing you’ve said.”

Pike shrugged.

Minutes later a floating pallet hovered into position next to the first bomb in line, number 44-044. The device was gently lowered, still upright, onto the floating platform. Built onto the platform was a cradle designed specifically for this purpose. Once loaded, the bomb and platform hovered three feet in the air, ready to go.

“This is incredibly exciting,” Swenor said without trying to hide his glee.

“Isn’t it?” Pike replied, and took the pallet’s control device from him.

“But I should—” Swenor complained.

“These airmen will complete the transfer,” Pike said. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Swenor. Go back to your duties. I promise, you’ll remember this day and the part you played here for the rest of your life.”

“Thank you ma’am, thank you,” Swenor said with genuine excitement. He wore a proud smile as if he could already imagine his name in the history books.

Airmen Lewis was an expert with the hovering platform. With Olivia guiding it from the front, Lewis moved the heavy device carefully but quickly toward the front doors. Liger ran ahead, slid open the tall, heavy doors, and stood aside to let the monstrous weapon pass through.

The two guards outside stood back, watching in awe.

“It’s really happening,” the first guard said.

When the hovering bomb was clear of the building, the two doors slid back shut with a solid, satisfying thump.

“Good luck, ma’am,” said the second guard.

He subtly put his hand over his heart.

“As you were,” Pike ordered curtly.

The two guards returned to their post, guarding the depot against all intruders.

With two hundred yards to the dome, it was impossible for anyone on the street not to notice the hovering device as it was being moved along. Most knew what it was and watched with stunned wonder. Several applauded. They knew what it meant if one of these devices was being sent to the Bridge. At least they thought they knew. To them, it signified that the next phase of their invasion and colonization was underway. They had heard the plans and this was further proof that it was all coming true.

They cheered. Joy had finally come to the Bridge city. To 2324. The transfer had turned into a glorious parade to send a hero off to war. If there had been a marching band along the route, it would have struck up a patriotic song.

The Sounder team kept their heads down and moved quickly.

The attention was not welcome but it provided the Sounders with an unexpected bonus. With all eyes on the slowly moving procession, the cheering crowds didn’t notice that several armed soldiers were slowly filtering into the area. With no fanfare or fuss they silently took up positions near the dome.

They waited in doorways.

They melted in with the crowd.

They hung behind the waiting aircraft.

Armored cars slipped into position on side streets.

The Sounders had arrived and they were ready.

While most of the eyes on the street were focused on the floating device, another team of Air Force personnel approached the security checkpoint at the dome.

There were ten in all, each armed for battle with vests, helmets, and heavy-duty pulsers.

When the security guard saw them, his eyes lit up.

“It’s beginning, isn’t it?” he asked.

The leader of the squad, Captain Kenny Sokol, handed the guard a pad with his orders.

“Just a precaution,” Sokol said. “There are a lot of natives in that camp. Bova asked for additional security in case there was trouble when these ships start coming through.”

“Smart,” the security guard said. “I sure wouldn’t mess with you guys.”

Sokol took back his orders and gave the security guard a friendly pat on the arm.

“You’re a wise man,” he said and strode for the dome, followed by his dangerous-looking commando team.

The security guard watched the team move past him with a mix of pride and jealousy. These were warriors.

The group marched quickly and efficiently across the last few yards of cement and walked straight into the dome.

Once inside, Sokol quickly scanned the interior for military personnel.

There were two men near the Bridge who were working to guide a pallet loaded with supplies through to the past. Sokol motioned for his team to take up positions on either side of the giant frame. He gestured for the two smaller men who came in with him to move behind a stack of crates.

He wanted them to be protected.

Sokol held one other commando back and gestured toward the men who were working in front of the Bridge. No words were spoken. They knew what they had to do. Sokol and his partner pulled out their pulsers.

The workers had no idea what was coming. As soon as the platform they were guiding slipped through the Bridge, they turned back and were knocked out by two quick pulser shots. Sokol and the other commando caught them before they hit the deck and quickly pulled them off to the side.

Their pathway to the past was clear.

Outside of the dome, Pike and her team approached the security checkpoint with the floating bomb.

The security guard could barely contain himself. First a team of commandos, and now one of the top Air Force officers, was coming through his checkpoint . . . with a nuclear weapon no less.

“Colonel Pike,” he said in awe. “I had no idea.”

Pike handed the man her orders and said, “Surprise.”

“This is going to be one of those days, isn’t it?’ he said.

“What do you mean?” Pike asked.

“This is the day our new future officially begins. Children will read about this day in history books.”

Pike thought for a moment, then said, “You have no idea how right you are.”

“Good luck, ma’am,” the guard said.

He handed back her orders and gave her a smart salute.

Pike returned the salute and said, “Thank you. We’ll need it.”

Olivia and Lewis guided the device forward. They were only a few yards from the dome.