Radiophobia: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 3) Page 9

  The short, balding colonel ignored him, turning instead to a younger officer who rushed up with an earnest red face and saluted. “Col. Munger, troops are ready to move out.”

  Munger said, “It’s a go for the Third and Fourth platoons. Hold back Sgt. Kleinmann as a reserve and get the rest of the unit ready to roll on my command.”

  “Yes, sir,” the younger officer said.

  “Any radio contact from Antonelli?”

  Franklin perked up at the mention of the Marine captain, glancing at K.C. beside him. “Antonelli’s here?” he interrupted.

  Neither officer acknowledged him. Instead, the younger one said to Col. Munger, “No, sir. The pilot will be taking off soon to rendezvous at the drop site.”

  “That damned pillar of light’s still there, so I’ll have to assume he failed. Tell the pilot to follow the captain’s orders and shoot his missiles. What’s he packing?”

  “Four Hellfires, sir.”

  “If that doesn’t do the job, then this is bigger than any of us.”

  “Guess you’re not praying hard enough,” Franklin said, more to get Munger’s attention than to provoke him.

  “Dismissed,” the colonel said, snapping off a crisp salute that sent the young officer scurrying away. He turned his full wrath on Franklin, thrusting out his chest so that he was leading with his medals. “I know your type. Draft dodger, liberal protester, smartass who thinks the dirty work of freedom is above him. And at the same time, you spout off about individual liberties and your precious personal rights that others died to secure.”

  Munger appraised K.C. for the first time, as if wondering why any woman in her right mind would travel with a scruffy, overweight old fool like Franklin. “I don’t have time for this,” he continued. “We’re advancing on that city and we’re going to engage the enemy on their own terms.”

  Franklin’s upper lip curled into a sneer, but something about K.C.’s expression must have mollified the amped-up colonel. He let out a heavy sigh of exasperation and said, “Okay. I’ll give you one minute. Your friends—”

  “Rachel and DeVontay,” Franklin said. “She’s my granddaughter.”

  “They were captured by Zaps and taken to Wilkesboro, but they escaped. They claim a Zap helped them. They had a little girl with them. I ordered them back to the city with Antonelli, figuring they knew enough to help us destroy that plasma thing. It seems to be some kind of central energy source that powers their weapons, those metal birds, and mentally unifies them somehow—bizarre psychic bullshit, as if things couldn’t get any weirder. They choppered in and were supposed to maintain radio contact. The plasma thing’s still there and looks to be getting bigger, so we’re operating on the assumption that they’ve failed.”

  As Franklin tried to assimilate all the information, K.C. said, “You sent a little girl in there?”

  “It was for morale. Keep them together, give them more reason to—”

  “You’re an asshole. I don’t care how desperate this war is, that’s just sick.”

  “Look, lady, under Directive Seventeen, all of us are disposable. I have my orders and I’m going to do whatever it takes to capture that city. I don’t care if all of us go down, by the end of the night, that place is going to be a Zap-free zone, even if we have to burn it to the ground.”

  The colonel looked past them and shouted at a couple of soldiers stowing away a heavy-caliber machine gun. K.C. fumed but the colonel had already moved on to bigger problems.

  Franklin wasn’t done with him, though. “How did Capt. Antonelli get here? And what about the rest of the people in the bunker?”

  “My understanding is that Zap living inside the bunker killed a bunch of our soldiers. And now it’s in Wilkesboro.”

  “Kokona?”

  “Yeah. The little freak baby and that teenage girl that was taking care of it. I should’ve had your friends executed just for harboring the enemy. So if they die in battle, then it’s kind of like divine justice.”

  Franklin had long distrusted Kokona, but he’d never expected that depth of betrayal. The baby might cost him Rachel and the others—he should’ve killed it while he had the chance.

  A Humvee rolled between the swarming soldiers and squealed to a stop beside Col. Munger. “You two are officially recruited,” he said. “I heard what you did at the bunker, Wheeler. How you saved Antonelli’s men when the birds attacked. I know you’ll fight for what’s right.”

