Resistance: A Hole in the Sky

^{CHAPTER SEVENTEEN} CUT AND RUN

Capelli was running. And so were dozens of others, pounding towards the steel bridge, as a mob of angry regulators thundered after them. Bullseye tags stuttered past. One of them hit a woman in the back and drew half a dozen projectiles to her body. She staggered, threw up her arms, and landed facedown. One of their pursuers opened up with a grease gun and a hail of .45-caliber bullets dug divots out of the bridge deck as Capelli waved the survivors forward, shouting, “Stop at the end of the bridge! We’ll hold the bastards there.”

Some of the people who were fortunate enough to make it across the bridge continued to run. But most remained. “Take cover!” Capelli shouted. “Wait until they’re halfway across and let ’em have it.”

Capelli, Shaw, and a half-dozen others took up positions behind the rusting tow truck that was angled across the approach to the bridge. The rest of the fighters crouched to either side of the span, where steel girders and concrete supports would offer some protection. The regulators were on the span by then. They had seen their attackers turn and run, so they were confident of victory.

Ramsey had given his orders, and his followers were eager to obey: “Follow the scum home and annihilate them.”

But the bridge was two lanes wide, which meant only four horsemen could ride abreast. And that made them vulnerable. “Fire!” Capelli ordered from his position behind the tow truck, and what happened next wasn’t pretty. As members of the alliance opened up, the leading horses stumbled. Some tumbled head over heels; others reared up and threw their riders off as hundreds of projectiles ripped into the mass of tightly packed flesh. Horse screams overlaid human screams as a pink blood mist filled the air and the regulators located towards the rear of the column tried to stop.

But it was too late. As their mounts ran into the barrier of dead and dying flesh, the latecomers were caught up in the meat grinder as well. Some managed to dismount and take cover behind the pile of bodies. But it wasn’t enough to save them as Auger fire stuttered through the mound and cut them down. The whole battle lasted less than five minutes. “Cease fire!” Capelli shouted. “Save your ammo. You’ll need it later.”

A heavy silence settled over the scene. The defenders seemed dazed by the way in which their fortunes had been reversed as a man went forward to put wounded horses out of their misery. By the time the gunshots were over, friends had sought friends, relatives had sought relatives, and small groups were beginning to depart.

Capelli tried to hold them by explaining the need to not only defend the bridge, but prepare for a second assault on Tunnel-Through.

“You must be joking,” a man from Junk Yard said. “I lost my brother-in-law and a friend today. Sure, we stopped ’em here, but that won’t put an end to it. Ramsey has more men. Lots of ’em. And they’ll be gunning for us. We can knuckle under or run. And there’s no place to run to. So stay if you want to—but there ain’t no point to it.”

Maybe Mayor Locke or Mr. Potter would have been able to stop the exodus. But Capelli was no orator, and it wasn’t long before he was left with three men from Haven and two Osage warriors. That wasn’t enough to hold the bridge—not in the face of a concerted attack. And there was the town to consider. There were other bridges. And for all Capelli knew, Ramsey’s forces had already crossed one of them. If so, Haven would need every gun it could muster.

After thanking the Osage for participating in the attack, Capelli released them. Then, with his fellow townsmen at his heels, he began to jog. Susan was very much on his mind at that point. Had she escaped the carnage? Fear for his wife’s safety was like a lead weight that rode the pit of his stomach.

It took three hours of running and walking to reach Haven. And when they did, it was to find that the town was on high alert. Kosmo had lookouts posted all around the community, heavy weapons had been deployed to strategic locations, and a fast reaction team was ready to respond at a moment’s notice.

All of which was good, but inadequate, considering the extent of the losses the town had suffered, and the likelihood of reprisals. But before Capelli could worry about that, something more pressing required his attention. So when he saw Terri inspecting a newly created barrier he went over to speak with her. The mayor’s eyes were red with fatigue, her skin looked gray, and Capelli could tell that she was battling to maintain a positive attitude. “Have you seen Susan?”

Terri forced a smile. “Joseph! I’m glad you’re safe. Susan arrived an hour ago along with Bo and some of his braves. They crossed the river up towards the east fork, where the water is pretty shallow this time of year. The first thing she wanted to know was whether I’d seen you.”

