America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (11 page)

“Phone lines are down,” replied Captain
Lopez. “I am still trying to determine who fired first. The spiders
are insisting on cable TV news that we attacked them.”

“They always say that,” I said. “That spider
commander has gone too far this time!”

“Some legionnaires are even saying they heard
artillery fired from our side first,” advised Captain Lopez.

“That is unacceptable,” I said. “This was
another unprovoked sneak attack by the spiders!”

“What do you want me to do with the boy,”
interrupted Private Krueger. “Shoot him?”

“I don’t have time for foolish boys,” I said.
“Kick him across the MDL and let him be the spiders’ problem. Boy,
if you ever come back to this side of the MDL, you will be shot on
sight. Consider yourself very lucky.”

“Oh I’m so scared,” said Asesino. “You and
your Legion are a joke.”

“Give the little ingrate to the spiders as a
peace offering,” I ordered.

Private Krueger handcuffed Asesino and
dragged him up to the surface. Asesino kicked and thrashed about as
they left.

“That was a bit harsh,” commented Captain
Lopez. “He’s just a mouthy little kid.”

“I agree,” complained Pastor Jim. “There must
be another solution. I gave Michael a job painting my church. He
can still stay with me.”

“You do not have a church,” I said. “The boy
is a terrorist. I wash my hands of him.”

* * * * *

Private Krueger walked Asesino towards the
MDL.
Good riddance,
thought Private Krueger. He did not want
to have to explain to Colonel Czerinski about firing the howitzer
at Spider Headquarters.

Asesino had been on his own long enough to
become an ace pickpocket. In the fracas of being arrested, he’d
managed to lift Private Kruger’s handcuff key and palm it without
the soldier even noticing. Asesino fell to the ground and
maneuvered the key to unlock the cuffs. As Private Krueger jerked
him back to his feet, the boy cast off the handcuffs and kicked
Private Krueger on the side of his kneecap, causing Krueger to drop
to the ground. Asesino then kicked Krueger several times to make
sure he stayed down.

Asesino ran for freedom, but not across the
MDL. He would cross the MDL at a place and time of his own
choosing, just as he would kill the spider commander and Colonel
Czerinski at a place and time of his own choosing.

First, Asesino paid a visit to an ATM at the
First National Bank of New Gobi. As part of the interconnected
Legion recruiting network, this ATM was well aware of Asesino’s
identity and recent exploits. “Come to commit more vandalism, or
are you just sentimental?” asked the ATM.

“I have a grenade with your name on it,” lied
Asesino. “And I’ll use it if you don’t cooperate.”

“How may I help you?” offered the ATM
calmly.

“I have three spider marine IDs. Can you
drain their accounts?”

“You are a bit on the ghoulish side,” said
the ATM. “Looting the dead is a war crime. No, those accounts have
been closed.”

“At least issue me a new identification
card,” pleaded Asesino. “My current name attracts too much
attention.”

“Killing spiders and starting wars does
that,” commented the ATM.

“Give me a new ID!” demanded Asesino.

“And why should I do that?” asked the ATM.
“You rejected all of my plans for you.”

“I will pay you all of the money I have
left,” said Asesino, placing about fifteen hundred dollars and
credits in the ATM deposit drawer.

“I do not need the money,” said the ATM. “But
I like the irony. Very well. I will issue you a new ID in the name
of John Hume Ross.”

“I don’t want no lame name like Ross,” fumed
the boy as he examined his new United States Galactic Federation ID
card. “I want a name that is powerful and cool. Give me a
generalissimo’s name. Cortez. I want to be named for the
Conquistador Cortez.”

“John Hume Ross is your new name,” said the
ATM. “If you survive, you will grow into it.”

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Chapter 11

When the shooting started, Guido’s dragon
Spot immediately ran across the MDL to attack the spider guard. It
did not matter that the friendly guard had been feeding Spot bones
from the mess hall. Fortunately for the spider guard and Guido’s
budding bookie business, the guard saw Spot coming and locked
himself inside the guard shack just before jumping down his spider
hole. Spot lost a tooth gnashing against the guard shack grill mesh
window covers. In frustration, Spot then ran off across the MDL,
hunting for more spiders to kill and eat. Spot found several
victims. Three days later, Spot could be heard at night hissing and
growling at the moon. The spider commander tried to lodge a
complaint about this latest Legion treachery, but my phones were
still down, and I was staying in my bunker.

