Mechanical (19 page)

"Cover," Captain Emerson ordered, and the Serpents all moved fast. Tom looked around him in panic. The scaffolding afforded some cover, but what if whatever was coming could see him? Emerson had already moved out and—

The whine was becoming stronger and stronger, almost deafening. Tom's sensors could make out a lot of smaller whines inside the larger racket, each with its own pitch and timber, but Tom was only looking around him in panic, searching for cover.

The Shell gas station!
Tom started running towards it.

"Motorcycles," Ramirez said calmly, and now Tom understood what he was hearing: motorcycles, dozens of motorcycles, coming closer.

"Forget the gas station, idiot," Ramirez sent, and Tom stopped in his tracks, his claws skidding on the concrete street. Tom could think of nothing except the ever-increasing roar of the motorcycles that shook the night. Tom turned and ran back to the scaffolding he had just abandoned and dived into it, flattening himself on the ground an instant before light flooded the street.

Tom dared not move, and he couldn't see past the scaffolding. But he could hear. Motorcycle after motorcycle passed near him in a never-ending stream. They weren't moving fast, just cruising along, as far as Tom could make out. Some thundered deeply like heavy beasts content to move sedately before pouncing on their prey. Others whined petulantly like nervous Chihuahuas.

"Harleys with scooters?" Ramirez sent angrily.

Tom just lay on the ground, partly hidden behind the scaffolding, not daring to move a finger, praying the motorcycles would pass. He had to brace himself not to whimper whenever the lights of a motorcycle passed above him. The flood of motorcycles seemed endless, each one coming closer to Tom's hideout.

Finally, after many long minutes, night returned to the streets of the Upper East Side. Tom dared not move.

"Analysis?" Captain Emerson sent.

Tom had no choice. He raised his head slowly, ever so slowly, and scanned around, expecting to see motorcycles all around him, waiting for him. But he saw nothing.

"Lieutenant Riley?"

"Ah, yes air. I—I think—" Tom realized he had not actually seen the motorcycles. "How—how many were there?"

Ramirez was silent, but Sergeant Jebadiah responded.

"Sir, I counted one hundred sixty-nine. All kinds too, Sir. No guns."

Tom considered this while watching the thermal tracks the motorcycles had left on the street. Most were mixed up together, but some were distinct, especially the thick, glowing tracks left by the heavy bikes.

"I—I think they were sentries. Lookouts. Going slow and driving around and around. Scanning the streets and keeping them clear for the enemy," Tom said slowly. It did make some sort of sense. But why were there so many together? Wouldn't it make more sense for them to split up?

Captain Emerson looked at Tom and then at his own left-arm computer.

“Sixty-nine hours to go. Let’s move.”

They went onto FDR East River Drive and silently moved across it, the four giant spiked ghosts keeping to the side of the road, one after the other, ready to vanish in an instant.

Twice they heard groups of motorcycles moving somewhere in Manhattan, though the groups didn’t approach them. It took them about thirty minutes to move approximately two miles, though the Serpents had the ability to move much faster. Their main priority was still stealth.

FDR Drive was empty. The road lamps were working perfectly though the direction signs have all been removed. Manhattan's buildings were on their right and the river was at their left. The Serpents followed Captain Emerson, taking care to remain on the east side of the river, out of sight of the buildings. The six-lane drive itself was empty. Tom would have found it worrisome, but all his attention was directed at the buildings beside the FDR, all empty, all darkened; and filled with black windows that seemed to watch Tom with empty eye sockets.

Captain Emerson stopped near East 48
th
Street and the Serpents froze wherever they were. Then, Captain Emerson flattened himself on the road, commanding the other Serpents do the same.

Captain Emerson slithered slowly on his belly and stopped at an observation point near the edge of the road, watching Midtown East and First Avenue.

“Lieutenant Riley.”

Tom sighed. He much preferred staying prone and hidden, the darkness of night comfortingly hiding his Serpent’s black armor. However, there was little choice in the matter. Tom dragged himself along, wincing in his mind at the scraping noise his Serpent's belly was making against the road and joined the captain. Tom froze in shock. All the way to First Avenue and beyond were Bradley armored personnel carriers. Dozens of the squat, heavy vehicles were standing on the middle of the road, cannons raised and hatches closed. Interspaced between them were Hummer utility vehicles, some with machine guns bolted on their roofs.

Tom had only an instant to look before instinct pulled him down to cower on the road out of sight. Instinct, indeed. It was only fear.

