Defeat (15 page)

“
Then we’re on
the same wavelength. I was worried I’d have to wait for you to
pack.”

“
Why?”

“
Things have kind
of fallen apart a bit while you were holed up in here, although
Utah has mostly kept it together. No one from the federal
government has any authority now, but there are locals still in
charge.”

“
So?”

“
We’re federal,
Gilliam.”

Eva shrugged. Duh.

Mark’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s just
say I didn’t have any legal means of procuring our transportation,
and I wanted to ride in style. Now, hold that door open while I go
check out the goods.”

It took Mark three trips to pull
out several cases of water and several boxes of food. He didn’t
grab any other survival gear. They piled everything up outside the
apartment.

Eva held the door open and looked
back inside.

“
Anything else
you need?” he asked.

She shook her head.

Safe house and prison. Now that
she was free, she knew she’d really shoot herself if she were
trapped like that again.

“
Nope. I’m done
with this place.” Eva closed the door.

She carried as much gear down the
stairs as she could. Only one vehicle sat in the parking lot. A
yellow jeep with the soft top rolled up and put away.

“
Seriously?”

“
Hey,” Mark
replied in defense. “I looked for a pink one, but thieves can’t be
choosers. It would have been epic. We could have used Ken and
Barbie for our cover names.”

Eva threw her gear in the back and
shook her head with a smile at him.

A couple of more trips and the
jeep was loaded. Eva finally stopped for a second and looked up at
the blue sky and the sun. Freedom.

“
We driving for a
while?” she asked.

“
That’s the
plan.”

She pulled her shirt off. She
needed sun. She took her tank top off also, stripping down to her
sports bra.

“
We ain’t got
time for that, Gilliam.”

She flipped him a bird, then sat
on the side of the passenger seat and untied her boots.

“
We do have to
get going,” Mark said seriously.

“
I need sun,
Dornbush.”

“
I’m not gonna
complain.” She could feel his idiot grin as he probably watched
her. She pulled her boots and socks off, then stood to shuck her
camo pants off. She’d worn shorts under them.

Barefoot and in a sports bra and
shorts, Eva climbed into the jeep, putting her clothes on the floor
behind her seat. She leaned her chair back and settled into it,
buckling her seat belt. She put her feet up on the dashboard. The
feel of the sun on her skin was amazing. All the fears and terrors
and frustration of the last few days melted away.

Mark gunned the engine and peeled
out of the parking lot, the jeep bouncing as it crossed the
gutter.

“
Those legs might
get us through a few checkpoints,” Mark said to her. Eva ignored
him, her eyes closed, the sun warming her skin, the breeze cooling
it, and Eva had never felt better.

“
Seriously,
Gilliam. Things have changed. I don’t mind you getting all naked in
front of me, but you’d better keep that Sig Sauer
handy.”

“
It’s a
Glock.”

“
Even better.
Just keep it ready.”

They wound their way through a
mostly deserted neighborhood until they got to a freeway on-ramp.
Mark took the southbound entrance.

“
Where are we
headed?” Eva asked.

“
Do you really
care right now?”

“
Not
really.”

Mark grinned and started singing,
“I wish they all could be California girls.”

“
California?” Eva
guessed.

“
Yep. What’s left
of it, anyway.”

“
What happened?”
Eva wished there were a way she could roll over and let her back
get as much sun as her front. She wondered how far back the seat
would lean, then pictured herself trying to lie on her stomach. It
just wouldn’t work.

“
It’s a long
story, Gilliam.”

“
We ain’t got
nothin’ but time.”

“
I’m kind of
short on details, everyone is, but I’ll tell you what I know.” Eva
listened, stunned, as Mark described how the wars had gone, first
the nuclear exchange with the Russians and then the one-sided
conflict with the aliens. As her horror grew with his account, the
sun didn’t feel good anymore. She looked up at the sky and thought
of space beyond it and wondered what terrors it
held.

They continued south.

