Chapter 6

The Night That Robbie Died.

A Surrealistic Interrogation

Hands grabbed him under his arms. Robbie felt himself lifted from the floor. He could hear the Marine who had sucker punched him nearby. His captors treated him roughly. Willing himself to look, Robbie was able to change the tilt of his head a few inches. Wanting to keep his recovery a secret, Robbie let his head go slowly limp.

The sergeant called from across the room. "Todd, Brady, the Darjee want us to process this one."

"Yes, sergeant," came a voice came from Robbie's right.

The way the two Marines were handling him changed. Motions became more fluid, less disrupting. In the jostling, he was able to see the name, Brady, written on the lapel of the Marine who had answered.

The one who had to be Todd added, "Yeah, soon he will be parroting what the masters' want." The two Marines chuckled glibly.

Brady stopped laughing first. "Let's get him over to the pad."

As they moved Robbie's body toward the pad, the room reoriented in his view. Robbie watched the pad come closer.

"Do we need to chip him again?" Todd's voice came across whiney. "You know teleporting interferes with the overseer protocols."

Robbie recalled the sergeant zapping him with something.

"Nah, the sergeant tagged him the second time when his woman was being test driven." That brought a round of laughs.

Robbie didn't want to become a slave. He thought he could move his fingers a bit. Then he remembered the sergeant had only stunned or what they called, 'tagged' him once. Robbie had a glimmer of hope. White, gold, and green tiles passed under his feet until a transport pad came into view. The floor changed in a sudden flash, an industrial type floor of dark metallic mesh that clanked and rang as they proceeded. Robbie smelled dust and feathers.

Screeching mixed with a series of clicks came over loud speakers. Robbie felt himself placed in an upright position. Hands started brushing dust and dirt away, straightening his shirt, and then tucking it into his back pants.

Robbie could feel his muscles again. He noticed that Todd had one of his pistols in his waistband, as a trophy. Standing him back up, neither Marine had him in a heavy grip. His other pistol waited, secure in Brady's belt. Robbie played along as they took him back down the corridor. With each step, his arms and legs responded more to his mind.

Robbie let them support him along the walkway. They entered a brightly lit room. Blinking to clear his eyes, he saw the Marines' master, a Darjee alien. Having features similar to a hawk, and the coloring of a Scrub Jay, blue, gray, white, and black feathers encompassed the head, dressed in flowing red metallic and shimmering bronze robes. Beady small eyes, black with no discernible pupil magnified the alien's presence. Twitching its head back and forth, the Darjee scanned its slaves.

The Darjee clicked and screeched again. Robbie's escort eased him into a kneeling posture.

"Yes my Lord," Todd answered. "It shall be done."

Both Marines bowed their heads, remaining in that position until a click caused movement.

Robbie initially felt pity for the two men. It changed to abject fury over what the Darjee was doing to humanity. He discovered the fury extended his control over his muscles.

Todd spoke, "Soon, Robbie, you will become one of us." A pat on his shoulder seemed welcoming. "Master Garuda has decided you shall be part of his Janissary Corps."

Standing him back up, Robbie faked a stumble. "Sorry," he mumbled while he leaned into Todd. He grabbed feebly, using just his arms, trying to remain upright. Todd moved to support him. Robbie slid his arm to the right, snatching the pistol. Neither Marine noticed his action.

Time slowed. Robbie knew he had to act with a singular focus. He slid the barrel up Todd's torso. He pulled the trigger somewhere high in the solar plexus. When he felt the barrel slip between a pair of ribs, he pulled the trigger again. Nudging the dying man over, he whirled and fired one shot at Brady, it entered the Marine's neck. Brady crumpled, trying to stanch the blood flow. Robbie knew better than to take chances. Stepping forward, he fired once into Brady's exposed ear.

Screeching that hurt his ears forced Robbie to turn toward the sound. The alien birdman ran through a nearby door. Robbie toyed with chasing after it, but he needed to escape. He leaned over Brady's body. Reaching down, he grabbed his second pistol. Robbie fled back down the hall.

A flash from a transporter pad came from the doorway at the end of the hall. Maybe a way out, Robbie bolted for the opening. Two steps from the doorway he met the loudmouth black sergeant who wanted to fuck his ex-slut. Every bit of Robbie's training screamed for a shot into the sternum. Robbie adjusted the gun at the last second. One shot to the teeth, wiping that smile away forever. Then one center mass, just to be sure. Robbie charged over the crumpled form. Inside the room were two more Marines. Unable to take proper aim, Robbie fired three rounds from each pistol as he entered. Both men slumped to the floor. Time was of the essence. A whooping alarm began to wail.

