Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (20 page)

Slowly and painfully the car stood up on legs torn out of its components. Two metal arms burst out and long talons of metal emerged. The car was being transformed into a huge, monstrous humanoid, over ten feet tall, with arms dragging on the ground. Dark green vapor engulfed the car, secreted out of cracks in the metal-and-plastic monster. A headlight was embedded in the thing’s chest, a bent door stuck out of its back, and part of the engine was visible in its left clawed foot. The rest of the car’s parts were mostly indistinguishable inside the monster’s body, a jumbled amalgam of metal, plastic and glass - pieces twisted, bent and molded beyond recognition.

The demonic monster turned towards the two policemen standing before it and let out a growl.

The black-robed man bent down again.

“The old wizards were fighting the armies of the Bir Nibaru Gods. They would not have had time for elaborate schemes to hide their knowledge. They would need something simple, a sign to show those of sufficient intelligence where their works lay. Those who had sufficient power, would be able to pierce their protection.” A gloved hand drew a circle in the dirt, with two smaller circles inside it, and then horizontal, vertical and diagonal lines across the large circle, intersecting in the middle. The witch studied its handiwork, and with an impatient gesture erased the design. He got up again and studied his surroundings.

“It would be simpler. They would not have had the time or power to construct something complicated. Simple.”

Shots echoed across the village. The metallic ape-like monster was moving slowly towards the policemen. Shots hit it, but glanced harmlessly off its metallic car parts. Several policemen were trying to herd the thing away while others were sending the visiting families to safety, sending everyone got into their cars to drive off in clouds of exhaust. The vapor-enshrouded monster moved slowly, shuffling on the ground, metallic screeching accompanying every move it made. The policemen were retreating slowly before it, their handguns firing, black smoke twirling around them. The monster was walking stooped, its long arms dragging on the ground and leaving long furrows. Out of its huge maw, a triple-forked tongue flicked, tasting the air.

“Think simple. Kernel Conjurations. Conjurations of power. Where does power begin for those who have not the courage to embrace the way of the witch?” The black iron mask turned around. Its gaze moved slowly down to the ground.

“Yes. It starts in the being, in the foundation. In the earth. Yes. The first Kernel Conjuration would be a power of the earth. Where better to hide it than in the bones of the earth? That would be in line with the wizard’s way of thinking. Yes.” The design was drawn again, the large circle with its two smaller circles inside it.

“Under the ground, in the earth. Yes.” The black iron mask looked at the design on the ground intently.

“The ground, the earth. The start of all things. But only some things actually, as those who lack fear know. Where would one hide something in a circle, something of the beginning? At the gate, of course. The south side. The start of things. The entrance to the circle, the foundation of things.” The black-robed man rose with an awkward, complicated motion, looking towards the south. There were two huge stones, standing one next to the other, like a gate, at the circle’s southern section.

“A gate, yes. A portal to knowledge.” The witch walked over. He studied the earth around the two upright stones carefully.

“Many of the stones have been disturbed. These stand proud and erect, though many others have been disturbed. The conjuration here is not protection, it is perseverance. These two stones have been protected from the ravages of time and savages.” The black iron mask studied the huge stones carefully.

“
Saawantaa!
” The shout echoed across the village.

The shuffling metallic monster looked up sharply, a loud screech of metal rising from the bent hood of the car serving as the monster’s right shoulder. Its dark burning eyes were set deep in the twisted metal and plastic chunk serving as its head. The monster looked towards the black-robed man. The demon’s heavy jaws opened and closed, sharp metallic tusks grinding. Then, it opened its maw towards the policemen it was chasing and growled. Its jaws kept opening, wider and wider, as if it wanted to devour the policemen in one huge gulp. The demon turned from the men in front of it and jumped up like an ape. It landed more than sixty feet away, on the roof of a small house. Opposable thumbs on foot and hand dug into the wooden tiles, tearing great holes in the roof, bracing the monster for another leap.

The metallic monster shuffled towards the black-robed man, moving rapidly on all fours. The policemen watched it in awe, the metallic screech emanating from it growing into a continuous scream of metallic torture. The vapor-shrouded creature reached the black-robed man, towering above him.

“It toyed with us! The blasted thing toyed with us!” one of the policemen said. Another policeman was speechless. The image of the huge mouth wouldn’t leave his mind, a maw surrounded by sharp fangs and so deep it seemed to lead straight to hell.

“Freddy, call for reinforcement. We don’t stand a chance against that. Call the yard. Call the bloody Royal Marines! Stop playing around!”

“I ain’t bloody playing, now, am I?”

The metallic monster loomed over the witch. The car’s roof formed the creature’s face, a flat muzzle with a low forehead, deep set burning eyes, sharp upward pointing tusks and a distended lower jaw. Its nose was flat and wide. The metal had been twisted as if it was made out of clay, and it now screeched as the demon opened its mouth.

