Malachi spent a few days selling the bigger items in the apartment. Then he packed away the stuff he knew Malia would miss and drove it to a storage place.
He couldn’t bring himself to sell the car. She loved that damn car. He bribed Adam to let him park it in his garage.
By the end of the week, he was on his way to the training camp.
Portal Response training lasted three months. Training camps were everywhere now, usually crammed up next to a military base or squatting on some former farm. Three months of training wasn’t nearly enough given the diversity of threats that could emerge, but the US was getting hammered by portals at a higher rate than most countries, and they needed a lot of people fast. Local militias had formed quickly in the early days, but even the ones that were effective weren’t enough.
At least unemployment was down.
The day they finished, everyone went to the mess hall to throw a party. There wasn’t supposed to be alcohol on base, but it was already tradition of the sergeants to look the other way for this one day.
Malachi headed to the gym instead and started on the treadmill. For the others, drinking and talking might be relaxing, but for Malachi, there was something about throwing around heavy weights that finally quieted his mind. The vast gym was empty, except for a TV quietly playing the news.
“…authorities have now called for the cessation of all boat traffic on Lake Michigan, and told people to stay extremely cautious while on its shore. We turn now to Dave, live in Milwaukee. Dave?”
“That’s right, Sandra. You can see behind me, the docks are closed.”
The camera zoomed dramatically towards some caution tape being guarded by a bored looking cop.
“There’s a lot of angry workers and angry companies about this closure, but ever since a lingering portal opened up in the deep waters, monsters have been coming through. Despite efforts to exterminate them, there’s now a self-sustaining population of magical serpents. While they mostly eat the fish and smaller animals also coming through the portal, we’ve seen five ship attacks in just the last two weeks. These serpents can use lightning magic, and you do not want to be on a boat when a fifty foot serpent is shooting lightning at you.”
They went on about the topic for a bit, but it was old news. Malachi moved to the bench press and started loading up the bar with weight. He couldn’t quite bench 300 pounds yet, but he was close.
“Thanks Dave,” the anchor was saying. “And now to the next item in our series on lingering portals. This last portal is probably the most notorious in the country: it’s the one dubbed ‘the Jurassic portal.’ No one working on a Great Plains farm ever thought they’d have to deal with an encroaching jungle and dinosaur attacks picking off their herds. Jimothy Jordan was there when the first ankylosaurus wandered out…”
There’s no way that’s his name, Malachi thought as he moved to his second set.
As he exercised, the special report ended and the recent news played again. A portal had opened up inside a prison in Mississippi. Either slavers had taken everyone, or the prisoners had all gone willingly. Either way, most of the guards were dead and the response teams had been so lethargic they’d only arrived on the scene after a full four days had passed, which had precipitated a political scandal. Meanwhile, in California, a forest fire was raging, and there was a debate on whether or not the governor could order Portal Response to assist with the fires, since it was suspected a red portal had caused the fire in the first place. We’re being trained in firearms and spear formations, not firefighting, Malachi thought.
As he finished up his workout, the TV blared with stories that might as well have just been broadcast from a month ago. The Critical Infrastructure Defense Initiative, which had been designed to create new manufacturing capacity and robust supply chains, had again failed to deliver. Infrastructure had been a problem before portals had started opening up across the country. The increased demand pressures coupled with constant attacks had led to rolling brownouts across the country had crippled it further, and that was just leading to a spiraling crash in productivity. There had been periodic food shortages, which had led to hoarding, which had led to laws against hoarding alongside worse food shortages, which had led to civil unrest, which had led to several shootouts between militias and the Feds, which had led to more unrest….
It was getting bad. And it seemed to Malachi it was only going to get worse. He showered, changed, then headed for the cafeteria.
Predictably, a bunch of drunk twenty-something year olds celebrating graduating from portal response training were loud and obnoxious. Malachi tried to grab his food without being noticed, but Mason said, “Heeey! There he is! Mal! Come on over!”
Malachi shook his head, grabbed a tray of grub, and headed outside to eat alone. It was cold as balls outside, but Malachi just figured the frigid temperature would help build character or something.
William came outside holding a beer can and sat next to him. “Yo,” he said.
“I dealt with enough of the partying type in college. I’m over it,” he said.
William sighed. “Yeah, man, I gochu. Just wanted to check in, you know?”
“I’m fine,” Malachi said, chewing the meatloaf. It was terrible meatloaf. Malia’s meatloaf was way better.
