Authors: Robison Wells
JACK HAD HIS EYES CLOSED,
focusing all his attention on Aubrey. The perfume was strong, and he was pulled to her location—it was almost like he could picture her in his head: she was close to an exhaust pipe of one of the trucks and a soldier with body odor. He could hear the low conversation of the Russians and he wished he could understand the language. That was something they needed on their team—a translator.
Josi and Rich had taken off their coats. They were wearing all-black clothing underneath. They both pulled on ski masks, and then waited for Nick to give them the order.
“Ask her if we’re clear to send them,” Nick said, and Tabitha, who was leaning against the side of the van, nodded.
A moment later Jack heard Aubrey’s voice. “It’s clear. I can still see a little bit of the van, but they don’t seem concerned about you. It looks like you’re trying to get into that traffic jam on the other side.”
“They’re good to go,” Jack said.
“Just like we talked about,” Nick said to Josi. She nodded, and then, crouching, began moving into the trees toward the soldiers.
Nick turned to Tabitha. “Find out if there’s anything she can do about that light.”
Jack listened as Aubrey moved—she got higher, like she was climbing. The wind carried her perfume more.
“The floodlight is run by a generator in the back of the truck,” she said. “It’s weird and all the instructions are in Russian, but it looks like the gas ones back home, like at Nicole’s cabin.”
Jack turned to Nick. “She can turn off the generator. That would look like an accident.”
Nick nodded. “Do it.”
Tabitha was motionless.
“Okay,” Aubrey said.
Jack listened to the hum of the generator motor, and Aubrey’s scuffing footsteps as she got closer to it. He could smell the exhaust coming off of it.
Someone lit a cigarette.
“This is weird, Jack,” she said. “Not the generator. I mean, it’s weird being right here with all the Russians.”
He couldn’t help but think it was strange, too, and it made him nervous. She’d been face-to-face with the bad guys before, with terrorists, and even with Green Berets who thought she was the enemy.
But this was war. That was an armored personnel carrier. These were Russians.
It still blew his mind that Russians were the enemy.
He could hear her doing something—moving something metallic. There was a scrape, and a heavy thud.
He held his breath.
“Ask her if she’s all right,” Jack said to Tabitha.
“I’m okay,” Aubrey said, slightly out of breath. “I had to push the generator away from the side of the truck. The soldier up here looks confused, but he’s not drawing his gun or anything.”
“She’s okay,” Jack repeated to Nick. When Aubrey moved something while invisible, whether it was opening a door, or picking something up, or even pushing a person, the confusion that her brain created always seemed to cover it up—people assumed there was a gust of wind, or that they’d stumbled, or that something had been off-balance to begin with.
“I’m going to unhook the battery,” she said. “That should work, right? You know motors better than I do.”
“Tell her yes,” Jack said.
“Got it,” Aubrey said a moment later.
He heard a pop—probably the plastic cover coming off the battery terminal.
“Tell her not to electrocute herself.”
There was a scrape of metal on metal.
Aubrey laughed nervously. “I’m not dumb, Jack. And tell Tabitha she’s not funny.”
The metal continued to scrape—to squeal. It was a tiny sound, but he was hyperattuned to it. She was pulling the cable off the terminal. He could hear her breath get heavier.
“This is tight,” she gasped. “Hang on.”
Nick interrupted his thoughts. “How are Josi and Rich?”
Jack was shaken from the moment, and opened his eyes. He tried to refocus, hearing the sound of feet sliding over rock and past brush. Compared to the battery cable they sounded like elephants.
And then the generator motor puttered.
The light immediately dimmed down to the flicker of a candle.
“
Blyad!
”
“
Schto sluchilos?
”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, and he heard Aubrey say, “Thanks.” Tabitha must have congratulated her.
He focused back on Josi and Rich, who sped up now that the light was out.
“They’re okay,” Jack said. “Maybe fifty more feet to go. Josi’s in the lead; Rich is following.”
