Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (35 page)

“How many vehicles are missing?” Graham asked.

“I don’t know. A dozen. Maybe more,” Thorpe said. Graham looked at him for a moment and then looked at the director.

***

“So, what you are saying is, I should return to Road 17 and drive eastward ten miles? Okay, thanks a lot, man. You heard that? You think you’ll be able to get it right this time? Let’s go! Thanks a lot.“ The tall agent turned back to the cult members and opened his mouth in amazement. They had all vanished.

“What the -? Never mind, let’s go,” Rodney told his driver, who put the yellow pickup in gear and turned the car around, heading south to the highway.

As they drove forward, they could see a car exiting the highway, turning towards the compound and heading towards them. Rodney could clearly see the Sign of the Stormgod on the car’s hood.

***

“I did not want this to happen. I did what was humanely possible to prevent this. Why must good people spill their blood before the real war begins?” Allan asked, sitting in Ellis’s van. Ellis was keeping an eye on him while listening to her radio.

“You are one of the centerpieces. I implore you. The lives of many rest in your hands. Please. Consider your actions. Let us live in peace. We harm no one. We safeguard the future of mankind. Let me only explain. The bloodshed can be averted. I know it can. Give it a chance!” Allan said, raising his shadowy eyes to the NSA agent sitting next to him. She glanced at him, not sure how to respond. Allan looked at her and then looked at the floor again.

“Violence. I thought I could prevent this from happening. I thought that if I would not pick up arms, others would do likewise. I refused the Harbinger’s pact, thinking I would be able to avoid causing harm. I was wrong.”

Ellis stared at him without saying anything.

“I heard the words of the Stormgod two weeks ago. I have seen with my own eyes. There is no doubt in my mind. Humankind is heading towards a huge war and there is no certainty that humankind will survive this war. The Stormgod offers to shelter us. I was to be the Harbinger, the one who would lead the power of the Stormgod in our world, but there is a price to be paid. Why should the Stormgod save us if we won’t pay the price? I thought that another way was possible. I thought that good people would come to see what needs to be done, but humankind refuses to see. Humankind always acts in ignorance and fear. I thought that the ancient fear of the unknown would not be so powerful in the twenty-first century. I implore you. Bring the message to your leaders. I do not want to make the Harbinger pact. I do not want to feed the idol. Please, stop this before it is too late.”

Allan’s wide eyes were on Ellis. She put her hand on her radio.

“HQ, ETA four minutes. Guardian, scan the area. Secure our departure zone,” she barked.

Allan put his head in his hands.

The van drove on, the quiet in its interior making Ellis more and more nervous.

“Alpha! Heads up! Two vehicles entering your street! Heading towards you!” This was Guardian. Ellis shook herself, rose up and looked forward, peeking between the driver and the agent seated next to him. The cars were accelerating towards them,

“Guardian! I see the cult symbol on them! Take them out!” Ellis said. Her grip on the seats in front of her tightened as the vehicles drew closer.

***

“Range?”

“Five fifty!” The spotter said.

“Wind?”

“Ten clicks northwest.” Fred adjusted his aim carefully. The Mil dots on his sight enabled him to adjust his aim to compensate for range and wind.

“Humidity?”

“Thirty percent!” This was adjusted for as well; every atmospheric condition can affect the bullets’ trajectories. Fred made sure that the rifle’s recoil pad was securely pressed to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. A blast, unusually strong, echoed through the quiet night, as a cloud of smoke and gasses engulfed the agent. He ignored everything, concentrating only on the car in his scope.

Even though the dark blue Plymouth minivan’s front windshield was shattered, the car continued forward. Fred grimaced and lowered his aim point, aiming at the car’s right front wheel. Boom! Another blow to his shoulder and the spent cartridge flew sideways. The 12.7-millimeter caliber bullet sped forward. The right front wheel of the car flared as the bullet punctured it. The damage the high-energy bullet did to the car was enough to cause it to swerve, the bullet wrecking the tire, the axle and the suspension system. The car hit the sidewalk at high speed, overturned, doing several summersaults, and finally ended up upside down on the sidewalk, its three remaining wheels spinning.