  Franklin nodded at K.C. “She can shoot, too.”

  Munger pointed past them to a sergeant who was urging a group of people in civilian clothing into the back of a cloth-covered transport truck. All of them were armed, a bedraggled militia that included a few teenagers as well as some men even older than Franklin. The last stand of the human race didn’t appear to have high entry standards.

  I’ll fit right in.

  “See Sgt. Kleinmann and get your orders,” Munger said, climbing into the Humvee’s passenger seat. “Welcome to the war.”

  As Franklin and K.C. navigated through the hectic bustle of preparations, K.C. said, “So we’re sticking it out?”

  “If they’re in the city where that”—he waved at the stream of light that dominated the darkening skyline—“shitstorm is, we’re probably better off going in with guns blazing.”

  “The Franklin I know doesn’t follow orders just because the government gives them.”

  “Maybe you don’t know this Franklin. I’ll do a lot of things to get Rachel back.”

  She hooked one arm under his and bumped against him. “I’m with you all the way, mister.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted that kind of added responsibility, but he couldn’t deny that her company was invigorating and even inspiring. “Famous last words.”

  “Well, we’ll die like legends, at least. One of the all-time great Doomsday love stories.”

  “Too bad there won’t be anybody around to write folk songs about it.” Franklin glanced at Princess, who was tethered to tree and working over a clump of weeds, oblivious to the activity around her. “I’ll catch up to you in a second. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  He left her to join the edge of Sgt. Kleinmann’s militia unit, the non-commissioned officer shifting between stern commands and gentle cajoling as he organized his several dozen ragtag civilians into a group whose lives would depend on one another’s bravery and skill.

  Franklin strode over to Princess and patted her tenderly on the neck. The horse tossed her mane and snorted in pleasure, a few strands of wiry grass hanging from her mouth.

  “We’ve put in a few miles together, sweetie,” he whispered in her ear. “But it’s the end of the road.”

  He untied the leather strap from the tree and then removed the entire harness. He couldn’t leave her tied up where she’d be vulnerable to predators, and he doubted he’d ever be back here at the rest area along the highway. He hoped she would be able to take care of herself, but so far she’d managed five years more than most of the rest of the world.

  “Take care of yourself, Princess. Live free for the both of us.”

  He gave her neck a final stroke and turned away as if embarrassed the horse might see his dewy eyes. She was smarter than most people he’d known, so he probably hadn’t fooled her one bit. But unlike people, she was respectful enough to keep her opinions to herself.

  When he looked back, she was still by the tree, head dipped back into the roadside weeds. K.C. had already introduced them both to the sergeant, so Kleinmann wasted no time in welcoming his new recruits.

  “Do you know how to use those weapons?” he asked.

  “I’ve been killing since you were in diapers,” Franklin said, although he’d never killed anyone before the apocalypse forced it upon him.

  The sergeant, who was built like a rugby player but sported an angelic face that apparently belied his toughness, grunted in approval. “Well, you’re getting the chance for a whole lot more of that. We’re in the second wave, and casualti
es are going to be heavy. You know anything about Zaps?”

  “They’ve got glow-in-the-dark eyes and they’ll pluck off your arms and legs like daisy petals,” K.C. said.

  “Their suits are impervious to bullets. Made of some kind of metal threads, so you’ll have to shoot them in the head.”

  “Not a problem,” Franklin said. “We’ve got people in there, so we’re motivated.”

  Kleinmann boosted a middle-aged woman into the back of the transport truck, shouted at another woman to hurry up, and then turned back to Franklin. “The advance mission on the helicopter? The half-Zap and those guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll save them if they’re really on our side. But don’t compromise our mission because of them. You’re in the army now. Earth Zero Initiative. We’re fighting for the whole human race, not just the people we love.”

