Chapter 12

“This damn fog sucks,” Jack, captain of the catamaran, muttered to Terry as the watercraft headed south on the Delaware River.

“It works both for us and against us,” Terry pointed out, as he stared out into the eerie darkness. Even with the lights on board, visibility on the river was less than a hundred meters.

Still, they’d made good time and were slightly ahead of schedule. They were a couple of kilometers from their landing point. They had an old GPS unit in their hands which let them know exactly where they were. There were still enough operational satellites in orbit to enable the use of GPS. Without it, this thick fog would have made the operation impossible. They simply would not have been able to determine their own location.

Jack noticed with irritation that the lower deck was much more crowded than earlier in the trip. “Why is everyone down here?” he grumbled. “There’s not enough room for everyone. Too much frigging body odor. Send some people upstairs.”

Terry just shrugged his shoulders, but Zax supplied an answer. “It’s that goddamn Unk. Dropped a massive deuce on the floor up there. Chased everyone down here.”

A voice from the darkness proclaimed, “Upstairs has been declared the poop deck.” Laughter rippled throughout the occupants of the catamaran.

Terry thought, These people are far too cocky right now.

That would soon change. Moments later, a crunching sound could be heard coming from under the boat, as the entire vessel vibrated.

“Shit,” said Jack. “We’ve run aground. This fog makes everything harder, and now we’re screwed.”

However, one foolish but incredibly lucky individual proceeded to show them they still had hope. He jumped over the side into the river and found himself in shoulder-deep water. “Everybody jump out! The water’s not deep!” He made his way in the direction of the shore and found that the depth rapidly decreased.

Terry took charge from here. “Everybody down the ladder, one by one. Try to go as quickly as we can. Grab your supplies and weapons – hold them over your head, and don’t let them get wet.”

It took about twenty minutes for everyone to exit the catamaran and slosh their way to dry ground. Soon, they were assembled on the riverbank, soaking wet and shivering, but still on schedule to complete their mission.

Terry checked the GPS. “We’ll have to walk about a kilometer more than we figured – maybe a little more than that,” he said to the group.

“Do we have enough time?” a voice called out from somewhere in the foggy night.

“We do – if we get a move on,” Terry answered. “So, let’s do that. And let’s be as quiet as we can – starting right now. This fog keeps us hidden, but it’s also hard to know exactly how close the gate is.”

An hour later, dawn broke through the fog. The Delmarva security wall and guard stand were visible ahead. Terry signaled for silence and directed the shooters to move into position to take out the guards. They approached the gate confidently – even the perpetually doubtful Terry.

That’s when a loud fart rang out. Several of the less disciplined members of the group chuckled audibly.

“Shit,” Terry whispered to Zax, standing nearby. “That’s gotta be Unk. He’s given us away, and a few of these clowns have made it even worse.”

In fact, it was obvious that the Delmarva guards were now aware of their presence, as the sounds of humans rustling about inside the guard stand could be heard by all. “Stop!” called out a female voice. “Do not come any closer! We are armed, and reinforcements are on the way!” Another voice could be heard in the background, obviously calling in a report to the Delmarva leaders.

Their cover broken, Terry called out, “Let’s do it! Exactly as we planned!”

The entire force swarmed upon the gate. A brief gun battle ensued. The Delmarva guards didn’t stand a chance. They managed to take out two Huns, and seriously wound two others, before they themselves fell victim to gunfire. The remaining Hun ground forces swept through the now-undefended gate and were soon advancing toward their objective in the center of the community, about a kilometer away.

Bud Dillon was nervous. He was piloting the descending airplane containing fifty-four other Huns, presently almost due south of the Delmarva enclave, about to head into a final bank to approach the runway from the southeast. The cover of fog which shrouded the ground was plainly visible. He’d never attempted a landing in fog this thick. He’d be relying solely on his instruments.

