Chapter 1
As the screen went black, flattened out, and retracted, the drone settled into its cradle. At the base of the drone, the feet withdrew and Hawkeye powered down.
Ben shut his com, slid it into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette. It was a little after 10 PM and as he took a long draw on his cigarette, the only thing Ben could hear was one solitary cricket. Ben, six foot tall with blue eyes and short grey hair, was dressed in his basic dark green uniform, his shirt unbuttoned revealing a white t-shirt.
His unit was stuck behind approximately seventy-five unknowns who seemingly appeared out of nowhere as Ben’s unit circled back to base.
So, instead of being in the barracks relaxing, his unit stayed out on patrol and was now camped in a wooded area off the main path. Until this unfortunate situation, nothing much had happened and the patrol had remained problem free.
Who were these seventy-five unknowns? Insurgents? The MFA? Ben was unsure but not worried. Mom was out on patrol. She’d let us know if there were any problems.
The other members of the patrol were asleep. In security mode, the ADs sat in various positions located around the camp’s perimeter. Among the human patrol members, Ben would be on watch until four, then he’d wake Eddie for his turn. He’d probably send up Hawkeye one more time before then.
Whoever these unknowns were, their movements were odd. Usually insurgents wouldn’t camp out like these guys. Maybe they were scouts or hunters. However, evidence Ben had seen from the assist device, Hawkeye, led him to believe they were unlikely to be boy scouts or any similar group. Nor did they seem like any hunters he’d ever seen. They had no discernible guns that he could see using Hawkeye, and insurgents always had guns and, of course, so would hunters.
The size of the group confused Ben. Normally, such groups were small. It didn’t really matter because whoever they were, they were violating curfew. That many people all violating curfew and they were up to no good? Hopefully they’d be packed up and gone by morning. The last thing Ben wanted to do was screw up and kill innocent civilians.
He pulled out another cig and lit it up. It would probably be his last until dawn or at least he’d hoped.
Ben had signed up six months earlier right after graduation. He didn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t enlisted. His grades were mediocre at best and his ambitions were limited to high scorer on Damage and cruising for women down at Polly’s. The Army seemed as good a job as any and at least they had health care which Ben didn’t really care about except in some sort of abstract sense.
His real reason for signing up was his secret love all the high tech gadgets that came with the job. Of course, his publicly stated reasons were strictly patriotic; to protect America from terrorism.
Mom’s monitor sat next to Ben. The seven by seven screen was propped up against a rock. Mom moved around the map on the screen, represented by a red icon against a light blue topographical backdrop. The icon pulsed steadily as it moved across the landscape, that shifted with Mom’s movements. She was programmed to circle within 300 yards of encampment, the distance varying depending upon the landscape’s topography and obstacles. The only time we’d hear from Mom was when she’d encountered a human being or suspicious object, her reaction dependent on her evaluation of the situation. The patrol was in a heavily wooded area of rural Oklahoma so the odds of running into anyone this late in the evening were extremely low.
Ben sat on the ground with his back against the trunk of a large tree in the quiet night. The glow of Mom’s screen cast shadows across the forest. Ben clicked on the night button and the shadows disappeared. He stared at Mom’s red icon as it continued across the map. As he puffed on another cig, the icon shifted to a deep red and began blinking. He knew a picture was about to appear, usually a false alarm but occasionally something he’d have to deal with.
An image appeared on the screen, difficult to make out because of the dark. However, after Ben clicked a few buttons, a shape appeared; likely some sort of statue. Although the object emitted no heat, Ben thought he could make out a man posing. As it appeared in the middle of the town square, all evidence pointed to a statue but Ben wanted to be sure.
He pulled out his com, clicked a few buttons and slipped it back in his pocket. Within a few minutes, three more images appeared on Mom’s screen. It was a statue of a figure standing with a rifle. A plaque below the figure, unreadable due to the dark, even with infra-red.
Probably a civil war statue. He’d seen a lot of these since he’d signed up. The irony of the frequent civil war statues had yet to occur to Ben.