  K.C. took Franklin’s hand and gave it a squeeze, a gesture which the sergeant didn’t let pass unnoticed. He motioned them to climb into the crowded truck bed. “All aboard. Next stop is the end of the world.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Rachel wandered off, the group spent a few minutes looking for her, yelling down the maze of storm sewers.

  Antonelli wasn’t sure how important she was to the mission, but the little girl seemed distressed over her loss. DeVontay was visibly shaken, too, but he put on a calm face for the kid’s benefit. Antonelli was second-guessing his decision to bring the girl along, but it was too late to turn back now and she was still a bargaining chip that might be useful in a critical situation.

  “She probably joined the Zaps,” Millwood said. “I mean, those eyes…who could trust them?”

  “I can,” DeVontay said.

  “Hey, Brother, I’m cool with the whole ‘colorblind love’ thing, but honeying up with a mutant? Aren’t you afraid of catching some weird disease?”

  “We’re all lizards on the inside, right?”

  Antonelli didn’t want any more conflict. Millwood was a space cadet, but he claimed to have a way to get close to the plasma sink. Bright Eyes stood to the side, his smooth, dirty face as impassive as ever. The girl seemed to gravitate to the Zap, perhaps soothed by his even, steady demeanor. Antonelli was strangely irritated—couldn’t the child see that Zaps were the problem with this world? That they were the mortal enemy?

  “All right, let’s move out,” Antonelli said. “Maybe we’ll find her up ahead. We should reach the target soon.”

  “I could see it from the grate,” Colleen said. “Probably less than a quarter mile away. Sun’s going down, though. I don’t know if that helps or hurts us.”

  Millwood collected his lamp, casting a last wary look at DeVontay, and headed into the darkness, the lamp casting a sickly yellowish glow around him. “Right this way,” he called, with all the oratory zeal of a carnival barker.

  “Just like that?” DeVontay said to Antonelli. “You’re giving up on her?”

  “I’ve got orders. We all knew the risks.”

  “But we need her. She knows more about the Zaps than any of us, even Bright Eyes. And if Kokona’s really taken control of the Zaps, Rachel’s probably the only one who can negotiate with her.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Colleen said. “It’s genocide. Only this time, we’re the ones doing the exterminating.”

  “Once we fulfill our duty, we’ll find her,” Antonelli lied. He might need an extra gun if they ran into trouble, even if DeVontay didn’t look much like the battle-tested type, so he placated the man as best he could. Antonelli fell in behind Millwood, who was whistling an off-key tune that reverberated along the concrete corridor.

  DeVontay reluctantly followed him, and then came the Zap and the girl, with Colleen again bringing up the rear. Part of Antonelli understood DeVontay’s reaction—he would’ve felt the same way if Colleen were lost. But he hoped his response would still be the same: get the job done.

  Antonelli soon last track of time as the tunnel grew so wide he couldn’t touch it with his arms spread wide. There were many more conduits, cables, and water mains in this section, and the standing water was now three or four inches deep. His boots were soaked and the dampness was slowly making its way up the legs of his trousers. When he looked back, the Zap had lifted the child and was carrying her, his eyes casting their fiery gaze.

  Millwood stopped at a set of crumbling concrete steps. “Here we are.”

  As the others gathered around the lamp, Antonelli said, “Where’s ‘here’?”

  “Loading ramp for the mothership.”

  When the hippie stopped talking, Antonelli could make out a rumbling, churning noise, and above that, a faint, high-pitched keening. At the top of the steps was a dented metal door with what looked like a security panel beside it. “So, what can I expect?” Antonelli asked Millwood.

  “You open the door and there’s like a recessed trench that goes maybe twenty yards, running along the side of a building. There are some basement windows, but I’ve never seen any Zaps in there. You’ll see some of those domes—which I guess are some kind of loading pods for the spaceships. I’ve never been in one.”

  “I have,” DeVontay said. “They’re just shells—kind of like safety areas, where the Zap energy doesn’t penetrate.”