“Dig, demon.” The dark flaming eyes inside the metallic ruins of the car turned towards the patch of ground. The monster planted its feet on the ground, breathed in deeply and spread its long arms wide. Its fanged mouth gaped open. The black-robed witch took several steps back as the air around the metallic demon started to waver and shimmer. A patch of twilight suddenly manifested itself around the demon, and a heavy humming sound emanated, like an engine revving up. Dark green mist rose out of the earth, moving towards the demon, flowing into its mouth.

The demon’s eyes and maw were suddenly filled with a burning dark green flame. The demon’s arms were brought together with a metallic screech. It opened its clawed hands. A line of dark green flame sprouted from the demon’s maw, the power the creature gathered slamming against the earth between the two standing stones. The earth boiled under the onslaught of the demonical fire. Steam rose in a great cloud, clods of earth and rocks flying away in all directions. Stones splintered and were transformed, as the power penetrated deeper into the ground. The demon kept the line of fire flowing into the ground, digging deeper, clearing away earth and rocks. Finally, it closed its jaws, stemming the flow of power and moved aside.

The witch moved closer and peered inside the tunnel the demon had created. The earth was not warm; the demonic fire had not heated the ground, even as it blasted a deep hole into it. The black-robed man saw huge stones at the tunnel’s bottom - an entrance to an underground structure. The dark green flame had melted a path right through the huge stones.

“The stupid insects in this sphere never thought that a site visible above ground was only meant to mark the location of an underground structure.” The witch shook his head ruefully, as he descended into the tunnel, stepping carefully over the weird shapes the earth had been tortured into by the magical fire. Finally, the witch reached the hole blasted in the stones. The black iron mask peered inside. The weak daylight that permeated the tunnel illuminated a great stairway leading downwards, seemingly into the bowels of the earth. There was nothing visible inside; darkness engulfed everything.

“Unfortunately, everything seems to indicate that this is Eretz, the sphere where the nine Kernel Conjurations were hidden. I cannot leave till I make sure. The danger these conjurations might pose to my kind is too great. A pity. These conjurations should have stayed hidden. I must make sure.”

The witch moved aside.

“You first, I think,” the witch told the demon.

The black-robed man kept moving down into the earth, following the large demonic monster, a large metal pipe in the monster’s left foot clanging against the stone stairs. Sunlight returned to Avebury as the witch entered the earth.

Day 13 after Earth Barrier Breach.

Convoy on Route 7950, Routt County, Colorado, United States. Saturday, 16:43.

Captain Carl Anderson looked around him intently, scanning Morse Farm’s grounds. The farm was located in a shallow valley filled with high grass, green and lush. Anderson looked to the north of the farm, where the valley gradually became more rugged: hills taller, trees more numerous. The southern reaches of the White River forest were visible further away to the north. Anderson wrinkled his nose. He had never liked cattle and poultry and hated their smell. Other Hummers were parked nearby as soldiers evacuated the last of the civilians, escorting them onto military police vehicles.

Four sergeants in khaki leaped out of another two Hummers and rushed over to Anderson.

“Attention!” one of them snapped.

“At ease,” Anderson replied. He took out his laptop and pressed a button. The sergeants huddled around Anderson, looking at the satellite image of the area on the screen.

“This time, it looks like the real thing. Sat Recon puts the target here, north of the farm. It is estimated that it will reach us in thirty to forty minutes. I want us positioned in fifteen. I want positions set up here, here and here.“ Anderson marked three spots on the map, one at the northeastern corner of the farm, near the fence, another near the main farm buildings to their east, and the last west of the farm buildings, near the western edge of the farm’s property. None was closer than half a mile from the other.

“Alpha One, you take the north position. Alpha Two, the west. I'll be here, near the center. Have your ranges checked carefully. I want the positions to support one another. No friendly fire incidents. Got that?” Anderson looked up. His sergeants nodded. Sergeant Montoya, designated Alpha One, looked at the map. He knew what was next.

“Forward observers. I want FO here and here. Alpha One and Two, you set them up.” Anderson marked two additional positions on the map. One was three hundred yards north of Montoya’s position, the other was north of the western team. The observers, well hidden, would supply vital early warning and direct the fire of the teams.

Agent Mathew joined the group huddled around Anderson. He was carrying his P90 on his back. He seemed to be in his element in the field, standing taller, broader, as if something in the open air made him inflate. His fatigues were spotless.

“Those FOs might interfere with the mission, Captain Anderson. Don’t use them,” Mathew said. Anderson looked up for a moment, saying nothing.

“We have Hummers as backup, one at every position. The rest will be at the main farm buildings along with a fourth MAG team as backup. Tommy, you’re backup. Designation Alpha Three. Questions?” Anderson asked. Silence.