This town should be empty, a victim of the implosion. Well, the aftermath of the implosion. The rural parts were the first to fold, especially if they weren’t contributing to the food chain. They just seemed to exist to foment trouble, thought much of America. That would change, and it did.
Ben had only a few more minutes of duty left before Eduardo would take over. After the less than exciting statue discovery, it had been quiet. Mom circled the unknown campers and had sent back images of quiet solitude. Ben had nothing much to tell Eduardo when he woke. Mom was still moving quietly across the screen blinking occasionally, reminding them she was there. Ben grabbed his last cig which was mostly smoked up but he knew there were a few more puffs left. He liked that last bit of smoke just before he slid into his sleeper.
Eduardo showed up as the time showed 4:00 AM on Mom’s com. His predictability was a trait Ben appreciated, especially in the guy relieving him on his shift. He handed Mom’s com to Eduardo.
“She’s all yours,” said Ben.
Eduardo pocketed the com and smiled. As he did, Mom’s monitor made a specific noise indicating that Mom had completed a surveillance chore, in this case a string of drone camera monitors set up for those mysterious campers. A few seconds later, the screen filled with several different views of those campers. It was four in the morning, no activity appeared on the screen, just a series of tents of varying sizes, shapes and colors. The full moon had lit up the open area where these tents were located.
Eduardo stared at the moon. The patrol was approximately a half mile from this mysterious group. Probably nothing, without the usual earmarks of insurgents, but he couldn’t help but be nervous.
This entire war had strangely been in some sort of stasis. Thirty-nine months since his first patrol, he’d been in countless fire fights. At this point, he’d killed a lot of people yet things seemed more or less unchanged.
Eduardo felt as if he were on the right side, near as he could tell. After all, these guys caused the Atlanta implosion and the bombings of Dallas and San Francisco. They weren’t the good guys. They and their kind had to be stopped. Nobody he knew would disagree. It didn’t really matter what their supposed reasons were or why they’d become traitors to America. These traitors were still fighting and committing terrorist acts.
It was estimated that over 25,000 insurgents were actively fighting in the Southwest. Eduardo figured this was just a guess, because how could anyone really know? It’s not like they wore uniforms. Eduardo had since become suspicious of nearly every civilian he’d interacted with. He knew that most were innocent and legitimately knew no active MFA members, at least not knowingly, but he still looked at every person as a danger.
He knew he wasn’t the only one. There’d been numerous unfortunate “incidents” involving theoretically innocent citizens and the military. Having these terrorists hiding among the general population really bothered Eduardo. Whatever sympathy he had disappeared with these sorts of tactics.
Eduardo was standing near the tree where Mom’s monitor was propped. He stood five foot eight and had short-cropped black hair. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. It was dark and quiet until the sound of a branch breaking under the foot of what was probably a person could be heard. Eduardo froze and took a deep breath. He knew what was likely to happen next.
The image on the monitor shifted from the mysterious encampment to a patchwork of images coming from all the A.D.s as they converged on that crunching sound. Eduardo waited and watched the monitor. He had switched it to infra-red.
A figure was lying motionless about fifty yards away from Boomer. Doc’s portion of the monitor switched to a quick eval of the motionless figure. The figure’s vitals seemed to be stable, almost as if he or she were asleep. Taking no chances, Eduardo hit Doc’s subdue button. Maybe this guy was good at faking it. Doc’s needle arm extended and dosed the camp’s intruder. Eduardo zeroed in on Doc’s location. Doc already had an incident report on the com.
Eduardo read it quickly as he walked towards Doc and the visitor. The ID of the interloper showed on the screen. She was a twenty-eight year-old blonde woman from Norman Oklahoma named Wanda Jackson, apparently a school teacher. Why she was wandering the woods at four in the morning a hundred miles from Norman, Doc’s incident report did not say. Her likelihood of being a problem was rated as low. Eduardo wasn’t sure how these ratings were determined. There were only four and low was the lowest.