The other car continued forward. The Alpha team driver tried to swerve, but the red boxy Buick slammed into the NSA van, throwing the agents inside around.

Ellis recovered quickly. There was another crash as the Buick backed off, its damaged front bumper falling down and smoke coming out of its partly open engine compartment.

The Buick raced towards the van again. The NSA van had climbed the sidewalk, but the driver couldn’t shake the Buick off. It slammed into them again, causing the van to crash into a workshop, the occupants of the van falling down inside it.

“Guardian,” Ellis said, struggling to get up.

“On it.” Fred aimed at the engine of the red Buick and fired several shots in rapid succession. The air on top of the hill filled with acrid gunfire smoke from the huge anti-material rifle fire. Fred saw the engine explode, the torn red hood springing up and flames coming out of the vehicle’s front engine compartment. The Buick slowed down, coasting without power, burning up.

“Target taken out,” Fred said.

“Roger,” Ellis said. She climbed forward and gripped the back of the front seat again.

“Go!” she told the driver. The driver put the van in gear and pressed down on the gas pedal. The Ford van moved forward, descending from the sidewalk into the road. A moment later the van hit its stride, the well of torque deepened and the van lunged forward. The driver immediately released the gas pedal and started to brake, slowing the van down. A large Dodge pickup truck had entered Elm Street, coming from Route 38. All doubts as to its intentions vanished as it accelerated towards the van, heading directly to it, its powerful headlights blindingly bright.

“Alpha, a Chevy SUV is heading right at you from the other direction.” It was guardian. Indeed, a black Chevrolet SUV was accelerating towards the black NSA van from the direction of the compound. The two vehicles had the van cornered.

“Guardian, take them out,” Ellis said. Then she looked around. “Go north, through the buildings!” Ellis ordered the driver.

“What?” the driver exclaimed.

“Just do it!” Ellis demanded.

***

Fred centered his sight on the SUV, aiming at the right front wheel.

“Wind up, twenty clicks,” the spotter said. Fred didn’t say anything, just adjusted his sight. He held his breath, aimed and fired. The bullet’s impact on the SUV caused a small explosion. Nevertheless, the SUV plowed on. Fred pressed the trigger again, but nothing happened.

“Damn! Empty!” He pressed the magazine release and the magazine fell out. The spotter offered him another magazine and he slammed it in and pulled the bolt carrier. He placed the rifle’s bipod legs back on the ground and aimed at the SUV. This time he fired continually. Multiple explosions rose from the vehicle’s roof as the large-caliber bullets slammed into it in rapid succession. It made a sharp left turn and crashed into a building, fire emerging from it and bricks from the stricken house falling on it. The right door, its window smashed, opened. Nobody came out of it, though.

***

Ellis held on as the Ford van made its way north through the various hangars and workshops in the small industrial part of town. The Ford heaved as it ran over smashed shed walls and equipment, the driver struggling to keep the van heading straight forward while its right axle swayed out of control. A fountain of sparks trailed the vehicle as it ran over something large.

The world spun crazily as the van flew sideways. The heavy Dodge Ram pickup truck slammed into the Ford from behind. The van came to a stop several moments later, on its roof. Ellis was groggy as cult members opened the door and Allan was taken away, protesting feebly. She shook her head and got up, realizing she was actually squatting on the roof of the van. An engine was heard outside, coming closer, its roar intensifying.

“Everybody out!” Ellis shouted. She kicked the back doors open and the six agents stumbled out of the van and into a smashed and smoking work shed. The pickup truck that had smashed into them vanished, but the headlights of another car approaching from Elm Street could be seen though the thin walls of the hangars, its headlights aiming up and down as the vehicle ran over debris.