Capelli didn’t wait to hear more. He went in search of Susan and found her in the underground meeting room, which had been converted into a makeshift hospital ward. There was no mistaking the look of joy on her face or the warmth of her embrace.

“Joseph!” she said into his shoulder. “Thank God. I’ve been so worried.”

“Me too,” Capelli said earnestly, as he led his wife over to a corner. “I have to leave soon, and I will feel a lot better knowing that you’re safe.”

Susan frowned. “Leave? Why? Where are you going?”

“Blackwell,” Capelli answered grimly.

“Blackwell? The town where we parked the Stalker? It’s crawling with stinks.”

“Exactly,” Capelli replied. “There are enough Chimera stationed there to destroy Tunnel-Through six times over. All I have to do is show them where the tunnel is.”

Susan was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. “That’s brilliant. And I think we can make it work. We’ll go there, get the stinks to follow us, and lead them to Ramsey. And, if we do it fast enough, the Chimera will destroy Tunnel-Through before the reprisals begin.”

“That’s the idea,” Capelli agreed. “Except for one thing. You aren’t coming.”

Susan opened her mouth to speak, but Capelli raised a hand. “I know… You don’t take orders from any man. But there’s an exception to every rule. And I’m asking you to make one now. For me, for little Joe, and for us. Please.”

Susan’s eyes narrowed, then softened a bit. “Okay… But only if you agree to take someone else with you.”

“I will,” Capelli promised. “Plus Rowdy. He’s been cooped up for days.”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“Just before sunrise.”

“Come with me,” Susan said as she took hold of his hand. “We need to tell the mayor, find a volunteer, and collect the gear you’ll need.”

“And I could use a bath,” Capelli added.

“With or without me?”

“I could drown without a lifeguard.”

Susan laughed, and Capelli was reminded of all the little things that made life worth living.

Capelli, Rowdy, and Mike Unver left Haven at 0432. Mayor Locke, Mr. Potter, and other members of the council were present to see them off. “Thank you,” Terri said earnestly. “Thank you very much.” She looked like she was going to cry but managed not to.

Susan did cry, but didn’t say anything other than, “Shoot straight.”

Capelli and Unver were mounted on sturdy horses with a heavily loaded mule in tow. Having racked up only six hours of sleep, Capelli was tired, but painfully aware of how important the mission was and determined to accomplish it. The sky was clear, the stars glittered like diamonds, and there was enough light to see by.

They followed the same path Capelli wanted the stinks to use, only in reverse. The plan was to leave weapons, ammo, and a little bit of food at key locations along the route. That would allow him to travel light, which would be very important, with what could be hundreds of Chimera on his trail. And thanks to Unver’s technical skills, Capelli was equipped to plant some very nasty surprises along the way as well.

With fresh mounts, and Rowdy out front, they made good time at first. But they had to hide when a shuttle appeared off to the west, and each one of the stops took time. Especially since they now had to cache the items left behind. So when the sun neared the western horizon, Capelli and Unver were still a good five miles short of Blackwell.

But that was to be expected. Capelli knew what was coming, and so he was in need of some hot food. Not to mention sleep. So they watered the animals, made camp in among some trees, and cooked a simple dinner.

“So,” Unver began once the canned stew had been served. “What time are we going to get up in the morning?”

“I’m getting up about 0500,” Capelli replied levelly. “But you’ll be at least ten miles east of here by then—because you’re leaving right after dinner.”

Unver frowned. “Like hell I am.”

“Oh, you are,” Capelli replied confidently, as he swallowed a swig of water. “Because if you go with me, both of us are going to die. And I’m not ready to cash it in yet.”

“Who says?” Unver demanded defiantly.

“I say. Look, Mike, no offense, but you’re too damned old for this. And if you come along you’ll slow me down. Then the stinks will kill you and me, and Ramsey will be free to take Haven. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Unver replied reluctantly. “But I promised Susan that I’d stay with you no matter what. She said she’d shoot me if I came back without you.”

Capelli chuckled. “That sounds like her all right. Don’t worry about it. Her bark is worse than her bite. Listen, Mike… It took balls to volunteer for this mission. And you put me right where I need to be. But this is as far as you’re going. So eat up, take those hay burners, and get the hell out of here.”

