Chapter 2
Checkpoint C. Washington State Mobile HQ Bunker.
They
call it the Cold Honor. It's hard to believe but before the war, Guard Duty was
sometimes issued as a punishment. It's almost understandable in a way. The cold
sucks the life out of you, and you can't have a heat source other than body
heat under a reflector. Depending on available personnel, you might be out
there for as much as 8 hours. If
an Infiltrator finds its way to your door you spend the rest of your life
trying to get to the warning alarm. That's why there are six people assigned to
every door. Jeff was seven when Judgment Day came. It seemed like a lifetime
ago, because for him… it was. At fourteen he wasn't the youngest person
ever assigned the Cold Honor, but it was a major achievement nonetheless. It
meant he was trusted with the lives of everyone inside. They knew he could stay
frosty and hold the line. He was only allowed to work the Hot Door. The Hot
Door was the third inside door; beyond it there was some heat, and when it
opened he could get a little warmth. He crouched and shivered over the Browning
50 Caliber machine gun. Its muzzle had been sawed down ages ago and it was
stuck through a cut out into the Cold Room. The Cold Room is where the guard
dogs on duty are kept. They can always sniff out a Terminator. No one gets in
till they get past them.
Across
the way Phil was being his usual tower of strength. He was 16 and had been on
the door on and off for a year and half. He had a bad cold and his nose was
running, but he stood and watched. Everyone knew Phil in the WSMR. He had
survived an infiltrator by being extra frosty. He hit the alarm before the dogs
even made the thing. Truth is, he was jerk. Quite, and a real hard arse. But he
was a hero. Because of him only 12 people died that day.
It's
no surprise that Phil was the first one to hear it. He flicked a pebble at Jeff
and they both choked up on their weapons. Through the cut outs they could see
the guys in the Cold Room doing the same. Beyond that were the Door Gods. They
were the first line of defense. They were switched every two to three hours and
were hard-core military. Jeff's blood ran hot as the silence of the night gave
way to the distant whine of engine. Phil hit the warning button. Behind the Hot
Door the off duty dogs would be joined in moments by the rest of today's door
crew.
This was
too weird. The moon was out. Traveling by moonlight was just nuts! Especially
with fresh snow out! But whoever this was had a motor. Gas driven by the sound
of it. That wasn't how machines traveled. The motor cut off in the distance.
Whoever it was, was following protocol. A few minutes later they heard the
crunching sound of tires under snow as the stranger pushed the ATV up to the
Door Gods. Then there was a voice. Jeff and Phil hadn't heard anything like it
for a long time. It was gravel in a blender speaking with base tones. The Door
Gods approved, and a Cloaked figure stepped into the Cold Room. The dogs gave
him a sniff… and then something even weirder happened. One growled a
little, the other whined and the both started backing away. Jeff tightened up
on the trigger and quickly glanced at Phil. Phil held his trembling hand up,
palm open and facing him… If Phil pointed…. They would both open
fire!
The
handlers in the Cold Room were nervous too. Alex finally spoke up after what seemed like an eternity…
" Dogs don't like you, Mister."
The Cloaked figure looked at the dogs and then that
gravelly voice responded.
"Dogs don't hate me either. Got a message for the
General from Global Ops."
Alex pointed his gun at the stranger's head.
"Too risky, You wait here."
"Fine."
There was a little hiss as the stranger sucked air over his tongue, then that
voice replied, "Send the kid with Browning. He's making me nervous and
he'll move faster than the one with the cold."
Jeff and Phil looked at each other wide eyed…