Chapter 36- Apex Predator

Chapter 36

Apex Predator

Cavill, Virginia

Deputy Sheriff Andrew Bailey took the call, even though he was long since off duty.  His phone had been ringing for a minute or two now so he had a clue that it must have been important.

“Deputy Bailey,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too sulky and tired.

“Hey Andy, it’s Michael Cristakis here,” came the reply.

“Hey Michael.  What’s the problem?” said Andrew, weary and wondering why he was talking to the local Pizza shop guy when he should have been asleep hours ago.

“It’s probably nothing deputy.  But I had a strange phone call from Sheriff Henderson.  He called up for a pizza and then he just rang off suddenly,”

“It was probably just Shirl telling him off for blowing his diet,” replied Andrew.

“Still, it’s kind of weird and I thought I’d let you know,”

“Sure.  Are you still open?” asked Andrew.

“Yeah, we’re open for another hour,”

“Right I’m on my way over and we can talk about it,” said Andrew, pulling his boots back on.

Andrew Bailey had been a deputy sheriff now in Cavill for three years and he was generally well regarded.  He was the only full time deputy now and even he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay in Cavill.

He would regularly head off to Charlotte and other larger places.  Andrew Bailey had only recently had his thirtieth birthday and he felt like this town didn’t suit someone of his age.

On the other hand he did enjoy the small town vibe and the way people treated him with respect.  But he had earned that respect.  Cavill was all about looking one way during certain things, not taking too deep an interest in what people did behind their closed doors.  One day Andrew thought he’d have a go about writing about the various corrupt goings on in heartland America.

Andrew closed the door behind him.  Walker, his collie cross, woke up and barked at him.  Bouncing over excitedly, Walker licked at his hands.  Andrew rubbed the collie’s head and knelt down for a moment.

“We aint going out for a walk, ole boy.  I’m working now,” he whispered to the dog.  Walker wagged his tail excitedly, as if to say “Your kidding right?  I’m sure I’m coming with you,”

Andrew put his hat on and walked down the alley way to the main street of Cavill.  Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog howl.

“Poor pooch,” he said to himself.  The sound had been surprisingly eerie and Andrew Bailey was not a man who was easily scared.

Andrew walked the main street of Cavill, “Jackson” as it was referred.  Andrew shook his head and wondered how many towns like this there were in Virginia.  Whilst Andrew didn’t consider himself a “liberal”, he found the undercurrent of racism in Cavill and in the county hard to stomach.

Andrew spotted a figure in the shadows and paused briefly.  When he saw the familiar hand gesture, he felt his tension rise a little bit.  Andrew was one of the few people in town who wasn’t suspicious of Tom McVay.  However he was a veteran and meeting him late at night was a bit worrying.

“How’s it going Deputy Bailey?” asked Tom in his familiar flat tone.

“I’m good thanks Tom.  You allright?”

“Same as ever.  Cant sleep.  You workin’?” asked Tom, stepping out of the shadows.  His dark hair was mussed up as ever but his clothes were fine and clean.  Cuffs and collars were always pressed and clean.

“Yes and no.  I’m on my way to Michael’s place to grab a pizza and some info.  You want to walk with me?” asked Andrew.

“You deputizing me?” asked Tom with a wan smile.

“No, just thought you might fancy a slice?”

“I don’t know about that but I’ll walk with you,” said Tom and the two began the short walk up to the Cristakis place.

“It’s a weird night,” muttered Tom.

“Why do you say that?” asked Andrew.

“I don’t know,” replied Tom.  Tom ran his hand through his hair again.

Andrew wished he knew Tom better, so he could ask him what was wrong, so he could suggest to talk to someone about it.  But Andrew knew that part of the “country” thing was keeping your nose out of other people’s problems.

They were almost at the Cristakis place when someone called out from one of the houses.

“Deputy Andy!  Help, over here!” It was a womans voice.  Andrew Bailey turned and looked and saw Lindy Cole in her door way.

Andrew turned to Tom and put a hand on his shoulder.  “You head inside, I’ll be with you in a bit,”

“Sure thing,” replied Tom, not realizing it was the last thing he would ever say to Andrew Bailey.

Deputy Bailey walked over, a hand on his flash light at his belt.

“What’s wrong Lindy?” he asked.

“Deputy, please help me!” she said.

As Andrew Bailey got closer, he saw that there was blood on her hands.

“Jesus Lindy, what’s happened?” Deputy Bailey was stood in her doorway at this point.

