Overrun Page 25

  By now the flames had spilled further out and covered an extended area of the street. Storefronts near the blast had also caught fire.

  Kirken ran past the rear of the second truck and slid along its passenger side away from the glaring flames and out of the driver’s sight.

  Black smoke choking the air further helped him keep from being seen.

  He was almost to the passenger door when a second explosion rocked the compound from another vehicle that had caught fire from the initial blast.

  Kirken used the cover of its loud force to leap unnoticed onto the truck's sideboards while the driver stared across the chaotic street covered with flames, foam and the remains of men. The driver raised his hands across his eyes to shield them from the heat and glare of the blast.

  Kirken ripped his weapon from the holster at his waist and leveled it just outside the passenger window. Sensing the sudden shift of weight when Kirken leapt onto the truck, the driver dropped his hands and started to turn to his side.

  But it was already two late. Kirken fired twice into the cab. The first shot shattered the window. Flying glass ripped a bloody wound near Kirken's eye.

  The second buried itself in the driver's skull just in front of his right ear. Blood and pieces of bone splattered across the steering wheel and out through the driver's open window staining a small area of the ground outside. The driver's body slumped limply against the bloody wheel.

  Kirken jabbed his hand through the window of the cab and opened the door from the inside. Reaching through the cabin, he seized the driver with both hands and hauled him out the passenger door. His lifeless body landed with a dull thud at his feet.

  Kirken ripped his pack from his shoulders and began to snatch at the driver’s uniform jacket and shirt. The truck ahead was still in gear, but a soldier on the other side of the partially opened gate held up his hand and continued to make him wait.

  Kirken pressed his hand to his chest trying to keep his heart from beating through his skin. He pulled carefully at the driver's bloody clothes trying to keep them from becoming even more noticeably stained.

  He yanked off his own dark shirt and hurriedly stretched it over what was left of the driver's head. When he was through, he dragged the body to the rear of the first truck. The smell of blood was so thick he could taste it in his throat.

  He didn't stop to bend over when the stench finally made him vomit.

  Coughing and choking, he spit away the taste of bile and stomach rot and forced his body to continue to move. He hauled the soldier's body upright and leaned it against the back of the first truck.

  He pulled his supply belt from his waist and wrapped it around the soldier's sagging torso. He then fastened it securely to the metal rails of the truck's cargo bay. When the body was standing securely upright, Kirken cupped the dead man's hands together at his chest.

  The flames were beginning to die down from the exploded jeeps, but the night was still bright beneath the scorching white searchlights thrown about by the soldiers searching the compound.

  Kirken pulled the last grenade from his pack and ripped out the pin. He placed it carefully inside the dead man’s cupped hands and leaned him face first into the truck. He pressed his hands firmly against the soldier’s back and wedged his body tightly against the firing device.

  For the moment, the dead soldier’s weight was just enough to keep it in place.

  By now, the gate ahead had nearly opened completely. Soldiers motioned the driver of the other truck to pass through. The vehicle vibrated slightly as it began to slowly pull forward.

  Kirken sprinted to the passenger side of the bloodied second truck, grabbed his gear off the ground and leapt inside.

  He stuffed his weapon hurriedly into its holster and scurried across the blood-soaked seat. Sitting behind the soiled wheel, he watched the gate open. Sentries from the front of the compound signaled to proceed inside.

  Kirken pulled the hat he had taken from the soldier down over his eyes and leaned hard against the center of the wheel. The truck’s horn wailed thunderously through the night. Soldiers guarding the building’s entrance walked cautiously towards the truck while Kirken leaned in and gave it two more prolonged blasts.

  Watching them closely beneath his hat brim, Kirken flashed his headlights and pointed his arm through the window to the rear of the first truck. A soldier from the compound raised his hand and signaled the truck ahead to stop.

  Kirken flashed the lights again until the soldiers saw the dark figure hanging eerily beneath the shadows of the flickering flames. They brought their weapons quickly around and opened fire.

  A handful of the first shots snapped the body’s leg back. Many that followed tore into its chest. Their force ripped the body loose from the supply belt Kirken had used to hold it up against the truck and toppled it to the ground.

  Kirken dropped his head beneath the dash when he saw the tiny shape of the grenade fall from the dead soldier’s hands. He pressed his face down hard into the bloody seat and slammed his eyes shut. He held his breath trying to keep out the sickening stink that flooded his brain.

  When the body fell across the ground, more than twenty soldiers flooded from every direction towards the two trucks. Most met instant fiery deaths when the grenade blast finally came. A shower of ripped limbs and other remains fell across both trucks.

  More shouting men continued to approach from behind. These soldiers dropped across their chests and rolled around with their weapons raised trying to find the cause of the blast.

  Kirken revved the truck's engine back to life and slipped it into gear. A soldier ran to his door and slapped his shoulder through the open window motioning him to pull the truck inside.

  The truck ahead pulled through the open gates. With a shaking foot, Kirken pressed down on the clutch and put his truck in reverse. He pulled away from the small flames that covered the ripped bodies and maneuvered the vehicle around.

  When he was through the gates, another soldier slapped his hand across his truck’s hood and pointed Kirken to the armory's entrance at the front of the old bank.