“Good. You now have twelve minutes to complete your setup. You have your orders. Mooooove!” Anderson roared. They left running.

Anderson turned off his laptop and got up. He walked to his Hummer and put on his armor, an Outer Tactical Vest Interceptor with two small arms protective inserts. The fine Kevlar weave of the vest was designed to stop nine-millimeter pistol rounds, while the front and back SAPI plates were made out of a boron carbide ceramic, harder than Kevlar and resistant to even machine gun rounds up to 7.62 caliber. Anderson shrugged into the sleeveless vest and closed the front Velcro flaps. The seven-and-a-half kilogram weight was well worth the added protection. In Iraq, soldiers returned safely from missions, learning that the blow they had felt earlier was an AK round. The NSA agent watched idly while Anderson put his helmet on and checked the built-in speakers and microphone. The captain put his hand over the microphone in his helmet, blocking it.

“Agent Mathew, don’t ever contradict me when my men are present,” Anderson said, eyes narrowed. The agent looked at him, a fierce look in his eyes.

“Captain Anderson, this is an NSA operation. Your men are here as bodyguards for us. Remember the mission. The main position will be on the roof of the farmhouse, not near it,” the agent replied.

“The farmhouse is a deathtrap. Even a simpleton will look for you there. The position is on the ground, in cover,” Anderson said.

He looked at a black NSA van. Agents were hauling out crates of equipment; one bewildered civilian wearing an army jacket over not-too-clean overalls was emerging from the passenger side.

Anderson entered his Hummer. Agent Mathew leaned over, preventing the captain from closing the door, a faint smile on his face.

“If you want to retain command of your men, I suggest you do as I say. Remember, this is an NSA operation. You have your orders.” With that the agent left. Anderson watched him for a moment. He thumbed a small control on the microphone attached underneath his helmet.

“All alpha units, this is Alpha. Main position will be on the roof of the farmhouse. Proceed as planned. Over.” Not waiting for acknowledgements, he tore off his helmet and threw it down between his legs in the cramped Hummer. The Hummer’s 6-liter V8 engine roared as the vehicle sped away, leaving behind it a cloud of smoke.

***

Sergeant Montoya backed up several steps, looking down carefully before taking each step, making sure his boots did not leave tracks.

The Latin American sergeant watched the camouflaged corporal hidden in a thick patch of bushes. Corporal Harry Reimer was wearing a full camouflage uniform with a wide, shapeless net with green leaves and branches on his helmet. The corporal blended almost completely into the forest, the shape and color being almost perfect. Montoya walked around him, making sure the corporal was invisible. Montoya had selected an elevated spot, hidden under a tree and surrounded by bushes, with a view of the terrain for five hundred yards in every direction. Even though the edge of the forest was not far to the north, the corporal believed he should have no trouble detecting anyone approaching. He dug in, gently pushing the leaves on the forest floor aside.

“Your momma couldn’t see you five yards away.”

“She don’t wanna see me anyway, Sarge,” the corporal said.

“Check your gear!” The sergeant slowly stepped away, never taking his eyes off the corporal. He nodded in satisfaction. The corporal was completely invisible. Reimer, moving his hand slowly so as not to disturb his cover of leaves and branches, lowered his low-light binoculars from their stowed position on his helmet, and peered through them to a crystal-clear view of the forest in shades of sharp green. He clicked his tongue a few times, testing his helmet mike.

“Everything is fine, Sarge,” Reimer said.

“Lock and load,” Montoya said into his mike. The corporal, still moving slowly, loaded a 30-round metal magazine into his M4 and cocked it, making sure he controlled the spring- activated handle all the way to prevent the distinctive sound of the Colt assault rifle.

“Ready, Sarge,” the corporal whispered.

“Okay. Remember, mommy is not far away!” the sergeant said as he made his way to his Hummer, several hundred yards away, its motor idling.

“Sure, Sarge!” the corporal said.

“Alpha, this is Alpha One. FO is in position. Over,” the sergeant reported, trotting back to his vehicle.

“Copy that, Alpha One,” Anderson answered.

Montoya dismounted from his Hummer at his designated position. He had placed his gunner and M240-machine-gun post on a small mound of earth, thirty feet away from the high farm fence. From this elevated position he had a clear view northward, towards the forest. He could see his FO’s position, but, of course, he couldn’t actually see Reimer. The gunner and his loader had prepped their position, training the M240 Mag northward. The gunner was lying on his belly, swiveling his weapon on its bipod, getting a feel for his fields of fire. His loader was setting up ammo belts, making sure the bullets were aligned properly in the metal links since even one misaligned bullet could jam the weapon. The sergeant motioned for the Hummer driver to stow the vehicle behind the small hill, on its south side. This would make it harder for anyone coming from the north to see it.