  “They also shield our thoughts from the others,” Bright Eyes said, and Antonelli was curious why the Zap had offered information for the first time. “We usually experience unified thoughts and simultaneously receive commands given to us by our leaders, but the domes block the transference of energy from the plasma sink.”

  “So how strong are these domes? Will they protect you from, say, high explosives like grenades and missiles?” Antonelli wasn’t quite willing to believe the Zap, but right now he had no intelligence at all. Even wrong intelligence was a start.

  “They’re made of the same alloy as our suits but are much thicker,” Bright Eyes said. “We weren’t told their purpose.”

  “The one where we were held captive was one level below the street,” DeVontay said. “For all their advanced design, the space underneath is basically whatever was there after the city was ransacked and burned.”

  “I don’t know if all of them are similar,” Bright Eyes said. “I’ve only been in two of them.”

  Colleen fished a candy bar from her pack and gave it to Squeak, who ripped the wrapper away and dug into it with childish glee. Antonelli was glad to see some human warmth from Colleen—as the unit had been massacred around her, she’d become hard and bitter from loss. Antonelli wistfully recalled the early days of their romance, during the dangerous journey from Virginia to the Blue Ridge Mountains when the biggest danger was attack by wild, deformed creatures but also plenty of days that were bucolic and leisurely.

  You can’t afford to be sentimental. At least not until the mission is over.

  But that relatively innocent phase of their relationship, however illicit, was gone for good, and all that was left was the stark reality of their mutual extinction.

  He removed the grenade launcher from his shoulders and slung his rifle in its place. Bright Eyes still had the six additional grenades in his backpack, so Antonelli would definitely need to keep him close. Alternately, he could kill the Zap now and have DeVontay carry the ammo and supplies, but the child might become hysterical.

  Antonelli would certainly kill her, too, if necessary, but that might shock even Colleen. Right now, it was easier to continue tolerating the Zap.

  “So if we managed to reach one of these domes, and assuming they’re unoccupied, they’re pretty close to the plasma sink?” he asked, not really directing the question at either DeVontay or Bright Eyes but letting them speak as they pleased.

  “Pretty close,” DeVontay said. “What’s the range on that launcher?”

  “The M32’s got an effective range of eight hundred yards,” Antonelli said. “But I need to be a lot closer than that to get a tight grouping on my blast radius. The dome might give us some protection in
case of unexpected consequences.”

  “Like in the factory when you nearly blew us all to hell?”

  Antonelli gave him a grim smirk. “I knew what I was doing. I just underestimated a little. But here we’re dealing with an energy form that we don’t understand. We might create some kind of chain reaction.”

  “You mean like a wormhole?” Millwood said with a little too much enthusiasm. “A gateway to another universe or something?”

  “No way of knowing,” Antonelli said. “We don’t really have any scientists left. And this is unknown territory, a quantum leap of physics and biology.”

  “Worst-case scenario, the city goes up like Hiroshima,” Colleen said. “Mission accomplished.”

  “No. The worst thing is that nothing happens. I stick a dozen grenades in the sink, Anderson launches some Hellfires, Munger hits the city with everything he’s got, and the Zaps just laugh it off.”

  “Does that mean we die?” Squeak asked, in a small voice.

  They all fell silent. The tunnel was like a tomb, the only light provided by Bright Eyes and the oil lamp. Even Millwood seemed to take a moment to reflect on the fate of his soul.

  “If we die, it’s because we’re fighting for something worth dying for,” Antonelli said, knowing the kid probably had a different perspective on the world. Even though she’d spent most of her young life in a post-apocalyptic land ruled by mutants and populated with monsters, and even though she’d lost her family, she still retained an innocence that seemed immune to her troubles.

  Isn’t that part of what you’re fighting and dying for? To make things the way they used to be?

  But Antonelli couldn’t answer that question. Duty and regret and despair had galvanized into a cold fury inside him, and he’d long ago embraced a nihilistic view of their situation.