Persecution

by Joshua Landeros

  ***

  Using the interstate 49, the convoy made excellent time and reached the midpoint of their journey as scheduled. Sergeant O’Shea rode in the Humvee behind the first, and behind him was the HEMT-truck. Flying high above them and far ahead was one of the Bell Boeing V-26 Osprey escorts, surveying the road up ahead. O’Shea watched from the backseat window as the aircraft slowed and then hovered over a specific spot.

  “Problems up there, Griffon?” he asked.

  “Yeah, looks like the highway is clogged with fucking wreckage.”

  “We can’t continue onto the 40?”

  “Presumably, yes, but it could take hours for you guys to sift through all those cars.”

  “Garuda, advisement?” O’Shea prodded.

  Garuda was the other Osprey accompanying them. Now the pilot was circling over the next city.

  “When you get to Rio Grande-Torreon divert left to Cuencamé City. If you head straight up Severino Ceniceros Street, it’s a straight shot to a clearer section of the 40.”

  “All right, you heard him, guys! Get ready to make the turn-off!”

  ***

  The road leading up to the city had nothing but desert on both sides, spotted with small bushes or cacti. The only thing left behind were broken down cars and these had been stripped bare.

  It wasn’t until they were less than a mile from the city that they saw something different lying in the dirt. Crows were picking at it, but they flew off as the first Humvee passed by. O’Shea saw what they’d been feasting on and could not look away. He should’ve, but instead, he found himself turning his head back as they left the sight behind without pause.

  It was the corpse of a little girl face down in the dirt. As the last of the convoy drove past her, a cloud of dust settled on top of the child and obscured her from sight. The crows knew better. They bided their time and circled overhead.

  The city up close and personal was not as scenic when viewed at a distance. The roads were littered with the remains of fallen structures, and what buildings did stand were scarred by bullets and explosions. None of this shocked the troops. They’d seen dozens of towns like just like this one. As they passed a church, though, atop it was the UNR flag. The beacon of hope in an otherwise dead landscape.

  “Kinda funny how we preserve the big cities, occupy ‘em and shit, but blow the little towns to hell,” commented the soldier seated next to O’Shea, Dean.

  “Because they’ll be either be demolished entirely once the war is over or turned into a teeming metropolis,” the sergeant said. “It’s all in the handbook, Private.”

  It was as they were nearing the Angel Zarraga Public Library that they came to a halt. The library itself had a huge hole blown into it, and thousands of books and torn pages covered the streets here. Amongst it all was a woman in the middle of the road.

  She appeared weak, already on her knees. In her arms was a small child. She yelled out to them, though none could hear her over their engines. As they came within ten meters, they screeched to a halt.

  In the second Humvee, O’Shea couldn’t see much.

  “Why’d we stop?” he asked.

  “Some lady is in the middle of the street,” answered a soldier from the first car. “She’s got a kid with her. Want to keep moving, sir?”

  O’Shea didn’t think long about it, “No, Hayer take a team and check it out.”

  “Copy that, Sarge!”

  The soldiers surrounded the woman, slinging their guns. One took the child, who as of now was silent. The other two checked on the woman who almost fell to the ground in her weakened state. Without missing a beat, they rushed to her aid.

  The civilian had severe burns on her arm and hand, fresh by the looks of it. They began to rip away some of her poncho to see the extent of the damage. It’s disgusting, thought Hayer, how often these civies get caught in the middle. This wasn’t the first time they’d been through this kind of situation. He couldn’t lie to himself even as he rushed to save her life: she would most likely die here in this ruined city. Her child didn’t have much better chances. This is a waste of time. But she was breathing, so he did his duty.

  “Get me a stretcher!” he yelled.

  As another soldier checked on the child, he felt for a pulse. The small boy, probably only five or six by the looks of it, also had similar burns. Still, the base wasn’t too far. Maybe the doctors could help him there. As he did so, his adrenaline rushing, he realized the child was dead. The boy’s pulse was still, his heart had already fallen silent.

  The woman said something else, a near whisper. This time Hayer could hear her. It sounded like a familiar language, English in fact. Still, it was so muffled he could barely make it out.

  “Come on, stay with me,” he said, preparing to remove the last piece of cloth.

  “For…my son,” she managed to say.

  Hayer looked back at the child, his friend slowly putting the corpse down. Then he looked back at the woman, startled to see a strange mechanical device strapped to her chest. It was located right on top of the sternum. It had been surgically planted on her, and on it was a flashing red light. It went green.

  “Shit,” muttered Hayer as he turned to run away. Two soldiers carrying a stretcher were only ten feet away.

  “Run!! Run!! Get away from—”

  Too late.

  O’Shea watched as an explosion overcame the unsuspecting men and women. People he’d known and loved like brothers and sisters gone in an instant. There was no time for mourning, not now. An enemy strike was imminent.

  Just as remaining soldiers got back to the first Humvee, a missile made contact. The vehicle exploded into a massive ball of fire. The remaining soldiers it had been occupying flew aflame and landed all over the battered road. O’Shea only had a few seconds to think, and his instincts told him to get out of the Humvee.

  “Dean, let’s book it!” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir! Boys, let’s move!”

  Three other soldiers followed suit along with them, but the driver watched them go before speeding off. He considered the possibility of taking refuge in the alleys and rundown structures, but his foot was already on the gas pedal.