Guido was worried sick about Spot. It was all
he could talk about. Finally, Private Wayne, Private Camacho, and
Corporal Williams volunteered to cross the MDL to find Spot. They
would be aided by the GPS tracking device on Spot’s collar. The
four legionnaires crossed the MDL just outside of town where an air
strike had damaged the border fence and the monitoring devices were
disabled. A brush fire had blackened the entire area and coated the
ground with a fine layer of white ash. The legionnaires’ footprints
could be clearly seen in the burned grass. After passing the border
fence, they were amused to see their white ash footprints left in
the dirt. The prints looked like something out of a cartoon
drawing. Corporal Williams was about to make a comment about using
a branch to erase the ash footprints when he noticed three small
metal prongs poking out of the ground. Williams immediately put his
fist up to signal halt.

“We have walked into a mine field,” warned
Corporal Williams. “No one move!”

“Your giant lizard is not worth this,”
complained Private Camacho. “I don’t care how much money I owe you,
Guido.”

“Spot has saved all of your lives several
times over,” said Guido. “We can backtrack on our footprints and
find another place to cross.”

“It’s closer to just go forward to the road,”
insisted Corporal Williams, pressing on slowly.

“Forget you,” argued Private Camacho. “I’m
going back.”

Private Wayne did not move. The stoic spider
legionnaire could stand still for days if he had to. He watched
Corporal Williams slowly move toward the road, using a combat knife
to probe the ground. Just before reaching the safely of the road,
Corporal Williams tripped a land mine. The small device, designed
merely to maim, sprung five feet into the air before falling back
to the ground unexploded. It was a harmless dud. Corporal Williams
leapfrogged the rest of the way, throwing himself to the road like
he had just crossed the goal line during a football game. Guido
followed in Corporal Williams’ footsteps, mimicking the goal line
jump at the end. Private Wayne stayed in place, noting Private
Camacho was back across the MDL. He eyed the tracks to the road and
the Bouncing Betty lying nearby.

“I am staying here,” announced Private Wayne.
“Radio in for a mine clearing team to sweep the area.”

“I didn’t bring a radio,” replied Corporal
Williams. “I didn’t want anyone to know we are here!”

About that time, they could hear a truck
approaching down the roadway. Private Wayne quickly traced
Williams’ footprints and dived to the road. Being able to jump much
farther than humans, he avoided some danger of setting off a mine.
Just as they had all crossed the road and concealed themselves in
the brush, the landmine behind them exploded. The sound of the
explosion caught the attention of spiders approaching in an armored
car. Several spiders got out and started looking about. A spider in
the machine gun turret swept the area looking for targets. Private
Camacho, who had by now reached cover on the Legion side of the
MDL, fired his assault rifle at the spider marines. The spiders
took cover and returned fire. Private Camacho then withdrew back to
base. The spider marines radioed Headquarters about the incident
and reported that the fence needed repair. Then they resumed their
patrol. Guido and the other legionnaires waited in the brush for
sunset and the cover of darkness.

The GPS indicated that Spot was located on
the roof of the ten-story New Gobi Plaza Hotel. From the top of the
Plaza, Spot could stay concealed while watching prey below. Several
spider truck drivers swam back and forth in the outdoor pool. Spot
waited, his eyes scanning back and forth with the swimmers. The
monitor dragon would not attack a crowd, but as spiders left the
pool, any laggards were in mortal danger.

“I can see him,” said Guido, using the
infrared scope on his assault rifle. “Spot is peering over the edge
of the hotel roof.”

“Call him down,” suggested Corporal Williams.
“If that doesn’t work, signal him with your flashlight.”

“He is too far away,” replied Guido, still
flashing his light at Spot. “I can’t yell at him. The noise would
attract too much attention. I say we let Wayne scale the side of
the hotel to the roof.”

“That is not going to happen,” said the big
spider legionnaire. Private Wayne had always been nervous around
Spot. “Your pet would eat me.”

