Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (38 page)

“Move it, Jim, or we’re dead!” Montoya yelled. The driver pushed the accelerator pedal down as far as it would go, pulling the shift transfer lever savagely. Montoya ducked instinctively as the branches of a low hanging tree whipped across the front windshield. Then he immediately looked back. That head, larger than their two-ton vehicle, was almost upon them.

Montoya watched, dumbfounded. The massive armored head was drifting gently right and left with a snake-like, undulating motion. The elongated nostrils at the sides of the snout were gulping in air, barely revealing a fiery inferno inside. Reimer was sitting with his head between his knees, his hands over his head, wailing softly. The wide jaws moved slightly, flexing the huge muscles at the sides of the head. Montoya gripped the backseat tightly, but the massive maw did not open to unleash a firestorm. Instead, a forked tongue snaked out, almost reaching the Hummer.

Montoya opened his mouth. The giant armored head suddenly rose up and vanished from his field of view. Montoya turned to open his window to look up, when several things happened at once. Jim turned the steering wheel savagely to the left, trying to get off the hill. Montoya glimpsed something huge descending from above with huge armored scales and sharp talons. Everything turned to chaos. The world spun madly, sky and earth confused. Shouts erupted in the Hummer, most of them coming from Montoya. The safety belt dug painfully into his chest, causing him to exhale all the air in his lungs. Rocks and earth showered them, flying all around the vehicle.

A moment later all was still. The Hummer came to rest on its roof. Montoya shook his head and released the clasp of his seatbelt. He fell to the roof and forced the door open, kicking it with his boots. He collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. He looked up fearfully, crouching on all fours. There was nothing but a starry sky above him. Suddenly, Montoya clutched at the earth. A huge rumble rolled across the night, a lazy, content purring, like a gargantuan cat feeling pleased with itself. The purring grew steadily fainter as it drifted to the northwest, back towards the Flattop Mountains.

***

Benson rose up. The rock had saved him from the wall of fire, but he coughed and had to put out a smoking patch on his overalls. He looked around dazedly. The ground around him had been transformed into a burnt, ash-filled area. He walked a few step forward, getting out from under the cover of his rock. Small fires were burning all over; the air was filled with black smoke and numerous glowing sparks. Benson looked towards the base. There was almost nothing left there, no sign of the lights, makeshift structures, men or vehicles.

A small chirp sounded behind him. Benson turned around, a smile forming on his face. The nine small lizards emerged from beneath the rock where they had hidden in small crevices and crannies. Benson looked at them carefully. They seemed unharmed, but a little agitated. Benson’s smile widened. He knelt down, hand extended. The small, broken-tailed wizard darted towards him, its colors changing rapidly, head and tail held high. However, it stopped before reaching Benson.

The man looked at it. The tiny lizard was looking intently onwards, to the west of the base. There, small pools of molten metal were still smoldering, where the base’s wire fence once stood. The tiny lizard stood rigidly, a tiny growl escaping it. Its color turned orange, which was quickly followed by a bright red. Benson looked at the other lizards. They, too, were all looking in the same direction. These lizards, however, were assuming a pale, almost white color. They were retreating slowly, heading back towards the crannies under the rock. Benson looked out, trying to see what had gotten the lizards upset, a cold sweat forming on his back.

There was nothing to see on the ash-and-fire-filled area. Black smoke was rising up, obscuring everything. Benson’s eyes scanned the area. He couldn’t see anything, but he still looked intently. He had felt something, something that made him sweat. Gradually, he started to see things. Movement. Something was out there, moving towards them. Straining his eyes, Benson managed to make out a long, superbly camouflaged snakelike thing, stepping unharmed through the small fires and heading towards him and the lizards. It was another creature, twenty to twenty-five feet long. He saw it looking at the lizards, opening its jaws, its tongue licking its fangs hungrily.

Benson, shivering, moved forward. He felt the eyes of the monster on him, but he stood his ground, standing before the rock, placing himself between the large creature in front and the tiny creatures behind him. The thing stopped. Benson felt pressure, as if something was trying to force him to move away. He planted his feet and stood defiantly, back straight and eyes staring forward at an area some fifty yards away, where he could see a small irregularity in the flow of smoke. Eyes suddenly blazed out of the darkness, bright green orbs with dark vertical pupils. Benson didn’t dare to breath or blink. He could see himself reflected in those green eyes, small and meaningless, a pale weak thing compared to the monster before him.

