Overrun Read online

  Brandon pulled his body up and ran after him.

  A single soldier separated from the main group noticed their flight and released a barrage of weapons fire at their backs. The thunder of his weapon brought more firing from the men searching near him.

  "Son of a bitch!" Kirken screamed and punched the last detonator in his hand.

  The weapons bursts were replaced by another giant fireball, the closest yet to the center of the stadium. The blast shredded nearly half of the vehicles on the field into smoking wreckage while this time leaving the outside walls untouched.

  Running to avoid the falling rubble, Kirken jammed his arm into his bag while still trying to pull Brandon after him. Only two sets of explosives remained.

  "We've only got a few left!" Kirken yelled back to Brandon. "We're going to have to get to the center of the field and set off the rest! Get what we can with ‘em! And still get out!”

  Brandon followed him to the burning vehicles. They ducked unnoticed into the heart of the blazing fires and raced through the pandemonium towards the undamaged rows of vehicles in the stadium’s center.

  Soldiers sprinted in every direction. Most now were just trying to escape.

  "This way!" Kirken pulled Brandon after him around a corner to avoid three soldiers coming from the other side of a burning car.

  They charged a handful of steps further through the fires when machine gun fire hungrily devoured the battle-scarred earth around them.

  Kirken shoved Brandon to the ground and dove into the rear of a yet undamaged pickup truck. He dumped his pack upside down and scattered the remaining equipment around to prepare another charge.

  Brandon laid unmoving on the ground next to the truck. Kirken glanced nervously up at the vehicles racing into the stadium through the fiery ripped holes in the facility’s outer walls.

  "Brandon! Get up! They're starting to seal it off!"

  Brandon stirred briefly and moved groggily around. A jagged piece of car metal burned near his head. Its flames licked savagely at the skin of his face.

  "Brandon! Come goddamn on!"

  Kirken hurriedly set the last wire and dove from the truck into the dirt near Brandon's side. By this time, Brandon was on his knees and moving next to him. They crawled quickly away from the rigged truck towards the center of the field. Kirken clutched the last charge tightly in his hand.

  At the far corner of the field, Kirken rolled over and leaned against a J.G.U. artillery jeep. He pressed the detonator in his hands and watched the charge in the pickup truck erupt into an angry fireball.

  More than half of the remaining vehicles were swallowed by the blast.

  Still more soldiers continued to pour through the exploded stadium walls.

  Kirken quickly slung his empty pack across his shoulder and dove to the ground at the rear of the jeep. He dug his elbows into the warm dirt and squirmed his way beneath its frame to set the final charge.

  While Brandon watched and rubbed at the back of his head, Kirken quickly wired the unit near the fuel tank. When he was finished, he rolled out and ran to the jeep's front. He ripped open the door and in a panicked frenzied haze tore a handful of wires from beneath the dashboard.

  Making the engine breathe to life with a startling roar, Brandon jumped into the seat next to him. Kirken rolled the jeep out into the flaming chaotic din while soldiers ran in front, behind and past them.

  They were almost to the edge of the stadium when from somewhere within the craze-filled night a hand grabbed Brandon around the throat and yanked him from the jeep.

  Brandon landed hard on his chest across the sandy rock of the terrain. The force of the fall robbed his lungs of most of his breath. He raised his head up and stared into the drawn weapon of a bloody and battered J.G.U. soldier.

  About fifty feet past where he fell, Kirken spun the jeep around and drove towards the back of the soldier. The loud rev of the approaching engine caused the soldier to whirl around. Seeing the coming jeep, he raised his weapon and began to fire.

  When he turned, Brandon grabbed the tire iron clipped to his pack and swung hard at the base of the soldier’s neck. The soldier’s body immediately fell limp and dropped to the ground. He was crushed instantly by the tires of Kirken's jeep.

  Brandon rolled twice around on his side to also avoid being flattened when Kirken's jeep blazed past. Kirken brought the jeep back around, and Brandon jumped in.

