Overrun: Project Hideaway (35 page)

"They're still back
there!" Parker yelled.

"Hang on!” Cranden said
softly from the other side of the cabin. “We’ve got more coming in…”

The ship lurched sharply again
as it was pelted with a fresh burst of violent energy. Its nose dipped out of the
sky and pointed directly towards the ground.

Its speed did not decrease.

"How far are we?"
Tuttle asked. His fingers jabbed at controls that were short-circuiting and
igniting into tiny flames across his lap. The ground rushed at them from the
surface.

Tuttle never heard the reply.
The world around him suddenly went black.

After more than fifty years, the
Hideaway and its secret cargo finally returned from space. The force of its
impact drove it deep into the hard flaming terrain of the Earth.

The transport jarred again
sharply against the rough sandy ground.

They had broken through to the
outside surface less than an hour ago from the emergency escape tunnels of the
Administration Dome.

Flames from the overrun domes
and the destruction of the ancient cities were becoming fewer and farther
between along their route. Much of the massive ruin now blended into one fiery
existence that slowly disappeared behind them in the distance.

The presidential retreat was not
much further ahead.

They were in a region of old
Canada near the northernmost section of the continent. The land here was much
as it had been before. Outside cities stretched for many miles throughout. Even
years after the unification of the two countries, dome construction hadn’t yet
reached this far.

Only blowing sand and sweating
dunes and rock stretched before them.

“We’re two miles from the
retreat, sir,” Baldwin reported looking up from the command console across his
lap.

“Can we send a signal?” Ford
asked back.

“No, sir, too much risk. No
guarantee against a trace.”

“Do we know anything about the
retrieval team?”

“It’s been some time since we’ve
had contact with the crew boarding the Hideaway. All we can do is proceed.
We’ll know more when we get to the retreat. At least there we’ll know if
they’ve activated the tracing system to bring it in.”

Baldwin sat in the transport’s
passenger seat next to the guard that had led them out. Both the portable
command console and a mini-holovid hovered across his lap.

Ford sat in the back next to the
second guard whose blood colored the inside of the passenger cab a dark red. He
tried to ignore the sickening smell.

Neither of the guards spoke.
Both wore stony expressions of determined indifference as one drove the tiny
transport and the other bled in the backseat next to the President. A scary
blankness lurked behind their stares.

The President took another gulp
of the stale air inside the cramped cab.

The smoky smell of discharged
weaponry still jammed the compartment. The large bodies of both guards further
crowded the space. The thick scent of spilt blood threatened to suffocate them
all.

Ford closed his eyes and tried
to fight the claustrophobia away.

Blood flowed freely down the
neck of the man next to him and disappeared into a thick foam of sweat at his
uniform sleeve.

Everyone in the cab knew his
wounds at any time would take his life.

The parts of his skin not
covered in blood were a ghostly white.

The President sat back to take a
breath and raised the bloody needle from the emergency kit away from the
guard’s skin.

Since they had broken through
from the tunnels into the light, Ford had undertaken the hopeless task of
trying to sew shut some of his wounds.

He tried not to stare directly
into the guard’s eyes. He couldn’t bear for him to read his thoughts.

Ford took another breath and
waited for the transport to hit some flatter land so that he wouldn’t further
damage the wounds he was trying to close.

A large gaping gash of ripped
skin stretched nearly the full length of his arm and down beneath his shoulder.

Ford swallowed hard and did his
best to close at least part of it. With what fabric they had torn from their
clothes and gear, he tried to stop the flow of blood from the rest.

“Sir, we’ve got a whole lot of
new signals,” Baldwin stammered from the front of the transport.

“Source!” Ford demanded
immediately.

They continued to speed along
the sun-ravaged land.

“Nothing of ours. Enemy forces
for sure.”

“Where?” Ford looked away from
the guard and stared out the rear window apprehensively.

“Coming from every side. Can’t
see them yet, but they’re out there. Just beyond the dunes. Jeeps, tanks and
air assault craft. Multiple sizes and coming from all around. From all over the
goddamn place!”

The President became silent and
returned his attention back to the guard’s wounds.

“I recommend we break from
course,” Baldwin said slowly.

“Break to goddamn where?!” Ford
shot back.

“Sir…,” Baldwin said again. The
turbulence from the transport jarred his speech.

“Forget the retreat. If troops
are this far out, then they are out looking for us. And if they know where we
are now, then they know where we’re going. It’s probably already been overrun.”

“No! We follow it in!” Ford said
forcefully. “We go to the landing site. This is going to be it. Right here. We
need what’s on that ship.”

A large boom ripped across the
sky overhead.

Pressing up against the
vehicle’s rear and side windows, Ford, Baldwin, and the driver watched a large
ship break through the clouds and streak across the horizon.

Part of it was on fire. Large
shredded pieces of its structure dropped away behind it and smashed into the
ground.

“Oh my God…,” Ford said quietly.

Two smaller ships chased after
it. Weapon bursts and laser fire spit at it from every side trying to knock it
from the sky. Behind them, a larger more massive craft broke from the horizon
momentarily blocking out the sun and casting a dark shadow across the terrain.

