Assault or Attrition by Blake Northcott

couple
hours.”
    “But—“
    “But nothing,”
she insisted. “You’re not a superhuman, and you never will
be. Acting like one will just get you killed.”
    She stomped
down the runway and into the hangar, already screaming into her
wrist-com at Mac to hurry up.
    Valentina was
blunt, but she was right. The group of suicide bombers parked their
van directly across the street from my old apartment, which wasn’t
far from Excelsior Retro Comics. They knew exactly what they were
doing, and there were no other explanations for their attack; The
Fringe wasn’t a military target, and had no political or social
significance outside of the fact that it was my neighborhood. If
they weren’t there with a plan to vaporize me, then the target they
selected was a pretty big coincidence.
    Staying behind
made sense. There wasn’t much I could do to help, and this was a
two-person operation. With Valentina as security and Mac piloting,
I would just be dead weight. And if they got stopped and searched,
however slim the chance, having me on-board could make matters
considerably worse. When there is a tragedy of this scale, politics
dictate that someone has to shoulder the blame. Logically the Red
Army should have the finger pointed in their direction, but in
times of crisis, rational thought is rarely the first reaction.
     
    ***
     
    The
following hour was torture. Even though I knew the operation
was a routine pick-up, waiting for Peyton to arrive drove me into a
chest-tightening panic. Mac suggested that he could send me
real-time updates, or hook me into the jet’s in-cabin video feed so
I could be in constant contact. It was a nice thought, though I
didn’t think it would allay my anxieties. I needed someone real to
talk to, and I needed a distraction.
    After quickly
explaining the situation to Brynja, she did her best to keep me
occupied. She suggested popcorn and a movie to keep my mind off of
current events. I reluctantly agreed, but twenty minutes in I was
fidgeting in my seat, unable to maintain my focus. I wanted to
continually check the news feeds, and scour simulcasts in search of
any tidbit of information – no matter how small – that New York
might be improving. Something that would indicate that Peyton’s
situation wasn’t as grave as I’d feared.
    Unable to sit
still, I excused myself and left the media center, retreating to my
room. I paced the long row of windows that lined the entire length
of my chamber, staring out into the mountain range. That’s when I
detected some unusual movement.
    In the
distance, down in the forest clearing was a newly erected camp
site. More elaborate than the previous one that Valentina had
spotted from the runway, this site was large enough to accommodate
a hunting party of twenty, possibly more. Several ATVs were parked
around the perimeter, as well as a pair of small hover jets. Since
I’d been here I hadn’t seen a single person anywhere near the
fortress, and the staff had always noted that over the course of
the last year, there hadn’t been anyone in the vicinity – not a
single camper, hunter or tourist. This was the second group to set
up camp on the edge of my property in less than twenty-four hours,
and the timing was suspicious.
    Gazing out the
window, I was startled by a series of raps at my bedroom door. It
was Chandler, accompanied by London floating close behind.
    I forced a
smile and gestured for him to enter. “Did you notice the campers
outside?” I asked, motioning towards the forest clearing.
    “I did,” he
replied, peering out the window. “But not those ones. I mean, I can see them, obviously – I’m not blind. But there are
more...the other ones. They’re here. Knocking.”
    I raised an
eyebrow. “Even for you, that was a really weird
sentence.”
    Chandler’s pale
cheeks glowed a bright shade of crimson. “I’m so sorry
Mister Moxon, sir. I didn’t mean—”
    “It’s okay,” I
reassured him. “Just relax. What’s going on?”
    He