Tribulation (36 page)

They didn’t
have to be told twice.

Airborne

“
Now is the time for
judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven
out.”
John 12:31

C
rouching low, the four of them made a run for it. The
door gunner provided covering fire as they tumbled into the
opening. The chopper pilot didn’t waste any time. As soon as they
were on board, he lifted off again.

Sam, Grace and
the two remaining members of her squad strapped themselves in. Adam
handed Grace and himself a headset as the Blackhawk banked sharply
to the south.

“Thanks,” said
Sam. “Lucky you were here when you were.”

“Luck had
nothing to do with it. Grace told me where you’d be,” said
Adam.

Grace said,
“Went to check on you and found the guard unconscious and your cell
empty. Figured the only way to get out undetected was through the
sewers so I gathered up my squad and we set off after you. Ran into
this surfer dude trying to get back in. He’d been asking about you
earlier and seemed unnaturally interested in your whereabouts. When
we found him in the sewers, he seemed pretty agitated. We managed
to persuade him to tell us where you were.”

“But how did
you get here?” asked Sam

“Took the
Brooklyn battery tunnel,” she said, looking pleased with
herself.

“But that’s
blocked,” said Sam.

“That’s what
the Resistance wants everyone to think. There’s ways through if you
know how. I explored it a couple of days ago.”

Sam made eye
contact with her for a moment and then dropped his gaze. He didn’t
know what to say. ‘Thanks’ seemed a little clumsy. He glanced out
the window, lost in thought. Maybe it had been Grace that the
Watcher had referred to all that time ago? Had Samyaza been talking
about Grace and not his mother as he’d previously suspected? He
wanted – no - needed his mother back and a part of him believed
that she was the key to his salvation – hence the reason he was so
desperate to find her. But it was Grace who had saved him. Had come
through for him when he needed her the most. It was a sobering
thought.

Even though it
was still hours before dawn, a bright glow was coming from the
river below them. It was vaguely ship-sized.

“Our fire
ship,” said Adam, noticing the direction of Sam’s gaze.

“What?” said
Sam and Grace together.

“Fire ship,”
repeated Adam. “Old tactic. Back when ships were made of wood,
admirals would load one with combustibles, set fire to it and point
it in the direction of an enemy fleet. We’re doing the same thing
here.”

Suddenly,
Joshua’s disappearance and the rapid departure of his fleet were
explained. They were trying to get out of harm’s way.

“What is it?”
asked Sam. “It looks huge.” Indeed it did. It filled half of the
Hudson River.

“It’s an old
oil tanker. We found it abandoned on the coast and relatively sea
worthy. Even had a fair bit of oil left if you knew how to get at
it. We siphoned off what we needed and kept the rest on board for
this.”

Sam watched as
the helicopter banked over the massive ship. It was only a few
hundred feet away from the dock containing the invasion fleet now,
heading directly for them. Even as Sam watched, the Battlecruiser
and its two escorting Destroyers were frantically powering out of
harm’s way. They’d left their run a little late though. Almost in
slow motion, the sheer scale of the impact creating awe in anyone
watching, the oil tanker ploughed into the Destroyer on the
Battlecruiser’s flank. The bow of the tanker broke the Destroyer in
half but diverted the impact away from the Battlecruiser which was
probably the Captain’s intention. Both ships erupted in flames. Oil
from the breached tanker sprayed over a wide area, encompassing the
Battlecruiser and igniting flames along its hull.

Sam lost sight
of the unfolding drama as the helicopter banked again, heading
towards another large ship coming into view at the river mouth.

“Sorry,” said
Adam. “Can’t hang around. Both our choppers and jets have limited
flight time. The ash plays havoc with their air filters. Even
getting them airborne for this long was a mission.” He pointed in
the direction of the new arrival. “Our flag ship,” he explained.
“It’s the last aircraft carrier remaining to the U.S fleet. Nimitz
class. The George Washington. We got lucky with this as every other
carrier got wiped out by tsunamis.”

“What’s
happening with Colonel Wheat?” asked Grace.

Adam frowned.
“I don’t know. We lost contact with them.”

