out the next step, ask questions, demand to know where she was being taken, but she couldn't. She couldn't make her mind work. She leaned her head back. Allowed the stuttering scudding whine of the rotor blades to drown all her thoughts but one. One that kept repeating over and over in her mind: This is just the beginning.
Chapter 5
They flew for an hour. Selah pulled on a pair of heavy headphones that blocked the roar of the blades overhead and simply watched the landscape roll by. McKnight sat still, staring out at the night and listening intently to her headphones, speaking occasionally, but she was on a private channel and Selah couldn't make out her words. Eventually, the Sergeant leaned back, affixed the rifle to a clip on her chest, and flicked a switch on her headphones.
The pilot immediately lit in. "Sergeant, just what the hell do you think you were doing back there?"
McKnight pursed her lips and looked out the open panel at the night rushing by. "Apologies, sir. There wasn't much time for protocol."
"Protocol? Article 90, Sergeant, Article 90. Striking a superior officer means a dishonorable discharge, you hear me? The hell! Soon as we hit 29 Stumps, I'm going to report your sorry ass, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," said the Sergeant, her voice weary and unconcerned. "We're en route to 29 Palms?"
"You're damn right, we are." The pilot huffed for a moment, and then, unwilling to let it go, "What's your full rank and name, soldier?"
"First Sergeant McKnight, sir."
"Well, First Sergeant, just you wait. The hell, striking me. Hitting me and giving me orders. Hell."
"Yes sir." The Sergeant reached up and flicked a switch on her headset, and then looked over at Selah. "You all right? You hurt?"
"No," said Selah. "I'm fine." She shot a glance at the partition that separated them from the pilot, and the Sergeant shook her head.
"We're on a private channel. He's probably shitting a brick about it, but whatever."
"Thank you. For getting me out of there."
McKnight's face could have been carved from stone. "Don't think I did it for you. I was just following orders."
"Orders? From whom?"
"Lt. Colonel Jackson. He's been running the Base since you killed Colonel Caldwell."
"I didn't-- Never mind. What about the direct orders to convict me?"
"I'm not saying I know what's going on. But when a Lieutenant Colonel relays a direct order from his Major General saying your ass needs extraction, your ass gets extracted."
"Huh." Selah studied the Sergeant's face, and then looked away. General Adams must have called in a huge favor. Or simply found somebody who would listen. "How are... I mean, have you heard? How is the fight going at the Base?"
The Sergeant's expression was bleak. "Not good. We had to evacuate."
"Oh." Selah searched for something to say. "What happens now?"
McKnight shook her head and looked out at the streaming dark. Her expression became bleak, her face drawn. "I received word that we bombed the Base five minutes ago. Dropped a MOAB." She cut a glance at Selah, saw her incomprehension. "Mother Of All Bombs. Our largest non-nuclear bomb. The Base is gone, and all the vampires with it."
Selah tried to imagine it. Couldn't. "How many vampires do you think were in the attack?"
"Thousands. Two, maybe three thousand."
"Do you think that was all of them?"
"I doubt it. There must still be some in the city." McKnight shook her head and looked out into the night. She looked fragile, hollow almost. As if some core belief or article of faith had been knocked right out of her.
"Do you know where Blood Dust came from?"
McKnight frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Blood Dust, the drug? It was being harvested from vampires. Made from their blood. The LA vampires--the original ones--they created and then enslaved a whole bunch of new vampires and had them locked up like cows, milking them for blood. I thought at first that they were trying to just make money, but that wasn't it. They wanted money, sure,
Chapter 5
They flew for an hour. Selah pulled on a pair of heavy headphones that blocked the roar of the blades overhead and simply watched the landscape roll by. McKnight sat still, staring out at the night and listening intently to her headphones, speaking occasionally, but she was on a private channel and Selah couldn't make out her words. Eventually, the Sergeant leaned back, affixed the rifle to a clip on her chest, and flicked a switch on her headphones.
The pilot immediately lit in. "Sergeant, just what the hell do you think you were doing back there?"
McKnight pursed her lips and looked out the open panel at the night rushing by. "Apologies, sir. There wasn't much time for protocol."
"Protocol? Article 90, Sergeant, Article 90. Striking a superior officer means a dishonorable discharge, you hear me? The hell! Soon as we hit 29 Stumps, I'm going to report your sorry ass, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," said the Sergeant, her voice weary and unconcerned. "We're en route to 29 Palms?"
"You're damn right, we are." The pilot huffed for a moment, and then, unwilling to let it go, "What's your full rank and name, soldier?"
"First Sergeant McKnight, sir."
"Well, First Sergeant, just you wait. The hell, striking me. Hitting me and giving me orders. Hell."
"Yes sir." The Sergeant reached up and flicked a switch on her headset, and then looked over at Selah. "You all right? You hurt?"
"No," said Selah. "I'm fine." She shot a glance at the partition that separated them from the pilot, and the Sergeant shook her head.
"We're on a private channel. He's probably shitting a brick about it, but whatever."
"Thank you. For getting me out of there."
McKnight's face could have been carved from stone. "Don't think I did it for you. I was just following orders."
"Orders? From whom?"
"Lt. Colonel Jackson. He's been running the Base since you killed Colonel Caldwell."
"I didn't-- Never mind. What about the direct orders to convict me?"
"I'm not saying I know what's going on. But when a Lieutenant Colonel relays a direct order from his Major General saying your ass needs extraction, your ass gets extracted."
"Huh." Selah studied the Sergeant's face, and then looked away. General Adams must have called in a huge favor. Or simply found somebody who would listen. "How are... I mean, have you heard? How is the fight going at the Base?"
The Sergeant's expression was bleak. "Not good. We had to evacuate."
"Oh." Selah searched for something to say. "What happens now?"
McKnight shook her head and looked out at the streaming dark. Her expression became bleak, her face drawn. "I received word that we bombed the Base five minutes ago. Dropped a MOAB." She cut a glance at Selah, saw her incomprehension. "Mother Of All Bombs. Our largest non-nuclear bomb. The Base is gone, and all the vampires with it."
Selah tried to imagine it. Couldn't. "How many vampires do you think were in the attack?"
"Thousands. Two, maybe three thousand."
"Do you think that was all of them?"
"I doubt it. There must still be some in the city." McKnight shook her head and looked out into the night. She looked fragile, hollow almost. As if some core belief or article of faith had been knocked right out of her.
"Do you know where Blood Dust came from?"
McKnight frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Blood Dust, the drug? It was being harvested from vampires. Made from their blood. The LA vampires--the original ones--they created and then enslaved a whole bunch of new vampires and had them locked up like cows, milking them for blood. I thought at first that they were trying to just make money, but that wasn't it. They wanted money, sure,
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