“Radio silence?”
“Affirmative sir, we can no longer communicate with the base…”
Redmond’s words fade into a worried silence, while the soldier points to the line of military vehicles on the ground, in the headlights of the helicopter.
Ironside turns his gaze to watch the scene below them, and a warning bell lights up in his chest, causing a rush of adrenaline.
“I think there is something wrong, sir. The vehicle that leads the line has slowed down, I can’t understand why. It’s moving very slowly and swerves over again.”
“Who’s in that vehicle?”
“Brody…”, says Redmond in the intercom, partly responding to the question for Ironside, “…what the hell are you doing?”
No reply.
“White, Brody, can you hear me?”
The lead vehicle swerves sharply, raising a cloud of sand, then it keeps going on, zigzagging between low dunes.
“We can’t communicate with them, sir.”
Shit…
“Who’s driving the trucks behind them?”
“The first is led by Terry McKinnock, the following truck is driven by Vince Seemore. Keith Brimley drives the last one, that with the mechanical shovel and other tools.
“Can you get in touch with the three of them, excluding the leading truck?”
After a few moments the voice of Ironside sounds in the internal communication system. “John Ironside here, can you hear me?”
The affirmative answers arrive almost in unison.
“McKinnock here, sir, I get you loud and clear. What’s wrong with those two over there? Are they having a party while driving?”
“McKinnock, Seemore, slow down and cover its sides, I want you to place your trucks on the two sides of the lead truck. Tell me if you see something inside. Brimley, stay a few meters back, we try to close it on three sides.”
From the helicopter cockpit, Redmond and Ironside see the maneuver of the two vehicles, which head to the sides of the truck that drives the column. Something isn’t right: now it seems accelerating, in order to outdistance its pursuers by a few meters.
“Brody is always joking, that asshole is accelerating”, the deep voice of Seemore.
Shit…
“Follow it, guys, try to get its sides. Stay sharp!”
The engines of the two trucks roar and speed, getting quickly next to the suspect vehicle. The third truck, much heavier due to the load of equipment, remains behind.
The voices of the drivers and other soldiers sitting next to them sound in the helicopter’s intercom.
“I can’t see anything inside, it’s too dark.”
“I’m gonna try to get close! Wilford, see if you can lean. Approach it more. Use a flashlight!”
Ironside and Redmond are looking at the scene from inside the cockpit.
The truck, which runs parallel to the left, approaches the side of the vehicle. A soldier leans out the window, pointing a spotlight toward the other car.
“I can’t see anything…”, the voice of the marine comes muffled over the intercom in the helicopter cabin.
“Wait, there’s something… Jesus Christ! What the fuck… Go, go, go! Terry get away!”
Before Redmond and Ironside realize what they just heard, they get a glimpse of something breaking off the window of the vehicle, projecting out and firmly grasping the marine. His body is drawn into the cockpit. For a moment the soldier’s body stays suspended between the two vehicles, then it finally disappears inside the truck.
The voice of McKinnock shouts in the headphones of Ironside and Redmond.
“Shit! Wilford Wilford!”
In the heat of the moment no one notices the truck that is coming from the opposite direction, a few hundred meters further down the track traveled by the convoy.
The roof of the vehicle opens, the figure of Samuel Brody emerges halfway, holding a heavy machine gun of large caliber, with which he begins to target the other vehicles.
The newcomer truck moves towards the convoy, carrying soldiers from the place where the helicopter crashed. As it climbs over the edge of a sand dune, it swerves abruptly, realizing that the other vehicles are moving in his own direction at high speed. Nobody warned the driver about the occurring situation, and the internal communication system, switched from Redmond to contact the three vehicles tracking the truck, made it impossible to hear the conversation between the other drivers.
Everything happens too quickly for the men on board of the aircraft to do anything.
One of the barrage of blows fired by Brody centers the side of the truck driven by Seemore. More bullets hit the fuel tank, just behind the cabin, on the left side, causing an explosion that transforms the vehicle into a fire ball launched in the desert, swerving dangerously to the right.
The driver of the truck coming from the opposite direction tries desperately to divert from the path of the other vehicle, but he is barely able to move a little, just enough to offer the left flank. The vehicle engulfed in flames crashes at full speed into the other, impacting violently on the exposed side, that of the fuel tank. For a moment it seems that nothing is going to happen, then a new explosion shakes both the vehicles. The truck coming from the opposite direction is tipped on its side, in an eruption of violent flames, while the other goes on a rickety running for a few tens of meters before stopping.
Their flames stand out in the dark of night and grow tall.
“Son of a bitch!”, the desperate shout of McKinnock, which steers to get away from the vehicle. This one, however, almost foreseeing its move, steers abruptly remaining flanked at a distance of a couple of meters. From the window opening, where Wilford was grabbed, big tentacles pop out. Some of them huddle around the right mirror of McKinnock’s truck, others burst through the window, gripping and uprooting the entire door and then throwing it up towards the helicopter.
Redmond reacts promptly, drifting the chopper to the left and avoiding the impact by a whisker.
Meanwhile, other monstrous tentacular appendages grow out towards the cabin of the truck running at the left of Brody’s vehicle, while he keeps opening fire undaunted.
McKinnock’s voice sounds loud in a scream in the intercom, then Redmond and Ironside see him jump out of the racing truck and roll in the sand for a few meters before stopping.
“My God! Brimley, can you hear me?”, says Redmond.
“Affirmative, sir!”
“McKinnock is down. He may still be alive. He’s about two hundred meters at 11 o’clock, take him aboard and head right to the base. Got it?”
“Roger that.”
“Redmond do we have weapons on board?”, Ironside.
“There should be explosive crates in the rea…”
The phrase goes off in the throat of Redmond, along with his life. A burst fired by Brody strikes right in the cabin, opening a vertical row of holes in the windshield, followed by a red splash. The head of the marine slumps forward as the helicopter starts to turn on itself, out of control.
USA BASE CNT222
The howling echoes in the base, lasting an incredibly long time. The group of soldiers led by Macready, along with Dr. Ivanov, drop every stealth precaution. The men rush into the gate area. Ivanov is the first to cross the threshold, tailed by the two soldiers. Macready lingers for a while, intent on breaking the optical sensor on each side of the opening with his rifle’s butt. Once sure that the devices can no longer function he presses quickly the emergency closure button.
The gate slides quickly, sealing the first level of the base.
Nothing and no one will ever get out of here…
The group rushes down the stairs, which sink down toward the other basements.