Suddenly, the feeling of pressure abated. The creature moved away, slinking through the decimated terrain, its thick armor protecting him from the fires still burning here and there. Benson slumped down, breathing hard and sweating profusely. The tiny creatures gathered all around him, except the shy one who still kept some distance away. The small, cheeky creature with the broken tail mounted Benson’s boot and squeaked away in defiance into the darkness, now that the creature had moved away.

***

Mathew stood beside Captain Anderson. The left side of Mathew’s face was raw and his fatigues were smoking. He was silent. The first morning light exposed the black, burnt earth where once a camp had stood. Everything was covered in soot, and smoke was pouring out of the ground. Red-hot patches still radiated heat where vehicles or tents once had been. The devastation encompassed the whole camp. Nothing was left standing, and even the pavement road they had used as a strip for the drones was mostly melted.

“It blew once and then it headed back to the mountains. Only once,” Anderson said, his voice flat. He had driven back from his position on one of the hills and his Hummer’s engine was still running.

“I’ve called Emergency Medical Services,” Anderson said softly. Mathew didn’t say anything. His eyes were on a figure slowly approaching out of the darkness and narrowed as he made out the small, baby lizards clinging on to Benson, one tiny dragon on his shoulder gazing majestically about, his scales the same color as Benson’s uniform.

Mathew walked over the Benson, his eyes full of rage. The little lizard hissed at Mathew angrily. Mathew raised his hand and the lizard puffed smoke at him, black tendrils streaming out of its mouth. Mathew looked at the lizard, seeing drops of flame flowing out of its nose and then stepped back as the lizard drew a deep breath, raised its head, and spewed a jet of fire two feet long out of its mouth.

“Mister, you’re going to tell me everything,” Mathew growled, his eyes never leaving Benson’s eyes, Mathew’s sidearm pointed straight at Benson’s forehead.

Day 17 after Earth Barrier Breach.

County Road 17 outside Owego, Tioga County, New York State, United States. Wednesday, 08:34.

Three black NSA Ford vans, three police cars and two big SWAT trucks pulled up next to the police patrol cars that were blocking the entrance into Division Street from Road 17, part of the huge blockade around the town. Thorpe looked around. The grass and trees at the entrance to Owego were swaying madly, as winds moved through them, raising clouds of dust. Thorpe looked up. A power line was dancing madly, the cable almost bursting free of its fastenings. Flashes of lightning were painting the whole landscape with bright, lurid colors. Ellis passed near Thorpe, waving at him. She was wearing her armor vest and toting a P90 submachine gun. Several agents followed her, as they headed out towards the outskirts of the town and Division Street.

“Ellis, you and Bravo head forward. Don’t open fire unless provoked,” Agent Graham told her. Ellis nodded and moved out. The director, Agent Graham, the county police chief, and the SWAT team leader stood at the front of the blockade. Division Street, the entrance into the town, was mostly empty of any apartment buildings. Trees lined it and it had only a few small structures, mostly workshops. Ellis and her team advanced along the street, using whatever cover was available, and taking up positions on either side of the street, behind trees and the corners of structures.

“Sir! You can’t let them go in alone! We are highly trained negotiators!” a large, bull-necked SWAT leader said. The director looked at the man for a moment and then nodded towards Agent Graham.

“Okay, you’ll join us. Coordinate your radio frequencies and follow our orders. I repeat, you’re under our command,” Agent Graham said.

“Sir, yes sir!” The SWAT team leader replied happily. He turned back to his trucks.

“Men! Saddle up! We’re going in!” A few moments later about twenty SWAT officers stormed in after the NSA agents, the squat SWAT leader at the front. They were running forward in military precision, their steps coordinated. Graham watched them and shook his head. He spoke into his microphone.

“Alpha, HQ. You’re receiving some reinforcement. Flank guard duty only.”

“Roger, HQ.”

***

Ellis looked behind her. She saw the SWAT officers running towards her. She motioned for them to take cover and the SWAT team leader joined her.

“Look, I have some experience with them. I hope they will try to talk. We will keep them talking for as long as we can. You don’t do anything unless I say so. You got that, blue boy?” Ellis said, staring at the helmeted SWAT leader.

“Yes, sir!”

“We have a sniper on that hill, code name Guardian. Don’t get in his line of fire. Fan out and keep low. I want my flanks secured,” Ellis snapped. The SWAT team scattered, taking shelter where they could. Ellis frowned as she looked at them.

