Authors: Michael Rusch
Within seconds, a surge of fire
consumed the jeep making the dark alley seem as bright as the sun-scorched day.
Brandon set his teeth in a
straight line and watched the flames consume the dead within. Mel stepped next
to him from the shadows and joined him in watching the blaze.
She reached over to his bloody
hands and gently took the tire iron from his grip. Brandon didn’t look at her.
He continued only to stare at the fire. Mel opened her fingers and let the tire
iron drop softly next to them along the ground.
Both stared intently into the
flames. Neither flinched or even looked away when the fuel tank exploded in a
violent ball of fire.
With their hands at their sides,
they stood rigidly still and watched them burn.
The elevator chimed softly when
its cabin touched the ground floor. Its light unobtrusive tone was lost amidst
the wails of sirens and the shouts of stampeding soldiers. Smaller explosions
from the top of the building rocked the facility further adding to the mayhem.
The elevator doors rolled gently
open. As they did, Kirken dove to the floor. For the moment, no one noticed him
at the bottom of the cabin.
He stayed there several minutes
watching the panicked throngs of soldiers running through the armory halls.
When the doors began to close back shut, Kirken stood slowly and stepped
carefully outside.
He had moved only partway
through the doors when a heavy strafing of bullets shredded the elevator wall
just above his head.
“Son of a bitch!" Kirken
screamed and hurled himself back onto the elevator deck. He snatched his Sunszk
weapon from its holster and opened fire into the hallway. A group of guards
shoved their way through the panicked personnel jamming the hallways and rushed
towards him.
Kirken kept his finger across
his weapon's trigger and continued to fire.
His shots dropped the frontmost
soldier before he reached the elevator, but scores of others charged from
behind to replace him. The soldier’s body was quickly swallowed up and trampled
by the scared crowd running through the halls.
Kirken continued firing. A
barrage of exploding slugs tore into a fire extinguisher mounted on the
corridor wall just above his head sending a spray of white foam into the
hallway.
Kirken rolled forward into the
layer of cold froth along the ground. Constant fire roared from his weapon. He
squirmed beneath the cover of the thick white substance and squinted to see
through the stinging pain it brought to his eyes.
Three more soldiers almost upon
him jerked back at the suddenness of their open wounds and fell to the floor.
Those following at their backs ducked behind doors and around corners to escape
Kirken's fire.
Kirken slithered through the
blanket of foam like a giant white snake away from the elevator cabin.
He stood and ran down the
corridor to his right while holding his weapon over his head and shooting
blindly behind his back. Giant clumps of white foam flew away from his feet
with each step. The corridor walls behind him obliterated and crumbled down in
violent spurts. Exploding weapons rounds from his attackers traced a path at
his feet and ripped the floor up around him.
Kirken turned another corridor
and sprinted deeper into the building. His legs churning faster and his breath
coming in panicked hurried gasps, he searched frantically for any way to get
out.
The building shook again as
another of his explosives detonated on one of the floors above. Debris rained
down in front of the hallway windows and showered the outside area in crumbled
concrete and broken glass. The corridor lights blinked out leaving the hallways
completely dark.
Kirken swore again and continued
to run. He looked quickly at the timer on his wrist. The remaining charges he
had left in the elevator were a few short seconds away from arming to explode.
If he was to escape, it would
have to be now.
He sprinted towards the end of a
long hall past three giant windows that showed the effects of his work in the
outside compound. Dismembered bodies, building debris and broken weapons were
strewn about. Most of the courtyard was either smoking or on fire. Shattered
glass and brick continued to drop steadily from the air above.
The sounds of soldiers still
chased at his back. Kirken stopped, whirled around and let loose another
barrage of rifle fire down the hallway. His pursuers again dove around corners
and dropped to the ground to avoid the new weapons burst.