Unver left forty-five minutes later. And as soon as the schoolteacher was out of sight Capelli broke camp, followed Rowdy west, and found a second place to sleep. That way Unver wouldn’t be able to reveal Capelli’s location if he was captured.

Capelli thought he was alone as he slipped into his sleeping bag, but that wasn’t the case. You don’t trust anyone, do you? the voice inquired.

I trust Susan. And Rowdy.

How about me? Do you trust me?

You don’t exist.

Maybe I do and maybe I don’t, the voice said evasively. But I have a piece of advice for you.

Which is?

When the stinks come after you, run like hell.

Peals of laughter were still echoing through Capelli’s mind when he finally went to sleep.

Capelli awoke earlier than intended. The sun wasn’t up yet, but he could see the stars through foliage above him, and figured it would be a sunny day. But cold. Very cold. Which would burn more energy.

Knowing it would be his last meal for a while, and that he was going to need lots of energy, Capelli forced himself to eat a large breakfast even though his stomach felt queasy. A sensation he had felt many times during the hours prior to combat.

Rowdy, who was feasting on a can of hoarded dog food, showed no such reservations. Of course he had no idea what lay in store for him, and ignorance is bliss.

Once the meal was over, Capelli wrapped his sleeping bag and cookware in a shelter half and hid them up in a tree despite the fact he was unlikely to return. Because he couldn’t afford the extra weight—and it went against his grain to abandon good gear.

Then it was time to fill his canteens from a nearby stream before heading due west. The LAARK was heavy, as were the backup rounds, but critical to his plan. The idea was to send the stinks a message they couldn’t ignore. Then, once they were hooked, it would be time to employ the Marksman. A Magnum completed his armament.

Security around the Blackwell base had been lax when Capelli and Susan passed through. But was that still the case? Capelli hoped so but knew better than to take something like that for granted. So as the sun started to rise, he entered the east side of town. The houses in front of him were silhouetted against a soft glow that came from up ahead.

He worked his way between abandoned structures and along darkened streets until what looked like a single headlight appeared in the distance. He grabbed Rowdy’s collar and pulled the dog behind a garage as a Patrol Drone hummed past. Then, once the machine was gone, it was time to continue west.

As Capelli zigzagged through the streets, the light he’d seen earlier grew even brighter and the Chimeran base appeared ahead. The newly constructed fence glowed as if lit from within, and Capelli figured it was charged with electricity. Hybrids could be seen patrolling the perimeter as well. All of which was interesting but didn’t matter, because Capelli had no intention of entering the base. The LAARK would take care of that for him.

Capelli told Rowdy to stay, placed the Marksman on the ground next to his right knee, and ducked out from under the rocket launcher’s sling. He freed the weapon and then checked to make sure it was loaded, and that an extra two-round magazine was ready for use.

Now he had to choose a target. Something taller than the intervening fence. And as Capelli stared into the sight, he found he had a number of choices. Two buildings were tall enough to qualify as targets, in addition to the smelter’s smokestack. It bore the company’s name, and given the angle he would be firing from, looked like the best bet. So Capelli brought the LAARK to bear, aimed as close to the bottom of the structure as he could, and took a deep breath. After the first rocket left the launcher there would be no turning back.

Capelli thought about Susan, his right index finger tightened, and the LAARK jerked as a rocket sped through the frigid air. It hit dead center on the stack. A wink of red-orange light, then a resonant boom. The explosion blew a hole in the brick chimney but left it otherwise intact.

So Capelli fired a second missile. He heard the impact but was too busy loading a new magazine to view the results. Then the rocket launcher was up on his shoulder, ready to fire again. The ragged hole in the smokestack was bigger than before and an undulating siren could be heard. Capelli ignored the temptation to look around and focused all of his attention on the target. The third rocket hit home, but the fourth flashed through empty space, because the one-hundred-foot-tall stack was falling by then.

Capelli lowered the weapon in time to see the tapered cylinder land on the smelter’s parking lot, where it crushed two Stalkers before breaking into three sections and sending a thick cloud of coal dust up into the air.