“How’s it going, girls?” the sergeant asked.

“Ready, Sarge,” the big gunner replied.

“Lock and load!” the sergeant snapped. The gunner opened the assembly cover and placed the ammo belt that the loader handed to him on the feed tray, with the open side of the links down against the cartridge stop. He held the belt in place and closed the cover gently. Then he pulled back the small cocking handle located on the side of the weapon and let it come forward, sweeping up a bullet. He thumbed the safety, bringing it to the ‘safe’ position.

“Loaded, Sarge!” the gunner said.

“Alpha, this is Alpha One. Ready,” Montoya said into this helmet mike.

“Alpha One, roger,” Anderson said.

“We’re goanna have us a barbeque tonight!” the gunner said.

“Just make sure nothing has
you
for dinner,” Montoya said gruffly. He was on his belly, scanning the terrain in front of him. His Interceptor vest was filled with magazines, but they didn’t bother the small sergeant. Long practice had made him perfectly comfortable, even lying on top of the metal magazines.

“You’re really worried, aren’t you, Sarge?” the gunner asked.

“Think, man. You’ve seen the hardware we brought. Somebody is paying for all of this, somebody’s worried. This means I worry,” the sergeant said, scanning ahead.

The gunner didn’t reply.

***

“Agent Mathew, this is Thorpe, Agent Thorpe.”

“Mathew here.”

“Hey dude, how are things? Have a warm welcome ready?”

“Deploying now,” Mathew talked curtly into his satellite phone.

“I wish I was with you, I really do. But, back to business. I managed to track the creatures by alternating the viewing cameras. I just flick between the IR and the visual range cameras. It’s really quite clever, even if I say so myself. I figured that they somehow know they are being tracked so they change their camouflage pattern. But, they cannot change their camouflage from IR to visual range spectrum instantaneously. That’s how I managed to catch the one heading to that little farm,” Thorpe laughed, but stopped a moment later, sensing the anger Mathew radiated.

“Well, that’s all I could do from here. You’ll have predator coverage from now on. My recon satellite is losing coverage now.”

“Roger,” Mathew answered. He was looking at Benson settling comfortably on the roof with the NSA agents, a long blade of grass in his mouth.

“I don’t like having a civilian here to baby-sit,” Mathew snapped.

“Look, he’s the only one who saw one of these things at close range and survived to tell the tale. He might prove useful to you. Besides, he might even be able to communicate with them. Ever seen one of the Aquaman cartoons? That dude can communicate with -”

“Alpha, this is Raptor. We have eyeball on an object. Inbound, five clicks north of your position, estimated speed ten clicks an hour. Over.” It was the Predator’s mission commander on the satellite phone.

“Hey, cool! You’ve got chicks there!”

“This is Captain Parker, 11 recon squadron.” Her voice radiated cold.

“Ah - okay - I’ll just go and -” Thorpe closed his mouth. Mathew just shook his head.

Captain Anderson’s main position was on the roof of the main farmhouse. The one-story building had a flat roof and Anderson placed his men behind cover as much as he could.

The NSA agents on the roof were assembling a camera, a heavy duty IIR device, hooking it up with a heavy power supply and several lenses, while another agent configured the camera’s satellite link, tracking a flat antenna across the sky. Mathew opened a case, pulled out a long barrel and began assembling a sniper rifle, completing it in less then thirty seconds, including adding on a large starlight scope. The NSA agent turned and smiled thinly at Anderson.

“Alpha, this is Raptor. Target is confirmed. Repeat, target is confirmed. Four clicks northeast of your position. Be advised, we are losing it in the forest. Over.”

“Raptor, this is Alpha. Appreciate your input. Over.” Anderson put down the satellite phone handset and thumbed the switch in his helmet microphone. “All alpha units. Be advised. Possible hostile, three clicks forward. Weapons hold. Over,” Anderson said.

“Alpha One, wilco. Over.”

“Alpha Two, wilco. Over.”

“Alpha Three, wilco. Over.”

Anderson leaned back. His units had all acknowledged his commands; all that was left to do now was to wait.

“Weapons are free only on my command,” Mathew said, looking at Anderson from his position. There was a moment of silence. Anderson’s face was white.

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Alpha, Raptor. We have lost the target. Repeat, we have lost the target. Last sighting two clicks northward of your position. Trying to reacquire, but it’s one sneaky mother, Alpha.” Anderson picked up the satellite phone speaker.

“Roger, Raptor. Thanks for the heads-up. Over.” Anderson put the satellite phone handset down. The two NSA agents moved their gear forward, lying down near the edge of the roof. Anderson watched Agent Mathew move his weapon around with a practiced motion, checking ranges to various landmarks.