Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

"What about the West Side?" Trevor meant the collection of boroughs and townships lining Route 11 on the west bank of the Susquehanna.

"That’s going easy. There doesn’t seem to be a lot over there. Must not have been a big enough population to feed all the predators or something."

Trevor solemnly reminded, "Could be that there weren’t a lot of people over there when this started. A lot of them got…got vaporized."

Brewer remembered that Ashley had lived on the West Side. He said nothing.

Trevor forced himself into a lighter mood. "In any case, damn good job. Let’s keep it up. We take Wilkes-Barre before the snow really starts and we’ll be in good shape for the long haul. Got to be a lot of shit in the stores and stuff down there. Don’t forget the police station."

"The armory," Jon referred to the Pennsylvania National Guard’s 109 ^ th Field Artillery armory. It held big guns, fuel supplies, uniforms, medical kits, self-propelled artillery, Humvees, Bradley Fighting Vehicles, and even a few of the advanced Strykers.

"Can we take it?"

"I’m clearing out around it first. Once I know we’re not going to be in the middle of some sort of ambush we’ll move in." Jon cleared his throat and changed the subject: "So, everything is…um… set for tonight. One of Stonewall's guys ran projectors before all this."

"Thanks for, you know, taking care of that. I appreciate it and all. We've been alternating shifts in the Apache all week and haven't had time to, well, see each other, you know."

"Geez, you’d think you were launching a major offensive," Jon joked.

Trevor considered and answered, "You know, I think I am."

– Trevor’s Humvee with a Suburban trailing behind as escort pulled in the parking lot that a week ago had served as the assembly area for the Redcoat army. Parked in that lot sat the four air ships the vanquished aliens left behind.

Trevor spied Omar walking alongside one of the ships as the long shadows of early evening stretched across the pavement. Grenadiers and human sentries stood watch.

"Omar, baby! Whachya got for me?" Trevor beamed.

"Oh, it is so good to be seeing you, Mr. Trevor, Sir!" Omar replied with his sarcasm and forced accent. "I much prefer the company of you and our furry friends to that of my wife and family. Please be sure to be telling my children hello and how are you for me tonight."

Between the power problems, the recovered matter transformation equipment, and the Redcoats’ goodies, Omar had little time for sleep or family. However, one of the Wilkes-Barre survivors had been a physics teacher with a high-tech head on his shoulders. Trevor hoped that, after he regained his strength, the man could help Omar.

Trevor approached the air ship. The landing gear that sprouted from the four corner pods held the main body a few feet above the ground. Both sides of the passenger module had doors with retractable entry ramps. Trevor ascended the starboard ramp and found a series of buttons next to the door. He pushed the largest one and the door slid open revealing a dark compartment.

"You must first be turning on the lights," Omar stated the obvious.

Dr. Nehru found another set of buttons just inside the door. One of them activated light panels built into the ceiling. They flickered to life with sterile illumination-like fluorescent lights-in the gray, black, and white interior. The two men waded in.

Two rows of seats designed for the larger Redcoat bodies ran the length of the passenger module. Storage compartments lined the walls, filled with even more salvageable equipment. At the rear stood a thick door that resembled a watertight bulkhead on a submarine.

"Back there is were the engine is being," Omar pointed. "Very cramped but the engines are very much compact."

To the front waited another door activated by a button on a panel. It led to the cockpit.

The windshield stretched across the front of the cockpit but it was rather thin and restricted visibility. Two big seats sat at control panels beneath the window. The controls on either side appeared identical, no doubt for a pilot and co-pilot. Pedals sprouted from the floor in front of both chairs. Each seat had two tilting armrests with big pistol-grip sticks at the ends. The sticks reminded Stone of manual shifters in a sports car.

For the Redcoats, the space in the pilot’s capsule might have felt a little tight. For a human being, it offered a surprising amount of shoulder, leg and headroom.

"This is going to take some figuring," Trevor, standing between cockpit seats, contemplated while Omar walked off to examine the engine compartment.

Trevor knew he could not ‘pick up’ how to operate the airship. After all, humans had not designed the machine so- He swooned from a sudden bout of light-headedness. The cockpit faded away, replaced by visions…

…visions of a sky dominated by two suns, one slightly larger than the other, beating down on plains of glassy pebbles and mountains of red rocks; of majestic cities built from colorful stones sitting on the banks of massive rivers straddled by gigantic dams; of buildings made to hover above the ground with no support below; of a people dressed in colorful outfits and the trappings of royalty; of ships defying gravity and gliding through the air; of an army of white and red clad soldiers marching in tight rows toward a black and gray archway crackling with bolts of electricity…

…Trevor pinched his nose. The dizziness faded.

He saw the cockpit once again; saw it in a new light.

This is not possible.

– Nina had all the gear the mission required. Her uniform fit perfectly: blue jeans, suede boots, a black sweater and a leather jacket. Of course, she also carried an M4 carbine as well as a side arm. A girl couldn’t be too careful.

Next to her waited Odin the elkhound, who felt as if he might be part of her uniform for he rarely left her side.

Nina checked her watch: 6:10 p.m. Trevor promised to pick her up at six. With a convoy, of course. This would be the best-armed date in the history of mankind. Her father would have approved.

Standing in the driveway outside the A-Frame, she saw Grenadiers walking their rounds as dusk dwindled but no sign of Trevor.

Odin whimpered. She knelt next to the pooch and stroked his head.

"You wouldn’t think he’d keep a hot chick waiting like this, do you?"

Odin grew agitated and searched the sky with his eyes and nose.

Suddenly, one of the boxy Redcoat flying ships swooped overhead, banked, then flew to the end her driveway where it eased to the pavement moving eerily quiet.

Nina pointed her machine gun and cautiously retreated a step.

A ramp extended and the side door slid open. Bright light from the passenger compartment spilled into the twilight.

"Hey, baby!" A familiar voice yelled. "Wanna go for a ride in my mean ma-cheen?"

– Trevor said again. "I shouldn’t be able to do this. I don’t understand how I, how I…"

"How you ‘picked it up’?"

"Yeah."

He flew the ship from the pilot’s seat while Nina sat on the opposite side with her eyes darting around the cockpit. Trevor wore headgear resembling a combination of headphones and goggles and used rubber bands to hold the oversized contraption on his head.

"Well, join the rest of us. Are you ever going to explain how you ‘pick these things up’?"

He dodged the question: "Awe, shucks, ma’am. And take away all the mystery?"

The craft glided effortlessly. It did not feel as if they flew; more as if they rode in a luxury sedan across perfectly smooth pavement.

"I've made an executive decision," he said. "We're going to call these things Eagles. Just like our old national bird."

"Eagles?" The idea struck her as funny. "Not very graceful-looking. More like Volvos, I think; boxy and all."