“What!”
exclaimed Sam. “Didn’t anyone warm him about the Holland Tunnel?
It’s teeming with Lemure!”

“No,” said
Adam. “Grace told me but the warning came too late. We’d already
lost contact with him by then.”

“Turn us
around,” said Sam.

This changed
things. If Colonel Wheat was lost then the U.S forces wouldn’t
stand a chance against the invasion fleet. Unless he took out the
leadership. That meant his brother. The Antichrist. And the sooner
the better. They really couldn’t delay. He could’ve kicked himself
for not killing Joshua when he’d had the chance. With any luck
though, the fire ship might get him yet. “I have to get to the
Chrysler building.”

He explained
swiftly. As he did so, he could see Adam calculating. “We might be
able to make it. Just,” said Adam. He issued several instructions
into his mike and the Blackhawk suddenly turned back the way it had
come.

“What’s our
plan then?” said Grace.

“There’s no
‘our’ plan here,” replied Sam. “I’ll go in alone. You stay
here.”

Grace started
to splutter, but Adam interrupted her before she could protest.
“Too risky,” said Adam. “I’ll call in one of the jets to do an
airstrike. Take out the whole building.”

Sam shook his
head. “Can’t chance it. I don’t know if there’s a chapel in the
building. If there is, he could escape. I need to make sure. I
failed last time – I won’t fail again.”

“And how do you
propose to get yourself out before the airstrike?” asked Grace,
clearly peeved.

“I’ll jump out
the window,” said Sam, trying to sound nonchalant.

Grace’s look
was incredulous. “But you just told us he was on the 32nd floor.
How are you going to survive that?”

“Don’t forget
what I am,” said Sam. The words sounded bitter even to him. “I can
easily survive a fall that would kill a human.”

Adam was
looking at him with a faint smile on his face. “There’s bravery and
then there’s bravery. The jets are armed with iron warheads.
They’ll take out several floors at least. You’d better make sure
you’re no-where near that floor when the attack comes.” He
unstrapped the watch from his wrist and threw it to Sam. “Here,
take this. I’ll give you exactly ten minutes from when we drop you
on the building. Then I’ll call in the airstrike.”

Sam nodded his
understanding, strapping the watch to his own wrist.

“I’m coming
with you,” said Grace.

Sam knew she’d
do this. Be difficult. It was typical Grace behavior lately. He was
about to argue with her when Adam forestalled him.

“No, Grace. I
need you to liaise with the Resistance. If we’ve lost Colonel
Wheat, we’re going to need them. You know their numbers and
capabilities and they know you. Stay with me. Besides, you won’t be
able to survive the fall or get out in time.”

Grace said
nothing. She darted one angry look in Sam’s direction and then
looked down at her feet, conceding defeat. She knew Adam was right,
and Sam knew that the knowledge annoyed her. She hated being told
what to do.

“Take this,”
said Adam, suddenly changing the subject. He pressed a hand sized
package into Sam’s palm. “I don’t know how you’re going to make it
work, though – you may have to use gloves.”

The object was
wrapped in cloth. Sam unwrapped it carefully. Inside were two
roughly spherical shapes, both equipped with handles. Sam knew what
they were – grenades. He’d seen soldiers with them many times
before but they weren’t commonly used against demons, being made of
steel. Technically they were fragmentation grenades, commonly known
as frags. Once the pin was pulled, the device was on a timer and
would explode, killing everything within a five meter radius. Sam
didn’t have to ask why Adam warned him against it. They were both
made of iron.

Adam was
smiling. “Had a team working on them down south for the last few
months. Made especially for this attack. Not only is it made of
iron but it’s got iron ball bearings inside. Guaranteed to kill
absolutely every demon in a room so make sure you’re not one of
them when it goes off.”

Sam nodded his
thanks and tucked the package into the pocket of his hoodie.
Outside the window, he could see they were above Manhattan now,
heading for midtown. They were joined by two more Blackhawks,
flying on either side of them in a defensive formation. Adam must
have called in extra support. Sam even saw a few jets flying
overhead, providing some additional cover for them.

Adam nodded
towards the open door. “There’s the Empire State. Or what’s left of
it at any rate.”

