The shot sounded like a cannon in the enclosed space. A bright flame shot from the barrel. The bullet hit the television screen and exploded the set, leaving a gaping hole where the video-game picture had existed only a moment ago.
Zero turned to them with a smile on his face and the pistol waving before him. “I’m gonna be an ambassador. Or a prince. Some alien tries to make me his little trophy prize, I’m gonna blow his head off.”
No one spoke for a time.
Finally, RayRay said, “They still got cops, you know. In this neighborhood, I mean. A neighbor could call in on that shot. We know there’s a few neighbors left. We’ve seen them, and there are lights on out there now.”
“All the more reason for us to get up and get moving,” Zero said. He glanced around the house. “We’re about done with this place anyway.” Joey thought about going home. Any place was safer than being with Zero. Maybe it was the whiskey and the pills Zero was taking, or maybe the whole disappearances thing was catching up with him, but Joey felt like Zero had lost it. If he had been dangerous before, he was decidedly more so now.
But Joey shut down that line of thinking. Home wasn’t an option for him. His mom had turned away from him when she’d taken in all those other kids. She hadn’t even thought of him, hadn’t considered how he’d feel about getting invaded and sharing everything in his home—including his mom.
He also felt certain she blamed him for not being there when Chris … vanished. He was supposed to have been there. If it were him, he knew he’d blame himself for not being there to take care of his brother.
He already did.
Even if he’d wanted to go back to Fort Benning, he’d lost his military ID somewhere since he left. Maybe an MP would look him up in the computer and let him enter the post, but more than likely that wouldn’t happen. From the scattered news reports he’d seen on local television stations, Fort Benning remained under siege by frightened citizens begging and fighting to get in.
Still, he’d have to find a way to get across the city and back to the post before he could do anything. Predatory groups still roamed the streets, though. Murders and personal violence had escalated. Going through that dangerous landscape alone wasn’t an option.
With a sinking feeling, Joey knew he was trapped with the others. At least for the moment. He stared at Zero and the broken television, feeling that things were only going to get worse.
15
United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 0552 Hours
“Goose, wait up. Goose.”
More than anything, Goose wanted to ignore the sound of that voice because it could only mean trouble. So he pretended not to notice even though doing so made him feel bad. His father had raised him to be respectful of women.
A Ranger private parked in a Humvee across the street spotted the first sergeant. At Goose’s signal, the private put the vehicle in gear and spun it around, bringing the Hummer to a stop in front of Goose. The driver was bloodied and covered in soot, evidence of his proximity to the front line.
“First Sergeant Gander,” the private greeted.
An M-1 Abrams rumbled down the street. The heavy treads smashed through piles of debris that littered the pavement and filled the immediate vicinity with rumbling and cracking. One of the stores still burned. Flames twisted along the outside of the building like they were trying to escape. Fire teams worked to control the blaze.
Goose lifted his leg gingerly and slid into the passenger seat. He put his M-4A1 buttstock down between himself and the driver.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Away from here,” Goose answered, taking his Palm Pilot from the chest pouch of his BDU. “I’ll call it on the fly, Private. I just want to feel the wind in my face.”
“All right, First Sergeant.”
Anger seethed inside Goose. He didn’t like getting cut out of the investigation into the CIA’s operations inside the city. And despite his years of training and having the mind-set of an enlisted man, he didn’t like the way Remington had handled his dismissal in front of an audience. For a long time, they’d shared a deep friendship. Perhaps that friendship hadn’t extended beyond the postings and battles they had gone through together, but it was there at those times.
It’ll be there again, Goose told himself. Once we get around this, if we’re not dead, it’ll be there again. His friendship with Remington, despite their differences on a number of things, was part of the bedrock of his military life.
Goose’s friendship with Bill Townsend had been on a different level. Bill had gotten involved with all aspects of Goose’s life, from the military to the family. And if Bill were still here instead of among the MIAs reported after the rash of disappearances, Goose knew his friend would tell him to relax and let Remington have his way for a while. They were all headed in the same direction.
Goose couldn’t shake the idea that Icarus knew more about the vanishings than anyone else Goose had so far talked with.
“Goose.”
“First Sergeant.” The driver nodded toward the approaching woman. “Lady there seems to want to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, Goose shifted his attention to Danielle Vinchenzo. She wore fatigues and a Kevlar battle helmet. A few strands of her short-cropped brown hair poked out from under the helmet. Dirt or blood streaked one of her cheeks. Her cameraman followed her, panning the street and the soldiers.
“Maybe I don’t want to talk to the lady,” Goose growled.
“Might at least take a minute, First Sergeant,” the private said, gazing across Goose. “You got to at least tell her that running around in these streets ain’t no place for a lady.”
“I don’t think she’ll listen to me,” Goose said. He