“You got this under control, flyboy?” said Max Waters, the co-pilot. He’d displayed an obnoxious and arrogant attitude from the start, clearly resentful that he’d been relegated to mere co-pilot status. On top of that, he was roaring drunk, courtesy of a bottle containing some form of alcoholic concoction he’d managed to smuggle onboard. He took one more swig and then let out a loud belch.

Bud paid him no mind as he brought the airplane into the bank. Just land this plane, he thought. Just land it, and I can get away from this drunk asshole.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, loser!” shouted Max, slurring his words, his breath smelling like a brewery. “I asked you a fucking question! Do you have this under control? If not, why don’t you let me take over?”

“Back off, Max,” Bud said with a sigh. “It’s gonna be hard enough to land this thing without you screaming in my ear.” He ignored Max’s continued rants. He continued the bank until the plane was pointed toward the northwest – lined up perfectly with the runway. The fog layer – and the reduction in visibility – grew closer and closer as he continued to ease the throttle back and nudged the yoke forward.

Suddenly, Dan’s voice could be heard outside the cockpit. “What the hell is going on in there? Max, you need to shut the fuck up. Let him land the plane, goddammit!”

Upon hearing that, Max exploded and took out his anger on Bud. “You got me in trouble with the boss, asshole!” He shoved Bud hard, causing him to press forward on the yoke. The plane suddenly dropped precipitously and began to yaw to the left.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted a frightened Bud, trying to regain control. To make things worse, the plane had now entered the layer of fog. Bud turned and glared at Max – just in time to see the punch coming, but unable to deflect it. It caught him square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. The plane continued onward, out of control. Max, of course, had his own set of controls on the co-pilot side. Even in his intoxicated state, he did manage to bring the aircraft back on course – somewhat - but he was coming in way too low.

Dan, who’d been struggling to open the cockpit door, finally got it open. “What the--” he started but was unable to finish. He saw the unconscious Bud slumped over in his chair, bleeding profusely from his mouth. He also saw the very intoxicated Max, reeking of alcohol, attempting to steer the plane. There was another sudden drop in altitude, it was all Dan could do to keep from vomiting.

Meanwhile, frightened shouts could be head behind the open cockpit door. He could tell that several of his people were on the verge of charging the cockpit.

Dan had no pilot skills of his own. He didn’t see any way out of this one. At that point, he had an atypical moment of clarity. I’ve been done in by my own ambition, he thought. And I won’t even get to be President.

Noah and Mark went into a dead sprint the moment they left their place. The guard at the northeastern gate had been able to alert Noah before the gunshot that had taken her life. He’d put in a quick call to Kara. He and Mark had swung into immediate action. They’d grabbed their weapons, which were kept fully loaded at all times. They’d briefed their nanny on the situation, and she’d assured them she’d tend for the kids. Outside, Noah took one look at the fog and shook his head.

“I can’t go up in the helicopter to see what’s going on,” he said breathlessly. “Not until this fog lifts.”

“Who’d attack us from the northeast?” wondered Mark. “We’ve never even considered that possibility.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Noah replied. “We’ll figure that out later. Let’s try to locate them and find out where they’re headed.” He advised Kara via com of their location and plans.

That’s when they heard the plane approaching from the southeast. Even with the thick fog, they could see its outline as it barreled onward in the direction of the runway – but pretty clearly not lined up, and way too low in its approach.

“No, no, too low!” cried out Noah. “And it’s gonna miss the runway!”

“The control tower!” shouted Mark. “It’s heading right for it!”

The errant aircraft didn’t hit the control tower directly. It first contacted the ground quite a distance short of the tower, skipped and flipped over, and then hit the ground again directly between the control tower and a warehouse. The resulting explosion rattled the entire community, and an enormous fireball went up, ending fifty-five Hun lives in an instant.

“Come on, Fern!” a harried Kara implored, speaking into her com. “Pick up the call! Please! You promised me you’d be available twenty-four hours a day!”