This gave him time to holster
his hand weapon and sling his rifle across his back. He snatched a chair lying
overturned in the hall and wielded it awkwardly in front of him like a battering
ram. Ducking his head behind its seat, he charged at the largest of the plate
glass windows that separated him from escape to the outside.
Sprinting across the room, he
was almost to the glass when a hand appeared from nowhere and latched itself across
his throat jerking his head backwards. His legs flew out from beneath him, and
he fell roughly across his back onto the floor.
The chair flew away from his
hands and slid beneath the feet of another chasing soldier. It tangled around
his legs and knocked him to the ground.
Kirken seized the left boot of
the man who had grabbed him and twisted his ankle savagely to the side. He felt
the crunch of snapping bone in his hand, and the soldier fell down hard to his
knees next to him.
The other fallen soldier further
away untwisted himself from the chair and snatched out his sidearm. In a quick
blinding flash, he squeezed off two shots at Kirken's head.
The first bullet sliced lightly
across the edge of Kirken’s skin barely a few inches short of tearing out his
left eye.
Kirken rolled across his side. A
new blanket of blood cascaded down his face. He whipped around his own sidearm
and pumped the trigger twice.
Kirken’s first shot ripped open
the soldier's throat. The second buried itself into a deep bloody hole in the
center of his chest. The soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head before he fell
to the floor.
Kirken turned to sprint away.
But not before the remaining soldier leapt on top of a nearby table and dove at
him from overhead knocking Kirken's weapon from his grasp.
The force of the soldier’s
weight crushed Kirken heavily to the floor. Sprawled across Kirken’s back, the
soldier reached around and grabbed him by both ears. Using them like handles,
he slammed Kirken’s head down across the broken sections of concrete that
surrounded them.
His senses violently dazed,
Kirken squirmed beneath the man’s heavy weight trying to escape his grip. He
shifted over on his side and was met by a large knuckled fist ramming itself
into the bridge of his nose. The pain from the newest shattered bone robbed him
momentarily of his sight.
Kirken clawed out blindly for
the hands that held him when suddenly they just let go.
Kirken hauled himself up to his
knees only to tumble backward again when the soldier slammed a second punch
into his damaged shoulder socket. Kirken felt his eyes roll to the back of his
head, and then the world went black again.
But not black enough that he
didn’t sense the soldier draw back and deliver another blow. Kirken felt his
mouth open wide in shrieks of pain, but he did not hear his own tortured
sounds.
What he did hear and feel was
the dull snap of his upper arm. A splinter of damaged bone jutted slightly from
his skin. It then fell limply to his side.
The soldier shoved him roughly
backward onto his back and raised his boot again across his shoulder. Through
the horrific haze of pain, Kirken raised his head and dully watched the next
blow come.
He allowed his muscles to relax
and lowered his head in defeat when a second explosion tore through the
building and toppled the soldier to the floor. More sections of the upper
building tumbled from the sky on the other side of the large windows.
His eyes stinging and his body
tortured with the pain of shattered bone, Kirken kicked the weapon the soldier
had dropped across the floor out of reach. In the next instant, large pieces of
concrete tore loose from the ceiling and buried it completely in rubble.
The entire facility was
beginning to crash down around them.
Kirken jumped to his side to
avoid an avalanche of debris and the lunging arms of his attacker. The J.G.U.
soldier did not move in time and fell pinned beneath the falling wreckage.
Two large sections of concrete
held the left side of his body to the floor. Other than the breaths coming from
his body, the soldier didn’t move as the effects of the explosion settled about
the facility.
Kirken stood and picked up a
piece of the fallen ceiling. He walked to the fallen soldier and raised it over
his head. Before he was able to swing, the soldier ripped himself loose and
pounced up like an angry wounded animal trying hard to stand.
Kirken smashed the concrete
against his face bringing a sickening crunch from the top of his skull. The
soldier's body lurched away and fell backward toward the ground. But he did not
remain there for long before dragging himself back to his feet.
