17 The Battle for New York (2/2)
”Mr President, I urgently request a minute of your time.”
”Of course,” Nelson Odongo said instantly, thus making clear it was him that decided who could and could not leave the room.
Carlton Brock nodded politely to everyone in the room, and left. He closed the door and said to Brody:
”Jesus, Chief. You look real worried. What's up?”
Brody swallowed, and said:
”Good news or bad?”
”Good,” said Brock, and forced himself to smile to improve morale. Brody said:
”The first of the teams we sent out are back. They've been as far as Trenton, Allentown, and Bridgeport. There have been six cubes located so far. As per your instructions, sir, they've been put under guard to prevent access by members of the public.”
”Sounds good,” said Brock. ”Okay, let's have the bad news.”
”The public doesn't like it. Things have already got out of control in a number of locations. Unfortunately, that includes New York City. I have six men dead, sir. We're fighting running gun battles in Queens and Bronx and we've got firearm incidents all over town. We've asked Fort Hamilton to lend us full support. Unfortunately no vehicles are in working orders, and reinforcements are proceeding on foot.”
”Can't they ride a fucking train? There's half a dozen working railroad engines at the Museum of Steam, and railroad tracks all over the goddamn place.”
”The tracks are all blocked, sir.”
”Fuck!”
”Yes, sir. Sir, it is my sad duty to ask you for written authorization of deadly force by whatever means are deemed appropriate by the commanders in the field. Sir.”
”What? They want to use fucking artillery or something? Can't they just shoot the bad guys?”
”The military commanders want the option, sir.”
Carlton Brock sighed.
”Okay,” he said. ”Okay. You got it prepared? Where do I sign?”
A few miles from Carlton Brock, Li Yang thought: okay. Okay. I'm not going anywhere today. You can stop shooting, guys.
He stepped back from the front door to his apartment block. When he'd opened it a few seconds earlier, at least two different guns fired at him. Luckily, the gunmen were poor shots: the bullets hit the wall to the side of the entrance.
Li Yang began climbing the stairs to get back to his room. On the way, he tried to imagine reasons why anyone would want to kill him. All right, maybe when he was returning home laden with loot - that made some kind of sense. But going out? Leaving the building empty-handed? What was the matter with people? Had they all gone crazy?
Twenty kilometers west of Li Yang, someone in the crowd surrounding a glowing cube shot one of the policemen on guard. The remaining policemen started shooting into the crowd. But it was a very well-armed crowd, as crowds often are in gun-loving America. Within a few seconds, a regular battle was going on.
Ten kilometers north of Li Yang, two gangs settled old accounts with all the firepower at their disposal. The firepower included military-grade assault rifles. There also was a rocket launcher complete with several rockets, a few grenades, and many Molotov cocktails. Within a minute, a quiet street was turned into a stage set for a war movie. But both the shots and the screams were for real.
One kilometer east of Li Yang, a homeless man kneeling on the ground looked at the grinning teenager pointing a handgun at his head.
”Stop peeing yourself with excitement,” he said to the gunman. ”Just do it. Go on, you stupid cunt. Just do it now.”
So the kid did it. And so did a lot of other people.
By nightfall, the fighting had spread all over the city.
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