Overrun (30 page)

They donned their gear in
silence. The pilots’ readiness room was empty. Less than an hour ago, the
entire squadron of pilots stationed there had been hastily briefed on
assignments and battle status and then launched on their firebombing runs.

Tuttle somberly pulled on the
rest of his assault gear. He did his best to push away the thought that, like
the men who had recently left this room before him, the gear he was now putting
on most likely would never be taken off.

Returning was not an
expectation. Actually seeing Kirken’s face in person rather than on a holovid
screen never entered any remote realm of his mind.

He hoped it was more than guilt
that compelled him to act, the guilt they all felt for ever taking part in this
terrible war. For great profound reasons not clear to him now and would
probably defy him forever to comprehend, he felt he owed something to this man.

Something powerful in the back
of Tuttle’s mind moved him to make the attempt. To try the unlikely rescue of
three people that he still did not even know. It was a desperate act of his
conscience to at least make some things in this war right. And reestablish some
sort of honor in a world where it seemed none was ever in sight.

Demons lurked in Kirken’s eyes.
Tuttle had seen them the last time they spoke. There was also the emptiness
from trying to save what he and his children had ultimately become.

Tuttle saw their wretched state.
The evil glare that lingered behind the eyes of Kirken’s son and the beaten
look of his daughter staring catatonically across the dying fire. Tuttle had
seen the ghosts in the faces of Kirken’s children, hungry to lash out and
waiting to consume what was left of Kirken's broken soul.

Tuttle couldn't imagine allowing
this man to leave this life with such a wrenching vision of his children etched
so harshly across his mind. He also feared that when the demons had finally
taken Kirken's mind and heart, they would be want to move on to someone else
deserving and come after his own.

It was Tuttle's own actions and
inability to stop events now in motion that allowed this to come to exist. If
Kirken was left out to die a second time, it would be on Tuttle’s shoulders and
his alone where the blame would come to rest. After everything he had
sacrificed to try and save them all, Kirken deserved the attempt. No matter how
futile it most likely would turn out to be.

Tuttle reached out and took the
weapon Piper offered him. He pulled its arming mechanism back and thoughtfully
observed its empty ammunition chambers while turning it over in his hands.

Piper walked away from him
across the room. He punched a small switch and talked quietly into a
transmitter along the wall. He nodded his head twice at the voice that spoke
back to him and then turned back around.

"General," he said
picking up a large plastic face shield and cradling it in the crook of his arm.
"The chopper is ready. Scanning teams confirm the planes are moving on
schedule into place. So far their presence has been undetected. Firebombing
runs are expected to proceed as planned."

Tuttle clicked the weapon shut
and slung it across his shoulder. He reached down along the ground and picked
up his own helmet and face shield.

"Sir," Piper said
quietly. "We've got a pilot willing and in place. We have to go now. Or
not at all."

Tuttle tightened the last strap
of his equipment and pulled the helmet across his head. He reached back and
tugged a small headset transmitter sitting above his ear down to above his
throat.

Piper reached up and did the
same.

“Let’s go, General,” Piper said
softly looking Tuttle in the eyes.

Tuttle looked back up.
Determination and Tuttle’s gratitude passed between their stares.

“Thanks, Mick,” Tuttle’s voice
was no louder than a breath.

Piper nodded his head and pulled
the plastic shield down to cover his face. With Tuttle following close behind
him, he stepped out into the hall.

They trotted quickly towards the
hanger and the single attack helicopter transport at its empty center.

The pilot didn't look around
when they threw open the heavy door and clambered heavily aboard. None of them
spoke. Tuttle and Piper stared down across the helicopter deck as it lifted off
and roared out into the coming night.

* * *

Mel was the first to run from
where they hid in the hills just on the outside of the decaying parking lot.
Her movements were lethargic and slow as she crossed the vast crumbling expanse
towards the building's entrance.

She was almost halfway across
when first her father and then her brother trotted out after her. Both ran
backwards with their weapons raised out towards the hills. Their eyes searched
for anyone lurking in the barren emptiness that might have followed them.

The Beuford shopping mall's
ten story structure loomed high and strong into the dark sky overhead. A
few crumbled columns laid broken off and decaying next to it along the ground.

It was one of the few buildings
in the area, Kirken had always thought, that even after all these years still
seemed strong and secure. It refused to die under the constant bombardment of
the unchecked sun.

When he was almost through the
parking lot and close to the front entrance, he looked up towards the roof
where they would await their transport.

Mel darted under the concrete
pillars still attached to the building's side looming protectively over its front
doors. When she was safely covered by the overhang, she pressed her back
against a wall and slid noiselessly down to the hot pavement to wait.

The glass doors across the
entrance were covered with thick layers of years of blowing sand and dirt.

