Armageddon?? (85 page)

The
molten rock literally exploded out of nowhere, the unstable portal hurling
great sprays of magma in every direction. Many who’d seen the images of the portal
opening over Sheffield had remarked on the eerie beauty of the hellish
fountain, unfolding in its first few seconds like a giant deadly firework. This
attack was different, a raging beast that seemed to lashed out at random
without symmetry or reason. Gloria winced as the first gouts of lava reached
the bottom of their arcs, smashing into buildings with a spray of fire and
rubble. The freeway intersection collapsed and disappeared in a vast cloud of
smoke, peppered with tiny gouts of fire as gasoline flash-vaporized and
exploded. For a full ten seconds the scene unfolded in silence, save for the
screams and yells of the people in the restaurant. Glasses and plates began to
rattle and fell as the first seismic vibrations made their way up the building.
Then the shockwave hit, an overpowering roar overlaid on a deep rumble that
seemed to grab Gloria’s guts and shake them in her torso.

“We’ve
got to get out of here! Mom, come on, let’s go!” Her son had grabbed her
shoulders and was trying to pull her up.

“Lawrence.
Lawrence! Look at that crowd.” Lunchtime was the busiest period for the Coach
Insignia and now it seemed that nearly everyone was trying to jam themselves
through the doors at once. Some of the staff were shouting, gesturing, trying
to control the flow but without much success.

“You
watch the news, you know what happened in England." Gloria was shouting
hoarsely, to be heard over the din. "That lava will flow downhill,
straight towards us. I’ll never get out in time, not with my arthritis.”

Her
son just stood there, stunned. “We can’t leave you…”

“Of
course you can! You have to save your kids! Now move!” Gloria shoved his arms
away.

Lawrence
Hurst’s face was full of anguish, but his mother’s reasoning was indisputable.
In the distance he could see the lava already beginning to flow down the trench
the freeway sat in, heading for the river - and downtown. He hugged her
tightly. “Goodbye mom.” Then he was gone, trying to force a path through the
crowd for his family, his wife dragging their screaming children behind them.
Gloria turned back to the window, tears streaming down her face. The tears were
not for herself; oh, fear was welling up inside her, and frankly she hoped the
building would collapse before the fire got to her. The tears though, they were
for her city, which had suffered so much and struggled so hard to rebuild, only
to have its heart burnt out by a war that nobody could even have imagined just
a few months ago.

GM-Cadillac
Hamtramck Assembly Plant, Detroit

It
had been a hell of a job to get the plant converted over in two months flat, as
much for training the workers as the retooling. Jake suspected that the Army
already had a plan for the switch ready before the Message, because once the
word was given the work started almost immediately – and went on 16 hours a
day, 7 days a week, UAW be damned. Somehow they’d pulled it off and now the
triple-one sevens were rolling off the line. Production was already up to ten
units a day and still increasing. His section was responsible for wiring and
accessory fit and they’d had some pretty horrible QC issues while the new
workers were broken in. Jake O’Reilly’s temper was legendary at the plant, but
truly he didn’t mind the hours or the problems; it was worth it to see his
people so energized and the factory back at full capacity. The triple-one seven
wasn’t as tough as a Bradley, but it was a huge step up from a Humvee and a
hell of a lot easier to build than the Stryker. If the Army kept kicking
Baldrick butt (armies even – couldn’t forget the Ruskies and the Brits, Jake
thought), then they’d be a lot of escort and patrol missions coming up, and the
‘hell-model’ Guardian was the ideal tool for that job.

The
attack came without warning; the factory floor was too noisy to hear the
gunfire outside, and the management were still arguing on the phones when the
portal opened. Tons of molten rock crashed through the roof, spraying onto
sections of the line below. Sizable sections of the plant were destroyed within
the first ten seconds, and fires began spreading immediately through the
remainder. Shockwaves battered the staff as shrapnel zinged through the air,
combining with the heaving ground to leave many workers in a state of
shell-shock. After Sheffield everyone had been told that this might happen, the
most pessimistic staff had even expected it, but nothing could prepare them for
the reality of having a volcano appear in the sky nearby. Jake’s first thought
was to get his people out. His second thought was to save as many vehicles as
he could. His third thought was that these goals combined nicely.

