Typhoon of Steel

by Marshall Miller

  A few dozen more made it across on foot when strong winds blew two people off the overpass remains and into the freezing water below. Hours later, as the river actually froze over, the two bodies bobbed to the surface and were frozen in the rivers surface, a grim reminder to others. The rest, over five hundred, quickly looked for shelter in some abandoned and stripped farm houses along the freeway and connecting roads. As Talbot tried to yell orders over the hand held radios to head south from the freeway and connect with the units beginning to travel up the parallel roadway, only some two dozen attempted to follow his orders. Half of these Krakens would become lost in the near white out conditions and would freeze to death.

  A former bank armored car and a Bradley made it across the smaller bridge first. Then, the freezing rain and icy snow began to hit in earnest. Within minutes, the roadway was a sheet of ice. Transport vehicles such as buses and pick-up trucks began to slip and slide, skidding off the road and into ditches. Finally, Talbot had enough, and used his radio again.

  “Everyone, stay where you are. Pull to the side of the road and wait until you hear from me. Wait this storm out.”

  What he did not realize was that would take some thirty-six hours. A day and a half where he would lose numbers to frostbite, hypothermia. At least one SUV full of armed personnel would be found with the engine running, the occupants dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. The dozen who had crossed on foot then followed his directions, finally hooked up with the units on the west side of the river, half-frozen. A burned out gas station was used as shelter, several discarded oil drums used as makeshift stoves by filling them with whatever would burn.

  All along I-70 up to the outskirts of Topeka, groups of Krakens huddled around their vehicles and makeshift bonfires. At some if those bonfires, the smell of barbequed pork soon wafted into the freezing rain swept air. Only it wasn’t pork.

  The units at the tail end of the extremely stretched out column were stuck around Topeka. The problem for them was a shortage of vehicles. Even with people crammed in the busses, RVs. cattle trucks and semis, at the start of the attack there were some two thousand Krakens who had to be moved in waves in order to keep them in sight of the rear vehicles. Now, with small unit attacks by the defenders, snipers, and vehicle accidents, it was worse. Thus, several thousand moved back into the edges of Topeka, looking for shelter. Just as they were starting to get comfortable, the hardy local Kansas defenders began attacking. They were used to the bad winters, and they knew the area. The Krakens, many from the southwest and California, neither knew nor were prepared. A rot began to set in among the rear personnel.

  In Salina proper, Captain Vasiliev was talking through a secure email connection with Malmstrom Armed Forces Base. Finally, he smiled, and broke the connection.

  “Well, Colonel Mills, the weather is so bad we cannot even get a decent picture from a hacked satellite, or a drone. Which tells me that General Winter is doing a fine job of destroying the Krakens’ plans, and probably freezing some of them to death. Just like in the great patriotic war with the fascists.”

  “Yes,” answered the American Colonel. “My Kansas militia members have already found some frozen Krakens with no other signs of violence. They definitely do not understand blizzards and snowstorms.”

  Captain Vasiliev chuckled. “Yes Sir. And Colonel Popov sends his regards. He will be down here soonest with some two thousand regular army, including a thousand of my countrymen. General Reed will have a full division to hit the Kraken mess of a column in the northern flank in seventy-two hours. Your militia and Colonel Popov’s forces are to, as your General Patton once said, hold them by the nose while the others kick them in the ass.”

  That brought a satisfied grunt from the Colonel. “I’d just as soon poke them in the ass with a sharp bayonet. Then gut them with a dull spoon.” Colonel Mills knew personally some of the civilian casualties. Rumors of what was being cooked around the Kraken campfires was beginning to reach him. He wanted to tear into them so bad that he could taste it. Captain Vasiliev looked at the tightened jaws of the Colonel.

  “Have you ever heard the stories of what out women soldiers used to do with captured Nazis? Perhaps that will help us pass the time while many more Krakens freeze to death. Here, Colonel, please join me a drink of vodka. A toast to frozen and dead Krakens. And to a few live prisoners for the women to play with.”