Through expressionless staring
eyes, she watched Kirken and Brandon sprint across the vast open lot to join
her. Kirken ran first and was almost halfway across. Brandon had just backed
from where they had hidden in the hills and started to run.

Soon they were beside her, both
trying to control their loud harsh gasps from their lengthy sprint.

Kirken crouched next to Mel and
aimed his weapon across the empty parking lot. Nothing but a few patches of
sand carried by a gentle wind disturbed the sanctity of the quiet night.

Brandon ran away to the furthest
door and swung his tire iron against the glass. Without looking back towards
the lot, he stepped carefully through the broken pieces still hanging from the
doorframe. A few fell free when his body brushed past and broke softly across
the ground.

Mel followed after him first.
Kirken backed slowly in after her. Both headed towards where Brandon had
disappeared through the door. While Mel moved carefully across the shattered
glass, Kirken scanned the open area one last time through his weapon sight.

Again seeing nothing, he turned
around and hurriedly followed her in.

* * *

Two jeeps rolled slowly towards
the mall’s decrepit parking lot. Their headlights were off allowing their small
black frames to hide easily in the night. They emerged from the cover of the
hills where they had first observed the three figures emerge from the dark just
before the open vastness of the lot.

Three of the four vehicle doors
opened slowly, and five J.G.U. soldiers stepped wordlessly out. Two walked to
the front of the jeep and standing side by side watched them enter the
building. Their home base had alerted them to their presence only a few minutes
ago after analyzing the surveillance feed from the most recent satellite pass.

Light from the city’s fires
still cast a glow across the sky in the distance. The slight quiet sound of
breaking glass drifted through the open air.

Two of the other soldiers walked
to other end of the vehicles and pulled rifles, flamethrowers and an assortment
of other assault weapons from the back compartments of each.

The fifth soldier stared through
a set of old-model binoculars towards the broken doors at the mall’s entrance
and whispered quietly into a tiny transmitter at his wrist. From the jeep's
radio unit, a static-filled voice answered him just as quietly back.

All five quickly strapped full
loads of weaponry and ammunition to their limbs and backs. Two of the soldiers
also pulled small fuel tanks across their shoulders for the flamethrowers that
hung halfway down their sides.

They quietly closed the doors to
the jeeps and stealthily approached the mall's entrance. They didn't follow the
figures directly across the lot but walked around its perimeter careful to keep
hidden amongst the shadows of its darkened sides.

When they had finally reached
the broken door, it had been more than fifteen minutes since they had seen the
three figures enter the facility. Their boots made a soft crunching sound
across the shattered glass as one by one they lowered their heads and followed
them in.

With his assault rifle held
straight out in front of him, Brandon led them deeper into the darkness of the
abandoned mall. Mel followed just at his heels. Kirken walked backwards behind
them with his own weapon trained in the direction they had just come.

Kirken breathed in deeply the
suffocating years of stale air that lingered about the tightly sealed facility.
Thick layers of dried filth and grime covered the walls, the floors and every
other thing in sight. Their feet left deep tracks in the area they walked.

"Brandon," Kirken
spoke quietly without turning around. His voice echoed slightly through the
decomposing walls of the empty complex. "Let's just find a way to the top,
get up there and wait. There’s got to be some sort of stairway we can still
use."

Brandon didn't answer. He just
continued to lead them ahead.

The faint echoes of Kirken's
words lingered for a few seconds in the crusty air and then faded away. Kirken
did not look back to see if he had been heard. He continued to direct his eyes
and weapon back into the darkness behind them.

"Brandon," Kirken's
voice edged higher in volume and tone. "Brandon, do you hear me?"

Again his words went unanswered.

Kirken pulled his eyes from
behind his weapon sight and was about to turn around when he sensed Mel,
walking quietly in front of him, suddenly stop. His back pressed up against
hers, and the heel of his boot brushed up against the bottom of her legs.

Still keeping it pointed away
from his chest, Kirken lowered his weapon and rotated his head partially
around. The movement brought him about to the frightened stare in his
daughter's quiet eyes.

She didn't react when his face
was directly in front of her, and she didn’t make a sound. Her cheeks had sunk
further into the bones of her face, and her pasty skin had become an even
lighter shade of white. Kirken forced himself to look away from her towards
whatever Brandon was eyeing up along the ground further ahead.

A soft scratching sound wafted
across the crusty air and fell across his ears.

"Brandon," Kirken
called again.

Mel turned away from Kirken and
looked toward Brandon and what he was watching along the floor. Kirken lowered
his weapon all the way down and stepped to her left side.

Brandon carefully lowered his
own rifle and leaned it against the wall next to him. He pulled his hand slowly
across his belt and popped open the clasp that held the tire iron hanging at
his side.

