Battle Road (17 page)

Dylan pushed the car to accelerate as fast as it could. Tien continued to monitor the jamming device. “Three seconds to impact! Two, One!” The missile landed wildly off the mark, at least a hundred yards behind them.

“Nice driving Mister. Now lets get the hell out of here!”

She pulled the bloody shirt off her wound, readjusting the bandage to find a clean, blood free side, then pressed down hard again. She laid her head back against the seat, relaxing a bit, still keeping an eye on the display to the jamming device.

“Tunnel's up ahead,” Dylan said. He looked in the rear view mirror at Tien, not knowing how badly hurt she was. A half a minute later, they were inside the O'Neil tunnel. Safe for the moment from airborne attack drones.

THIRTY TWO

Dylan drove the battered car out of the tunnel on the third exit ramp he came upon. He took the first left, then the next right. He drove on quieter city streets, trying to bypass busier intersections with DHS surveillance cameras. A few minutes later, they came upon a main road, Dylan had no choice but to take it. He recognized the area as South Boston. “Southie” as the locals still called it.

“Pull into the next parking lot you see,” Tien said. “We need to ditch this car fast. They know where we are. It'll take them only minutes to call up the surveillance video in the tunnel.” Tien labored to speak, her breathing becoming more difficult.

About a quarter mile up, Dylan pulled the State Police cruiser into a parking lot of a strip-mall. He drove around looking for an early to mid-20's model year American made hybrid electric car, the kind that Tien had taught him were easy to hot wire. He didn't search long before he found just what he was looking for, a 2024 or 2025 Chevy SUV in what looked to be pretty good shape. He pulled the tattered police car into an empty space a couple of parking spots away.

Tien was getting light headed. She felt sick to her stomach and thought she could pass out at any moment. “I need a pen and a piece of paper,” she spoke urgently. Not saying a word, Dylan rummaged through the center console, finding a small paper notebook and a pen, quickly handing her both items. Tien managed to scribble down an address and handed it him. It was barely legible, with blood smeared across it, but he could make out all of the letters. It was to a location in the city of Dedham, just to the south of Boston. “This is where we're going,” she managed to say. “It's an office building. When we get there pull into the parking garage, drive down to the lowest level.” Tien paused to get her breath. “Now lets get a new vehicle.” She leaned back in the seat and applied pressure to the wound, “Fuck! This hurts.”

The Chevy SUV was unlocked. It was old, the owners probably didn't care one way or the other if it was ever stolen. Dylan helped Tien into the front passenger seat, then tossed the bags into the back seat, before sprinting around to the drivers side.

“You have to make sure that the connector type is trapezoidal shaped,” Tien said.

Dylan reached through the service panel and felt for the connector. “Yeah it is.”

“Good, now jam the key into the right side to reset the ignition code. Don't worry about insulating the key. It's not the car's ignition current flowing through the connector, it's just the current for the keypad switch. You'll get a tiny zap.”

“
OK, here goes.” Dylan pushed the key into the connector, shorting the circuitry, then punched 1, 2, 3, 4 into the keypad. The electric engine whirred and the instrument panel turned on. “Alright we have three fourths of a tank of gas, batteries are fully charged,” Dylan spoke calmly. After what they had been through, stealing a car was child's play.

While he put the car in reverse and and started driving out of the parking spot, Tien issued more instructions. “Forget changing the plates, we need to get out of this area as fast as we can.” She fought to remain conscious. “Once they find the cruiser it won't be long till they pull the security videos to the lot and see what car we stole...... arrghhh …..Son of a Bitch!” The pain in her shoulder jolted her back to full consciousness. She re-applied pressure to her wound. “We need to find a car in the next town. Find a residential neighborhood. Steal some license plates first.”

Dylan drove south, away from Boston and in the direction of the adjacent city of Quincy, being careful to obey every street sign and speed limit. “Car, turn on GPS mapping.” Tien tried to get the mapping system started. Nothing happened, no computer synthesized voice returned the acknowledgment. “Voice commands must be broken,” she said, hitting the on button to the GPS. “Don't punch in the address I gave you. We don't want that information in the hands of Homeland Security if we're captured. Change that, if you're captured. You know what you have to do if we're about to be captured.” Dylan looked over at Tien, giving her a slight nod of his head. He just didn't want to have to say the words.

Tien looked like hell. No sooner had they passed the city limits to Quincy, Dylan spoke out loud what he was thinking, “I say the hell with going to Dedham. We need to find you a doctor as soon as possible.” Tien shifted her body to face him. She spoke in a firm but calm voice, making sure he understood every word, “The address I gave you is the headquarters for the regional command. I was under orders not to disclose that information to you, of course. But the circumstances have changed. You have to get us there as soon as possible. They'll have medical facilities there.”

