Overture (Earth Song) (52 page)

“
It’s leave now or get cut off from Central Park,” an aide informed him in a somber tone.

“
Can 3
rd
Company move to reinforce our troops here?”

“
They haven’t responded since the last helicopter landing on the Upper East Side; we’ve marked them off the board.” On that board a symbol representing attacking infantry units was updated again, and now it was considerably closer to the command post.

“
Time to go,” Hipstitch said and got to his feet, “Order all 'A' list units to fall back toward Central Park and form a defensive perimeter. Order all other units to hold at all costs.”

“
Yes, sir. Orders are going out.”

“
Don’t screw around son, or you’re going to have some explaining to do.”

Hipstitch
rode the elevator up to the City Hall lobby and strode out onto the famous steps. The streets were full of smoke and the sounds of battle were growing closer. Right on cue, a platoon of Humvees rolled to a stop and waited while the general and his aides trotted down the steps. As he climbed aboard the middle (and most protected) truck, small arms rounds winged off the armored vehicle. A moment later the convoy started up, weaving through the hundreds of abandoned vehicles between them and Central Park. They wouldn’t get there easily.

“
Gunships!” yelled his driver and all the trucks in their convoy began swerving as a flight of attack copters appeared out of nowhere and pounded them with gunfire.

“
Get us some air support!” Hipstitch yelled as powerful cannon fire tore the vehicle next to his into flaming scrap metal, flinging its crew all over the road. Farther back in the convoy, a single ineffectual rocket arced into the sky, but it hit the corner of a building and spun away. A second later a round tore through his own vehicle and blew the brains of one of his aides all over the inside of the compartment. “Damn it, get us off the main road!”

His
driver abandoned the rest of the column and cut the truck sideways. They crashed into an abandoned luxury car and over a pair or compact cars to end up ricocheting down a trash-strewn alley. Hipstitch craned his neck to see the street behind them awash in flame and explosions as the gunships chewed his column into bloody pieces. Three other trucks made it out behind them and a fourth nearly reached the safety of the alley but was caught by a rocket and flipped end over end.

“
Good job driver, keep to the side streets, don’t stop for anything!” Only a few blocks later they came upon a scene of utter devastation. Several towering skyscrapers had met a terrible end and collapsed onto each other. The mountains of debris extended for blocks in every direction and created a dense haze of dust that kept them hidden from the marauding helicopters. To get back on course would involve using a major crossroad. “Shit,” he said simply, as he wrinkled his nose from the dust that had begun seeping inside his vehicle. Then his cell phone rang.

“
Hipstitch.”

“
Where are you?” asked a voice.

“
This Skinner?”

“
Who else?”

“
We’re bottled up about twenty blocks from the park,” he said then looked around for a street sign before giving him more specific locations. The line was silent for several long seconds before Leo spoke again.

“
Turn east for three blocks,” the other man said.

“
That’s away from the park, what good does that do-”

“
You want to get to the park or not?”

“
Of course I do, damn it, you think I want to die on this doomed world?”

“
Then do what I say.”

“
How do you know?” Hipstitch demanded suspiciously.

“
I can teach or we can do, what’s it going to be old man?”

“
Fuck!” Hipstitch barked and slammed a beefy fist down on the Hummer’s armrest. There was nothing he hated more than not being in control of a situation. “Fine, tell me what to do.”

Instructions
in hand, Hipstitch passed them on to his wide-eyed driver. The man gulped but followed orders and the diminished convoy spun around to head away from their objective.

They
left the collapsed buildings behind and turned on a smaller avenue leading them south for a mile. The street was even more littered with burned out cars and debris. Time and again they had to hang on as the drivers were forced to either crash through obstacles or use the Hummers’ brute force to shove wreckage out of the way.

Finally
the convoy shoved its way out onto a main boulevard and darted across as quickly as it could. A flurry of small arms fire ricocheted off the trucks and several dozen people appeared in their path. Many of them held fluid filled bottles with burning rags stuffed in them as they ran toward the convoy.

“
Go back!” screamed Hipstitch. “Get someone on the damn roof guns!” The weapons were unmanned because of the random sniper activity but now they had targets. In each of the three Hummers, the armored roof hatch slid back and a man wearing heavy tactical armor emerged. The vehicles were each armed with a roof mounted 7.62mm M-60 machine gun. The chattering guns chewed up the Molotov cocktail-wielding attackers in seconds. The people wanted nothing to do with an armed military convoy and as the Hummers’ wheels squealed backwards they left their dead and ran. Only one bottle struck the ground near the retreating Hummers and none of its flaming content found its mark.

The
drivers chose the next street over without asking the vehicle’s occupants. That was fine with Hipstitch who was busily checking the load on his sidearm and then taking an M-4 from its rack behind his seat. “Lock and load boys, I got a bad feeling.” The men exchanged worried looks and quickly began examining their own weapons.

“
Straight shot to the park!” the driver yelled a moment later. The Hummer’s engine roared and they rocketed forward across a wide avenue. Just before the park’s perimeter something slammed into the side of the Humvee and sent it spinning. The men yelled or cried out and the wheels squealed in protest. The Hummer smashed against the curb and was vaulted into the air where the hood hit a telephone pole. The pole splintered with the impact of the three-ton truck which went spinning into what remained of a fashionable coffee shop.