  Two additional soldiers appeared from the smoke and wreckage that had been the J.G.U. vehicle land base and fired two prolonged weapon bursts at the jeep.

  Kirken and Brandon dove beneath the dashboard for cover. Kirken yanked his Sunszk from the holster at his side and leaned his arm across Brandon. Brandon raised his arms to cover his eyes and ears while Kirken emptied the ammunition clip. Both soldiers fell dead before they reached the vehicle.

  Kirken jammed his foot to the floor and spun the jeep toward the exit torn open by the fiery blasts. They disappeared into the confusion of roaring trucks and smaller transports as soldiers tried hard to drive some of the undamaged vehicles from the flames.

  All the vehicles headed towards the gaping hole that had once been the east wall of the stadium just to the side of its giant dilapidated scoreboard. Transports filled with troops roared past them from the opposite direction back into the stadium.

  Kirken pulled the jeep behind a carrier truck hauling multi-terrain vehicles on its deck. He revved the engine harder and drove in until the jeep’s front bumper was only inches from the hardware dragging from the carrier’s rear. The engines of both vehicles screamed as they raced for the flaming hole leading to the outside.

  Behind them a few jeeps had turned around and chased after them. A handful of sporadic shots spit through the air over their heads.

  "Get on!" Kirken yelled.

  Brandon bolted immediately upright in his seat and with unsteady steps made his way carefully out onto the hood of the jeep. The carrier truck continued moving straight towards the outside of the stadium, its driver still unaware of the vehicle behind him.

  Large pieces of flaming wreckage from the explosion dropped down around them. Both vehicles lurched through the air as they smashed across.

  Staggering unsteadily across the jeep’s hood, Brandon grabbed frantically through the open air at a large beam attached to the rear of the carrier. Clutching the beam, he was able to balance his weight on the moving jeep for the moment and prevent his body from flying out into the flaming night.

  The jeep then lurched again as it bounced violently across more falling debris. The jolt caused Brandon’s legs to slip to the side of the jeep’s hood and one of his arms to flail free from the truck carrier.

  "Jump!" Kirken screamed. "Get off now! The last charge is on a timer! You’ve got to jump now! It’s about to go!"

  Brandon didn't even hear. He hurled his body through the air and wrapped his arms and legs around a steel girder on the carrier. His knees smashed painfully against its metal frame, and somehow his hands managed to keep their grip. He hung tightly to a large piece of metal while his body thrashed about the back of the vehicle.

  Kirken looked away from Brandon swinging wildly from the back of the truck and jammed his head underneath the jeep’s dashboard and steering column. Jamming the pack he used to carry the explosives into a small ball, he wedged it between the seat and the accelerator.

  When he pulled his foot away and the jeep continued to run, he leapt up on the driver's seat and prayed the pack would hold the accelerator long enough for him to jump to the carrier.

  He reached down to wedge the pack more firmly in place and then scrambled over the windshield onto the jeep's hood. Halfway across, his foot slipped on its slick surface causing him to fall forward towards the speeding carrier. His arms flailed out desperately in front of him.

  "Dad!" Brandon screamed.

  Kirken's first hand missed the carrier, and his body toppled forward from the front of the jeep. Still hanging from the metal girder, Brandon
thrust his arm out frantically to catch him.

  Only lightly touching his outstretched fingers with his other hand, Kirken fell past Brandon's grasp. He dropped through the open air and landed hard across the carrier’s back bumper. Hooking a piece of metal on the back of the truck with his arm, he stopped his body from bouncing off towards the ground.

  The pack holding the jeep’s accelerator slipped and fell away. Smashing across another pile of wreckage, the jeep suddenly veered sharply to the left. Still holding some speed, it careened through a squad of soldiers entering the stadium on foot. Bodies and screams were left immediately behind in its wake.

