by Doug Burbey
Every eye was on the remote monitor screens and televisions watching as the volunteer-driven truck bomb exploded into the expected mushroom, sending death and destruction with a ten-megaton yield. The world saw the broadcast images, horrified and hopeful at the same time. Exultation rippled around the world as the hazy scene cleared and dead demons coated the ground of the flattened city, nothing moving. Declan had a moment of hope that if you hit them hard and fast enough, the casualties could be limited. But the portal stayed open and demons started to again stream out, pausing briefly as they stepped into the human realm.
Satellites directed at the spot captured what happened next. The demons swelled, their skin glowed, and they changed. When they started moving again, they moved faster and looked even stronger. The entire Fort Bliss operations center began arguing around Declan about how it was possible that the same demon types that had been destroyed by tanks before were now seen ripping the newly arriving main battle tank reinforcements to pieces. The radiation appeared to have altered the exposed demons into something now even worse.
When Declan finally left the operations center, forty-eight hours later, the military forces in combat had managed to force the demons back into the portal this time, but the costs were staggering. Over 2 million civilians were assumed dead or missing. The situation reports being circulated were grim. The military strength of the US had now been depleted by twenty percent in a single battle as battalions of men were dropped into the zone, one after the other. Everyone knew that the soldiers heading into the urban battlefield wasteland were all but dead the moment they got there. If the demons didn't kill them the lingering radiation would.
Over the next month Declan read the after-action reports on how the humans killed demons by the thousands and halted their advance, but of the 150,000 military personnel that went into that battle, only 131 walked out alive. Within the next 45 days, 29 of the survivors died of radiation poisoning, 74 unexpectedly committed suicide and the final twenty-seven simply disappeared back into the nation's population. With the unexpected nuclear consequences in Minneapolis, the politicians and military leadership agreed that nuclear weapons were not the answer and more research was needed. The battlemages and SSAU were now ordered to fully deploy into the war to win it, no matter the cost.
The city of Minneapolis was still a radioactive hot zone on January 7th, 2015 when the U.N. General Assembly was called into session to hear from a man named Lwellyn Ich Salidian. Declan and Shane sat in the 1st SSAUs Headquarters watching on television as Mr. Salidian claimed to have critical information about the war that he would only share with a global body and not a lone nation-state. His revelation that humans were not alone on the Earth, and in fact that he was not human, made Declan frown but as he looked over at Shane, he noticed a quizzical smile crossing his friend's face.
This Salidian man went on to claim that he was the local leader of a race spread throughout the human world in small numbers, called the Fae. Placed in our realm to act as scouts, they monitored our own realm's development, assessed possible threats to their own realm, and alerted their home realm of any demon appearances in ours. They had been on earth long enough that their earliest encounters with humans spawned the human mythology of elves before they learned the skills to hide completely camouflaged in human societies. The Fae had fought the demons through their history, with devastating losses, before they successfully shut off the passage from the demon realm to the Fae realm.
According to the Fae leader, their world was one of magical balance where they have long since embraced the inherent properties of life and magic. But even their own mastery of the energies around them, that they claim humanity has strangely chosen to ignore somehow, was not enough for them to defeat the demons outright. Even though they closed their own realm to all portal intrusions from the demon world, they believe the lending of an army to aid the humans is not one that the Fae are willing to take.
In the weeks that followed the SSAU began to receive advisors from the Fae to incorporate into their training as magical instructors. Shane began to immerse himself with them as they took over the instruction of the human battlemages. The Fae advisors were unanimous in their belief that if the humans could learn to balance the power of their own magics with that of the ingenious human machines of war then maybe, just maybe, humanity could survive the onslaught of death that the foul aberrations of corrupted life will bring to destroy them.
Even past Declan's cadre of SSAU members, the Fae scouts began to provide the human governments with a trove of information on demonic tactics, weaknesses, and weaponry. But with no actual army in the human realm, and none would ever come from the Fae realm, they offered to share with humans what they knew of magic to help in our fight against the hordes. Every nation on earth took up the Fae scout's offer of aid and began training much more proficient human mages, quickly.
Chapter 12
Battlemages Die Too – June 16th, 2015, Outside of Cordele, Georgia
Declan sat on the hood of his Humvee and slowly reloaded the magazines for his modified Vulture heavy .45 caliber carbine. Six months of bloodbaths and losses had driven the militaries of the world to begin crating new unique weapons to fight the hordes. For the SSAU it was the creation of a new personal weapon called the Vulture. A Vulture is possibly the ugliest weapon yet designed for the war, but its reliability and ability to handle the enhanced ammunition needed to take down a demon more than made up for its horribly bad aesthetics. Off to his right, a group of civilians were working on their weapons, male soldiers hanging around them, talking and flirting with the women in the group.
The pickup warriors were a welcome phenomenon. Average people with guns and an understanding that they would die. Most of them had no place to run to and there was a certain strain of Americans that didn't like running from anything.
