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  Chapter 14: The Wave

  Its dark and its frickin cold. The wind is moaning through the sand dunes and sending the sand sifting, flowing, drifting and flaring up into the air in clouds. Fortunately for me I am in my combat suite so it’s a very comfortable 25 degrees and no sand irritating me. But it’s not so nice for Frosty and he looks miserable in his pretend Daesh outfit, black ski mask and all, although he added goggles in the interests of actually not being blinded by the sand.

  D flies me to the primary location with the SSWG device in my lap as I dangle under the quad copter in my harness. We have cloaking turned on to be sure we were not spotted but to be honest the weather is so crappy we could have driven a bus into the site and not been noticed. I hunkered down close to the device with my rifle at ready and scanned the images on my visor. The heat signatures of the town tell me the ISIS terrorists are home and out of the weather. We have not encountered any camp guards on our way in and this makes me nervous. They have to be out there in the sand but I can’t detect them. The damn sand may be partially blocking their heat signatures if they are lying down, which they likely are.

  D returns with Frosty and the second device and they set it on the far side of the encampment. Frosty and I align the wireless power transmitter/receiver and they leave to collect the third unit. Still no sign of the damned guards in the dunes surrounding the camp. Surely these dumbasses can’t be so lax as to not have a defensive parameter setup. D is monitoring all frequencies around the camp and basically has them under a complete cone of silence, nothing coming in and no transmissions going out.

  D and Frosty return with the third unit, position it, and we aligned the power TX/RX. I continue to scan the encampment and the surrounding dunes, visually, night vision, infrared, and listen for any communications which might indicate an alert. There is nothing, not a peep, the camp of the living dead. D and Frosty leave to pick up the fourth and final unit.

  With the final unit in position to close the open side of the square, we align and wait, all is calm. D switches on the primary unit, a soft red glow from one of the dials is the only indication it is alive. One by one the other three units come on-line and their respective dials light up.

  “Is everyone set,” asks D.

  “Fine here,” I say.

  “All good over here,” says Frosty.

  “Frosty, I want you over at the primary unit in the event we have difficulty,” says D.

  “Matt, I want you and your rifle with me and we are going to be overhead for air support during this operation.” says D.

  Frosty arrives and we give one another a knuckle bump as we pass. I latch in under the quad copter and up we go.

  “Still no sign of any defense parameter guards, which concerns me, so stay sharp,” I say.

  “Roger that, ok, I’m starting the primary SSWG, there will be nothing to see or feel for the first few moments until the waves begin to propagate.” advises D.

  We circle the encampment at about two hundred feet of altitude, fully cloaked. It is dark but I can still see with regular vision and of course clearly with night vision. Nothing is moving around the external parameters of the camp. After two laps I hear Frosty.

  “We are starting to get an effect in the sand about forty feet in front of the primary unit. The sand seems to be vibrating and drifting in the wind more there than elsewhere.”

  “The same thing will happen in front of the other units. Keep watching as when the waves reach the correct level the sand is going to look like it is boiling, and then things are going to happen fast.” says D

  D and I continue our laps over the camp. I can see the boiling beginning to form in front of each of the devices and I watch as it spreads. It seems I can detect just on the edge of hearing or edge of feeling a very, very low frequency grumble. Maybe it’s my imagination and I am just sensing based on suggestion and nothing else.

  “Ok guys, look sharp, here it goes!” warns D.

  The boiling sand has reached the center of the camp and its intensity increases; the sand is vibrating up a couple of feet in the air and being whipped around in clouds by the wind. Unbelievably, like something from a horror show or nightmare, the trucks and jeeps begin to quickly sink into the sand, just plop and they are gone, followed by water tanks, fuel tanks, satellite dishes just sink out of sight.

  We see the lights come on briefly in the barracks and Daesh terrorists start running and screaming out of the buildings and are immediately swallowed by the sand, just like they had stepped into water. Next the temporary buildings begin to tip over and sink out of sight. The Daesh rats are terrified and crawl out of windows and scurry onto roofs only to view a scene of horrific nightmare proportions. The entire encampment is sinking, sliding and being swallowed by the sand.

  The low frequency rumble is clear and guttural now as the SSWG’s reach full power and wave propagation. The tents just drop straight down into the sand like they were pulled under by a hand. The barracks and any remaining temporary building sink heavy end first, as the bathroom and water tanks at the back of the building pull them down first leaving the building vertical in the air for seconds. More Daesh crawl out the doorway and jump to save themselves only to sink immediately without a trace, a strangled scream and they are gone. The wind has picked up and the sand that is free and vibrating is gathered up by the wind and driven in great clouds into a blinding sandstorm.

  D and I continue with the laps but at a higher altitude out of the thick sandstorm. Looking down it is like the whole encampment is being flushed in a giant toilette bowl. I catch a flash of infrared in my visor and turn to identify. Finally the defensive parameter is appearing. They were farther away from the encampment than I had bargained, but they are coming in now as they can here the deadly rumbling. I bring my gun to bear on the first and whack him into a bag of hot dead meat. As D and I are invisible we fly directly above the incoming guards and shoot them all, quick easy and efficiently.