Kirken stood in front of him
holding the concrete and waited until the soldier stood completely up.
Kirken then stepped closer.
Rage, hate and a merciless darkness filled the air between the lock of their
eyes. Both their faces dripped with blood and sweat. Not dropping his stare,
Kirken swung his arm and hit him again with the concrete.
A large cut opened across the
soldier's eye, but this time he did not fall. He stood motionless before Kirken
and slammed his fist into Kirken's dangling limp arm.
This time Kirken's didn't even
scream. The walls of the crumbling room swirled around him as his body tumbled
across the falling rubble.
The burst of misery was
short-lived, and he was able to roll onto his stomach and find his feet while
more soldiers sprinted into the room.
The soldier ducked to the
ground, while Kirken scrambled to dive beneath a desk near the far window port.
Automatic weapons fire ate up the air around him and splashed across the fallen
concrete that littered the room.
Kirken fumbled for his rifle
still hanging from his shoulder and fired two short bursts at his bloody and
battered opponent lying across his stomach. The shots tore hungrily through the
uniform and flesh along the length of his back.
The new soldiers inside did not
flinch or fall. New gunfire bursts from their weapons shredded the crumbled
concrete around him. Kirken hurled his body through the air and landed behind
two large metal desks.
Giant clouds of smoke billowed
into the room from the hallway partially hiding him from the soldiers’ view.
Cradling his shattered arm and
crawling on his good hand and knees, Kirken made his way to the window and
looked quickly down. Escape to the outside hills was a three-story drop and a
short sprint away.
If he didn't survive the fall,
he felt comfort knowing he would die having won the fight.
He backed away from the window
through the smoke and slowly stood. He dropped his rifle. Holding his broken
arm with his good hand, he ran at the glass.
The force of his body and the
strength of his undamaged shoulder shattered its thick surface while bullets
exploded around him. He sailed through the air along with the building's
falling debris toward the flames along the ground.
Before his body met the earth,
the last of the explosives he set in the elevator finally went. The remaining
floors of the old bank transformed into an angry giant fireball. Jolts of heat
and sharp fingers of flame seared through its roof and gutted its sides
piercing the night sky like lightning.
Kirken fell through the angry
burst of the blast.
He landed with an avalanche of
shattered glass and twisted metal as the walls of the old bank weapons armory
crashed down around him. Bodies, parts of the building, nearby vehicles and the
ground all around were completely engulfed by the flame.
Through it all, Kirken managed
to pull himself up through the scorched air and find his footing. When he was
up, he just started to run.
His shirt, the back of his pants
and head were covered with fire. A tumbled load of wreckage crashed across
where he had landed seconds before.
Small and large concrete
portions of the structure flew and fell from every direction until a second
blast ripped from the compound. Its force buried itself into Kirken's back and
knocked him roughly forward toppling him from his feet.
Kirken rolled twice in the dirt
to extinguish the largest of the flames eating away at his clothes and body.
For a quick instant, he turned his head to look at the chaos he had created.
The old bank weapons armory was
completely gone. The obliterated shell of what was left standing from the blast
was completely consumed by a violent raging fire.
Kirken gazed in fascinated
horror at what he had caused. He then stood and again forced his legs to run.
"Sir, we’ve got a large
explosion at the old bank in Beuford, Washington," a voice sounded from a
transmitter speaker hanging along the wall.
Tuttle looked up from where he
had been resting his head across his desk through the window to the control
room. People flooding from three separate doorways started sitting at and
reactivating the dark empty command stations. One by one and some at the same
time, the empty screens at the front of the room quickly breathed to life.
Tuttle jumped up from his chair
and also ran inside.
"Inside the building?"
Tuttle asked rushing to stand behind the shoulder of the man who had called
him. "Or from the surrounding vicinity?"
"We’re reading a six point
nine blast factor," the console operator reported. "Not quite enough
to level a large structural building."
