Typhoon of Steel

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Typhoon of Steel Page 32

by Marshall Miller


  As John Reed scanned for other threats, Alina Federov, with practiced ease, went to each of the dead men and recovered their pistols.

  “Two Glocks, my General. You Americans seem to have a love affair with them.”

  “They’re cheap and reliable. Any spare magazines?”

  “Hm. Just one.”

  From outside came the sound of loud automatic fire mixed with other reports.

  “General, Madam President, please head back upstairs with the pistols, protect my President.”

  Alina Fedrov appraised John Reed with an incisive look.

  “Would that all Presidents have such loyal soldiers, General.”

  “I try, Ma’am, I try. Now, I’m going down stairs to take a look at who else is wandering around. I promise I’ll be just a moment.” They both knew he was probably lying.

  “Godspeed, John Reed. I know why your Russian wife loved you so.”

  With that, Alina turned and lunged up the stairs. John had not thought of his wife. She had been strong like this Alina Federov. But back to the task at hand. He cut the pie as he checked down the stairs to the main floor, not seeing any other threats. There was still loud small arms fire from out front and to the side of his building, toward the small motor pool garage he had arranged to have constructed some fifty yards from the main building.

  That’s right, he thought. Ranger Andrew Jackson and the General’s driver Sergeant Leon Pasqual had stayed with the President’s and his vehicles. He glanced down the main floor hallway to the now open double doors and saw a parachute blow by. Fuck. Airborne troops. They were in for it now. He stepped back into an open doorway and knelt down. Well, Lord God, he thought. If you are thinking of helping us from on high, I’d sure could use it now.

  Ranger Jackson was teaching Sergeant Pasqual the finer points of Texas Hold ‘Em when the Alert klaxon went off.

  “What’s that, Leon?” Ranger Jackson asked.

  “Alert klaxon. Something big is happening. Let me check.” Leon pulled out his cell phone and tried to call Security Control. All he got was a busy signal. He frowned. “I can’t get through. That means everyone is tied up, probably with something bad.”

  The Ranger stood up, setting his cards on the table. “You have any weapons here?”

  “A 12 gauge and a pistol in the staff car trunk.”

  “Get them out, Sergeant. I have that old feeling that the cow shit just hit the fan.”

  The former Texas Ranger went to the President’s vehicle and popped the trunk just as he heard an explosion from the far side of the HQ Building. He grabbed a 3D printer assault rifle and a .30.30 lever action rifle. The lever action rifle was a weapon handed down through generations in his family, and a weapon he used to carry as a Texas Ranger. He had more faith in it than the space age polymer assault rifle that Pappy Gunn had developed. Of course he still had his Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum revolver on his hip. He had put the Commemorative Pistol to good use over the last few years, proving that a pretty gun can still be functional.

  Sergeant Pasqual walked up to him with an M-9 Beretta stuck in his belt and a Mossberg pump shotgun in his hand. As he did, the heard the sound of a motorbike approaching the area at high speed. The Ranger went to the garage door and looked out in time to see two figures leap from a dumped over motorbike and then run into the Headquarters building.

  “Cover me, please, Sergeant. I don’t like the looks of these visitors.”

  As he started toward the building front entrance, another pair of attackers on a motorbike appeared from the far side of the building. They had been the cause of the explosion. The passenger on the rear of the bike tried to bring a submachine gun to bear as a .30-30 round slammed into his chest. The dying attacker fired off a wild burst of fire as he toppled off the motorbike, the driver now trying to accelerate out of danger. His head exploded as another carbine round found its intended target. The riderless two-wheeled vehicle went spinning out of control onto the roadway.

  “Damn! You’re good, Ranger,” Sgt. Pasqual opined from behind Jackson.

  “Years of practice. Now, cover me as I make my way to the front and get those other two.”

  At that moment an object dropped from the sky. The parachutist flared out his chute just before landing with practiced ease, hitting quick release handles as another twin of him landed a dozen yards away. The first parachutist saw the Ranger and yanked his assault weapon from an attachment rig on his chest. Ranger Jackson fired his .30-30 the round hitting the body armor of the intruder and causing him to fall backwards. Even as he hit the ground, the enemy soldier fired back at the Ranger, the Ranger’s tactical armor saving him by stopping the soft point round.