As Eduardo approached the woman lying just off the path that lead to their encampment, he pulled out his com and switched on the light. He pointed it at the still figure. She was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket and lay in the fetal position in a patch of ivy next to the path. She appeared to be asleep. Eduardo had his gun drawn. Doc stood beside him and Boomer loomed behind both Eduardo and Doc.
Eduardo kicked her foot lightly. She didn’t budge. Yeah, he thought, she’s out like a light-
Before he could finish that thought, Wanda Jackson sat straight up and crossed her legs. She was maybe five foot six with short brown hair and dark eyes. She smiled at Eduardo and then shot him through the forehead. Her movements were so quick that Doc and the rest of the ADs weren’t able to stop her. After killing Eduardo, she jumped up and fled like a champion track star.
Within a few seconds, the rest of the camp arrived at the scene. Mom had followed the escaping Wanda Jackson but she was unlikely to catch her. ADs weren’t known for their speed.
Ben saw Eduardo’s body lying at Doc’s feet. He asked loudly, “What the fuck happened?”
Doc replied, “We followed protocol. The intruder was dosed. I verified her state of consciousness. She then regained consciousness and shot Private Dominguez. We were unable to react quickly enough to prevent this from happening. Her speed was suspiciously fast for a human.”
Ben looked hard at Doc who wasn’t much to look at. He was basically an upright examination table with a screen for a head. “So, not human, I take it?”
“My preliminary examination showed an entirely human entity lying before me. How this entirely human entity was able to move as she did, I cannot say. However, it seemed suspicious. Especially since I had dosed her with Modocone. She should have been unconscious for several hours.”
Fuck. Just what I needed. Ben’s mind raced. He knew of no similar situation. At least, none he could think of. Some sort of advanced AD, he figured.
He knew Doc didn’t know anything more, otherwise he would have referenced the information. Being integrated fully into the net had its advantages, this being one of them. So, from that, Ben knew this Wanda Jackson was something new. He wondered if she was part of the mysterious encampment but how could he know? Wanda Jackson was seemingly long gone.
The idea of an AD in disguise passed through Ben’s mind. It had been a popular notion in fiction and he wondered if Wanda weren’t one in real life.
Ben spent the next several minutes reviewing the facts and deciding what should be done next. First check on Wanda Jackson in her home. If it could be verified that she had been home and nowhere else within the last hour, that would lend credence to Ben’s theory that the Wanda Jackson their patrol had encountered was some sort of AD in disguise. Why they chose this Wanda Jackson individual, Ben couldn’t say. Until they answered the question of her true identity, he would hold off on passing along his suspicions.
Ben watched the available video from Doc and Boomer. The figure moved so fast that even some of the footage was blurry. She couldn’t possibly be human. Poor Eddie. Talk about wrong place, wrong time.
“I have concluded that the human known as Wanda Jackson is actually an assist device of a type previously unknown,” said Doc.
Ben said, “I think I’m with you.” He paused. “Ummm, can you not file that report yet?” He already knew the answer and he didn’t know why he bothered asking.
“I’m sorry but I’m unable to alter my schedule,” said Doc.
It didn’t really matter. It’s just that Ben didn’t want to alter his schedule either because he could now expect an anxious call from the Colonel.
He was starting to believe this may have been some sort of dry run, a test. It would make sense. Probably it would have been rated a success since they killed one of ours and managed to escape capture. Ben, too, would have called it a success, unfortunately.
So far, during this war, the tech advantage had mostly been with the government, but this could be a game-changer.
The two remaining patrol members who’d slept through this had made it to the scene and were talking to Doc. Ben figured Doc could fill them in on the details.
From the path leading to Doc and the patrol members walked a determined Wanda Jackson. She quickly pulled her gun and shot dead Ben and the two other patrol members.
Half a second after killing Ben and the other two, Boomer put a bullet through Wanda Jackson’s head, which didn’t even slow her down. She turned and disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.
