Bill's hands went from his upper lip to Ethan's keys that he turned over and over.
"Remember I told you my uncle was in North Carolina?"
"Camp Lejeune, a marine base. So what?"
"The so
-
what is, that members of every damn special forces group are down there too or at least they were two days ago."
"You say that like you don't think they are now."
"I was on
line with 'Hunker'. You remember Hunker don't you?"
"Yeah, he was that black Captain that we used to tease the hell out of down in Afganistan wasn't he? Because of the way he used to hunker-down whenever he had to parachute? I remember the way we had to boot his ass out of those planes more than once."
“Ole Hunker is a Lieutenant
-
Colonel now, and privy to information from Central Command. He's the strategic planner for the Army Rangers. Because he assumed that my uncle would have let me in on it, he let it slip with his dissatisfaction over having to share a mission with the squids and the jarheads. Well, I went right along with him saying that it was a shame since they're such glory hounds. Then mentioned when he was in town we should get together."
Bill hushed as the middle
-
aged, weather
-
worn waitress with the conspicuously missing front tooth, brought his soup and slaw. She regarded Bill with a wary eye to make sure nothing jumped off him. Setting the utensils near his plate, she made a hasty retreat for the kitchen. Bill resumed talking and commenced eating at the same time. Food began to fly everywhere.
"Of course I had no idea what Hunker was talking about. I sure enough did, though, after talking with Uncle Tex!"
Ethan looked up from his glass and watched Bill inhale food. A piece of coleslaw hung precariously from Bill’s mustache. Watching the piece of cabbage flutter up and down as Bill chewed and talked made Ethan nervous.
"Anyway, after getting the royal shuffle I call my Uncle. I was about to to tell him what the MP had to say and he begins to tell me about it. He told me that they're ready to declare open season on the Apocs."
Ethan's eyes widened with surprise.
"And he says it's going to be right here in Virginia Beach
--
well, I mean Norfolk. It's just going to be one of about a dozen cities that they hit. From what I understand it's going to be fast, furious, and big. Take care of the problem once and for all."
"So what makes you think that they're no longer there?"
"We were supposed to talk last night and when I didn't hear from him I called. Not only did they say he wasn't there, but said that he never was."
"Think they're going to drop a nuke on Oceanview Avenue?" Ethan tried to make light even though he realized the seriousness.
"No, but what I do think is that they’re here right now. Lots of activity last night over at Oceana. Anyway, when they do hit it'll be a surgical strike at the Naval Operations Base
--
I think."
Bill cut off just as the waitress reappeared at the table with his burger and fries. She took his slaw dish even as he was trying to sop up the leftover juice with a piece of bread. He quickly switched his attention to the half
-
pound burger smothered in fried onions, bacon and cheese. Ethan winced as he watched Bill tear into Mr. Greenies' masterpiece.
With a fry in his fingers to punctuate his point and chewing on the hamburger he continued:
"This guy we brought in the other night, the MP, they think he was cured when he fell into the Bay. I'm getting away from the point." Bill shoved the sandwich into his mouth and almost choked. "This Abaddon dude was pumping information out of this guy about which ships were going to be at port, what subs were going to be there. How many men, etcetera, etcetera. They also said something to the MP about a TV show. I have no idea what that means and I guess neither did he. Last time I talked to Uncle Tex he was pretty convinced they're going to attack the base in the next few days."
"But how can the Apocs even have a hope in hell going up against the US Navy?"
"You haven't been there lately. The place is like a ghost
town. There's so little non
-
essential traffic that at night the MP's have orders to shoot first and ask questions later."
"What are the Apocs after?"
"Uncle Tex seems to think that they're after the sub that guy Abaddon used to be second in command on. His name is actually Brian Speakes. He was the Lieutenant Commander on the Michigan."
"The Michigan?"
"Yeah, an Ohio Class Boomer with twenty
-
four submarine launched intercontinental ballistic missiles all loaded and ready to roar."
"I thought when they came into port they removed the nukes and sent them up to the Yorktown Naval Weapons Station?"
"They do on the ships, but not on the subs—not the big ones at least. They're always on ready alert in case of a national emergency. Unless, of course, they're in for repairs, and the Michigan's not. It's in port because the Navy doesn't have a ready crew to operate it. That's why they don't just set her to sea. They're flying in a skeleton crew from the ‘Ohio’, but the ‘Ohio’ is currently in the Mediterranean Sea. They won't get here till Monday.”
"What do they plan to do with the sub even if they are able to take it?"
"According to my Uncle . . . " Bill said then started to choke on his hamburger but recovered. “He says they don't know how this Speakes guy slipped through their fingers in the first place. He says that there are some pretty wicked things in his psychological profile and background check. This dude, who had one of the two keys on board to start World War 3, is suffering from some sort of Napoleon Complex. I got the impression he's a pretty dangerous kind of guy. You know what Voltaire said, 'Chance is a word that does not make sense. Nothing happens without a cause.'"
"So I take it you think Abaddon—or Speakes—or whatever the hell his name is, has some sort of ulterior motive?" Ethan said.
"From what I can see he won't stop until he has it all—or is dead."
"Yet he's somewhat of an indestructible bloke too, or at least it would seem. Jesus Christ Bill, that damn guy, I hit with enough wallop to kill an elephant."
"Gave his face a lickin, but the son of a bitch kept on tickin. I don't claim to understand any of this psychological mumbo
-
jumbo, but Uncle Tex is fairly sure they’re going for the sub and I believe him. He asked if we could help out?”
Ethan stared blankly as Bill took a half-filled ketchup bottle emptied it on his remaining Greenie Burger and fries. There were liberal red sploches everywhere; on the food, on the plate, silverware, his napkin and face. It was business as usual for Bill. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. Ethan realized that his best friend very well could be a slob.