***

“Alpha, Guardian. Your visitors are fifty yards ahead, just beyond the bend.” Fred was in his old position on the hill overlooking Owego that was about four hundred yards away from the Highway 17 entrance into Owego’s Division Street. Whatever was about to happen would take place between two hundred and fifty to three hundred yards below him. He was using a Leopold daylight scope. He adjusted his position, making sure he was comfortable. His spotter was using an M49 telescope - lower magnification but a larger field of view - to search for targets.

“Looks like they got that mini-drone up again,” the spotter commented. Fred ignored him. His scope was locked on the procession advancing towards Ellis.

***

“Alpha, HQ. You got UAV coverage,” Ellis heard in her earphone. She looked up, but couldn’t see the drone in the boiling black clouds above.

“HQ, monitor the town. We can handle whatever comes this way.”

“Roger, Alpha.” Agent Graham turned towards Thorpe. The red-haired analyst was controlling his mini-drone through his laptop. This time the drone was fitted with a small daylight camera.

“Take the drone over town. They got the situation here covered.”

“
No problemo
, dude,” Thorpe said. He moved the small joystick and the drone banked, heading out towards the town at 60 miles per hour.

“Hey, you all right?” Agent Graham put his hand on Thorpe’s shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Thorpe said, not looking up. Agent Graham watched him for a moment and then looked towards Division Street. Thorpe’s hand on the joystick of the little drone was almost steady. He tried to take deep breaths. Some of the panic that gripped him during the night had lessened, though Mathew’s report of the attack on his camp had shaken Thorpe badly. The analyst was determined to hold it together this time, people depended on him. Ellis -

***

Ellis studied the people behind her, both the NSA agents and the SWAT team. She made sure everybody was behind cover, M16 assault rifles and P90 submachine guns aimed forward.

“Nobody does anything without me saying so!” she snapped, holding her hand over the transducer in her ear. She turned her attention forward. A group of people began to appear, walking down the middle of the street. The winds chose that moment to intensify and Ellis narrowed her eyes. There was no doubt that these more-than-fifty men and women walking in one long column were cult members. Ellis saw that they were holding their arms high. She was sure they were chanting, as they had done in the square when they confronted the bikers.

At the head of the group walked a single individual, wearing the same long, gray gown and bull head mask Ellis had seen on the hill on the night of the trial. It held the long metal rod with the Stormgod sign at the top.

Ellis’s eyes were drawn to what moved behind the individual. A group of four men carried a platform holding a gray metal statue, an idol, its head a large horned bullhead. Ellis couldn’t help but notice that the bull’s huge jaws were set with large, rectangular teeth. Its nostrils were wide and its eyes were deep-set and almost invisible. Its big horns were long and sharp, massive instruments of war. The men carrying it were struggling under its weight. It was a majestic, powerful form. Ellis checked her P90, making sure again it was loaded.

“Stop right there! Lie down with your hands behind your heads!” Ellis shouted. The men carrying the platform stopped, causing the long column to stop as well. Ellis blinked. She didn’t really think it would be this easy.

“Lie down! Hands behind your heads!” Ellis shouted. The robed figured walked forward a few more yards and removed its helmet.

“Ellis.” It was Allan.

“HQ, this is Alpha.”

“Go ahead, Alpha.”

“I’ll go talk to them. Maybe I can avoid bloodshed.”

“Wait one, Alpha.” Ellis looked on. Allan waited calmly. He was composed and calm, as if he had come to terms with some kind of decision.

“Alpha, HQ. Go ahead.”

“Roger, HQ” Ellis said. She pulled the charging handle of her P90, softly, cocking the weapon. She made sure the safety was on and then adjusted the strap of the weapon to transfer it to her back.

“You’re not going out there alone, are you?” That was the SWAT team leader.

“I am. Don’t do anything.”

“Let one of us come with you!”

“No! Stay here and await orders!” Ellis snapped. She took a deep breath and stood up, coming out from behind the shed she had used as cover. She walked towards Allan slowly, not making any sudden moves.

“Alpha, have you lost what little sense you were born with?”

“Guardian, you know I never had any. I hope your aim is as good as ever,” Ellis whispered, the transducer in her ear picking up her words and transmitting them through the radio she was wearing.

***

“Range”?”

“Two eighty-five!”

Fred adjusted his aim a little, raising his sight. He looked down for a moment, making sure the heavy rifle’s bipod was standing on firm ground. He stretched his feet and immediately brought his eye back to the optic sight. He rested his finger on the trigger. The gray-clad individual was right the middle of Fred’s crosshairs, aiming at the chest as it was harder to miss the chest than the head because a small deviation would still insure a hit on the target’s center mass and the large caliber bullets would incapacitate with any hit.

