Anthony DeCosmo - Parallels

She stopped her speech with a grunt that said take that.

Evan waited to be sure she had finished. When she said nothing more, he spoke.

"Trevor Stone is gone? Sharon, oh Sharon, is he really gone? I don’t think we can be quite so sure of that yet. You see, I’ve known Trevor for a long time and there’s one thing I’ve learned; never underestimate him. It's quite possible that he’s in hiding waiting to see who moves against him. I would not put that past him. That's what I’d do."

She looked as if she wanted to speak and he knew what she would say: You’re afraid.

Again held a finger to her lips.

"Before you say it, remember that your father underestimated Trevor Stone, and where did it get him? Hmm? No, I think it is best to move slowly, with caution. Let others be the first to storm the Bastille. If Stone is gone for good, then eventually the mob will need a leader. If he returns to clean house, then all those who would challenge him will be knocked from their perches. Well… almost all."

"So you’re going to do nothing?"

"No," he twirled his racquet again. "I’m going to play tennis at the health club."

She spat, "Tennis."

He paused at the front door and glanced out the window. His motorcade waited: a big armored limousine and two Internal Security escorts on hover bikes.

"Yes. I’m going to play tennis. Doubles in fact. Doubles with the Captain of the Washington garrison, one of Jim Hutch’s top men in the labor guild, and the Director of the company that services all the military’s telecommunications."

Godfrey smiled to his wife then walked out the door.

He had a match to play.

– Stonewall McAllister pushed his steed at a fast, anxious gallop across an open field with a dozen riders from his command post following including Captain Kristy Kaufman, dressed in a stylish bomber jacket and riding boots.

She maneuvered her horse closer to his and shouted over the sound of drumming horse hooves, "Still no contact from the depot, General!"

Kristy referred to the supply depot at Ft. Campbell. No one had heard from or received re-supply from the depot in over twenty-four hours.

Fortunately, Army Group Center had not encountered any enemy armies during their sweep of western Kentucky and Tennessee. Operations remained of a "rural and urban pacification" nature, a job they had performed successfully in places such as Murfreesboro, Bowling Green, Nashville and Hopkinsville.

Nonetheless, the soldiers required food, rifles needed bullets, and vehicles ran dry if not fueled. Even a brief interruption of supply created difficulties, but the lack of communication turned the situation from curious to alarming.

In addition to his army, Stonewall's responsibilities included thousands of humans found in isolated camps and villages uncovered during the trek through the Smokey Mountains. The topography of that part of the world had been hospitable to human survivors in that it provided good cover and defendable positions.

Those survivors embraced the expanding Empire, particularly when penicillin and antibiotics rolled into town. But those medicines and more could not roll into town if the supply depot at Ft. Campbell-pre-war home of the 101 ^ st "Screaming Eagles"- did not answer their radio.

It irked the General to an even greater degree that he believed that the problem most likely lay not with an alien attack, but negligence. Ft. Campbell’s operation depended on Internal Security because the supply depot there was not purely military in nature; it had been established to service population centers in Clarksville and Oak Grove.

At the time of its opening, the idea of using I.S. to staff the depot sounded good because it freed Army Group Center's logistical people for other duties, a decision he now regretted.

From what Stonewall saw in recent weeks, Internal Security lost their focus; their drive. The glue that was Trevor Stone was losing its adhesion, and the I.S. branch appeared to be the first part to peel away from the whole.

A four-lane road surrounded on both sides by muddy grass and slightly-frosted barrier trees led into Fort Campbell. As it approached the base, the road split off leaving a big, triangle-shaped yard lined with shrubs to welcome newcomers. At the far end of that yard stood a large, three story white building with a parking lot.

Stonewall’s cavalry stopped at the tip of that triangle. Garret McAllister dismounted and retrieved his field glasses. The rest of the troop readied their carbines and waited for orders.

The white building that served as the heart of the supply depot was surrounded. Several of the vehicles in the parking lot had been stomped and smashed. What worried Stonewall was that those cars were not leftovers from the early days of Armageddon; they were military Humvees and cargo trucks.

"The depot is not deserted," he reported. "I note movement inside the building. Getting to them, however, may prove difficult."

Stonewall referred to the six extraterrestrial monsters besieging the compound. They resembled armadillos the size of cement trucks with nasty snouts like crocodile jaws. A protective shell covered their bodies and spiked balls hung at the end of long tails.

Kristy Kaufman said, "If I may quote the General, sir, you did say this would only be a 'quick ride' to the depot to 'set those idiots straight'. Therefore, sir, we failed to bring along any anti-armor weaponry."

"Yes, Captain Kaufman, those words are mine," in a whisper he continued, "much to my regret." His voice rose again and he told her to, "consult our radio and see what assets might be lurking about."

One of the creatures smashed yet another hole in another wall with its wrecking-ball like tail. A second stood on its hind legs and took several steps toward the building and tried to bite a second-floor window.

Beyond the Armored Mammoths, Stonewall spotted several fatigue-wearing persons daring looks out the window. He then swept his binoculars across the parking lot, examining the vehicles crushed by the creatures. He shared an observation with everyone in earshot, "That explains how we came to this point. I do not discern a single Internal Security vehicle among the wreckage."

Kaufman continued a radio conversation she had started a moment ago on the General's orders, "Understood, standing by," and then said to McAllister, "I.S. pull out?"

"Apparently so," he responded. "No doubt absconding with their supply of heavy weapons, leaving behind clerical staff and accountants with small arms."

"That's desertion, sir. They should be hung," Kaufman answered but a voice on the radio pulled her attention away.

Stonewall spoke as much to himself as anyone else, "Desertion? That is a word nearly unheard of in recent years. But these are not normal circumstances. I fear a dangerous divide is growing between the military and Internal Security, given the current political climate."

Kaufman broke in with good news, "Today must be our lucky day, General."

Stonewall mused, "I was certain I had used up my allotment of lucky days in Georgia last year. Do tell, Captain."

"T-A-C is directing an AC-130 our way. Puff is on his way back from knocking out a nest of Spider Ants outside of Roaring Spring."

"Splendid! See if Puff the Magic Dragon would be so kind as to hunt down and blast our fleeing Internal Security agents. No doubt they are somewhere east of here on 71."

"I assume that is a jest, General."

"I would hope so, yes, but we will see how things develop in the days ahead."

Fifteen minutes later, a large plane circled overhead, its engines creating a sound like thunder filling the sky and nearly shaking the ground. The AC-130 Specter Gunship banked hard and opened fire from the heavy cannon stationed in its side. The shells did to the Mammoths what they had done in the old world to tanks and armored vehicles; ripped them to shreds, while leaving the building untouched.