Overrun: Project Hideaway (4 page)

“If we do this, we have to
completely follow through. We cannot bring them out and order them to just sit
up there and await the possibility of discovery by a hostile force. I think
that's a little more than you can expect from anyone.”

“We need to wake them up and
bring them back immediately," Rone agreed with him.

At that moment, the lights
dimmed, the coffee mugs on the table rattled, and the walls surrounding them
shuddered. Electronic voices droned status reports in the outside corridors,
and flashes of red emergency lights spilled into the room.

"It may soon not be up to
us to decide," Kobus said grimly. "Since I joined the pilot research
team five years ago, a few things of note have given me great concern and make
me extremely apt to disagree. Particularly in regards to Major Jeff Barnes,
co-pilot of the Hideaway.

Rone lowered her eyes and wrung
her hands under the table while Kobus continued.

“With each and every
psychological discussion of Barnes that has come up, there has always been a
disturbing issue that seems to repeatedly surface. It’s small, very small. But
it’s an issue. It’s an issue that’s been there since the onset of the mission
and has been continuously overlooked due to this man’s elevated intelligence.”

Rone set her hands again on the
large meeting table and did her best not to clench them into tight fists.

“Barnes is a genius. A good man
to have on any crew. But not on a mission like this. He’s always shown signs of
paranoia. Small miniscule signs, many times overlooked because of his
intelligence and wealth of technical skill. But I tell you, it’s a threat. His
actions in pressure situations have always caused the scientists working on his
research small amounts of concern. And it’s for this very reason we cannot let
this be the man to bring the Hideaway down. He is a risk.

“Given the step-ups in security
qualifications and clearances as well as the initiation of the Vulture Program
since they went up, it is my opinion that he would not have been cleared for
this mission if the selection process had been made at a later date. He is only
a pilot, gifted in technical intelligence. But he is not a Vulture soldier.
Neither of them are.

“We have to take that into
consideration. We cannot make the mistake of assuming that both or even one of
them is going to act rationally. Especially after they figure out the severity
of the circumstances they will have awakened to find themselves in."

The lights in the briefing room
dimmed again. The groan of tortured steel echoed throughout the facility.

"We also have to take into
consideration that we are under attack," Rone shot back. "The
security of this dome and its scientific facilities are threatened. If we don't
at least bring them out of hibernation now, they could be up there
forever."

"Since I have joined this
team, both myself and a large amount of my colleagues have been second-guessing
the ability of Major Jeffrey Barnes to handle such a command. We have even gone
so far as to recommend that this man’s hibernation simply be terminated."

"You've done what?"
Rone turned on him in disbelief. "How dare you make these accusations and
recommendations without my consultation! How dare you go behind my back…”

"It has never been withheld
from your knowledge! We have submitted numerous reports to the dome governing
bodies!" Kobus shouted back. "You do know that! We don't think he can
do it! And that is why we can’t wake them up!"

Another explosion flashed across
the monitor. At the same time, the entire room tilted to one side. Drinks
splashed across the floor, and sparks spit from swinging lights. A female
scientist in the back of the room toppled sideways from her chair. Two men
hurried next to her to help her climb back into her seat. The sound of rushing
footsteps pounded just outside the doorway.

"I think what we have to do
here is plan for the possibility that this facility may be destroyed," Lt.
Commander Corrado said forebodingly from the front of the battle-rocked room.
Bright flames on the monitor jutted behind his shoulders while he spoke in the
dimness.

The lingering smoke of cigarettes
brought the battle burning outside further into the room. "The ignition of
the Death Wall may not save us. Right now we have to plan for that. Everything
else should be set aside," he said pointing at Rone and Kobus. "There
is a good chance the J.G.U. will get through."

"That does raise questions,
doesn't it?" the quiet strong voice came again from the back of the room.

"Please continue Dr.
Korcheck," Corrado said taking a step back and inviting him with a wave of
his hands to come up and take the floor.

"They could quite possibly
be up there forever," Korcheck continued before Corrado finished his
sentence. Korcheck pushed his chair away from the table and stood. He stepped
slowly to the front of the room talking as he did.

"We might not have been
lying to the later generations of their families when we told them they died a
few years back." Corrado moved away and sat down when Korcheck reached the
front of the table. "Their fate might really already have been decided.