  CHAPTER 6

  MALMSTROM ARMED FORCES BASE

  GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  Torbin Bender was at his home in the Base housing area holding his sleeping twin sons, one in each arm. He had just feed them again some of Aleks’ expressed breast milk they kept in bottles in the refrigerator. A short time in the bottle warmer and voila, instant nourishment. Almost as good as fresh from Aleks’ herself. All of the time he had spent rubbing Aleks’ pregnant tummy, talking to them in the womb with a calming, male voice had paid off. Now, if he talked to them in the same manner, maybe reciting a nursery rhyme from his childhood, they did not fuss. Once they had a full stomach and Dad’s calming voice, and bam, out like a couple of lights. They seemed to know that when Dad was around, they were protected, and all was right with their world.

  The whole concept of having sons was all still pretty new to him. About a year ago, the idea of having children was completely foreign. Now, it seemed like the most natural thing in his world, and he wondered why he had never thought of it before. He glanced at the wall clock. The witching hour approached, and Aleks was still working. Training had been suspended as the training staff was put on alert for possible deployment. All of the staff, that is, except for Abigail and Torbin. Even Ichiro was down with the Japanese air unit, getting checked out again in fighters, his original job in Japan.

  Since o-dark-thirty that morning, Aleks had been with the General’s Command Staff, trying to ascertain why this attack had happened so fast, so unexpectedly. And now, to determine a correct response. As head of the Intelligence Unit assigned to the General, Aleks was one of the go-to people the General would use.

  Torbin was left out, marking time. He had come home when the balloon went up and their babysitter, Sue Brown, had to go home and say goodbye to her husband, Lt. Brown. But with training suspended, the General refusing to answer his telephone calls, staying at home with his sons was the most constructive thing he could do. It just that there was a gnawing in his gut that he should once again be charging to the sound of the guns. He heard a familiar vehicle engine pull up near the duplex. Aleks was home. Torbin carefully put his twin sons into their bassinets, quietly went to the front door. He slipped through it and met Aleks.

  “Glad to see you home, babe.” Aleks looked worn, yet she still managed to smile.

  “Glad to be here, if only for a short while.”

  Torbin frowned as he opened the door for his wife. “You can’t stay home, and get some sleep?”

  Aleks sighed. “I have to go back, to help get Fanny up to speed on all the information. Then I can get some sleep. I need a shower, and to use the breast pump. This chest of mine keep filling up quickly. My metabolism must still be in overdrive.”

  “Do you want your back washed?”

  Aleks smiled at her love. “Yes, that would be nice. As long as it is just my back you wash. I’m too tired for anything else.”

  “Here, you go get in the shower. I’ll get you some clean underwear. The kids are sleeping soundly. I just fed them.”

  Aleks reached over and kissed him. “Someone up above must like me to have found you. A woman could not ask for a nicer husband.”

  “Hey, we’re in this together. Besides. I have to do something to help the war effort, being as the General wants to keep me on base.” Aleks knew his inability to go to the sounds of gunfire was grating on him. And anything that hurt him hurt her.

  “Come, meet me in the shower. Bring the baby monitor with you. I’ll talk to you in the shower, bring you up to speed on what’s going on.”

  “Deal. Be there in sixty.”

>   Aleks shucked her uniform with practiced ease. There was a fresh one hanging in her closet, as this one was getting a little ripe. Stress had a tendency to make one sweat more, despite the cold weather.

  True to his word, Torbin was back in sixty seconds, baby monitor, extra towels and clean underwear for Aleks in hand. He was already naked. She looked at his body, and felt a bit of a stirring in her lower regions. But she was too pressed for time, and too tired to do much about it. At least she could read the menu.

  Torbin smiled. “See something you like?”

  “I see something I love. Come here.” They embraced, kissed deeply, Aleks quickly feeling the response of Torbin’s body. But she could not enjoy it right now, there was too much to do.

  “Darling husband, could I have what you Americans call a rain check? I really want to spend time with you, alone. But duty calls.”