Dylan put his foot down on the gas pedal, pushing the car faster. He still drove carefully to avoid being pulled over, but drove more aggressively. At the next red light, he held up the bloody note paper to take another look at the address that Tien had written, moving it near the instrument panel to be able to read it. The light turned green. He turned his head to look at Tien before accelerating. She had slipped into unconsciousness.

Senior Agent Goodman and his subordinates remained inside the mobile command center parked in Boston's Back Bay. “Anything yet?” Goodman asked Agent Chung. Reports were continuously flooding in from the patrol cars and hover drones. But nothing yet on the whereabouts of the fugitives. “Have we got any results on the surveillance video in the tunnel?” Goodman asked. Agent Greene, standing behind a couple of agents at their consoles, called out, “We're having a network problem with the server that stores the video surveillance to the tunnels. We have technicians looking at the system right now. They'll have an answer for us momentarily, Sir.”

The events of the evening had failed miserably. The police roadblocks setup at the end of the O'Neil tunnel and each of the exit ramps were established too late. The remaining police cruisers in pursuit of the fugitives, further back on the highway, were trapped in the traffic jam created by the Hellfire missiles. By the time the police finally got through the traffic, the fugitives were long gone.

Goodman wasn't giving up. “I want more Reapers and hover drones airborne. Get online to Hanscom Field,” he yelled, before walking over to Agent Greene at the other end of the makeshift command center. “Get more roadblocks setup throughout the metro area. Shut down the highways. And I want the fugitives descriptions sent out to every police officer in eastern Massachusetts. They would have ditched the state police cruiser by now.” Goodman turned and again yelled out to the agents in the command room, “I want all reports of stolen vehicles as soon a possible. I mean every single missing car!”

Agent Goodman took a deep breath of air. He'd have to be reporting his status to Senior Agent Riviera in another minute. He swore under his breath once again. Though before making that call, he addressed the entire group in the command center, “OK people. Listen up. We're packing this operation up and moving back to headquarters in Burlington. I want to see everyone  back there in forty five minutes. I want any important reports sent directly to me while we're in transit. And I want updates from everyone once we're back in operation.” Agent Goodman walked out of the trailer, his head hung low.

THIRTY THREE

Dylan stopped the stolen Buick sedan in front of the rather plain looking office building. Tien was lying face up on the back seat of the car. He double checked the address that she had written on the note paper. Comparing it with the display of the navigation system. It was the right address. But it sure didn't look like the right place. The building appeared to be deserted. The car's headlights reflected on the glass entrance way of the building. He sat frozen for a moment, carefully studying the stainless steel lettering of the address above the glass doors. 

Dylan turned to look at Tien behind him once again. 
I pray this is the right place,
he thought as he put the car in gear
and drove over to the entrance of the concrete parking garage. It was dimly lit with only a few dirty light bulbs still shining. He
steered the car to the left and down the ramp to the lower parking level. A single car was parked near the middle of the lot. A  rusty sign pointed to another lower level. Still not entirely convinced he was at the right place, he drove down the ramp to the bottom parking lot. It was deserted and even less illuminated than the higher parking levels.

Dylan drove the Buick around the parking lot in a wide full circle, looking for something to show him he was in the right place. There was nothing. It looked like an ordinary, crappy garage parking lot: dirty concrete walls, oil stained spots here and there, with a few pieces of liter strewn about.
What the hell now
, he thought. He stopped the car in the middle of the garage and put it in park. He looked again at Tien and grew more worried. He got out of the car and walked back and forth with his hands raised, swirling around a few times. Nothing happened. He  started jumping up and down, waiving his arms frantically in the air, calling out as loud as he dared. Ten seconds passed, fifteen, then twenty. It was futile. He stopped. There was nothing there. Complete silence. Darkness. No sign of anything. His mind raced with what to do. It was time to get out of there and get Tien to a hospital.

Suddenly it occurred to him,
If this is the place, they don't know me
.
And they can't see Tien lying on the back seat.
He
rushed over to the back passenger side door. The door was locked, he thought to himself he probably locked it automatically to keep her from falling out. He sprinted back to the drivers side and hit the button to unlock all the doors. And just as fast, he sprinted back around to the passenger side. He wanted to pull her out head first.

Dylan carried her with both arms, walking in a wide circle, gently swirling her limp body from time to time. “Is there anyone here,” he called out to the empty parking lot. Several seconds passed. Still nothing happened. He continued moving in circles. Tien's head hung lifelessly back, as a dolls head would. Twenty seconds past, then almost thirty. Nothing happened.

“There's nobody here,” Dylan spoke aloud, letting out a sigh before carrying Tien back to the car. He had almost reached the Buick when he suddenly heard a loud motorized humming noise from behind him. He swung around to see a false door opening on one of the walls of the garage. The door itself was big, wide enough to drive two cars through. Several people sprinted out of the door, four men and a woman. One of the men, carrying a sub machine gun stayed behind the others, sweeping his head back and forth.