Alone in the room with dead Marines, Robbie checked his options. In the center of the room, a circular blue pad glowed ominously. Robbie felt confident that this was the room they teleported him to from Earth. He could hear footsteps approaching. Taking a chance, he stepped onto the swirling pad.

Robbie felt the shift, his vision blurred. Once he refocused, he found himself back at the university.

Into the hall sauntered a Marine carrying an equipment bag. He never knew what was about to happen. Robbie stepped quietly up to him. The Marine never stood a chance. Placing his pistol into the Marine's Adam's apple, he pulled the trigger twice. Grabbing the bag, Robbie rushed out of the room, down the hall, and into the parking lot. He sprinted to the van.

For two hours, Robbie drove aimlessly in and around the outskirts of Temple Terrace, making sure no one followed. He then parked the van behind his trailer. No lights were on. Robbie waited for anyone to appear. After twenty minutes, he eased into the barn. Covered by the darkness, he pushed the three-wheeler out of the barn and down the long driveway to the road.

Hopping on, he started the motor and headed cross-country toward the bivouac. He even doubled back twice at the overpass. Arriving at O'Grady's, he drove to the third Quonset hut.

He remembered to avoid the direct route by the old rusted out wrecker. Vietnam had taught some of those old how men to be deadly sneaky. He glanced at the hidden tripwire next to the Studebaker Golden Hawk. Robbie finally understood Colonel Jessop's joke about the car as he set the M-18 Claymore booby trap. This time of night, the pressure switches would be active. Robbie took time to scan the areas where they were located. After completing his serpentine route, Robbie stopped at the back door. Opening the external breaker box, he flipped the seventh switch from the top, on the left side, to the off position. Then he flipped the one opposite of that breaker to the on position. He counted to four then reversed the sequence.

Heading inside, he waved at Paul who was manning the door post. Robbie rushed past the campers to a late fifties panel van. Opening the double door, he stepped in. Once inside, Robbie closed the back doors. He flicked a hidden switch, changing the light color in the van to red. Pulling a hidden lever, he waited for the secret door to open. Stepping through the opening, he rushed to Vernon's room to report.

Knocking on the door, he waited. Robbie hadn't survived the last four hours only to die waking up his grandfather.

"Who the fuck is it?" He heard Vernon bellow.

"Vernon, it's me, Robbie."

Robbie could hear Vernon moving around. A light appeared at the bottom of the door. A giggle from a woman drifted into his ears. The door opened. Joyce was busy bobbing her head into the crotch of the Darjee from the ship, standing there looking at him. Those same gilded robes, no screech and clicks, just his grandfather Vernon's voice coming from the beak, "Robbie, you done fucked up."

Robbie screamed, but no sound came forth from his lips. Opening his eyes, coming to the realization he had just awoken from a bad dream. He found himself in an opaque tube. His brain ached, the dull drumming was similar to what he experienced during his last CAP testing. He still could not move. The tube opened. The big black sergeant patted Robbie's face.

"Thank you Robbie," the sergeant smiled. "The information you have just given us will be extremely valuable. The best part is that you rolled over on your own people willingly."

He lifted Robbie out of the tube with one hand gripping Robbie's upper right arm. It hurt, but he couldn't scream. His eyes began to tear up. Showing no fatigue, the sergeant carried Robbie down a white corridor. Within a minute, Sergeant Dumont dropped Robbie just inside the doorway of a twelve by eight room, near a transport pad.

"I heard enough of your mouth, earlier tonight." The sergeant grabbed Robbie's hair, turning his head to look him in the eyes. "AI, have the nanites give Robbie here control over his neck." A tingling sensation ran from Robbie's ears to his shoulders.

Sprawled on the floor, Robbie watched as the sergeant placed a chair in the center, of the pad. "You need to watch some live TV." Once again, the sergeant easily lifted Robbie from the floor. Roughly dropped into the chair, Robbie's ass throbbed in pain. He turned his head, following the sergeant. Robbie could move. He had hope. Then, nothing. Robbie could only turn his head.

The sergeant stepped in front of him, tapping his hand on the wall caused it to flash. "Look up here." Along that wall, a sixty or seventy inch screen divided into smaller screens. One larger screen showed O'Grady's from the air. "Watch and learn Robbie, watch and learn."

