The necessity of this camp was also now in question, as were the prisoners. These were just loose ends that needed to be cleaned up. He considered his options. He could just do it quietly and with little trouble, but it seemed a waste. Why not force the Prophus’ hand? Make them grind their forces toward certain death through no-man’s-land toward entrenched Genjix forces. It seemed to Enzo a fitting end to this conflict. He still owed Stephen a debt, after all.
Enzo turned to Palos leaning against the door. “Build a platform, gather all the prisoners, and then shoot them; publicly for all the Prophus to see.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
HIDEOUT
His death broke Dania, who immediately retired from active duty. She lived out the rest of her life in peace, raising young Sonya. During those years, I was kept out of the war. However, I did not mind. Dania had experienced great loss and deserved her peace. She developed cancer and died with Sonya by her side, and I enjoyed a rare peaceful transition.
I began to train Sonya. She benefitted from having known of us since she was a child. Even at a young age, Sonya proved gifted in all ways that a Prophus finds valuable. Beautiful, physically talented, intelligent, and forceful, she was extraordinary and showed potential for greatness.
Baji
Jill leaned into the microphone hidden within the recess of the stone wall and paused. Then she looked back at the sixty survivors, the remnants of the Prophus political operation in the United States. Out of nine senators, twenty-eight representatives, one cabinet member, twenty-four federal judges, and nearly three hundred aides and officials, only these scared and exhausted souls had made it out of the city alive.
The Genjix had brazenly swept into the city with overwhelming numbers. Some of the pitched firefights had numbered fifty combatants, turning the streets of the capital into a veritable war zone. Command estimated that two thousand Genjix had encircled the beltway and squeezed in. Paula’s team of two hundred had stood no chance of mounting a defense. The only thing they could do was delay the enemy long enough for survivors to escape. It was to Paula’s credit that even this many had made it.
Marco was currently out with the scouts herding stragglers to this rendezvous point. Time was of the essence. There were still pockets of Prophus hiding, having eluded the Penetra vans. The longer the remaining operatives stayed out there, the greater their risk of discovery.
Initial reports of casualties were catastrophic. Both Senators Brant and Lim were dead. Eleven Representatives were confirmed dead alongside their Quasing. Judges Rhiew and Hellen were captured and presumed dead. Of those in Congress, only Senators Thompson and Wilks, and Representatives James and Howard had made it here. The rest of their people were unaccounted for.
Jill put her hand on Paula’s arm. “You saved a lot of people.” The woman looked like she was about to fall over.
“Just open the bloody rock,” Paula muttered.
Jill coughed and spoke in a hushed voice. “Baby bear versus the big city.” The panel dinged like a bell signaling tea time, and a green light lit up. There was a hiss from the side while the door swung open. Jill turned and waved everyone through.
“Baby bear, huh?” A small smile escaped Paula’s face as she walked by.
“Long story,” Jill shrugged. “He’s quirky like that.”
The survivors dragged themselves into their new temporary home and made themselves comfortable. Already, Paula’s team was setting up a command post in the kitchen while the non-military personnel erected an infirmary and living quarters in Roen’s bedroom and living room. Within a few minutes, Roen’s hole in the mountain transformed into the new base of operations.
Too exhausted to sleep, she decided to explore her husband’s home. The first time she was here, she had been too drunk and tired to get a clear feel for the place. Now that she was sober, she had to admit Roen’s hideout was impressive. Walking through one of the side corridors, she discovered that this old missile base went a lot deeper underground than she realized.
She found Roen’s treasured ammo dump in the second silo, which was circular in shape, similar to the living room. However, in place of couches and a coffee table, this one was stocked to the brim with crates of what she presumed were weapons and ammunition. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had stockpiled enough for a nuclear winter. There were enough arms here to equip Ecuador. She cracked open a few crates. Tucked in beds of straw were caches of weapons from grenades to Browning M2 heavy machine guns to crossbows. In one crate, there were several hand-propelled rocket launchers and in another, a flamethrower. She even found a jousting lance on the floor.
“At least he’ll be ready if Normandy invades. I couldn’t shoot all this stuff in two lifetimes.”
Some of it looks older than the Cold War.
“Ammo is ammo.”
Old ammunition is dangerous. I would rather use bows and arrows. At least they will not explode in your face.
Jill was about to leave the room when something off to the side caught her eye. At first, it looked like a tall mini fridge. She frowned and upon closer inspection, whistled in disbelief.
“Is that what I think it is?”
A miniaturized Penetra scanner without a power source. One of the newer models the Genjix have been testing. I do not know how Roen acquired this. Command has been trying to get their hands on one of these for months now. Soon, the Genjix will have miniaturized it into a hand held. Then we will be in real trouble.
“He can be resourceful when he puts his mind to it,” she murmured, wiping the dust off the scanner and checking the interface. It was the first time she’d seen one of these scanners. The Genjix guarded them very closely.
Leave it. We have more pressing things to worry about.
Jill exited the ammo room and continued down the corridor to the next silo. This one was Roen’s doom-prepping storage. There must have been more than five thousand canned goods in here. She counted several hundred gallons of water, mounds of assorted dried fruit, and six lifetimes of ramen. In the corner were a dozen cases of scotch. To the right of that, she stumbled onto a pile of toilet paper twice as tall as she was.
Booze and toilet paper. At least he has his priorities straight.
“He’s nothing if not consistent. How much do you want to bet I find a couple crates of chocolate bars?”
It would be a bad bet to take.
The last silo was Roen’s office. A metal desk sat in the center, enclosed by a ring of shelves filled with computers. On the desk were a state-of-the-art computer and several pictures of Cameron. Jill picked up a picture of Cameron’s first birthday. She wiped off the dust, her fingers brushing his chubby face and that look of joyful bewilderment at the lone candle on a cake. Moments after that picture was taken, Cameron had grabbed the candle and burned his fingers. She chuckled. He was so much like his father, even at this young age.
Jill sat down at the desk and tried to log into his computer. First she tried the baby bear password and then several others that they shared, combining hers and Cameron’s information. She tried a few more passwords, such as her favorite phrase, Cameron’s first toy, and his old cat Meow Meow. When none worked, she leaned back and pondered. Roen wasn’t exactly a creative genius with passwords. He was sentimental and a creature of habit. He tended to rotate the same three over and over again with slight variations.