He split his men into two groups once again, one on each side of the tracks, and they set off climbing higher up the slope. The snow was thicker here and crusty from the cold shadow of the mountain. All his men wore heavy combat boots, yet even then several slipped and fell during the climb. After several minutes, Damien began to detect the sweet smell of waffles or pancakes wafting in the still air. As they climbed higher, the smell grew stronger. A dog began to bark, with the cadenced sound echoing through the trees. There was a house up ahead, and they were getting close.
“A phone? Of course, sweetie,” Doris Nash chuckled. “But watch the minutes. We only have so many before I have to go all the way into Hemet to get a refill card.”
“Thank you so much. When I find my purse I’ll be sure to give you enough for a whole other card with three hundred minutes.” Tiffany introduced Xander to the old couple. Jack Nash sent him a wink when Tiffany wasn’t looking, an acknowledgement of Xander’s excellent taste in women.
The Nash home was much larger than Tiffany’s log cabin. It was on a separate road leading up the mountain from Idyllwild, with three bedrooms, two baths and a two-car garage. The couple had built it over thirty years before as a vacation home. Now in their early seventies, it was their permanent residence.
Jack Nash was seated before the T.V., and when Tiffany came near he quickly picked up the remote and switched the channel from CNN to Fox and Friends. The reporter chuckled. “That’s okay, Jack. At least now I know who their one viewer is.”
Embarrassed, the wiry, nearly-bald man rushed to change the subject. “Isn’t this something, I mean what happened in Las Vegas?” Xander came to stand next to the old man’s chair. The regular programming had been preempted for more conventional coverage of the attack. The on-screen talent was detailing how the strike had occurred, and how there had already been three attacks along the Eastern Seaboard that morning. The media was on a terrorist attack watch, just waiting for the next event to happen. A military expert was being interviewed, discussing the potential impact of the attacks and the secrets that had been posted to the Internet.
“I’m surprised you’re not in the middle of all this,” Jack said to Tiffany. She exchanged a quick glance with Xander before responding.
“Yeah, it is my kind of story. That’s why I need the phone. I lost mine and need to call the network.”
Doris handed her the cellphone.
“Xander needs to call his office, too, if that’s all right?”
“Just watch the minutes.”
Tiffany stepped outside on the front porch to make the call. Doris joined her briefly, as she yelled at her dog Ginger to stop barking. The old black lab obliged, making it easier for Tiffany to hear.
Xander stayed watching the news broadcast until Tiffany returned and handed him the phone. “They’re relieved, as would be expected. They’re sending a car up from Riverside to pick me up.”
Xander nodded. “Good. I’ll be right back.”
He stepped out the front door and into the subzero air outside. It was refreshing, and he sat in a padded chair that had been protected from the evening snowfall by the overhang above the porch. Ginger came up next to him, and after dialing the emergency response number for the RDC, he began to scratch the dog behind her ears.
The phone was answered immediately. “Code, please,” the mechanical voice asked.
“Six-Four-One-Nine-Red,” he answered.
Within seconds, a live person came on the line. “Xander Moore? Confirm secondary protocol.”
“Oscar, bravo… sunrise.”
“What’s your location?”
“I’m in Idyllwild, California. I’m secure at this time. I’m with a news reporter named Tiffany Collins, staying at her cabin. Can you fill me in? What was the damage?”
“Extensive to the facility, with over eight hundred dead. The facility has been reacquired; however all systems are down or have been compromised.”
“And the operators?”
There was a pause on the line before the speaker continued. “Nearly one-hundred percent. The assault drones probed throughout the facility for two hours, killing everyone they could find. Coordinated attacks on the homes of the pilots happened simultaneously with that on the facility. A few stragglers who were off the grid at the time survived and have been brought in. There was a report of a secondary assault to the east of the facility, believed to be aimed at you. Can you confirm?”
“I believe so. Look into the whereabouts of a former RDC pilot named Jonas Lemon. I believe he’s the one who compromised the Center, providing the information necessary for the terrorists to take us out. Any claim of credit yet?”
“There’ve been over a dozen who have, but nothing credible. The traffic on this one from the major players is really quiet, which is unusual for something this big.”
“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that,” Xander said. “There’s a dog here that just started barking.”
“I hear that. I said no one credible has claimed credit.” There was a delay on the line before the person on the other end spoke again. “Is the dog yours?”
“No, we’re at a neighbor’s house using their phone. We left ours at the Center.”
“Is the dog’s barking unusual?”
Xander felt the line of questioning was strange, until he answered the question. “I don’t know. She did bark when we came up to the house—”
“Are you armed?”
“No.”
“Then vacate the location immediately. Do not return the way you came, and if possible acquire a firearm. Take the phone with you and make contact again once you’re in the clear. I’m sending backup, but it will not arrive in time.”
Xander watched as Ginger stood in the back yard and continued to bark, staring into the woods in the direction of Tiffany’s cabin. He snapped the small phone shut and put it in the pocket of his borrowed jacket before going back inside.
“I’m sorry to say this, but I believe we’re all in danger.” He saw Tiffany turn pale, while the Nash’s just looked at him with quizzical frowns.
“I’m one of the people who worked at the facility in Las Vegas that was attacked yesterday,” he said by way of explanation. “And I believe there are people coming up the hill right now who want to kill me.”
Tiffany ran to the back window and pulled back the curtains. All she could see was Ginger frantically barking at the edge of the dark forest beyond the small yard.
Doris and Jack noticed the worried look on Tiffany’s face and knew instinctively that Xander was telling the truth.
“Are you one of the good guys or the bad guys?” Jack asked Xander.
Tiffany turned from the window. “He’s one of the good guys, Jack, and they’re out to kill me, too, I’m sure.”
“Well, whoever they are, they won’t leave us alone, either — at least that’s what happens in the movies.” Jack went into a back room and returned momentarily with two weapons, one a double-barrel shotgun, the other a bolt-action hunting rifle. “Grab the shells, Doris.”
His wife obediently opened a drawer in the dining room hutch and pulled out two boxes of shotgun shells and another of thirty caliber bullets. From another drawer she produced a Glock-21 .45 caliber semi-automatic handgun.
She noticed the startled looks on the faces of her two guests. “One can never be too careful living up here in the mountains.”
Jack Nash handed the hunting rifle to Xander. He took the heavy weapon and looked at Tiffany. The woman saw the worry on his face. “You don’t know how to use it, do you?” she said incredulously.