Chapter 553:

Curious, when he drove into the ruins of the Seven Palms, the blue smoke still rising from the ruins of the Seven Palms was filled. It seemed that it had been several years since he left the basin, but the wreckage of this small town only five miles away was still glum.
Colonel Culver yelled at him. "East," he said. "Swing east. There is fighting over there." Then, in his usual calm tone: "I will take the boat, Smith. Then there will be a sound or two from here, maybe the sheriff can help a little."
A desert road across the yellow sand. Ten miles away, the black smoke filled. Smith knew that there were already some settlements there. Maybe there are a dozen houses and a gas station. At half the distance, clear sunlight shows objects moving on the sand: cars, small moving spots. When the plane approached, they suddenly became clearly visible. The tiny white flame means that the rifle is on fire.
When Smith saw the first car disappear in the flames, they stood up a thousand feet higher. Others followed closely. The man fell. More than a dozen people formed the corpse of the sheriff. Now, like a car, they also caught fire, or disappeared completely, or were thrown on the beach like a living torch.
There was still no sign of the enemy, just a green flame stabbing on one side of the sand dune. They walked over, and then Smith looked back and saw the red leap in.
Must have seen them at the same moment. He lowered the security rate of the bank. When fully opened, they will turn and whip them, which means immediate death. From five miles away, they shot into the distance. The blacksmith's hand is gone. It's Culver's ship now.
He saw the man staring into his gaze, and then the roar of the motor made another sharper sound. The thin flame pierced the propeller disk, and he knew that the bow and arrow had sent the messenger in front, and the red figure was waiting on the beach.
Their trajectory becomes flat. When they flew overhead, Culver turned the boat halfway. "He wants to see them." Smith was thinking. Then a burst of heat hit him in the face.
It was Smith's hand that held the boat. Only the immediate response of large engines can tear them apart and stay away from the sand reaching those wings.
His face was burned, but knowing that they were drunk, twisted flight had extinguished the fire, licking back from the front cockpit, his pain was forgotten. He saw Culver's head fall awkwardly to the side. Part of the helmet was burnt.
He stabilized. He was thinking: "The other man is gone! Can't I fight back? If I only have a gun!" Then he knew he was looking at the pistol grip, where Colonel Culver's brown hand brought a clumsy weapon. His lips twisted with a whimsical smile, although his eyes still kept the same cold anger as he whispered: "And I don't even know that the stuff is full, but I will find it!"
When he roared above his head, Hey gathered on the beach below him. He is flying two thousand and the throttle is full. Beside the ship, a gun shook its barrel down. It splashed almost silently, but as it passed, sand rose in the fountain.
But his crazy speed made the gunshots almost useless. The shells exploded too far apart; they straddled the stain of numbers.
He slowly returned to five thousand feet until the ship overturned, and then he saw the tip of the right wing disappear into the molten metal. He threw the boat at the invisible beam. The plane twisted and twisted in the last half mile of the sky. When he pulled into a tight spiral, he was above them, and then he waved the pistol grip that controlled the gun until the dots in the crystal merged with the clustered red target. The gun splashed out.
Below the plane, this quiet desert suddenly lifted its smooth ground into the air. Even amid the roar of the motor, Smith heard the amazing thunder of the long explosion.
Above the edge of the front cockpit, Culver's head rolled restlessly; his voice was thick and uncertain, and he returned by phone. Then, just a few minutes away, despite being 50 miles apart, Smith landed the plane on the vast beach and tore his belt frantically. Colonel Culver raised his head faintly.
^
Did the hat hit us? "When Smith walked up to him, he asked: "Am I broken?" "He looked around with blank eyes. He never saw him again, just to protect his goggles.
"Fire," Smith said succinctly. "They did it, the devil, not a flamethrower. The green light of their cursed didn't flash. It just shook us for a second. You got the worst blow. Saved us. No matter what it was, It will tear off our left wing in a second."
He looked at the front cockpit where the metal fuselage melted. The leather cushion on the edge is black and burnt. Culver's helmet had protected him, but half of his face was burned, as if hit by a white flame.
"But we have some people: they know we can fight back..." Smith started, but knew that he turned a deaf ear to his speech. His passenger fell into a coma again.
He quickly disconnected his radio receiver and threw the emergency broadcast siren. A hundred miles in front of them, an invisible beam was delivering a discordant explosion. Then, with the throttle fully open, no matter how frantically the level and air traffic were torn from his path, he went straight to his hometown.
I
In the Governor’s Office, the radio newscaster announced last-minute concerns. Upon entering, the governor turned off the instrument and supported the tall colonel, whose face and head were bandaged. Culver insisted on accompany him to submit the report, although Smith had to speak for the two of them.
He summarized their experience in short sentences. "Now," he said sternly, "Governor, you can do whatever you want. Your fists are as big as a man. We don't know how many people there are. We don't know how fast they spread, but-"
He was interrupted by a harsh wailing. The news broadcast equipment emitted a burst of red light, filling the room. In the past year, crystals have been installed in all radios for emergency calls, but they have never been used, which attracted the attention of the country.
The governor suddenly turned on the power and tried to explain. He said, "This is no longer in my hands." "Washington has-" Then the radio rang:
"Emergency order. Attention all planes. Man"-Smith uttered a voice from the beginning. This is the name he gave himself: "The Moors are invading Western countries. A new race. They come from the inside of the earth. In Arizona, all three ships that traverse the continental line in the southern hemisphere were destroyed. Passengers and crews were all lost.
"This is a war, a war of unknown race. Goldfield, Nevada, is in ruins. Serious loss of life. Federal government control. The Air Traffic Control Commission ordered traffic to avoid the following areas..."
Followed by a series of locations, and the red crystal is still on the entire land and warning all aircraft in the sky. Southern California, Nevada, Arizona-Southern Continental Continental Airlines has been closed; except for military aircraft parked in the restricted area.
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Missy's excitement caused him to leave. In his mind, he looked into the distance, in the depths of the world. "They've been there," he said quietly, "it's been thousands of years. A new game-they just learned about the world outside. Three ships have come down! Do it with us. I know between us There is a fight."
In the room where the new announcer was providing the list of the dead, his voice disappeared. It was a silent room. But Smithy's eyes stared into the distance and saw nothing. He once again sat on a breaking point of the rock, beside him, from a person's voice clearly emanating from the depths of black, it seemed to be mockingly in the singing:
"You are struggling in hell
And bragging is too damn,
Because when you go to hell, you will find
The devil there has to pay! "
"The devil is there," Smithy repeated quietly. He leaned over and put a hand on Colonel Culver's knee. "Colonel, with your assistance, I want to go down there and find him. You and I, as we all know, we will organize an expedition. Maybe we can settle this debt."
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