  Sgt. Pasqual began firing his 12 gauge at the two parachutists, as the Ranger retreated to the cover of the garage building. They were soon embroiled in a firefight as other parachutists were seen landing around the main base area.

  “Goddamnit, I need to get to the President. She has no guns,” the Ranger cursed as he kept firing his lever action until it was empty. The grabbed up the 3D Assault Rifle and chambered a round.

  “Again, cover me, Sergeant.”

  “Wait, there are too many. There should be some security forces headed this way.”

  “No time. Sal needs me.”

  With that, Ranger Andrew Jackson began running fast for a man his age, firing bursts from his assault weapon as he moved toward the Headquarters Building and his President. He took the legs out from under one of the attackers with a burst. The Ranger hit another one in the tactical vest and took him down with a partial penetration. Then he went down.

  Sergeant Pasqual yelled out in anger, cursing in Patois French. He was surprised when someone yelled back at him in French with a Quebecois accent. He yelled, almost screamed in anger, firing his shotgun until he was out of ammunition. He grabbed his M9 pistol and began firing. Dozens of rounds began to hit around him, passing into the garage and peppering the two staff vehicles. Leon Pasqual ducked down, cursing.

  The firing from the parachutists let up as they scrambled out of the way of two approaching creatures. A pair of Eaters with a bearded Kraken behind them, manipulating a small radio-like apparatus, passed through the armed attackers. As the man and the two alien creatures advanced toward the main entrance of the headquarters building, Pasqual peaked out from the garage in time to see Ranger Andrew Jackson raise up from a prone position and fire his large revolver. The .357 round hit the controller operating Kraken male in the chest and the man fell to the lawn. The Ranger emptied his pistol at the two Eaters, aiming his fire at the creature’s eyes. As the Eaters were hit, they began to spin around, letting out high pitched screams.

  Bursts of fire hit both the creatures, then Ranger Jackson. He jerked, fell back and lay still. Sergeant Pasqual screamed in rage, tears on his face, as he began to once again fire at the parachutists.

  Abigail was feeding Ichiro bites of the breakfast spread the hotel staff had provided for them. She laughed as she kept pulling the food back from the reach of his mouth just as he was about to take it, teasing him with the fruit and meats.

  “If you do not let me eat, my love, how can I keep my strength up for more of our honeymoon?” Ichiro asked through a large grin.

  “Oh dear,” Abigail said in faked wide eyed surprise. “I guess I’d better be nicer to you. After all, I plan a long day of activity, as you say.”

  Before Ichiro could respond, the two newlyweds heard the loud Base klaxon from just a few miles away. Abigail was up off the bed and grabbed her cellphone before Ichiro knew what she was doing. She hit the speed dial for Security Control and held the phone to her ear. A frown formed on Abigail’s face.

  “No answer, the line is busy.” She put down the cellphone down. “That means something very bad is happening.” She reached for her underwear.

  “We need to get to the Base, Ichi. There is something bad, evil there. I can feel it.”

  Now it was Ichiro’s turn to frown.

 
; “But my love, it is your honeymoon. Can’t someone else respond?”

  “That is what we do, Ichiro. We are warriors, soldiers, we respond to protect others, honeymoon or not.”

  Ichiro face broke into a broad grin. “I knew that would be your answer. I just wanted to hear it. I love you, my warrior wife.” He grabbed Abigail and pressed his nude body up against hers for a passionate kiss.

  “Keep that up,” Abigail said as they parted. “And I’ll be too distracted to go to the Base.”

  Someone pounded on the suite door. Ichiro bounded to the door, katana in hand, and threw it open. Standing about to pound again was Brynhildr. Her eyes widened a bit as she looked at the naked Samurai. She was a bit speechless, a rare condition for her. Ichiro noticed her demeanor and smiled.

  “What? You have never seen a naked samurai before?”

  Brynhildr snorted a bit. “Truth is, no. But the matter at hand is the Base is under general attack. Krakens, Eaters, Beasts, you name it.”

