Alien Caller (38 page)

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It was late in
the afternoon when Dimock returned. Far later than David had
expected. He caught him first on the long range cameras in the
hills behind the house.

He was moving
quickly, carrying something, trying to catch David from behind,
unawares. Once more he looked like a panther, fast, sleek and
deadly, and there was no sign of any injury. Either he’d healed,
which he did rather well, or he’d simply overcome the pain. It was
irrelevant. The only thing that was important was what he was
carrying in the bag.

David focused
in on him as best he could, with camera after camera, trying to
answer that single question. But try as he might, he got nowhere.
Dimock must have suspected he was under observation. He kept low,
keeping the bag lower, and crept at high speed between the bushes.
It was a big bag, large enough to carry a full sized mortar, and
that would be a likely weapon for him to use.

David released
the gas from the areas ahead of where he was going, knowing that at
least the delivery would be silent. The canisters were hidden in
small holes under the leaf floor, and the gas would be leached out
slowly. Even so, he guessed the surrounding forest would be filled
with the narcoleptic gas by the time Dimock got there. The only
question was whether or not it would work.

He spent an
anxious half hour trying to keep track of Dimock as he made his way
down the hill, but it wasn’t easy. The man moved like a ghost,
flitting from one hiding place to another, but always coming
closer. Always concealing the bag. He knew he was being
watched.

Finally he
entered the gas filled regions, and David watched intently. Looking
for any sign he might be slowing down, and any clue if he did, that
he might be faking it. His knuckles went white as he gripped the
seat arms, in between desperate taps at computer keys.

Finally Dimock
reached some of the more open areas nearer the house, and David got
his first good look at the bag. It was an army kit bag, big enough
to hold at least a couple of full packs, or a field hospital tent.
What was in it though, was anything but. It had sharp metal points
sticking out in places, and it looked distinctly too large for the
bag. From that point on he was certain it had to be a mortar. The
tripod stand had made the bag awkward to pack and the ends of the
legs were no doubt what he could see.

Dimock carried
it with ease though, showing not the slightest sign of weakness or
slowing down, and David realized with sorrow that the gas was
either useless, or he was wearing filters. Another of his defences
had been proven useless. Next he had to turn to the static
defences, knowing Dimock would have expected them. But first he had
to wait, until Dimock found his place to set up. He’d never hit him
otherwise.

Dimock of
course knew that too. He would keep moving until he found the
perfect spot. A spot no further than half a mile away, where he
could get a good view of the house while still being protected from
line of sight weapons coming from it. Behind a small mound, hidden
in bushes. Exactly the places the army had taught him to find. The
same places David knew he would look for, and which he’d trapped.
But Dimock too knew David would have known what he’d look for. It
became a guessing game as to who knew how much, and what they’d
each prepared for.

David bit his
lip and waited anxiously while Dimock skulked around and then
finally found his place. A small hollow in the ground, nearly three
quarters of a mile away from his house, surrounded by small bushes
which he could creep through to spy out his target. A small hollow
which David too had long since spied out and placed a camera in the
high trees behind. And he thankfully noted, a remote activated
machine gun.

He watched as
Dimock slid into the hollow on his hands and knees, dragging the
bag behind him. The maniac scouted the area like a seasoned pro,
looking for any sign of mines or booby traps, knowing David must
have identified the area himself. But what he didn’t know was that
David had refused to set up high explosive charges anywhere near
where locals might wander. It was just too dangerous. Instead he’d
built his weapons into trees, high above the ground, with a good
field of view, and off switches. Totally safe, until he activated
them.

Dimock of
course, found no traps, and so eventually began to set up his
weapon. When he drew it out of the bag David congratulated himself
on his guesswork. It was a mortar. Full sized and designed to take
out either buildings or tanks. Just not his house. It was too well
armoured for that. But he was almost too quick as he suddenly
spotted the projectile. It was a mortar shell all right, but the
colour was wrong. Instead of dark grey almost black, it was red.
That burnished copper red gleam told him what he’d never expected.
The shell was case hardened with depleted uranium. His home, armour
plate and all, would not survive the attack.

Where the hell
he could have got such a shell, David couldn’t begin to guess, but
he didn’t have time to wonder. All he did know was that if he
didn’t get Dimock now, he would die. With the click of a mouse, he
switched on the motion activated guns behind him and waited. The
moment he crossed one of the infra red beams, they would fire. And
then they would track their target.

Dimock set up
the tripod first, and then pulled out the two part barrel. The
weapon when fully assembled had a barrel that was nearly eight feet
long, too big to carry in one section. Instead it had two halves
that slotted neatly into each other. That of course, was all the
movement the beams needed. The end of the barrel suddenly crossed
one of the beams, and the guns rang out.

David leapt in
his chair at the sudden roar through the computer speakers, while
Dimock also jumped. But unlike David he leapt higher, faster and
sideways, moving like a lightning bolt. As always he was simply too
fast to follow, moving faster than the eye could see. But not
faster than the guns could track. They had been given massive high
speed servos, just because of him. While David saw a blur moving
rapidly towards the woods behind him, he also saw the trails of
weapons fire following him all the way.

Five seconds of
shear hell, was all that there was, but it seemed far longer as his
heart leapt into his mouth. Then came the silence, as the guns
stopped firing, and he could see no sign of Dimock. Logically he
knew he was heading for the hills again, going back for another
weapon and a new approach, but Dimock sometimes wasn’t always
logical. Sometimes he was just insane, knowing his speed and his
strength could overcome nearly anything.