“If the security of this dome is
compromised, there will be nothing for them to come back to," he looked
around the room staring each person directly in the eye. "We will all be
dead. And all the years we've put into this. All the people who are suffering
or have already died will have done so for nothing. And then the question will
be why.

“If the Beam Cannon Hardware is
never used, in a few years there might not be anyone left alive on this planet
to even ask. The J.G.U. are nowhere near capable of producing technology like
this. It's the reason they are here."

The room was silent. Long bits
of burned ash dangled from still lit cigarettes. The monitor at the front of
the meeting room had finally been switched off.

"But think about this. I
mean really thing about it. The ship containing the Beam Cannon Hardware is
still up there completely unmanned. An easy salvage for the J.G.U. if the war
continues on this course. A simple space retrieval once they figure out its
coordinates."

Explosions rocked the dome
again. Many of the scientists grabbed at coffee cups sliding across the table
and braced their legs to keep from being knocked to the floor. At the back of
the room, a different female scientist began to cry softly near Korcheck’s
empty seat.

"But that's just it,
Korcheck," Kobus spat. "They don't know anything about this."

"They will if the security
of this dome is compromised."

"What if we are
destroyed?" Kobus fired back again. "Everyone that ever knew about
Project Hideaway will be dead. If we wake the pilots, they could come down here
and bring the technology right to them. Hand it right over to the J.G.U. End
the war immediately by giving them precisely what they want."

"Not necessarily,"
Korcheck argued. "Safeguards have been built into the Hideaway systems to
prevent that type of unauthorized return."

"Those safeguards can
easily be defeated and you know that. What kind of a deterrent is death, when
you, as far as you know, are the only two people left alive from your country
or on the planet. There is nothing for them to lose.

“With this in mind, there is
that chance, a great one in my opinion, that they would attempt an unauthorized
return. We can't risk that happening."

"The nukes would prevent
that, Doctor," Rone spoke up again. "Any tampering with the safeguard
equipment or the follow through of unauthorized mission plans would result in
annihilation of the ship. And that is almost guaranteed not to happen due to
other safeguarding measures aimed individually at the pilots.”

“But right now, they are
vulnerable in space. Especially if we continue their hibernation. There is
nothing to prevent the J.G.U. from flying right up to that sleeping ship and
taking it over."

"What nukes?" Korcheck
asked suddenly looking startled. "The implementation of nuclear devices
into the Beam Cannon Hardware is not something ever…”

"If the pilots are awake,
no matter what the safeguards are, there is always the possibility they can
come down!" Kobus shouted ignoring Korcheck and slamming his fist on the
table. What if the plan fails and the United States ends up losing this war?
You will be risking paving the way for J.G.U. success. Their kind could
ultimately survive while the memory of ours is lost forever."

"You would rather have no
one use this technology?!" Korcheck raised his voice back at Kobus.
"You would rather the entire world sicken and die in the event of our
government's defeat. This is the kind of immoral and irresponsible thinking
that has brought us to this point today, Kobus!"

"Dr. Korcheck," Lt.
Commander Corrado stood from the table and moved towards his initial place at
the front of room. "That will…"

The loudest explosion yet
interrupted his sentence and threw him to the floor. Chairs overturned and
numerous legs lifted backward into the air.

The force of the explosion
knocked Korcheck from his feet and across the table in front of Kobus.

"Korcheck!" Kobus, one
of few who managed to continue standing, raged. "Your leftist take on this
entire situation is of no use here!” His finger jabbed with rabid accusation at
the young scientist’s face with every word.

Korcheck sprawled across the top
of the table and rolled back over to face Kobus. The blast had thrown him so
close that the tip of his nose almost touched Kobus’ outstretched finger.

"Be advised, all dome
personnel!" a mechanical voice sounded from the corridor and every open
communication channel in the room. "The Death Wall has been lit. Repeat.
The Death Wall has been lit. Stand by for battle status reports. Tower report
to commence in sixty seconds."

Lt. Commander Dome Leader Steven
Corrado reached across the table and helped Korcheck slide back to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Chris," he
said. The room shook again. Many of the scientists began to abandon the meeting
and head towards the door. "I think we're going to have to keep them in suspended
animation. Leaving them up there with the chance they may never wake up is a
small price to pay for the safety and security of that cargo."

"I disagree," Dr. Rone
said standing and walking towards the front of the room. A small group had
stayed behind to witness the final outcome of the discussion.

"There is no more time to
disagree," Kobus hissed through closed teeth.

