Deadlined

The Mercedes cruised along the roadways as Allison instructed Faulkner on where to make his turns. They entertained the idea of switching to the blackout lights, but the rain would make them all but useless. Speed was their ally right now. Speed meant distance. Time. Safety from the enemy. But Allison couldn’t get rid of the nagging idea in her mind that making the call would pinpoint her location to them. Whoever these “Ashen Dawn” people were, they certainly had that cult-like zeal. They would stop at nothing to get her back. At least it’s nice to know I’m wanted, isn’t it?

“Alright, we’re in town. What next?” Faulkner asked.

“Take a right up here and I’ll tell you when to go left.”

Faulkner pulled up to the end of the street as it curved to the left.

“I don’t think you can turn that way here.”

“Take the fucking right, smartass!”

Allison wanted to hit him. Faulkner was chuckling to himself like he made the funniest joke in the world. She smacked him in the chest. He laughed harder. The truck pulled onto the street and headed down.

“Take the left when I tell you to.”

“Right.”

Allison counted the streets they passed and instructed him to turn onto the fourth one. As the truck pulled around and moved up the street, it came to a sharp incline.

“Is this it?”

Allison rolled the window down and leaned out. There was a tower right in front of them at the top of the hill.

“Oh yeah, this is it. Stay here and keep the engine running.”

“Be quick about it.”

Allison stepped out and slammed the door shut behind her. Her leg moved sluggishly, causing her to limp. But she wouldn’t stop now. She looked at the turnstiles inside. Surely they weren’t in order, right? She pushed. They didn’t budge. She groaned and looked around. The culprit was a chain with a padlock that she promptly shot off with her suppressed pistol after turning the weapon light attached to it on. The turnstile was now free, and Allison moved through it. The tower spiraled upward through flights of stairs. Allison took the pistol and aimed it up, illuminating the staircase above her. She groaned. Of all the times to suffer a leg injury.

Her hand grabbed the railing. Her legs moved onto the steps. She went up, one at a time, keeping her bum leg behind her as support. One hand gripping the railing, the other holding the pistol. She pushed herself. Her body was tired, but the painkillers were working. Well, mostly. It still hurt like hell. A searing sort of pain that came in waves. Just when she thought it was done, it would renew the assault on her nervous system and bring it back again. But now it was more of a nuisance than a debilitation. She moved up the stairs as quickly as she possibly could. The climb was arduous but she made it to the top. She quickly scanned the large observation room and found it empty. A lucky break. Now to do what she needed to do.

Allison took out her AN/PRC-112 radio. It was an old model. A survival radio given to Air Force pilots to use who found themselves shot down behind enemy lines. After the upgrades, they’d been mothballed into storage. Now, they’d been handed down to the demi-machina. Unfortunately, the early models had no GPS receivers, beacons, or any way to connect to overhead satellites. There was no way to track her without old-fashioned triangulation, and she was certain the Ashen Dawn were monitoring the frequencies too. She unfolded the antenna, got up next to a window on the west side of the tower, powered it up, set the frequency, and hit the push-to-talk button.

“Archon, Archon, come in. Over.” She paused and waited a few seconds. No response. “Archon, come in. This is Bushmaster Five, over.” Still nothing but static. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be this easy. It was like ringing a phone, but she was the one doing the ringing instead of the machine. “Archon, this is Bushmaster Five. Come in, over.” Even still, it was starting to get on her nerves as she assumed her position was being triangulated.

“Bushmaster Five, go for Archon.” The radio answered back.

Allison felt a mix of elation and relief, as well as minor bitterness at having to wait this long for an answer. She put the radio up and spoke.

“Archon, this is Bushmaster Five. Mission is Charlie Foxtrot. Currently in escape and evasion situation. Enemy forces in pursuit. Grid reference figures to follow, stand by to copy, over.” Allison said, pulling her map out and putting the light on it.

“Roger Bushmaster Five, Archon standing by. Over.”

“Grid reference: Three Two Uniform, Papa Alpha, One Two Eight Eight Niner, Six Niner Four Five Three. How copy, over?”

“Bushmaster Five, good copy. Continue evasion. Mark down Romeo Victor, prepare to copy over.”

“Roger that, Bushmaster Five is standing by. Over.”

“Bushmaster Five, set RV at Three Two Uniform, November Alpha, Three Zero One Four, Seven Eight Six Six, how copy over?”

“Bushmaster Five copies, over.”

“Bushmaster Five, reach the target area and mark your position for pickup. We’re sending a team out as soon as we can. What’s your ETA?”

Allison checked her watch, looked at the map, did some quick mental math, and made the guess.

“ETA, Two Zero Three Eight. Over.”

“Archon copies. Good luck, Bushmaster Five. We’ll see you there to get you home. Out.”

Allison sighed. The day became a little brighter. She leaned her head against the metal window frame and felt its icy cold touch. Now she just had to get there.

“Bushmaster Five, come in. Over.”

Allison started and looked down at her radio. That wasn’t command. But she knew that no one else could really answer on this frequency.

“Go for Bushmaster Five, over.” She answered, curiosity winning over caution.

“Bushmaster Five, this is Bushmaster Two. Do you read? Over.”

Charlotte? What in the world was she doing on the survival frequencies?

“Two, this is Five. What’s your situation, over?”

“I got jumped after the Charlie Foxtrot. Had to bail. Holed up and waited for them to leave. Oscar Mike to pickup, over.”

Allison wondered if Charlotte had waited until she’d called for it. Whatever her reasons, they were in the same boat now.

“Copy that. We’ll meet you there. Don’t be late, over.”

