Chester showed his frustration. “What’s the point? You know Preston and Thorpe. They won’t be happy about this. I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ve been on forays with them, lots of ’em. Some real important ones. The next shipment is important, to say the least. We don’t want to piss them off, Scott.”
Scott grimaced, showing some offence at Chester’s outburst. He looked around and then leaned into him, speaking quietly, “Look, Thorpe said Gail should have the last word on security, and these are her rules. It’ll just be another minute, so you’re just going to have to wait. There it comes now.”
A spider bot was making its way out of the yard toward them.
“All right. Got it. Just doing your job,” Chester said, his heart starting to race. They were going to have to do this the hard way. Scott moved away to talk to another guard. Chester looked over at Garrett. His eyes were wide with anxiety, with expectation. He knew what was about to happen. He knew they had no choice.
Chester pressed down hard on the accelerator. The truck rapidly picked up speed and smashed through the big metal gate. People starting yelling, “Stop!” and “Lookout!” behind them.
Chester veered around a bike platform and a small utility shed to head toward the middle of the yard, close to the main Barnyard building. There was no way for the railroad enforcers to know if this was some sort of attack, or just a rogue truck out of control. When they were close enough to the main Barnyard building he reached into his pocket and pressed the orange button.
This time there was a noise. It was like a lantern starving for air. The box even shook on the floor behind them.
The truck engine died. Two lamps of liberty were extinguished nearby. Spider bots stopped dead in their tracks. A conveyor belt shut down. The engine of another truck on the far side of the yard died.
It appeared to have worked.
Chester threw open the top of the box. He handed one belt of explosives to Garrett and took another for himself, draping it over his shoulders. Garrett got out and sprinted around the truck so he could join him on his side.
People were shouting, and there was a great deal of confusion. They wouldn’t know what an EMP pulse was, and they wouldn’t know it came from the truck. No one had figured out what was really going on. Not yet, but soon they would.
But the EMP pulse hadn’t been entirely successful.
As Chester was stepping out of the truck he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The big gun on top of the red Barnyard building pivoted, and its barrels began shifting down. It must have been protected from the pulse. And the machine that controlled it was smarter than the people around him. It knew what an EMP pulse was. It knew the danger, exactly where it came from, and it could react quickly. The pivoting stopped, and the barrels held in place.
The barrels were pointing directly toward him.
“Run!” Chester yelled, but it was too late. Chester was thrown thirty feet forward as the truck exploded behind him. Blazing shrapnel tore through his flesh and a piercing noise rang in his ears, drowning out any other sound.
He was on the ground. He tried to stagger forward but his legs wouldn’t work. He could only inch ahead by crawling with his arms. He felt nauseous, shocked, thirsty. He dared not look back. He didn’t want to know what was left of him.
Ahead of him he could see a man running, a man that he recognized, a man that he’d seen only a moment ago. What was his name? People were pointing at him. People leveled weapons at him. But he was fast. That was why he was with him, he remembered. He was fast.
The running man made it to the wall, just under a guard tower. That was where he was supposed to go, right? But just as he made it, the running man was dropped by a hail of bullets.
There was something else he was missing. Something else he wasn’t supposed to forget.
There was a loud explosion coming from the wall where the man was shot down.
Ah yes, the button. He reached into his pocket, found the controller, and pressed the red button. But nothing happened.
Why didn’t it work? The world was spinning. He felt faint.
But then he remembered. Of course… the EMP. Owen had explained this.
Chester reached up to his shoulder, unhitched the safety clip and pulled the detonation cord.
THE SOUTH TOWER
Flora heard a loud blast coming from the center of Seeville. Another explosion followed. It was the sign they were waiting for.
They were stationed on a street corner that had a good view of one of the guard towers on the south side of the city. Twenty Yorktown men were tightly packed behind Cecile, Mehta, and Flora. Three other squads of Yorktown men had taken up covert positions just to the south of the towers.
“Well?” Cecile said to Mehta.
“Just wait,” Mehta said, looking at the printed instructions again. “I’ve never used a rocket launcher before.”
A voice came through on Cecile’s communicator. “Try to unlatch the safety, just over the trigger.” It was the Sentinel again. It liked to give them hints along the way.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mehta said, sounding annoyed. He did as he was told.
He adjusted the launcher on his shoulder. “All clear?” he asked.
“Clear,” Cecile said, poking her head around the corner.
Mehta moved into the open and knelt down. The rocket erupted out of the launcher. It veered left and then right, barely missing the tower. It exploded somewhere in the distance. “Damn it,” Mehta said, returning to cover.
The other Yorktown men nearby started firing at the tower, but with little effect. The tower enforcers began firing back at their positions.
One of the Yorktown squads advanced on their left flank, drawing more fire from the tower gunman. Mehta used the distraction to step out into the open again. This time the rocket veered to the left, corrected right, and then smartly hit just underneath the top of the tower. The tower maintained its structural integrity but burst into flames, sending smoke up into the crow’s nest.
The men in the nest started to panic as the fire licked at them. One of them climbed out, only to be easily picked off by a Yorktown sniper.
Mehta reloaded again. This time when he stepped out he fired at one of the enforcer bunkers adjoining the tower. He missed, but it was enough to make the men inside run out into the open, trying to find a safer haven. Several were picked off by Yorktown snipers, while some others managed to flee, running north into the city.
The other squads of Yorktown men were moving up. It was time to advance.
“Are we supposed to take all of this?” one of the Yorktown men asked, gesturing at the twenty large duffel bags full of weapons and equipment. Included were a number of weapons from the sanctuary’s stores, and almost any sort of safety equipment you could imagine—ear plugs, gas masks, protective suits and visors. Owen had insisted on them taking all of this, knowing Gail could have weapons that they couldn’t even conceive of.
But carrying all this equipment was sure to slow them down.
“Owen is a bit of a worrywart. Let’s stash most of it here,” Cecile said. “Bring the weapons and whatever you can jog with, but no more.”
They did as Cecile suggested, and then pressed northward past the flaming tower, into the heart of the city.
NOVATION IS DAMNATION
Duncan pumped his fist and yelled, “Novation is damnation!” The crowd behind him repeated, “Novation is damnation!”
They were marching onto the mall and fanning out to maximize the effect. Large banners were draped over the crowd. One said Novation is damnation! Another was more elegantly written, with a number of lines from the Credo, but featured in bold, Freedom from Obsession. Another banner simply said The End is Near! People on the mall tried to scurry around them. Some backtracked to side streets so they could avoid the demonstration altogether.