Pushing his way through the
sudden surge of personnel reassembling about the command center, War Minister
Faulken moved to stand behind Tuttle's shoulder. They both stared intently
across the console operator's controls. The large array of video displays loomed
in front of them at the front of the room.
Faulken exchanged glances with
Tuttle and then looked up at the screens.
"Composition of that six
point nine?" he demanded evenly.
"We've got three satellites
moving into position now," the operator reported. "Judging at this
point from debris damage to nearby buildings, the blast came from the
structure’s upper half. There are a lot of rooftops across the block on fire,
and the upper floors of many of the buildings have been blown entirely
away."
"Is it still up?"
Tuttle asked barely able to breathe.
"Its base structure is
still there," the operator said adjusting his controls methodically.
"I can still detect a large section of it even through all the fire. But
its upper levels are completely gone. What's left is most likely a gutted
shell. Until the satellite with the high intensity search cameras rolls in, I
can't tell for sure."
Faulken turned his head to look
at Tuttle.
"It is no longer feasible
to wait, General. Send the firebomb team in tonight. And then launch the ground
team.”
“There is still a risk.”
“Regardless of all risk. Send
them tonight.”
"War Minister, we don't
have those kind of men to waste!" Tuttle argued sharply. "Especially
on such a mission as this. We both know troop numbers all over are dangerously
low. We cannot afford to undertake this type of risk to those men we have left.
If the J.G.U. can still mount a defense from that weapons base, and most likely
they can, our ground teams will be detected and eliminated by the reinforcement
troops we expect to enter the town within the hour. Once that first squad is
detected, the J.G.U. will seal the city up even tighter. We'll never be able to
get anything else in. We'll lose it for good."
“Tuttle, if we lose that city
for good…," Faulken's face pulled tight with rage and determination.
“…this whole country most likely will die. It will only be a matter of time
before they learn the exact location coordinates of Science Dome 15. And once
they get that, they will roll everything they possibly can against what little
line of defense we have remaining in place to keep that facility from falling.
And when they fully access the technology there, this war will be over. It will
all be over.
“I am giving you a Priority One
order backed by the President himself," Faulken’s voice became a hiss.
"That city must be destroyed within the next twenty-four hours, regardless
of loss to resources, technology, or men. Send all your teams in now. Actions
taken less than this will be considered criminal."
"Sirs," the console
operator exclaimed momentarily interrupting Faulken’s rant. "The
surveillance satellite is coming around."
Faulken looked towards the fiery
pictures coming across the monitors while Tuttle gazed at the numbers and
information appearing across the operator's controls.
"The blast kill ratio was
very high," the operator spoke again. “There are bodies down all around
the compound and the surrounding blocks wiped out by the blast. Falling rubble
more than likely buried scores of others closest to the building along the
ground."
Tuttle looked up towards the
fiery carnage displayed from different angles across the wall of holovid
screens.
"It was very high
indeed," the operator said again drawing in a deep breath.
"Tuttle," Faulken said
gravely looking back at him. "I want the firebombing to begin tonight.
Troops inside before the sun comes up. The time is now. We cannot afford to
wait any longer. Is that order clear, General?"
"Yes, sir," Tuttle
replied defeatedly.
He was about to walk away when
an alarm sounded from the control panel. Another command console operator
hurriedly punched his fist across its lit switches and keys. Bright flashes of
light came from the viewscreens forcing everyone in the room to cover their
eyes or look away.
"Another blast, sir. Much
larger this time," the operator reported. "The satellite should give
us an exact view of the building in the next two minutes."
The command area fell silent as
everyone in the room stared in fascinated horror at the fiery scene across the
screens. Tuttle and Faulken waited rigidly behind the console operator with
their arms braced against the back of his chair.
"The new satellite feed is
coming online now, sir."
Tuttle leaned further over the
operator’s shoulder barely able to believe the flaming chaos in front of his
eyes.
"Sir," the operator
said. "That building is completely gone."