Empire

The connection broke. Cole ended his side of the call.

He had to give the humvee drivers credit. They did a good job of keeping in hot pursuit through traffic. Once he got on the open road, he could open up the Corvette and leave them in the dust.

Cole had no idea how long it would take Nielson to call off the chase. It would be so stupid to get killed—or to kill somebody else—during these minutes waiting for the word to filter down. Battle of New Orleans all over again.

MacArthur Road was packed coming toward him, but there was nobody going his direction. The trouble was, if he did overtake somebody, there was no way to pass on the left with all those cars. And, sure enough, he came up behind a farmer’s stake truck and watched the humvees come up behind him.

But these guys didn’t do any ramming. They stayed behind him, but didn’t move in. Maybe they were on the radio right now.

Drew called. “Where are you?”

“MacArthur. Just past where Clara Barton splits off, but I’m stuck behind a farm truck. I think President Nielson might be getting the order down the line for them to leave me alone.”

“Stay on the line and tell me if they back off. We can change your route, then. No reason to go to Leesburg if you aren’t being pursued.”

The humvees weren’t tailgating him now, but they hadn’t given up, either. “He was supposed to tell them not to follow me, but—”

The second humvee blew up.

“Somebody’s shooting at the humvees,” Cole shouted into the phone.

The humvee right behind him was swerving, taking evasive action. What was following it?

Cole saw a break in the oncoming traffic. Not enough of one for any sane person to pass, but whatever was shooting at the humvees probably just wanted them out of the way so they could get to Cole. He swung out and started around the farm truck as the remaining humvee also burst into flames and blew up.

The driver of the farm truck could see what was happening and even if he didn’t understand the explosions, he did understand being passed by a madman. He pulled hard to the right. Meanwhile the oncoming cars slammed on their brakes and swung right. Cole barely made it through. Then he floored it.

At first the other drivers were cursing him. Then they saw what was following Cole now. About a dozen one-man hovercrafts, looking like rocket-powered motorcycles, and at least two of them had anti-tank weapons mounted on the housing. They didn’t actually have to overtake him. Even a Corvette C6 can’t outspeed a rocket.

Fortunately, the road started curving, and there were cars trying to join the inbound traffic. Cole had to drive for his life, trying not to hit anybody while staying on a road that wasn’t exactly designed for ninety miles per hour. At least there weren’t any joggers. Oh, wait. Yes there were.

Apparently the greenery to the left was part of the Great Falls Park.

“Drew,” said Cole into the phone. “The humvees are gone. Killed. They’ve got hovercycles with what looks like anti-tank weapons. MacArthur is curvy enough they can’t get off a shot yet, but I’ve got to know what—”

“Look,” said Drew, “this is real bad. If you stay on MacArthur it dead-ends in the park. You have to turn right on Falls Road to stay on track. And it runs straight as an arrow away from the park.”

“These guys may be bastards, but they’re still Americans and I don’t think they want to hit civilians. Maybe they’ll—”

“Bullshit,” said Drew. “They’ll kill anybody they want and blame it on you. And they’ll mean it, too, because it’s your fault for getting away.”

“So what do I do?”

“Babe is heading toward you. I’m with Cat now, and he’s calling him to tell him to hurry.”

“Only if he’s armed to deal with anti-tank weapons. Here’s the turn for Falls Road. If I can make this turn without slowing down enough for them to blow me up… ”

He made the turn. And immediately regretted it. Heading straight toward him, filling Falls Road from one side to the other, were six of the two-legged mechanicals they had fought in New York City yesterday.

“They’ve got mechs ahead of me,” said Cole. Then he pocketed the phone and made a U-turn going way too fast.

In the movies these always looked cool. In real life, cars usually flipped and rolled. The Corvette acted like it was definitely considering the flip-and-roll. But American engineering was good enough this time that Cole didn’t end up smeared on the asphalt.

Now he was headed straight back at the cycles, which were just rounding the turn from MacArthur. Cole deliberately wove back and forth so nobody could aim at him properly. Instead, they swung off the pavement. Didn’t bother them at all. Hovercycles didn’t need a paved surface. They only slowed down so they could turn around and follow him.

When he got to the MacArthur turnoff, he could have turned left, but soon enough he would run into the inbound traffic and not only would he probably die, several civilians would likely die with him.

Besides, he was getting a glimmer of another plan. A stupid, dangerous one. But that seemed to be the kind that was needed right now.

This was Great Falls Park. He remembered seeing it from the Virginia side. From the observation points on that side, he could see an observation point on the Maryland side. He picked up the phone as he went with all deliberate speed into the park.

“Drew, I’m back on MacArthur heading into the park.”

“It’s a dead end!”

“I’m going to cross the river at the park.”

“You can’t cross the river!”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”

“People drown there. Not just some of them. Everybody who tries to hop the rocks.”

“But I’m Ranger trained,” said Cole.

“I don’t care if you’re a damned SEAL,” said Drew.

“I’m a dead man if I stay in this car and on those roads,” said Cole. “So this is my best chance.”

“Then your chances suck, man.”

“I’ll deal with the river if you guys can lay down suppressing fire.”

“Damn. It’ll cost five bucks a car to get into the park.”

“Shut up,” said Cole. He ended the call and concentrated on driving.

The park entry booth loomed ahead. There was a car at the booth chatting up the ranger. Cole approached at top speed. The ranger saw him coming and ran out of the booth, yelling for him to stop. Cole didn’t. He went around the booth on the other side. He didn’t need the rearview mirror to know that the ranger was on the phone instantly, calling for whatever backup rangers called for. That was good. Because in a moment he would use that phone connection to tell whoever it was about mechs and hovercycles blowing through in hot pursuit.

For a crazy moment he thought about those two soldiers who had been left beside the Connecticut Avenue freeway onramp. That was the luckiest move of their lives, getting out of that humvee.

Cole didn’t worry about parking nicely. He did take the Mollie vest and the M-240 because even though it was useless against the mechs, it would do fine against anybody who got out of a hovercycle.

He headed for the woods, at first on the path, but soon getting off it. He didn’t want to get trapped at the observation point. And he wanted to improve his odds a little.

Sure enough, the bad guys tried to stay on their hovercycles along the path to the observation point. Only when they found he wasn’t there did they stop, settle down to the ground, and get out. The mechs were probably still lumbering up the road. So it was Cole, his M-240, and now, by actual count, eight guys. Unless there were two others who had stayed behind and were now approaching on foot. Because his initial count had been ten. Had to remember the possibility that there were bad guys behind him. The trouble is that a machine gun is best against massed troops. It isn’t much of a tool for taking guys out one by one. And if he got close enough to use a pistol, they’d overwhelm him by sheer force of numbers.

But for the moment, as they were still getting out of their hovercycles, they were massed enough. Cole set up the weapon and let fly. Short bursts, to husband his ammo, because there wasn’t much.