“Christ! That’s an aggressive play. They must be convinced the nuclear theory is a real threat… So, presumably, GlobaTech will then move in on the ground, storm through the front door and clean up whatever’s left?”
“Basically, yeah.”
Which is all well and good, but…
“What’s their stance on any civilian casualties?” I ask, thinking of Clara.
Josh sighs loudly. “Acceptable.”
27
I drop a twenty on the table, pick up my bag, and leave the restaurant. I walk fast down the street and around the back of the building to the parking lot. Josh is still on the phone.
“Tell me where I can find Dark Rain’s compound and the fastest route to get there,” I demand.
“Adrian, I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to let you do it. It’s suicide!”
“I’m not asking, Josh.”
“And what are you going to do when you get there? You won’t even get in the front gate before you’re gunned down. I’m not sending you to your death, Adrian. I’m sorry. I understand how you feel — believe me, I feel the same way. Clara’s worked well with us, and I know you like her — despite your protests. But this is the U.S. government, okay? Those F-22 fighter jets are already being mobilized — in little under an hour, they’re gonna come screaming across the skies, sweep over that compound, and reduce the whole place to dust. It’s a done deal. Game over, Adrian. Nothing positive will come from you going there all pissed off and guns blazing. I wanna get Clara back too, but we have to let GlobaTech handle that and hope that she survives the airstrike.”
I’m silent for a moment, so I can compose myself before speaking again. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
“The address, Josh.”
He sighs, realizing after years of experience when it’s pointless to argue with me.
“Ah, bollocks. I’m texting you the details now,” he says with resignation. “Should take you just over fifteen minutes from where you are in current traffic.”
“Thank you.”
“Adrian, try not to get yourself killed, alright? If you’re not bothered about coming out of this in one piece, fine. But do it for me, okay?”
I hang up without replying and scan the parking lot. I quickly look over all the cars before resting my gaze on a black Audi, which looks reasonably new, pretty durable, and most importantly, very fast. I walk over, taking out one of my Berettas and smashing the driver’s side window with the butt as I approach the car, immediately setting off the alarm. I duck inside and place my bag on the passenger seat before reaching beneath the steering wheel and pulling the wires out, working quickly to stop the alarm and start the car.
Eleven seconds, start to finish.
I close the door and drive off, the tires screeching as the back end drifts out from the reckless acceleration.
I’m driving as fast as I dare, weaving in and out of traffic. I have absolutely no plan. I’ve not got round to thinking past the anger yet. Ideally, I’m going to drive straight through the front gate and get out shooting, taking out every single one of them bastards until I find Clara.
That’s what I want to do.
However, despite how I’m feeling, even I realize that if I actually do that, it’s very unlikely I’ll make it within fifty feet of the front gate, let alone out of the car with a gun in my hand.
I’ll think of something though. I check my watch. I’m running out of time.
I turn on to the main highway and leave the city limits behind me. I follow it for a couple of miles until it meet the state road, then I head left, out toward the mountains that border Heaven’s Valley to the west.
As I’m driving along the road, pushing ninety, I can’t help but look around at the scenery — the mountain backdrop and the desert, stretching out to the horizon in all directions. Despite everything, I find myself smiling as I realize I’m blasting down the same road I walked down when I first arrived here a few days ago. I marvel at the irony that things are seemingly going to end exactly where they started.
I just hope I’ll be able to walk back down this road again someday…
I’m following the directions Josh texted me. After a few miles along the state road, there’s a right turn down an unmarked dirt track. I make my way down it, feeling the suspension of the car wrestling with the uneven surface underneath. A couple of minutes later, I see a dusty, damaged signpost at the side of the track, attached to a telegraph pole. It says that there’s a military-controlled testing site a mile ahead. Someone’s spray-painted Welcome to Paradise across it.
I drive on slowly for another minute before pulling over. It’s probably best I make the final approach on foot, to minimize visibility. No point in announcing my arrival any earlier than I need to.
Keeping low, I move cautiously in a wide arc to my left — the intention being to approach out of the line of sight of any guard posts on the main gate.
I check my watch again. I reckon I’ve got maybe thirty-five minutes before the airstrike hits.
I make my way up a small slope and navigate a cluster of rocks, before coming to the edge of a small rise. I crouch down and take a look around.
Laid out In front of me is the base. It’s much bigger than I thought it’d be, sprawling out across the landscape behind a huge fence. I’ve brought the scope from my sniper rifle with me. I put it to my eye and adjust the focus, then scan the vast compound.
It’s large and impressive, with a razor wire fence surrounding the perimeter. Either side of the main gates, there are two guard towers. From my position, I’m looking down at it from a slight angle. Behind the fencing is an array of buildings that vary in shape and size. There are barracks, a hangar, a vehicle depot, and a large concrete building with a huge, metal door in the center of it.
I can also see a large camouflaged tent at the far end of the compound, which has tarpaulin covering two large rectangular objects that look like massive boxes.
I study the entire area. I look over every inch twice. My spider sense is going haywire. Something definitely isn’t right…
The place is deserted.
There are no vehicles parked anywhere. There are no soldiers stationed at any of the lookout posts. In fact, there’s no troop movement within the grounds of any kind. You’d be forgiven for assuming that there would be at least some activity, given the fact they’re meant to be a large militia planning an imminent attack on American soil.
I put my scope away and sigh with a mixture of confusion and concern.
Where the hell is everyone?
I scramble down the slope and land almost level with the corner of the fence. I crouch down and look around, but I still can’t see anyone. I slowly approach the main gate, instinctively reaching behind me and grabbing a Beretta.
Even though it’s still early, the sun is blasting down at a ridiculous temperature. There’s no shade out here — there’s not even any clouds. The sky is blue and clear and on any other day, this place would look stunning. The western mountain range looms ominously in the distance. I look over to my right, away from the compound and see the other range of mountains, with a reservoir at the foot of it. But today, it looks like a graveyard.