Rowdy barked excitedly as Capelli put the LAARK down and grabbed hold of the Marksman. The plan was to leave the launcher where the stinks could find it—and to eliminate as much weight as possible. “Come on, boy,” Capelli said as he stood. “It’s like the man said… Let’s run like hell.”

It would take the Chimera at least ten minutes to figure out the angle of attack, send some ’brids to check out the area from which the rockets had been fired, and find the LAARK. And Capelli planned to make the most of the lead time.

Rowdy took the lead as they followed a zigzag course between derelict houses and onto a street that led towards the rising sun. The fiery disk was big, bright orange, and a potential ally.

With that in mind he pounded his way toward the church he had identified more than an hour earlier. It, like every other building in Blackwell, had been broken into during the many months since the fall. The structure’s arched windows stared sightlessly at the street, the front door hung askew, and the interior was badly trashed.

But Capelli had no time for sightseeing. His left boot came down on a hymnal as he opened a door and followed a flight of twisting, turning stairs upwards. The steeple was home to a bell, with louvered shutters on all four sides.

Capelli used the rifle butt to shatter four horizontal strips of wood on the west wall and shoved the weapon’s barrel out through the resulting hole. Then, he ordered Rowdy to stay, and put his eye to the telescopic sight. What he saw was what he had expected to see.

Having determined that the attack had come from the east, the Chimeran hive-mind sent two dozen Hybrids in that direction. Capelli’s position was well concealed, and with the rising sun behind him, he eyed the oncoming mob. From his vantage point above and in front of the aliens he could see each one of them, including the stinks towards the rear.

So rather than alert the entire group by firing on the first row, Capelli took careful aim at the very last alien. The creature’s head rose and fell rhythmically as it ran. Capelli waited for the ’brid to sink fractionally, applied pressure to the trigger, and felt the wooden stock kick his shoulder. A fraction of a second later, the Chimera’s head came up and blossomed into a bloody cloud. Those at the front of the formation heard the gunshot, but assumed the projectile had missed, as they began to spread out.

But Capelli was ready for that and continued to harvest alien lives until the survivors realized what was happening and sought cover. That was his cue to exit the steeple as the half-blinded ’brids began to pepper the structure with Bullseye and Auger fire. It sounded like a hailstorm had hit the church as hundreds of projectiles struck the front of the building and pencil-thin rays of light stabbed the gloomy interior. Splinters flew all around them, and the church shook like a thing possessed as Capelli and Rowdy bolted out through the back door.

Now he had to run—confident in the knowledge that the Chimera were well and truly hooked. But could Capelli stay ahead of them? That was the question. And the answer was maybe. If he could sustain the right pace, stay hydrated, and maintain situational awareness.

And it wasn’t too difficult at first. The air was cold, Capelli was fresh, and as he left Blackwell for the flat countryside to the east there was nothing significant to slow him down. So in half an hour Capelli covered about four miles. He had established a good rhythm, and was jogging down the white line, when two rows of projectiles blew divots out of the road to either side of him. A Chimeran fighter roared over his head seconds later and arced away.

Capelli swore, turned to the right, and jumped over a drainage ditch. Within a matter of seconds he was in knee-high wheatgrass. It had been taller back towards the end of summer, but a succession of snowfalls had beaten it down. Still, it was the only cover available, so Capelli went facedown in the field as the fighter came in for a second run. Projectiles struck, columns of half-frozen soil soared into the air, and dirt rained back down. But Capelli and Rowdy were a good ten feet outside the main impact area. So only a small quantity of dirt landed on them. The incoming projectiles had been close, however. Too close, as Capelli jumped to his feet.

The fighter was dangerous, no doubt about that, but it was fast, so fast it couldn’t slow down enough to effectively engage such a small ground target. While the aircraft was banking away, and preparing to make another gun run, Capelli had time to advance. Even if he couldn’t get very far. Of course, that strategy wouldn’t work for very long. Sooner or later the fighter pilot would get lucky. And even if the Chimera didn’t, it seemed safe to assume that more stinks were closing in from the west.

