“Good.“ The Commander liked confidence in his people, especially when they could back it up. He finally addressed his main concern: “Ubaid?”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ve got a bit of hunch.” He confided. “Break out our SLSAMS.”
“Of course, sir.”
Shoulder Launched Surface to Air Missiles were easy to store and every Stryker in the convoy had a few. They looked like shortened bazookas that were fired at their targets. They were a huge equalizer for surface vehicles against their whirling nemesis, the attack chopper. In combat readiness they were laid out beside the hatch of each vehicle. The target would only be there for a second.
The Commander gave silent thanks that high tech weaponry had either been used up or had worn out by now. If not, there was a good chance a missile could be launched from miles away, guided in by satellite technology to land within a few feet of the target. It was a terrifying thought. For all the training and armament you possessed, you were just a stick figure on someone’s screen a thousand miles away. War had always been bloody. Now it was impersonal. It felt like a slap in the face of tradition, less honorable. The Commander was discarding the thought when his conscience reminded him: you’re talking about honor after giving an order to kill a civilian?
The world felt like it was closing in. The trees rustled in a careless breeze and seemed to mutter a reply. Maybe the decisions are just getting harder as the lines between what is right and wrong grow more opaque. Enough, stop it.
“Sir, this is Birk.” His words were like short barks from a dog.
“Go ahead.”
“We’re coming up on the bridge, sir.” Birk sounded vaguely distracted. Flying the tiny camera laden toys could sometimes be a chore. “We’re coming up nice and easy like you said.”
“Sir?” A voice interrupted. “This is Ubaid.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry sir.” Ubaid herself was off mic. It was like she was looking around while speaking. “There has been some activity back here.”
“What is it?” His instinct began to rise like a wolf sensing danger.
“I thought I heard a noise.” Ubaid explained, she was trying to articulate a feeling that was more than just the jitters. It was her command intuition rising. “It was a sound. Then it was gone.”
“What else?”
“Yes sir,” Ubaid continued. “When I heard it, I looked at those things in the road....”
“....and?”
“They all looked in the same direction behind us,” Ubaid’s voice was still the same in volume, but the intensity level was way up. “They definitely heard it, too.”
“Sir, this is Birk.” His voice had taken on a rapid fire tonality.
“Go....”
“Three figures on the bridge.” Birks’ voice was a deeper shade of concentration. There was a pause before he blurted out: “Shit sir, they’re spotters, calling in our position.”
“INCOMING!” It was Ubaid’s assistant at high volume.
The helicopter flew in low right down the roadway from behind, it had to dodge the vertical truck on the bridge so the attack vector was a bit off for missile fire but the rotary cannon growled like a chained dog. The armor piercing bullets ripped through the thin steel on top of the Stryker and slashed around in the cabins like a madman with a knife. The cries were not high pitched screams of pain. They were muffled grunts of surprise before eyes closed forever.
A second modern Valkyrie passed over the trees at Ubaid’s left, she grabbed the SLSLAM and pulled the trigger, there was a blast of hot air and a hard slap from the launch that tossed her backward. She kept the barrel and her eyes focused on the blackened shape passing overhead. A second gasp of fire in front of her vehicle betrayed the launch of another missile.
There was silence in chaos. All that seemed to matter was the black form turning and crossing back toward the highway for a second run at the front of the column. Dacia Ubaid remembered as a child watching her grandmother take a white thread and slide it into a needle. The vision was almost identical to her in a dream like deja-vu moment. Two slender white threads of rocket fuel headed towards a black needle in the sky. One of the missiles found an exhaust vent just near the rear blades.
A flash sparkled in her eyes and the helicopter snapped in two like a toy. The pilot’s compartment pitched forward and fell canopy first into the highway and crashed among cars, vans and bodies. A fiery wall roared outwards toward the column with the concussion close behind. A single scarecrow figure in the road lurched around to watch in curiosity as the wall of flame engulfed his long dead body. The eyes burned away as liquefied skin began to roll down his face. Still, what was left stood solid in the flames and waited for instinct to dictate the next move.
Steel and asphalt began to explode all around Ubaid and her assistant as whirling helicopter blades made her dive for cover. There was a searing moment of agony and her vision became blurred and speckled with red.
“DOWN!” Someone screamed. The Commander thought it was his own voice as he slammed his top hatch shut and took cover inside.
“Go! Go! Forward to the bridge at best speed,” His machine lurched into a higher gear and the Stryker’s engine roared with eight wheels grinding the pavement.
“Jesus!” His driver swore while accelerating. There were pops in the distance getting closer. Was that gunfire? Were the choppers back? A second wave of fire made his driver blink and hood his eyes.
Gas tanks, the road was filled with old vehicles that started going up like a cluster of roman candles.
*
“Whoa!” It was the usually calm and silent pilot. His exclamation was a muscle reaction.
What he saw was like a meteor in slow motion. A quickly expanding fireball that suddenly grew an orange red blazing trail as it dropped earthwards. Within the heartbeat of a second, one or two orange mushrooms sprouted close to the ground and reached skywards before fading into the darkness. A sinister glow was rapidly spreading where the mushrooms had appeared. It was like a forest fire. His memory from news programs from years ago helped to fill in the blanks.
Molly’s eyes were alert in a second and watching the flickering orange firelight. The edges seemed to spread outwards like it was alive. Feeding, consuming and growing in strength. It was far enough away to hide details amid shadow and darkness. But it was close enough to be easily identified.
“Could that be them?” Molly finally spoke as her curiosity sought an outlet.
“You tell us, little lady.” Hatch was by her side now and a head taller watching the fire. He turned a few inches toward the co-pilot. “How far away is that?”
“Just a few miles,” The co-pilot was watching the orange glow that looked more and more like coals from a fire pit. “It could be them. They might have run into the Kentucky National Guard.”
“Wouldn’t somebody have told you that they had seen them?” Molly inquired.
“We’re not supposed to be here, ma’am.” Hatch replied without taking his eyes from the glow. “Besides, chain of command can be a little slow with that kind of information.”
“Slow?”
“Sounds like you have your reporter hat back on, little lady.” His face revealed a touch of sarcasm. “I think I’ll just answer by saying no comment.”
Molly mirrored his facial expression and stared him down in the shadows for a few seconds. His face had a sense of cruel irony to it. It was etched with muscular lines that had been drawn tight over an ever thickening emotional skin. Molly slowly looked away toward