Two of the men, without saying a word, took Tien out of Dylan's arms. At the same instant, two other people, a man and a woman rushed out of the secret door pushing a wheeled stretcher. Dylan followed behind, watching the men carefully transferring Tien onto the stretcher. No one said a word, everyone knowing their roles, and acting as quickly as they could.

The silence was broken by the woman who was with the first group of people out the door. “Who are you?” she asked with a serious no nonsense expression on her face. She definitely was in charge of the group. She appeared to be in her middle twenties, shoulder length blond hair, a bit on the thin side and short, probably no more than five feet two inches tall. The man with the sub machine gun stood behind and  off to the side of her. His weapon pointed at the ground but in the direction of Dylan.    

Dylan looked around at the group, then followed behind as soon as they started moving Tien on the stretcher. “My name's Dylan Fraser. She's Tien-Mu Chang. She's one of yours. She needs medical assistance right away,” he said, trying to keep up with the stretcher. The blond woman's expression eased somewhat. She turned around to face the man holding the machine gun, “Take care of that car.” She had fallen behind a few feet and ran to catch up with Dylan and the group. “We know who she is. We're going to take good care of Tien.” She paused for a moment, then added, “By the way, I'm Helen.”

The group rushed past five armed sentries, the massive door started closing as soon as everyone was inside. Helen maneuvered herself in front of Dylan. She raised her hand to signal him to stop. “We need to let the medical people take care of her for now. You need to follow me,” she said. One of the armed guards took a position to the right of Dylan, another directly behind him.

Dylan shook his head and tried to walk around her. “I'm staying with her.” Helen jumped to the side to get in front of him once more. Dylan stopped. “There's nothing you can do for her. If anything you'd only be in the way. Besides, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.” Helen said, using both hands to indicate the presence of the two men carrying M4 rifles. 

“Let's try this again. Shall we?” Helen said, smiling politely while gesturing with her right arm to their intended direction. Dylan looked past Helen to see Tien being pushed through a set of doors and out of sight. He was worried for her, though he knew this woman was right. He couldn't do anything more to help Tien. He did his part by getting her here. “You'll see her very soon. If they operate, you'll be there when she wakes up. For now, please follow me,” Helen said, turning to walk down a corridor. Dylan followed hesitantly, the two guards trailed behind.

They walked through a labyrinth of office hallways, then down a flight of stairs. The building was buzzing with activity. People walked busily to and fro carrying stacks of folders, or wheeling plastic containers. Soldiers dressed in civilian clothes, their automatic weapons slung over their backs, hung out in small groups, smoking e-cigarettes and joking around. Dylan was amazed by the sight. He never imagined that the insurgency had this many people. From his conversations with people at Homeland Security, the news media, whoever, he always imagined the insurgents where a rag tag group of miscreants hiding and plotting in dingy cellars. He never conceived that they could be operating in this capacity.

Helen brought him into an empty conference room and closed the door behind them. She waved her hand, “Sit down anywhere.” Dylan remained standing. He looked about the room apprehensively. She walked over to the head of the conference room table and took a seat. “Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee?” she said, while leaning forward to move the phone console closer to her. “Yeah, I'll have some coffee. Black. And a bottle of water.” Dylan took a seat next to Helen while she made the call.

They sat together engaged in small talk for a few minutes. The room was a basic no frills conference room that middle managers from a typical corporation would meet in. Cheap, fabric covered office chairs surrounded a twelve foot long blueish gray laminated conference table. Standard issue furniture. Helen flashed a forced smile whenever he looked her way. A knock came on the door, a middle aged woman with graying hair and thick glasses entered. The woman carried a tray with a pot of coffee, mugs, and a bottle of water. She placed the drinks on the table. “Thank you,” Dylan told the woman.
She looks like my mother,
he thought.

Dylan looked around the room trying to keep occupied while he sipped the steaming hot coffee. After a few minutes of waiting, Dylan finally said aloud what he was thinking. “I take it you're  suppose to baby sit me until the brass gets here?”

Helen forced another smile, “That's right.”

Dylan pushed her a little, “So, who am I waiting for?”

“You'll be meeting our commanding officer.”

He continued to look around the room, growing further agitated. “I want to see Tien. I want to know how she's doing.” Helen put her arms on the table and leaned towards Dylan slightly. “Just so you know. Tien is a good friend of mine. I care about her very much. There's no place I'd rather be right now than over in the medical area. But I have a job to do. And whether you like it or not, you'll be required to follow our rules until we figure out what to do with you,” she said, then leaned back in her chair.

They sat facing each other in silence. Neither one knowing exactly what to make of the other. Helen was the first to break the silence, “While you're meeting with the 'brass' as you call it, I'll head over to see how Tien is doing. I'll let you know how she is as soon as you get out of your meeting. Is that OK with you?” Dylan was happy with that arraignment. “Helen, thank you. I don't mean to sound like a jerk. I'm worried about her. It's been a really long couple of days. You have no idea.”