“Yeah, you say that every time, and I still think it’s bullshit. I don’t think any of us are fine, with all this crap going around, yeah?” He took a sip from his beer. “Man, I know you don’t wanna deal with our drunk asses, but here’s the thing—it’s not about that. It’s about being brothers. Or sisters. Camaraderie, or whatever. Bonding. We got something to celebrate, so we celebrate it together. You get it?”
“I don’t,” Malachi said. “I remember going to my college graduation. All these people were crying and cheering, and I just didn’t get it. All those classes I took were bullshit easy. The biggest dumbasses I knew who slacked off were also on that stage with me. So what the hell had I accomplished? Feels the same now. Besides, we’re all going to get split up.” Or die, he didn’t say.
“Yeah, nah. Sarge already told us deployments when he was handing out beers. You, me, Jason, Juan, and Mason, we’re all heading to Northwest HQ-22 together. I ain’t gonna tell you to loosen up a little, but, you know, just come chill, yeah?”
“I’m good,” Malachi said. He knew he was being a dick, and that William didn’t deserve this, but he’d made his choice. He didn’t have control over much, but he could control this, so he would. The others didn’t get it. He’d fight hard with them, but he didn’t want to get close to them. Getting close to someone was how you got hurt.
William took another sip of beer. He sat there for a bit, then stood. “Offer’s always open,” he said, then headed back inside.
Malachi finished eating outside, then headed back to his bunk. Through the window, he could hear the rest of them shouting and talking loudly. He deliberately tuned it out, reading news articles and wiki updates on his phone. Every time he saw something about a yellow portal, he felt his emotions churn, but he suppressed it. That was what you did with emotions; buried them so they couldn’t screw with you.
The next day, everyone else was dealing with hangovers and he wasn’t. He felt only a little smug about it.
It didn’t take long for the orders William had told him about to become official.
That afternoon, he was on his way back to the west coast towards Northwest 4th Region HQ-22.
***
Several Portal Response Teams out west had been decimated. Malachi watched the video of it on the flight over. The teams had been pinned in place when, after responding to a brown portal, a second portal had opened up two blocks behind them. Fire-breathing turtles ridden by lizard creatures that waved around bone-decorated staffs and commanded skeletons around had surrounded them. The APCs and tank had broken through, but not before they’d lost a lot of people.
Portal Response Local HQ-22 had gotten three days of bereavement. By the time Malachi and the others arrived, they would be back on call again.
The headquarters had been built right next to the fire station, and its fortifications had wrapped around that building too. Its structure was similar: a large garage, with living quarters on top. The difference was, instead of fire engines they had two armored personnel carriers and a light tank. The walls were reinforced concrete, and the windows were covered in thick bars that alternated between steel and ceramic. Some of the mages and monsters had magic that could bend metal, so mixing materials was key to a proper defense. The APC and tank armors also used this layering approach, with both steel and composite armors.
The HQ had enough beds for fifty people, which included all the infantry, commanders, and support staff. There was also an armory, kitchen, and enough supplies to last them all a month, though they’d all get real sick of beans if it came to that.
When they arrived, Malachi picked a bed closest to the stairs then hit the gym. He didn’t say anything besides the perfunctory greetings to his new team.
“Nah, he’s just like that,” he overheard William saying to the local corporal.
When he was done with the gym, he found the training room and practiced with his spear, then he showered and went to the rec room. As usual, he timed it so the rest of the group was eating so no one would bother him.
The TV was on the news. It was always on the damn news these days. He thought about turning it off, but he never could bring himself to. He had to know.
“—can you tell us about red portals, Dr. Chavez?” the anchor was saying.
Dr. Chavez was wearing a lab coat. What, is he going to play with a chemistry set while on air? Malachi thought. Chavez had a rich, deep voice that didn’t seem to match his thinner frame. “Well, red portals seem to be primarily associated with fire creatures and demons. Often, it’s a demonologist responsible for opening it. They tend to stay on the other side of the portal now that they’ve learned what our weapons can do, but you’re likely to see imps, arachnitaurs, and iron quills. You can also expect standard geomagical changes. The rocks nearby will transform into igneous variants, and you might see ashlands flora start to grow. Some of these flora can be toxic to be close to, so obviously, all civilians are asked to stay away.”
Malachi could have told the news anchor that. Hell, a fifth grader could have.