  Covered with sweat and sitting in a pool of blood, Kirken gave the truck a little more gas. He inhaled deeply trying to control his runaway breaths and slow the furious beat of his heart. While the flames and voices raged behind him, he slowly followed the truck ahead toward the J.G.U. building.

  With the back of his sleeve, he tried to wipe away the drops of blood that stained the skin around his face.

  * * *

  Brandon turned around at the explosions echoing throughout the neighboring street. Voices shrieked from the shadows of the roaring flames a few blocks away.

  He only watched briefly.

  He slipped the strap of his assault rifle to the back of his left shoulder and unhooked the tire iron that dangled from his belt. He clutched it tightly in a balled fist while he stepped through the deserted streets towards the bright lights of the overrun city ahead.

  Chapter 25

  The first truck parked directly in front of the building’s entrance. Kirken pulled to a stop just behind it. Soldiers rushed past both sides of the cab and began to hurriedly unload what it carried in back. One of the men rushing by snatched open Kirken’s driver door to make it easier for him to get out.

  Kirken pulled the pack containing the remaining explosives from the passenger seat and swung his legs quickly out.

  A stink of blood still coming from the cab filled his nostrils and choked his throat. When he slammed the door behind him, it was quickly swallowed up by the smell of smoke and burning gasoline.

  He ran after the men who were pulling open the truck’s rear cargo door. He kept his head down to hide the blood and wounds that covered his face. He became quickly lost in the pile of bodies scrambling into the back to drag out its load.

  One of the soldiers threw a heavy box down next to him and motioned for him to grab it at one of its ends. Kirken took the side offered to him and rushed alongside the soldier
helping him haul the heavy box into the building.

  Another explosion came from outside the gates causing the soldiers clambering about to unload the trucks scramble even faster. Five men drove forklifts to the rear of both trucks to extract what remained.

  Kirken followed the soldier through the doors of the armory. Together they heaved the box across a stack of others at the back of a small receiving room just past the outer doors. Men with crowbars pulled at the crates knocking a few on their sides and causing their contents to spill across the floor. Kirken felt his eyes open wide at the sight of automatic, chemical and rocket weaponry strewn haphazardly across his feet.

  The soldier he had helped carry in the crate bent over and quickly scooped up two of the larger weapons from the piles. He stuffed one into Kirken's hands and knocked another crate near him crashing to the ground. Kirken stooped next to him and filled his pockets and gear with the ammunition clips that spilled from its side.

  Kirken looked up at the man next to him and saw the fear he felt himself race noticeably behind his eyes.

  The left side of the soldier's face was badly burned. Just above his left ear where hair should have been was only charred skull. Blood seeped from a wound where pierced metal still protruded from the skin along his arm.

  Like Kirken, quick shallow gasps rasped from the young soldier’s throat.

  The sound of excited voices and automatic weapons fire thundered loudly outside.

  The soldier lowered his head and stared at his weapon while he jammed ammunition quickly into its empty chambers. When he was through, he glanced up briefly at Kirken and then pulled his eyes away. He ran back towards the open door where more soldiers continued to drag weapon crates away from the blasts still coming from the exploding trucks.

  Kirken stood up and ran after him. When they met the rush of soldiers coming back in their direction, Kirken pushed away and became lost in the crowd. He pressed through to its edges and slipped into the shadows of the dark decrepit building.

  As he did, he watched the soldier he had helped haul in the large artillery box disappear outside the door.

  Kirken slid along a crumbling stone wall away from the troops carrying the crates. A few more steps down the corridor, a staircase appeared suddenly from the shadows on the wall to his left.

  Kirken dashed up the steps fleeing the soldiers and welcoming the comforting darkness of the unknown gloom. The deluge of the soldiers’ voices and the explosions outside disappeared behind him leaving him alone to run from his own monsters chasing him through the dark.

  He darted away from the shouting voices that came from behind the entrance doors to each floor. Some hung partially open allowing him brief glimpses of what was inside.

  What he saw numbed his mind and made him desperately want to just squeeze his eyes shut.

  Hundreds of soldiers poured through the floors of the compound reaching for the assault weapons and sophisticated tracking equipment strewn and jammed across every open space of wall and floor. The large doors of the bank vaults were wedged wide open revealing piles upon piles of additional weapons inside.

  Kirken saw all this at a glance. Taking the steps more than three at a time, his terrified breath echoed like rapid gunshots through the metal stairwell. He didn’t break his stride until he reached the thirty-fifth floor and the large metal door that led to the entrance of the roof.

  There he ripped his pack from his shoulders and threw it next to him onto the ground. He snatched hurriedly at the straps holding the holovid safely within.

  He bent over and leaned across the stairs as another violent stomach retch escaped his throat. Blood hammered hard from his heart. The feeling was so intense he could feel the pressure of his pulse pressing outward from the backs of his eyes.

  He ripped open the holovid and looked nervously down the stairwell as the device breathed to life. When he finally looked back, General Tuttle's rigid expression encompassed most of the screen.

  "Tuttle."

  "Kirken?" Tuttle responded anxiously. "Are you in?"