Through
the explosion of disintegrating masonry and shattering glass, Hipstitch was aware that the Humvee was being torn apart. It all happened in a second, but to him it seemed like an eternity. When the truck finally came to rest upside down amidst the devastated coffee shop it took him some time to realize he wasn’t dead. Especially when he looked down in the gloom to see the front of his BDU was awash in bright red blood.

“
Is anyone else alive?” he grunted and moved to see where the blood was coming from. His left hip had a sharp pain in it, probably from having his obese frame hung upside down by the seat belt, but that was all he could find wrong. There was a fair amount of light shining into the truck and he looked to find the source. He looked at the decapitated corpse of the gunner who had manned the roof machine gun. That explained the blood.

“
I’m alive up here, General,” said the driver who was extricating himself from his seat belts.

“
I’m moving too,” said another man from the far back seat.

“
God, help…” moaned a voice nearby.

Hipstitch
bent himself over as far as his fat belly would allow and flipped the seatbelt release. His huge bulk crashed down onto the bloody roof with a wet thud.

“
Son of a bitch,” he groaned and rolled over toward the man who had called out. He was not in a good way. The man was half out a window, his legs and torso crushed between the Humvee floor. Blood was leaking out of the man’s nose and ears and he was trying to pull himself free. “You’re dead, son.”

“
No, I’m just stuck here, please help me, sir. It doesn't even hurt!”

“
Goodbye,” he said and ponderously climbed out of the roof gunner’s port, moving the headless body out of the way. The other two survivors were close behind.

“
Don’t leave me,” pleaded the man in the ruined Hummer. Outside there was sporadic gunfire.

Hipstitch
still had the M-4 he'd gotten from the Hummer. He raised it to the ready as the other two men joined him at the front of the shop. “We’re coming out!” yelled one of them, who popped his head out to examine the situation. “We’re clear,” he told his general, “our men control the street.”

“
Let’s go then, son,” Hipstitch ordered and they climbed out. Just as he’d been told his men were in control of the street, but it wasn’t a good-looking situation. The other two Hummers had been wrecked as well and now he could see how. Some creative characters had commandeered a pair of garbage trucks and waited for the Army convoy, then simply rammed them from a side alley. The general’s Hummer was the first and most successful ramming, but the other two were effective enough. Most of the entrepreneurs paid with their lives and the streets were again empty. He joined the sad remains of his personal command. A half hour ago they set out from City Hall with ten vehicles and nearly a hundred men. Now they were nine soldiers, and on foot.

“
This is the only way!” yelled one of the noncoms. Hipstitch looked in the direction the man was pointing. Trees could just be seen through the growing night. Though the city was shrouded in a permanent haze from the fires that raged everywhere, they could still the night sky above them. Unfortunately the street was wide and open to the sky.

“
Maybe without the vehicles we won’t draw fire,” Hipstitch thought aloud. “Well, let’s make a run for it, boys. Keep together and stay on the sidewalks. Fire at anyone who approaches, and don’t stop for anything!”

They
did as the general told them. All nine men burst into a trot, easily keeping pace with their rotund commander. Every time a shot came from a side street or a building window many floors above them, it was instantly answered by automatic fire. The fusillade either convinced their attackers to look for easier prey or killed them outright. But by the time they were only two blocks from the park they were all dangerously low on ammo. And it was then that they spotted what lay in their way.

About
two dozen people, all looking dirty and ragged, stood across the width of the street. They were all holding hands in a continuous chain leading from one side of the street to the other. The soldiers approached cautiously until they could hear the people singing. It sounded like a hymn, but one none of them had ever heard before. “-to take me away. The Avatar is near, my remaining time draws near; oh, give me the will to do what must be done!”

“
Clear the street!” Hipstitch yelled at them. When there was no response he fired a single shot from his machine gun in the air. There was a pause in the singing but they quickly resumed. “I said move!” he roared at them and strode closer, his troops following. This time he fired a three round burst into the concrete at their feet. Concrete splinters flew up at the group hitting several of them and making one man fall to the ground screaming. The people closed ranks, the fallen man being replaced by a woman who had been sitting to the side, just out of view.

“
Prepare to fire,” Hipstitch growled to his men.

“
But sir-” a corporal complained.

“
But what, mister?”

“
They’re unarmed civilians,” said another man, a private with a bloody arm bandage. Hipstitch raised his weapon and fired on full automatic. His gun went empty almost immediately but not before sending two more of the singers spinning to the ground in bloody heaps.

“
General!” his oldest aide yelled in surprise.

“
They’re blocking our way to the park,” the general said and ejected the spent magazine from his weapon, “you idiots want to die here?” The looks on their faces were not encouraging. Neither was the fact that he couldn’t find a spare magazine. “I’m out of ammo, one of you men give me a magazine then help me clear the street.” None of them moved. “You bunch of fucking cowards,” he said and moved to grab one of their guns. The man yanked it back and shook his head. “What’s your problem? I’m giving you all a direct order!”

“
Killing innocent civilians?” asked another man.

“
In this case, yes!”

“
Then the order is illegal,” said the senior noncom who stepped back and lowered his gun. No one noticed several of the singing men and women remove shiny metal tubes. With a solid smack each tube launched a bright phosphorous flare into the night sky.

“
What are they doing?” Hipstitch yelled and dropped his rifle, pulling out his sidearm instead. The 9mm popped again and again as the aging general fired with slow deliberation. One, two, three, four of the people went down under his fire. Then a rifle butt came out of nowhere and slammed into his gun hand. He yelped more in surprise as the weapon was knocked from his grip.