Wolfgang stared out the side
window of the army supply truck, seeing, but not appreciating the
fields and orchards of Eastern France. He could see the forested
hills of Southern Germany in the distance. He hadn’t spoken, he
couldn’t speak, wouldn’t have even known what to say, since they
had buried his wife. Leah and the three Americans had helped him
even though he didn’t know why. There was an urgency in their
actions. Wolfgang knew they had been ordered to go south, to get to
Italy and to a base on the island of Sicily, but they took the time
to help him dig a grave in the communal cemetery and they waited
patiently for him while he said a few words over that grave. Her
grave. His wife’s final resting place in mortality.

There was no headstone, and he
knew that no one else would ever know where she was buried.
Nonetheless he tried to bless the grave, using words he’d heard
once before, but it felt inadequate.

They continued south through
France on a tiny, two lane highway, heading for Basel. Leah told
him her parents lived in a village near Biasca. It had worked out
best to go through France, as radioactive clouds existed in the
southwest of Germany, plus the highway through Basel led straight
to Biasca, and after that into Italy.

Wolfgang hadn’t even noticed when
they’d crossed the border. The guards were gone, the crossing gates
lifted, and the American truck had simply driven across.

The back of the truck was loaded
with enough fuel, food, and weapons for an army. Or so Wolfgang
thought. The truck consumed immense quantities of the precious
diesel. He guessed the Americans hadn’t figured out how to make
electric or solar military vehicles yet.

The Swiss border was more
regulated than the French one, but apparently the guards had
standing orders to allow evacuating units through. They ignored the
two civilians in the truck, not even checking passports. They did
tell the group that several meteors had struck the town and there
were tens of thousands of casualties. Rail lines had been destroyed
along with several industrial centers. It was clear that commerce
had been targeted.

So much for Swiss neutrality.
Apparently it hadn’t been recognized by the aliens.

The trip dragged on, Wolfgang
bouncing in his seat. Captain Wlazlo drove and the other young
officer, Captain Smith, sat in the front passenger seat, an
advanced rifle resting uncomfortably on the ground between his
knees. The senior officer, Lieutenant Colonel Robertson, sat alone
in the next row, a map spread out beside him. Leah and Wolfgang sat
in the last row of the large vehicle.

The American soldiers had talked
to each other a lot during the early part of the trip and Wolfgang
had listened, trying to understand their rapid fire English, but
after seeing the damage in Basel, they were quiet. Perhaps they
realized, as Wolfgang did, that fighting the aliens was
hopeless.

With no noise but the drone of the
engine and the squeaking of seats, Wolfgang drifted off.

His ears rang and he felt the
truck swerving wildly, hitting something and bouncing
upwards.

Wolfgang was dimly aware of Leah
screaming next to him, but he could hardly hear her. His head hurt
and he couldn’t think. He felt the truck falling.

He finally broke the silence he
had maintained since his wife’s informal funeral.

“
No!” he cried as
the nose of the truck pitched forward and he felt the vehicle going
upside down.

“
Sir, you have a
message,” Lieutenant Commander Purcella said at the door to
Stanley’s quarters. Stanley floated over his bunk, upset at
everything and everyone. Didn’t they know what it took to put
people on Mars? The governments of the Earth had moved mountains to
make it happen. Putting a man on the Moon seemed like child’s play
compared to what it had taken to put Boston Wright on Mars. And as
soon as they had gotten there, everyone wanted to turn their back
on the program.

Beagle
was only the sixth mission and Stanley was
determined it would not end in failure, aliens or no
aliens.

“
Sir?”

“
What?” Stanley
yelled at the man for interrupting his thoughts.

“
Sir, you really
need to listen to this message.”

“
Is Crayton
whining again?”

“
No, sir. It’s
the Hrwang.”

“
What?” Stanley
wasn’t comprehending what his communications officer had just said
to him.

“
It’s the Hrwang,
sir. They want to speak with you.”