“Like that’ll happen. Two out.”

Allison put the antenna back down and stowed the radio. She hobbled over to the stairs and gingerly stepped down them. It took a few agonizing minutes, but she reached the ground floor and went out the turnstile.

“We gotta move, Faulkner!” She called.

He was nowhere to be seen. She looked around.

“Faulkner?”

“Yeah yeah, hang on!”

He appeared from around the side of the observation tower and made for the driver’s side door.

“What was that about?”

“I had to go, alright?”

Allison rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“We gotta push out.” She said as they both climbed into the truck.

Faulkner put it into first and rolled ahead.

“Where to, your highness?”

“Loop around in the drive here and head out the way we came. Get onto the main road, follow down past where we turned in off of and take a right. We gotta get onto Highway 279 and take that almost the whole way down.”

“You get through?”

“Yeah and they put our RV point over a hundred klicks out.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, can’t they come full force in and get us? Aren’t you wirewenches supposed to be super important or some shit?”

“I just work here, Faulkner. Drive the truck, truck driver.”

“Bradley driver.”

“Not today you’re not.”

“Where is the RV anyway?”

“A town called Ulmbach. Looks small. Close to Frankfurt. Should be close enough to friendly lines to not have to worry about much of anything. It’s an hour and a half drive there on a normal day so step on it. I got a bullet in my leg and I’m not looking to lose any more blood today.”

“You got it. Just keep us on track.”

“I intend to. One more thing. One of my teammates had to bail out and went and hid for the whole day, presumably while these guys were hunting her down. We’ll be meeting her there too.”

“This just gets better and better.”

“Sure does. It’s never a dull moment around me.”

Faulkner laughed and put the Mercedes down the path Allison laid out. Within a record time, they were on the Highway 279 stretch. Most of the cars were pulled apart. Scavenged and dismantled. That left a lot of open road for them to cross. Faulkner enjoyed putting the truck through its paces while Allison tended to her wound and navigated. It was hard to keep up. She took some caffeine pills and washed them down some water before she opened up her survival ration. She took out one of the four nutrition bars and chowed down on it. Faulkner looked over and she rolled her eyes, handing him one too. Both of them chewed on the dense chocolate flavored bars as the truck moved down the highway.

They passed the time by chatting about each other. About life and their time in the service. What kind of hobbies they had. Faulkner was surprised to learn that despite Allison being a demi-machina, the military afforded her to have a somewhat normal (albeit more structured and disciplined) childhood. There were rumors that they were secretly bred in kill facilities where if you didn't hack it, they shot you on the spot. And that they made them eat dogs after having them take care of it for a few months. All sorts of crazy things that were made up by regular troops to explain how they acted rather off-putting at times. Allison found it rather comical, really. It managed to pass the time and keep her awake. And when they weren’t doing that, they were singing songs.

“Alright how much further.” Faulkner asked after a long period of silence.

Exhaustion was starting to set in.

“It shouldn’t be much further now.” Allison answered, looking at the map. “We head straight up this road and we’re home free.”

Allison looked up. Something in the road caught her attention. She had a brief moment to think. Something hit her mind like a freight train. Ulmbach was inside the current area of operations for clearing. She spotted something that was lodged in between two cars. And for a split second, Allison felt death loom over her. Her eyes widened.

“UXO! UXO! STOP STOP STOP!” She screamed.

Faulkner hit the brakes. At fourth gear and going over fifty miles an hour, it was no use. The tires squealed. Faulkner tried to turn away from it, but smacked it with the edge of the bumper. The UXO, or Unexploded Ordnance, was a leftover cluster munition from a bombing run. It was bright and yellow and showed up well in the headlights, but that didn’t matter when they had been going as fast as they were. It detonated and sent the truck careening off the road in a large explosion. Allison felt the wave knock her out of the truck. She looked up at the night sky as it poured rain onto her. Her ears rang. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her face bled from cuts. She looked down the length of her body and saw the wreck of the Mercedes truck. The engine was on fire and the driver’s side looked torn off.

“Faulkner?” Allison asked.

Nothing. She could barely hear herself, but it was coming back. It was like she was locked in a room filled with water. She tried to stand and her leg seared with pain. She looked down and saw new wounds from the shrapnel, but couldn’t tell how bad it was at first glance. She picked herself up, despite the pain, and moved to the truck. The passenger door was ajar. She reached in and grabbed her pack and the rifle. She looked up and saw Faulkner slumped over the steering wheel. She grabbed him and pulled him over, only to see him bloodied and missing a good section of himself. She gasped and fought the urge to vomit.

“Goddammit, man…fuck. Fuck!”

Allison leaned against the truck and pulled out her radio, unfolding the antenna.

“Two, this is Five. Do you read? Over.”

There was a bit of static as she limped off with her rucksack.

“Two, this is Five. Come in, over!”

“Five, this is Two! You need to hurry! I got a lot of very angry infected trying to bust in and I don’t know how long I can hold out! Over!”

“ON MY WAY, TWO!”

Allison threw the radio into the rucksack and slung it over her shoulder. She checked the rifle. It was beat up, but it still worked. Here she was, busted up with a bum leg, about to serve herself up like a plate of dinner to a bunch of infected. The truck’s fuel tank detonated behind her and sent the Mercedes up in a fireball. She looked at it and then back down the road towards the town. Right now, she was Charlotte’s only hope at getting out of this alive. She gritted her teeth and hauled herself towards the town. Cursing and swearing the whole way. But one thing kept repeating in her head as she moved with an express purpose.

“I’m not gonna lose another teammate. Not this time.”