Lindy Cole was a small woman of around forty, weighing no more than one hundred and twenty pounds.  She grabbed hold of Deputy Bailey in both arms and clung on.

Deputy Bailey was rocked back briefly and he tried to pull loose of her.

“Lindy, Lindy talk to me!” he said.

With her hanging on to him and her head buried into his chest, he didn’t see the figure approaching from behind her.  A man walked through the house, blood dripping from his hands and mouth.

Andrew Bailey gently pulled himself free of Lindy Cole for a second and managed to say

“Lindy….” Before he was cut off mid sentence.

A stranger grabbed him by the lapels and threw him across the kitchen.  Lindy Cole shrieked in the door way for a moment.  Andrew, who weighed nearly two hundred pounds, had sailed through the air as if he was a football.

He shook his head and looked down at the blood on his hands.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

The stranger was shaking Lindy now like a rag doll.  She wailed for a moment before there was an awful snapping sound and then she fell limply to the floor.

Andrew Bailey reached sluggishly for his pistol, a 9mm beretta.  The stranger was almost on him when he managed to pull the pistol free.  A round exploded into the ceiling as the stranger got a hand to his wrist and twisted.  Andrew’s reactions were honed and he pivoted and threw the larger man over his shoulder.

The stranger was a bloody mess, his face twisted and torn from what looked like multiple scratches and cuts.  Andrew stepped back and aimed the gun at him.  The figure got back to his feet and Andrew felt himself grow cold.

Normally he would have said stop before firing.

Across at the Cristakis pizza parlour, they heard multiple gunshots.  Tom McVay, who knew a 9mm round when he heard one, had already been stood in the door at this point.

He saw flashes of light from the Cole place.  Tom’s reactions were also honed, though to a different degree.

He ran over to Michael Cristakis and asked him a question.

“Where do you keep your gun?”

Chapter 37- Danger Close

Chapter 37

Danger Close

Satcom, Somewhere in Virginia

Captain Thomas turned quickly and reported.

“We got signs of infection in the valley now.  It looks like the operation to contain is folding,”

“You sure Captain?” asked General Petersen.

“I can’t get hold of Villa Cyranno.  There’s no reply from down there.  And units operating in the surrounding area are reporting contacts with the hostiles,”

“God damn it,” growled the General, slowly getting back to his feet.  “Lt Walker, I want you to raise Cyranno.  Find out if there is anyone left down there.  Captain Bowen, is there any aerial units we can get to do a quick flyby on the ground?”

“Yes sir, we’ve got Sabre Two in orbit.  That’s a squadron of F-22’s,”

“Raptors,” said the General with a vague smile.  The F-22 Raptor was a beautiful, if expensive, piece of technology and was state of the art battle-ware.

“Put me on with the leader,” ordered General Petersen.  As Captain Bowen got to work, General Petersen leaned over to Captain Thomas.  “What are you still doing here?  We need a team to head to Cavill, STAT,”

“Sir I thought that…” began the Captain.

“Belay that thinking.  Just get a unit armed up with flame-throwers and get out there.  If necessary we’ll bomb the village off the map,”

“Sir, that’s American soil,” replied the Captain.

“You were given an order Captain,” said the General tersely.

“General, Sabre-Two is on the line,” reported Captain Bowen.

Captain Thomas stood up, straightened his uniform and then walked out of the room. General Petersen watched him walk away, hoping that the young man was up to the job.

“This is Sabre leader here,” came a voice over the radio.

“This is Sat-Com here.  I’m broadcasting over an open channel,”

“Yes sir,” replied Sabre Leader.

“Good man.  Now I need you to get eyes on Villa Cyranno,” asked the General.

“I can do that sir.  There was an explosion a little while ago and then there hasn’t been much observable action down there,” reported Sabre Leader.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” replied General Petersen.  “Okay, give me eyes on the site.  And if we don’t get some kind of report back in the next ten minutes, I want you to knock that site off the fucking map,”

“Roger that,” came the reply.

General Petersen walked around the main desk and noticed a small metal pin lying on one of the desks.  He picked it up and examined it.  It was a Distiguished Service Cross Bar, about the size of a pair of cuff links.  Someone had taken it off their uniform.

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Once you join the military, you have to set a certain amount of common sense aside.  The air force has a lot more deep thinking than the other branches of service but on the whole it is still composed of alpha males who want to exert their dominance over whatever it is you are doing.

Being an intellectual person in that world is sure to be quite frustrating and at times, nearly unbearable.  Lt McPherson had learned to live with it in her time in the Air Force.  The occasional flare up of macho posturing was inevitable, they played an adrenaline sport and it was good that the men were confident, even if it did get quite tiring.