“One of the M2 Bradley groups,” Captain Emerson whispered softly. “Where are the soldiers?”

Tom would have frowned if he could. He rose slowly and looked again. The M2 Bradley vehicles, though standing in the middle of the road, were completely silenced. No engine was operating, as far as Tom could tell. The Hummers were quiet as well. Tom could see into some of the Hummers' driver's seats and there were no soldiers inside. Switching to thermal sight, Tom could not see any human heat signature. In addition, the vehicle’s engines were completely cold.

“No one’s there,” Tom whispered wonderingly.

“Intel suggests the groups moved around.”

“Probably by day. To prevent us bombing them. But at night the enemy just makes the soldiers sleep. And they don’t even guard the vehicles. Why would they? Who could enter the enemy’s area of control to steal or damage the vehicles?”

“Roger. Move on,” Captain Emerson said.

“There may yet be soldiers there, watching, just like the motorcycle groups watch over the city,” Tom said.

“Roger that. Move on, maintain cover,” Captain Emerson sent and the Serpents slithered by the vehicles, partly hidden by the edges of FDR Drive, only rising up well away from the armed vehicles.

It took them an hour to reach the Lower East Side, and they saw just beyond the East River Bikeway an isolated structure. An old, faded red sign proclaimed the two-story building to be available for rent, though the exact amount was unreadable. Made mostly out of thin planks over a steel frame, the building must have been once used for storage or had had something to do with boating on Walkabout Bay.

Now it just looked deserted.

“The forward operational base. Satellite imagery showed no activity here for the last two years. Lieutenant Ramirez and Sergeant Jebadiah, check it.”

Ramirez and Captain Emerson stepped lightly over the tall wire fences around the structure and entered it carefully, making sure to force their way in from the side of the river, so no one passing along FDR Drive would see anything out of the ordinary.

It took them a long time, but finally the "Okay" was sounded, and Tom and Captain Emerson moved towards the structure.

Tom looked up and froze. A closed circuit camera was right in front of him, on the roof of the building, staring straight at him.

Captain Emerson just walked ahead.

Tom kept staring up until he realized the camera was dead. Probably it had been dead since New York City had been taken more than three years ago.

Inside, the structure was filled with dust and refuse. Ramirez and Jebadiah assumed positions near the barred windows and carefully pried them slightly apart, giving them a view of the outside.

Captain Emerson scouted the structure, mapping out alternative exit routes they could use in case of attack. They could return to FDR Drive, move straight into the river, or use the nearby Basketball City installation to escape to, hide in or even fight it out with any attacker.

A few moments later, Captain Emerson returned and approached Tom, coming to stand right in front of him.

“Lieutenant Riley, we have sixty-seven hours left. It’s your turn now. Locate the enemy.”

Day Four, deserted structure on FDR Drive, New York City

Right. Find the enemy. No problem.
For more than three years every camera and sensor in the United States had been pointed at the twelve occupied cities, and now he had less than three days to find it.
No problem
.

            “He has no idea,” Ramirez whispered from his position.

            Tom whirled towards the Marine Corps lieutenant, whose Serpent didn’t even move. Tom stared at him a moment and then started pacing inside the structure—or hangar or shed or whatever the building they were in was.

            Truth be told, Tom hadn’t really believed they would get so far inside New York City. It was inconceivable they would be able to find shelter less than two miles from where the enemy might be hiding in New York’s Financial District.

            Tom continued pacing. The shed was almost completely dark, but the Serpent’s sensors were able to see quite well in shades of green. Tom sighed. A lot of information about New York City had been downloaded into his computer before the mission, but he wanted some firsthand intel first.

            “Captain Emerson, I want to go over some things again. You still have no idea who or what the enemy is? What kind of equipment they have? How many people there are? Vehicles? Transmission equipment? Anything?”

            “Lieutenant Riley, we were in the same briefings.”

            “Right, right. The general said that when we got back Detroit, they looked through the wreckage but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. No special equipment. At least not a large device. Something small might have been completely destroyed by the explosion that wrecked the building.”

            Tom continued pacing. He even folded down to be able to take more steps before having to double back.

            “The general said the enemy probably needs and uses the electrical power grid. Captain Emerson, why didn’t we just shut down the electrical supply to the twelve cities?”