No reply. Kara set the com down in frustration, running her fingers through her hair. She was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened – a hostile attack force from the northeast – that was positioned somewhere inside the community, obviously with ill intent. Lars had already left, armed for battle, intending to meet up with Noah and Mark.

That’s when the explosion ripped through. Kara ran outside and saw the orange glow of the fireball through the fog. She desperately tried to com Fern again.

No luck.

The Hun forces were advancing steadily – so far unchecked - toward their target. They saw the approach of the plane. And then, right before their eyes, it struck the ground and went up in flames. They stopped their advance. They knew right then that no one had survived that crash. They’d just witnessed the deaths of fifty-five of their fellow Huns, including their leader, Dan Newman.

Aside from the human tragedy, there were now dangerously outnumbered in hostile territory.

Panic ensued. Loud cries of distress began to ring out. “We’re screwed now!” said one.

“Abort and flee!” screamed another.

“The northwest gate!” yelled out yet another. “The trucks are in that direction! They’ll take us out of this fucking place!”

A few of them had maps, and almost en masse, they started to run toward the northwest gate – with a few exceptions.

Zax, who was next to Terry, screamed at the departing Huns, “You pussies! Stay and fight!” He practically grabbed Terry, who was about to flee as well, and pulled him into a warehouse. Two others joined them.

Essence and Abby, heading over to Kara’s, were the first to spot the main group of Huns. Following the explosion, the pair had hidden themselves behind a corner of another warehouse and watched the proceedings. They heard the Huns shouting out their plans to withdraw through the northwest gate. Immediately, Essence commed Kara and told her of the Huns’ intentions.

“Okay,” said Kara. “Now we have something firm to work with.”

“Are you alone?” Essence wondered.

“No,” came Kara’s voice. “Jason, Taff, Hannah and a few others just arrived. We’ll get together as much of a ground force as we can muster. There’s another problem, though. The fireball from the explosion spread enough to involve the control tower and the nearby warehouse. Both are burning now. We have two guards trapped on the top of the tower.”

“Oh no,” said Abby. “That would be Sara and Winona.”

“Do you know them well, Abby?” wondered Kara through the com.

“They’re good friends of mine,” said Abby.

“Hold on just a sec,” said Kara. “I was going to tell you both to come over here, but I want to ask Noah something first. Stand by.” The com ended.

“What do you think she wants to ask Noah?” Abby said to Essence.

“I’m thinking there must be rescue plans underway, and she might want you to take part in it, since they are your friends,” volunteered Essence.

Soon, Kara commed back and confirmed Essence’s suspicion. “Essence, why don’t you come over here to my place. Abby ... you go and join Noah and Mark at the hangar where they keep the helicopter. Lars was with them, but I’ve asked him to come back here. The fog is lifting, and Noah can bring the copter up. You’ll help him out.”

Essence arrived at Kara’s place to find a swarm of people. “I still haven’t been able to get through to Fern,” Kara told her with a grim expression.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Essence said.

“I’ve got a plan for how to deal with the Huns on site,” said Kara. “I’m not sure how it’s going to go over. Wish me luck.”

With that, Kara called out and asked for everyone’s attention.

“Essence,” she said in front of everyone, “how many would you estimate were in that attack group? You saw them all together.”

“I’d say about fifty,” replied Essence, “give or take.”

Kara nodded. “I am going to tell the guards at the northwest gate,” she said, “that if the Huns approach the gate, we are going to let them pass and leave on their own with no resistance from us.”

There were a few bewildered looks, but Essence, as usual, saw the method to Kara’s apparent madness. “If they’re really leaving,” she said, “then why not minimize our own casualties? Let them go and be done with it. They didn’t accomplish what they set out to do. Kara’s right.”

“We’ll trail them though,” added Kara, “and make sure they all follow through – every last one of them. If they don’t, we’ll be ready to fight. And we’ll have to follow them even after they pass through the gate. Once’s Noah’s finished with his rescue mission, I’ll ask him to keep tabs on them via the air. And we’ll search through the entire enclosure afterwards, to make sure there are no stragglers.”