  Kirken clung to the bottom of the carrier truck and was dragged mercilessly across the jagged rocky terrain.

  Ten seconds later the last set of explosives in the jeep finally detonated sending searing flames straight into the air. The explosion engulfed many of the remaining vehicles and sent pieces of obliterated metal and glass hurtling through the night.

  A piece ripped across the rear tire of the carrier disintegrating it instantly into a flash of shredded rubber. The truck jolted violently to the left raising its passenger side high into the air.

  Brandon released his hold on the back of the carrier and let his body fall. He rolled in a twisted heap through the explosion’s flames. His head hit a large rock and then his body was still.

  Kirken also let go his grip and tumbled away through the burning hotness of the dirt. He watched dully as the last blast launched brilliant yellow and orange flames deep into the darkness of the night sky.

  The carrier truck toppled over on its side and slid across the fiery earth. Another transport, this one carrying troops, slammed into its front completely obliterating the cab.

  Soldiers jumped from the rear of the second transport. Some scrambled to help those trapped in the wreckage. Others raced towards the center of the burning stadium. Tortured screams of the injured rang out through the smoke and fire.

  Kirken grabbed Brandon by the back of his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

  "We have to go! We have to go now! " he screamed. "They’re going to seal it off! We’ll never get out!"

  Brandon pulled himself groggily up and balanced his weight across his feet. Kirken pressed his hands against Brandon’s back and pushed to keep him moving away from the additional jeeps and vehicles that sped through the flaming hole in the side of the stadium.

  After a few seconds, Brandon began to pump his legs faster and sprinted step-for-step next to his father. They raced toward the stadium’s edge and the opening that offered escape to the outside. In another handful of tortured heartbeats, they were finally able to run through.

  More troop transports flew past them onto the field. Several additional explosions echoed through the night as the fire found its way to various gas tanks throughout the facility.

  Kirken and his son ran for the cover of darkness away from the main roadway. Brandon limped on a sprained ankle, and Kirken struggled to move his arm. He lifted it over his head and hurriedly dropped it back down trying to bring some feeling back into the tortured limb.

  Fire coursed through his leg from a piece of burning metal that had lodged itself in his shin from one of the exploding vehicles.

  Both just continued to run. The heap of rubble and fire that was once Beuford's football stadium fell quickly behind. They sprinted more than a mile before lessening their pace. When they finally stopped, both struggled to breathe.

  "That’s it,” Kirken tried to say between tortured breaths. “We’re not going on. We’re not going to the next target. Let's go back and get her."

  Brandon nodded, but didn't respond. He dropped to his knees and coughed violently his lungs trying to recover from the sudden inhalation of hot air and smoke.

  Kirken bent down and rested a hand on his son's shoulder. While Brandon retched into the sand, Kirken stared towards the stadium burning brightly in the distance.

  When Brandon finally recovered and stood next to him, they started running again even faster leaving the sound of the roaring flames behind.

  Chapter 17

  "Sir, we’re registering multiple blasts at the football stadium in Beuford."

  Tuttle rushed over to his surveillance operator's console. He grabbed the back of the man's chair and leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at the multiple images flashing across his screens.

  "Can you gauge intensity on any of them?" he bit out quickly.

  "Five high-level blasts so far," the surveillance operator reported. He pressed a small headset speaker to his ear and listened intently. "There’s a lot going on in there. They’re working on getting it secured. Damage level sounds pretty high. It should be awhile before they can get it locked back down.”

  "Did he get the vehicle supply or just damage the structure?"

  "Looks like he got a lot. Satellite went over just a few minutes ago. Can’t really see anything but fire and smoke on the inside. Interpreters on communications chatter say they were switching guard shifts when the explosions occurred. There were a lot of people inside."

  "Kirken? Any report?”

  "No contact,” the operator reported sullenly. “Nothing, at least at this time.”

  “When’s he scheduled to check in?" Tuttle’s voice also became more quiet.

