«Out of hell,» said Billy.
Shari squeezed her son to her. «Are you gonna be okay, baby?»
«I . . . I . . .»
«It's okay, baby, we're safe.»
«No, we're not, Mom. Don't lie.»
«Son,» said the medic firmly, «the engineers are building the best damn shelter they can to protect you, and the rest of us are going to try to make sure there's nothing to draw the Posleen in. We're gonna do our level best to save you, I promise you that.»
«Is it gonna work?» asked Shari, catching her breath in a pause between crying spells.
«I won't promise anything,» said the paramedic honestly. «But it's a better chance than without it.»
«Excuse me,» said a woman, looming out of the darkness, «somebody said you were up at Spotsylvania Mall.» The woman's voice caught for a moment. «Did you happen to see a man driving,» she paused, «driving a hunter green Suburban . . .»
«My husband was a tall man . . .»
«Did you see . . .»
The women rose around her, closing in with desperate questions, but the paramedic rose over her like an enraged lioness. «Look, people, I know you're wondering about your . . . your families, your husbands, but this lady's been through enough already . . .»
«No,» said Shari, with a quavering voice, «I have to say it, I have to. . . . There was nobody behind me, nobody at all. I'm sorry . . .» She started crying again, quietly. «There wasn't anything I could do. I, I, just had to walk away, you see? I had to save my babies, I had to walk and keep walking . . . There was this little girl . . . she wouldn't come with me and I was carrying my babies . . . I couldn't, I couldn't . . .»
«Shhh,» the medic cried into her hair, «it's all right, it is. There's nothing to do . . .»
«We had to walk,» laughed Billy. «We just walked and walked and never ever looked back. You can't look back, you just have to walk and walk . . .» He began to scream.
The paramedic leaned over and pressed an injector against his neck. In a moment he was out cold.
«What was that?» Shari snarled, struggling to her feet.
«Shh, just Hiberzine. He'll sleep quiet. Unfortunately, when he wakes up to him it'll be just a moment from now. So before anyone gives him the antidote, make sure they know he's not tracking very well. We've put quite a few out.» The lost wives had faded back into the darkness and another paramedic brought over blankets and soup.
«I put you in the drawing,» he said. «The engineers are about to start loading.»
«I wonder how they're doing at the interstate?» said the female paramedic.
* * *
The chassis of a gas truck, caught on the overpass as the Posleen pounded into view, was silhouetted by the fires of thousands of gallons of kerosene, diesel and gasoline. A fire truck kept up a steady stream of mixed flammables as its counterpart stood at a comfortable distance across Plank Road awaiting its turn to fire. The giant flamethrower had demonstrated truly awesome range from time to time as the Posleen tried to bypass the incendiary barrier. The gushing fuel spouted out at tremendous force and ignited only as it touched the other burning fuel. Occasionally openings would occur. When the Posleen tried to charge through, the fire fighters would get them good and soaked then drift a line of fuel to the nearest patch of flame. The explosion of fire would immolate the group and the massacre would continue. Behind the two fire trucks was a line of fuel trucks, well dispersed, and a spare pair of pumper cars having their seals replaced.
«Damn if this isn't working, Chief,» said Colonel Robertson with an amazed smile. The stupid aliens were hell-bent on forcing the passage and getting turned into Posleen Toasties in the process.
«Yes, sir, Colonel. Those holes your boys put in help too.» She gestured to the large craters blown into the median, requiring the Posleen to go out of their way by nearly a kilometer on either side. Explosions and shots in both directions showed where skirmishing was occurring on the flanks. The Posleen had not yet pressed in either direction nor did they appear to be interested in pursuing it. When they did the defense would have to fall back.
«It's amazing. They don't seem to have consolidated, yet,» the colonel informed her. «They're just coming in piecemeal and we're blowing them away all over the place. We blew the Jeff Davis bridge, but they're pressing up from the south on the Jeff Davis and Tidewater Trail. We're going to be untenable here before the juice runs out.»
«Okay, well, we'll pull back when you call it,» said the fire chief, wiping at a bit of soot on her cheek. The smell of burning Posleen was like nothing else on earth. The closest she could come was burning rubber and that was about as close as alligator to chicken. The smoke was almost enough to call for breath-packs and who knew what toxins it might contain.
«It won't be soon,» he commented with a grim smile as another group tried to charge the fire. The fire fighters had almost made a game of it, opening pockets to allow the enemy to charge forward then cutting off their retreat before filling the hole and incinerating them. Even the God Kings seemed unable to find the source of the fuel as the flames climbed high into the night.
«You probably ought to turn this one over to your second,» Colonel Robertson noted. «I'd like you to take a safety look at the fuel-air explosive. It would be a bitch if it prematurely detonated, but we have to fill the building in advance.»
«You got it, Colonel. Where are you going to be?»
«Oh, I have an appointment at the armory. Something about preparing a reception.»
The old fire fighter smiled. «Well, lay in the punch and I suppose they will come.»
«Right down William Street.»
«Yup. Welcome to Historic Fredericksburg.»
* * *
«I think they'll spread out a little from William Street,» said Little Tommy, turning away up Princess Anne Street. «Probably as far as Fauquier or Hawk before they blow the Big One.»
They walked along Princess Anne in the dusk, crunching the shattered glass from display windows underfoot as the rattle of gunfire sounded in the distance. The quaint shops had taken a big hit from the sonic booms of the landing.
«I was wondering . . .» he said diffidently. «Do you want to take a chance on the bunker? Now that they're going to do that?»
«I'm over sixteen,» Wendy pointed out, «and not a mother.» The last was somewhat sharp, almost bitter.
«Ahem. Well, there might be more room; they might take, you know, others. Shit, I wish I had a hole to hide in.»
«You wouldn't hide if they gave you the chance, would you?»
Tommy thought about it. «No; no, I probably wouldn't. Not until I . . . did some good. And by then it would be too late.»
«What is it with all of this?» she asked, gesturing at the body armor and bags. «I mean, I know kids that are in Junior Militia who are less well prepared.»
«Yeah, well, my dad's one real regret in life is that he took a scholarship to Clemson to play football instead of West Point to play army. Then he went pro and that ended any chance of going in the military. Instead, he became an armchair soldier. You know, CNN junky, shooting pistols instead of playing golf, playing paintball all weekend. The whole Posleen thing was the greatest thing that ever happened to him; he was finally going to get to be a soldier. He even tried to enlist, but he was outside the range since he wasn't prior service. And then there's the knees . . .
«Anyway, he decided early on, way before we Knew, that I was going to be the next Hannibal . . .»
«Who?» asked Wendy, coughing as a particularly strong swirl of smoke from the interstate wafted down the street.