Ford stared at the trail of fire
behind the Hideaway as it streaked ahead of them. Hills and dunes fell beneath
it. Ripped metal and debris tore loose from its sides and plunged into the sand
around the speeding transport. Giant craters opened in the ground on all four
sides of the vehicle.

The injured guard tried to
straighten in his seat.

“Five miles,” Baldwin reported.

The Hideaway dropped further
from the sky heading in the same direction as the transport towards the
coordinates of the presidential retreat.

The smaller ships continued to
give chase. Their weapons fire hammered at its front and midsections. Streaks
of orange and red traced after it through the sky.

The Hideaway barreled ahead
across the dunes. Its rearmost section had almost completely torn from the rest
of the ship. It was only connected by a section of steel protruding from its
side. Pieces of metal continued to shake loose and crash into the earth.

The transport trailed after it
along the ground.

Ford took his eyes from its
descent just in time to see a piece of shredded steel smash down directly in
their path.

The transport slammed hard into
it.

Its front crumpled ferociously
in on itself, and its rear end raised high into air before smashing back down
hard to the ground. The windshield shattered into dust, and like a bullet, a
body sailed straight through.

Smoke, fire and crushed steel
marked all that was left of the transport. Ford raised his head through the
haze. Faint gasps from the destroyed engine were the only sounds along the
dunes.

Not far ahead he saw the
Hideaway bury itself in the dirt.

A fireball followed by a loud
boom marked the crash. The world then became suddenly still. A faint breeze
tossed warm sand lightly about.

Ford looked over at Baldwin
silent and unmoving in his seat. A deep gash ran across the top of his head.

Ford turned his head and gazed
back out beyond the wreckage.

It was then he saw the troops.
They were still far in the distance, but they came from all sides and steadily
approached.

Ford pushed away the pieces of
metal that covered him and slowly pulled himself from what was left of the
transport.

The injured guard in the back
next to him was dead. A ripped piece of steel jutted from the center of his
chest.

The faint sound of an engine
made him again look out. The first of many vehicles appeared from behind a
dune.

The small distinguishable shapes
of men walking on foot across the sun and battle-damaged terrain continued to
advance from the distance. Their dark figures were ominous and foreboding
against the light blowing sand.

After a length of time he
couldn’t determine, Tuttle awoke buried in twisted metal and dirt. The bodies
of men damaged to the point they couldn’t be recognized were strewn about from
the force of the crash.

Dazedly, he pulled himself from
the wreckage of the cockpit away from what remained of his crew. He could hear
the crackle of flame coming from the rear.

He dropped one leg, then the
next, to the dusty ground. He leaned an arm against the Hideaway’s side and
tried to find his balance.

The warmed air from the fires
blew softly around.

He held a hand across his eyes
and stared hard through the sun’s brutal haze.

A man ran towards him.

Tuttle took two unsteady steps
to his right in the direction of the crashed transport.

His eyes focused and refocused
against the sting of the falling sand and licking flames.

He saw domes burning in the
distance. Entire cities smoked in ruins before his eyes. People scurried
beneath decayed streets seeking shelters that never would stand a chance of
shielding them from the blasts.

Tuttle lowered his hand to the
Sunszk still holstered at his side. He raised it unsteadily and pointed it out.

The figure still ran toward him.

A few short seconds later, a
vision of John Kirken stood in front of him. Tuttle tried to straighten himself
across his unsteady legs.

Kirken’s daughter was next to
him.

Tuttle squinted through the
smoke still trying to focus his eyes and mind.

He was surprised to see they
were back on top of the shopping mall rooftop. The voices of soldiers came from
in front of him and behind. Weapons fire ripped through the air over his head
and close to his ear.

And more than anything, Tuttle
felt the intense heat.

He took a wobbly step toward
them.

Kirken’s daughter moved back
toward the edge of the rooftop. Flames licked viciously at her shoulders from
over the side.

Kirken turned to stare at her.
Large tears welled under his eyes.

Tuttle tried to move again. He felt
the pain from his legs and broken bones throughout his body surge up and down
his sides.

Kirken’s daughter took another
step back. Kirken only stared at her as she moved closer to the ledge.

His body seething with pain,
Tuttle tried desperately to make his body run. He lunged out to grab her. He
felt Kirken also reach out to her from over his shoulder.

A tear dropped from his eye and
splashed across the back of Tuttle’s neck.

His daughter reached the rooftop
ledge. With tears in her own eyes, she looked at her father then to Tuttle.

And then she let her body fall
back.

The same maddening desperate
feeling Tuttle had felt before on the rooftop again consumed him. His heart
withered and became sick.

He leaned frenziedly out over
the rooftop and tried to grab her. Her legs flailed out just beyond his reach.

The flames licked harder as her
body dropped away.

Tuttle stopped at the edge of
the rooftop. His cries choked in his throat.

He stumbled once and fell to his
knee.

* * *

Ford watched Tuttle pull himself
from the what remained of the Hideaway’s cockpit.

His throat tightened when he saw
the distant shapes of soldiers coming from everywhere across the sand.