“Now what?” Aubrey asked.
“Now what?” Jack asked Nick.
“Where are the Russians?”
He didn’t have to ask Aubrey that, but Tabitha apparently did, because Aubrey started talking just as Jack opened his mouth. He paused to listen to her, and then repeated the information to Nick.
“Four of them are in the bed of the truck. The others are still standing around the BMP. There’s a lot of talking.”
Nick had his arms folded, his thumb in his teeth. “How long before they can get that light back on?”
“All they need to do is replace the battery cable and restart it. Not long if they have a wrench.”
“I want Rich to touch that BMP, not the trucks,” Nick said. “They might not be hardened like it is.”
Jack took in a sharp breath. It would take a big diversion to get everyone on the other side of the road.
“What?” Aubrey said. “The BMP?”
Tabitha had been talking.
“What do you propose?” Jack asked, feeling tightness in his chest. This was the part they were supposed to play by ear, and it could go any number of ways.
“A gun misfire,” Nick said. “Someone on the far side of the road. I want a gun to go off and for it to hit someone.”
There was hardly a pause before Aubrey responded. “He wants me to shoot someone?”
“How?” Jack asked. “With her gun?”
“No,” Nick said. “Pull the trigger on one of their AKs. Fire a burst. Hit someone in the leg.”
“That’s not going to be easy,” Aubrey said almost immediately. “And I don’t like it, Jack. I told you, I don’t want to be an assassin.”
“What if she can think of something else?” Jack asked.
Nick chewed on his thumb, thinking.
“Jack,” a whispered voice said. Josi. “We’re as close as I dare to get.”
“Josi’s in place.”
“Tell them to wait,” Nick said to Tabitha.
There was a pause.
Josi barely breathed her words. “Roger that.” She was probably twenty feet from the nearest truck—the truck full of Russians.
“I don’t want to shoot anyone, Jack,” Aubrey said.
“Ask Aubrey if there’s a target,” Nick said. Jack already knew there was. There were three soldiers standing close together, on the far side of the road.
“A target?” she asked defiantly. “There are soldiers. They look like you, Jack. They’re just teenagers—maybe a little older. I’m supposed to shoot one?”
Jack didn’t repeat what she’d said, but turned to Tabitha. “Ask her if there’s anything else.”
“There’s dry grass,” she said, and then started to move. He followed her movements as she crossed the pavement to the three soldiers.
“She’s going to try something else,” Jack said.
Nick unfolded his arms. “What?”
“I think she’s going to start a fire.”
“Hang on, Jack,” she said.
“A fire will just create more light,” Nick said. “Tell her to shoot him in the damn leg.”
She didn’t answer.
“What did she say?” Nick demanded.
“Nothing,” Jack said.
Nick grabbed Tabitha’s arm. “Tell her that’s an order.”
“Watch this,” Aubrey said. Jack couldn’t see her through the trees, but he knew she was right next to the group of soldiers.
“Ask her what she’s doing,” Jack said.
“No, damn it,” Nick said. “Tell her to follow orders.”
“Flick,” Aubrey said.
“
Chyort!
”
“Ask her what she’s doing,” Jack said, but then he smelled it. Aubrey was moving toward the brush on the far side of the road, carrying the cigarette with her.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Come on.”
“What’s she doing, Jack?” Nick demanded.
“I was right. She’s starting a fire.”
Jack heard the Russian say something that sounded like it was probably a swearword, and the two other men laughed. Jack focused on the cigarette. The smell of burning tobacco was pungent and smelled gross next to Aubrey’s perfume.
“Damn it,” Nick said. “Tell her to fire the gun.”
But then Jack smelled it—the softer, subtler smell of burning weeds.
“Too late,” Jack said.
“Distraction started,” Aubrey said triumphantly. “I’m getting tired, Jack. And seriously, tell Tabitha to shut up.”
For a moment—a long moment—everyone was quiet.