Their weapons were subpar and their discipline was lacking, but their willingness to put their lives on the line earned them respect. Old, young, male, female, Goth, redneck, biker, preacher. He'd seen them all. Some of them excelled as snipers, being damn good with their larger bore rifles. More than once their contribution had made the difference between a platoon being slaughtered or some of them walking out alive.
A commotion pulled his attention from the pick-up trucks and collection of people willing to die for their homes. Coming out from a cluster of vehicles he could see Shane storming towards him and could tell he was pissed off.
Bet I know why. Too bad, so sad.
Newly promoted, Colonel Shane Gris stopped just inches from Declan and poked two fingers into the front of Declan's body armor. "There is no fucking way I am going to put my mages behind that line. They are precision tools to take out critical targets. They are not fucking line troops to be wasted with shit like what happened to the SSAU in New Orleans." His face flushed and eyes all but glowing.
Declan tried to remain calm, but the weariness creeping into his body and mind was making that difficult. "I know what they are, Shane. What you are. You're a devastating weapon system that we need to use to the best effect at the time they're needed. Right now, we have no Javelin anti-tank missiles left, only a handful of AT4s and the artillery is way the fuck out of position. So, we have nothing, no heavy firepower except for the battlemages. You're going to get on the fucking line like you were told and hold it."'
"I'm absolutely not going to put my guys out there to die and get turned into a bloody mist. Or did you forget that I outrank you now?" Shane began shouting.
Declan ran his hand over his freshly shaved head glaring straight at Shane. "You seem to forget that your colonel rank is provisional for command of the battlemages. I have operational command authority on this battlefield. We all agreed to this construct, including you."
Unconvinced, Shane snapped back. That's bullshit, Declan, and you know it. That authority is for you to be able to tell the ground troops leaders to die on command. Not my guys!"
"No." His voice flat and uncompromi
sing. "I, specifically, get to tell you to die too. You know what we have to do here." Declan pointed at the formation of massing troops. "Your battlemages are no better than those soldiers out there. Every one of them is going to die in about 30 minutes just to buy humanity another few hours of time. And, if the lives of a couple of your mages buys even more time. Well, then, that's what they're here for."
"My guys are here to be used at critical points on the battle. If you put them behind that line, as soon as they attack with magic, they're going to get oriented on by the demons and fucking slaughtered." Shane's finger began to spark slightly as his agitation heightened.
"Yeah, that's what is going to happen all of us eventually." Declan lowered his hand and started putting his magazines that he just refilled back into the ammo carrier on his body armor. Then pulled on his heavy black leather SSAU trench coat over his armor and uniform. The coat's enchanted underlying silver mesh conductor disbursement system had been designed by the Fae to absorb demonic magical attacks and some physical attacks. It was hot as balls but had already saved his life more than once. Which mean' he'd wear it. "Brother, today might just be our unlucky day, it's time for us to do what we need to do." Declan took the last magazine from his Humvee hood and placed it into his weapon pulling the charging handle back and seating the first round into the firing chamber.
Shane tried one more time. "Declan, you know every one of those guys out there is dead already, but they just don't know it yet. My guys might make a difference if they are not wasted."
"I think everybody knows that, Shane. Fuck you keep repeating it before every battle like it's the battlemage motto or something. Damn, I absolutely do know. Please don't ever forget that. Get your guys on the fucking line. I' it'll make you feel better, grab as many of the pickup warriors as you can and put them in front of your mages as a security detail. That's the best I got for you. All we can do is try, and I'll throw your mages as well as my regular troops at them until we are all dead. You have your orders." His voice dropped to a command level and he stared at Shane.
Declan turned away from Shane and started towards the formation where the commander of the 48th Infantry Brigade Combat Team of the Georgia National Guard was organizing his troops.
He approached the brigade commander who stood next to his huge wheeled mine-resistant armored personnel carrier, called an MRAP for short. Declan's Vulture was slung loosely across his chest, but his hand was on its grip. An SSAU commander was killed last month by a brigade commander that refused to comply with the prescribed tactics.
"Sir. I need a minute." Declan stated as patiently as possible, even though all they had left was minutes.
The brigade commander, Colonel Larry Southard, handed off a paper order to his executive officer and turned to face Declan a sneer on his face.
"What the bloody hell does the SSAU want now?"
"Sir, Any word from the 118th field artillery? We need to get them in the game."
"They have Bravo battery set now. So, they're standing by for my orders."
"Colonel Southard, why are they standing by?" He forced politeness into his voice. Beating the man with his Vulture might prove mess". "They need to start throwing steel. The horde is far enough from the portal now that they can use guided munitions without any interference from the portal's three-mile nullification zone. We must reduce as much of the horde as we can, starting right now, before we hit it."
"They're standing by because I fucking told them to! I want them to reserve munitions for final protective fires." The Colonel face flushed as he faced Declan head on.
Declan's finger twitched and tapped at the stock of his weapon reflexively. "Sir, there is no need for final protective fires. You need to get your troops mounted up, mass your formation tight and then close with the horde now while it's being prepped with artillery."
"Bullshit! We have the high ground and can defend here."
