Last Light Falling (32 page)

“Sir, we are still getting no response from inside the prison. The tower has yet to send any communication back since they last contacted us two hours ago,” says a voice on the radio.

“Proceed to your location and send me a status as soon as you arrive. I want to know the exact body count, Major,” another voice responds.

“Yes, General Iakov.”

“If there is even one soldier killed, you are clear to use any means necessary. It’s time to make an example out of these people and let them know who is leading whom. For every dead soldier that lies on the ground, ten prisoners will be executed.”

“And the women, sir?” the major asks.

“Do what you will with them. It matters not.”

“Sir?” the major stutters.

“Major, let’s get one thing clear. We are not in the business to make hospitable accommodations for the weaker sex because they are light on the eyes. We have an agenda, and I’m here to make a point. Do I make myself clear?” General Iakov snaps.

“Yes … yes, sir, General.”

I’ve never wanted someone dead in all my life more than I do right now. I quickly hand the binoculars back to Finnegan and run to get my bow with a couple of explosive-tipped arrows ready. I want to be prepared in case those helicopters were purposely deployed in hopes of finding us; by their low altitude, they appear to be in a search formation.

“Gabe, how far will the remote reach the charges?” I ask.

“It should reach; we’re only about three to four hundred yards away.”

“Are you sure there are enough explosives down there to bring those buildings down?” I ask.

“You put enough down there to blow up four city blocks. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that will cover it.”

“Then shouldn’t we be further back?” I ask, looking at him with wide eyes.

“These are not ordinary explosives, like that outdated C4 or Semtex. They deliver thermo compression across the plane and down instead of up and out; however, I’ve modified one of the charges that you may have placed inside the prison.” Gabe scratches his head for a moment and looks a bit worried.

“Yeah, and … ?” I say.

“And, we should probably be okay.”

“Probably?” Finnegan says.

“What?” Gabe asks, shrugging his shoulders.

“Sorry, but you can’t sell an answer with
probably.
I was looking for more of a
definitely be okay, guys,”
says Finnegan.

“Were definitely going to be okay, guys!” Gabe repeats with enthusiasm. “Most likely,” he adds softly. I give him a stern look with my eyebrows furrowed.

Suddenly, the car door slams, startling us, as we all turn around to see Juliana sitting in the backseat with her hands on her face. The window rolls down, and Juliana’s head peers out.

“Well, I probably shouldn’t be out there anyway, but I’ll definitely be safer in here, and I will be most likely praying,” she says as the window rolls back up. We all look at Gabe for assurance.

“She may have a point,” says Gabe.

The trucks come rolling in one behind the other, stopping right outside the entrance along the torn chain-link fence. A few minutes pass before any soldiers start exiting the vehicles in a two-by-two formation.

The two helicopters circle the entire premise a couple of times before landing inside the prison walls. We wait until every soldier has been deployed inside the buildings before setting off the explosives. Finnegan puts down his scope and tries to dial into their radio frequency to make sure these are the only troops that were sent. While I look closer at the soldiers moving inside the entrance, I notice something very different about their uniforms.

These men are not dressed in the typical federal black-and-blue uniforms we are used to seeing; instead, they are draped in solid black with three buttons down the middle. The high boots really set them apart from the normal federal officers, but it is the insignia along the sleeve cuff that catches my attention—it is a black-on-white band with two red stripes that run around the band. Half the men are wearing helmets that slope in the back with decals of a red hammer and sickle like
that of the Russian flag, but there are also two black lightning bolts that cross over two red stripes on a white background.

I try to find the leader of the outfit in the front of the pack near the entrance to see if he’s decked out in the same garb, but he isn’t. He is dressed in the standard-issued federal officer uniform, but as I turn the dials on the scope to get a closer look, I notice a skull pin on the major’s collar.

Suddenly, a voice comes over the dispatch radio again: “General, my men are combing the area now, but there is no sign of her,” he says.

“The casualties?” General Iakov asks.

“Yes, sir,” the major responds.

“How many?”

“Sir, it’s … it’s hard to say at this time.”

“Major, when I ask a direct question, I expect a direct answer. How many?”

“All of them, sir.”

Either we lost transmission of the signal, or the dead silence on the radio is the result of the anger displayed on the general’s face right now. “Major, call me on my private line, please.”

After a few minutes pass, the remaining soldiers enter into the compound with the others searching for traces of our presence. I look at Gabe to give him the go-ahead, as Finnegan, Henry, and I start backing up toward the car. Before Gabe sets off the explosives, I quickly stop him. “Gabe, wait!” I say as the radio cracks once again.

“Bravo 129, this is the major requesting prisoner status, do you read?”

“Sir, the cells are empty.”

“Which block?” the major asks.

“All of them, sir,” the man says as the radio signal whistles and crackles.

Finnegan rushes over to try and fix the signal, but the frequency is being interfered by something else that is near. Right then, one of the helicopters slowly takes off while the radio briefly comes back on with a crackling voice.

“Major, I don’t care what it takes—you find her and bring her to me. I will be waiting here at the training facility in Greensville,” says General Iakov.

“Greensville?” Gabe asks. I look over and Finnegan drops his head and sighs because General Iakov knows that’s where we are headed.

“Looks like we are taking a road trip to Virginia,” Finnegan says.

As the chopper starts to ascend out of the compound, I turn and shout toward Gabe, “Now, Gabe, now!” The west wing rattles violently to the ground as windows explode from their frames, projecting shards of glass up into the air. Like a domino effect, the east wing and administrative buildings burst into a cloud of blistering flames and immediately collapses, killing anyone within a hundred and fifty yards. The last explosive charge does the most damage, exploding out and upward into the air. A bright plume of fire fills the skies, shaking the earth, spewing fragments of metal and brick toward the helicopter.