“The wind caught his cigarette,” Aubrey said, obviously pleased. “Blew it in the weeds.”
“Pozhar!”
And then suddenly all the Russians were talking at once, and moving toward the fire. Jack heard them getting out of the back of the truck, and the commander in the BMP turret was saying something that sounded urgent.
“Nobody needs to get shot,” Aubrey said.
“They’re all moving to the fire,” Jack said to Nick. “It’s a good distraction.”
“They’re going to put it out fast. There are probably fire extinguishers in all three of those vehicles.”
“What do we tell Josi and Rich?”
“Damn it,” Nick said, pacing back and forth behind the cover of pines. “Ask them if they have a clear path.”
“We do,” Josi said. “But the guy’s still in his turret. We’ll be right under him.”
“They do,” Jack told Nick. “But what about the guys in the BMP?”
“Tell Aubrey to get her butt over to the BMP, and get ready to drop a grenade in the hatch. And tell her that’s an effing order.”
Tabitha nodded.
“He’s kidding, right?”
Jack turned to Tabitha. “Tell her Jack says to do it.”
Nick spun. “What’s that supposed to mean? She listens to you, but not me? Isn’t this the frigging army?”
“Just tell her,” Jack said. He looked at Nick. “We’re running out of time.”
Nick shook his head. “Send in Josi and Rich. And tell Aubrey they’re coming.”
Jack listened as Josi and Rich darted from the wood line and up onto the road. They ran to the base of the BMP; he could tell they were on their knees by the tracks.
Aubrey was moving away from the fire and toward the big vehicle, too. Jack heard her unzip her coat.
“A grenade?” she said. “Jack, I just saved someone from getting a bullet in the leg, and now he wants me to drop a grenade in the BMP? And tell Tabitha that yes, I’m going, and shut up.”
“She’s going,” Jack said.
Nick was looking at Tabitha. “Tell her to be ready to drop that grenade inside if there’s any sign that Rich and Josi have been spotted.”
Aubrey was next to the BMP now, and Jack could hear her unclip a grenade from the vest inside her coat.
“This is a stupid plan,” Aubrey said. “I could drop this in an empty truck cab just as easily and no one would get hurt. And yes, Tabitha, I know we’re at war; people are going to get hurt. But these particular people don’t have to get hurt right now.”
Jack could hear Rich whispering to Josi.
“Eight-cylinder diesel engine . . . fourteen-point-eight liters displacement . . .”
“I don’t know if you can see this, Jack,” Aubrey said, “but I was right. This whole roadside is going up, and they’re chasing it with fire extinguishers.”
“Is she doing it?” Nick demanded.
Jack nodded that she was as Aubrey kept talking.
“Who is being the bigger jerk? Tabitha or Nick? Because I can take it if it’s Nick, but if Tabitha thinks she can boss me around like this then we’re going to have words.”
Something felt wrong. Jack was overloaded with sensory information—the smoke from the fire, the fizzing of the extinguishers, the specs Rich was reciting to Josi, the angry calls in Russian—but something else was happening and Jack couldn’t put his finger on it.
He looked at Nick, staring as he listened.
“What is it?” Nick said, running his fingers through his red hair.
Krezi, who’d been quiet this whole time, stood up.
“Guys?” she said.
Jack looked at her, still knowing that he was missing something.
She pointed a finger toward the endless row of cars heading east on the freeway. Jack turned to see what she was pointing at, and saw that the endless row was . . . ending. Disappearing into the blackness. It was as if the world was falling away, car after car falling off the end of the world.
His eyes adjusted and he saw that the cars were still there, but they had gone completely dark—and the edge of darkness was moving toward them rapidly.
“Nick,” Jack said. “That electronic interference—we’re about to be right in the middle of it.”
Nick stepped forward and watched the approaching line of darkness.
“Tell Rich,” he said urgently, turning to Tabitha. “See what happens to the BMP.”
