Chapter 54

Joe and his army were nearing the soaring white towers of the wind farm when they heard the irritating buzz of the incoming drones.

“Move,” Joe shouted, pointing to a low stone wall and a small building with garage-style doors. “Take cover.”

Racing forward, Joe reached the base of the nearest wind tower just as the first armed marauder closed in. This drone was larger than the reconnaissance drone they’d knocked out of the sky earlier, with six rotors instead of four, and a small-caliber rifle mounted to the underside.

It raced past, making a pop, pop, pop sound.

“Get down,” Joe shouted. Bullets pinged off the tower and ricocheted off the wall. One of the men shouted in pain as he dropped to the ground, clutching his leg. Another of the men grabbed him and pulled him down into the ditch beside the wall, covering him up as a second drone made a similar pass.

Joe had expected the drones to stay high and have trouble with the wind tower’s spinning blades, but they’d come in low, avoiding the blades and crossing the field of view so rapidly it was impossible to hit them with an arrow, spear, or explosive.

Joe looked around for a better weapon. All he could find was a long-handled shovel, but he thought it just might do. He pulled it from the tower wall and waited for the next drone to make a pass. Pressing himself against the white-painted metal of the tower, he listened to the machine closing in. It seemed to be on the exact same path as the previous one.

It fired at the men behind the wall. Pop, pop, pop .

At the sound of the third shot, Joe stepped out from behind the tower, swinging the shovel like a lacrosse stick, his arms stretched to their full length.

The head of the shovel clanged into the passing drone, cleaving one wing from the machine like a sword, even as the shovel was ripped from his grasp.

Hands ringing, Joe followed the tumbling shovel and the drone he’d knocked out of the sky. They went careening into a strand of oleanders, with the drone ending up caught in the branches. Two of its rotors were still spinning. It shook and twisted like a fish out of water.

Joe rushed over to finish it off, grabbing the shovel off the ground and smashing the plastic body. The rotors stopped instantly. The LEDs on the housing went dark.

He was about to smash it again for good measure when he realized the weapon it carried was not a purpose-built aerial cannon but an M4 carbine. The rifle had been cleverly wedged into the body and hooked up to an actuator that pulled the trigger. Attached to the bottom was a circular drum of ammunition.

With the next drone closing in on him, Joe broke the weapon free, turned toward the approaching target, and opened fire. Unable to turn fast enough to track the spreading drone, he never caught up with it and cursed himself for wasting the ammunition. As another drone dove toward them, he aimed out in front of it, unleashing a hail of fire and stitching a line of bullets right across the flight path.

He clipped this machine, and it flew off, shedding parts and crashing a half mile down the hill. Too far off to retrieve. Still, it was two down and one to go. And Joe liked his odds.

Unknown to Joe, TAU had come to a similar conclusion and the third drone climbed into the sky, holding position a thousand feet up and a quarter mile away. Joe assumed it was waiting for aerial reinforcements, but the call from one of Kai’s men suggested a different avenue of attack.

“They’re coming for us.”

Just beyond where the drone had crashed, three different groups of men were double-timing it toward the wind farm. Joe guessed their number at fifty or sixty. He checked the drum connected to the M4, counting twelve shots remaining. He knew their little invasion had reached its high-water mark.

“Time to get back to our side of the island,” he called out. “Carry the wounded. Let’s go.”

Joe waved them by, holding the M4 and dividing his attention between the approaching mob and the circling drone. Suddenly, gunfire rang out behind him. Swinging around he saw a half dozen of Kai’s people go down in rapid succession. Some scattered. Others dove to the grass.

Joe saw muzzle flashes at the top of the ridge. Standing on a boulder directing the fire like Napoleon or Rommel was the Overseer.

Joe charged forward, firing toward the crest of the hill. His aim was decent, all things considered, and the men he was firing at ducked out of sight. The Overseer, on the other hand, never left his rock. Joe could see him cursing and berating his men for their cowardice as Kai’s people raced for safety.

“Perfect,” Joe said.

He dropped into a sniper’s prone position, steadied the weapon, and focused on the man he considered a raging lunatic. Breathing out, he pulled the trigger. It clicked softly, but nothing happened. He was out of ammunition.