Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“Six hundred and fifty feet to the right front corner of the boathouse. I have no hostiles in sight. Can I get an IR mark?” said the spotter.

“I don’t know if it’s worth it,” said Baker, turning to Alex. “They can see the mark across the river. We’ll start taking fire.”

A snap passed overhead.

“Already taking fire,” said the spotter.

“Surprise, surprise,” said Baker. “Ramsey, send Raider Two-One. We’ll mark the targets for them. Fletcher, I’m going to guide your IR laser onto the group hiding by the river.”

Alex rose above the top of the balcony wall and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the concrete. Two successive snaps passed nearby, causing him to flinch.

“Nowhere close,” said Baker.

“Sounded close enough,” said Alex.

The spotter next to him said, “If you hear it go by, you’re good to go.”

“Funny,” muttered Alex, triggering his IR laser.

“Left and down—bring it back a little to the right—down a little—little more. Hold that,” Baker directed. “You guys got anything at that mark?”

“Affirmative. Movement along the riverbank, heading away from the boathouse. Range seven-five-zero feet, estimated. Too much foliage down there. Marking targets,” said the spotter.

A second green laser reached out from the balcony. The M40A6 rifle barked, drowning out the sound of the JLTV’s roaring diesel engine.

“Hit. Range eight-zero-zero.”

The rifle thundered again, and all hell broke loose on Memorial Drive. The M240G machine gun mounted to the JLTV’s turret fired an extended burst at the terminal point of the IR lasers. Red tracers streamed into the darkness, briefly illuminating the bushes, before ricocheting skyward across the river. The vehicle crept forward, mercilessly hammering the riverbank. The sniper rifle cracked. Adrenaline surged, and Alex’s breathing shallowed. His thumb touched the safety and his index finger caressed the trigger. A few muscle twitches and he could put some rounds downrange.

Nothing good would come of it.

“I see one hostile on the move. Headed toward the rail bridge,” said Baker. “The rest are down. No movement. Ramsey, have Raider Two-One deploy their fire team to confirm five KIA. We don’t need any surprises.”

“Got it, sir,” replied one of the marines by the radios at the back of the patio.

“We’ll mop this up and get you on—” said Baker, interrupted by a long burst from the M240G machine gun.

“Raider Two-One confirms hits to a single hostile trying to climb over the fence at the rail bridge,” said Ramsey.

A sharp crack dropped all of the marines to the patio tile.

“That’s what we call close,” said the spotter.

Captain Baker slowly raised his head back above the balcony wall. A distant metallic ping sounded from Memorial Drive.

“JLTV is taking accurate fire,” said Sergeant Ramsey from the back patio wall.

“Roger. Get Raider Two-One back to the staging area,” replied Baker, reaching out to grab the spotter’s arm.

“Set up inside again. I want you to find whoever is putting those rounds out. Sooner or later, they’re gonna get lucky.”

“Roger that, sir. Hey, is there any way our guy here might be willing to leave the thermal scope behind? Sure make our job a lot easier,” said the sniper.

“I’ll trade it for some sniper coverage on my way out,” said Alex.

“You headed somewhere?”

“You’ve seen the three identical buildings across the river?” asked Alex.

“Yes. Stacked up like dominoes. Fourteen stories each. One thousand, four hundred and thirty eight feet to the right corner of the rightmost building.”

“My son lives on the sixth floor of the leftmost building. Room 622. Faces the middle building. I’m getting him out of there,” said Alex.

“You’re not serious,” said the spotter, picking up his scope.

“Deadly serious. We got a deal?”

“I can cover you up to Storrow Drive, unless Battalion is willing to break out the fifties,” said the sniper.

“Lieutenant Colonel Grady won’t bend on that,” said Baker.

“Not yet,” said the sniper.

“Your .308 will work fine. I just want to avoid a riverside welcoming committee.”

“We’ll use the thermal scope to find any pickets along the waterfront. My guys will clear a path. We’ll also mark any other hostiles with IR laser. Steer you away from any bigger groups. Once you disappear behind the first row of buildings, it’s you and that rifle.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

EVENT +45:28 Hours

Hyatt Regency

Cambridge, Massachusetts

“You ready, boss?” Corporal Rodriguez inquired.

“Let’s do it,” said Alex, taking a deep breath.

Rodriguez rose from a crouch and walked toward the sliding glass doors at the edge of the lobby. The closed doors led to a moonlit breezeway connecting the hotel to the parking garage, where they could access the rear patio and emerge on the western edge of the hotel. The marine produced a set of keys and unlocked the sliding doors, muscling them far enough apart for them to squeeze through. He tossed the keys to a marine standing next to Alex.

“Coming back the same way,” said Rodriguez.

Alex looked surprised. “He’s not coming too?”

“We can only spare one babysitter for this,” said Rodriguez. “Piece of cake.”

“If you say so,” said Alex.

He plodded through the thick mud that had overwhelmed the entire lobby level of the hotel, feeling the crunch of broken glass between his boots and the marble floor. Like all of the buildings they’d passed on the ride down, most of the Regency’s windows had either imploded from the air blast or were shattered from the seismic shock. He squeezed through the door and joined Rodriguez in the muck-filled breezeway.

The marine lowered his NVGs and stepped through one of the shattered panes onto the back patio. Alex did the same, trying to step in the deep impressions left by Rodriguez’s boots. They plodded through the middle of the tables and collapsed umbrellas, pushing aside wrought-iron chairs to reach a tall stucco wall beyond a row of bushes.

Spanning the distance between the hotel and the parking garage, the wall formed the western boundary of the hotel. Rodriguez stood next to the wall and interlocked his fingers. Beyond the wall, an office building loomed, its few remaining windows reflecting bright green flashes of moonlight in his NVGs.

“You first. Check the other side for crazies before lifting me up,” said Rodriguez.

“I know the drill,” said Alex.

“Just checking. Been a while, right?”

“Sixteen years, but I feel it all coming back. Check the bottom of my boots for broken glass,” he said, lifting each foot for the marine.

“Good to go,” he said, taking Alex’s rifle.

Alex stepped onto his locked hands and launched upward, straddling the stucco wall. He made a quick assessment of the dark green shadows on the other side of the wall, seeing nothing out of place. A sea of mud separated the wall from the adjacent building. He reached down with his left hand and pulled Rodriguez up the wall.

“Just like the good ole days,” said Alex, taking his rifle back from Rodriguez.

“Not bad for an old man.”

Alex dropped to the mud, sinking to his knees. He scanned in both directions with his rifle and pulled his right leg out of the seaweed-encrusted mire with a slow sucking sound. Rodriguez thudded next to him and muttered a few obscenities.

“It’s not that bad once you break out of the impact crater,” whispered Alex.

“This is some serious-ass bullshit,” said Rodriguez.