  When we turn and move back toward the encampment there is nothing there, it is all gone, swallowed in the sand. All that remains are the four devices, Frosty, and a hell of a sandstorm being generated over a three block radius.

  “I’m going to drop you by Frosty and take him back to our camp. Keep an eye on things and kill anything that moves.” instructs D.

  “Roger that,” I reply as I unlatch and help Frosty into the harness and latch him up.

  I crouch by the primary device almost debilitated by the pervasive rumble. It makes your head ache, fucks up your vision, makes your teeth ache, and you feel it in your bones. Instinctively I look at my feet to ensure they are not sinking. They aren’t, but the sensation is they might at any second. Then without warning the rumbling begins to fade. The sand begins to stabilize out in front of the devices and as I watch the sand solidifies as the rumble fades to nothing.

  “Well, are you satisfied, did it work as advertised or what?” D demands.

  “Jesus, it was fucking unbelievable, horrific, and nightmarish, what a hell of a device D, I won’t doubt you again!”

  “Good thing human, or next time I might put you on the wrong side of the device.”

  “How far down are those Daesh terrorist bastards?”

  “Our calculations and subsequent monitoring say they are 38 feet below the surface,”

  “Wow, any chance they can dig their way out?”

  “No way in hell, as they are all smothered in the sand. In addition when sand has been shaken it becomes a very compact solid mass afterwards. Just like blown or shoveled snow is much harder than when it falls. They are encased and entombed for eternity.”

  “Holy fuck D, that’s outstanding, terrifying, but outstanding!”

  Chapter 15: More Contracts

  Not twenty-four hours has elapsed since our work at the Daesh desert encampment. As a matter of fact Frosty and I are still taking shifts driving out of the desert, predominantly at night, as it was just safer that way and we choose not to be too obvious. As usu
al D was chattering away to us on a multitude of topics, not the least of which was navigational directions.

  “Well, well, well,” chuckles D. “That certainly did not take long.”

  “What didn’t take long?” asks Frosty.

  “We have been contacted again for another assignment.” replies D

  “Be serious, we haven’t even extracted ourselves from this one.” I mutter, as I maneuver the MAN beast around a clump of fridge sized rocks.

  “That may very well be, but we have been contacted with another assignment.” says D. “Not surprised actually as I have been noting a huge jump in comm traffic in the USA, Europe and Middle East. Seems everyone is a flutter about an item which suddenly disappeared in the North African desert. But no matter where any of them look they cannot find what went missing. The Daesh terrorist rats are particularly pissed off about this as they look like hugely incompetent bunglers when they lose a whole encampment.”

  “About the time it would take for a couple of satellite passes observing and verifying the Daesh camp has disappeared from the given location co-ordinates, and maybe a second verification from a Global Hawk drone.” says Frosty.

  “Exactly,” says D. “Want to know where we are off to?”

  “Let me guess,” I say, as I paw the steering wheel back and forth as the MAN sways along in its rumbling rock and roll motion.

  “One guess each, that’s all you get,” smiles D.

  “I guess France,” I say.

  “Bingo, aren’t you the bright young chauffeur?” teases D.

  “Stands to reason, they have some serious terrorist cells in France which are becoming well more than a passing pain in the ass. And the French President is seriously pissed off the killings, bombings, and shit-storms which are happening on his watch. He wants it stopped RFN.” notes Frosty.

  “What’s RFN?” asks D.

  “Right fucking now,” I chuckle.

  “Oh man, I should have guessed,” giggles D.

  “What course setting navigator,” I ask.

  “Just checking, yes this will provide nicely, same course for the next couple of hours. Then switch to a north heading of 340 degrees to Sidi Bel Abbes instead of turning west back to Rabat. There is a joint civil and military airbase there we can use to get airlifted to France.” replies D.

  “Aren’t we going to draw attention rumbling around in this truck?” asks Frosty.

  “Unlikely, this is a major mustering point for race crews for the Paris Dakar Rally which used to run here. The rally is in South America now, but the race teams still fly into this airport for testing in the desert. All vehicles are flown in and out in containers, just like mine. Well, not nearly as nice or decorated as fine as mine, but a container none the less.” replies D. “So people are not going to pay much attention to what looks like another race team doing development testing.”

  We sway and roll along in silence for a while. Each lost in their own personal world of speculation on what we might be doing in France. Frosty was the first to speak.

  “This France gig could be very lucrative and relatively easy work. Not like trying to make a whole fricking encampment disappear into the sand. These terrorist cells are generally small two or three man operations and the cells are scattered around in various locations. This really works in our favor. D will be able to eavesdrop on all communications and find the terrorist cell in question and the location. We use the drone and cloaked invisibility to come in at night, infiltrate the premises, kill the one or two terrorist operatives, and take pictures of the handiwork which will show up anonymously to the French Press. We will conduct exactly the type of terrorist strategy the Daesh pukes are attempting to use on the French public. As a matter of fact I think we should not use the pulse rifle at all, and instead use a Glock 34, 9mm with a Gemtech Suppressor using untraceable Mexican 147 grain subsonic ammo to make it look like conventional French soldiers and agents are killing the terrorists. And as the terrorists like to behead their victims we might consider head shots for killing these diseased rats. What do you think of those ideas?” asks Frosty.

