Read Online Opposing Force: Book 01 - The God Particle by Anthony Decosmo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anthony Decosmo
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Facility was all about, but one thing was for certain: they did not call him all the way to the boondocks of Pennsylvania for target practice. At least the situation was not an emergency; the rest of the Archangel unit would not arrive for another twenty-four hours.
His ride moved into the compound proper. The grounds were shaded by trees, most of which had exploded into brilliant autumn colors. Red, orange, and yellow foliage decorated the scene. Piles of leaves congregated under trees and fence posts; wind gusts carried handfuls through the air.
In the distance, rising above the kaleidoscope of colors, was an old radar dome atop a concrete roof, the only part of the research facility visible from any sort of distance, sort of like a dorsal fin warning of a lurking shark.
A guard station marked the main gate. The soldiers there eschewed military BDUs for rent-a-cop costumes. Two hundred yards further in stood parallel rows of small, identical cabins arranged in orderly lines like a regiment of marines assembling. They reminded Gant of the cabins he had stayed in at camp as a kid. That thought caused a few beads of sweat to pop up on his neck in memory of the brutal heat of Georgia summers long past.
As they drove along a dirt road toward the heart of the facility, Major Gant spied a few squat buildings scattered about, most likely housing power generators or ventilation equipment for the underground portion of the complex, although he could not rule out more arcane purposes. He also saw a large rectangle of clear-cut forest where two big landing pads stood ready to welcome helicopters.
The main building was rather anticlimactic, a bunker of a facility in a concrete frame trying its best to hide among the trees. This made it difficult for Thom to discern the size of the complex's surface footprint. The front appeared to stretch one hundred yards wide and at least as deep.
He did not see any guards walking the paths crisscrossing the grounds, yet Thom was not fooled. No doubt sensors had detected the approach of his vehicle and several well-disguised cameras probably focused on him at that very moment.
The SUV pulled to a stop in a dirt, grass, and gravel parking area where a handful of unremarkable sedans and cars sat idle.
Gant asked Corporal Sanchez, "How many sublevels? Four?"
"I’m sorry, sir. The lieutenant colonel can answer all your questions."
He had not really expected an answer, but Thom wanted to ask the question anyway, if only to gauge Sanchez's reaction. In this case, the young man seemed trained to know the limits of his role and disciplined enough to avoid his own natural curiosity, as was evident by the fact that Sanchez had not asked Major Gant one single question during the entire drive over from Williamsport.
Both men exited the vehicle. Sanchez opened the rear doors of the Chevy and retrieved the major's baggage.
"Sir, shall I take your gear to your room?"
"Where’s that?"
"Number 115." Sanchez pointed away from the main building. Thom followed his finger and saw a path through the overgrowth leading to the first row of cabins.
"Yes, thank you, that will be fine."
The facility's front door opened and a female officer with short blond hair walked out and along the slate path in his direction. She wore an army green uniform with the slacks as opposed to the skirt that was optional for female officers.
As she approached he noted the silver oak leaf on her collar. His back instinctively stiffened and his arm rose in a sturdy salute, although mentally he remained at ease. It seemed his body remembered the procedure with the muscle memory of riding a bike, but these days his spirit lagged a step behind.
She returned the courtesy and then extended a hand, which he accepted, and he was surprised at how well she matched the strength of his shake.
"Major Gant? I’m Lieutenant Colonel Liz Thunder. Welcome to Hell Hole."
"At your service, Colonel."
She gestured toward the front entrance and the
His ride moved into the compound proper. The grounds were shaded by trees, most of which had exploded into brilliant autumn colors. Red, orange, and yellow foliage decorated the scene. Piles of leaves congregated under trees and fence posts; wind gusts carried handfuls through the air.
In the distance, rising above the kaleidoscope of colors, was an old radar dome atop a concrete roof, the only part of the research facility visible from any sort of distance, sort of like a dorsal fin warning of a lurking shark.
A guard station marked the main gate. The soldiers there eschewed military BDUs for rent-a-cop costumes. Two hundred yards further in stood parallel rows of small, identical cabins arranged in orderly lines like a regiment of marines assembling. They reminded Gant of the cabins he had stayed in at camp as a kid. That thought caused a few beads of sweat to pop up on his neck in memory of the brutal heat of Georgia summers long past.
As they drove along a dirt road toward the heart of the facility, Major Gant spied a few squat buildings scattered about, most likely housing power generators or ventilation equipment for the underground portion of the complex, although he could not rule out more arcane purposes. He also saw a large rectangle of clear-cut forest where two big landing pads stood ready to welcome helicopters.
The main building was rather anticlimactic, a bunker of a facility in a concrete frame trying its best to hide among the trees. This made it difficult for Thom to discern the size of the complex's surface footprint. The front appeared to stretch one hundred yards wide and at least as deep.
He did not see any guards walking the paths crisscrossing the grounds, yet Thom was not fooled. No doubt sensors had detected the approach of his vehicle and several well-disguised cameras probably focused on him at that very moment.
The SUV pulled to a stop in a dirt, grass, and gravel parking area where a handful of unremarkable sedans and cars sat idle.
Gant asked Corporal Sanchez, "How many sublevels? Four?"
"I’m sorry, sir. The lieutenant colonel can answer all your questions."
He had not really expected an answer, but Thom wanted to ask the question anyway, if only to gauge Sanchez's reaction. In this case, the young man seemed trained to know the limits of his role and disciplined enough to avoid his own natural curiosity, as was evident by the fact that Sanchez had not asked Major Gant one single question during the entire drive over from Williamsport.
Both men exited the vehicle. Sanchez opened the rear doors of the Chevy and retrieved the major's baggage.
"Sir, shall I take your gear to your room?"
"Where’s that?"
"Number 115." Sanchez pointed away from the main building. Thom followed his finger and saw a path through the overgrowth leading to the first row of cabins.
"Yes, thank you, that will be fine."
The facility's front door opened and a female officer with short blond hair walked out and along the slate path in his direction. She wore an army green uniform with the slacks as opposed to the skirt that was optional for female officers.
As she approached he noted the silver oak leaf on her collar. His back instinctively stiffened and his arm rose in a sturdy salute, although mentally he remained at ease. It seemed his body remembered the procedure with the muscle memory of riding a bike, but these days his spirit lagged a step behind.
She returned the courtesy and then extended a hand, which he accepted, and he was surprised at how well she matched the strength of his shake.
"Major Gant? I’m Lieutenant Colonel Liz Thunder. Welcome to Hell Hole."
"At your service, Colonel."
She gestured toward the front entrance and the
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