Hannah was willing to put her common sense to one side to be a valid and accepted part of that culture.  But right now she felt her frustration reach a boiling point.  There were only four of them still alive in the village, no telling where or who the infiltrators were and above them was a gung ho air force ready to carpet bomb them into the stone age.

And the survivors of her team were all pointing guns at each other.

“This is your last damned warning.  Put the weapon on safe and place it on the ground,” repeated Wooderson, aiming his pistol at Specialist Storm.  Storm aimed his P-90 submachine gun back at them.

“No way Sarge.  How do I know you are human anymore?” asked Storm.

“Specialist, we’ve got to signal in or the air support will bomb us,” said McPherson as calmly as she could manage.

“Yeah, well maybe that would be for the best,” replied Storm.

“What are you talking about?” asked Oscar, looking frantic.

“We don’t know who’s human anymore and the other things will have escaped away from here.  We’ve lost control.  This whole area needs to be quarterised, cleansed,”

Hannah saw a certain, nihilistic logic to it but she felt herself rebel against what he was saying.

“Storm, we need to do our job.  No one outside of the infected zone knows exactly what we’re dealing with.  If they’ve gotten out of here then we have the information that they will need to stop this thing,” reasoned McPherson.

“I’m not sure it can be stopped anymore,” muttered Storm.

“Last warning Storm,” snapped Wooderson.

“Aw just shoot me already,” replied Storm.

There was a blaze of light and a hail of gunfire.  Hannah was pushed back by Wooderson as he was thrown backwards.  She rolled to her knees and drew her pistol to aim but Storm was no longer on his feet either.  Oscar was the last man standing.

“Don’t move,” she yelled.  She moved over quickly to find Storm.  He was on his back now, two bullet holes in his chest.  She paused near him to make sure that he was human.  She then ran back to Wooderson.  A dozen rounds had chewed through his chest and waist, he had died not long after he had hit the floor.

Hannah squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, feeling the sting of tears.  She shook her head.

“Madness, pure bloody madness,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Chapter 35- Left or Right

Chapter 35

Left or Right

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

“We’ve got a small problem here,” said Jubal Storm, resting against the wall, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“What’s that?” asked Oscar, his face still wracked with pain.

“If we don’t make contact on the radio, then Sat-Com are going to bomb this village clean off the map, along with all of us,”

“Exactly.  So help me get to the radio,” replied Oscar.

“Trouble with that, we’ve been separated and now we don’t know who is who.  We don’t know how many of those things are still here, how many died and how many got away,”

Oscar spat to one side of himself again.

“So we’ve got a small problem, “ repeated Storm.

“We’ve got a way to figure all of that out.  But if we don’t do something fast, we’ll not get a chance to do anything about it at all,” said Oscar as forcefully as he could manage.

“Chung’s dead Oscar.  As far as I can see, it’s just you and me who are still moving here.  I know I’m human,” said Jubal in a commiserating tone.

Oscar looked at him, one hand on his cigarette and the other cradling his P-90 sub machinegun.  Oscar began to come to the conclusion that he was about to die.

“What’s on your mind Oscar?” asked Storm, dropping the cigarette to the floor and standing on it.

“How do I know you are human?” asked Oscar.

“You don’t.  Equally I don’t know you’re human either.  There’s only one way to be really sure.  Sorry about that,” said Storm with some sincerity in his voice. He pulled the safety on his machine gun and stood up.

There was a click and a metallic sound.  Storm span around and pointed the gun at Sergeant Wooderson who aimed a pistol back at him.  Behind Wooderson was Lt McPherson.

“Wood, you’re still alive are you?” asked Storm.

“You can see that.  No one is shooting anyone here,” stated the Sergeant.

“I think you’re wrong there Sarge.  We’ve got no way to prove who is human anymore.  I know I am,”

“So am I,” retorted Wooderson.

“Yeah well one of you things would say that wouldn’t you?”

“You are not judge, jury and executioner,” growled Wooderson.

“No I’m not.  But the way I see it, I got the biggest gun here,” replied Storm.

“Put the gun down,” repeated Wooderson.

“No way in hell,” replied Storm

Near Villa Cyranno

Two huddled figures took shelter under the scattered trees between Villa Cyranno and where the next village was.  One of them looked up into a night sky crawling with stars.

One waved a hand and the other nodded and moved forward, a steady jog.  The other one watched his companion move across the open countryside.

The first had almost reached a small wooden hut when there was a flash of light and he was thrown into the air.  An explosion had hurled him like a rag doll.  The other one dropped low and watched.