"He's right, Dr.
Rone," the Lt. Commander agreed.

"Sir..." Korcheck
tried one last time.

"Sir," Dr. Rone said
interrupting Korcheck and stepping purposely ahead of Kobus. Her petite
determined figure separated him from the dome commander. "I think the best
thing we can do is wake them up. At least give the hardware some thinking
breathing guardians if anything. Guardians against being discovered."

"Or guardians against ever
being used," Korcheck added.

"Doctors Rone and
Korcheck," Kobus' voice was calmer and more controlled. "…taking the
chance that these two men may float in their sleep for all eternity is
necessary when considering the fact that waking them up could risk the
possibility of the technology, our technology, falling into the hands of the
J.G.U. If we die, then by God so will they."

Rone, Korcheck, Kobus, and the
small group of remaining scientists stood in a half circle in front of the dome
commander at the far end of the room. For the next moment, they were all
silent. The commotion in the outside corridors was becoming more intense.

"I agree," Corrado
said firmly. "Does anyone else wish to be heard?"

The faces of those that remained
were rigid, but none of them spoke. Some shook their heads resignedly while
others looked apprehensively towards the door.

"You're talking about the
future of life on our planet," Korcheck pleaded his case one last time.
Kobus had already turned his back and headed towards the corridor.

The lights in the meeting room
dimmed again and went completely out. A few seconds passed, and then the
emergency lighting cast an orange glow about the room. More of the scientists
headed for the door leaving only two to remain with the dome commander.

"Everyone back up your
data," Corrado called after the ones that were leaving. "All cloaking
shields are down, so send it up to the satellite and ship archives."

The commander walked away from
the table and towards the door. He turned and looked back at Rone and Korcheck
who still stood in the now dark briefing room.

"…just in case," he
finished. "Return to your stations, doctors. Make your back-ups. While
there is still time."

And with that he
was gone, the meeting to decide the fate of the Hideaway having now become
officially complete.

Shopping mall rooftop of destroyed town of Beuford
Five minutes past Death Wall ignition

Sixteen-year-old Brandon Kirken
dropped to one knee. Still held tightly by the man half-dragging, half-carrying
him away from the rooftop, his weight hauled them both to the ground. As they
fell, the door behind them to the rooftop disintegrated in a burst of heat and
flying metal.

General Maxwell A. Tuttle,
Quadrant 4 Vulture commander, raised his head from the pieces of the door that
had obliterated around them. Brandon’s limp form moved slightly next to him
buried under a pile of twisted metal and flaming wood. For the moment, they
were both still alive having narrowly escaped from the shopping mall’s
exploding rooftop.

It had only been a few moments
since the blast came from somewhere in the distance. A giant explosion from the
direction of the dome ripped through the city crippling his helicopter and
toppling it over the building’s side. It had exploded when it hit the ground
below.

The rescue attempt had lost more
lives than could now ever be saved. The helicopter crash left only himself and
the son of John Kirken alive and marooned in the upper levels of the mall’s
rooftop. Only a short metal hallway and the remnants of an exploded door
separated them from the fires and the death that consumed the outside.

Tuttle felt the ever increasing
numbers of the newly dead pour down across his head like a painful stinging
rain. John Kirken. His daughter. And Tuttle’s own crew.

It shouldn’t have surprised any
of them that the extraction attempt failed. None of them had come out here
specifically to save Kirken or his family awaiting their deaths on the rooftop.
Tuttle and his crew had flown out here to save themselves. By making the rescue
and pulling this man from the rooftop, they hoped to erase the guilt they all
felt. They sought to push back the demons that chased them and perhaps slightly
atone for the horrors of which they had been a part. The demons, however, no
longer chased the men in his crew. At least not in this life. Their worldly
guilt was erased the moment the chopper hit the fiery ground leaving Tuttle to
carry the already unbearable emotional load for them all.

Tuttle looked toward the
smoldering wreckage, which had just seconds before been the doorway to the
rooftop. Even above the roar of the chaos around them, he could hear the voices
approach them. Next to him, still lying half-buried in debris at the bottom of
the rooftop stairway, Brandon began to move his broken body. His breath came in
gasps, and his screams could be heard even above the howl of the aircraft
streaking overhead.

Gloved hands and slamming rifle
butts jabbed through the rubble that filled the doorway and separated them from
the rooftop. Pieces of concrete and metallic wreckage quickly began to fall
aside revealing the faces of the enemy J.G.U. soldiers attempting to break through.

