A Year Underfoot Page 13

  I stood, and without saying a word, she beckoned for me to follow.

  I did so without question.

  She stopped at the end of a great aisle and I sidled up and stood next to her. Her eyes instructed me to look ahead.

  A great three–dimensional aerial map of the western United States appeared before me. It stretched from Denver in the east, to the Pacific Ocean in the west. But, it wasn’t an historical map of how things used to be, it was current, in real time,–it told the tale of now.

  I was able to see the big picture.

  And, it showed that even now, eight months later, gaping wounds in the Earth still smoldered where great cities once stood.

  It showed areas where, at this very moment, the Threak were strip–mining and deforesting at a frantic pace.

  It showed where fires burned unabated and where nuclear power plants, neglected since the invasion, had fallen into jeopardy.

  And, it showed the location of every Threak installation in the western United States.

  I gazed out over the map, and when I turned to ask her a question, she was gone.

  I looked back over the map and it was gone too, but I knew it was embedded in my memory, just as the Threak written language had been. I’d be able to recall it at will.

  March 6th, 2034

  I saw the column of smoke rising from a few miles away and I knew it had to be coming from Ross’ camp. The Threak had beat me there. Was it a coincidence, or had they finally caught up to Ross and his crew? I’m guessing the later. He’d been operating out of the same spot for months, it was inevitable they would roust him eventually. You have to stay mobile, no matter how inconvenient it may be.

  I came up on the south side of the compound and held back in the brush. I scoped the still smoldering scene with my binoculars from half of a mile away and sat still, waiting. They were still around. I could feel it. I smelled Threak. Not literally, but yeah, I smelled Threak.

  My patience paid off. Forty–five minutes later I spotted a trio of troopers moving across the blackened ground.

  I kept the field glasses on the compound and spotted another pod of troopers crossing from the opposite direction. Then another pod of three appeared. The place was crawling with troopers.

  I had to get out of there. I was too close.

  I backed away from my position quietly and carefully. I made slow deliberate movements and kept my head down for a solid quarter mile before I felt comfortable enough to pick up the pace and break out into a light jog.

  I’m hoping my friends saw it coming and fled in time. I’d like to think it’s why the Threak are still at the scene, – they’re waiting for them to return. That has to be it. And, the longer I think on it, the more convinced I am that’s the case. They got out in time, no doubt about it. Ross is a pro, there’s no way the Threak got the drop on him, not out here. Not in his backyard.

  Come morning I’ll see if I can pick up his trail.

  March 8th, 2034

  Two days and thirty–seven miles later and I’m back in the hills above Pyramid Lake, looking down on Interstate 5, just watching the traffic roll by.

  Some things never change.

  I scrounged up a pair of motorcycle batteries on the way down, so now I have my radio up and running and I’m connected to the world once more.

  Hallelujah!

  I fired her up last night and was able to make contact with Ross, and a host of others. Chatter is high regarding the spring “picnic”, and I’ve offered to keep a pair of eyes on the base and check in daily. I’ll do anything to keep the ball rolling. This attack has to happen, and it has to happen soon.

  March 9th, 2034

  The first few drops of an early spring storm sent the Threak indoors this afternoon and allowed me to slip out of the hills and do some reconnaissance along the interstate. I was scouting sites to place roadside bombs when I saw that the Threak were already busy doing an excellent job of destroying the road, and quite possibly their vehicles, themselves.

  Simply put, their transports are heavier than our roads can handle. The concrete is literally crumbling underfoot. I’m guessing in a few months, – three tops, the road will be nothing more than chunks of rubble. And, I’m sure that goes for just about every road, in every country, everywhere else in the world.

  That ought to slow them down.

  March 10th, 2034

  I got on the radio this afternoon and told one and all that not only had I deciphered the Threak’s written language, I had also created a primer translating the hieroglyphs and symbols into english and that I’d be distributing copies shortly.

  My bombshell was met with polite skepticism, but they’ll all find out soon enough I’m on the up and up.

  March 11th, 2034

  I’ve made arrangements with Ross to meet with a courier near Santa Barbara to drop off copies of the language primer I’ve created. The meeting takes place the day after tomorrow, but even though the rendezvous has been arranged by a trusted friend, my gut tells me I’m walking into a trap. I can’t shake the feeling the Threak have been listening in on the 2–way radio traffic and will be lying–in–wait for me.

  March 12th, 2034

  I’ve been hiking north for the past seven hours and I haven’t seen one warbird, not one. The sun is out and there’s not a cloud in the sky. There isn’t any reason the skies would be clear, unless…

  Yep, something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

  March 13th, 2034

  Rather than meet up with the courier, I’ve decided to leave the language primer at a place of my choosing and call in the location after I’ve fled the area.

  Call me paranoid, but sometimes they really are out to get you.

  March 16th, 2034

  I carefully wrapped up the language primer in plastic and buried it at the base of an old oak tree not far from where James Dean crashed his Porsche and lost his life almost ninety years ago. I chose this location, a few hundred yards east of the Highway 41/46 junction, after remembering that Dan Wolfe and I had once talked about using the crash site as a drop spot during one of our visits. It wasn’t too far from either of our locales, – nearly midway, and we could refer to it in the abstract and not have to state the actual location over the airwaves.

