Sic Semper Tyrannis (36 page)

“Oh, don’t worry, son,” said President Suthby as he leaned back in his chair.  An aide handed him a glass of Scotch on the rocks.  He took a sip and watched the screen.  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

AT THE LOW POINT of the tunnel, the lead Stryker began the long, bumpy climb back up toward New York.  Major Hughes watched it on the screens in his vehicle.  The small monitors served as windows, depicting the dark world outside the armored Stryker.  Hughes frowned at the abandoned cars which choked the tunnel.  Even over the rumbling of the big diesel engine, he could hear the sound of the first Stryker smashing cars and trucks out of its way.  Broken glass and plastic glittered in the lights of their armored transports as the soldiers drove uphill toward the tunnel exit.

“Cars getting thick up here, sir.  Gonna have to slow down some,”
advised the driver.

So many people were trapped down here when the shit had hit the fan back in the summer…they just got up and left their cars.  He peered through the camera into the gloom around them as the Stryker rumbled forward.  He decided that if his car had been stuck down in the belly of this dark tunnel, he sure as hell would have left it, too.

“2-1, Actual.  Tell your driver to keep the hammer down.  That pilot is counting on us.”

“Roger that.” 

Hughes turned and looked over the troops in his vehicle.  To a man, they were busy checking and rechecking weapons.  A few casual nods and hand motions were all the talking they needed. 

“
Starting to detect light up ahead.  I think we’re almost there
,” said the voice of the driver.

“2-1, Actual.  Watch for movement at the exit.  Keep it scoped.”

Soon enough, the darkness ahead of even the rear Stryker began to give way to the light of day as they climbed higher up the exit ramp.  As the mouth of the tunnel widened, the lead Stryker pulled off to the left and Maj. Hughes’ driver parked on the right. 

“Right here’s, good,” Hughes called out over the vehicle command frequency.

“
Yes, sir
,” replied the driver, hidden in the cockpit forward of the vehicle commander in his turret.  He brought the vehicle to a stop behind a crude barrier made of abandoned civilian cars.  The camera showed swirling smoke so thick it appeared to be an overcast day.   Just behind them on the other side of the tunnel the sun was shining in afternoon glory.

“
Any contacts?” asked Hughes as he manipulated the camera control to pan around the tunnel exit.  He zoomed past a sign pointing toward New York 495 and peered into enemy territory. 

The streets on the other side of the barricade were deserted, but trash, debris and a few bodies were in plain sight.  Ash fluttered about in the air and the ever present smoke created patches of fog that drifted through their field of view.  Abandoned cars on sidewalks and in the middle of the road made the scene before him surreal.

Hughes glanced down at the map on his forearm digital display.  The blinking blue dot—the last known location of the pilot—glowed over a park to the south of their location.  He pinched-zoomed and saw it was Washington Square Park.   That was where he’d start the search.

“Driver, can you get us through this barricade?” he asked.  “We need to get moving south.”

“Hooah, sir.
”  The Stryker shuddered as the driver shifted into gear.  “
Hold on to your butts, ladies.
”

IT WAS CLEAR TO the President that the people of New York had mostly fled on foot when the rioting began and spread with the fires.  The initial violence had apparently erupted from Midtown Manhattan.  The worst damage seemed to be concentrated just outside the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.

Major Hughes swung his head back around to look at the soldiers inside the Stryker and the image on the screen in the War Room blurred for a moment, then focused once more. 

“
We’ve had reports of runners in this area, so everyone stay sharp when we disembark,
” Hughes said.  He pointed at one of the grim-faced men. 
“That means you, Compos.  No heroics today.  I ain’t telling Maria you got your ass killed over this, you get me?”

“Yes, sir
,” replied the man with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

“
Eyes in the sky say the road’s clear all the way to our target area
,” said a voice off-camera.

The camera panned left as Hughes turned around to see the speaker.  Then it tilted down as another soldier unfolded a map by flashlight.  Hughes reached out to help steady one side as the paper crinkled, the noise loud even over the rumble of the Stryker’s engine.

“
God
damn
, this town is big
…” the soldier muttered quietly, examining the map.  The camera got a good shot of Hughes’ hand on the edge of the map. 

Suthby frowned.  “Can we get him to move?  I can’t see anything…”   He looked around the room but only saw shrugs. 

After a discussion over fields of fire and small unit tactics that the President found completely uninteresting, the soldier finally folded up the map and tucked it away.  Hughes turned to look at his wrist-mounted map.  The screen showed some unintelligible symbols and a blinking blue dot.

“
All right, people—we’re approaching the target.  Get your shit wired.
”

The screen jerked as their vehicle came to a stop and the engine cut off.  After the constant droning of the Stryker’s engines for the past 30 minutes, the silence was deafening.  None of the soldiers moved.  It was as if they were holding their collective breath.   President Suthby heard a barely audible, low, constant rumble. 

“What’s that?” he asked to an aide.  The younger man shrugged and walked over to a control panel to ask a technician.

“What’s all that noise?
” echoed Major Hughes’ voice on the main screen as he checked his M-4.  

“
I got nothing up here!
” called out a voice from in the semi-darkness.

“That’s the driver, sir,” offered the Chief of Staff of the Army.

“I gathered that,” said Suthby with a sour note. 

“
Camera’s not showing shit.  All right, pop the hatch, let’s have a look-see
.”  Hughes jostled for position as the soldiers got to their feet.  He did one more visual check of his men and then hit the hatch release button.  The lights went out and a green flashing light lit the crew compartment. 