The sound of boots scrambling up
metal stairs clanged somewhere behind them. Even above the din, the noise
echoed eerily in Tuttle’s head. The heat from both the blast and the stale air
trapped with them in the stairway was unbearable. Its stinging force felt
threateningly close to crushing his lungs.

It was only a matter of a very
short time before the J.G.U. soldiers would be upon them.

Gritting his teeth and trying to
shield his eyes from the heat searing through the air, Tuttle grabbed frantically
at the broken metal that held Brandon Kirken to the floor. The gloved hands
appearing in the shattered door now became full arms and were quickly followed
by the nose of a J.G.U. rifle. Tuttle reached for the Sunszk hand weapon
strapped to his hip.

But his reach was not in time.

Flames spit from the lip of the
soldier's rifle followed by the pain of metal slugs punching into his shoulder.
Tuttle felt his body rising through the chaos as if lifted by the grip of an
invisible angel’s wings. But this lasted only a short time, and no angels
appeared to remove him from his plight.

The force of the shots entering
his body hurled his large frame through the air over Brandon still struggling
to stand from the exploded debris. Tuttle crashed behind him on top of another
pile of indistinguishable wreckage from the building still obliterating around
them.

Tuttle felt his head crash
against the floor and then dazedly sensed his body tumbling end over end down a
flight of stairs away from John Kirken’s son. A son he would be giving his life
to try and protect.

A large metal wall slammed into
the small of his back finally stopping his fall down the metal steps. Through a
haze of consciousness and almost blinded by the heat, Tuttle raised his arm and
pointed his Sunszk hand weapon around towards the top of the stairway near the
rooftop doorway. The sound of approaching jets followed by the thunder of
missile blasts and massive explosions roared from behind the shattered door.

The firebomb team was almost on
top of them.

Brandon wriggled free from the
last of the wreckage holding him to the floor and without getting up rolled his
battered frame over the stair ledge. Tuttle fired twice towards the coming
soldiers. The rounds exploded loudly throughout the enclosed stairway.

A body pitched forward through
the smoke and tumbled into the stairwell on top of Brandon. Brandon and the
dead soldier fell together down the metal stairs.

It was then the roof exploded.
The firebomb team had reached the area and started to make their drop over the
shopping mall.

Brandon and the dead soldier
crashed in a heap on top of Tuttle slamming his wounded shoulder against the
wall. Tuttle's eyes rolled back inside his head, but he did not scream. He
stood, grabbed Brandon by the straps of the pack across his back, and pulled
him roughly down the stairs after him. Flame surged through the doorway and
down the passageway engulfing the area around them. Their breaths coming in
tortured gasps, Tuttle and Brandon Kirken continued to half-fall, half-run down
the steps rocking back and forth from the outside blasts.

Another explosion knocked both
of them to the ground as the rooftop disintegrated into an instant fiery
nothingness. The entire stairway structure lurched violently to the side and
crumbled beneath their feet. With their arms flailing out towards anything to
stop their fall, Tuttle and Brandon Kirken pitched forward over a guardrail and
fell with the debris of the exploding building. What was left of the roof
rained down at their sides.

Tuttle forcefully opened and
closed his eyes several times trying to see through the raging smoke and fire.
He had landed on the ground level of the mall, and Brandon was nowhere in sight
within the debris and wreckage.

The fiery destruction all around
brought Tuttle back to the vision of John Kirken surrounded by flames just
moments earlier out on the rooftop. He knew Kirken was dead. He was dead the
moment his daughter slipped from his grasp into the fires raging at the base of
the building. Tuttle had physically seen Kirken’s spirit leave his body moments
before life was actually snatched from it by the violence of the surrounding
destruction.

Tuttle knew this image would be
etched forever inside his head.

Tuttle looked around at the few
walls and jagged metal structures now jutting into the open air. Fire spat into
the sky, and the sonic trails of the fleeing firebomb team boomed overhead.
Intense heat and small shards of flying metal blasted at his eyes and skin. He
held a hand over his face as he looked for Brandon in what was left of the
destroyed structure.

Tuttle stumbled forward.

Looking….

Searching…

Snatching glimpses at the bedlam
for as long as the stinging air would allow.

