Steven Konkoly - Event Horizon

Grady considered him for a moment and nodded slowly. “Alex, I really appreciate you doing this—on top of everything you’ve already done for the battalion. Our reunion here was providence. I’m sure of it.”

“If not, it’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Too big for that. I’ll see you in a few,” said Grady, walking toward the operations table.

“Colonel Grady?”

The battalion commander looked back.

“Does Homeland have a file on me?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s just say that activating your ID will be a one-click evolution,” said Grady.

“I didn’t give you my information yet.”

“Like I said,” he smiled and knelt next to a monitor displaying a map overlay of Boston.

“Captain Fletcher,” said a young marine from the left side of the tent. “You can sneak out the back door. Head right to supply in Harvard Hall. Your family will be there shortly.”

Nausea hit him in a sudden, quickly passing wave. Homeland Security’s omnipresent hand felt suddenly oppressive. The government’s level of knowledge about everything and everyone was disturbing. Alex wondered what might have happened if he had refused Grady’s offer. Would Homeland have changed his status and paid him a visit in Limerick? Did their banter about favors have more meaning than Alex realized? Maybe the choice had never truly been his to make.

Providence, my ass.

EVENT +59:42

Middlesex Fells Reservation

Medford, Massachusetts

Even the windshield wipers worked surprisingly well in the Matvee. He’d imagined the same shitted-up, blurry ride he’d experienced with the venerable Humvee, but everything about the Oshkosh Defense’s M-ATV sang the words “major improvement.” Visibility through the tiny bullet-resistant side windows sucked, but that shortcoming was more than compensated for by the small arms and IED impregnable armor design. He felt secure inside the tactical vehicle and wished he could convince himself to leave the Jeep behind. He pointed at the granite sign marking the entrance to the reservation’s lower parking lot.

“Take a left at that sign.”

The corporal driving hit the tactical vehicle’s siren, which sounded like a police car, while the marine in the turret yelled at the thick stream of refugees blocking the entrance. They had stopped using the horn twenty minutes ago. The trip had been stop and go most of the way from Harvard Square, rarely exceeding fifteen miles per hour. News of the battalion’s evacuation spread quickly, prompting a large percentage of the civilian holdouts in the areas surrounding Cambridge to take flight. Perceptions ruled the day. The past twenty-four hours had been marked by frightening exchanges of distant and nearby gunfire. With the marines gone and the bridges unguarded, Cambridge was now vulnerable to the threat south of the Charles River.

The convoy cleared the crowd and slowed in front of the concrete underpass.

“We gonna clear that, Barry?” yelled the driver.

“Good to go!” said the turret gunner, sticking a thumbs-up through the hatch into the cabin.

The corporal eased the Matvee under the train trestle and roared forward toward the main parking lot. A few seconds later, Alex stopped him.

“I think this is it. Chandler Road.”

“Not much of a road, sir,” he said, pulling the left side of the vehicle as close to the trail marker as possible. “Confirmed. Chandler Road. Is there room to maneuver in there?”

“It’s not worth getting one of your vehicles stuck. The Jeep is a half mile away. I can walk it,” said Alex.

“Your guy can’t drive it out, sir?”

“We moved a few downed trees across the path. It’ll take two of us to move them,” he said, glancing back at Ed in the rear driver’s-side seat.

Rain poured through the open turret hatch, soaking both the rear passenger seats. Ed raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Ryan and Chloe sat jammed in the rear troop compartment.

“Kids, I’m headed out to grab Uncle Charlie and our Jeep. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

Ryan nodded, still wiped out by the painkillers.

Chloe smiled wearily, looking a little more like the joyful, carefree young woman he remembered. The further they drove from Boston, the more she emerged from the mental barrier she’d constructed at the North Beacon Street Bridge. Alex knew from experience that she would never fully step out from behind the wall, but given enough time and compassionate support, few would notice. He returned the smile before activating his handheld radio.

“Durham One-Seven, this is Durham Three-Zero, over.”

“This is One-Seven. Solid copy.”

“I’m coming in on foot. Tactical vehicles won’t fit down the trail. Meet me at the first obstacle with the Jeep. How copy?”

“ Oh, man. What are we talking about here? M-ATV? Fully armored troop carrier variant? It’s an M-ATV, right?” squawked the radio.

Alex winked at Ed. “I brought two of them, my friend,” he said to Charlie.

Prolonged static filled the cabin.

“One Seven, you still there?”

“You’re gonna make me drive the Jeep back, aren’t you?”

“How could I deprive you of this? You’ve earned it. The marines will stick you in one of the turrets, if you don’t mind the rain—and promise to keep your hands behind your back.”

“Holy shit! Are you serious? In the turret? What kind of firepower are we talking? Is there somewhere to sit, or do I have to stand the whole time?”

“One Zero, we’ll work out the details when we get back. I’m starting my trek into the reservation. See you in a few minutes. Out,” said Alex, turning off the radio. “You think the staff sergeant will let him in one of the turrets?” he asked the corporal.

Corporal Gibson shrugged his shoulders. “It’s up to you, Captain. He sounds a bit excitable.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Alex. He’ll drive the staff sergeant crazy,” said Ed.

“I wasn’t going to put him in the rear vehicle,” said Alex.

“What? No wonder you’re so excited to drive the Jeep. Forget it. It’s my Jeep. I get to drive it to—”

“With all due respect, sir, one of the marines in the rear vehicle will drive the Jeep,” said Corporal Gibson. “Based on the current conversation, I’d feel more comfortable if both of you were present when Durham One-Zero steps into the turret.”

“Apparently, Corporal Gibson is far more savvy than he appears,” said Alex. “Let the staff sergeant know we’ll need one of his marines to drive the Jeep back to Maine.”

“My pleasure, sir. Truly my pleasure.”

EVENT +60:04

Limerick, Maine

An unfamiliar digital tone resonated from the kitchen. Kate walked out of the steamy dining room and looked around, unable to identify the source of the sound. Her stomach knotted. More visitors? Maybe today’s law enforcement visit had been legitimate. She hesitated, not wanting to leave Emily alone in the surveillance hub. The two “deputies” had triggered one of the sensors on their way back to the road, but they had agreed to monitor the room 24/7. Tim Fletcher bolted through the sitting room doorway next to the intercom station and saw where Kate was headed.

“That’s the satellite phone,” he blurted. “It’s charging next to the coffee maker.”

“Is that the satphone?” yelled Samantha from the great room to Kate’s left.