At the other end of the pass was a village built of sand-colored stone which rose up out of the landscape like a natural formation. It was part of the land, and Jack wondered if that was what had spared it from the onslaught. The village was whole, intact and full of people, and along the road stood a handful of soldiers in desert camouflage with assault rifles slung over their shoulders. For the first time Jack could remember, he was glad to see soldiers. Overjoyed, in fact.
With the fish van behind him, Jack pulled the jeep over and killed the engine, then he peeled off his gas-mask. He took one giant lung full of clean air. Fresh, reasonably dust free air. He held it as long as he could, and the feeling was amazing. As he took the second deep breath, he heard Nikitin doing the same beside him.
In another moment, he pulled off all his extra layers and tossed them in the back seat, until he was down to just the jumpsuit. He felt naked, and he was quickly struck by how bad he smelled.
“I was starting to worry the whole world was choked up with that cloud of shit,” Nikitin said. “Would you look at this, though. It didn’t even make it over the Hindu Kush.”
“Unbelievable,” Jack said as he stretched. He felt the overwhelming urge to curl up on the nearest rock and take a long nap. To sun himself like a lizard.
A soldier marched up to the jeep. He was a young man, a couple years younger than Jack, but moved like a seasoned veteran. The markings on his uniform were Mashriq Coalition, a union of middle-eastern nations that was had helped found the United Earth Organization. The Mashriq Coalition was always fighting separatists somewhere in its territory, and one could always any given soldier had seen his share of action.
“More orange jumpsuits?” The soldier said in disbelief. His English carried the slightest trace of an accent. “Every time we think we’ve seen the last of you, more come through that pass with another pack of refugees. They’ve all been Chinese and Indian, though. Where are you from, my friends?”
Jack was glad to hear they weren’t the first group, and he guessed they wouldn’t be the last either. “Pacific States Alliance,” he said, “San Jose. Our tranzat went down over Szechuan province, and we’ve been hoofing it ever since.”
“You’re quite a way from home. Tell me, can anything kill you oranges?”
“Nothing yet,” Nikitin said with a smile and they laughed. Jack could always count on Nikitin for bravado, if nothing else.
“So, where do we go next?” Jack asked. He was trying to recall the local organization from his last trip to Afghanistan. “Is there a refugee camp in Jalalabad, or do we truck all the way to Kabul?”
The soldier laughed again. That couldn’t be a good sign. “You’re a rare one, to be so optimistic after a march through hell. There is no Jalalabad or Kabul. The entire Mashriq is in ruins. The whole world, if what I hear is true.”
Jack hoped he’d somehow misunderstood the soldier. “Come on… The UEO must be coordinating something.”
“Perhaps I was not clear. The UEO is gone, friend. Everything’s been burnt to ash, and there’s no one left to run anything. There are only refugees like you and me.”
Jack felt like he was on the receiving end of a cruel joke. “Everything? Europe? North America?”
“Everything. A pair of Blade Valkyries just returned from North America, and they say its the same there as everywhere.”
“Son of a bitch,” Nikitin said.
“Where do we go?” Jack asked again, but it was hardly a question. He closed his eyes and saw the ghosts of his life back home, a life that was already dead and gone. His beautiful Jessica was there in the pale light of an approaching storm, waiting for him to come home. Waiting for him to ask a question to which she’d already said yes. She told him that she would always be there waiting for him, and he refused to let the promise go. He had survived against all odds, and she must have survived too. Somehow.
When he opened his eyes, the ghosts were gone.
“You have two choices,” the soldier said. “The first is to head for the North, as many others have. There are rumors of enclaves sprouting up in Russia around their Ark. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear the same about the other two, but who knows.”
The Ark Project had been started a couple decades before, but never totally finished; it turned into such a massive boondoggle that folks wondered if the GAF was running the show. The Arks themselves were huge underground shelters to be used in the event of a planet killer asteroid, each designed to hold a few million people indefinitely. They were located far off the equator to maximize their distance from potential impact zones, or that was the official story, at least. Jack always thought their locations suspect, likely influenced by politics and money. There were three, one each in Russia, Canada and Australia.
It made a lot of sense to try and reorganize there.
The soldier pointed out across the thousands of cars coming through the pass. “That’s what I would recommend for most of them. There’s life there, and maybe some kind of future.”
“And the other option?” Nikitin asked.
“Join our struggle and give the infidels hell. I know that most of you oranges are hard set against violence, but perhaps the situation is different now? I can see that you are survivors, and I’m sure your skills would find use.”
“What struggle?” Jack asked. “You said everything’s gone.”
The soldier laughed yet again. Jack was starting to think that he and the soldier had very different senses of humor. “You are so fast to lay down your arms, American. Your people have never been invaded, have they? You see, in my world, invasion is all we’ve ever known. It is our entire history. First the Greeks, then the Indians, the English, Soviets, Americans, and Indians once again. This land has been invaded a thousand times already, and it will be invaded a thousand more. When the smoke clears and these invaders are gone, who do you think will remain?”
The soldier’s rhetorical question was met with silence, and he smiled.
“They have taken Africa as their own, and we will force them out however we can. The Mashriq is our front-line, and soldiers of every flag are united in the struggle. Mashriq Coalition, your Blade and Carbon corporations, and more Mujahidin than can be counted. UEO and separatists standing together… isn’t that something? Soon, the oil will begin to flow, and the war will truly begin. Of course, we could always use more help.”
More help. That phrase made it sound so innocuous, like they needed an extra hand raising a barn or passing out fliers. Still, Jack knew the soldier was right. This wasn’t a petty political disagreement. It wasn’t a conflict of ideologies. The enemy was here to exterminate the human race, and resistance was the only option.
“Should you decide to join us, there is an airfield south of Jalalabad that we use. Transports leave everyday. They will take you to our forward base.”
Jack closed his eyes again, but before he could see the ghosts of his past, his decision was already made.
Chapter 19:
The Distant Shore
Midday on Mars. The sun shone brightly, but a sandstorm was brewing on the horizon, hazing the line where dusty ground met rusty sky. Somewhere over that horizon lurked the biggest mountain anyone had ever seen, rising thirty kilometers into the emaciated sky, but no one would ever believe it was a mountain while standing on it. Its body stretched over an area the size of France, with a grade nearly as steep as a wheelchair ramp.
Amira Saladin was a teenager the first time she made the trip with her parents. They pointed at the ground and told her she was on the peak of the tallest mountain in the solar system. At the time, she didn’t believe a word of it. Fifteen years and more than a dozen return trips later, she still found it difficult to believe. It was a let down, actually.