A Hole in the Sky (35 page)

“You did,” the older man answered. “And I was halfway there when I realized that you are totally full of shit. So I came back.”

Capelli grinned. “Thanks, Mike.”

Unver nodded. “You’re welcome, Joe. You were hit. How bad is it?”

Capelli returned the pistol to its holster so he could undo his combat vest and pull his shirt aside. The wound hurt, and his side was sticky with blood, but the hole had already begun to close. “Damn,” Unver said in wonderment. “You heal fast.”

“Yeah,” Capelli said, as he refastened his clothing. “There’s nothing like government health care.”

Rowdy was miraculously unhurt. He paused to lift a leg over a dead Ravager, and both men laughed.

“Come on,” Capelli said. “If the hive-mind was angry before, it’s really pissed now. Let’s get out of here.”

The next half-hour or so passed without incident as the barely felt sun rose higher in the sky and the threesome continued to travel east. The momentary calm was a good thing, unless it meant that the stinks had given up. But they had nothing to fear; a Chimeran shuttle
rumbled over their heads but then disappeared over the next rise. “They’re trying to cut us off,” Capelli said, as they paused to rest. “How much do you want to bet that stinks are closing in from the west as well?”

“I’d put money on it,” Unver agreed. “If I had any … What do we do now?”

“We’re still a good five or six miles out from Tunnel-Through,” Capelli replied. “So we need to get closer. Let’s move forward and see if we can slip between the stinks. If that doesn’t work, maybe we can circle around them.”

“It sounds like a plan,” Unver said. His voice was steady, but Capelli could see the fear in his eyes. Fear
and
determination.

Capelli nodded. “Let’s go.”

Seven men were crammed into Judge Ramsey’s office. A couple of them were seated, but most had been forced to stand. A large hand-drawn map had been fastened to the wall behind Ramsey’s cluttered desk. All of the local settlements were identified by name as well as the estimated population.

Ramsey, who was just about to call the meeting to order, was a happy man. And he had every reason to be, because while the attack on Tunnel-Through had resulted in casualties, his forces had been victorious. And, based on information obtained from the prisoners they had taken, Ramsey felt sure that the so-called alliance had been crushed. A theory borne out by the fact that the attackers were all running for home—if their various burrows could be called homes.

But more than that, the failed assault on Tunnel-Through had boosted morale. Suddenly, having been
threatened from the outside, the citizens of Tunnel-Through were united in a way that they hadn’t been before. And that meant his position was secure.

Still, Ramsey knew that the history books were filled with examples of rulers who had underestimated their opponents, and had been severely punished for it. So he would not allow his enemies to plot against him—he intended to root them out. Starting with the town of Haven, which, according to Mel Tilson, was where the resistance effort had begun.

They were about to begin their meeting when the door opened and a trail-weary regulator was shown in. The man’s hair was plastered to his head and he was in need of a shave. He held a Stetson hat in both hands and rotated it jerkily as Hunter introduced him.

“This is Rick Toby, Judge … He’s been on picket duty west of here.” Then, turning to Toby, Hunter said, “Tell Judge Ramsey what you saw. And don’t leave nothin’ out.”

Ramsey listened with a growing sense of alarm as Toby described how he had seen a man and a dog fleeing from a large group of Chimera. Then, according to the regulator, the man had started a fire to slow the stinks down, and even managed to kill a few.

Toby wasn’t sure what had occurred afterward, because after seeing such a large force of Chimera making a beeline for Tunnel-Through, he thought it was his duty to rush back and deliver a warning.

“And you were correct,” Ramsey said approvingly. “Thank you.”

As Toby was shown out of the office, Ramsey was left with more questions than answers. Who was the man with the dog? Why were the Chimera chasing them? For the same reason they would chase any human? Or had the man done something to aggravate them? And what if the fugitive managed to survive a bit longer? Would
the stinks stumble across Tunnel-Through? Suddenly, Ramsey had something more than revenge to worry about. And that was survival.
His
survival. Which, according to Ramsey’s perspective, was the most important thing in the world.

