could we be possibly flying in something that doesn’t officially exist?”
“You’re right,” She followed his train of thought with a half-smile and a nod. “We couldn’t possibly be flying in something that doesn’t officially exist.”
“Exactly my point, ma’am,” The co-pilot replied.
“How silly of me,” Molly almost gave him a wink.
“Not at all, Miss Hunter.”
*
“Coming up on the Dixie, sir,” The lead vehicle spoke briefly into the radio.
The Commander sat up in his hatch and pulled the night vision glasses up to his eyes. The ride had been slow and steady. The lack of road signs on the Gene Snyder Freeway had created a nagging sensation that they were lost. Finally, a green sign had announced:
VALLEY STATION NEXT RIGHT,
Below it, a brown sign added as an afterthought:
PATTON MUSEUM NEXT RIGHT,
They were heading in the right direction. The only other sign of life in the last 30 minutes had been two sentries at Woodbridge Drive who had waved at their column, assuming they were friendlies. The Commander waved back casually and the facade had been maintained.
Terminate with extreme prejudice. The order stuck into his core as a proud man and Commander. All that guy had done was take a picture. Did they really give him that order? The real truth was a few layers deeper inside him. Did you really follow it? He pondered the roadway and its occasional wretched figure among the ruins. What will they ask you to do next? He inhaled and tried to find himself. You need to ask yourself, where will you draw the line?
You could draw a million lines in the sand. But what do you do when they are crossed? An inconclusive sigh was the only answer for now.
They had decided on US Route 31 West because of its relative lack of towns nearby. There were few prying eyes and far less traffic to run into. The rusted wreckage on the highway and in ditches and fields nearby seemed to blend into the landscape. After a while they began to take on the same familiarity of scrub brush and cactus in a desert scene, part of the surroundings, but hardly noticeable.
The vehicles cornered slowly and descended from the Gene Snyder Freeway to the Dixie (US Route 31) below. The Commander allowed his gaze to rest on the freeway’s bridge above the Dixie. An eighteen wheeler and its trailer were suspended almost straight up from the bridge to the highway below. The cabin had been crushed on impact. The trailer was vertical in the air. He allowed himself a moment to marvel at this defiance of all things gravitational.
The Commander had a harder time ignoring the figures that seemed to sway forward at the sound of his convoy. A woman with the same chestnut brown hair color of his wife stood at the side of the road and watched his approach with a hint of curiosity. As he passed by her head swiveled suddenly and she bared her teeth at him and hissed. He had a chance second to look into the pus yellow and black orbs of her eyes. It was like falling into a pit of darkness and forever.
What happened if you looked into those eyes for too long? What would you see? It was a second of vertigo insanity, a dizzying seizure that threatened to spread through his system and take control. He was suddenly very cold.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “I’ll never get used to them.”
“Yes sir.” Someone quietly agreed over the radio. Some chills were universal.
*
“Don’t you think we’ve played this game long enough?” The soldier Molly had first spoken to finally found his voice again.
“I don’t play games, Mister....?” Molly replied.
“Hatch, Lieutenant Hatch.” He almost seemed to spit out the words.
“Alright, Lieutenant Hatch.” She gave him a full on stare. “I don’t play games.”
“Ma’am,” the co-pilot she had spoken to earlier craned his neck back to their conversation. He was trying to be the peace maker with a polite tone. “I think all Hatch is asking for is a reference point.”
She watched the co-pilot carefully for a second while he added: “I don’t think that’s really asking for too much, ma’am.”
There was a pause in the air while he waited for her reply.
“Do you know the Gene Snyder Freeway near Louisville?” Molly broke the silence.
“Got it,” he turned quickly and started to access a computer screen.
“They were spotted on the freeway south of Louisville near a place called Poplar Level Road.” Molly spoke while the co-pilot nodded his head and typed the words into the navigational system.
“Okay,” he finally gave her a smile. “We got it.”
“Miss Hunter,” it was Hatch now. He tone had become more respectful. Clearly, he was picking up on the co-pilot’s cue. “It would also help if we knew what we were up against.”
“Why should I trust you?” Molly’s eyes were suspicious. An arched eyebrow was added to her expression for good measure.
“Well,” Hatch paused and calmly explained, “If we meet something unexpected we all get shot down together.”
Molly saw his point. It was time to throw her hand in. Her fingers fished into her Louis Vuiton and found the cold plastic of her Blackberry. She tapped the screen and found the Deacon’s photo and passed it over.
“I’m sure you know what this is.” Molly pointed at the eight wheeled, beetle like machine.
“Strykers.” Hatch nodded his head. “They’re called Strykers.”
“Can they kill us?” Molly tried to keep her voice calm.
“Yes they can.”
*
The rain had been replaced by a clear canopy of stars. The Milky Way was slowly rising in the east as they proceeded down the Dixie. The lack of lights and his darkness sensitive eyes allowed him to pick out the black galactic clouds and stars that gathered in the air like magic dust. He had once heard that there was a bubble of radio and television signals expanding outward from this lonely blue marble in space. Was anyone listening? What would they think of us? His mouth opened for a poetic moment at the thought. Are they out there? The thought gave way to an infinite understanding to the vastness of the concept.
If they are, he brought himself back to the present. What did they think when all those signals began to take on an urgency and panic before winking out. There was something to ponder one night. Would they understand why?
Perhaps this was all even happening to them..........
Is anybody listening? The division between north and south traffic disappeared and the highway merged to one as they pressed on. The skeletal trees on his left were silent witness to the darkness and stars above.
The trees.......
His
