James Hunt - GMO 24 - The Coalition

The farm camp was in chaos when Gordon arrived. He bulldozed his way to the front office to meet Dean Grout, who had already arrived to investigate the matter.

“They’re all dead?” Gordon asked.

“Every last sentry. I’m not surprised. The camps on the outskirts have gotten lazy,” Dean answered.

“And we still haven’t found Alex?”

“Not yet, but the camp that was attacked was due north of where we lost him in the woods. I’m betting he was behind it, along with taking the kid.”

“What kid?”

“An orphan assigned to Alex’s housing unit. During the blood sampling a few days ago, he was pulled out for having high nutrition levels.”

Gordon stopped. “He came back for the kid?”

“Yeah. The OIC said he came in here dressed like a sentry, faking a transfer to the camp he decimated.”

“I want a unit of men stationed at his community and another unit watching the woods. That’s where he’s headed. And that’s where we’ll hit him.”

“If we find him, do you want him alive?”

“Yes. And bring me Sydney.”

Gordon’s phone buzzed. It was Jake. “Where the hell are you?”

“He’s not talking,” Jake said. “You want me to bring him in?”

“No. I want the diamond mine, not the diamond.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Give them some breathing room. Make them feel comfortable. I think I have another way to get it. And I need you here, now. We have a situation.”

The shackles around Sydney’s wrists provided a foreign pain. The unforgiving metal provided no comfort against his bones and tore his flesh. For the first time in his life, he wanted his father. The door that sealed him in his cage creaked upon Gordon opening it, accompanied by Jake.

“So you’re the one who tampered with the samples,” Jake said.

“Look, I can give you the original results. I still have them. I can show you what they’re doing, what they’ve done.”

“We already know what they’re doing,” Gordon said. “We just need to find it.”

“Well, now you have the authority to do it. Everyone in that community had high nutrition levels. One man in particular. I can give him to you.”

“You might be able to give him to me,” Gordon said, “but you can’t give me the work he’s done.”

Sydney wept. Snot and tears dribbled down his face. “P-please. I c-can try. Or you can just force him to give it to you. You can make him.”

“This guy isn’t going to let anyone force him into anything,” Jake said.

“If you get enough of the research that he’s done to create the soil, can you replicate it?”

“Y-yes. If I h-had his original work, I could do it. Right now there’s just too many holes, too many variables. But if I had enough of it, then I could finish it. I could solve it,” Sydney answered.

“For your sake, Sydney, I hope you can,” Gordon said.

Every time Warren took any type of deep breath, he could feel a sharp pain emanating through his entire body from a single point on his side. A gurgling sounded deep within his chest and was followed by a violent hacking of spit and blood over his hand and chin as he attempted to cover his mouth.

The hot liquid burned the back of his throat and mouth. He could taste his own death, the warm, metallic flavor of blood. He tried pushing himself to his side, but his collarbone was broken, and any attempt to move at all was stopped short by the pain that now controlled him.

Aside from his own feet and the dead bodies around him, the only other sight in his field of vision was the road leading up to the cul-de-sac. Since Gordon left, there hadn’t been a single person who’d come or gone. The sentries around him circled like buzzards, seeking the carrion buffet at their feet. From what comments Warren could hear, it sounded like Alex was still giving them trouble.

“Hey, how much longer are we going to have to sit here?” a Class One sentry asked.

“For as long as we’re ordered to. Now shut up,” a Class Two sentry replied.

“I’m just saying we could waste the rest of these meat sacks and then go home. Whoever this guy is they’re chasing isn’t coming back here.”

“That’s not what the boss thinks.”

“Why the hell would he come back? For these people? Psh,” Class One said, waving his hand. “I’d let ’em rot.”

The two sentries continued their mumbling but walked too far away for Warren to continue his eavesdropping. Is Alex still counting on using the seeds in exchange for what he’s done? Gordon wasn’t going to let Alex off without his life and perhaps the life of everyone else in the community.

Another violent gurgle and spit of blood erupted from Warren’s mouth. His body jerked and twisted on the ground. It wouldn’t be much longer. The only question that remained unanswered was if he was going to die from his injuries or a bullet to the head.

Machine gun fire blasted behind the truck’s armor-plated siding. Its protection wasn’t going to last much longer. The back window was so shattered and riddled with cracks that Alex couldn’t see how many sentries were in pursuit. Both of his side mirrors had been blown off, and he could feel the engine straining to keep up the hurried pace. Alex kept his foot floored on the accelerator. They were so close to the woods.

“This was a bad idea,” Meeko said, trying to keep himself from falling out of his seat from the swerving, jerking ride, even with his seatbelt on.

“Oh, and would you have liked me to just leave you there?”

“You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

“And you don’t have to be so ungrateful, punk.”

An explosion of shattered glass signaled the final blow to the rear window, sending some of the shards over the backs of both Alex and Meeko as they ducked. With their back side now exposed, the bullets started peppering the truck’s back row of seats.

“Yeah!” Meeko said. “This is SO much better than the farm camp!”

Alex swerved left and right, giving the sentries a moving target. The front windshield was cracked, but through the broken lines, Alex could see the cluster of dead trees.

“We’re almost there!” Alex yelled.

The boom of gunshots echoed louder now that the rear window was gone, and when another volley of bullets came speeding their way, Alex felt a hot, singeing pain strike his right shoulder. His entire right arm went slack, and before Meeko could scream, the wheel slipped out of Alex’s left hand, and the truck barrel-rolled. It toppled end over end, spraying dirt and glass into the air. Pieces of metal and bits of the undercarriage flung wildly into the sky. The high speed rolled the truck half a dozen times before it finally came to a stop upside down.

The seatbelt drew tight across Alex’s waist as he hung in midair. His right arm was slick with blood that flowed in random patterns down to his fingertips then dripped onto the truck’s ceiling below him. His head throbbed. “Meeko?” He gathered his bearings and finally managed to get a good look at Meeko in the seat next to him. The boy was out of his seatbelt, lying sprawled out on the truck’s ceiling. “Meeko!” Alex couldn’t tell if the boy was breathing or not. His arms and legs were cut up pretty badly, and there was no telling whose blood was whose.

Outside the flipped truck, tires skidded to a halt, and the shouts accompanying the harsh voices snapped Alex back to the situation at hand. The AR-15 he kept was nestled next to Meeko’s lifeless body. He reached for it, his fingertips barely close enough to grab the strap. But by the time he had a good grip on the rifle, the sentries had cracked the door open with a crowbar and yanked him out of the truck.