Two dark figures emerged from the hut.  They were wearing some kind of breathing apparatus and one of them hefted a flamethrower.  They approached the figure crawling across the ground.

There was a sudden flare of light and the figure who had just moments before hand been crawling for his life was engulfed in flames and burned.

The other figure, watching from the trees, began to crawl silently away, taking an easterly route.  He continued to crawl when there was another sound nearby.

He spun to look but in the darkness, there was nothing to see except the shining light of distant stars and the flicker of not so distant flames.

There was a crack and a flash of light and a bullet slammed into the prone figure where he lay.  He moaned a low terrible moan and tried to crawl, blood pouring through his fingers.

“Over here, there’s another one over here,” called a masked figure.  He threw a small red flare into the undergrowth which lit a crawling man, probably no older than twenty two.  He lay on his side breathing quickly, blood pouring from a head wound.

There was a rush and then flames covered him and the trees that had not hidden him.

“This is Two-Five, area secure,” said a voice into a radio.

“Copy that,” came the reply.

Chapter 34- Chief of Staff

Chapter 34

Chief of Staff

Washington, D.C

A uniformed army Captain walked alongside Hayden McDonald as he was escorted towards the Oval office.  Hayden had been Whitehouse Chief of Staff for two and a half years and felt a certain amount of protective pride in his Whitehouse.  He certainly didn’t like being ‘escorted’ to the Oval Office.

Especially when the President, his President, wasn’t in there.  Hayden McDonald straightened his suit jacket and tie and waited by the door.  The Captain, a dour faced gentleman, knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came the new voice in the room.  Hayden McDonald walked into the Oval office and saw that General Pierce was still holding court.  There were three other officers in the room.  Two were generals, the other was a Colonel.  But the Colonel was the only one that General Pierce was really paying any attention to.

“General, this is Hayden McDonald.  He was chief of staff to the former President,”

Announced the Captain.  General Pierce waved the Captain away with a hand.

“Hayden, take a seat.  Would you like a drink?”

Hayden stayed on his feet.  “No thank you General,”

“We’re all in the same boat here Hayden,” stated General Pierce.

“I see,” replied Hayden.

One of the other generals spoke now.  “Mr McDonald, I know you aren’t entirely happy with what’s happened.  But we in control now. This farm needs a firm hand at the teller,”

“Farms don’t have tellers General Marx,” replied Hayden McDonald.

General Pierce laughed at this.

“I know your reputation Hayden, that you were a feared ball buster in D.C.  The President's hit man?” enthused General Alex Pierce.  General Pierce had been a three star general with major promise until a few years ago.  Then he had fallen afoul of a newly elected Presidential administration.

General Pierce had orchestrated a swift and brutal coup and was now ‘de-facto President.”  However Hayden McDonald had been summoned to him which meant that he needed him for something.  The two other Generals were lickspittle allies, trying to suck up to the new chief.  Colonel Carpenter, grey eyes shining, was the real danger.

“I wouldn’t say I was his hit man,” replied Hayden.

“Indeed not.  Well, those days are over.  What you are now is a fount of information that I need to tap,” continued the General.  “You know every player in Washington and beyond,”

“I think my knowledge extends only as far as political players, General.” Said Hayden, leaving the emphasis on the word General.

“You don’t approve of what we’ve done?” asked General Pierce.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” said Hayden cooly.

“I see.  But you’ll help wont you?”

“Why?  Why would I help you?” replied Hayden.

“Becausse you believe in this Republic.  And I’m going to need your help to hold it together,” said General Pierce.

Hayden kept a poker face but he had heard the word ‘need’ in there.

“General, I’m a straight talker.  Surely you’ve heard that about me?” he began.

“I value honesty,” said General Pierce.

“I find that hard to believe.  But I will be honest with you.  The political establishment are not going to cooperate with you willingly.  I’m surprised that after this coup you’ve gotten as much support from the military as you have.  You’ve endangered not only the Republic but the entire country.  We’re in the most serious domestic situation since the Civil War and you endanger us even further like this,”

General Pierce’s face darkened.

“I see.  Well if you aren’t going to cooperate then I’ll find someone who will,”

“Theres no one around here who knows all of the players like I do, no one who has all the pressure points. Now I know you could just beat it out of me. But that’s not going to help you make a case for yourself as the savior of our Republic is it?” said Hayden.

Colonel Carpenter got to his feet.  “Excuse us for a moment General,” said the colonel.  He escorted Hayden out of the room back into his old office.

