Cone was already daydreaming, envisioning the successful capture of the ROAS bitch. The inspector imagined a beaming president and future promotions. Thoughts half elsewhere, he replied, “Yes, please call off the attack, keep the house under observation, then we’ll see the general.”
On the bathroom stool, the lid down, Master Sergeant Upton sat holding his SIG Sauer M18 in his lap. Next to him, Staff Sergeant McMichael, sprawled in the bathtub, held Kinney’s suppressed Glock against her chest. Ten minutes had elapsed since they had entered the dark hallway bathroom to hide from the hovering Custer.
Without electricity, the tiny space was dark save a small ray of early sunlight filtering below the door. Upon entering and shutting the door, they no longer detected the Custer but weren’t taking any chances. At first, they waited for a missile or cannon attack, but after the minutes ticked away, they began to relax. They weren’t sure if the Custer had spotted them or if it was conducting a routine patrol. Still, having the aircraft so close was frightening, and at first, they were positive the machine was stalking them. Now, they were less certain. They also debated the likelihood of the Custer dropping off troops nearby or calling in for ground support. Both agreed that if the bird had spotted them, it wouldn’t waste time by asking for re-enforcements.
“I can’t sit here any longer not knowing. I’m going out to check,” said Upton.
“Be my guest,” replied Lisa, her eyes closed lying in the tub.
Upton got up from the stool, unlocked the bathroom door, and cracked it open. “Can’t hear anything,” he whispered.
“Good,” replied Lisa.
“I’ll peek outside. Be right back.” Before going through the door, Upton flexed his back and his ribs barked in protest. After waiting a moment for the pain to subside, he slipped out of the bathroom.
Ears tuned to detect the slightest noise, he worked his way through the hallway into the dining room. Pleased, the house remained quiet. No detectable noise inside or out. Best of all, no fucking rotors.
A large window fronted the dining room near the main entrance, and between closed drapes a crack let in a ray of sunlight. Without disturbing the material, he looked through the small opening. His view faced south, the direction they’d came, across a sliver of front yard to a street bordered on the far side by scrub-covered desert. Above it all a blue sky blazed. There was no sign of the enemy. Good.
A room at a time, he moved around the house, glancing through openings in the window covering. Twice he pulled back curtains just enough to get a better view outside. In every case, he spotted no other living thing, not even a cat or dog.
What he did learn was that the house sat on a corner lot. The back of the house faced north and was encircled by an adobe fence. Behind the fence sat a neighboring home, as did a house along the west side. None of the neighbors appeared to be home. Upton guessed the residents had evacuated either before, or just after, the shooting started. Satisfied, he headed back to the bathroom.
“No sign of the bad guys. Could be our lucky day,” said Upton, looking down at Lisa lying in the bathtub, her eyes still closed.
“Yeah, some lucky day,” she answered. “I failed my squad, didn’t do my job, and lived through hell. I’m done with playing soldier.”
Thinking about his own squad, Upton felt a tinge of guilt and regret. He yearned to get back and rejoin the Army. Maybe by doing so, he’d get a chance to make things right. “We can’t stay here long. I think we need to clean up, eat, rest, and head out once it turns dark. There’s a smaller town just southwest of here: Bunkerville. We should head for it.”
“I shot down one of those things…” blurted Lisa pointing towards the ceiling “…out of the air, just after the shelling. It was a lucky shot. I should’ve been killed for the effort.”
Not for the last time, Upton looked at Lisa with amazement. Somehow, using hand-to-hand combat, she had defeated the US soldier in the pipe. Now, after surviving a heavy precision tank and artillery bombardment, she was claiming to have shot down a Custer. Hell, during the attack, he hadn’t even got off a shot. Sure, he took out her assailants, but looking at her, no more than a buck-ten soaking wet, he was amazed at her fortitude. “Well, you’re alive,” he said, “and in my opinion, one a hell of soldier. But it’s not over. Now our duty is to escape.”
“Ha! I’m done screwing up. It’s time for me to go home and be with my kids.”
“In my opinion, you haven’t screwed up anything. Seems to me we’re both damn fortunate. But I understand the desire to go home.”
“You got kids, too?” she asked.
“No,” said Upton. He was always uncomfortable talking about his personal life. “Never found the right partner or felt the desire to settle. For now, the Army gives me what I need.”
Lisa sat up higher in the tub and, as if seeing him for the first time, she looked at Upton for a long few seconds. At last she said, “Well, good luck with that. If by some miracle we get out of here alive, I’m done. Right now, I’m hungry, thirsty, and a mess.” Then she laid her head back and reclosed her eyes.
“Agreed,” said Upton.
Looking around, in the far corner where Lisa dropped it, he spotted the pack given to them earlier by the medics. Interested, he crossed the room and rummaged inside. He fished out two pre-packaged meals and was about to toss them to Lisa when he noticed a large zippered side pouch. Intrigued, he grabbed the metal zipper and slid it open. Recognition dawned, and he smiled.
Reaching in, he pulled out a satellite phone, a battery, and a rotating docking stand. With care, he laid the objects side by side on the linoleum. “Lisa, look at this.”
“Give me a clue,” she said, eyes still closed.
Upton examined the electronics and recalled his training. This wasn’t just a typical SAT video phone. No, something more sophisticated. It appeared to be laser equipped. He also knew the latest models leveraged quantum cryptography mastered by the ROAS. Designed to avoid interception, these phones weren’t standard issue. Instead, senior officers, special ops, and emergency personnel received the phones to communicate when typical secure infrastructure was unavailable. Upton guessed the medics carried one for large-scale civil emergencies. The phone was a gift from heaven. “Lisa, it’s a secure satellite phone. Impossible to detect or crack.”
Lisa sat up in the tub, “We can call home and let our families know we’re okay.”
“Not directly. This phone is for dedicated, secure, point-to-point connections. My guess is a direct link to Central Command. Once we contact them, I’m sure they’ll get us out of here. After making contact, I’m sure they’ll notify your family.”
“That’ll work,” said Lisa in a hopeful voice.
“One problem, though,” said Upton. “These work on line of sight—direct laser. We need to point it towards the open sky, unobstructed, and move it around until it detects and locks onto a quantum satellite. Once locked, the call establishes. We should point the thing towards the southwest, but we need to be outside with an open view. It’d be safer to wait until tonight when it gets dark, or we can try to figure out a way to stay hidden and do it now.”
“I don’t want to wait,” she said.
Upton examined Lisa. She still wore the field jacket the medics had given her, along with the loose-fitting boots. Worse, her face was a filthy, blood-streaked mess, and he knew her pants were stiff with dried blood. She also smelled and was missing a front tooth. He wasn’t much better. Plus, his ribs needed tending. Both were operating on little sleep and pain pills. Outside, the enemy may or may not be hunting them. Still, using the SAT phone at that moment made the most sense. Afterward, they could focus on getting clean, bandaged, and refreshed. There was only one problem: To avoid capture and stay alive, he needed to figure a way to set up the connection while staying hidden.