Sam cast around
for the iconic building. Finally he located it, looking anything
but iconic. It was now about half the size of what he’d seen in
pictures in magazines and on TV, a blackened and broken stump of a
building. Sam couldn’t help but feel disappointed again. “What
happened to it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Hard to be
sure,” said Adam, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it was hit by a
firestorm. Funny how those things can be so isolated.”

A firestorm had
been Sam’s guess, too. It was a shame. The Empire State building
had been around for so long and for it to now be destroyed when
some other buildings remained virtually unscathed. Didn’t seem fair
somehow.

The Blackhawk
and their escort approached midtown. Suddenly, the door gunner with
the M134 minigun opened up again. Sam craned his head out the door
to see what he was firing at. Astaroth.

The great
flying demons were circling around the helicopters. At least a
dozen of them. The other Blackhawks were doing the same, firing
almost continuously, fending off the Astaroth, trying to keep them
from the doors.

There seemed to
be more activity around midtown – especially fires. A few buildings
smoldered, leaking lazy trails of smoke, but others were well lit.
Either firestorms had done their worst or they had been
deliberately lit by either side. On the ground below, Sam could see
tiny figures running around. It was hard to tell who was who but he
sensed both demon and human minds. He saw the telltale spark of
gunfire a few times as they flew along overhead. A running battle
seemed to be taking place, probably between the Resistance and the
forces of the Antichrist. He doubted whether Adam’s had landed a
ground based force yet and as for Colonel Wheat – well, he was
potentially out of the picture altogether.

On his left,
Sam saw an Astaroth get too close to the blades of the helicopter.
As soon as it came in contact, it disappeared into a shroud of
dust. Sam caught Adam’s eye and raised his eyebrows at the other
man.

“Iron-tipped
rotors,” Adam said, smiling humorously. “Retro-fitted. Thought that
would surprise them.”

Sam felt
suddenly elated, like the scene almost warranted laughter. It was
pretty surreal. He reflected that was probably another reason why
the helicopters couldn’t stay in the air for too long. The iron
added just a bit too much extra weight.

The other
Astaroth learnt the lesson their dead fellow provided rather
quickly and altogether too well, keeping their distance from the
blades. Sam saw two of them try another tactic, once again on the
unlucky Blackhawk to his left. Working as a team, they divided the
fire of the door gunner. While he was occupied shooting at one
Astaroth trying to attack him from below, the other grabbed hold of
the landing strut with two of its four arms. Sam estimated the
creature weighed close to a ton – the Blackhawk could not just
ignore such a sudden weight shift. It tipped over to its side. Sam
watched helplessly as the gunner fell sideways out the other door,
screaming. Both Astaroth forced themselves through the doors and
into the interior. Within seconds, the helicopter was spinning out
of control. It crashed into the streets below, the wreckage
blossoming into flame.

Sam gritted his
teeth impotently. His time would come soon though. Very soon. No
sooner had the thought entered his head, than the Chrysler building
hove into view. Joshua had been telling the truth. It was certainly
a headquarters of some description. On the ground, Horned demons
and Lemure were hundreds thick, completely surrounding the base of
the building. They were under attack though. There seemed to be
some sort of melee taking place as, presumably, the Resistance laid
siege to it.

In the skies
above the once gleaming metal crown of the building, many more
Astaroth circled. A fighter jet shot past overhead, strafing the
flying demons as it passed. Sam saw at least five disappear under
the lethal barrage, punching a hole for the remaining two
Blackhawks.

They shot
through the gap, the door gunners pounding any Astaroth with
hundreds of rounds from their miniguns. The Blackhawk containing
Sam circled over the balcony on the 32nd floor with the other
Blackhawk taking a supporting position nearby.

Sam couldn’t
help but think back to just over three years earlier and his last
encounter with his brother. That time, like this one, he had to
storm a well-defended position to even get close to him. Sam
sighed. It was never going to be easy, he reflected, reminding
himself why he was doing this. Not for those in Heaven. Not for
Him. This was for the innocents. Those who didn’t deserve to be the
targets and subjects of the Antichrist’s rage. If Sam killed the
Antichrist, surely he would save many innocents.