  “I think you calling the terrorists “diseased rats” is my expression, go find your own.” I mutter, and go back to yanking on the big steering wheel.

  “There are aspects of your plan Frosty which have a great deal of merit. I can easily monitor all communication frequencies and find the targets using reverse cross vectoring, in addition to hacking into French police and secret service databases to get current terrorist cell locations. I quite like the use of a common caliber handgun for the killing as it throws suspicion away from us using the pulse rifle. The powers to be would know the difference in the kill methodology and know it was not the French who were doing the killing. Invisibility for the drone copter and Matt are the “piece de resistance” as we will never be seen coming, going or during.” says D. “However I draw the line at sending pictures or videos of our work to the French Press. That’s inappropriate, if the French wish to publish pictures of the dead terrorist they can. But we should just be concerned with the quiet and effective elimination as per the contract, nothing else.”

  “I kinda have some issues with the plan, it seems like the French guys like the DRM, COS and 13th RDP are doing all the ground work and intelligence and then we are swooping in for the kill based on stolen Intel. If I was with any of the French agencies I would be more than a bit pissed about this. It is for all intents and purposes an insult to the French capabilities.” I wonder out loud.

  “And how do you see this different from Mexico, Alberta, or Algeria? This is what we do. We are invisible, non-existent, specialized contractors who don’t follow any laws or rules, just make problems die and go away. This is not about fairness and who did the groundwork, this is about body count of dead terrorists and nobody knowing what the fuck happened.” replies Frosty.

  “For all anyone knows Matt, the terrorists could be cleaning their own house because they feel they have been compromised and want to be sure none of their players are left to be turned to rat them out.” says D. “You also need to remember we don’t get to kill every terrorist in France, so I think there is plenty to go around for all the agencies. We’ll get a list of particular nasty buggers for us to terminate, and no one except a few senior execs in the uber secure parts of maybe two agencies will even realize we are operating in France.”

  “Not going soft on us are you?” asks Frosty.

  “Nope, not at all, you both are correct. I just kinda lost track of who and what we are there for a couple of minutes.” I muse. “Oh and why specifically a Glock 34 with Gemtech Suppressor and 147 grain subsonic Mexican ammo to eliminate the terrorists?

  “Because we have two of them with the ammo supply in our armaments and we don’t have to fool around attempting to purchase illegal arms.” replies Frosty with a big grin.

  “Change course at the next turn to the right and we’ll begin heading North to Sidi Bel Abbes and the airport. I’m working on the documents for “official” air cargo transportation to France.” says D.

  “How about the guy we rented this MAN beast of a truck from? Is he gonna be pissed and whining about his truck winding up on the other side of Algeria?” asks Frosty.

  “Took care of it already boys,” replied D. “Paid him twice his fee we agreed on, for the one way trip, and gave him a bonus to forget we ever did business. He was delighted.”

  “Jesus D,” I chuckle. “And here we think you are just a pretty face along for the ride to entertain us.”

  “Guffaw, you humans are so ineffective, you have to have two hands and two arms just to try to find your ass.” chortles D.

  “Wow, nice one D!” cackles Frosty.

  Chapter 16: Monster

  “Matt... are you awake?”

  “Kinda, flopping around in this damn truck doesn’t make for a very good sleep for me.”

  “I was watching a movie.”

  “Well, that’s just totally unfair; you watch movies wh
ile Frosty and I try to drive our way out of this damn desert.”

  “The movie was the Avengers, and I have questions.”

  “I’ll answer them if I can D.”

  “Am I a monster?”

  “Jesus D, why would you ask such a thing?”

  “Well I’m not human, and I have significantly more than human capabilities, similar to the Sci-Fi monsters in the movie. So does that make me a monster?”

  “No D, you are not a monster, not at all.”

  “But I engineered the death of all Daesh terrorists at both of the encampments.”

  “Monsters are not necessarily entities with advanced capabilities D. They are most often plain human. Hitler was a monster and he had no special capabilities. Ethnic cleansing of Jews in WWII, or the middle ages Catholic Church cleansing opposing other religions and non-believers. Monsters are those who believe their way is the only way and attempt to kill all who oppose.”

  “True, but we killed everyone in the encampments Matt.”

  “We did in an attempt to halt the Daesh monsters determined to kill all who disagree with their four hundred year old vision of reality, D.”

  “So we are defending ourselves by killing monsters in the form of the Daesh rats.”

  “I certainly think so D, some very smart people built you, and with the help of Frosty and your own intelligence, you have learned to be significantly smarter than we are. You are a wonderful entity, and eminently qualified to help us defend ourselves against the Daesh encroachment.”

  “I like that Matt; I’m kinda like Jarvis, Tony Stark’s AI System. I like the parallel and similarity.”

  “Jarvis is a very good parallel D. We could never do what we do without you, and you’re absolutely indispensable!”

  “Thanks Matt, you make me feel good, I like your logic.”

  “You’re welcome D, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight Matt.”

  Chapter 17: Sidi Bel Abbes