  "I'm in," Kirken answered hoarsely. "I'm about to get out on the roof. So far I don't think I’ve been detected."

  "We haven’t seen or heard anything,” Tuttle spoke quickly. “We’ve been monitoring most of their communication and surveillance transmissions. We haven’t come across anything so far that would make us think they’ve been alerted to your presence. But you won't be able to transmit from there for long. The signal will be picked up pretty quick."

  "General, what they’re readying here. It’s way more than you think. Rockets, ammunition and troops. Men and weapons. They're all over the goddamn place. They're preparing a major offensive. It’s going to come from right here."

  "We’re aware," Tuttle responded gravely. "We’ve detected an enormous surge in troop movement heading towards your area. They're coming from all over the region and massing in Beuford. Amounts are staggering. It won't be long before we're forced to attempt a firebomb from the air."

  "Tuttle, from what I’ve seen…the sheer amount of men that are already here…” Kirken’s voice rose and lowered again as fought to keep from betraying the panic he felt.

  "We know,” Tuttle’s voice was earnest and grim. “Dome 15 is in grave danger. We've been watching this progression closely. As of yet, we still haven't been able to get a demolition unit in. Both single-man and smaller squads have breached the perimeter, but that’s it. It’s as far as they got before meeting resistance. Most were killed. Some were forced back. You are by far the deepest one in. "

  Kirken tried to ignore the sickness in his heart and stomach. He looked away from the holovid toward the pack of explosives next to him on the floor.

  "For what it’s worth, there’s not much left,” he said looking back. “I don't have much left.”

  "How many?"

  "Five," Kirken replied. “Five working undetonated explosives.”

  "Who would have thought everything would have come to this?" Tuttle breathed out slowly. "Listen to me, Commander. You’re going to have to set them all up to go at once. Simultaneous detonations. We can’t risk one of those troops finding and neutralizing one in between. We’re going to need the most damage you can possibly get with what you have left to keep this from being a wasted effort."

  “It’s not going to be enough,” Kirken whispered at the screen. “Five, even detonated together and undetected, will not be enough. Not enough to get it all.”

  “No, most likely not,” Tuttle responded just as quietly. “Five most likely will not be nearly enough.”

  Kirken dropped his eyes away from the screen.

  "Commander, you haven't been given many choices," Tuttle continued in a hurried grave tone. “But there is one that you do still have. You can choose how this will all end. Right here. Don't let the world we live in win. And don't leave it without a fight."

  “In most other times I’d agree with you,” Kirken said still looking down. “But it’s not even me I’m worried about in here.”

  "And that is why you have to come out, Commander."

  Kirken raised his head. A faint tear glistened near the corner of his eye.

  "Hide yourself away somewhere and begin constructing your explosive set. By combining the explosions together you might get just enough of a blast to bring the entire building down. And not give any of them a chance to get out. It’s the only way it’s going to work. You're going to have to make sure that's the way you set it up."

  "What if I can’t get this done? You’re going to have to risk a nuke. Send one in and take care of this place. It’s just a matter of time before that dome is discovered. Best we damage or destroy it ourselves with a nuclear bomb rather than letting them come in, ransack it, then take it out."

  "We don’t see it coming to that. Air and ground teams should be able to launch once you initiate the blast. Our response efforts will still somewhat hinge on your success, but if you can bring enough of that building down or just do enough damage to oc
cupy their forces there, we should be able to launch a large enough assault within the hour to annihilate whatever’s left."

  Kirken looked down away from the holovid again. Through the corner of his eyes, he could see Tuttle watching him sadly from the busy command room on the other side of the screen.

  He was about to say more when the sound of voices came faintly from the bottom of the stairwell. Numerous excited voices accompanied by heavy footsteps. Kirken slammed the holovid shut and threw it to the edge of the stairs.

  The voices became louder and more close as additional soldiers entered the stairwell.

  Kirken took two steps back, lowered his shoulder and charged at the door. Flying across broken pieces of shattered wood, he rolled twice over in the rooftop sand. He quickly pulled himself from the wreckage and ran to the guardrails surrounding the roof's sudden edge.

  Looking around for soldiers possibly already out on the roof, Kirken pulled his pack from his shoulders and dropped the five explosive charges and a small black box in front of him in the dirt. Using tiny tools he pulled from the gear hooked to his side, he pried away the fronts of their control panels and began adjusting their controls to synchronize the blast timers.

  He then pulled apart the black box and made the necessary adjustments to remote detonate the entire explosive set should the need for that come to arise. When he was through, he tucked the tiny box securely into his gear near the holstered weapon hanging from his belt.

  With the explosives and remote prepared and set, he chipped a hole into the decayed brick of the building's upper wall and jammed the first charge inside. He pushed it deep enough within to conceal the tiny blinking lights signaling power to the device.

  He filled the hole with gravel and sand to further camouflage it from the view of any soldiers that might happen by. Satisfied it was hidden completely from sight, he hurried toward the shattered doorway and darted through.

  Holding onto the rails and leaping down stairs whole sections at a time, he charged down the stairwell to the door of the eighth level. He pressed his head against it. Not hearing anything on the other side, he slowly pushed it in.