            “Lieutenant Riley, it is my understanding they tried cutting the electrical supply in Chicago. The enemy made one hundred people walk out of the city, each holding a live grenade: old people, pregnant women and kids. The people stopped in plain view of an army position just outside the city and pulled out the safety pins. When electrical power was restored to the city, they put the pins back in and returned to the city. No further attempts were made to tamper with the electrical supply.”

            “Hmm, interesting. I don’t recall hearing that at our briefings. But, the conclusion is that the enemy must be using the electrical power grid. We can look at the power consumption of the city and pinpoint the place of the greatest drain on the grid. The nearest—”

            “Motorcycles!” Jebadiah sent.

            Tom went down, huddling on the ground, trying not to make any noise. Outside, the now-familiar whine of one of the hordes of motorcycles started increasing in volume. It took only a few seconds before the light of hundreds of motorcycle headlights shone through the flimsy walls of their hideout, creating a very hostile false dawn.

            Tom could only watch as the light increased, casting strange moving shadows inside their shed, evaporating every conceivable cover and concealment. Jebadiah and Ramirez stood stock still like statues, but Tom could not bear it any longer. The noise was so loud.

           
They’re heading right for the shed!

            Tom started inching back, away from the light. He had reached the entrance when he realized the incredible motorcycle whine was starting to lose strength. The motorcycles were moving away! Tom dared not move for five minutes after the motorcycles continued east on FDR Drive. Ramirez said nothing, just glanced at Tom once, his scorn palpable.

            Tom finally got up.

            “It’s all clear. The enemy has moved away,” Jebadiah said, and it was clear to Tom the sergeant only spoke to make him feel better.

            “Electricity. Electricity. Must check electricity.” Tom needed a moment to get his bearings. “If the enemy needs a power supply, and he makes sure all the conquered cities retain their power supplies, then he must be hooked up to the city’s power supply. This means that if we check the power drain in a specific area, we might be able to find the enemy.”

            Tom put his rifle down and started pacing again, the small complicated humming from his electric motors a constant background noise.

            “The electric consumption during the three years in New York City has changed. They don’t use the stock market computers or communications or anything else. Captain Emerson?”

            “Yes, Lieutenant?”

            “Do we have any information about the subways?”

            “We know they are not being used. Satellite images have always shown all the subway entrances empty. The enemy is not using them anymore.”

            “Okay, great. So the power consumption in the city has definitely changed. Let’s say I can see the current and past power drain on the city grid. Wait, why should the enemy be in the city? Why not in the tunnels? Captain Emerson, why are we so sure the enemy is hiding above ground and not below ground, in the subway tunnels?”

            “Lieutenant Riley, we know the enemy keeps people around him as protection from bombing. He knows we won’t strike if he hides behind the hostages. Since the subway tunnels are empty, it stands to reason he isn’t hiding there.”

            “But—”

            “Lieutenant Riley, you will proceed with the assumption that the enemy is hiding somewhere in or near the Financial District where he has concentrated the largest number of people.”

           
Just like that. Without even a shred of anger. No amount of imagination or thought. The brass at the base decided and that’s it.
Tom resumed his pacing.

            “Okay. So we have to look at the city’s power consumption. Has the enemy’s zone of control increased during the last three years?”

            “Yes, Lieutenant Riley.”

            “Okay, we need to look at the city’s power control management center. If the enemy really needs power, we should be able to see changes in the city's power consumption.”

            Tom walked back and forth a few more times, then he saw Captain Emerson’s Serpent briefly light up. Tom’s radio sensors were picking up radio transmissions from Captain Emerson’s Serpent, and Tom’s display system showed the captain’s Serpent lighting up. Tom was not surprised to see Ramirez’s Serpent lighting up an instant later.

            A lengthy conversation ensued, one which Tom and Sergeant Jebadiah were certainly not invited to. A look in his direction by the captain made Tom resume his pacing inside the shed but Tom did not like the way these two were talking, apparently about him.

            Let’s get this thing over with and get the hell out of New York, Tom thought. He brought up some of the schematics and the raw information loaded into his computer before the mission.

            “Let’s see. Manhattan has three main electric transmission links, coming in from New Jersey, Long Island and via Westchester. All together, about five thousand Megawatts. In addition, more than one thousand Megawatts are being generated by the city’s power plants, mainly by the East River and Ravenswood power plants.”

            Tom brought up more information from his computer. Electricity was probably the only real clue they had regarding the location of the enemy.

            “There are two main electrical power control centers: the one on 53
rd
Street is the main subway power control center, but the main city power control center is on East 14
th
Street, near Union Square.”