“Okay Mr McDonald, cut the bullshit.  You know we need you for something. What is it you want in return?” said the Colonel.

Hayden tried to size him up.  He was a smaller man, five feet nine or ten.  He had a wiry strength though and those intelligent eyes.  Hayden didn’t know his career but saw an airborne patch on his arm and a ranger jump school badge on his jacket.

“Colonel Carpenter, I will help you and the General sort this mess out.  But I want four things.  And I’m not negotiating with you.  I’ll have them all or you can just shoot me now,”

“No one is shooting anyone,” replied Carpenter.  “Go on, what do you need?”

“Okay, first of all I wanted Jack Krane in here.  He’s my deputy and I trust him,”

“Done.  Next?”

“I want a signed document stating that I am not a part of your coup or whatever you call it,”

“Again, that’s easy.  Next?”

“I want all non essential Whitehouse staff sent home or at least no longer held under guard.  There are a lot of young men and women here and they are terrified,”

“Okay, that’ll take some time to organize but I can do that.  What else is it you want?”

“I want a promise that I’m fairly sure will be broken,” replied Hayden McDonald.

Chapter 33- Replication

Chapter 33

Replication

Cavill, Virginia

Patterns form in the most unlikely places.  Deep within the Earth, there are mineral patterns and formations, shapes that are amazing to behold.  Within natures work there are so many incredible formations and patterns, from the scales on a tiny fish all the way to a vast cloud of starlings.

There are patterns of behavior too, passive aggressive, escape and evade and direct hostility.  There are so many routines that people get caught in, the argument that you avoid seeps into every last corner of your life, the fight you don’t want to have hisses in the corner like a snake.

There are patterns deep within the very DNA of every person, swirls of molecules that resemble tiny galaxies.  Each spark and flame that runs through the mind, connections and neurons firing away, more patterns.

In the town of Cavill, they were used to patterns too.  For instance the town “drunk” Alex Pinkley would usually finish his drinking at the “Tom Jackson” and head home at about eleven.  He’d stop off at the 7/11 on the way home and pick up a cheap bottle of something, probably a cider or a beer.  Then he’d stagger back to his ramshackle place and pass out.

Except tonight of course.  Tonight he was walking away from the 7/11 when he ran into someone he wasn’t expecting to see. 
“Shit, Robert.  You scared me to fuckin’ death,” he slurred.  His drunkenness made the word sound like ‘fuggin’ but the meaning came through.  Robert Lewis was a painter, a contractor who lived in town with his wife Anna.

“Hey Alex, I just found a huge bag of bottles been dumped out the back of Mister Percys house.  You want some of them?”

Somewhere deep in Alex’s chemical ravaged brain there was still the vaguest semblance of the bright young lad he had once been, long ago.  But the temptation was far too strong for him to resist.

“Sure, sure that sounds good to me,”  he replied.  He followed Robert Lewis back through a cramped alleyway and behind Mr Percy’s house, where the high fence obscured them from view.

“Shit,” muttered Alex as he tripped over a log.  It was too dark to see much around here.

“We’re nearly there Alex,” came the voice of Robert Lewis.

Some deep seated part of Alex’s mind fired up a warning flare.  ‘We are lost in the dark.  This doesn’t add up.’  But another part of his mind, a much more dominant part simply said ‘Free booze!”

Alex reached backyard and tried to make out where Robert had gone.

“Robert?” he asked, his voice low.

“Right here,” came the whispered reply.  Alex spun around as fast as he could and saw Robert stood right next to him.  A hand came up with incredible speed and caught him by the throat.  Alex reached up with both hands to try and prize this hand from his neck but the strength of it was incredible.

The other hand reached up to his face with horrible slowness.  Long dark nails had grown from his fingers.  Alex tried to cry out, a scream bottled in his throat like a rat stuck in a drain pipe.  The clawed hand sunk horribly into his face and ripped.  Alex was released and fell to the ground with a low and long moan.  He rolled and tried to crawl away from his attacker, blood seeping out onto the dark grass beneath him.

Robert Lewis, who had been through something rather similar earlier that night, crouched over him and looked down at his helpless victim.  He reached down and took hold of his ruined face, bringing it closer to his own.  No expression ever passed over that serene face, even as he crushed the drunken man’s skull

Alex stopped moving and his wrecked body lay on the floor.  The form that resembled Robert reached down and drove a hand into the ruin of his face.  There was a hiss and a gentle puff of smoke began to emerge from Alex’s head.