It was then that Kirken saw the
large darting shapes of a handful of rats that had detached themselves from the
shadows. They scurried together straight toward them in a quick-moving pack.

When they reached Brandon's
legs, they broke in different directions to get around. Two pulled away, one to
either side, while the third rushed around Mel's legs.

Mel didn't move or scream. She
only raised her eyes and stared away into the emptiness of the mall. Brandon
reached his hand out to her and gently pushed her back against the wall and out
of his way.

In a tightly grasped fist, he raised
the tire iron high over his head and brought it down heavily across the center
of the largest rodent's back. The blow was so powerful and brutal Kirken
thought he heard the animal shriek in horror and pain.

Blood, fur and bone splattered
across the tips of Brandon's boots.

Kirken stepped away from Brandon
and stood closer to Mel along the wall. While he did, Brandon raised his arm
and brought the tire iron down again. Two additional furious blows left the
animal still in a bloody pulp at his feet.

Kirken held his daughter and
tried to look away from the ruthless spectacle. A haunting chill fingered its
way along his back and across his heart when he realized that he couldn’t.

He watched Brandon club the
shredded carcass again. The other two rats that had broken from the darkness
had long since escaped away to the safety of the surrounding gloom.

Brandon's breath wheezed out in
short gasps. A dark welling rage that had finally been let loose blazed in his
eyes.

Kirken pressed his back against
the wall next to his daughter, closed his eyes and tried to erase what he had
just seen from his mind.

He savored the fiery jolts of
pain that raced from his fractured shoulder and occupied at least some of his
consciousness of the world around. His stomach felt like it would turn on him
again and fatigue threatened to topple him to the ground. He raised his hand
and wiped fresh blood from a deep cut just above his face.

He feared it was only a matter
of time before death tired of its chase and finally moved to claim them all.

"Brandon," Kirken
pointed to a wall and a line of steps leading to the upper floors.

There were decayed pieces of
metal that had long ago broken off on both sides of the escalator structure,
but most of the metal stairs appeared strong and still intact.

"That still looks pretty
sound. We can probably get most of the way up on it…before it starts to
break." Kirken finished the last part of his sentence silently in his own
head.

Brandon nodded in
acknowledgement. He turned from the bloody mess he had created and began to
walk away. Moonlight through a broken window splashed across his back when he
moved towards the open courtyard at the mall's center.

Kirken was about to follow when
the loud sound of exploding weapons rounds tore through the still dusty air.

Brandon's head snapped around at
the sound of the first shot. He lunged through the air towards Kirken just as
the floor beneath his feet erupted into a flash of obliterated steel. His body
slammed hard into Kirken's broken shoulder. All three fell across each other
along the ground.

The obliterated floor where
Brandon had just stood fell around them in a hot rain of shredded metal. A
jagged hole the size of a man's chest in the wall still standing next to them
marked the path of the grenade launcher's round.

Feeling like his body moved in
slow motion, Kirken whirled around. Five soldiers stood behind them with their
weapons raised. Three of them dropped to their knees and again opened fire.

Automatic weapons fire shredded
the walls just above their heads. Orange and yellow fire from the tips of two
flamethrowers engulfed the air around them.

Brandon was the first to crawl
from beneath the shattered floor that covered them. Pulling one of his arms
free, and with his legs and back still covered with debris, he brought his own
weapon around and began to fire.

The five soldiers scattered into
the shadows of the surrounding walls to escape the return burst of weapons
shots.

A few feet away Kirken dropped
his body across his daughter to shield her from the falling rubble. Large
pieces of shredded metal fell across his back and pinned his left arm and leg
to the floor.

Mel squirmed beneath him trying
to push enough of the wreckage away to allow them both to get up.

With his own free arm, Kirken
yanked out the hand weapon strapped to his side and pulled rapidly on its
trigger. Bright streaks of light flew from its tip. Its deafening thunder
rammed against his ears as he emptied his remaining ammunition in the direction
of their attackers.

Return fire from the soldiers'
weapons flashed from where they sought cover behind fallen steel girders and
crumbling cement walls. Except for these brief flashes of light, they were
completely hidden within the mall's dark enclosure.

"Brandon! Find the stairs!
Find the stairs!" Kirken heard himself scream. He pulled himself from the
last of the twisted wreckage holding him and stood up. He reached down to grab
Mel by the wrist and pulled her forcefully upright next to him. "We're
still going up!"

Brandon scurried across the
floor to an old section of wall still standing at the center of the huge lobby.
Pressing his back against the protection it offered and following Kirken's
voice with his eyes, he reloaded his assault rifle.

Giant walls of flame licked the
air around them. Exploding weapons rounds shredded the floor near his feet.