  I radioed Dan and told him of the change in plans and let him know where to find the package. He knew exactly what I was talking about and told me not to worry, he’d get word to Ross and they’d take it from there.

  March 18th, 2034

  I got word from Dan Wolfe today that the language primers had been picked up without incident and are currently being copied and distributed all over the country. The crew out of Denver sent word via Alpha Omega One that I have a steak dinner and a hero’s welcome coming to me should I ever make out there and Dan Ross tells me he has a fine Cuban cigar with my name on it. Everyone’s wondering how I “cracked the code”, but that’s going to have to remain my little secret for as long as possible. The last thing I need is for the Threak to find out I’m in contact with the Retratti. I’m sure it would cause them to fly off the handle and step up their efforts tenfold.

  March 19th, 2034

  I’m back in the hills above Malibu, and after a full day of fishing and taking in the fresh ocean air I’m beginning to relax a bit. The past two weeks have been pretty intense and it’s nice to be back on familiar ground where I know the lay of the land and I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from.

  March 20th, 2034

  I’m heading back to the air base tonight. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve laid eyes on the place and with the spring attack just around the corner we’ll need all the fresh intelligence we can gather in order for the raid to succeed. I understand a couple of hundred people will be converging on the installation and it’s my responsibility to make sure they know all there is to know to give them a fighting chance.

  March 20th, 2034

  (second entry)

  According to the w
eather reports coming in over the 2–way radio, a major storm is blowing in from the south and should be here by morning. Not only is the tropical depression expected to drop a couple inches of the wet stuff, but the thunder and lightning its packing promises to be epic as well.

  March 21st, 2034

  It’s been raining heavy all morning and the storm has certainly lived up to the hype. Too bad we weren’t quite ready to attack the air base, this would’ve been the perfect time.

  March 22nd, 2034

  It’s nearing midnight on the 22nd and I’m back in my old haunts up near Pyramid Lake. I have to say, it feels good to be back up here. I’ve set up camp a few miles west of where the cabin once stood and I plan on dropping by tomorrow to pay my respects to Caleb and to see if there’s anything I can salvage. I doubt it, but I do have a little bit of food buried not too far away.

  March 24th, 2034

  I heard a single gunshot echo throughout the hills this morning. I don’t know what to make of it. A hunter? I don’t think so, too close to the air base, and too easily heard. That only leaves a dark alternative. I’ll keep my eyes open, – hoping for the hunter, but ready in case it is the dark alternative.

  March 25th, 2034

  I heard two more gunshots today. It has to be a hunter, one who’s either clueless, or desperate. Doesn’t he know the air base is less than two miles away? I’m tempted to track him, or her, down and offer what little food I have, just as long as they promise to move on! The last thing I need is for the troopers to start crawling through these hills looking for the source. If it happens again tomorrow I’m going to have to act.

  March 26th, 2034

  More gunfire echoed throughout the hills this morning and I wasn’t the only one who heard it. A few minutes later a trio of warbirds made a low pass over the western edge of the base and hung in the air over the low–lying hills to the northwest of the base. An hour later I spotted three troop transports on the ridge overlooking the lake and they’ve been sitting up there ever since.

  I can’t stay here. It’s too hot. I’m heading back over to the coast until this all blows over. If I can’t keep an eye on the air base, I might as well try and catch some fish.

  March 28th, 2034

  I missed my calling, I should’ve been a fisherman. I caught nine rock cod this morning and another five this afternoon.

  March 29th, 2034

  I’m heading back over the hill this evening to keep an eye on the air base. I got the word from the crew up north last night, – the “picnic” is on. The plan is to attack during the next major storm, and the fact that we’re experiencing a rainy El Nino weather cycle means we shouldn’t have to wait too long. In fact, the weather gurus are confident the next big storm will roll through late next week, and not a moment too soon. The fuzzies have had it too easy for too long and it’s time we gave them a dose of their own medicine.

  Time to break out my blaster.

  March 30th, 2034

  There’s a meeting taking place in Maricopa the day after tomorrow where the final details of the attack are being ironed out. As much as I’d like to be there and put in my two cents, I think it’s best I stay here and continue monitoring the air base until the raid goes down.

  March 31st, 2034

  Maricopa is in flames.

  The Threak incinerated the small town early this afternoon.

  I’m afraid there may be a traitor in our midst.

  April 2nd, 2034

  I finally got a hold of Ross last night. He assured me the “picnic” is still on despite the attack on Maricopa, which he laughed off as a classic case of bait and switch. He couldn’t elaborate over the airwaves, but I believe I’ve figured it out just the same.

  There never was a meeting in Maricopa.

  It was simply a ruse to find out once and for all if the Threak were monitoring our radio chatter as many of us had long suspected, and, bless their fuzzy little faces, they took the bait, – hook, line and sinker and confirmed our suspicions.

  Unfortunately, it took sacrificing the town of Maricopa to do so.