“
Stay frosty, people.
”

The sound of hydraulic pumps and seals releasing crackled over the speakers in the War Room just as a pencil-thin beam of light appeared on the screen and began to widen into an all-encompassing white.

MAJOR HUGHES RUSHED OUT of his Stryker rifle up and at his shoulder.  He took three steps off the ramp and scanned his immediate surroundings.  Seeing no threats, he moved to the side of the big APC and took a knee to get his bearings.  Behind him, he could hear his men fanning out and securing the area around their vehicle.

The driver had parked in the intersection of 5th Avenue and Washington Square North, pointing the nose of the Stryker right at the Washington Square Arch.  Hughes found himself on the right side of his vehicle, facing west.  The apartment buildings that lined the street on the north side had been partially burned to the ground.  Soot-covered rubble blocked the road further west where one had collapsed.

Hughes keyed his throat mic.  “Seeker 2-1, Actual.  I got bodies in the street up Square North.  How copy?”

“
Five by, Actual.  We’re out and in position.  East is clear.
”

“Get across the street into the park, let’s see what we can find.”

“Roger that.
”

“Anybody got a visual on what’s causing that noise?” Hughes asked as he watched his team leapfrog across the trash-littered street into the park.

“Negative
,” replied one of the men.  “
But someone sure did a number on the arch.  There’s two cars sticking out of the damn thing.  Stinks over here
.”

“That’s ‘cause these bodies been here since the summer, man.  Shit…”

“
Cut the chatter
—”

“Hey!  I got foot mobiles to the east!” called out a voice behind him.  Hughes spun around to see one of his vehicle commander point east from the hatch on top of his Stryker. 

A car full of people careened around the corner of University Place.  A hubcap flew off the left front tire and continued to clatter across the street.  Hughes jerked his head back to the right to peer down the street and his rifle followed a split second later. 

The car fishtailed as it approached, tires squealing.  Arms of various colors were flailing out every window.  Three more cars followed in pursuit, guns popping in the distance.  A bullet ricocheted off one of the Strykers and whistled over Hughes’ head.  He ducked around one charred corner of the arch.

“Cover!”
he yelled.

His team scattered and sought defensive positions.  The men that had been in his Stryker gathered around the base of the Arch.  Captain Summer’s squad fanned out into the parkland nearby, hiding behind trees and walls.

“
Permission to engage!
” said the Stryker commander.

“Granted!  Give those civvies some cover,” ordered Hughes.  Rules of engagement be damned, there was a car-load of people fleeing for their lives from three groups of men with guns.  He knew his squad was tasked with finding and rescuing the pilot, but his orders to not engage the enemy outside of those parameters had chafed him from the moment he’d read them.

Hughes leaned around the corner of the Arch in time to see the .50 on top of his Stryker erupt in an ear-splitting rattle of fire and lead.  The first of the pursuing cars stopped as if it had hit a brick wall.  The hood crumpled under the computer targeting system’s relentless assault.  In less than a second, the car exploded and collapsed on the ground in a flaming heap.  The turret on the Stryker swiveled to the next car, which swerved around the first and crashed into a brownstone townhouse.

Hughes shifted his gaze to the third car.  That driver whipped his car out of the line of fire and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street.  The engine raced and he left black marks in the road as he exited the area.  The Stryker sent a few rounds downrange and shattered the car’s rear window. 

DANIEL GASPED AND LEANED forward over the conference table next to President Suthby.  “What’s happening?   What’s causing that static?”

“Some kind of interference, sir.  It’s not on our end,” said a technician in the shadows behind the group.

“
Sssh!
” hissed the President.

Major Hughes’ helmet-cam rolled around the corner of the Washington Square Arch.  Less than a block away, the car full of refugees had crashed into a street lamp.  The result was a tangled, broken mess of metal and flesh.

“
Sir!
” Captain Summers grunted off-camera, aiming his M-4 down the street towards the accident.  The barrel of the weapon appeared on the left of the screen.  “
Do we render aid?
” 

Static blurred the screen, partially obliterating Hughes’ reply. 
“—two men, but make it quick.  We’re not here to engage the enemy,
” replied the major.   The image on the screen focused on the smoking hulk of the car wrapped around the light post.  Two people had been ejected through the bloody, shattered windshield.  A third—or what looked like part of a third person—hung from the rear passenger window.  Debris and broken glass covered the intersection.  Hughes’ camera could pick out at least five bodies and pieces of bodies spread out around the crash site. 

The President heard shots fired in the distance.  They sounded like firecrackers.  The screen shifted as Hughes crouched and ordered commands for his soldiers to take cover.  After a moment, when no attack came, he spoke, “
They’re just shooting—” 
More static broke through.  Then it cleared and the screen shifted back to the car crash and the two soldiers cautiously picking through the wreckage.

“
Any survivors?” Hughes yelled.

“Negative, sir!”
replied one of the soldiers.  “
God, what a mess.
”

“Fine.  Get back here,”
Hughes said and waved at the two men to return to the main group. 

“
Sir!  I got a lock on the seat transponder!
” said a new voice off-screen.  Major Hughes jerked his head around to find the soldier who had spoken.

“Where?”

A soldier with his rifle on his back and carrying a black box strapped to his chest pointed south.  “
That way, about half a click.  Good signal strength, sir
.”

“
Let’s move out, ladies, we got a pilot to rescue!
” Hughes called out.  The image panned down as he thumbed the fire selector on his rifle.