“Listen,
all of you…” It was useless, the roar was overpowering. Fortunately since the
new workers had been put on the line Jake had been keeping a megaphone close at
hand. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d used it to stop some
butterfingered technician about to burn out a wiring harness; now he cranked
the volume to the max and used it to save their lives.

“LISTEN,
ALL OF YOU. TAKE ANY VEHICLE THAT CAN DRIVE AND GET CLEAR. THERE ARE PLENTY IN
THE TESTING AREA. IT’S YOUR BEST HOPE FOR SURVIVING THE ROCKS AND THE SMOKE.”

The
burning rocks seemed to have stopped coming for now, and Jake used the respite
to herd his team into the nearly completed vehicles. The power had gone out,
throwing the factory floor into a hazy twilight filled with screams, shouts and
running forms. “TODD’S TRAPPED, YOU THREE, PULL HIM OUT OF THERE. RICK, IT JUST
NEEDS FUEL, GET SOME DAMN DIESEL AND DRIVE HER OUT.”

The
Guardians were roaring to life and starting to move, knocking equipment aside
as they sought any open path out of the chaos. Jake looked around – all of his
staff seemed to have gone save a few huddled in a still unfuelled M1117. The
smoke was already too thick to see the other sections…

The
brief respite ended as a fresh wave of flying lava crashed into the plant. Jake
fell to his knees, dazed by the impact of a trolley propelled by the blast. His
eyes were swimming and his throat burned with the heat and the toxic smoke. He
couldn’t see the Guardian… he hadn’t heard it leave, but he couldn’t see it… he
struggled to regain his feet but the shaking, cracking floor seemed to defeat
his efforts.

A
hand gripped his wrist and pulled him up. It was Todd, and Jake had never been
so grateful to see the spiky-haired brat. “She’s fueled up boss, let’s go.”
Jake was half-dragged, half-clambered through the door of the Guardian. The
cabin was filled with injured workers, and someone was already in the driver’s
seat, because no sooner was he on board than the engine roared to life and the
armored car pulled away. Flames licked at the windows as the vehicle sped
through the factory, crashing through the wreckage of jigs and component bins
as it made for the doors. Then they were clear, rolling across the huge parking
lot, surrounded by a mass of other vehicles trying to escape the destruction.
Lava continued to rain down, destroying some of the cars even as they watched,
but luck smiled on their Guardian and they were soon out of range.

Jake
leaned forward to address the driver. “Get us up to the Davison intersection.
The VDF are bound to set up a checkpoint there, we can drop off our wounded and
refuel. They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

White
House Situation Room, Washington D.C.

“Sir,
it’s Detroit. City’s been hit hard, the attack started just a few minutes ago.”

“Let’s
hear it John. In a hundred words or less, please.”

“Mr.
President, the Baldricks hit Detroit with a lava attack. As far as we can see
right now, it’s the same mechanism as Sheffield, but bigger and nastier. We
shot down the spotter demon, but the portal still opened. We’ve got something
like forty thousand tons of lava a second falling out of the sky a couple of
miles north of downtown.” Secretary Warner paused for a moment, gathering his
thoughts.

“The
Cadillac plant took a hell of a beating and Wayne State has already become a
firestorm. The freeway trenches are channeling the lava; we can’t stop it
before it reaches the river. In the next half hour we’re going to lose the
Renaissance Center, plus the tunnel and the bridge to Windsor. As for
casualties… haven’t got an estimate yet, but worst case is well into six
figures.”

“You
know, Detroit is the Democrat-voting stronghold of Michigan, if it’s gone, then
it might be enough to flip the state into our column.”

There
was a stunned silence in the room. Eventually President Bush’s voice cut
through the disbelief, pitched low and frighteningly cold. “Karl, shut up, just
shut up. John, could you continue please.”