Tuttle balanced himself and
tried to walk. He reached for the weapon holstered at the side of one of his
unsteady legs.

He raised it halfway up his
chest when the first shot rang across the dunes.

Ford broke into a run. He
screamed and waved his arms at Tuttle trying to get him to drop the Sunszk and
fall to the ground.

A series of weapons bursts
thundered from the dunes surrounding the Hideaway and the crashed transport
forcing Ford to dive for cover behind a large rock.

Rounds slapped against the metal
of the ship just above Tuttle’s head. Tuttle raised his weapon and looked
around in confusion at the sound.

With his arms outstretched, Ford
jumped away from the rock and ran towards him again.

Tuttle straightened his arm and
with single methodic shots returned fire.

Ford yelled for him to stop. His
screams were quickly drowned out by a new weapons volley from behind one of the
dunes.

Tuttle turned around and stared
blankly at the fresh holes ripped into the Hideaway near where he stood.

Ford pumped his legs harder and
continued to run. Weapons fire whizzed over his shoulder and traced a path at
his feet.

Tuttle turned back around and
held his weapon up loosely in the air. He then noticed Ford coming toward him.
With puzzled interest, he watched him approach.

Tuttle stared at Ford for
several long seconds then staggered once and fell to his knee.

Weapons fire blasted from all
around. Bullets made sharp pings against the metal of the ship and shredded the
terrain near his feet.

Ford dove again beneath a piece
of destroyed ship metal for protection from the weapons bursts.

He raised his head through the
smoke. Tuttle was just ahead. Ford could now see the blank look across his
eyes.

Tuttle remained kneeling for
what seemed like an eternity and then slowly stood. Raising his arm halfway and
pointing his weapon forward, he pulled the trigger again. A single round buried
itself in the ground ahead.

Immediately, additional weapons
bursts kicked up handfuls of dirt around him in response.

And then a loud single rifle
shot caught him in the center of his calf and spun him hard around. A second shot
tore into his opposite arm wrenching his body hard back.

Ford rolled onto his chest.
Beneath the heavy flame and smoke, he pulled himself on his hands and knees
towards where he saw Tuttle fall near the front of the ship.

Before Ford could reach him,
Tuttle stood again and raised his arm. He fired twice more before additional
loud single rifle shots ripped into the center of both his legs and one of his
arms.

Tuttle’s Sunszk flew into the
air from his grasp. His mouth opened in a silent scream. His body tumbled
backward toward the ground.

Ford continued to slide toward
him through the smoke and sand.

* * *

Tuttle tried to open his eyes
against the blazing heat from the fires and the onslaught of sunlight overhead.

A shadow across his face offered
some relief.

Like the world moved in slow
motion, he felt someone pull his body around. The person leaned over and spoke
into his ear, but he couldn’t hear the sound.

The person dragged him further
from the burning ship. Flames roared from its every side making the air almost
impossible to breathe.

Tuttle tried his best to help
make his body move.

The front of the ship was all
but consumed by fire. Thick black smoke bellowed into the air. What was left of
the rear cargo area stretched behind in a trail of wreckage for as far as he
could see.

He didn’t recognize the man that
pulled him away. His face was covered in both crusted and fresh blood. When
they were far enough away, the man tried to tend to his wounds.

Tuttle looked past the man’s
shoulder towards the black shapes of the coming troops. Tanks and vehicles
followed behind. Several air ships circled the crash site overhead stirring up
the sand so that it blasted hard across his face.

* * *

Ford pressed harder at the wound
in the side of Tuttle’s chest. The bullet had passed through his arm, and
judging from the way he breathed, buried itself somewhere close to his lung.

He couldn’t get Tuttle to speak.

Ford raised his head and watched
the troops advance from the other side of the flaming ship. So far they hadn’t
been seen. But the President knew it was only a matter of time.

Ford rolled Tuttle gently onto
his side. He coughed and had trouble pulling breath into his lungs. Ford
clutched him tightly in his arms and did his best to keep pressure on all his
wounds.

The President stared out over
the wreckage.

“General,” he said again. “Could
there be anything salvageable? Anything at all we can use that withstood the
crash?”

Tuttle didn’t respond.

Ford gazed out again at the
troops and then down at Tuttle’s fading eyes.

Lying on his side with his head
against the sand, Tuttle started to talk softly. Ford bent his body forward
until his ear was just across Tuttle’s face.

“She’s dead…they’re both dead,”
Tuttle said quickly. His voice could only be slightly heard over the
approaching vehicles and the licking flames. “We couldn’t save her, John…she’s
gone…she’s dead…they’re both dead.”

Ford pulled his head away and
turned his face into the overhead sun. His heart wept for Kirken, his children
and all those lost as a result of the conflict.

“Please forgive me…,” Tuttle
said again. “I am so sorry…I swear to God I tried…”

Ford stared again at the
Hideaway and the advancing troops.

The larger ship that had chased
the Hideaway from the sky now circled overhead. Its massive frame covered the
sun shrouding the world around them in a sudden dark.

Ford continued to hold Tuttle
tightly in his arms and watched the troops slowly come.