  Abigail, slipping into her sports bra, called out to her cousin. “What are you doing here?”

  The Shield Maiden smiled. “A certain person in charge of federal law enforcement told me that I was not to allow anyone to disturb or molest you two. However, he did not foresee a general attack on Malmstrom Armed Forces Base and the two Presidents.”

  Abigail waved at her cousin. “Go. We will follow shortly. The Base needs you, and us.”

  Brynhildr switched to Norwegian. “This will be a day of great battle, I can sense it. You be careful, cousin. I do not want you or your love hurt on your honeymoon. Thor’s Hammer is in our hand.”

  Abigail smiled. “You be careful also. I want to be at your and Rolf’s wedding. Now, go. We will catch up.”

  Brynhildr turned and ran down the hotel hallway, then down the stairs. Her partner David Jackson was in the front of the hotel, loading weapons into their vehicle.

  “The two newlyweds are up and moving. They will be following us shortly. Now, it is time to go. You are a good driver, yes?”

  “Yes Ma’am. I’ve raced go-karts and dirt bikes before…”

  “Before you were in prison,” Brynhildr finished the sentence for him. She looked at David.

  “You are tough, capable. We need tough and capable. Everything else is ancient history.”

  She smiled. “You will help me swing Thor’s Hammer and crush the evil ones.”

  David laughed. “You sure have a way with words. Now, please hold on. This is going to be a quick and rough.”

  Torbin and Aleks were running, cutting across grassy areas and through small roadside flower beds when they saw the first parachutists begin to swoop in toward the Headquarters Building. One of them, blown a bit astray by the wind, swung toward them. The man in the chute saw them, and tried to bring his slung weapon to bear. Torbin automatically shoved Aleks toward cover behind a bush. As he did, he raised his M-1 Garand, leading the descending parachutist as he opened up. He emptied the eight round en bloc clip and watched it “ping” from the weapon. He hit his target enough times that the figure sprawled as it hit the ground, the chute dragging the nonresponsive body away from the two defenders.

  Torbin had just reloaded his rifle when Aleks slammed into him.

  “You push me to safety one more time and I will have your balls for lunch!” she yelled. “I am a soldier—I can fight as well as you can any day.”

  And with that Torbin understood the problem they had mentioned years ago when women were allowed in more combat roles in the Marines. He had been told that men, especially if they had a personal connection, would automatically try to protect the female soldiers, not to mention ones they loved, which damaged the cohesiveness of the unit. Everyone covered everyone, women were no more worthy of protection than the next grunt.

  “Hey, sorry. I just…”

  “You just acted like an American asshole. Do not do it again.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Aleks looked at him. “I appreciate what you feel. I want to protect you also. But the Presidents and the General come first. Okay?”

  Torbin patted her rump, which caused another angry slap to his arm. Then Aleks burst out laughing. “You, my husband, are an impossible smartass.”

  “I know. That is what makes me so lovable. Now, shall we? Next time you get to push me to safety.”

  “Fat chance.”

  They continued their running, automatic fire coming from the Headquarters area, which they could now see in the distance. As the closed the distance, they saw one of the enemy point toward them and yell a warning to her comrades. Aleks cursed in Russian.

  “Time to go to ground, work our way in,” she said.

  “Roger that, Aleks.” They ducked behind a small stone planter as rounds began to zip over their heads. The two Allied Warriors returned fire as they looked for a way to get in closer.

  “There are at least a dozen of them. Torbin.”

  “Yeah. I think I see some Eaters coming too. We could use some help.”

  “Until then, it is up to us. Pick your targets,” commanded Aleks as she raised the assault rifle they had recovered from the dead parachutist.

  “This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is mine,” Torbin began the Marine Rifleman’s Creed as he shot. It helped calm him as he killed the enemy.

  Abigail and Ichiro made it to the Main Gate in record time, only a couple of minutes behind Brynhildr and David. As they approached, Abigail made sure the window was down so she could stick her head out for identification. Multiple voices from a Security Police Response Team yelled “the General” at her and waved her and Ichiro through. Abigail knew then then that the enemy already threatened General Reed and the Presidents. She pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor.