  Torbin smiled again. “Rain check duly noted. Now, hop in the shower, start washing up. Then, I’ll do your back.”

  Ten minutes later and Torbin was giving a combination back rub and wash in the shower. Aleks moaned with appreciation. “You have always given the best back rub, my love. It helps take the tension out of my neck and shoulders.”

  “I give great front rubs, too. Just ask around.” Normally, that smartass remark would have prompted a shot to the ribs. But Aleks was too tired. She turned around, hugged him, enjoying the feel of her body against his.

  “Darling husband, you do most things well. That is why I know it is extremely frustrating that you are not allowed to go to the fighting in Kansas. But I will have to admit, I have a selfish glee that you are here safe, with me. I think you and I have earned a rest from violence and killing. They can use our skills next time, maybe when the trolls are older.

  Torbin sighed. “The General won’t even return my calls. I know he knows what I want to bug him about. I also know his reasoning. But that doesn’t mean it makes me happy.”

  He moved back a bit from the hug, tilted his wife’s head back so he could look down into her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you and the kids. But I feel a responsibility to fight. I’m incredibly conflicted.”

  “I know, husband. I want to get into the mix of things also. But to be separated from you and the boys would be horrible right now. So, I do what I can here.”

  Just then, the baby monitor beeped a bit, signaling activity in one of the cribs. Torbin and Aleks looked at it, then at each other.

  “Another duty calls, husband. How about two rain checks?”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth. Come on, I’ll dry you and you can go to the kids. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Have I told you lately how much I love you, Torbin?”

  “No need to, babe. I can see it in your eyes.”

  CHAPTER 7

  BLOODY KANSAS

  UNOCCUPIED STATES OF AMERICA

  Twenty-four hours after the storm had hit, and Colonel Anton Popov was in place with the first part of his blocking force. His Siberian Russians had moved the quickest, being long used to quick movement in bad weather. The Americans were not far behind. About twenty-four hours behind this movement, there would be the full First Division coming down from the center of Nebraska, ready to hit the Krakens on the northern flank. That attack would occur after the worst of the storm was past. Otherwise, there was too much chance of blue force fratricide under horrible visibility conditions.

  His Russians were digging in around the outskirts of Salina, in direct opposition to the Kraken force coming down the state and county roads that were parallel to I-70. After the overpass destruction, the Kraken Commander, apparently recognizing his forces’ limited ability to maneuver, had not bothered to try moving back to the Interstate. Besides, the elevated roadway was an ice skating rink. And the wind and ice were only now beginning to let up.

  Colonel Popov had a primary Infantry Force, with some twenty technicals coming down with the Americans. The local militia had provided an old Sherman Tank that some collector had kept in his backyard, its main gun replaced with an operational Russian T-34 76mm gun from WWII. Almost the same size as the original, 75mm, it fit just fine. He had a four gun Canadian battery of former ceremonial twenty-five pounders with some ammunition, as well as some Russian 82mm mortars. That was the extent of his artillery, mechanized and armor equipment. Some half dozen Russian-made Kodiak Assault Guns were slowly making their way down to his location on the back of heavy semi-truck flat beds. Due to their slow speed but heavy armor, they could be of use as mobile pillboxes, not as an armor maneuver element. The maneuver element, some U.S. and Canadian main battle tanks, would be coming with the flanking division.

  It was the Colonel’s mission to hold onto the nose of the attack, to keep them occupied while the full division kicked them in the ass. So, he was to be defensive in nature only. Which, recognizing his limited forces, was fine with him. About twenty-five hundred regular plus militia forces concentrated under his command in Salina was not a force to try and attack many thousands more of the enemy slowly advancing toward them. They were to set up a ‘killing field’, and let the Krakens come to them. The bad weather had not only frozen the attackers in place, but it had also extremely limited the U.S. forces from gaining any information from air surveillance. One hardy soul had taken up his private plane, and somehow had kept the winds and ice from crashing him. He had done one fly over of the I-70 area back some five miles from the furthest point the Kraken forces had moved from the destroyed overpasses. He had obtained a picture of people huddled around fires and vehicles, trying to get or stay warm. Colonel Popov had been correct in his suspicions. The Krakens were not prepared for bad weather past a few snow flurries.

