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chuckled as
he looked in the direction Cole pointed. A small pack of Primals moved along a
street, the wind battering their clothing, knocking them left and right as they
moved into the thick mass, probably drawn out by the sounds of the storm.
Turner watched the massive cloud grow; they would need to take shelter if it
did not change direction. He looked down at the satellite phone resting on a
small bench. The signal strength was still spotty, fading in and out. That was
the only reason he was up on the roof to begin with. It had been nearly
twenty-four hours since it was recovered from the capsule. They kept it powered
on and used the vehicles to charge it; still, with the fading signal, Turner
was skeptical it would ring at all.
    He took the phone
in his hand and looked at the display. Even on the roof, with a clear view of
the sky, he was having trouble getting two small bars and now the battery was
down to twenty percent. “Might be time to call it a day and button up for this
storm,” he said. “Hard enough to stay clean without these damn sandstorms
pushing grit into every crack on my body.”
    Cole looked away
from the binoculars. “We got some time; they might call, and we don’t want to
miss it.”
    Turner picked up
the phone and turned it in his hand, considering powering it off and storing
it. Suddenly the phone began to buzz. Turner looked up at Cole, flashing his tobacco-stained
teeth. The receiver showed an encrypted number on the display. Turner carefully
held it in his hand and pushed the green “answer” button before holding the
phone to his ear. Turner had spent the last twenty-four hours rehearsing what
he would say; he memorized a series of questions that he would ask. This was,
after all, their first contact with the outside world since it all went to hell.
    Now, with the phone
to his ear, Turner’s mind drew blank and he stuttered, “H-hello?”
    “This is
Lieutenant Colonel James Cloud of the Coordinated National Response Team. What
is the status of your party?” a formal voice responded.
    “Wha—huh?” Turner
mumbled.
    “Are you in
command?” Cloud asked.
    “Uhh… yeah—yes…
yes, sir.”
    “And what is
your status?” Cloud asked, his voice softening.
    “We’re alive, I
guess; I don’t understand what you are asking.”
    “Who am I
speaking with?” Cloud said.
    “Oh right—this is
Sergeant First Class Turner, Echo Company, Second Brigade, well, what’s left of
it.”
    “And how many
are with you, Sergeant Turner?”
    “Ahh… there’s ten
of us—soldiers, I mean, but I also got lots of local nationals under our care.”
    “Listen up,
Sergeant Turner; I don’t have a lot of time before we lose the signal. We are
en route and will be arriving south of your position in less than twenty-four hours.
We will be landing on the Hairatan road on the south approach to the city;
satellite and drone surveillance shows a clear stretch large enough for our
aircraft. Do you understand?”
    “Wait… you’re
coming for us?”
    “Sergeant, at
twelve hundred hours tomorrow, your men must be standing by; we can only remain
on the ground for a short time. Refueling has to be spot on for this to work
and we only have so much fuel; we have to stay on schedule. If you are not
ready to board after we roll to a stop, we will not be able to stay on the
ground and wait for you. Have your men ready; pack only yourselves, your
personal weapons systems, and one three-day bag.”
    “But, sir, I got
more people here—”
    “I will have
seats open and a weight allowance for twenty-five personnel—you figure it out, Sergeant.
Twelve hundred hours, tomorrow, do you understand?”
    “Uhh, yes, sir,”
Turner said.
    “Good, activate
this phone again when you are on location south of the city. Cloud out.” The phone clicked dead.
    Turner lowered the
phone from his ear then used his thumb to press the button, ending the call. Cole
pushed in close to him excitedly.
    “Well, what did he
say?”