Robbie could see red-orange figures moving inside the Quonset hut. He couldn't make out any individuals. Guessing the identity of each person became a matter of where each individual was located in the building. Stationary items emitting heat, like the fridges and the air conditioner units on the campers, glowed in brighter yellow-whites than the people did. Blue dots began to enter the area. The smaller screens began to show different views of approaching the Quonset hut.

Robbie recognized the Studebaker on the screen. Hands reached behind the rear wheel. Fingers inserted a clip into the trip mechanism, rendering the Claymore inert. Every trap, every tripwire, the Marines removed each one. Slowly, Robbie realized he had given away each location. They had sucked his mind clean. The Marines encircled the Quonset hut.

Suddenly, the movement inside stopped. One of the smaller screens showed a gloved hand flipping the breakers, causing the back entrance to open.

The screens went blank. Robbie tried to look around. Next, the screens awoke. He could see his trailer from the air. Three red-orange forms lay huddled together in his oldest girl's room. Four blue forms began approaching the house.

Four of the lower screens came to life. Robbie saw his key ring in a gloved hand. The double deadbolts did little to secure his home. Joyce had to have shown them. Once in the living room, the Marines from the back came into view. Robbie wanted to shout to tell his girls to run. Down the hall crept the figures. A hand turned Edith's doorknob.

Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. Robbie wanted to kill. Powerless, he could only watch. A Marine had opened the hall closet, grabbing two blankets. Once he entered Edith's room, he handed one to another Marine. The screen zoomed into Dena's face, a hand scooping under her head.

The little screens went blank. Robbie shifted his attention to the large screen. This Marine began setting up a transporter pad in his living room.

The screen changed again. Robbie witnessed Brady standing in his living room, holding his youngest daughter, little Dena, and swaying. The view switched back to the Spic they called Ramirez. That Marine held his oldest Edith's hand saying something, there was no sound.

Edith seemed to beam brightly. She mouthed, 'Momma', then began to jump up and down. Ramirez knelt on both knees allowing Edith to hug his neck. Behind them, he could see his middle daughter Lilly's face over the shoulder of a swaying Marine. Scooping Edith into his arms, Ramirez stood, blocking his view of Lilly. One by one, the Marines stepped onto the transport pad, until his each of his three daughters vanished.

"Robbie," the voice belonged to the sergeant. "Joyce's girls are going with her." The sergeant moved, blocking Robbie's field of vision.

Robbie couldn't even curse at his tormentor. Light behind the sergeant flickered. Once he moved, Robbie could see the wall had become a single screen.

On that screen, Marines walked around prone bodies. The fuckers had stunned the freedom fighters. Hillsborough Deputy Sheriffs began collecting weapons and dragging fallen patriots toward the large open rollup doors.

The screen split lengthwise, one image was the interior of the Quonset hut, and the other was an image from the local twenty-four hour news station. Gina Martello, the local crime reporter, stood pointing at the entrance of O'Grady's Trucking. The words 'Thwarted Thonotosassa Terrorists' were plastered on the screen. Crawling across the screen were details of what they had planned. "Credit for tonight's raid and every arrest belongs to a confidential informant."

The sergeant knelt to be eye level with Robbie. "Joyce wanted her credit given to you. The spin given is that you have been feeding us information for six months." The sergeant moved, to the right, and Robbie could see Gina Martello again.

Robbie saw his picture in the upper corner of the screen. Sound erupted from the walls. "Confederacy sources said, Robert 'Robbie' Moore, a thirty-seven-year-old mechanic at O'Grady's Trucking, informed authorities of a plot to attack and kill as many potential volunteers as possible tomorrow during the Engineering Expo at The University of South Florida." Images of a body bag, handled by several deputies, flashed onto the screen. "It is believed that Robbie Moore was killed by the terrorists during the Confederacy raid." The image shrank to a pinpoint.

"Joyce asked for two things." The sergeant spoke very slowly and deliberately. "She wanted to go with the teacher, and she asked that her daughters have something to be proud of you for."

Waves of disbelief broke over Robbie. The bitch had fucked him over. His reputation lay ruined.

"You're a dead man." Cold, with no feeling, the sergeant's voice jerked Robbie out his thoughts. "The question is how."

The sergeant moved away. The floor flashed. Robbie felt his breath rush from his lungs. For seventeen seconds he watched the Earth below him. Robbie went into shock three-tenths of a second after he went blind. No one bothered to monitor how long his body survived.

Robbie's death was not a complete loss. Dropping him into a midrange orbit with little momentum caused his body to slowly burn as it fell. A group of Brownies from Troop 357, attending their first Jamboree in Oregon, was able to capture a shooting star on film. It helped them to win the scavenger hunt.