It was a reasonably peaceful scene at the moment, or would have been, were it not for the strange flower-like structure that had blossomed at the southern end of the camp. Susan thought it was some sort of Chimeran spaceship at first. But, after studying the object for a while, she concluded that it was a prefab fortress. The sort of thing the aliens could drop wherever a small base was required.
The black metal dome sat about six feet off the ground. It featured a com mast and three petal-shaped ramps. She assumed there was a fourth on the south side of the structure. A hodgepodge of human vehicles were parked around the dome, which suggested that the stinks had learned to use them.
Susan was too far away to make out very many details. But she could seen tiny figures coming and going and knew that they were Hybrids. It was difficult to keep count, since it was hard to know how many Chimera were inside the structure at any given moment, but Susan estimated that fifteen to twenty of the aliens were in residence. And the longer she watched, the angrier she became. She was sick and tired of running and hiding from the creatures who had murdered her family.
Those emotions gave birth to an idea that was both audacious and more than a little absurd. What if Susan could wipe out all of the stinks associated with the base? It wouldn’t mean a damned thing where the big picture was concerned. The Chimera would still be in control of the United States. But it would be a victory of sorts. That got her to thinking, and a plan started to come together.
The Chimera had taken Concordia. And now it was time for the bastards to pay.
Having left the tower a little after noon and stashing her gear in a culvert, Susan was waiting at the west side of the Protection Camp when darkness fell. Now, being right next to one of the outlying buildings, it was easy to see why critics including Freedom First had been so opposed to what they called “citizen concentration camps.” Meaning places where a substantial portion of the population could be forced to live according to rules laid down by an increasingly dictatorial government.
But Susan knew it was important to put such concerns aside as she entered the maze of buildings with the Fareye slung across her back and the Reaper in her hands. She didn’t want to use the weapon, though. Not yet anyway. Because in order to execute her plan, she needed a stink magnet and a reliable source of light. Something other than the Chimeran base, which was lit up like a Christmas tree.
As Susan darted from building to building, she had to watch out for the debris that lay everywhere—and for either a Chimera or one of their Drones. Although judging from the way the firebase was illuminated, the aliens hadn’t been attacked in a long time.
After counting the streets from the tower, Susan knew when she arrived at what she thought of as 15th Avenue. She circled a burned-out car and crossed the street. Having entered the long, narrow building on the other side, she used blips of light from a hand torch to navigate down a dusty hallway. It was lined by tiny apartments, glorified bedrooms really, all equipped with bunk beds and basic furnishings.
Susan had a pack of cigarettes. Not to smoke but to trade, one coffin nail at a time, to those who did. But in this situation she was about to turn a tube of tobacco and a pack of matches into a trigger. She placed a cigarette crosswise inside the packet of matches, being careful to keep the tip well away from the match heads.
According to Susan’s Freedom First instructors, the average burn time for a Camel was four to five minutes. Plenty of time in which to reach her next destination. But first she gathered a pile of flammable materials together, lit the cigarette, and placed the triggering device next to a big wad of dry newspaper.
With that accomplished, she hurried out into the night and made for the nearest watchtower. The two-story structures were located at regular intervals throughout the camp. Their purpose being to protect the inhabitants and control them.
Susan let the Reaper hang crosswise over her chest so both her hands and feet were free to climb the ladder. A series of quick steps carried her up through a circular opening to the point where she could step off it onto a wooden deck. It was surrounded by four waist-high walls and topped with a conical roof. The structure wouldn’t protect her from .22-caliber bullets, much less blasts from an Auger. But hopefully the element of surprise, and the cover of darkness, would offer sufficient protection.
Kneeling in front of a south-facing window with the Reaper within easy reach, Susan brought the Fareye around and slipped the sling up over her head. By that time she could see a red-orange glow through the windows of the building in which the fire had been set. And it wasn’t long before flames escaped through open doorways and began to climb the outside walls.
Would the Chimera ignore the blaze? Or would they attempt to put it out? There was no way to know. But one thing was for sure: If the neighboring structures caught fire, and the conflagration began to spread, the fire would threaten their base. And that was a good thing.
So she watched with interest as a Chimeran transport roared up the street and came to a halt. Half a dozen Hybrids got out. But, rather than fight the fire, they began to scan the area with Augers in an effort to locate the person or persons responsible for the blaze. The whole thing was absurdly easy at first, thanks to the fact that the Hybrids were silhouetted against the flames. All Susan had to do was move the Fareye from target to target and pick them off one at a time. Five of them went down before the survivors realized what was happening and sought cover.
Rather than try to figure out where the Hybrids were hiding, Susan turned her attention to the heretofore brightly lit dome. It suddenly went dark as an engine started and reinforcements piled into a second transport.
Susan smiled grimly as the headlights came on and she inserted a fresh magazine into the rifle’s well. It appeared that the hive-mind, or whatever it was that controlled the Hybrids, hadn’t run into that situation before. By using the headlights as reference points, she was able to put three bullets into the area where the windshield should have been. The transport swerved left, then right, and smashed into a building. It didn’t blow up, which was unfortunate, but Susan was happy nevertheless as she passed the sling over her head and felt the Fareye thump her back.
Having grabbed the Reaper, Susan was in the process of turning towards the opening at the center of the room when a Patrol Drone popped up through the aperture and a bright light speared her eyes. The robot exploded as a burst from the Reaper struck it. But other machines were visible outside the windows by then, and she felt a searing pain as a couple of projectiles grazed her ribs.
At that point the situation became desperate as Susan held the trigger down while turning a full circle. Drones exploded one after another, bits of shrapnel stung her face, and the Reaper clicked empty.
Susan ejected the empty magazine and replaced it with another as she made for the ladder. She clamped the side rails between her boots and slid to the ground. Her boots thumped as they hit the ground. Auger bolts flashed around her and lesser projectiles kicked up geysers of dirt. It was time to run.
As Susan zigzagged through the firelit maze of buildings, the whole notion of taking on a couple dozen Hybrids by herself seemed stupid now. She would be lucky to survive. A breeze came up as a Bullseye tag blipped past her head. Sparks flew high into the air, where they circled for a moment, before being carried to other buildings. In no time at all, cedar-shingled roofs caught fire and the blaze began to spread.
The surviving Hybrids stopped firing within a matter of seconds, and Susan could imagine them running towards the suddenly vulnerable dome. At that point it would have been smart to keep going, retrieve her pack, and clear the area as quickly as possible. But one of her father’s favorite sayings was “Never leave a job half finished.”