فصل 7

Chapter 7: Gasoline Jelly

Nogales, Mexico

The sun was rising behind us as our van rattled slowly along the rutted, dusty road. After another twenty minutes the landscape changed from plains to small rolling hills and valleys. The vegetation, mostly saguaro and mesquite, was charred black. In the distance we could see a thin gray column of smoke rising into the sky.

“They used napalm,” Ostin said, his voice quivering.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“You can smell the phosphorous.”

“What’s napalm?” Nichelle asked.

“It’s like gasoline jelly,” Ostin said. “The U.S. Army used it for attacking bunkers and machine gun nests in World War II. Then they used it to clear the jungle in Vietnam. Whatever it hits, it sticks to and burns.” Again, my thoughts turned to my mother and the horror she must have experienced. As we neared the ranch, Scott had to slow down even more to avoid the large craters in the road.

“Look,” Taylor said, pointing. “One of the horses.” About a hundred yards from us, the Appaloosa we had seen in the ranch’s corral before we left for Taiwan stood looking at us. It took off, running away from us.

“She’s spooked,” Taylor said.

“At least someone made it out alive,” Nichelle said.

None of us said anything.

A few minutes later, Ian said, “There’s something up ahead, to the right. I think it’s an undetonated missile.” “One of ours, or theirs?” Scott asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Describe it,” Ostin said.

“It’s black. It’s about six feet long and six inches in diameter. It has little tail fins on back.” “Do you know what it is?” I asked.

“Sounds like a Hellfire missile,” Ostin said. “It’s an air-to-surface missile originally designed for antitank attacks, but now it’s used for precision strikes. They have a fairly short range, less than five miles, which means the Elgen must have flown in for the attack. Probably in helicopters. That’s what the Hellfire was originally designed for.” Scott slowed the van down. “Are we safe passing it?” “How far is the missile from the road?” Ostin asked.

“About a hundred yards.”

“We’re safe. Hellfires carry a highly explosive twenty-pound warhead, but they’re directional. If it’s not flying at us, we’re okay. It’s highly unlikely it would go off now.” “How many of those missiles can a helicopter carry?” I asked.

“Sixteen,” Jack said.

Ostin looked like someone had beaten him to the buzzer on a game show. “How’d you know that?” “The marines use them to clear the ground before landing,” Jack said. “My brother told me.” “They must have had a lot of helicopters to fire that many missiles,” Nichelle said. “The ground looks like the moon.” “The missiles made some of these craters,” Ostin said. “But most of them are from the ranch’s land mines.” “How can you tell?” Taylor asked.

“Hellfire missiles are shot down to penetrate a target. The land mines are designed to explode upward, so the hole they leave in the ground is more shallow.” A mile later we passed two destroyed Hummers. Both of them were scorched, and one was still smoking. It had nearly been blown in two. As we neared the ranch, the devastation grew even worse. Much worse.

“We’re getting close,” Scott said. “Everyone keep your eyes open.” He turned toward Ian. “If you see any movement at all, you tell me.” “I don’t see anything,” Ian said. “Except ashes and holes.” Scott slowly edged the van to the upper rim of the canyon until we could see the compound below us. Or at least what was left of it. My stomach turned at the sight of what was before us. What had been the great ranch house was now a pile of charred rubble and brick and twisted chicken wire. Everything had been destroyed.

The buildings were all burned down to their concrete foundations, with smoke still rising from the debris. There were overturned cars and trucks, and the resistance’s sole helicopter was on its side, its propeller lying twenty yards away from its burned-out fuselage.

The only thing still standing was one of the windmill generators at least three hundred yards away on the opposite mountain—though every one of its blades was damaged.

“I can’t believe this is the same place where we stayed three weeks ago,” Taylor said softly.

“They must have fired more than a hundred missiles,” Ostin said, his voice strained with emotion. “At least.” After a couple of minutes I said, “I want to go down and see.” “No,” Scott said. “It’s too risky. It would be too easy for them to trap us in the ravine, and there might be more unexploded bombs.” “There is no them,” I said. “The Elgen are gone. Just like everyone else.” “We can’t take that chance.”

“Then I’ll walk down,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“Michael,” Taylor said. “Please don’t.”

“Wait,” Ian said. “We can go. There’s no one around. I’ll keep a close watch.” “If Michael’s going, I’m going too,” Jack said.

“Me too,” Zeus said.

Scott took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “All right. I’ll drive down. But we won’t stay long.” He shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.” He shifted the van into drive, and we slowly made our way down into the ravine and the smoking remains of the compound. In a couple of places the road was nearly impassable, and it took some expert driving to navigate the craters and ruts.

As the road leveled out into the valley, any hope I had that there might be survivors was gone. Nothing could have survived the missile attack that had pulverized the compound, or the firestorm that had followed.

“Welcome to hell,” Nichelle said.

