The Major calls for a hammer or something to take out the nails. Nervous sweat blossoms from his pores and streams down his face. There’s no hammer, but there is a small pry bar, it will do. He takes it from a soldier and digs the teeth of it into the soft, brown, wood of the crate. It takes some work to pry the lid up, and then he slams it down to reveal enough of the nails to pry them out. He throws each to the ground. The lid can be removed now, but he stands up and takes several deep breaths. He looks at the assemblage of people in the meeting room, too nervous to really focus on their faces. He bends down to where the crate rests on the floor. He digs his fingers under the lip of the lid and lifts it just a little at first, but it’s not enough to see inside, then he lifts it, and it falls to the floor.
Inside the crate is something that Major Connors recognizes instantly. It’s a long hollow pipe with a small, round handle protruding from the bottom. And beside it, a small elongated mushroom-shaped device is pressed gently into the foam padding surrounding both objects.
“What is that?” says Dr. Valentine.
“That is a whole-lotta-hurt,” says Connors.
“This here’s what you call a Bazooka, ma’am,” says Collier. “A certified tank killer.”
“Is there just the one bullet?” says Dr. Valentine.
The colonel looks at Connors, hoping they found more.
“No, there weren’t any other crates,” says Connors. “We took out everything that was in that godforsaken place. It was just these few crates.”
“Okay, so what are we going to do?” says, Shaw. “They can’t have Rose. How are we going to keep them from taking her?”
The room is silent. Connors is moving things around in his head. Placing them together to see how they fit. Then, he takes them apart again and tries new pieces until the answer comes to him. “Colonel, when we drove into Fort Worth, we passed a large industrial factory with hydrogen storage tanks. Do you know if those tanks are still full?”
“We’ve had no need for hydrogen, so except for scavengin’ a few supplies in the beginnin’, we haven’t been back there,” says the colonel.
“Do you know if the hydrogen storage tanks are full?” the major says.
“What do you have in mind,” asks Dr. Valentine.
“Well if the queen wants the girl so much, I say we hand her over,” says Connors.
“What? No,” pleads Dr. Valentine.
“No, we can’t do that.” Dr. Shaw agrees. It’s one of the few times that Dr. Shaw and Dr. Valentine have ever agreed on anything.
Connors asks for something to write with and some paper. A soldier hands him a worn-down pencil and a crinkled piece of notebook paper. He draws out the hydrogen plant on the paper, what he can recall from memory, the rest is guesswork, but it’s enough to get his idea across.
“If those things out there, want her so badly, they won’t stop until they have her. They know we came here in the Flying Fish, right? So, if we were to set a trap at this location…” says Connors, pointing to the place on the map where the hydrogen factory is located. “…using the right bait, then just maybe, we can take some of them down… if not all of them. And hopefully, we can get the queen.”
“I don’t understand,” says Dr. Valentine. “How is getting them to follow us to the plant going to help? They’re stronger than us. They will kill us and take Rose. You can’t hope to win a battle with them. They outnumber us at least five to one.”
“I don’t think a battle is what the Major has in mind,” says Shaw.
Dr. Valentine looks to Shaw and back to the major, then to the bazooka. “Surely, you can’t be serious?”
“Tonight, I’ll take that little gem,” says Connors, nodding his head toward the bazooka, and try and to get them to follow me to the plant. When I get’em inside… well, you’ll know if I’m successful or not. The explosion will be more than impressive, to say the least. As soon as you see that they’re following me, you get the kid and get out of here. Head toward the ship and see if there is anything there that could possibly help to fix this messed up world.”
“It’s a death sentence. You’ll never make it out,” says Dr. Valentine. The look on her face is one of deep concern and sickened terror.
“No, it’s not a sure thing, but if I can draw them in, and then get clear in time, I should be able to take the shot from a safe distance. It’ll be damn tricky, but I think I can do it,” says the major.
“It’s a good plan,” says the colonel, “except for one thing.”
“What’s that, sir?” says Connors.
“You’re not the ranking officer here. I am,” says the colonel, tapping himself on his chest with his thumb. “Are you tryin’ to make me look like a slacker in front of my men, Major?
“No, sir… but… um,” says Connors.
“But um, nothin’,” says the colonel. “We have the plan, but there will be one small change. I’ll be doing it, and you’ll go to the crash site.”
“But, sir,” says Connors.
“But nothing Major Connors, that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sun seemed to fall faster than naturally possible. There wasn’t much time to make a solid plan, so they decide that they can’t take a chance and wait any longer. The Colonel loads up the payload into the back of the Flying Fish, while the soldiers busy themselves making scarecrows to closely resemble both Dr. Shaw and Dr. Valentine, and a smaller one that is supposed to look like Rose. The place the decoys into the old ambulance so they can be seen through the windows.
Another vehicle is brought from somewhere in the compound. Connors likes this better than the Flying fish because it runs quieter and because of the reinforced grating welded over the windows and the large, flat, steel plates placed over the wheels to protect them from another well-aimed spear.
“Showtime, Major,” comes the voice of the colonel through the radio. “Remember to give me enough time to get the Turned into the plant before you move out.”
Connors lifts the mic and squeezes the button to respond. “Will do. Good luck.”
It’s quiet, too quiet at the soldiers open the main gate just wide enough for the Flying Fish to slide through. Men are posted up high and searching the perimeter for any movement. Someone calls out “No sign of hostiles.” And Connors watches as the colonel builds speed to draw the attention of the Turned army. The old ambulance rattles as it builds up speed and travels across the bricked streets.
At the outermost edge of the binocular’s lenses, Connors catches a splash of dark crimson, which grows like a puddle of blood against a moonlit sky. “Colonel, movement at your 2 o’clock.” Connors thumbs the dial in the center of the binoculars to focus in on the crimson heard moving toward the Flying Fish as it hurries onward to the hydrogen plant.
Something in Connors’s gut tells him something is off. Something doesn’t feel right, but he’s not sure what. His attention is distracted by the crackling voice of the colonel, who radios back to say he has eyes on the enemy. He’s going to get the herd to follow him in through the plant’s entry gates, and when he does, that’ll be Connor’s signal to get moving. Connors responds that he understands and pushes down on the clutch with his left foot. He takes the parking brake off, and the truck rolls forward a few inches toward the front gate of Last Command.
“Get ready, Major. When I’m in, you go,” says the colonel, dropping the mic to the floor of the Fish.
Connors hands the binoculars to Dr. Valentine and tells her to let him know when the Turned are all inside the plant. She nods her head, showing him that she understands. Then she tells him that the Colonel’s lead isn’t as large as it should be and that the Red Army has closed much of the gap. Moments later, Dr. Valentine tells the major that it’s safe to move out and that all the Turned are inside, but she also sounds very concerned because the colonel didn’t come out the other side of the plant, as was the plan.