It only took
David a few seconds to find him, less than three hundred yards from
where he had been, staring back at the clearing, and the mortar. He
was no doubt preparing himself for a return, planning to take out
the weapons, and then fire the weapon in safety. David could see it
lying on the ground where he’d left it. It had taken a few hits,
but still looked intact.

Dimock
meanwhile, was finally looking a bit the worse for wear. He was
dotted with blood, some of it on his face, and David knew he’d
taken a few more hits. No doubt he would survive, his toughened
skin and the bullet proof vest having absorbed the worst of it, and
he would heal. But surely he was starting to hurt.

While Dimock
lay there recovering his breath, David quickly checked the computer
for evidence of his injuries. It was a frustratingly slow process,
even for his state of the art machine. But in the end it was well
worth the weight. He counted ten direct hits. Six of them
unfortunately on the body armour, but still four more on the legs
and arms and face. He would be slowed by them, hopefully. One had
scored right across his cheek, leaving a red trail. No doubt he
hated it most of all. A slap in the face, literally.

He found Dimock
again, still lying where he’d been before, carrying out first aid.
His legs were the most critical injury, a bullet in the back of
each thigh. They would slow a normal man up enormously David knew,
and hopefully even him. And his left shoulder looked to have taken
a decent shot, right under the armour. Blood was oozing down the
arm. But the look of hatred on his enemy’s face told him there was
plenty of fight left in him. He was at most slightly wounded, not
crippled.

Soon he had his
field dressings in place, and was looking fully prepared for his
return to the mortar. And David knew he could do it too. He now
knew where the covering guns were, and he would get them first this
time. After that he could largely do what he wanted. All David had
left to use against him were his long range weapons, including,
ironically, a mortar of his own.

David quickly
grabbed the weapon from the lounge where he’d left it, and headed
for the back door. He had to take out the mortar before Dimock got
to it.

He set it up on
the back porch, and quickly started adjusting it for distance and
wind, all the time trying to keep one eye fixed on the monitors.
All the while he was outside, he was vulnerable. But only if Dimock
realized what he was doing.

The weapon was
ready in seconds, David having assembled it that morning, and he
dropped the first shell in the tube immediately. The explosion of
flame and noise that came out of the back of it was as always
unbelievable, but he had the satisfaction of watching the shell fly
high in an arc towards its target. The only question was how close
it would get.

The explosion
at the other end was large and satisfying, but when the smoke
cleared he could see in the monitor that he’d missed the mortar.
The shock wave looked to have knocked it around all right, but it
still looked largely intact. And Dimock was nowhere to be
found.

He scanned all
the cameras as quickly as he could, hunting desperately, but
nowhere could he see the psycho. Which usually meant he was coming
up right behind you, fast and deadly. David grabbed the mortar
inside and slammed the back door shut hurriedly, expecting to find
him anywhere, and then breathed a quick sigh of relief. Against all
the odds he was still alive.

He breathed too
quickly. Motion sensors activated somewhere in front of the house,
and he scrambled to the front monitor, expecting to find the worst.
He wasn’t disappointed. Dimock stood there, larger than life and
twice as angry, with a rocket launcher slung casually under one
arm. He must have hidden it before. He had the most evil grin on
his face. The advance on the mortar position had been a feint,
allowing him to get in close with his true weapon. And David had
fallen for it. The madman knew he had him.

“Time to die
David.” He screamed it at him, even as he pulled the trigger, and
David had just the presence of mind to dive as his home exploded
around him. Steel walls protected him somewhat, but they still
buckled alarmingly while large sections of the ceiling came
tumbling down around him. Whatever sort of rockets that thing fired
they weren't standard fare. Antitank maybe. His computers
disintegrated under the falling masonry, and David was suddenly
blind. He was also deaf, his ears still ringing from the
assault.

All the while
he knew, Dimock was simply reloading, putting another missile in
the tube, and preparing to fire again. David grabbed the nearest
machine guns, and scampered for the trap door in the floor. Sliding
down the stairs he pulled the hatch shut after him, just as a
second massive explosion tore into the house above. Even the
basement shook.

But David knew
he didn’t have time to dally. Soon his house would be in ruins and
Dimock would come looking for his body. When he didn’t find it,
that was when the fun would begin. He made his way to the escape
tunnel, grabbing more ammunition and weapons on the way through.
They were his survival.

The other end
of the tunnel opened behind the nearby trees, and he carefully
levered open the hatch, hoping Dimock hadn’t discovered it.
Apparently he hadn’t. With no-one in sight, David crawled out of
the tunnel, and into the dense undergrowth of the forest proper,
all the while hearing Dimock laughing, and pounding more rounds
into his home. He should have been annoyed by the number of rockets
it was taking, but David was perversely pleased as it meant Dimock
was depleting his fire power. It also gave him the time to circle
around behind him.

In a very short
time he could see Dimock, still directly in front of his house,
casually reloading the launcher, and still looking very pleased
with himself. But all the while he was a sitting duck, as David
took aim with the M2 machine gun. It had long since been modified
into a unit able to be carried and fired from the hip, and it fired
fifty calibre armour piercing slugs. It should stop a charging
rhino.

Just as Dimock
was raising the launcher for another shot, David squeezed the
trigger and knew from the first instant that he’d hit. It was a
glorious feeling as he watched his enemy fly backwards like a toy.
He knew the body armour had probably taken most of the hit, but
even so, the ribs underneath had to be at least bruised if not
broken. And he didn’t stop firing. Even as he was flying backwards,
David could see and almost feel more slugs hitting his body. He
just hoped one of them was fatal.