"That is totally fucking pointless. You have no way of knowing if the horde will even come this way. You must attack them before they reach and destroy Atlanta. Instead of just sitting on your ass here."
Colonel Southard pointed his finger straight at Declan's face while he reached down and put his hand on his pistol at his hip. "No fucking way am I killing my brigade because you said so."
Declan moved his weapons fire selector from safe to fire. The snapping of the safety to off was deadly audible. "Sir, you will remove your hand from your weapon immediately and pick up your radio and initiate a movement to contact maneuver. Your entire force needs to attack as one element against the horde right now! You will fight till you have nothing left to fight with!" He didn't look away and he started to prepare to kill another officer because they held to the stupid hope they could protect people.
Shane's right. We're all dead, we just don't know it yet. But I'll take as many of those damned bastards with me before I leave this earth.
The commander's executive office had stopped and pointed his rifle directly at Declan. "Sir! What do you want me to do?" The executive officer asked Colonel Southard nervously.
Declan felt a surge of magic raising the hairs on the back of his neck then heard Shane's voice from behind him. "You are going to do what you were ordered by the SSAU to do, soldier. Problem, Colonel Kenner?"
Declan glanced over his shoulder to see Shane gliding towards the group. Both of his hands were swirling with balled fire that seemed almost alive.
"No problem, Colonel Gris. Colonel Southard and I were just about to call in the artillery and move side by side with the troops and hit the horde. Weren't we sir?"
The executive officer stared at the balls of fire in the hands of the SSAU battlemage in front of him and then lowered his rifle.
Colonel Southard took his hand off his pistol and picked up his radio handset and called the field artillery battalion commander.
"Hickory six, this is Lightning six actual."
"Lightning six, this is Hickory six actual go ahead over."
"Hickory, I need your bravo battery howitzers to immediately begin a fire for effect mission on the horde location and continue the barrage as it advances."
"Lightning six, this is Hickory six. Understood. Continued rolling barrage. We will lift, then shift, the fires once you are engaged."
"Negative Hickory six. There will be no lifting of fires."
The field artillery commander paused for a few seconds before his voice came back over the speaker. "Sir…. When do we disengage fires? We'll be hitting you if we don't know when to stop firing."
Declan could see the barely controlled fury on the face of the brigade commander as he keyed the microphone to respond to his artillery commander. "You can stop firing when you run out of fucking ammo or the demons are all dead. But, not before. Apparently, the SSAU has decided that today is a good day for the Lightning Brigade to die."
Southard tossed the microphone back into the open MRAP door and bellowed towards his senior NCO. "Sergeant Major, in five fucking minutes I want the brigade formed up in the open. Tight wedge formation. Vehicles bumper to bumper on both sides with a march speed slowed to pace the dismounts, mortars to the rear, dismounts in the middle…"
Everyone flinched slightly as the 155-millimeter artillery shells suddenly began to strike the hordes location. The rumbling explosions sounded less than 10 kilometers away.
"I think you better make that three minutes, Colonel," Declan said as he turned to Shane. "Where will you be, Shane? Middle or rear of formation. I think I'll be riding with the colonel here."
Shane shook the fire off his hands with a flick of both his wrists then looked up at Declan with no emotions betrayed by his face. "I'm deploying my team with the mortars. We'll augment, and orient on, whichever flank breaks first and do what we can. Before we're killed."
"Thanks, Shane. I…"
"Save it, Declan." Shane looked up into the sky for a moment. "Yeah, it is a good day to die. The earth was an amazing place. It's still pretty, even though it's ful
l of nothing but dead people now." Then he turned and walked away to the massing infantry brigade assembling itself into a twisted version of an ancient Roman army phalanx."
Chapter 13
Let it Rain Blood – June 16th, 2015, 47 minutes later
After twenty minutes of driving, at the pace of the slowly marching dismounted infantry, the 48th Infantry Brigade slammed into the front line of the massed demon horde. The combat quickly devolved into close quarters hand to claw fighting. It was as if they had all been dropped into a giant meat grinder spitting out the blood and gore of demons and humans alike.
"Harvester!" Declan yelled into his microphone over his SSAU internal communications radio network. "Shane, all you got! Take out that fucking harvester!"
Shane's garbled response rang in Declan's earpiece as the brigade commander's MRAP he was riding in violently lurched on its wheels. The vehicle's driver had been killed when an artillery shell exploded outside the vehicle sending jagged metal fragments through his head. They were now being rammed by a creature that looked like a cross between a mutated elephant and an armored rhino that somebody had welded three-foot long metal spears all over.
A second massive collision hit the MRAP and Declan grabbed onto the handhold straps as he watched the rear door buckle and the brigade commander was impaled by one of the rhino's metal spikes that had penetrated the vehicle's armor. Colonel Southard slowly reached for the spike that had punctured his left side and now protruded from under his right arm. He seemed to try to say something, but only pink froth exited his mouth just before the door was ripped open and the impaled colonel was pulled from the vehicle by clawed orange arms as large as a man's thigh.