A few minutes later and Robert stood up, his hands soaked in blood.  He walked calmly back into the house where Mr Percy lay slumped over his table.  There was blood splattered onto the ceiling and all over the fridge. 

Robert turned the sink on and washed his hands.  He picked up a towel and dried them off.  He took the now bloody towel and carried it outside.  He sat down next to Alex, whose face was already being knitted back together.  Alex sat up without a sound.  Robert passed him a towel and Alex wiped his blood off his face.

Alex, the town drunk, got to his feet and staggered away heading back to his tumbledown shack of an apartment.  Robert Lewis walked around the corner slowly, keeping his pace slow and even.  He knocked on the door.

“Whose there?” came the voice on the other side of the door.

“Anna, it’s me. I’m home,” said someone who looked a lot like Robert Lewis.  Anna Lewis had always wanted a spyhole in the door but they hadn’t gotten around to installing one.  If he she had looked through the door, she’d have seen nothing that would have alarmed her, right up until the moment when she opened the door.

Then Robert Lewis suddenly smiled a smile that showed warmth and kindness that he simply did not have, a smile that had simply jumped into existence. 

“You’re late tonight!” she said smiling

“I got caught up with something,” he said to her, closing the door behind him.

Just another pattern being repeated, like a swirl of galaxies inside a human body.

Chapter 32- Cutting Both Ways

Chapter 32

Cutting Both Ways

Somewhere

His eyes flickered open and the pain began to roll, slowly, downhill onto him.  He screwed his face up and gritted his teeth.  The pain washed through him and took him down into its depths.

He sat up straight and coughed.  There was blood in his mouth and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuel.  He tried to remember what had happened before but his recollection of the events was scarce, faint.

“You’ve got to do it, we have to know that you aren’t infected.  Then you will be safe,”

He remembered these words, floating through the air.  “Then you will be safe,”

Safe, he wondered what had happened to keep a person safe from.

Oscar opened his eyes and saw the fires burning all over the village square.  The air was thick with the stink of burning fuel and a worse smell underneath it.  But Oscar couldn’t remember why, couldn’t remember what events had taken him to this point.

He looked to his left at the ground.  The grass was scorched and shriveled.  There was a fragment of metal still smoking lodged into the floor.  Oscar reached towards it and his hand recoiled before it reached.  Something had really put the burn on it as it was now red hot.

Oscar looked over at his right.  There was a terrible dark red stain on the ground that extended out from a burned and crumpled form that looked vaguely human.  Oscar felt an acid taste in the back of his mouth.  He turned to one side and spat.

Who was the body?  Oscar tried to remember and caught fragments of names and faces, Wharton.  One of them was called Wharton.  Oscar tried to remember what he looked like, what he sounded like.

He tried to get up but his head swam and once again, there was that bitter copper taste in the back of his mouth.  Oscar put a hand to his mouth and wiped the blood away from his lips.  Then he ran a hand across the back of his head as he got, shakily to his feet.

There was a roaring sound in the distance and Oscar tried to figure out what it was.  But he couldn’t quite focus on it.  It was a strange sound, almost familiar.  Oscar took a faltering step forward, stumbled and fell to the floor.

Oscar’s hands slammed into the floor with a jarring impact and he felt the pain in his palms and up his arms.  He spat on the ground again.  Just then, there was a low moan from near to him

“Oscar?” croaked a voice.

“Who is that?” said Oscar.  But his own voice was strange to his own ears.  He sounded faint, old and broken.  Oscar cleared his throat.

“Oscar?” croaked the same vague voice.

Oscar cleared his throat again and got to his feet once more.  “Who’s there?” he asked.

“Down here,” came the barely audible reply.

Oscar looked down across the floor to another human figure lying near his feet.  Oscar slowly lowered himself to his knees.

“Marcus, your name is Marcus,” said Oscar to himself as well as the horribly wounded man.

“That’s right,” came the voice through a thin smile.  “Oscar, are you okay?”

“My head hurts,” he replied.

“You need to focus, I’m not sure if anyone else has survived the explosion.  You need to clear your head and focus.  Can you do that?” came the thin voice.

“I think so,” replied Oscar.  “I’m not sure I remember what was happening before,”

“There was an explosion.  One of them set off an explosion, it killed Newman and I think it may have killed the others too,”

Oscar remembered it now, the young woman and her sudden movement.  Then the air was full of flames and Oscar had been thrown through the air.

“What do I need to do?” he asked.

“You need to find the tac-radio and make sure that Sat-Com knows we’re still alive.  Otherwise they might just bomb this place off the face of the Earth,”

“Right.  How do I do that?” he asked again, his head hurting with the effort.