  “Maybe Brynhildr has reached…,” Ichiro started to say and stopped as soon as they saw the tableau they neared.

  In ditches on both sides of the roadway were each a vehicle. The vehicle on the left was a K-9 caged vehicle with a recognizable Sergeant Guadalupe Martinez and her dog Ginger at the rear, hunkered down behind it for cover. The vehicle on the right had Brynhildr and David Jackson behind it. Abigail saw why they had taken cover.

  Approaching the vehicle was a line of Pit Beasts and Eaters, somehow all directed to attack the occupants of the two vehicles. Under the front ends of both were dead Beasts that seemed to have thrown themselves into the front of the two transports to stop them. They had succeeded, as demonstrated by the ruined radiators and oil pans leaking large amounts of fluid. Brynhildr saw Abigail and Ichiro, waved and yelled at them.

  “Get to the Headquarters Building. Enemy Parachutists.” With that the Shield Maiden drew her large compound bow and let fly a broad tipped arrow into a nearby Eater, penetrating through its large eye to the brain. Both Jackson and Martinez began firing their weapons, hitting many of the attacking creatures. Abigail skewed the vehicle off to the right at about a forty five degree angle and accelerated. Up over curbing, across grass, the Avenging Angel drove in the general direction of General Reed’s office residence. A couple of Eaters tried to intercept her and Ichiro, but the SUV was too fast for them.

  “There is the building, Abby, just couple of hundred meters away,” said Ichiro. “We should…”

  The rest of his comment was interrupted by a baboon creature leaping and smashing through the windshield. Abigail screamed in anger and surprise, slammed the brakes on the vehicle. The monster was not tossed free, but instead tried to force its snapping maw into the vehicle and at Abigail. In one smooth motion, Ichiro used his Tanto blade and impaled the baboon beast up thru the lower jaw and into its brain. The creature shook, spasmed, and then lay still.

  “Are you alright, Abigail?”

  “Fine. Let’s get this thing off our vehicle…”

  Bullets began to impact the front of the vehicle, and Abigail and Ichiro ducked down behind the dashboard.

  “Out to the back, Ichi. Use the vehicle for cover.”

&n
bsp; “Hai. We move.”

  In unison, they kicked their doors open and dashed to behind the SUV.

  “Cover me with your pistol, Ichi. I’ll go thru the hatch back and get the rest of our gear.

  Some sixty seconds later, as an occasional round hit in the vicinity of the damaged vehicle, Abigail had their weapons out, handing Ichiro his long bow.

  “Now I’m glad we decided to bring our weapons on our honeymoon, my love.”

  “We are warriors. Being without weapons is unnatural, Abigail.”

  Abigail unsheathed her favorite lever action Marlin and peaked around the corner of the vehicle. “Someone else is shooting at what looks like those parachutists we were told about. From the south side of the building, near the garage and motor pool shots are being fired. Someone else is firing from due west, out from the front main entrance of the building.”

  “Is there a way for us to approach, Abby-san?”

  “Well, we could try for the motor pool building, use it for cover…No. The enemy is rushing the front. The President and General Reed…no!”

  Before Ichiro could react, Abigail went into what they had come to call her Hyperdrive. Ichiro was fast, quicker than anybody on Japan. But when Abigail moved, it was even more of a blur.

  She was up and dashing toward the Headquarters Building, firing her rifle from the CQB crouch yet still managing to move at a near sprint. Her sudden assault seemed to catch everyone unawares. She shot and hit two attackers before anyone reacted. Ichiro cursed, launched an arrow from his longbow, and then joined her in the assault.

  Torbin swore as he saw from their position behind the brick planter that a familiar figure was dashing into danger. “Goddamnit Abigail,” Torbin swore again as he began to empty the clip in his Garand in an attempt to draw fire from Abigail. Aleks popped up and fired also, swearing in Russian.

  “Little sister, if you get yourself shot…” Both she and Torbin saw that Abigail was trying to prevent some of the parachutists from entering the building, but knew that reaching the entrance in time to prevent that was nigh impossible. Except for maybe Abigail.

 

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