“Just try to be polite for once, will you, Alpha?” Fred said into his mike. His aim was rock steady. He kept the crosshairs on the symbol on Allan’s chest.

***

“They were hiding the idol in their temple!” Thorpe said to himself, listening in on Ellis’s report. He shook his head and grabbed the Raven’s joystick with a trembling hand. He was sitting in one of the Ford vans, in front of his Raven control computer. He held the joystick a bit tighter for a moment, and then let go. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“Hold it together, Thorpe my boy! Don’t fall apart, again! She is depending on you!” Thorpe murmured to himself. His hand grasped the joystick again, but it shook. He pulled his hand away and closed it.

“What is she going to think, ah? That you’re a wimp? Come on, Thorpe!” He touched the joystick again, but his hand was shaking so badly that the picture shook as the drone received the motions transmitted by the shaking joystick. Suddenly, something made Thorpe lean forward. He grasped the joystick with his hand and the distant drone banked sharply, engine whine growing as Thorpe manipulated the small throttle. A black cloud formation was descending into town. It looked like a developing tornado that was reaching out its black funnel towards the uncompleted temple in the middle of the cult’s compound, fierce lightning dancing all around it.

***

“Allan!”

“Ellis.” They stood a few yards away from each other, silent. Allan held the bull mask in his hands.

“Allan, listen to me. I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you must -”

“Ellis, you gave me no choice. You would not leave us alone. The federal authorities of the United States would not leave us alone. You don’t understand that in a few weeks none of this will matter.” Ellis saw his eyes staring at her, sad but determined.

“Allan, listen! You must give in! You will all be killed along with a lot of innocent people. Do you want that? Is that how you’re helping people?” Ellis said. Allan was quiet for a moment then extended his hand forward.

“Guardian, it’s all right!” Ellis hurriedly said.

“Ellis, don’t stand in our way. We are leaving this town. We must move on,” Allan said. He raised his eyes towards the horizon, looking beyond Ellis and the cars blocking the road. Ellis could still hear the cult members chanting, “
Aliyan Baal Addar!
” over and over again. Ellis moved forward, never taking her eyes away from Allan. He didn’t move.

“Listen, Allan. What do you think you’re doing here? Think of the lives of your people! Think of the lives of the townspeople! Give in!” Ellis said. Allan looked at her sadly. He looked behind her, watching the agents and the SWAT members crouching behind their cover, weapons aimed at him. His eyes hardened. He put back the metallic bull mask on his head and turned away, walking back towards his people.

“Wait!”

Allan kept walking.

“Allan, think for a moment. You are leading these people to their deaths! Allan, I know you don’t want this. I know you only want what is good for the people! Let me help you. It can still be all right!” Ellis implored. Allan stopped and turned towards Ellis, who thought that Allan’s gray, metal bull mask was twisting with rage, the wide nostrils quivering, the sharp horns aching for someone to kill.

“It will be all right? It will be all RIGHT?” Allan thundered, taking a step towards Ellis. “You forced me! I thought that people might come to understand peacefully, but you people only understand force! Well, today you will see more force than you ever saw in your life!” Allan raised his hand to the skies.

“How are you better than the bikers you stopped?” Ellis asked quietly. Allan’s hand dropped to his side and he lowered his head.

“How am I better? I do what needs to be done to protect humankind. You left me no choice. You forced me!” Allan’s eyes inside the mask flared again. “We brought you in, showed you our ways and you stabbed us in the back. Akrabu!”

Ellis took a step back.

“You left me no choice. For the good of the many, the few have to be sacrificed. The idol must be fed. The price for the salvation of humankind will be steep,” Allan finished with a whisper. He turned and walked towards the cultists.

Ellis shook her head and headed back to the NSA and SWAT team’s positions.

“HQ, Alpha. No luck, HQ. Heading back.”

“Roger, Alpha.” Ellis kept looking back at the cult members still standing on the street.

***

Thorpe watched the funnel reach downwards towards the ground. He frowned. Static interference was mounting, creating a white electronic blizzard on his screen. There was no one in the compound. Thorpe started recording the drone’s video output. The funnel was opening, unlike anything Thorpe had seen on TV. Thorpe clutched the screen in fright as a bright flash danced on it. An explosion echoed, louder then it should have. Thorpe instinctively ducked, then looked outside. The policemen had their M16 rifles pointed at Division Street, as did Agent Graham. They all took cover behind cars except for the director, who stood erect, gazing towards the town.