“There’s a switch on the side.  If you bring it over quickly, I’ll walk you through it.  But you’ll need to hurry,” breathed Marcus weakly.  He raised a hand to get Oscar’s attention and then pointed down to his side.

There was blood and bone visible under his jacket and Oscar saw to his horror that Marcus was soaked in his own blood.

“Dios mio,” breathed Oscar.  “I’ll get you a medical kit!”

“It’s way too late for that, “ replied Marcus.  “Just get the tac-radio and you can save yourself, maybe even save the rest.”

“Come off it Marcus.  You’re hurt. I can help you,”

“Afterwards, if you must.  Get the damned radio.  Now the second thing you need to find is a gun.  Mine is smashed to bits.  So look around for a working firearm.  Do you know how to check the chamber?”

“I was in the Guard for a while.  I know how to check,” replied Oscar.

“Good, good man.  Now hop to it,” coughed Marcus.

Oscar got back to unsteady feet and wandered over the burning wreckage of the village towards a pile of metal objects.  His vision swam again and he felt the ground rushing up to him again.  Oscar sat down suddenly with a jolt.

“I can’t, I can’t focus,” he said to himself.

“It’s okay,” said another voice.  “I got it,”

Sat-Com, Somewhere in Virginia

Captain Thomas walked back over to the General’s office.  It had been just ten minutes since the shock news that one of the infiltrators had escaped into the countryside.  Captain Thomas had lead a search of the base and the exterior guard posts.

All he found was ruined corpse of a guard and a blood trail that lead out towards the forest that surrounded Sat-Com.  Captain Thomas had lead his men back inside and gone to report the situation to the General.

“The General’s in a bad mood,” confided Lt Molly Walker to the Captain as he stood by the door.  He knocked and waited for an answer.  Captain Thomas straightened his uniform and looked around nervously.

“Is he in there?” asked Captain Thomas.

“Yes he is,” replied Lt Walker.

Captain Thomas knocked again, shook his head and waited.  The command and control room was still a buzz with activity but there was a seriously downcast air.  The mood was low.

“Whats wrong with the team?” asked Captain Thomas.

“You didn’t hear?” replied Lt Walker.  “Of course you didn’t.  There’s been a coup,”

“As if we don’t have enough to deal with.  Where?” muttered Captain Thomas.

“Here, in D.C.  General Pierce has taken the whole Executive branch into “Protective custody.”  He’s issued a press release,” said Lt Walker.

“You’re kidding me?” spluttered Captain Thomas.

“He said it was the only way to deal with the threat successfully, with no political meddling,” said Lt Walker sadly.

“I don’t know why you sound so upset about it,” interjected another officer.  “With those meddling bean counters off our backs for a while, maybe we can get on and do our jobs,”

The door opened at last and the General stood in the door.  He looked tired, older than he had been earlier.  Captain Thomas stood straight and reported to him.

“We couldn’t find it.  It got away and headed into the town,”

“Yeah,” replied General Petersen.  “That was most likely.  Still it was worth a try.”

“Sir, what’s the situation here now?”

“The situation is that we’ve been taken out of the loop for a while.  But I’m not going to wait for orders from the new brass,”

General Petersen walked out onto the floor of the command room.

“Everyone, we’ve got a new mission,” he announced

Chapter 31- Dark Skies

Book 4

Regime Change

Chapter 31

Dark Skies

Cavill, Virginia

A nothing, nowhere town in the south, Cavill had a population of around two thousand.  Most of these people were either farmers or out of work after the last decent business in the town, the old toothpaste  plant, was moved overseas.

The people of Cavill considered themselves to be “proper Southern”, there was a thriving Baptist community with its attendant churches.  There was also a church run radio station.  God was surely a visitor, if not a resident, in Cavill.

Real South, proper Virginia, Cavill was a patch work of small detached houses and barns.  There were horses here still, as well as cows and sheep, hens and roosters.  And pigs, there was Mister Cregg’s pig farm on the edge of the little town.

There was no town hall, the town tended to have some informal political discussions at church every now and again.  The local pastor, Rainer McCloy, was also a prominent Republican fund-raiser in the county.

The people who lived in Cavill probably praised themselves on knowing each other very well, on having a keen sense of community.  But a lot of what went on locally was known and not spoken of.  For example Jason Ruth’s tendency to get drunk and smash up his house, broken furnishings dropped into the county skip.  Or DeAnna Morrow’s obvious depression and misery.  Or the mental state of the “war hero”, Thomas Avery.