So as Capelli jogged forward he kept an eye peeled for the grove of scraggly trees, the outhouse next to it, and the old travel trailer. The very sight of them was like an injection of energy. He ran forward as the fighter circled to the north, jerked the trailer’s metal door open, and grinned. The L11-2 Dragon was right where he had left it. Along with a canteen full of water, a couple of candy bars, and a first-aid kit.

The Marksman went over Capelli’s shoulder; he stuffed one of the candy bars into his mouth, and took hold of the flamethrower with both hands. Then, he backed away from the Airstream and turned and ran. A burst of explosive projectiles plowed through the trailer with a roar and shattered a tree beyond.

Capelli was pursuing a zigzag course by then, firing the Dragon as he ran. The wheatgrass was damp and slow to catch fire, but once aflame the stubble produced plenty of black smoke. It blew from west to east and provided Capelli with some much-needed concealment.

After ten minutes of continual use the Dragon ran out of fuel. So Capelli threw it away and continued east, knowing that every step carried him closer to his goal. He was starting to tire a bit, but knew it was important not only to keep running, but to reach the next dump. A place where he could make a momentary stand if he chose to.

As a veil of smoke blew over Capelli’s head, and the fighter strafed a spot half a mile to the south, he followed a game trail down into a gully. Rowdy came to a stop and began to bark madly as hundreds of Leapers surged up and out of the depression. Had they been sent to intercept him? There was no way to be sure, but Capelli didn’t think so. He figured it was a piece of bad luck. As was the fact that he was armed with a Marksman rather than a Rossmore. The latter being far more effective where massed targets were concerned.

But all he could do was rely on what he had. So Capelli was forced to back up towards the wall of fire he had created as he sent one of the rifle’s semiautonomous Drones out over the gully. The device immediately went to work killing the stinks, but even more boiled up out of well-hidden caves.

Fortunately, Rowdy was there to keep the scorpion-like horrors from surging in around the human. The dog was like a whirling dervish as he darted in and out with his jaws snapping. Leaper claws flashed, and potentially lethal tails whipped back and forth, as Rowdy scored kill after kill.

Thanks to the deadly turrets, plus well-aimed projectiles from the Marksman, and Rowdy’s fighting prowess, the twosome managed to stay on their feet as the fire closed in from behind. And that was when Capelli ran out of ammo. It left him with no choice but to reach for one of the four grenades he was carrying.

Rowdy snarled as he tore into a Leaper and the air-fuel grenade arced into the mass of oncoming bodies. With a loud whump the device went off; flames consumed the remaining Leapers, and they began to scream.

“Rowdy!” Capelli shouted. But only a shrill whistle could pull the dog away from the stink he was savaging. The animal’s muzzle and head were covered in gore. Capelli and Rowdy ran forward, jumping bodies whenever necessary, making for the gully and the high ground beyond. Then something hit the field fifty feet in front of them and exploded.

Capelli paused to look back and saw that a Titan and two Ravagers had managed to pass through a gap in the wall of fire. A gang of Hybrids was following along behind. Another cannon shell was on its way, and it would have scored a direct hit on both man and dog, if they hadn’t been scrambling up the bank.

With a Titan and two Ravagers on his tail, it was critical for Capelli to reach the supply dump and do so quickly. A big farmhouse appeared on the left as he topped the slope and paused to hurl his remaining grenades at the oncoming Chimera. They exploded in quick succession. The last was an air-fuel grenade that wrapped a Hybrid in a cocoon of yellow-orange flames.

Without waiting to see the results of his efforts, Capelli raced across an open area towards the southeast corner of the wraparound porch, where the stash was hidden. Pieces of lumber flew as he tossed them aside to reveal a piece of canvas and the items hidden beneath it.

The dump included two canteens of water, an M5A2 Carbine, and most important of all, a Wraith minigun. Not the faulty weapon from Haven’s original arsenal, but a brand-new unit taken off the Suzy Q and transported to the site by mule. It was a weapon Capelli carried frequently during his days with the Sentinels.

The Wraith might work on the Titan, the Hale voice observed dispassionately, but what about the Ravagers? Their shields will protect both them and the Hybrids.

Capelli knew the voice was correct but could only handle one thing at a time as he shoved M5A2 magazines into empty ammo pouches, replaced his mostly empty canteens with fresh ones, and took the minigun into his arms.

