the big cisterns to the west.
He wished he could think of all the activity as an organized encampment. Instead, Shepherd saw the staging area for what it was: the chaos that comes when mixing retreating soldiers with both their supply lines and with incoming units being rushed forward to fill holes.
Pop. Pop.
The crowd silenced. Heads turned trying to find the source.
Rat-tat-tat: assault rifle fire.
Screams.
A flash of light then smoke followed by the boom of a small explosion.
General Shepherd fixed his hat in place and retreated a step toward the tent.
Suddenly the crowd between his position and the southeastern edge of camp-near the trees along the river bank-scattered like sheep running from charging wolves.
Someone shouted, “Incoming! We’ve got incoming!”
In the mid-morning light Shepherd spied balls of red sweeping at the fleeing soldiers like miniature cruise missiles shaped to resemble tiny suns. Their round bodies gave off licks of flames; maybe plasma.
He saw one impact a parked cargo van. The vehicle erupted in a powerful explosion that sent it into the air, upside down, and crashing to the pavement once again.
At this point several soldiers found their weapons and fired at the flying line of a dozen balls of red. One hit. The sphere exploded anyway throwing troops into the air like lifeless rag dolls.
The line of attackers flew toward his command tent. Shepherd saw them coming a moment too late.
He tried to dart inside but stumbled, falling forward to the pavement of what had once been a gigantic parking lot. Two of the red spheres flew directly over his head; he felt an intense heat as they passed.
Inside the tent, Simms and Duda dove for cover beneath the map table; Casey Fink and Bear Ross tried to run off.
The first of the orbs hit a storage locker at the rim of the tent. The explosion tore away the stakes and sent the tent flying off and up into the morning sky. The map table overturned; Duda and Simms tumbled over and over across the pavement.
The second impacted just beyond the tent, a pace behind General Fink and Ross. The blast sent chunks of pavement into the air along with the two men. Ross landed atop a pallet of supply crates; the sleeve of his black uniform caught fire.
Fink landed straight on the pavement, face down and motionless.
Another sphere hit an APC punching a hole in its side. Yet another dive-bombed into a crowd of men standing around a portable kitchen. Shepherd saw legs and arms tossed off as well as blobs of gore.
More explosions all around the camp. Shepherd scrambled to his feet and raced first to Woody Ross who rolled on the ground trying to douse the flames on his arm.
Shep used his hat to help snuff the fire. With a quick glance he saw Ross’ arm to be badly burned and one of his ankles twisted in an unnatural way, but nothing mortal.
He turned around and saw Cassy Simms kneeling next to Casey Fink. She rolled him over. His eyes remained open but lifeless.
“Here comes another one!”
Charles followed the sound and fired a burst from his MP5 just as one of the yellow balls flew in through a window at the front of the house. It popped from the shots and spilled sizzling acid across the hardwood. The droplets bubbled and disappeared leaving behind black holes in the floor.
“Backyard!” Ashley yelled.
Two of the yellow orbs swung into the backyard from the side of the house and raced toward the sliding glass window. The first hit, spraying its lethal cargo on the window which melted open a few square feet like ice hit with a blowtorch.
Gordon-in his wheelchair near his array of radios and computers-leveled his pistol and fired through the hole in the glass meeting the second flying ball before it entered the home. The resulting splash dissolved most of the rest of the sliding glass doors.
More machine pistol shots from the front of the house.
“I’m almost out,” Charles jogged up the hallway in search of another clip.
“Try the kitchen,” Gordon motioned toward the room across the hall from his nerve center. “I keep spare clips in the cookie jar.”
Charles pulled the lid off a Snoopy cookie jar and found what he needed. But before he could slam a new magazine home, a sight from outside the kitchen window grabbed his attention. His eyes widened and he threw himself to the ground.
“Incoming!”
Another yellow sphere smashed through the kitchens window and popped, spreading acid on the sink, floor, and Charles’ prosthetic hand.
“Are you okay?” She knelt near Charles as all went quiet inside and outside the home.
He nodded.
Ashley stood again. Gordon maneuvered his wheelchair into the hallway.
“I think that about does it.”
Another loud hum came from outside and then the front door exploded in with a wave of burning acid that splashed on the hallway floor. A second later another yellow orb flew inside the cottage and right up the hall directly at Gordon and his wheelchair.
He raised his pistol.
The orb locked onto target and increased speed-halfway down the hall…
Gordon Knox pulled the trigger on his automatic.
Click.
“Gordon!” Ashley screamed but Charles reached out with his good hand and stopped her from interfering.
The droning hum from the assassin filled the hallway. Its yellow light danced on the walls.
Knox growled, “Come and get me.”
In a swift, fluid motion Gordon threw off his pistol, reached down to a pouch just behind the right wheel of his chair, whipped out a Mossberg shotgun, pulled the forearm slide, and fired a slug five feet from the orb.
It exploded midair. The acidic contents splashed onto the ceiling, onto the walls to either side and onto the floor just an inch shy of Gordon’s foot. He eyed the sizzling drops meant for him with contempt.
“You missed, asshole.”
Yellow and red lights flashed across the estate lawn and the humming of the spheres drown out all but the highest-pitched screams.
A red ball impacted the side of the mansion; a gap tore in the stone wall and a cloud of dust billowed forth. Another detonated in the sky as a. 50 millimeter round from the Humvee founds its mark.
Lori and Jon ran for the front door of the mansion as a red ball whizzed within inches of their heads, over shot, and blasted away dirt on the far side of the lawn.
One hit the Humvee and its gunner straight-on. The entire vehicle detonated in blast of black and orange and red ejecting the soldier in the cupola in several big chunks.
The concussion of the exploding Humvee knocked both of the Brewers from their feet.
Omar scrambled toward the front gate with the guard there trying to provide cover; he succeeded in blasting one red orb from the sky while a yellow one hit the fence dissolving iron posts into globs of black goo.
Jon rolled over and came to his knees, then ducked to avoid a yellow acid-ball which hit the ground next to his wife just as she scrambled to her feet. It splashed a wave of acid over her. Lori’s clothes sizzled and her lips cried out with an agonizing moan before the poison dissolved her lungs.
Jon’s shout boomed across the grounds. He stumbled forward to his wife’s side but what remained did not move. Smoke rose from the burnt grass and the tattered mess of flesh and bones.
The general slumped to his knees in front of those remains and gaped at them in an expression of disbelief. Behind him the last red ball smashed into the front porch of the mansion and exploded while the last yellow sphere fell amongst a trio of barking canines, killing two.
