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Wendy screamed as the ground bucked like a bronco, brick and dirt raining around her. She had one arm over her head, and noticed that Tommy had his over her head as well, so the only thing protecting her ribs when a melon-sized rock fell on them was the body armor. As the rubble fell around her, she inched the Hiberzine injector towards her thigh. . . .
To Shari and the fire fighter in the bunker, the effect was only a slight tremor, the combination of the blast shadow from the railroad embankment and the tons of overburden serving to reduce the concussion to a minor nuisance. They stopped their gin game for a moment, said a prayer, swiped at the tears again and returned to the distraction of cards.
Jones hit the afterburners as soon as his ass was to the blast and settled into his seat as the fighter rocketed towards its maximum speed. The fighter began to buck from ground-effect and then the buffet increased as the shock wave started to catch up. Finally the buffeting slowed as the shock wave receded and he reduced speed and turned back towards the town.
Or where it had been. For five hundred meters on every side of the tall building offset from the city's center the ground was as flat as if scoured. The quaint buildings that had survived multiple bombardments in the Civil War were erased down to the cornerstones. The largest remaining structure was a nub of grain elevator south of the train embankment.
The ridge where they had previously dropped napalm was wiped as clean, the churches gone, but the sheltered valley beyond was still intact and there was sporadic fire as he rocketed across. He banked sharply north, avoiding the open area around the interstate, and called base.
«Ground control, this is Tigershark Five, over.»
«Tigershark, Ground.»
«You copy this uplink, over?»
«Roger, Tigershark.» A single turret volley from the battleship landed in the swale from which he had taken fire. «Return to base, Tigershark.»
«Tigershark Five.»
«Two,» echoed Kerman, unexpectedly.
The last survivors of the Peregrine squadron turned to the north and headed for Andrews Air Force Base.
* * *
«Are you all right?» asked Tommy, sitting up as brick chips, mortar and dirt cascaded off him. He flicked on a portable fluorescent light.
«I'm alive,» said Wendy, staying horizontal, but kicking some of the debris off her legs. She pushed aside the stone that had glanced off her side. «How all right am I supposed to be?»
«Jesus,» said Tommy, shining the light up at the intact arch above them. «I can't believe this held,» he continued, looking at the sealed tu
«What if the Posleen find us?» asked Wendy, gesturing at the doffed armor as he detached the side co
He shook it to get the last brick and stone chips out and flopped down on the field-expedient mattress, hands cradled behind his head. «At this point, if the Posleen want me, they can just eat me, okay?»
Wendy snorted, sat up and shook the bits off as well. She took off her own body armor and stretched, wincing at her bruised ribs, then lay down and put her head on his chest. He wriggled over to let her get on the armor-mattress. After a few moments, they both sighed as the tension came off the day.
Tommy's breath began to deepen as the strains of the long night took their toll. At some time in the future—he feared many times in the future—he would think about the destruction of all he held near and dear. But for now it was enough that, for a moment, there was peace, if only the peace of the dead.
Just as he was drifting into sleep, he felt a pair of fingers slip under his T-shirt. He froze, suppressing a snore and a moment later, one of these fingers began playing with the hairs around his navel. Wendy leaned forward, her breasts pressing into his chest and put her face against his ear.
«Tommy Sunday,» she whispered, flicking his ear with her tongue, «if you don't take off your pants right now, I'm going to cap you with your own Glock.»
CHAPTER 41
I-95 near VA 639, VA, United States of America, Sol III
0629 EDT October 10th, 2004 ad
During the early morning hours, work had virtually stopped on the Richmond defenses. Occasionally the crash of explosions could be heard in the distance and the portable TVs receiving broadcasts from Continental Army Headquarters held everyone enthralled. However, with the breaking dawn the enormous boom of the FAE in the distance and the uplinked video broke the spell and the tired cavalry troopers and civilian grading contractors returned to preparing the I-95 fighting positions. Meanwhile teams of women and teenagers emplaced claymores and other mines along the verge. It looked to be a hot reception for the Posleen.
«Let's get to it, boys and girls,» said Sergeant First Class Mueller as the extended break ended. «It's us next.»
* * *
«Are we ready?»
«Yes, Mr. President. Obviously, given the time of day and all the transmission problems there is not a major audience. But there is a higher share than normal because of the emergency.»
«It'll have to do.» He turned to the secretary of defense. «What is the situation with Tenth Corps?»
«They've turned around and are headed back down to Quantico. It's a bit confused but I'm sure they'll get straightened out in time.»
«They'd better. What about Ninth Corps?»
«They're headed for Manassas. The whole First Army is heading into northern Virginia, with the exception of the Fifty-Fifth Armored Division, which is assaulting a landing in Maine.»
«Maine. Maine and where else?»
«Arkansas, California and Oregon all have at least one landing of a battlegroup,» answered the FEMA representative referring to her notes. «Several other states have already dealt with individual landers. But only Fredericksburg has been hit by a full globe. Not counting Fredericksburg or areas that haven't turned in complete reports, we have over fifteen thousand civilian casualties. Most of those are in the immediate area of landings. About two-thirds are mortalities.» She almost continued with a report on the evacuation of northern Virginia.
A bad situation had gone completely catastrophic when Tenth Corps was forced to shut down Interstate 95 and the Beltway to turn around. The corps was out of the way now, and most of the lanes on both sides of the highways had been opened to traffic, but the monumental traffic jam had stalled cars all over it. Instead of pushing more traffic through than normal, the interstates were almost deserted. Millions of Virginians were now on foot, heading towards the Potomac bridges.
«Mortalities,» repeated the President with a grimace. «Great. How 'bout just telling your President that he lost fifteen thousand American civilians in the depths of the night.»
«And an almost irreplaceable engineering battalion. And a city, sir,» said the secretary of defense. «On national television no less. There, feel better?»
«No.» The President turned to the makeup artist. «Are we done?»
«Just about, Mr. President. You want to look your best, don't you?»
«That's going to be hard,» he commented looking at the text of the speech. It was not the best copy he had ever seen, but it was fairly good given the time the writer had to create it.
«You need to look good, Mr. President,» said his Chief of Staff. «Presenting just the right face at this time is very important. You can't appear worried or haggard. It will send the wrong message.»
«Would someone please tell me something new? I can do without the pointless reminders.»
«The Eleventh Mobile Infantry Division commander called,» said the secretary of defense, reading an e-mail hardcopy from CONARC. «As the senior Fleet representative, he asked that we hold off on using the Third Battalion of the Five Hundred Fifty-Fifth. He recommended that we use First Battalion instead.»