            Tom resumed pacing the shed. He didn’t even notice another group of bikes coming and going on FDR Drive. Tom’s attention was directed only at the display now taking up half his field of view, showing him in detail the information from his computer.

            “I can look at the power drain of various city sections, maybe even buildings, but there’s no guarantee the enemy really needs so enough power that would register in the city’s control stations.”

            The soft whining coming from Tom’s motors was the only sound in the shed now.

            “There’s really no choice in the matter, but it isn’t completely hopeless. If the enemy didn’t need a lot of power, it would have let the authorities cut the power to the occupied cities and made do with generators or power stored in various batteries and such. So it clearly needed more power.”

            Tom stopped and faced Captain Emerson’s Serpent.

            “Sir, our best bet is the power control center on 14
th
Street. If the enemy really draws a lot of power, I might be able to pinpoint his location.”

            “Bet? If? Might?” Ramirez whispered without turning back, but Emerson said nothing, just stood there in front of Tom, who stood frozen for an uncomfortable long time.

            “Sir?” Tom asked.

            “We received authorization. We move out now.”

            Tom was flabbergasted. “What—what? Now? But it’s almost daylight!”

            “Lieutenant Riley, we have three and a half hour till sunrise, and the power control center is only three miles away.”

            “But—but—”

            “Lieutenant, surprise is on our side. The enemy does not know we have operatives immune to his control. He has no cause to be alert or to guard the control center. As far as he knows, no one can enter the city without being controlled by him.”

            “We have to prepare carefully! The enemy won’t let us—”

            “We have our orders.”

           
But we won't be able to penetrate the control center without leaving some traces. The enemy will know something is wrong. He will know something has penetrated his city. He will start hunting whoever invaded New York City.
But Tom said nothing.

            "We're moving out. Stealth is still our main priority. Avoid detection and contact at all costs. Engage the enemy at my command only. Double time." Captain Emerson paused to consult his own arm computer. "Thirty-five minutes to reach the target. Then it will take fifteen minutes to penetrate the target and pacify it. Lieutenant Riley, you'll have one hour inside, and then thirty-five minutes to return to the forward operating base. Move out." Captain Emerson finished firing commands and left the shed.

            Tom pulled out his rifle again and checked it, for all it was worth against a city filled with enemies. Ramirez and Jebadiah had no qualms, leaving the shed through the entrance they had created in its back. Sergeant Jebadiah made sure the entrance was camouflaged, lifting nearby crates and debris heavier than a human could lift to make sure the shed looked unoccupied.

            Before Tom really understood what was going on, he was back on the alien New York City streets.

            This time they moved rapidly, Captain Emerson and Lieutenant Ramirez at the front, Tom in the middle and Sergeant Jebadiah bringing up the rear.

            “Scan for motorcycles. Keep eyes peeled for any other targets. Stay in cover at all times,” Captain Emerson sent.

            Tom moved quickly, grasping his rifle tightly, keeping as low as he could. Every noise made him jump, thinking one of the enemy biker groups was returning. In fact, the many trees and plants, fully half of them added since the occupation started, gave the streets a wild look in Tom’s eyes, foliage moving everywhere accompanied by many strange noises that had no business in a city, especially at night.

Tom’s vision enhancement sensors could see eyes staring back at him: birds and small animals that had multiplied since the enemy took the city. Tom fidgeted, turning his rifle in every direction, imagining the enemy was looking straight at him with those small glowing night eyes that belonged in a nightmare. The silence of the streets was unearthly and unbearable.

            They reached East 13
th
Street and left FDR Drive, moving through a narrow garden into a small industrial area that contained some kind of factory on one side and residential buildings on the other. Tom glanced back. The garden's earth now contained deep-clawed footprints. The squad used the trees' thick foliage for cover, keeping on the lookout for anything that seemed alive and awake in the night.

            Tom clutched his weapon so hard he started hearing the metal creak. They were now inside New York City itself, moving again among the enemy-controlled people, beneath buildings that held nothing in their dark and lifeless windows.

Tom thought it would have been better if someone saw them already, but the night, the many dark plants dotting the streets and the Serpents’ own black matt armor managed to keep the ten-feet-tall monsters out of sight. As far as Tom knew. Nevertheless, the Serpents used low concrete fences and every kind of cover they could find to remain hidden, moving while continuously bent and hunched down in a way that was impossible for mere humans to maintain.