The Titan was climbing up out of the gully by then. Only his head and shoulders were visible, but it wouldn’t be long before the giant towered above Capelli, unless he could cut the stink down to size before then. Wraiths were notoriously difficult to fire, both because of their incredible weight and the fact that the rotary barrels could put out 1,200 rounds per minute. That produced a lot of recoil and caused the weapon to rise up off its target unless controlled.

But Capelli was not only strong, he was something of an artist with a minigun. He fired a tight grouping of bullets and the monster staggered. The Chimera was tough, however, and still managed to fire its cannon.

Capelli felt the heat the projectile produced as it flew past him and hit a tool shed, reducing the structure to kindling. Stay on it, the voice ordered sternly. You’ve got to kill that thing before the Ravagers arrive.

Capelli wanted to tell the voice to shut up but knew doing so would be pointless. So he kept the trigger down, walked the minigun projectiles back and forth across the Titan’s chest, and swore when the weapon clicked empty. He dropped the Wraith and was reaching for the carbine as he backed away. The Titan swayed uncertainly, seemed to steady itself, and exploded.

That was good, but not good enough, as the Ravagers topped the rise and opened fire from behind their translucent shields. Hybrids were following along behind them. Rowdy barked and Capelli fired on them, but it was a waste of bullets. The big shields were impervious to rifle fire.

Capelli was left with one option. He’d been hesitant to use it up until then, and for a very good reason. Unver claimed the system would work, but what if it didn’t? Projectiles whipped past Capelli like angry bees as he ducked down behind the concrete platform on which the old-fashioned pump sat. The remote was about the size of a pack of cigarettes, and Capelli could still hear Unver’s words. “Wait until the bastards are right on top of the charge,” the older man had instructed. “Then push the button. That’s all there is to it.”

But Capelli couldn’t see where the Ravagers were. Not without sticking his head up high enough to get it blown off. So all he could do was push the button and hope for the best.

The block of C-4 went off with a loud boom that shook the ground, threw a column of debris up into the air, and shattered windows on the south side of the farmhouse. Capelli rose up from behind the platform at that point and was thrilled to see that one Ravager and at least three Hybrids had been killed. It was difficult to determine the number, with so many body parts lying around.

Unfortunately, the second Ravager was very much alive. Rowdy dashed out into the open as it continued to advance. Capelli shouted, “No!” as projectiles pinged all around him, but the dog wasn’t listening. The Ravager swiveled a few degrees in order to fire on the animal.

Capelli saw his opening. He allowed the carbine to fall so he could grab his revolver. The moment the handgun was up and in position he fired. Due to the angle, the large-caliber slug hit the stink in the left shoulder. It rocked the beast back on its heels but wasn’t enough to bring it down.

So Capelli triggered the secondary fire mode, causing the deeply embedded bullet to explode. That blew the Chimera’s arm off, so both the limb and the shield fell together. The second bullet hit the Ravager in the skull and knocked it off its feet. The Chimeran body was still falling as Capelli took a hit in the side, dropped down behind the platform, and knew the whole effort had been for nothing. He was bleeding, his carbine was out of reach, and he had just four rounds left in the pistol. Once the Hybrids flanked him, the battle would be over.

Capelli had accepted that reality, and was thinking about Susan, when he heard a deep-throated blam, blam, blam, as someone fired a burst from what sounded like a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). That was followed by sustained fire and the sound of Mike Unver’s voice. “Take that, you scabrous bastards! May all of you rot in hell.”

At that point Capelli stood, weapon in hand, to discover that all of the remaining Hybrids were down. Bodies were sprawled every which way just short of his position. Unver had a big grin on his face as he exited the farmhouse.

“I thought I sent you home,” Capelli said levelly.

“You did,” the older man answered. “And I was halfway there when I realized that you are totally full of shit. So I came back.”

Capelli grinned. “Thanks, Mike.”

Unver nodded. “You’re welcome, Joe. You were hit. How bad is it?”

Capelli returned the pistol to its holster so he could undo his combat vest and pull his shirt aside. The wound hurt, and his side was sticky with blood, but the hole had already begun to close. “Damn,” Unver said in wonderment. “You heal fast.”