  He was looking over the local maps for the tenth time with Colonel Mills, the Militia Commander. He also looked at the handful of photos the small aircraft pilot had obtained.

  “This pilot needs a hero’s medal. How he was able to fly without the weather killing him, take pictures, and not get shot down is beyond me.”

  Colonel Mills grunted. “Transplanted Alaskan bush pilot. They have a reputation for being nuts, and flying in all sorts of weather.”

  The Russian Colonel smiled. “We are all a bit nuts to be here, trying to fight the Tschaaa, rather than just hiding, not drawing attention. But I never liked the idea of some slimy sea creature telling me what to do while eating other humans.” He pointed at the map. “There is the point of the spear. When the storm stops, they will continue down this road, East Old Highway 40. They can still connect with I-135 once thru Salina. If they do that, they can decide to go north or south, or get back onto I-70 and head west. I think after the problems General Winter is causing, there may be pressure to head back south after ravaging Salina.”

  “Can’t fault your logic there, Colonel Popov. But as spread out as the forty thousand Krakens are, I think the possibility of all of them being able to follow in some semblance of order as remote. I think we Kansans will be trying to track stragglers down for weeks.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Colonel Popov. “You are right. Thus, we stop them here at Salina, the First Division slams into their north flank, and we try to kill as many confused Krakens as possible. Then we help you track them down. Madam President and General Reed want prisoners to interrogate, as well as parade before the cameras, along with any proof of cannibalism.”

  Colonel Mill’s jaws tightened so much that Popov thought he was about to chip teeth. “I already have proof. Remains of humans taken from a large campfire. These fuckers are eating children, pure and simple. Trying to outsquid the Squids.”

  Colonel Popov produced a flask and two small cups, poured vodka in each.

  “Here, my fellow Colonel. A drink to the Gods of War, beseeching them to help us wipe out these two-legged monsters passing as humans. If it is possible, they make the Nazis’ and Stalin’s purges look like trips to the park.” They touched cups, threw the shots back.

  “Ah, nothing like Russian vodka to take th
e edge off. Now, Colonel Mills, you were telling me about a surprise your militia has come up with for a tank or two…”

  Talbot stood outside the former rock star tour bus that functioned as a command post. He looked at the overcast sky, feeling the wind. Things were finally beginning to clear up. He went back inside the bus.

  “All right people. Get the armored cars, tanks and personnel characters on the horn. Start them moving slowly down this Highway 40. There is still a lot of sheet ice out here, and heavy tank treads can act like ice skate blades. So, give lots of space between vehicles for braking. Got it? Just get people moving.”

  As the word was passed, information on weather caused casualties and injuries began to filter in. Some one thousand personnel had signs of frostbite or hypothermia. At least a hundred were found dead, frozen. But the worst was some five thousand just flat out were not reporting in, who had disappeared. Some may have been picked off by militia members. But many seemed to have just gone completely “off the grid”, never to be seen again. Talbot knew many of these were Krakens who decided that raping, plundering, and finding fresh meat and a warm place to cook it were more important than the organized invasion.

  Slowly the “point of the spear” armor units began moving. Talbot had a couple of the converted bank armored cars start out first, followed by an Abrams Tank, then a couple of Bradleys. He then began spacing the other main battle tanks, Bradleys, armored and unarmored transport vehicles, and started yelling for vehicles miles back to start moving. A few vehicles slid into ditches on sheets of ice. Luckily, none were the ones with military type firepower. But then delays were caused by either pulling the vehicles out or transferring the people in them to other transports. Still, the Kraken forces slowly chugged along, entering the outskirts of Salina from the northeast on East Old Highway 40. As the weather slowly cleared, the flatness of the surrounding area could readily be seen. This part of Kansas, like much of the midwest, was definitely flat earth.