  Now that we know for certain the Threak are listening in, the strategic planting of disinformation has begun. Alpha Omega One has been on the air all day long delivering fake news reports regarding the “devastating strike” on Maricopa, and how the leadership of the western resistance movement had been killed in the process. He wonders aloud if we’ll ever recover and calls it, “our darkest day since the invasion”.

  Man, is he laying it on thick. Great stuff. I’ve always been a fan of good fiction, and it just doesn’t get any better than this.

  April 6th, 2034

  I woke this morning to a warm tropical breeze and knew right away that the rainstorm we’d all been waiting for was finally on its way. I kept a keen eye on the southern skies and after I’d spotted the first of the puffy gray rain clouds rolling in I made a quick run back to Lake Pyramid to pick up the Threak blaster I’d buried there a few weeks back. With the attack on the air base coming down in the next twenty–four to forty–eight hours there was no way I was showing up to the party without it.

  I was back in the hills above the air base by mid–afternoon and by early evening the skies overhead were darkening and I could feel the moisture growing heavy in the air.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  April 10th, 2034

  We attacked the alien air base before sunrise on the 7th and I’m happy to report the “picnic” was a success. In a driving rainstorm, two hundred like–minded survivors descended upon the facility with the sole purpose of wreaking as much havoc as possible, – and with the Threak hunkered down inside, we were able to do just that.

  The ball got rolling when Dan Ross led a swarm of fifty angry men out of the southeastern foothills and had them set up shop on the eastern edge of the air base. Using improvised mortar launchers and handmade explosives, they targeted the hangars and warehouses along the flight line and were soon dropping round after round into the air base with pinpoint accuracy. Their handcrafted shells tore through the alien structures with ease, – touching off a series of fires that would soon spread from building to building.

  While Ross and his crew handled their business, I went after the power grid, unveiling my Threak blaster for the first time. All eyes were on me as I calmly walked up to the three dome–shaped power cells looming in the darkness and pulled the trigger of my pride and joy, and let me tell you, she did not disappoint, – not in the least.

  The supercharged round burned through the center of the largest of the three power cells, triggering a chain of explosions that were as spectacular as any Fourth of July fireworks display could ever hope to be. Sparks flew as our spirits soared, and as the gloomy night turned brighter than high noon on a hot summer’s day, a rebel yell rose up from our ranks and filled the night.

  I raised a fist in triumph, but my celebration was cut short when a searing blast of charged matter washed over me. I buried my face in my hands to escape the onslaught, but it was too late. My face and hands began to sting and swell, and as I chided myself for standing too close to blast, I looked up at the sky and let the cold, falling rain soothe and satiate my flash–burned skin. Almost immediately, the pain dulled and disappeared and when the swelling began to subside, I let out a huge sigh of relief and thanked my lucky stars I hadn’t been standing any closer.

  With the power cells destroyed and the base on life support, I took a second to admire my handiwork before moving on to my secondary target, – a squadron of warbirds lined up wing to wing along the base’s northern border.

  I had a thousand yards to cover before the sleek black fighters would fall within range of the blaster and I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. The attack was already beginning to wind down and it wouldn’t be long before the Threak began to stir. I ran across the saturated field, stealing glimpses of the burning base all the while, and when the warbirds finally came within range I dropped to one knee and took aim.

  As I
was about to pull the trigger, the unmistakable drone of a World War Two era air raid siren cut through the darkness signaling the end of the raid and the beginning of our retreat. And, as my compatriots broke off the attack and took to the hills, I squeezed off a couple dozen rounds in the direction of the warbirds and hoped they’d hit their mark.

  When it was all said and done, we’d spent less than a half of an hour attacking the air base, inflicting more damage than we’d ever thought possible. By the time the Threak poked their fuzzy heads out to have a look, we were long gone, but we’d left a burning base as our calling card to let them know we’d dropped by.

  Definitely, a good day!

  April 12th, 2034

  I’ve set myself up in the hills above Malibu. I’ve spent the past few days fishing and laying low. I’m not feeling all that great, tired I guess. It has been a busy few months.

  The warbirds have been out in force since the weather’s cleared and I’ve spotted more than a few armored assault vehicles racing up and down the PCH. I’m sure it’s the same everywhere. I’d say, judging by their overarching response to the raid, we really rattled their cage.

  Good deal.

  I’ll know more when I fire up the radio on the 19th and check in.

  April 12th, 2034

  (second entry)

  I’ve had a piercing headache for a day and a half and my face and hands are itching something fierce.

  I can’t shake it. Even my eyes hurt. This is not normal. Something is wrong.

  April 13th, 2034

  My face and hands have swelled once more and my skin is blistering. It has to be a reaction to the power cells exploding in my face.

  I may have just killed me.

  April 13th, 2034

  (second entry)

  The blisters on my face and hands have burst and are bleeding. I’m a total mess. I’m nauseous, and when I do throw up, I have nothing to show for it. I’m tearing myself apart from the inside.

  I’m dying. I can feel it.

  Radiation poisoning. It’s all I can think of.