Incarna

77 - Flying Squad

Day 12: Mid Morning, An Eastern Seaboard, US City.

The connection broke and for a moment Scott was left alone. He ejected the rest of the rounds then lent the now non lethal M1 against the wall. He slumped to the floor then he lent back with his head resting on the window sill. He sat there with his eyes closed replaying what he’d done.

“Ya right there son?” came Boozahh’s voice from desk top. “Ya still watchin me Boozahh? I thought ya went when Bubbah did.”

“Ya well, ya got some things to do son. Ya see watcha just did aint nevah bin dun bafor son an’ it went out live ovah the web. Notcha face mind yah, but the world saw yah do it an heard yah tallk Bubbah thru! Now all that traffic noise yah not reall’ listenin’ to is media tryin’ to get ta Bubbah and find yah too.”

“Fuckit Boozah, I don’ need this bro,” and Scott finally opened his eyes and his ears and took in the increased traffic sounds and the excited voices. He resisted the urge to look over the sill of his window but common sense told there would be cameras everywhere and one was sure to capture his disbelief.

“Yup, with ya thah son, and sose the Feds. They’ve bin in on this the whole time as well. Fact is son, these Incarna done make fools of this new intah-service liason’ o’ theirs. Never yet seen FBI, CIA and NSA do anything good together. Anyways son, Incarna linked everybody who would’ve needed to know ‘bout it into this, even Marine Corps headquarters.”

“Reckon som’ some shit gonna hit some fans real soon then Boozah!”

“Well son, it’s drippin off the walls here and the feds is kinda shit scared o’ what this Incarna just did. These Incarna took over all our secure and encrypted communications sose they could get you to do whatcha did. They even told me before you’d accepted that you was the one to do it. Some high powered thinkin’ goin’ down somewhere’s son.”

Scott watched Boozah explain all this on the screen across from him. A face in a box on a table tellong him about the world outside. Sirens came and went and the sound of choppers flying past nearly drowned out Boozah’s gruff voice.

“I’ve had one o’ them new Flyin’ Squads here with me the whole time watchin’ all this, turned up in mah office justa bout same time’s Incarna contacted me. Now, another of em teams is gonna come get ya and take ya ta safe house. Anybody knows bout that cabin o’ yours you bin tellin’ me ‘bout?”

“Nup, just worked it out which ya, othah night.”

“Good, well ya gonna have that Flyin’ Squad at ya balcony real soon, so get ya bag an’ yah gear. Don’ leave nuthin precious behind cause Feds and then media gonna be all over you an yours.” Boozah turned slightly to focus on another screen, “Yup watchin em come in now, so step back and let em in without any fuss.

“Member son, ya gonna be real famous, but the Feds need ya to keep out o sight till they knows what this Incarna’s all ‘bout! Ya with me son?” Scott nodded and slid across the floor aways and then stood up so no-one down at ground level could get a glimpse of him.

He watched the Feds arrive in their sparkling new skycar. All flashing lights and the red, white and blue colours of the Flying Squads. The Moller Skycar moved up and hovered just off his balcony edge. The front end opened and the ramp extended forward along with the buffer legs. The buffers pushed up against the outside wall and the ducted fans swiveled slightly to keep the forward pressure up.

A figure appeared from the hatchway, stood up and walked across the ramp and jumped onto Scott’s balcony. He saluted, “Sergeant, please grab your bags, we need to leave ASAP sir!”

Scott smiled, “It’s that bad is it?” the FBI agent smiled back. “Can’t say sir but I was in the Corps before the FBI so I need you to move it sir.” Scott saluted and strode to his room, grabbed his bag he’d packed three days before ready clear off. He grabbed his rifles and placed them into their crash cases. The ammo all went into another and he handed them to the agent who was waiting patiently behind. The agent turned and carried the load out to the Skycar ramp and passed them over to the other agent standing there. Scott followed and slipped his ol’ Pa’s now famous M1 into its case and sealed it then passed it up also.The Moller was the standard four seater with a small cargo bay, so there was only just enough safety margin for Scott and his gear.

“One minute left,” the agent called to Scott as he strode to his wall safe and thumbed the release then hauled the portable “End of the World’ carry box with his gold, cash, cards and extra 223 ammo in it. 223 was going to worth more than gold the Survivalists reckoned.

“That’s it,” he called and the agent directed him up onto the ramp. It was a cramped entry but they strapped in as the first of the media choppers started to circle. The pilot sounded their siren and the choppers cleared out of range. The pilot turned the Moller and they accelerated away leaving the chaos and media circus behind.

Scott just had time to glimpse a black clad figure take up position on the balcony with an AR slung across his chest. “Guess it’s all yours now,” he nodded to the FBI agent. The agent turned and to see the figure and nodded back, “Could be sir, but I reckon no-one knows anything anymore sir. What happened today marks the beginning of a whole new world sir! .. and to be honest, which I get into trouble for sir, but you above all people need to be kept in the know. We’re no longer in charge of our own affairs sir. This Incarna is!”