Being very much aware of how visible the dog would be if he broke the skyline, Capelli kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar, as he and his companion neared the top of the rise. “Stay,” Capelli said emphatically, and he pushed Rowdy down. The mix made a whining noise in the back of his throat but obeyed nevertheless.

With Rowdy taken care of, Capelli elbowed his way to the top of the slope where Unver was waiting.

“You aren’t going to like this,” the schoolteacher said, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

And Capelli saw that the other man was correct. The drop ship had landed, the cargo-bay door was open, and a dozen Hybrids were on the ground. Then something unexpected appeared.

The Attack Drone was identical to those Capelli had seen in the past, except for one thing: This unit was carrying a rider! As were the two machines that followed it out of the cargo compartment and into the bright sunlight.

Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. In fact, Capelli knew that a Sentinel named Hawthorn had successfully ridden a Drone. But such occurrences were very rare. And the stink–machine combination was potentially quite dangerous.

“They’re coming this way,” Unver warned, and it was true. The Chimera had formed a skirmish line that consisted of alternating Hybrids and piloted Drones.

Capelli had a sudden thought and rolled over in order to look west. He was pleased to see that there weren’t any stinks coming from that direction. Not yet, anyway.

“Okay,” Capelli said as he turned back. “Here’s what I want you to do. Once the stinks are in range, kill a couple of them. But don’t waste any bullets on the Drones. Their shields will protect the pilots. Then I want you to stand up, let the bastards see you, and run west. There’s an old combine a couple of hundred yards to the west. Take cover behind that.”

“Yeah?” Unver said suspiciously. “And what are
you
going to do?”

“I’m going to lie here, let the stinks pass by me, and shoot them in the back.”

Unver grinned. “I like it. But you’d better find some cover. Start looking. I’ll handle the rest.”

And the teacher was as good as his word. While Capelli worked his way sideways, careful to keep Rowdy in close, Unver opened fire with the BAR. The M1918A2 was firing armor-piercing .30-06 rounds, which produced an ominous roar as Capelli settled in below some bushes and pulled the dog in next to him. The firing stopped as Unver got up, paused to make sure the stinks had seen him, and turned west as projectiles kicked up dirt along the crest of the hill. Then he was gone and hidden from their sight.

Capelli was lying on his back. By raising his head slightly he could look left and right. That was how he saw four Hybrids top the crest of the hill and head downslope. The Drones arrived a second later, and as luck would have it, one of them passed directly over Capelli’s position. He could hear the thrumming sound, see the scratches on the bottom of the machine, and smell the stink of ozone as a wave of heat washed over him. Rowdy barked madly, but the Drone was loud enough to obscure the sound.

Then Capelli was up, carbine to his shoulder, firing from only yards away. The pilot’s back was exposed and the Hybrid jerked convulsively before it fell to the ground. And with no one to hold the throttle open, the Drone drifted to a halt.

What happened next was the result of an impulse rather than a carefully conceived plan as Capelli dashed down the slope. Thanks to the height advantage the hillside gave him, he was able to enter the Drone and occupy the just-vacated seat. The vehicle bobbed and sank slightly as Capelli’s hands sought the controls. It took him only seconds to figure out that the joystick on the left was used to steer the Drone—and that the grip on the right controlled the machine’s speed.

Then Capelli was off. And not a second too soon, as a ’brid fired a burst of rockets at him. They passed through the space he had occupied moments before and slammed into the hillside. The battle could have ended there and then had the other Drones been able to gang up on him. But Unver was in position by that time. And every time a ’brid pilot turned its back on the schoolteacher it risked being shot.

That limited what the Chimera could do and gave Capelli a much-needed advantage as he guided his vehicle in behind one of the stinks and fired the Drone’s automatic weapon. A steady stream of projectiles tore into the enemy pilot and its mechanical mount. The Drone exploded. Pieces of flaming debris flew in every direction. There was a clanging sound as a piece of metal struck the front of Capelli’s machine and bounced off. Capelli put the vehicle into a tight turn and went after the third Drone.