“Does this mean we’re going to get attacked?” Jack asked.
“We need to give Rich and Josi more time.” Nick grabbed Krezi’s arm. “Get up there in the trees, and watch over them. Shoot anyone that spots them.”
She nodded and stripped off her coat to reveal the black sweater underneath. She pulled on her ski mask and then hurried forward, almost running through the woods.
“THE LIGHTS ARE GOING TO
go out,” Tabitha said. “That Russian thing is coming here.”
“Is it coming for us?” Aubrey asked, suddenly tense. Her arm was getting tired from holding the grenade out beside the BMP driver’s head.
It wasn’t the high explosive grenade—the M67—that she’d learned to throw in basic training. Instead, she’d chosen an M84, a so-called “flashbang” grenade because it made a deafening noise and a blinding flash. She’d been armed with both types, but Aubrey didn’t want to drop a high explosive into the BMP—and she hadn’t been ordered to. This would have the same effect. It would render it, and the people inside, useless, and she wouldn’t be killing anyone.
She hoped. She was dropping it right into the driver’s lap, and she had no idea what kind of damage it would cause that close.
And now the lights were going out.
“Stay there until we give the order,” Tabitha said, her tone authoritative and annoying. “We have to make sure that Josi and Rich have time.”
Aubrey looked at the fire, which was getting under control. The soldiers weren’t as concerned about it anymore, now that they’d extinguished the bushes closest to the truck. Only three of the nine men had extinguishers, and one man unzipped his pants and began to pee on the flames. The others laughed.
She could take them all with one grenade, she thought, and she was glad Nick wasn’t here to offer that as a suggestion.
“Jack, what does it mean that the lights are going out?” Their team could blend in with the mass of citizens on the freeway, but Aubrey would have to get rid of her grenades and sidearm. The Beretta M9 seemed to weigh heavily on her hip, though it was still covered by her long coat.
Everything seemed heavier. She always forgot how much being invisible wore her out until she was forced to do it for a long time.
“We don’t know about invasion,” Tabitha said, finally answering her question. “Hold there until you get further orders.”
And then their lights went out. The dim floodlight that was still running off the remaining charge in the generator flickered out, and the controls in the hatch of the BMP went dark.
“Schto zdyes proeshodit?”
“Prover rahdyo.”
“Jack,” Aubrey said. “The BMP lost power. I thought the whole point of this was that the BMP doesn’t lose power when the electronic interference comes. Isn’t that why we’re here?”
There was no answer for a long time. The driver ducked lower in his seat and began messing with switches.
“Stay in position,” Tabitha said. “We don’t know what’s going on.”
The Russian in the turret stood up taller and called to the men on the side of the road. Everyone except the ones with extinguishers hurried back, the one man zipping his fly.
“Jack,” Aubrey said. “I think they’re getting organized again. Josi and Rich need to get out of here.”
“Roger that,” Tabitha said. “Hold on, Aubrey.”
There was a long pause, and then Tabitha added, “Maybe they wouldn’t be getting organized if you’d shot one of them.”
Aubrey exhaled long and slow to keep her temper, and she tightened her grip on the grenade.
The commander was giving orders, pointing all around. He gestured in a big circle around the BMP.
“Jack, they’re calm. They’re getting in a defensive formation, but they’re calm,” Aubrey said. “What does that mean?”
A moment later Tabitha spoke. “Josi and Rich
need
to move.”
The Russians started to spread out, and Aubrey strained to see over the BMP to the other side, where Josi and Rich were still crouched. She saw a flicker of blackness against the white line at the edge of the road.
Tabitha’s voice came to her. “We’ve pulled them.”
“Vot oni tahm!”
the commander called, and pointed toward where the two had just run into the forest.
“Dang it,” Aubrey said, more to herself than to Jack, but then she spoke out loud. “I think they were spotted. We’ve got two—no, four—soldiers going after them. They’re at the tree line—the soldiers, I mean.”