A sickeningly sweet, acrid smell filled our nostrils. “Yeah, they used napalm,” Ostin said softly. “Lots of it.” The first time we’d seen the compound, Ian had told us that the buildings were surrounded by metal electrical cages, which were now visible, as the buildings’ wood had all burned away. The resistance had prepared for an EMP attack, but apparently not a conventional attack of bombs and bullets. They had little armament other than an attack helicopter and a few armed vehicles, most of which had, apparently, never even made it out of their garages. They were now nothing more than burned, mangled metal surrounded by the remnants of their housing’s concrete foundations.

“They must have been taken totally by surprise,” Jack said. “They didn’t even get their weaponry out.” “Overkill,” Zeus said, shaking his head. “It’s overkill.” “It’s strange,” Ian said.

“What’s strange?” I asked, ticking painfully.

He looked back at me. “Why aren’t there any remains?” “Remains?” Taylor said.

“Bodies. Or bones.”

“Maybe they took prisoners first,” Tessa said. “Then destroyed the place.” “It doesn’t look like it,” Ostin said. “They were going for complete annihilation.” The van continued slowly forward, snaking between piles of smoldering rubble smoking like funeral pyres. Finally we stopped in front of what had been the main building.

“I want to get out,” I said.

Scott shut off the van, and we all climbed out. There really wasn’t anything to see but the building’s charred concrete foundation and twisted, black metal wire. I stepped over a wagon wheel, as black as ash. I could see the bones of a horse in a clearing. Other than that there was no evidence of life. Or death. It looked like those war pictures from our history books. I had never seen such devastation in real life.

I bent over and vomited. Abigail put her hand on my back and relieved some of my pain, although I’m sure she was hurting too.

“Ian,” Ostin said. “Gervaso said there were underground bunkers. Do you see anyone?” Gervaso had been one of the military coordinators at the ranch. And our friend.

“I’m looking,” he said. “So far they’re empty.” “I don’t get it,” I said. “If they came in by helicopter, Tanner could have brought them all down. Just like he did in Peru.” “Unless he wasn’t here when they came,” Jack said.

“Or maybe they surprised them in the night.” “The Elgen are careful,” Ostin said. “They would take the possibility of him being here into account. The Hellfires have a five-mile range. They could fly close enough to fire missiles, then come in after the first attack. There were more than a hundred missiles; he couldn’t stop all of them.” “Look,” Ian said, pointing southward. There was a burned-out helicopter smashed into the ground. “It’s one of theirs.” “Maybe Tanner got one of them,” I said.

“Or they shot it down,” Jack said. “They had RPGs.” We walked over to the helicopter. As we looked in, Taylor gasped, then quickly turned away.

“What is it?” Tessa asked.

“Bones,” I said.

There were burned remains of two Elgen guards inside, still buckled into their seats.

I continued wandering past glowing cinders of debris, looking for some evidence of non-Elgen humanity. But everything was ashes. That’s how I felt inside. Ashes.

After a few moments I turned and walked back to the van. Everyone else followed. When we were back inside, Taylor said, “Can we go down that dirt road a ways?” “Why?” Scott asked.

I glanced over at Taylor. Her eyes were red. “Just, please. I need to see something.” “Just do it,” I said.

“All right,” Scott said reluctantly. “We’ve already come this far.” He slowly pulled the van forward. Fifty yards from the house there was a large crater in the center of the road, and we had to drive up onto the road’s shoulder to get to where Taylor wanted to go—the redbrick utility building where we had had our prom dinner.

“This is the place,” she said.

Scott stopped the van, and Taylor slid the door open and stepped out. Only I followed her.

The building wasn’t completely decimated like the others—probably because it was so far from the main compound—but it was still reduced to a pile of bricks with only one and a half walls still standing. Taylor walked up to where the front door had been, then picked her way through the rubble. She suddenly stopped to bend over and pick something up. She turned to show me. It was one of the silver candleholders from our dinner.

“It’s all gone, Michael.” She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “You were right. They’ve taken everything.” I took her hand. Just then I heard the sound of a helicopter. I looked up but couldn’t see it through the clouds.

Scott yelled, “Everyone out of the van! Take cover, fast!” We all scrambled from the vehicle, everyone running in different directions before lying flat on the ground. For several minutes we waited tensely.

“What kind of chopper is it?” Scott yelled to Ian.

He paused, then said, “Maybe U.S. border control. There aren’t any missiles or guns. They don’t look like Elgen.” Less than a minute later the sound of the chopper passed and faded. Scott stood up, visibly shaken. “We’ve been here too long. We’ve got to get out of here.” “What a chicken,” Jack said to me under his breath.

As we were getting back into the van, Ian said, “Wait. I see something.” I turned to him. “What?”

“It’s a person. They might still be alive.” “Where?”

“About a half mile that way,” he said, pointing. “He crawled the whole way.” “How can you tell?” Taylor asked.

“He left a trail.”

“He?” Taylor asked.

Ian shook his head. “Or she. I can’t tell from here.” “Are they one of ours?” I asked.

Ian shook his head again. “I don’t know. But whoever it is, they’re in bad shape.”