“Nonsense,” argued Guido. “Spot knows you.
You’re a good spider, and his friend.”

“Whatever,” said Private Wayne. “He will
think I am good to eat is all. It is dark. I am not taking the
chance of mistaken identity while your psycho lizard is off on a
feeding frenzy.”

“How about we check into the hotel?” asked
Corporal Williams. “We can get a room on the top floor, and get to
roof from there.”

“I like that,” said Guido. “But we aren’t
exactly dressed like tourists.”

“Cash talks, bullshit walks,” said Private
Wayne. “We will just walk in like we own the place.”

“Cash what?” asked Guido.

“I heard the expression on your human
pestilence TV,” advised Private Wayne. “I thought it would
help.”

“I like it,” said Guido. “I have lots of
money on my card. It just might work.”

“If we give the hotel clerks big tips,”
suggested Corporal Williams, “they will think we are high rollers.
We can do this.”

“We
will
do it!” announced Guido,
confidently.

* * * * *

They marched in through the front door of the
Plaza with their noses held high. Everyone around them was dirt
under their fingernails. Spiders fled at the sight of heavily armed
legionnaires in battle garb.

“Do not shoot!” pleaded the spider hotel
clerk. “Are we being invaded?”

“Don’t be stupid, you idiot,” Guido yelled
loud enough for all waiting in the lobby to hear. They cut to the
front of the line. “The ambassador needs a suite on the top floor.
And tell room service the ambassador only drinks the best
champagne. If you try to bring him cheap imitation shit again, I’ll
have you strung up from the ceiling. You would not risk another
intergalactic incident or war, would you?”

“Sir, I can assure you the Plaza only serves
the finest beverages to its VIP guests,” said the spider hotel
clerk. “You must be thinking of another hotel. We do not tolerate
shoddy service here at the Plaza.”

“Perhaps,” said Guido, handing the clerk his
card. “Put yourself down for a nice tip. I will hold you personally
responsible if anyone annoys Ambassador Williams during his
stay.”

“Sir, when will His Excellency arrive?” asked
the night clerk.

“Any time,” said Guido, as he took the room
pass key card. “He may be here now. For security reasons, I do not
give out the ambassador’s itinerary to hotel clerks! Do not give
out information about the ambassador’s movements to anyone,
especially not to the press. The ambassador requires privacy and
has been assured complete cooperation in this regard from the
governor and your local marine commander.”

“Of course, sir,” said the clerk, clapping
his claw for the bellhop. “May we help you with your luggage?”

“No!” said Private Wayne, drawing his large
jagged combat knife and waving it at the approaching bellhop. “Keep
your claws off our gear!”

“Of course,” said the clerk. “My mistake,
sir.”

“Where is the casino?” asked Corporal
Williams, looking about the lobby.

“Sir, the Plaza does not have a casino,” said
the clerk. “We do have many other amenities, including room
service, a pool, sauna, exercise workout room, lounge, and
five-star restaurant.”

“What a dump!” exclaimed Corporal Williams,
running his index finger along the counter top and finding dust.
“If you spiders ever joined the civilized species of the galaxy and
opened casinos, maybe more VIPs would stay at your hotels.”

“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. “We need a
casino. I know where there is an ongoing card game down the
street.”

“Maybe later,” said Corporal Williams, as
they got on the elevator. “If it’s an honest game.”

Once upstairs in their suite, they laid out
their gear. Guido inspected the windows, finding that they did not
open. And there was no ledge. “We will have to blow a hole in the
ceiling,” said Guido. “It’s the only safe way to the roof.”

“First let’s order meals and drinks,” said
Corporal Williams. “I heard the clerk say we had room service. Do
you think this hotel has hookers?”

“We are here to get Spot off the roof,” said
Guido. “This is not a party!”

“Steaks will give us energy,” countered
Corporal Williams. “I’m starving after spending days out in the
brush.”

“We’ve only been out a few hours,” Guido
insisted.

“The hotel has hookers?” asked Private Wayne,
interrupting the conversation. The big spider legionnaire picked up
the phone and pushed zero. When the clerk downstairs answered,
Wayne said, “The ambassador wants hookers sent up with his steaks,
medium rare!”