She wished her eyes were better, and she cursed the darkness. Her arm ached from holding it out, so she pulled it back, clipping the grenade to her vest inside her coat. She took out her Beretta, chambered a round, and flicked off the safety. This was not where she wanted to be.
“What do I do, Jack?”
Tabitha’s response was quick. “Don’t let Josi and Rich get followed.”
Aubrey skirted the edge of the BMP. No one could see her—certainly not the big gun, which was motionless. It sounded like the engine had failed—the Russian commander was shouting down at his driver, and the driver was shouting back at him.
The four Russians stood at the tree line. Aubrey ran past them, hurtling into the darkness, only to catch her foot on something and fall to one knee. Her eyesight was getting worse—she’d been invisible for too long.
But she could see what she’d caught her foot on.
It was Rich. He was less than ten feet from the Russians, facedown in the bushes and holding perfectly still.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “Jack, they’re right here, right in front of the Russians.”
She looked up at the four men. They had their automatic rifles pointed right at her. They’d probably heard her stumble over Rich. Maybe he’d made a noise. She didn’t know.
“Jack, what do I do?”
“You shoot them,” Tabitha said, her words slow and deliberate. “You’re a soldier. This is what you signed up for.”
Aubrey was at a loss for words.
She held her gun up, pointing it at the chest of one of the men. He was wearing a Kevlar vest, and she adjusted her aim to his head.
Her hand shook.
“Jack, Tabitha said you want me to shoot these guys. Can you confirm that for me?”
“You have to trust me,” Tabitha said. “This is coming from Nick. We have to get Josi and Rich out.”
Aubrey still stared. One of the men took a step forward, and the others did the same. They took another step.
There was a brilliant beam of blue-white light that blasted from somewhere behind Aubrey, hitting one of the men full in the chest. He flew backward in what seemed like slow motion.
Krezi.
And then Aubrey’s training finally kicked in.
She fired two shots into the next man, only ten feet from her. He dropped like a stone. Krezi blasted at another, and then Aubrey fired again, dropping the fourth.
She reached into her coat and grabbed a grenade—it was round in her hand, not cylindrical. High explosive. She yanked the pin and threw it toward the BMP and the remaining soldiers.
Aubrey dropped to the ground, covering her head, and the grenade cracked with a concussive
whump!
“Go,” she said, shoving Rich and Josi before she realized she was still invisible.
“Jack, get them out of here.” She stood up and pointed her Beretta back toward the BMP. There were no men visible.
Josi moved, and grabbed Rich, shouting, “Come on!”
Aubrey’s hands were shaking, and she could feel sweat dripping down her back despite the cold.
“Take the rest of them out,” Tabitha said. “You and Krezi.”
“Why?” Aubrey asked, staring blankly at the side of the BMP, knowing five soldiers were hiding on the other side, and three more waited inside.
“They can’t call for backup if their radios are down,” Tabitha said, sounding far too calm. “But they’ll be up again soon. We can’t let anyone get that chance.”
Something flew over the top of the BMP, and Aubrey ran forward, slamming her shoulder into the vehicle and dropping to her knees.
The Russian grenade exploded in the forest, and a jolt of white-hot pain seared through Aubrey’s leg. She gritted her teeth, unclipped another high explosive from her vest, and stood up long enough to drop it into the open turret. She ducked again, and the blast was muffled by the heavy steel of the vehicle’s walls.
She’d had to kill three more, she thought. “Three more,” she said out loud. And she started to cry.
But she didn’t stop.
A man appeared around the edge of the BMP, firing blindly into the forest. Aubrey turned to shoot him, but Krezi hit him first. He flew backward and out of sight. Aubrey took a breath and marched around the backside of the BMP to where four soldiers sat crouched.
They never saw her. Probably never heard the pop of her pistol as she tore through them. Together, the four of them slumped against the tracks of the BMP, unmoving.
“Oh God.”