  The rest of the room fell still around them. Only the soft tapping sounds of strokes across the keyboards of the command consoles filled the air.

  "When is he scheduled to check in?" a voice boomed through the silence.

  Tuttle turned away from the console and was not surprised to see War Minister Faulken return to the command center.

  "We monitored the blasts," Faulken continued as he walked hurriedly over to him. “What’s his status?”

  With a quick wave of Tuttle's hand, his men stood and left the room. Only Comm Chief Piper remained with him to face Faulken.

  "We haven’t heard," Piper answered for him. "Judging from what just occurred, we assume he was alive up until a few minutes ago. After that, we can't be sure. Despite his personal outcome, what he went in there to do was a success. It was all we hoped."

  "Report that back to the President," Tuttle added in a low ominous tone. His eyes glared hotly at Faulken.

  Faulken ignored the hostility and turned around the room to look at the barrage of images coming across the large command screens.

  "When he reports back, I want him sent immediately to the next target."

  “He’s going to need time to rearm and regroup. If he’s alive, I’m sure he’s heading back to his daughter.”

  “He can’t go back there. You have to reestablish contact and order him on to the next target.”

  “Why?”

  “General Tuttle, this is a direct order from the President himself. Send him onto the next target.”

  “Faulken, what in the fuck is going on?”

  Piper looked up from his command consoles to stare at the two men.

  “What?!” Tuttle yelled hotly when Faulken didn’t answer immediately.

  “Others have been sent in,” Faulken replied slowly.

  “What?” Tuttle’s voice was slow and drawn out.

  “Troops have been sent in. Vulture squad. About an hour ago.”

  “You goddamn son of a bitch!” Tuttle just about screamed. “What fucking right…?”

  “I’ll tell you what right,” Faulken hissed smartly back. “And, I’ll tell you by whose authority. The President of the fucking United States. That’s whose goddamn authority.”

  “This is my goddamn quadrant.”

  “United States Administration is running all this. Not fucking you.”

  “That city has been completely cut off. Impenetrable for the last thirty-six hours. Nearly fucking impossible to get anybody through.”

  “A team was ordered in,” Faulken’s voice became more forceful and commanding. “I made that order. Your own lookouts reported those blasts created enough confusion that an insertion could be possi
ble. So I dispatched the orders and dropped them in. And I can goddamn do that, because you, your quadrant, your facility and your goddamn men are at my command. I report directly to the President. I don’t need to inform you or request permission. Every man here falls under authority of what’s been designed. As it’s always been.”

  “I’m giving him the evac order then. If you’re sending people in then there’s no need for him to do anything more. I’ll tell him to get his daughter, get his son and just get out.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Faulken moved closer to him.

  “If our men are getting in, he’s already done what we asked him to do. He deserves the evac. The troops can do the rest of the city if need be. Not this one man. It would be ludicrous to order otherwise.”

  "I agree,” Faulken said icily. “I couldn’t agree more. Nothing more can be asked of him. He’s done everything we could possibly expect. But there was a cost. His actions were at sacrifice. This can’t be overlooked.”

  “What actions caused this cost?” Tuttle asked quietly.

  “The taking in of knowledge. We’ve allowed him to know too much to bring him back in. Or leave him out there alive.”

  “But it was us. We gave him what he needed to know to accomplish what we asked.”

  “This war…every facet of it is at sacrifice,” Faulken replied in a low tone.

  Tuttle sensed Piper shifting his weight across his feet behind him. His boots scuffed quietly against the floor.

  “What are you saying, War Minister?”

  “I’m saying, if he reestablishes contact. If he survived this mission, send him to the next. Like you said, General, the J.G.U. still have control of the city. Use Kirken to the fullest extent possible with the intent of saving our own. Continue to make use of his presence…"

  "Until he’s gone," Tuttle cut him off.

  "Yes. Until he finally dies. He cannot be allowed back in. Let him be with what he accomplished."