Abby arrived at the hangar and quickly found Noah and Mark. The helicopter was ready to lift off, its blades spinning.

“Roja, I need your help with a dangerous assignment,” said Noah. “We’ve got Sara and Winona trapped in the control tower. The fire’s confined to the lower part of the tower right now. I’m gonna hover up there above the top, drop down a rope ladder, and hopefully they’ll be able to scramble up. I want you there to communicate with them somehow. Sara, especially, is scared out of her mind.”

“I’m in,” said Abby. “Let’s do it.”

“Full disclosure here, before you say yes,” Noah went on. “This is a dangerous operation. Pulling a hover over a burning structure is risky as hell – it’s a lot harder than it looks in the movies.”

“I’m in,” Abby repeated. “Those are my friends. I want to help them.”

Before Abby had time to really think it through, she and Noah were in the air. Mark stayed down as a ground spotter. Noah drew the aircraft into a hover over the top of the tower and dropped down the ladder. It wasn’t long before Winona was scrambling into the helicopter.

“Sara’s terrified,” said Winona. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to convince her to climb that ladder.” Indeed, they looked down and saw her grabbing the ladder, taking one or two steps upward, then recoiling.

“I’ll talk to her,” shouted Abby above the chopping noise from the propellers. “I’m going down.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea, Roja,” Noah warned. “That tower could collapse at any time. Don’t put yourself at risk, too.”

“Your concern is touching, Father of the World,” said Abby mildly. “But save your lecture. I’m going down.” And with that, she was out the door, descending the ladder. All Noah could do was shake his head.

She hadn’t gone very far when she questioned her own bravado. The ladder was swinging back and forth in the breeze and she could feel the heat rising from the fire. Soon, the smoke was burning her eyes. She finally reached the bottom and stepped over to speak with the petrified Sara.

“It’s not that hard, Sara,” Abby told her, which was perhaps a little white lie. “One step at a time, one hand over the other. Winona did it. I just did it in the other direction.” She guided Sara over to the ladder and placed both of her hands on a rung.

“Now, remember ... one step at a time, and before you know it, you’ll be safe up there in the bird. Just ... one step at a time.” Abby’s voice was soothing; she placed both of Sara’s hands on a rung.

To Abby’s deep satisfaction, Sara began a tentative ascent. Twice, she looked down, possibly reconsidering. Both times, she seemed to conclude that the downward view was more terrifying than the upward view, and she continued climbing. Abby breathed a sigh of relief when Winona pulled her colleague to safety inside the helicopter.

Abby looked upward. Noah was motioning toward her, telling her to grasp the ladder firmly. He isn’t telling me what I think he’s telling me, is he? she wondered. She could feel the burning tower beginning to vibrate and sway ever so slightly, becoming unstable under her feet. This prompted her to step up onto the lowest rung of the ladder. She gripped the rope tightly with both hands, nodding upward toward Noah in the pilot seat. They had to do what they had to do; there was no choice.

She let out an audible scream as the helicopter lifted up and away, with Abby hanging on for dear life at the bottom of the hanging ladder. Noah took them a safe distance away from the burning tower. He then lowered the aircraft gradually, bringing Abby closer and closer to the ground, but it was agonizingly slow. Abby’s eyes remained closed, and her knuckles were white from gripping the rope. When her altitude was low enough for her to hop off safely, she did so and felt like kissing the ground.

Soon, the helicopter was next to her on terra firma as Noah ran through the shutdown procedure. Mark ran up to greet them, and Noah disembarked from the copter, accompanied by the rescued Sara and Winona. Sara came up and hugged Abby, showering her with thanks. Then, they all watched helplessly as the upper half of the tower – the community’s prized security feature – fell off and crashed to the earth.

It had been that close.

“I don’t ever,” said Noah, with a distinct lack of humor in his voice, “want to have to do something like that again.”