The pilot becomes blinded by the black smoke from burning diesel tanks, and the flying shards of steel cut through the air, striking the sides of the chopper cockpit. The chopper spins out of control and into the pile of burning rubble below. The massive devastation leaves no survivors, and I stand there wondering how many men have died in vain just to see another suffer in death.

We jump in the car and leave before the black cloud of smoke blowing in our direction impairs our vision from driving back down the hill. Fortunately, that’s the only thing that blew in our direction. While driving away from the prison, there is stillness in the car, like the calm of a spring breeze competing against the silent flapping of a hummingbird’s wings. No one says anything, but they are all thinking the same thing—that last piece of conversation on the radio before the explosions.

“You do realize we aren’t just going to walk into that training facility unnoticed. It’s used to train the deadliest of soldiers, and you better believe there will be cameras watching this time. Besides, our agenda is not with Iakov, so keep your hatred secluded.” Finnegan says to me.

“I want him dead!” I angrily retort.

“I understand, but do you know what we’ll have to sacrifice if we don’t stick to the plan. You said yourself the Capitol is where we stop the enemy, to which I agree. So my concern is with our Head of State, not some general pissing in your Cheerios.”

“I have to do this, it’s my—”

“Vengeance is going to scar you, and get us all killed. We stick to the plan.”

“Sooner or later, I’m going to face him, with or without you.”

“Well, until then, the president is our target.”

Gabe rubs his hands through his hair in frustration, and his confusion forces him to blurt out, “Wait!”

“What is it?” Henry asks.

“It’s just … as if he knows we are coming.”

“Of course he knows, that’s why he said it, and why we need to act fast,” I add.

“In time, but not now,” Finnegan asserts.

“He knew we were listening to the conversation. He’s just trying to throw us a bone. He’s laying out the breadcrumbs for us to follow. He’s tired of chasing us. He wants us to come to him,” I say pleading my case.

“If he knows, then we are just setting ourselves up for a trap,” says Finnegan.

“Exactly,” I say.

“Well, I hope you have a good plan then,” Finnegan says.

I know the Capitol is where our agenda lies, but all I can think about is Iakov now. The President is the least of my worries. I rest my head back against the seat and remain silent until we stop again. I don’t want the others to know that I’m planning to go into the training facility alone. We have many miles ahead of us before we reach the Capitol, and I don’t want the little time we have together to hinder our fellowship. The only way I can know for sure that General Iakov will be in the belly of that fortress is to see him face to face, and I know he would rather have me alive than dead. But it matters not; I will either see him in this life or haunt him in another.

My eyes glaze over as I fall into a deep trance. The silence in the car has hypnotically transformed my thoughts into another vision. This one is so clear, it’s like I’m in the very room, touching the walls. There is a large table sitting in an empty space of white in a location that is unfamiliar. Sitting at the table are ten world leaders discussing international diplomacy. Although every party and their constituents share the same conflict resolution strategy in creating a global support network for each other, each leader still stays grounded in their future endeavors as they continue to argue over one another. Each leader has a nameplate in front of them. Some of the names I already recognize from the news.

It appears to be a private summit that is beyond the scope of just talk. It is devised to combat immediate resolution against an international revolt created by the Israeli government. Sitting from left to right is Gennadi Gorshkov of Russia, who heads the conference, but his face eludes me. I try hard to get a glimpse of him, but my eyes can’t seem to look directly at him. It’s as if he’s faceless. Whatever is subconsciously distracting me from seeing him, it’s unnerving. It’s like being in a dream where you’re moving in quicksand. No matter how hard you try, you never seem to get anywhere.

Sitting around the table is Delun Yeung of China, Yasin Talbani of Iraq, Arturo Sardina of Cuba, Fedor Hoffmann of Germany, A’zam Naifeh of Saudi Arabia, Akbar Khatami of Iran, Anwar Mubarak of Egypt, Faruq Asefi of Afghanistan, and Nikolai Kriel of the United States.

These are the last of the great nations that hold absolute sovereignty, although there is nothing great these nations have offered in the last forty years. England, the last of the withering global forces, was slowly absorbed by the Federal Republic of Germany during the last decade, giving up all political rights, but still sustaining a superfluous amount of wealth, which has contributed to the political climate change over the last twenty years.

America hangs on by a thread because of foreign beneficiaries like China and Russia, who in exchange are using America’s technological
moxie and political arrogance to sway global relations. America will only last as long as the Russian and Chinese governments control economical trafficking. The United States is still considered a world power by its name alone, but it is becoming less and less potent.

Arguing ensues among the men sitting at the table as they discuss the true motives behind Israel’s rebellious behavior. “Israel has the capabilities to destroy a nation, and we can’t assume otherwise,” says Kriel.

“Yes, and how do you know this?” Hoffmann asks.

“Because we supplied them with those capabilities,” answers Kriel.

“But you must remember, you have dissolved that relationship with them for over ten years now,” says Sardina.

“Ally or not, they still hold the technology we provided,” says Kriel.

“The question is whether they have the guts to use it,” chimes in Sardina.

“My American counterpart will agree that if we don’t devise a plan soon, then this stalemate will only delay and hinder not only our current economic status, but also the future of a one-world government that we all seek,” says Gorshkov.

“What do you intend we do, then? Sacrifice our nations for a cause that you may or may not guarantee?” Talbani spouts off.