People in Cavill would gossip about each other and pass a friendly comment; they were content with their hypocrisy.  They were good ole boys who knew a lot but did little.  It was a small town like so many other small towns across America, quiet except at the weekends, dull except over Thanksgiving and New Years, welcoming except when it wasn’t.

But something strange was going on, the normal atmosphere was broken and the night air was cool and sharp, clawing at the faces of the elderly couple walking their dog or the teenagers waiting around the corner from the 7/11. Night was falling on Cavill.

Sheriff Henderson, a former Mayor of Cavill and as well to-do as it was possible to find, was taking his flag down.  Dennis Henderson had been in the US infantry for nine years before an honorable discharge and then he had become a Charlotte police officer before moving out to Cavill.  He was known for his friendly manner, his hard line on teenage trouble makers (especially when intoxicated) and his patriotism.  He was a proper American patriot.  He made sure that old Glory came down from the flag pole and he tired it up and took it indoors.  The flag never once touched the ground.

Dennis Henderson, as he was inside his house, put the flag back inside its case.  The polished wood shone in the light and Henderson closed the case with a click.  He walked over to the fridge and took out a can of beer.  He flicked the lid and took a swill of it.  Beer, he supposed it would do in a pinch.

He sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the frozen food in its containers.  It was quite a thing, when a man of his age and experience was forced to defrost his own food rather than have a proper meal.  His wife had her weekly bridge game over at the Clancy’s and there was no interrupting it.  Dennis supposed that was just the price of doing business with her.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig of beer.  He looked around the kitchen, he’d finally gotten it how it liked it.  Wood paneling had cost a fortune to put in and the polish set the room of nicely so it shone.  He guessed the next thing would be to move house again and start the whole project off from scratch.

“Son of a bitch,” he repeated.  He got to his feet and stretched.  Somewhere out in Cavill, a dog was howling and barking.  It was one seriously unhappy pooch.  Dennis shook his head.  “Stupid dawg” he muttered to no one in particular.

Dennis wondered over the phone, black metal polished, and took it off the handle.  If the wife wasn’t home, there was no one to stop him from ordering a pizza from Michael’s place.  It would still be open now.  He wasn’t supposed to eat pizza anymore but she wasn’t around to stop him.

Dennis fingers touched the buttons for a moment when he heard a yelp and the dog’s barking had ended.  Dennis shook his head and then finished dialing.

“Mikey’s place,” came the tired voice.

“Michael, this is Sheriff Henderson here,” he said into the telephone.

“Hey sheriff.  How can I help you?”

“The wife aint home so I want to get a pizza delivered.  Is Shaun still with you?”

“Yeah of course.  What do you want?  Pepperoni?”

“Yeah I think so,” said Dennis.  There was a click from the door and Dennis turned slightly.  Home, she was home early.

“Hang on Mike,” muttered Dennis and turned around.  His wife was a stately woman of around fifty years, her usual salon perfect hair was wild and loose, her face was calm but there was blood on her hands.  Dennis looked at her and started.  The phone dropped from his hands.

“Jesus, Shirl?  What the hell happened?” he asked her.

“I fell down the nook, I just tripped and fell,” she said, her voice flat and dead.

Shock, she must have been in shock, thought Dennis.  The nook was the informal name of the drop before the towns river.

“Hang on, I’ll get you first aid,”

“Is deputy Andy here?” she asked.

“No, of course not. I sent him home hours ago,”

“Oh,” she said.

Dennis Henderson got to his feet but suddenly there was a vice like pressure on his arm.  He looked down and couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing.  His wife, his fifty year old stately wife Shirley was holding onto his arm with her hands.  Both hands.

“Shirl, you need to…” he never finished the sentence because she reached up with one hand and grabbed him by the jaw.  Her strength was incredible.  Dennis Henderson had fought with three hundred pound drunks, wiry infantry drill instructors and a meth head who seemed impervious to pain.  But she was stronger than any of them right now.

She pulled him to her as if to kiss him.  Her mouth clamped onto his.  Somewhere in his mind, he remembered the last time they had kissed; it was more than four years ago, back before Deputy Kelly.  Pain suddenly flared through his mouth, his throat and his head.

He tried to scream as someone who looked a lot like Shirley Henderson got to her feet, blood leaking down her lips.  Long claws were growing from her fingers.  She walked slowly towards him.  Dennis Henderson, bleeding and unable to speak, crawled towards the overturned chair.  His gun was holstered in his bandolier which hung from the back.

But she reached him long before that.