Ethan looked up and into Bill's eyes and the impact of what he had said finally hit him. "What did you say . . . he wants us to help? Us? As in
you
?”
"No Ethan,
us
. He asked about you specifically."
"What does he need us for . . . traffic control?"
"It's not any big secret that the apocs are using the storm drains. He wants us to create a little diversion and maybe kill a few apocs at the same time."
"There's something about your involvement with this whole thing that's not sitting right with me. Whatever it is, all I know is I'm not messing around with explosives. If that's what he—or should I say, you, have in mind." Ethan was unaware that he was shaking his head from side to side.
Bill continued unperturbed, "He wants us to lay down a few incendiaries at the main junction points. With motion sensitive detonators, of course. He wants them in every drain in or out of NOB. Either that or—"
"Or what?"
"Get to Abaddon before he gets to the base."
Ethan glanced around the restaurant. It had always been a place where he felt comfortable. Suddenly he felt the walls closing in on him. Ethan hated incendiary bombs. He was very proficient in their use; nonetheless, he hated them. After seeing an enlisted man go up in flames during a training exercise, he had tried to stay away. They were a fiery, painful, inhumane way to die, and they didn't care who their victims were. If he was going to kill he preferred to do it with a gun or with his bare hands. With his hands he knew who his victim was, and it could be quick and painless.
"So you might as well tell me the rest of it,” Ethan said afraid to hear the rest.
"He wants us to spend the weekend aboard the submarine
--
"
"Bill god
-
dammit! This is insane! We're not in the army anymore. We're not getting paid to put our dicks on the chopping block. At least I'm not."
"Hey ole buddy, I thought you liked this stuff as much as I did?"
"I don't want to die that bad. Why us?"
"You know as well as I do this thing that's between us. Shit, why did they use us to poison the Mulah when the CIA couldn't do it? It's this ESP thing between us. I don't claim to understand it, but we both know it's there. With the mind powers these things have
--
I have to believe that's why were not dead already. You heard the buzzing in your ears whenever we're near em, the same that I did. We have our own built-in burglar alarm."
"What the hell are we supposed to do on the submarine?"
“If it comes to it—and I don't think it will by the way—kill them before they take it over, or scuttle it.”
"Have you lost your mind!"
"You just realizing that? We just hang out by the hatch and torch them with a flame thrower if they try to get onboard. Piece of cake. By the way, I've got to go up to the coliseum and run security detail. It's some kind of rock concert and rumor is the Apocs are going to be there. You want to go?"
"Shit no!"
"Why, what do you have going?"
"I'm going to spend one of my last days on earth on the beach soaking up some rays." "Oh, the writer's life. I'll see you tomorrow morning bout eight—if not sooner. Oh yeah, Ethan?"
"What Bill?"
"Can you catch the tab for me? I left my wallet in my briefcase."
Bill turned without waiting for Ethan's answer. He winked at the staring waitress on his way out the door.
You're welcome shithead, Ethan thought. He picked up the bill and his keys. Just don't get us killed, OK shithead?
CHAPTER 22
FULL AND NO GIRL
Ethan smiled as he turned his key in his front door lock. I'd rather buy Bill clothes than have to feed him, he thought. He tossed his keys on the breakfast nook and was surprised how cheerful and inviting the room felt. Not only had he left the curtains pulled open, but he had left the patio door open also. The breeze blew in and it smelled fresh and clean. He was never able to figure out if he smelled the salt
air. He remembered reading novels where the old sea dogs longed to breathe in that old sweet smell of the sea. The fragrance was appealing whatever it was. Then he remembered the woman on the beach.
Ethan scoped the seashore noting how the different angle of the sun accentuated the change in the scene. It was deserted compared to earlier. Glancing at his watch he realized his twenty-minute talk with Bill had turned into two hours. He walked out to the bleached wood deck and watched the sun set.
Looks like some clouds starting to move in, he thought. Maybe I can get a walk in before it starts to rain. He went back into the house to change and cursed himself for not walking down to the woman on the beach. He felt like there was some real connection there, but now she was gone forever.
CHAPTER 23
HENRY
After leaving the hospital, Henry caught a bus to Dick Haloran's empty house. Dick must have left in a hurry because the front door was open and the car in the driveway. Henry left a note, found an extra set of keys in the cupboard, and took Dick's car. Henry made it as far as the first roadblock before three policemen turned him back. He tried several of the side streets before giving up on the idea of driving. He pulled over, rested his head on the steering wheel, and thought about his options. His eyes pulled to focus on a storm drain on the residential street.
The sewers, of course!
Henry thought. All these drains all drain into the main line that empties into the bay across from my house. Henry had explored the drains as a kid when they were first installed.
I bet it's been fifty years since I used to play down there. I hope I still fit.
Henry stood over the hulking metal storm grate with trepidation. The brown, rusted metal looked as if it hadn't been moved in years. The eerie sounds of water trickling underneath brought beads of sweat to his forehead. The grate was clogged with leaves, litter, and someone's old tennis shoe. He bent over to peer into the darkness.
Maybe this isn't the best of ideas. Perhaps I should try to skirt my way around the roadblock.
The sounds of men and machines from the direction of the impasse made him quickly forget that notion.
I'll probably get lost down there. Just look at all this junk—I'll likely step in every piece of dog crap ever washed down this drain. Never gonna be able to lift that cover off either. Not going to be able to see down there, better check and see if Dick has a flashlight in his car.
Henry searched the auto with no luck. He realized he was just stalling when he double-checked the trunk. Lifting the carpet cover over the recessed wheel-well he found a single road-flare under the spare tire. It was the kind with the end that came off that you struck against the top to light.
Better save this
, he thought as he closed the trunk and ambled over to the grate;
might need it to get myself out of a jam.