“Personnel
at DIMO(N) detected the portal activity at 12:43 Eastern. NORAD was informed
immediately of course. We vectored in F-16s from the 127th out of Selfridge,
they flew up on full reheat but the local United States Volunteers got to the
co-ordinates first. As far we can tell, they sighted a demon of the same type
that the Sheffield footage shows, what General Abigor calls a ‘gorgon’. Local
citizens already had it under fire when the USV shot it down with triple-A.
Unfortunately the damn things seem to be salvage fused.”

Blank
faces stared back at him. “It’s a nuclear warfare term, it means… never mind.
The point is, shooting down the gorgon seems to cause the portal to open
prematurely. We bought some time to evacuate, but not nearly enough to save
everyone. Sadly the LDV unit was directly under the portal when it opened; they
were killed instantly.”

Bush
stopped glaring and his face softened from his barely suppressed anger at the
earlier remarks. “They died in the line of duty? That should be recognized,
it’ll put the Volunteers on the map as part of our armed forces. Medal of
Honor?”

Secretary
Warner thought quickly. “I agree with the sentiment, yes Sir. But the Medal is
a bit over-doing it. A Silver Star each for the crew would be appropriate I
think, and a Presidential Unit Citation for the Third Michigan USV. The
situation in Detroit is pure hell, if you’ll forgive the phrase sir. There’s a
serious difference between this attack and Sheffield. Over there, the portal
remained in one place and poured its lava over the same target. So, although it
spread, the starting point was constant and to some extent the damage was
self-limiting. The Baldricks have learned their lesson from that Sir, this time
the portal is moving, its sort of dancing around at random over a two or three
mile area, a bit like a deflating balloon. So the lava’s being spread over a
much wider area and the damage is a lot greater.”

“I
hope nobody ever thought the Baldricks were stupid, that could be the worst
mistake we could make.” A slight surge of amusement went around the room at
that point, briefly lightening the somber tone. The President himself had
benefited more that once from a presumption of stupidity. “As soon as word of
this second attack hits the streets, we’re going to be under pressure to do
something. Remember World War Two?”

The
reference caused a certain degree of bewilderment in the situation room.
Eventually the Army Chief of Staff, General George W. Casey, explained. “Back
in World War Two, there was popular demand for anti-aircraft batteries around
our cities. So the President ordered 90mm anti-aircraft batteries set up.
Unfortunately, those guns were also badly needed as tank-killers in Europe but
the Army there never got them due to the AA priority. So a lot of our tank
crews died while our cities were never attacked.” Casey settled back, mentally
noting that the aide who had slipped him the explanation for the President’s
remark had just earned himself a promotion and a choice assignment.

“Can
we pull any triple-A back from Hell?” Bush didn’t sound hopeful.

“Not
a chance Sir. The Harpies are the most effective weapon Satan has, they’re
giving us a lot of trouble. They’re like aircraft but present in infantry
numbers and our fighters just can’t shoot them down fast enough. We were lucky
first time round, Abigor had only one legion of them, sixty-six hundred. We
believe there are at least 33 legions being thrown into the battle to under
way. Over 200,000, our troops need every anti-aircraft system they’ve got. We
can’t even give them air support properly at the moment, all our planes bar a
few, are killing Harpies. If anything we need more triple-A out there not less.

“Anyway,
Sir, its pointless. We know now that killing the gorgon path-finder doesn’t do
any good, well, not much anyway. Once it’s over a city, that city is gone. It’s
like the bad old days before we had the GBIs up in Alaska, once we spotted an
inbound missile, we knew the city it was aimed at was gone, it just hadn’t died
yet. We can’t defend the cities because by the time the gorgon appears, its too
late. We have to pre-empt the attacks at source. Now, there are a few things we
can do there, our early warning system based on the cell phone net worked. We
need to give DIMO(N) all the resources they can use, that they don’t already
have anyway, for early warning. It isn’t much, but it’s the best we can do
until we get all our pieces into place. Other than that, all we can do is to
mitigate the disaster. I do hope FEMA are going to be a bit more competent this
time than they were at New Orleans.”

There
was an embarrassed shuffling of feet at that remark. Secretary Dirk Kempthorne
took the bait elegantly. “Well, at least we’re arming the victims this time
around, not disarming them. I guess the crime rate will be a bit lower.”