“Move out!” Ellis called. The team moved out, yet two agents, one with a broken leg and another badly concussed, had to be supported by others.

“HQ, heading north on foot towards Foundry Street. Need pickup,” Ellis said.

“Roger, Alpha. Delta!”

“On it!” The leader of Delta team snapped.  

Ellis kept to the rear of the team, waiting for the car to approach. When its headlights emerged out of the rubble, she stopped, turned, raised her P90 and grasped it in a crouched firing position, peering through the sights. She moved the safety to automatic, aimed and squeezed the trigger. A fusillade of bullets shot out. Within a few seconds, the submachine gun had emptied the magazine with a zipper-like noise. The car moved on, unhindered.

Ellis grasped the magazine and threw it down. She fished out another one from a pouch and placed it on the top of the weapon. She pulled the cocking handle, took aim and fired. Both headlights went off, the windshield shattered and the car’s hood was riddled with bullets, and finally popped up. But the blue car stayed on course, aiming right at Ellis. The distance decreased to less than forty feet when the car shuddered. Multiple explosions were erupting all over the car, on its hood and over the passenger compartment. Flames erupted from inside the car as it slowed down, a flaming wreck on wheels, stopping just a few feet before hitting Ellis. Glass shards fell down from its smashed windows. There was a small pause and then the axles gave way; the car settled on the road, resting on its chassis.

“Alpha, told you bigger is better.”

“Roger that, Guardian.” Ellis turned and ran after her team. She threw down her spent magazine and slammed in a new one. As she heard more cars coming in from the direction of the compound, she drew the cocking bolt.

“HQ, Delta. Picking up Alpha now.”

“Copy that, Delta. Good work,” Agent Graham said. He tuned towards Thorpe. The young man was sitting hunched over his drone control. His eyes were blank and he was shaking, breathing rapidly, like a panting dog.

“Thorpe? Thorpe!” Agent Graham shook his head and left his console. He grabbed the young man by the shoulder.

“Thorpe! Thorpe! Listen to me! Don’t freak out! We need you! Check the area! Are there any other threats? Thorpe!” Thorpe blinked his eyes a few times. Finally his gaze went to his monitor. He manipulated the controls slowly, working in slow motion.

“Tell me if there is anything else, okay? You’re doing fine!” Graham left Thorpe’s side as the young man nodded uncertainly. Thorpe’s eyes were glued to the monitor. The monitor showed the drone’s altitude, the direction its payload was looking at and other indications. Thorpe ignored all of it. His eyes were glued to something that was coming down Route 38, heading towards its junction with Foundry Street.

“There’s a - there’s a -”“ Thorpe whispered, but Graham didn’t hear him.

***

“Alpha, Guardian. You have a truck coming your way!”

Ellis was crammed with her agents into the Delta team’s van. She leaned forward, staring over the front passenger seat.

“I heard, but there’s no other way out!” the van’s driver said. Then they saw it. The heavy white truck turned sharply into Foundry Street. There was some illumination on this street and they could all see the horned sign on the hood, its eyes facing them. The truck smashed into several street lamps, knocking them down without slowing down. Ellis stared at the dented rectangular grille at the front of the heavy truck as it approached them, its double stacks belching out smoke.

A series of small explosions erupted all over the hood of the truck, but it kept going. A moment later, more explosions erupted on the right fender of the truck, exploding the thick front right tire. The truck swerved and smashed into a parked car, mounting the Honda and flattening it without stopping. The truck’s driver brought it back under control and aimed it straight at the incoming NSA van. It surged on, the grinding noises of its axle on the street rivaling the roar of its 350-horse-power engine.

Ellis looked through the window on the back door of their Ford van. She could see the headlights of the cult vehicles coming up behind them. She looked closely at the white truck coming towards them. It was a steel-framed dump truck, capable of carrying more than 20 tons. The growl of its engine increased as the driver aimed the truck at them, the small flaps at the tops of the exhaust ports moving continuously.