He moved towards the escalator,
one of few structures still standing in the gigantic fiery pit. It was almost
all that remained of the building that continued to disintegrate around him. He
leaned against it trying to ignore the screams of his wounded body. Shakily he
stood there, trying with the last of his strength to keep his promise to John
Kirken as well as honor his crew by at least getting out one of the people they
had flown in to rescue.

Trucks, tanks and soldiers
poured around the building. So far, the heat kept them from entering inside.
The sound and shake of explosions finally came to end. The world started to
become quiet and resemble reality once again.

Trying to find his way through
the thick black smoke, Tuttle searched desperately for any signs of Brandon
Kirken. Soldiers finally swarmed into the flaming structure and began to poke
through the rubble. A grim chill of despair and defeat had begun to settle
about Tuttle’s battered body when a smoking figure appeared from the blackness
behind the flames. The figure staggered to the head of the escalators one floor
directly above him. His body swayed uneasily as his legs struggled to remain
upright.

Tuttle ran up the smoking
swaying steps two at a time and grabbed Brandon Kirken before he dropped again.
The left side of his face was badly burned, and his arm cocked grotesquely to
one side. Fractured bone bulged through the skin just beneath his sleeve. As of
yet, it hadn’t broken all the way through. Like on the rooftop before the
missiles hit, Tuttle threw the arm of the limping figure over his good shoulder
and pulled him down the stairway.

The escalator stairs lurched
violently side to side knocking their flailing bodies hard against each other
and down to the ground. To their left, three stories of still-standing wall
toppled down pinning soldiers, crushing vehicles, and covering the scene with a
fresh blanket of smoke and debris. Tuttle stopped at the bottom of the
escalator, gritted his teeth, and heaved Brandon's now limp body into his
shaking arms.

The two slugs that had entered
the base of his shoulder dug deeper into his skin.

The soldiers hadn’t yet seen
them or reached where they stood. The inside of the mall had become part of the
unprotected outside. Beyond its walls, mammoth flames raged across what was left
of the city that had been destroyed instantly by the launch of Science Dome
15’s Death Wall more than a hundred miles away. There was nothing left overhead
except for the harshness of the unshielded sky.

Turning his back on what had
become of Beuford's largest shopping mall, Tuttle carried the lifeless form of
Brandon Kirken from the smoke, rubble, and fire. No soldiers followed. No
weapons flew. Brandon's head hung limply towards the ground. Smoke curled up in
short wisps from his skin and clothes.

The darkness settling around
them seemed to single Tuttle out alone from the flaming fray. Trying to make
him atone for what he had caused. For what he had witnessed. And what he had
done.

As a quadrant vulture commander
he was one four charged with initiating the plan. He had ordered whole cities
destroyed and initiated the starts of the blasts. He had judged worthiness of
life. Worse yet, he had not been able to stand up and stop those above him in
rank. He allowed himself to be ordered to implement the most heinous of acts in
his own mind that he could ever do.

He couldn’t imagine his actions
ever being forgotten or that the accusing spirit of John Kirken would ever stop
following him about.

In his head, Tuttle had always
felt he could justify what they did. They were carrying out mission orders for
the defense and sake of their country.

They didn’t stop to question
that these mission orders brought death to families like the Kirkens. Families
cast off long ago. Living people already considered dead by men in government
and military positions like his own.

That was the reason he felt
sudden loyalty to Kirken, a man he had only recently met. That was why Tuttle
risked his life in a pointless rescue attempt and squandered the lives of his
small crew. It was why he carried Kirken’s bloody son in his arms and ran
towards the darkness of the night. Tuttle ran from the shame and dishonor his
actions had brought to them. Actions now set in motion that could never be
undone.

Tuttle was there to save a
single person, one salvation to offset the millions already killed or ordered
dead. Even if the life he protected was only one man’s son, he pledged to God
this one man’s son he would forever defend.

Only the night lay in wait
ahead.

Cautiously, he looked out into
the brightly lit gloom. With a final deeply-inhaled breath, Tuttle stepped out
into the darkness.

He sensed the angels of the dead
following closely after him. He could hear them whispering in his ear as he
walked. Some encouraging, others making emphatic threats. Both to his
well-being in this life and in that which would come in the next.

Tuttle prayed
earnestly to God to spare the young man covered in blood in his arms. At least
for awhile yet while they both entered the dark void away from the destruction he
had helped to create.

To at least give Tuttle a chance
to make amends for his contributions to this war and start to repent for what
he had done.