The conversation went on like that, but just as Malachi was about to change the channel, the conversation took an interesting turn. “So, Dr. Chavez, your team has been working on ways to influence the portals, is that right?”
“That’s right. The lingering portals have been the easiest to investigate. Despite the beasts that can come out of them, those portals stay in the same location, so we can set up devices to monitor them. As your viewers no doubt know, this ‘magic’ we’ve been seeing is damn hard to study. Magic doesn’t interact with the electromagnetic spectrum in a way we understand yet, and we still don’t have a predictive theory of how standard model chemistry interacts with certain aspects of these magical creatures or devices that we’ve captured. Take, for example, a magic wand from this naga wizard that was killed near a turquoise portal; he had no issues casting disintegration spells with it, but we can’t get it to work. However, the more raiders we’re able to capture and kill, the more of their strange technology—if that’s what we can call it—we can recover. And the more likely it is we make a breakthrough.”
“That’s fascinating. And are you close to making a breakthrough?”
Dr. Chavez smiled at her. “We think so, though I’m afraid I’m not allowed to discuss the specifics of the research.”
“Wow. So you’re saying you have some classified magic stuff?”
“I can’t confirm or deny that, sadly,” he said. “Unfortunately, there’s still political barriers that prevent scientists from collaborating.”
“The Chinese have said they’ve made a breakthrough already. Any credibility to that claim?”
Chavez had been silky-smooth in his delivery before that question. Now, he hesitated. “All I can say is that I hope that more collaboration becomes possible. Earth’s security is a part of national security. These portals, they don’t respect borders.”
The conversation devolved into a vague back and forth where the news anchor made clear she didn’t like the idea of giving any other country data because it might be used against the US. Malachi turned it off, then headed for the kitchen, just as his colleagues were coming up.
He was just sitting down with his bowl of pasta when the alarm went off.
Malachi left his plate and had already strapped on his steel armor and grabbed his spear and rifle by the time the other infantry started to appear. He headed for his APC. The back was already open. He climbed in and waited for them to roll out.
Two, then three frustrating minutes ticked by as the team assembled. William sat next to Malachi, but Juan and Jason were a minute slower than they should have been.
The fortified garage door rumbled open, sirens blaring for the roads to clear.
As the last person ducked into the APC and slammed the door, the intercom popped on. “Howdy folks, this is Trey. I’ll be your APC driver today. Make sure your seat and tray tables are in an upright position, and strap in, these rides sometimes get rougher than a redneck’s roller coaster. Time to portal is roughly five minutes.”
The intercom cut out, then Corporal Booth, who would be leading Malachi’s ‘phalanx’ infantry squad, came on. “We have some variety of yellow portal. Intelligence thinks we can expect light infantry and mages, possibly using some sort of illusion magic. Maybe necromancy. All you new recruits, I hope you’re ready. We’ll be deploying into spread formation. Portal Teams 24, 25, and 40 are also responding, and our job is to hold and contain until they’re in position. Cameron, get a delivery package ready.” Cameron was the demolitions guy. He had rings around his eyes, which were bloodshot.
They bumped down the road, tension in the back building.
“Fuck,” said Jason. “I didn’t think we’d be in action this fast.”
“Get used to it,” said one of the older men. Introductions had been in the morning, but Malachi had forgotten his name already. He was one of the shields. “Response teams see an average of two incursions per week.”
A minute later, the intercom crackled on again. “This is Sergeant Nguyen. Because we have so many new members to Portal Squad 22, we’re deploying and assembling two blocks back. Show me a good formation, and remember your training. Nicole, APC-2 will advance with the formation. New folks, if you’ve forgotten already, Nicole is your friendly neighborhood machine gunner. She’s got your backs.”
They continued on. Another minute passed. Malachi could see the new recruits all gripping their spears and shields with white knuckles. He himself was clenching and unclenching his jaw, but it was more out of anticipation.
“Sergeant Nguyen again. Drones are providing recon overhead, but it looks like there’s a sandstorm coming out of the portal, so expect limited visibility. Squads 24 and 25 will be approaching from the north, ETA 5 minutes. Squad 40 is coming in from the south, ETA 10 minutes. Thirty seconds until deployment.” A pause. “Fifteen seconds. Ten. Deploy.”
The back of the APC burst open. Malachi joined his formation. Time for some payback, he thought, as he headed into his first real battle.
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