But it, along with all of the remaining Hybrids, had already fallen victim to Unver’s lethal BAR. The pilot was slumped forward against the controls as its machine drifted two feet off the ground. “We did it!” the
ex-schoolteacher shouted exultantly, as he dashed upslope. “We killed every goddamned one of them.”

It was the last thing Unver ever said, as a row of ten Stalkers appeared to the west. All of them opened fire at once and missiles rained down out of the sky. Capelli was spared as columns of soil soared into the air—but Unver vanished as if he had never existed.

Capelli swore bitterly as he turned the machine towards the east and opened the throttle all the way. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to keep going. For Unver, for Susan, and ultimately for himself.

Well, I’ll be damned
, the voice remarked.
You listed someone else first
.

Susan Capelli was sitting upright in the trunk of a 1953 Cadillac, peering out through the four-inch gap between the lid and the car’s rounded body. She was wrapped in a blanket, leaning against her pack. The vehicle was sitting on four flat tires in a small parking lot. To her left, about three hundred feet away, stood a water tower. She could see the lookout stationed up on the walkway. The pimply-faced youth wasn’t a day over eighteen. Too bad he was going to die.

The hill, and the tunnel concealed within it, lay beyond. After circling around and approaching from the south, Susan had been able to infiltrate the area the night before. The car, and the cover it gave her, were a godsend. Two regulators had passed within fifteen feet of the vehicle earlier that day without giving it a second glance.

Now, as the pale yellow sun began to sink towards the western horizon, she saw little activity in the area. The exception being the lookouts posted on the flanks of the hill itself. She couldn’t see the north side, but knew where the sentries located in front of her were, and planned to kill them as soon as Joseph arrived.
If
Joseph arrived—which, as the hours crawled by, seemed less and less likely.

But he’s a Sentinel
, she told herself.
Possibly the last Sentinel. And Sentinels are hard to kill
. The thought provided her with a momentary sense of comfort. But that feeling soon fell prey to the unresolved doubts which had gone before. The result was a persistent uneasiness that, combined with the nausea she’d been experiencing, made Susan feel ill.
Please, God
, she prayed.
Please keep him safe. And deliver him to me
.

Moments later, as if to mock her, three Chimeran fighters roared over the hill. Susan’s initial reaction was to view the aircraft as a bad omen. Then she realized that the fighters might portend good news. What if her husband’s efforts had been successful? What if he was closing in on Tunnel-Through from the west? That would explain the presence of enemy aircraft.

Susan felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, checked her weapon for the umpteenth time, and wished more members of the alliance were present. But they were needed at home, where she was supposed to be. Capelli would be furious with her for coming. Susan knew that. But she wasn’t about to let the regulators or the stinks kill her man.

It was difficult to sit there for hours on end, and her butt was starting to hurt. So she was about to shift her weight when the Cadillac shook slightly and a series of muffled explosions were heard. The Chimera were coming! And that meant Capelli was alive.

That was all the information Susan needed. After hours of careful observation she knew exactly where Tunnel-Through’s lookouts were—and she knew Judge Ramsey would be counting on them to provide him with a constant flow of intelligence. So if she could blind the bastard, and cut him off from the outside world, it would be a big help to the stinks. And ironically enough, that was what she wanted to do.

So with the efficiency of a woman determined to protect
what was, and what could be, she shot the teenager in the head. As his body fell away from the tower and plummeted towards the ground she was already swinging the Fareye towards the hill beyond. The second target was located behind a bush she had marked earlier. Having heard the shot, the regulator was on his feet, binoculars to his eyes, looking for her.

She had to raise the barrel slightly due to the distance involved—and there was a westerly breeze to consider. With the crosshairs centered on a point slightly above and to the left of the lookout’s head, she applied pressure to the trigger. The man went down as if poleaxed. The battle for Tunnel-Through had begun.

Capelli could have flown faster, and would have had it not been for Rowdy, who was loping along below the Attack Drone as they headed east. Capelli felt an unexpected sense of elation as a dozen regulators charged out of a copse of trees to intercept him. Because rather than turn and run, as he had been forced to do recently, Capelli could tackle the horsemen head-on.