The weapons fire started coming
from many directions as the soldiers began to spread themselves further apart.
Shots blazed from both in front and now at their sides. Huge flames made it
impossible to see their source.

The escalator steps behind them,
silent and unmoving from many years of disuse, offered the only means of
escape.

"Get up there!" Kirken
shrieked to his daughter. He jumped from behind the wall with his rifle roaring
at his hip. Brandon jumped and did the same spraying weapons fire across the
entire area they had just come.

Mel covered her head with her
arms and hands and dashed towards the elevator base. Kirken sprinted along
after her turning every few steps to let loose new bursts of shots at anyone
that might have been following behind.

Brandon crouched back down to
avoid the rounds exploding around him and didn’t follow.

Mel had almost reached the
escalator when the J.G.U. soldiers swung their shoulders out from behind the
thick concrete beams and again opened fire. Mel dove to the small rectangular
floor of the escalator base and pulled her tiny body and feet into the tiny
space of protection offered within its steel walls.

Kirken threw himself to the
ground to avoid the fresh flurry of weapons shots ripping past his ears and
over his head. The new burst held him pinned down and unable to move twenty
feet from where Brandon crouched with his back pressed against a shredded
concrete wall for protection.

Brandon then leapt up again and
brought his weapon around. His finger flashed across its trigger sending the
soldiers scrambling back for cover behind the walls and flames.

He took two steps back towards
Kirken when his rifle clicked empty. A new round of shots chased him back down
to the floor.

Still lying face down across his
chest at the center of the open floor, Kirken fired off the remaining rounds in
his own weapon and pulled the last of the ammunition either of them carried
from his belt.

With a flick of his wrist, he
sent the final rifle clip sliding over to Brandon along the ground. Brandon
snatched it up quickly and jammed it into the base of his weapon. He then stood
and let loose their final barrage of fire.

Kirken pulled his legs into his
chest and covered his head with his hands while he waited for the return fire
to cease. The roaring flames and the stinging heat against his eyes made it
nearly impossible to see.

"Go! Go! Go!" Brandon
screamed. He dropped back behind the concrete structure while rifle fire chewed
along its side. Brandon stood again and fired off a few more short bursts of
shots.

"Can you see them?"
Kirken yelled back at him over the deafening thunder of weapons fire and
flames. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Mel run up the escalator steps
behind him and disappear into the upper floors.

"I can't see
anything!" Brandon dropped again and pressed his back against the
obliterated wall. "Not even the flashes from their shots! The flames and
smoke are too much. But some of it is starting to come from the side! Not all
of it from up front!"

"They're splitting up and
coming around!" Kirken yelled. "Trying to cut us off. Go now! Go
fucking now!"

Brandon turned from the lessened
firing coming from the front of the mall and started to run. Just as he did,
another rocket-propelled grenade whistled through the air and tore into the
floor just behind him.

The blast tossed him into the
air past Kirken. His body dropped heavily at the bottom of the escalator stairs
in a dazed smoking heap. Shredded concrete and metal fell heavily down on top
of him.

Kirken leapt up and ran towards
him. Bullets ripped past him and chased at his feet. He dove through the air
and landed next to Brandon at the bottom of the steps.

Kirken pulled up his rifle with
his good arm and sprayed weapons fire out in front of them while trying to pull
Brandon upright with his damaged other.

Blasts of excruciating pain
seared like lightning from his shoulder threatening to rob his mind of its
consciousness. Kirken blinked it madly away and pulled harder at Brandon's limp
figure with his fractured shoulder and arm.

A few short seconds later his
weapon clicked empty, and he threw it on the ground. Using both arms, he
grabbed Brandon around his smoking shirt collar and tried desperately to haul
him up to stand.

Brandon's eyes fluttered
slightly, but his body did not move.

"Brandon, get up!"
Kirken’s voice shrieked.

He lowered him back to the
ground and pulling out his sidearm squeezed off a few more bursts into what lay
hidden behind the flames.

"Get up now, goddamn
it!"

Intense heat and a monstrous
barrage of exploding cannon fire ignited even more of their clothing and hair.
Small flames and thick wisps of smoke attached themselves to the equipment and
material covering their backs.

Kirken continued to strain
frantically with both arms to pull up his son when a shudder suddenly moved
through his body and he finally rolled over. Brandon rose groggily to his feet
and scrambled on unsteady legs after Kirken up the escalator.

The barking sound of J.G.U.
voices followed close behind. Their shapes and the directions they came from
were still masked by the fire.

Kirken and Brandon climbed
almost halfway up the ancient stairs when ignited fuel from a flamethrower
splashed at the back of their ankles and across their feet. At the same time,
two more whistling rocket-propelled grenades pounded into either side of the
structure tearing away pieces of concrete and steel around them.