“Yeah,” Capelli said, as he refastened his clothing. “There’s nothing like government health care.”

Rowdy was miraculously unhurt. He paused to lift a leg over a dead Ravager, and both men laughed.

“Come on,” Capelli said. “If the hive-mind was angry before, it’s really pissed now. Let’s get out of here.”

The next half-hour or so passed without incident as the barely felt sun rose higher in the sky and the threesome continued to travel east. The momentary calm was a good thing, unless it meant that the stinks had given up. But they had nothing to fear; a Chimeran shuttle rumbled over their heads but then disappeared over the next rise. “They’re trying to cut us off,” Capelli said, as they paused to rest. “How much do you want to bet that stinks are closing in from the west as well?”

“I’d put money on it,” Unver agreed. “If I had any… What do we do now?”

“We’re still a good five or six miles out from Tunnel-Through,” Capelli replied. “So we need to get closer. Let’s move forward and see if we can slip between the stinks. If that doesn’t work, maybe we can circle around them.”

“It sounds like a plan,” Unver said. His voice was steady, but Capelli could see the fear in his eyes. Fear and determination.

Capelli nodded. “Let’s go.”

Seven men were crammed into Judge Ramsey’s office. A couple of them were seated, but most had been forced to stand. A large hand-drawn map had been fastened to the wall behind Ramsey’s cluttered desk. All of the local settlements were identified by name as well as the estimated population.

Ramsey, who was just about to call the meeting to order, was a happy man. And he had every reason to be, because while the attack on Tunnel-Through had resulted in casualties, his forces had been victorious. And, based on information obtained from the prisoners they had taken, Ramsey felt sure that the so-called alliance had been crushed. A theory borne out by the fact that the attackers were all running for home—if their various burrows could be called homes.

But more than that, the failed assault on Tunnel-Through had boosted morale. Suddenly, having been threatened from the outside, the citizens of Tunnel-Through were united in a way that they hadn’t been before. And that meant his position was secure.

Still, Ramsey knew that the history books were filled with examples of rulers who had underestimated their opponents, and had been severely punished for it. So he would not allow his enemies to plot against him—he intended to root them out. Starting with the town of Haven, which, according to Mel Tilson, was where the resistance effort had begun.

They were about to begin their meeting when the door opened and a trail-weary regulator was shown in. The man’s hair was plastered to his head and he was in need of a shave. He held a Stetson hat in both hands and rotated it jerkily as Hunter introduced him.

“This is Rick Toby, Judge… He’s been on picket duty west of here.” Then, turning to Toby, Hunter said, “Tell Judge Ramsey what you saw. And don’t leave nothin’ out.”

Ramsey listened with a growing sense of alarm as Toby described how he had seen a man and a dog fleeing from a large group of Chimera. Then, according to the regulator, the man had started a fire to slow the stinks down, and even managed to kill a few.

Toby wasn’t sure what had occurred afterward, because after seeing such a large force of Chimera making a beeline for Tunnel-Through, he thought it was his duty to rush back and deliver a warning.

“And you were correct,” Ramsey said approvingly. “Thank you.”

As Toby was shown out of the office, Ramsey was left with more questions than answers. Who was the man with the dog? Why were the Chimera chasing them? For the same reason they would chase any human? Or had the man done something to aggravate them? And what if the fugitive managed to survive a bit longer? Would the stinks stumble across Tunnel-Through? Suddenly, Ramsey had something more than revenge to worry about. And that was survival. His survival. Which, according to Ramsey’s perspective, was the most important thing in the world.

Being very much aware of how visible the dog would be if he broke the skyline, Capelli kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar, as he and his companion neared the top of the rise. “Stay,” Capelli said emphatically, and he pushed Rowdy down. The mix made a whining noise in the back of his throat but obeyed nevertheless.

With Rowdy taken care of, Capelli elbowed his way to the top of the slope where Unver was waiting.

“You aren’t going to like this,” the schoolteacher said, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

And Capelli saw that the other man was correct. The drop ship had landed, the cargo-bay door was open, and a dozen Hybrids were on the ground. Then something unexpected appeared.

