The Rift (23 page)

Scout followed the team up the ramp into the cargo bay, unnoticed among the loading of gear and mission prep. Everyone was checking off their part of the mission Protocol on their team handbooks, slightly out of sync since they were used to loading the Snake in the Barn back at the Ranch.

But not completely. “Oh, no, no, no,” Moms said, taking Scout’s elbow and leading her back down the ramp. Dust and dirt and mowed grass were swirling about, kicked up by the Snake’s engines. The sound was a high-pitched whine and a dog
was howling somewhere down the street. Lights were on in several houses and Ms. Jones would have to get Support to work hard to keep video of this off the Internet while spre
ading a good cover story. A bunch of supposed FEMA personnel were on their way with some cover story.

“You’re going to leave me alone with that Ivar guy?” Scout asked. “He’s a little bit freaky.
Big Bang
Sheldon, sort of, but not so funny.”

“This is a combat mission,” Moms said.

“Let’s go!” Nada shouted from the cargo bay.

“Please?” Scout begged. “I’ll stay on the plane.”

“The last plane crashed,” Moms said.

“Then I’ll stick with Nada.”

Who was suddenly standing next to the two of them. “Sorry, Scout.”

“I’ve—” Scout began, but Moms held a hand up, silencing her.

Moms’s and Nada’s headset crackled with Ms. Jones’s voice. “I believe the young lady has earned a place on the team. What is being played out here came through her. Regardless of how we feel about it, she has a role in this.”

“This is going to be dangerous,” Nada said, knowing his words had no power.

“The stakes are high,” Ms. Jones said.

“Roger,” Nada said. He pointed toward the cargo bay. “Come on. Rules were made to be broken.”

They ran back on board the Snake and it lifted up into the night sky.

Burns knew exactly how they’d come in to try to seal this Rift.

Protocol. The hobgoblin of little minds. Burns began to giggle as the phrase passed through his own mind.

He looked up at the golden sphere, flickering in the air. It was five feet in diameter now. His face was bathed in the glow. He could almost see through. To the other side.

That was the whole point. The other side.

Burns giggled once more.

Then he clapped his hand over his mouth. This was no laughing matter, but he couldn’t stop giggling.

Nada grabbed Moms’s elbow and leaned close so he could talk to her off the team net. “We do it different.”

“Do what different?” Moms was staring at the screen of her iPad, scanning the Google Earth map of the area around them.

“The way we hit the Rift and the Fireflies,” Nada said. “If Burns is opening this thing, he knows our Protocols. He’ll be waiting. Plus, we’re going to be late. Odds are the Fireflies, however many there are, will already be through.”

“What do you want to change?”

“No HALO or HAHO parachute jump onto the target. He’ll be waiting for that. We come in fast and hard. Everyone fast ropes right onto the target.”

“And if it’s a trap?” Moms asked.

“Of course it’s an ambush,” Nada said. “And you know the only way to break an ambush is—”

Moms finished for him: “Assault directly into the ambush with everything you’ve got.” She nodded. “All right. Brief the team.”

She switched frequencies, going on the TACNET back to the FOB, getting their Heavy ready.

The lights flickered and then came back on. The two screen watchers ran back through the tunnel to their stations. Computers were rebooting, agonizingly slow.

Then the clicking alarm came back on, along with the strobe light.

“Yeah, yeah,” the woman muttered. “We know.” She slapped a palm down on the button that cut off the alarm as she adjusted controls with her other hand, zeroing in on the Rift that was forming.

“Got it!” she cried out as she forwarded the data.

Eagle had the Snake high, at five thousand feet, circling over Knoxville. They knew Burns was close—how close was the question.

Doc knelt in front of Moms, holding out his iPad. He tapped the screen. “Here. See this?”

“Power lines,” Moms said. “The ones Roland jumped into. And? You think Burns is using them?”

Doc shrugged. “He might be. But this whole area is built on power. The TVA.” He pointed to the deck of the Snake. “The river is dammed in multiple places, all of which generate power. There’s also three nuclear power plants that are run by the TVA along the river.”

Nada had leaned over to listen in. “Not another fucking Chernobyl. Ms. Jones would shit.”

“How close is the nearest nuke plant?” Moms asked.

“Watts Bar,” Doc said. “About sixty miles downriver. And they’re getting ready to put their second unit online. The first reactor to be started up in the U.S. in over twenty years. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Plus they ship tritium to the Savannah River Site.”

“But Burns is around here as far as we know,” Nada said. “And—” He paused as Moms cocked her head to the side, indicating a message from Ms. Jones.

“We’ve got a target,” Moms announced. “Lock and load. Eagle, take us in.”

The Fireflies flashed through, darting about almost joyfully.

As if they knew what joy was, Burns mused as he watched them go by, lighting up the darkness. Despite the fact that he was no longer a Nightstalker, his training held and he counted them as they came out.

Fourteen.

They went off in different directions on their various missions of mayhem.

“Too late, Nada,” Burns whispered. Then he brought the automatic rifle up and scanned the sky overhead for the parachute he was sure would soon appear.

Most likely Roland.

Which meant it would be a big target.

Roland had always been a pain in the ass, Burns thought as he flipped off the safety.

Eagle flew along the river, one hundred feet above the dark water. The plan was to use the river to reach the power lines and then loop underneath them, avoiding the towers and coming in right on top of the Rift and fast roping down. It would require some fancy flying on Eagle’s part, but that’s why he had the big brain.

Literally.

“Thirty seconds from the lines,” Eagle announced. “Opening ramp.”

The team was locked and loaded. Scout was all the way forward in the cargo bay, under dire and strict orders from Nada to remain exactly where she was. He’d buckled a harness around her and snapped the leash into a deck bolt, ignoring the dirty look she gave him.

It was just in case.

And to keep her from following the team out.

The back ramp opened wide and the roar of the engines and the air swirling about added to the decibels.

Roland had the M240 in one hand, loaded and ready. He had a flamethrower on his back, the barrel of the weapon resting in an asbestos sheath strapped to one thigh.

Mac had the M203 grenade launcher, a 40-mm grenade ready in the lower barrel.

Moms and Nada had MK-17 CQC SCAR automatic rifles, reluctantly having traded in their venerable 9-mm MP5s over the past year in favor of the heavier cartridge and greater range. They were old dogs but willing to learn new assault rifles when the advantages were obvious.

Doc had his medical kit in one hand and his laptop in the other. This was Protocol when they were approaching a Rift, because it was his job to shut the thing while the rest of the team took care of the Fireflies.

Moms glanced down at her iPad, checking on the status of their support units. She had a lot of firepower on hand and ready.

Nada glanced over his shoulder and gave Scout an encouraging grin, lost in the blackout red lights of the cargo bay. Then he focused at the yawning mouth of the ramp, ready to charge off into whatever new hell awaited them.

What wasn’t lost was the fourteen-foot-long wooden pole that abruptly ripped through the floor of the Snake, passing inches in front of Scout and lodging into the roof.

“Fuck!” Eagle shouted over the net as the aircraft rocked sideways and lost altitude, diving toward the river.

It was a sign that he was more than a tad agitated that he used a profanity.

Eagle was flying on instinct, having no idea what had caused the problem, not being able to look over his shoulder into the cargo bay. He just knew they’d been hit by something and he had to keep them airborne.