The blast knocked me flat and punched the wind from my lungs. I pushed myself to my feet with ringing ears, still fighting for a breath. I stared dully without comprehension at the fireball to my right. The tank was gone, replaced by an unrecognizable firestorm.
“Sweet Jesus!” someone said. He sounded far away.
I could hear a jet tearing through the air somewhere in the distance.
“Get up!” Gonzo was urging. “Let's go. Let's go.”
I ran to the brick building. The double glass door at the front entrance had been shattered by the force of the blast. My legs felt rubbery and loose and not entirely my own.
“Clear the first room,” Gonzo ordered. Our soldiers entered the room in pairs, fanning out into the darkened building. The sun had cleared the mountains and dawn had found us. I crouched outside the door with my back pressed against the brick wall. I saw the Raptor streak overhead then, flying low and banking in a tight turn as it strafed the ground a half mile away, firing at some unseen foes. It made another pass and I heard an explosion. The sound of enemy gunfire had abated.
“Clear!” came a voice from within the building. We entered the large room. The base was laid out in a grid, and this was the largest building in the compound. I walked over to Gonzo, who was studying his map. We were both breathless.
In a firefight, your body is in overdrive, and the heart beats frantically to deliver. It is an exhausting thing, even when you are not running, having people trying to kill you.
“We gotta secure the rest of the base,” he said. “From the sound of things, there aren't too many hostiles left. We’re not sure though.”
“All right,” I said. “Do you want to split up?”
Gonzo thought for a second and said, “Yeah. I'll take my men and have a look around. You stay here. Tend to our casualties. Wait before you proceed farther into this structure. I've got a funny feeling.”
“All right.”
“That was something,” he said. “Angel on our shoulders, that Raptor.”
We had lost the entire platoon of men that had been on our left flank to the tank. Gonzo had taken losses as well, and my platoon was down to fifteen men. I ordered a four man team to climb up to the roof while Gonzo headed out with the remains of his platoon. We booby trapped the corridor leading into the bowels of the building with grenades, and Chewy covered the far door with the SAW while we awaited Gonzo's return.
*
Throughout the morning I heard sporadic gunfire, mostly single shots from our men on the roof, and one intense firefight which lasted for several minutes. It was early afternoon by the time Gonzo returned.
“I don't know what to do with these clowns,” he said, gesturing with his thumb at the line of prisoners behind him. There were more than twenty of them, uniformed in dark fatigues and looking around nervously. Gonzo's men kept their weapons trained on them.
“They were holed up together in a hangar,” Gonzo said. He spat. “Ambushed us with mortars and a fifty.” I saw that Gonzo had returned with only ten of his men. “Ran out of ammo and then they surrender. Bastards.”
Chewy walked outside and stood with his hands on his hips, glowering at the enemy prisoners. “I know what to do with 'em,” he said. There was an uncomfortable silence, smoldering and thick. Gonzo was looking at me.
“Hold on now,” said one of the prisoners. He was a man in his late twenties, thin, with dark close-cropped hair and a large nose that pointed off to the side at a funny angle, giving him a lopsided look. He was smiling broadly with his hands raised, shuffling forward to plead his case.
“Look here,” he said. “We're not your enemies. You attacked us.”
Chewy, who had left his SAW inside the building reached for his sidearm, his eyes flat.
“Uh huh,” I said. I casually put the muzzle of my weapon on his chest.
“Wait! I can help you. I know why you're here.”
“Shut up,” I growled.
“We are unarmed. We surrendered. You can't kill us. It's murder. We're all Americans.”
“You fall out,” I said. “The rest of you, up against the wall.” I gestured with my rifle. “Now.”
The prisoners looked uncertain and afraid. One of them at the rear bolted. Chewy shot him in the back with his .45 before the man took two steps. The rest of the prisoners lined up against the wall, looking pathetic and helpless.
“My name is Paul,” the dark haired soldier said. “I have a family. Let me show you. He reached gingerly into a pocket on his chest and pulled out a wrinkled photograph and extended it to me hopefully. “My wife and daughter,” he said. “Don't kill us. Please.”
“Your call,” Gonzo said.
“Let me help you,” Paul pleaded. “I'll take you to the labs. You can lock my men up. We won't be any trouble.”
There was murder in me as I stared at him, a ragged darkness around the edges of my soul, an alien, coiled thing with sound and fury which threatened to compel me to pull the trigger. My chest felt constricted and tight.
“Chewy, take these prisoners inside. If they blink wrong....” I said. “So, Paul, the labs?”
“They're inside. I'll take you.”
“We've got movement!” someone shouted from the roof. “I've got eyes on four men. Can't tell if they're ours or theirs. Six hundred meters, coming from the west.”
“Let them come,” Gonzo ordered. He motioned to two of his men. “Go have a look.” The prisoners wound into the building while our soldiers looked upon them with hatred.
“Sit,” I said to Paul. “Hands on top of your head.”
“You search 'em?” I asked Gonzo.
“Yeah, they're all clean.”
A few minutes later, I was amazed to see Max coming toward us with his three men, escorted by our soldiers. He was grinning, dressed in desert fatigues, sun-burned and caked with dirt.
I strode out to meet him and clasped his hand warmly. “William,” he said. “You're looking a whole lot more alive than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks for that,” I replied.
“You'd a done it for me,” he said. “I couldn't figure out how to get you out sooner.” He glanced around, appraising the situation. “Sorry I couldn't be more help here.”
Max pointed at the still smoking crater where the tank had been. “That SOB. I lit him up with the laser the first time. I don't know how the Raptor missed. The bomb must have malfunctioned. Had to call in a second jet.”
“So that was you?”
“Yeah, we saw the whole thing. Wasn't much we could do to help, beyond calling in another air strike. We waited while your boys mopped up.” He nodded toward Paul, who sat watching us intently. “What's with the prisoners?”
I shrugged. “Says he's going to help us.” I shook my head. “A lot of killing today.”
“I understand. So now what?”
“We're going to secure this building,” I said.
*
Our intelligence regarding the Dugway Proving Ground was pitifully thin. Chilli and Hawk knew of it from their experience before The Fall. Both of them had actually been there during their time in Special Forces, but their exposure had been limited. We knew the base had been large and well-funded prior to The Fall, and had been the site of top-secret research and development for both biological and chemical weapons. Dugway was cloaked in mystery and security. Chilli had joked that Dugway was the “new Area 51,” and there were rumors among the Special Forces community that bizarre experiments took place there, speculation that alien spacecraft rested somewhere underground with men in white coats poking and prodding and dissecting.
When we discussed it from the safety of Jackson Hole, the tales had seemed laughable and far removed in the way a child's fairytale is disconnected from reality, however, the labyrinthine underground, with its dark sterile corridors and claustrophobic air, contained horrors beyond any fairytale I had ever read. I discovered that sometimes the monsters which rustle and lurk in the black abyss are very real.