The Attack Drone was identical to those Capelli had seen in the past, except for one thing: This unit was carrying a rider! As were the two machines that followed it out of the cargo compartment and into the bright sunlight.

Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. In fact, Capelli knew that a Sentinel named Hawthorn had successfully ridden a Drone. But such occurrences were very rare. And the stink–machine combination was potentially quite dangerous.

“They’re coming this way,” Unver warned, and it was true. The Chimera had formed a skirmish line that consisted of alternating Hybrids and piloted Drones.

Capelli had a sudden thought and rolled over in order to look west. He was pleased to see that there weren’t any stinks coming from that direction. Not yet, anyway.

“Okay,” Capelli said as he turned back. “Here’s what I want you to do. Once the stinks are in range, kill a couple of them. But don’t waste any bullets on the Drones. Their shields will protect the pilots. Then I want you to stand up, let the bastards see you, and run west. There’s an old combine a couple of hundred yards to the west. Take cover behind that.”

“Yeah?” Unver said suspiciously. “And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to lie here, let the stinks pass by me, and shoot them in the back.”

Unver grinned. “I like it. But you’d better find some cover. Start looking. I’ll handle the rest.”

And the teacher was as good as his word. While Capelli worked his way sideways, careful to keep Rowdy in close, Unver opened fire with the BAR. The M1918A2 was firing armor-piercing .30-06 rounds, which produced an ominous roar as Capelli settled in below some bushes and pulled the dog in next to him. The firing stopped as Unver got up, paused to make sure the stinks had seen him, and turned west as projectiles kicked up dirt along the crest of the hill. Then he was gone and hidden from their sight.

Capelli was lying on his back. By raising his head slightly he could look left and right. That was how he saw four Hybrids top the crest of the hill and head downslope. The Drones arrived a second later, and as luck would have it, one of them passed directly over Capelli’s position. He could hear the thrumming sound, see the scratches on the bottom of the machine, and smell the stink of ozone as a wave of heat washed over him. Rowdy barked madly, but the Drone was loud enough to obscure the sound.

Then Capelli was up, carbine to his shoulder, firing from only yards away. The pilot’s back was exposed and the Hybrid jerked convulsively before it fell to the ground. And with no one to hold the throttle open, the Drone drifted to a halt.

What happened next was the result of an impulse rather than a carefully conceived plan as Capelli dashed down the slope. Thanks to the height advantage the hillside gave him, he was able to enter the Drone and occupy the just-vacated seat. The vehicle bobbed and sank slightly as Capelli’s hands sought the controls. It took him only seconds to figure out that the joystick on the left was used to steer the Drone—and that the grip on the right controlled the machine’s speed.

Then Capelli was off. And not a second too soon, as a ’brid fired a burst of rockets at him. They passed through the space he had occupied moments before and slammed into the hillside. The battle could have ended there and then had the other Drones been able to gang up on him. But Unver was in position by that time. And every time a ’brid pilot turned its back on the schoolteacher it risked being shot.

That limited what the Chimera could do and gave Capelli a much-needed advantage as he guided his vehicle in behind one of the stinks and fired the Drone’s automatic weapon. A steady stream of projectiles tore into the enemy pilot and its mechanical mount. The Drone exploded. Pieces of flaming debris flew in every direction. There was a clanging sound as a piece of metal struck the front of Capelli’s machine and bounced off. Capelli put the vehicle into a tight turn and went after the third Drone.

But it, along with all of the remaining Hybrids, had already fallen victim to Unver’s lethal BAR. The pilot was slumped forward against the controls as its machine drifted two feet off the ground. “We did it!” the ex-schoolteacher shouted exultantly, as he dashed upslope. “We killed every goddamned one of them.”

It was the last thing Unver ever said, as a row of ten Stalkers appeared to the west. All of them opened fire at once and missiles rained down out of the sky. Capelli was spared as columns of soil soared into the air—but Unver vanished as if he had never existed.

Capelli swore bitterly as he turned the machine towards the east and opened the throttle all the way. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to keep going. For Unver, for Susan, and ultimately for himself.

Well, I’ll be damned, the voice remarked. You listed someone else first.