  The remaining convoy sped forward through the smoke and flame. The Humvee swerved pas the decimated remains of the first while the HEMT-truck smashed right through it. The progress was short-lived.

  As the truck drove over the many books in the street in front of the library, suddenly explosions rumbled right underneath its wheels. They were small enough to ensure the vehicle itself wasn’t harmed, but its tires were blown to bits.

  Inside the cargo hold, the six prisoners were all tossed into each other as the two UNR soldiers maintained their balance by using straps on the ceiling. The small area was rocked like an earthquake before going completely still. For the first time since the convoy set out, the two soldiers pointed their eyes and guns at the door, ready for an incursion.

  What they failed to see lasted only a second. The woman right next to Sostenes Herrera lowered her head, and he used his teeth to fetch a pin from her long black hair. By the time one of the UNR soldiers looked back at them, she smiled at them as Herrera hid the pin under his tongue.

  ***

  Sergeant O’Shea had taken cover behind a bullet-riddled dumpster along with a few of his men. The downed truck was still only a few feet from them. He watched as the two Humvees that were behind it were forced to skid to a stop. The adrenaline pumped through him now, and he gained focus.

  “Griffon! Garuda! Circle back and start giving them hell right back! Archie, Donner, get your teams out of those Humvees until we can nail the asshole who’s got that rocket launcher!”

  The lone UNR Humvee sped ahead, but as it turned a corner the driver was greeted by a squad of gunmen. Jesse, Zaneta, and Eli were out in front of the group armed with their M-16s. Along with the men and women behind them, they all unloaded on the vehicle and the driver couldn’t even turn the wheel before bullets riddled h
is body. Within just a few seconds of firing, his blood had speckled the dashboard.

  They continued their advance down Severino Ceniceros Street, reaching the HEMT truck. The driver and the passenger had already exited and fired on the group, striking two of the soldiers. Eli ducked, almost tripping over himself in his panic, but he still managed to follow Zaneta and the others. The truck doors were great areas for defense, but as Zaneta and Jesse circled the truck, these spots became inadequate.

  Zaneta stayed low, firing at the driver’s ankles as she closed in. The man went down in a storm of curses. Time slowed for her as she got behind the open truck door, spotting the UNR soldier on the ground.

  “Hands up!” she yelled.

  With holes blown into his ankles, she was sure he’d give up. He didn’t. He raised his gun at her to take her down first, and Zaneta did what her mother had trained her to do. In a spur of adrenaline, she emptied the rest of her clip on him, and after that he moved no more. The sight of a soldier no older than herself, bullet wounds all over his bleeding chest, caused her to lose herself. Why didn’t you give up?

  Eli exhaled as he stood next to her, but it was far from over. More bullets came flying at them, and Eli had to yank his friend behind the truck door. UNR troops from the other two Humvees were adamant on defending the truck. This time there was a lot more than two of them.

  Most them had guns they had were a lot bigger and fired a lot faster than M-16s.

  “Pull back!” yelled Jesse.

  The UNR soldiers worked their way up, firing non-stop as they did. As one soldier rushed out even farther from the rest, he met death from a faraway bullet.

  A shot from over two hundred feet blew his skull open, his body crumpling to the asphalt. Julissa saw through her scope as the UNR troop fell. Goosebumps ran over the body from head to toe. She’d been in combat before and ended man lives, but this was the first time she’d fired on one of her own.

  Clint was right beside her atop the grocery store. They were both hidden under a dual layer of cover, first a wool blanket and on top of that a space blanket. Duvall fired next. Another soldier went down, splattering their blood against a Humvee. By now, they seemed to get it and pulled farther back to the Humvees in the rear. They are no longer my brothers and sisters, Julissa realized. She aimed and fired once again.

  Other Crimson Angels on rooftops were firing down at the targets on Severino Ceniceros Street, but once doing so they also exposed themselves. Griffon came in flying fast, but the pilot saw few images on his thermal scanner. Using his naked eye, he saw a plethora of soldiers scurrying from rooftop to rooftop, all positioning themselves around the convoy. No fucking way that’s all of them.

  “Be advised, Garuda, the hostiles have gear that makes ‘em hard to pick up on scanners.”

  “Roger that, Griffon. I’m going in.”

  Using their GAU-17 miniguns, both Ospreys began to tear apart the buildings around the convoy with a slew of bullets. Julissa and Clint were far enough away to see it all, including one of the aircraft heading toward their area.

  They huddled under their cover and froze, but the Crimson Angels on the building opposite switched from their sniper rifles to over-the-shoulder missile launchers. Before they could even attempt to lock on, the mini-gun tore the pair to shreds.

  The bullets decimated the mini-mart, the damage being so severe the building collapsed in a heap. Garuda was still circling the area around the convoy, hovering like an insect. The aircraft took out soldier after soldier as empty shells poured down from it.

  “Ruby, take it down!” Julissa commanded into her intercom.

  Griffon suddenly got a hit on its thermal scanners, far off from all the action. The pilot decided to investigate.

  It was Ruby, having removed her cover as she knelt on the knee. The woman was armed with an FGM-148 Javelin. Her scope showed an Osprey coming straight in her direction. She was atop the church the convoy had passed when they entered the city. The signal Griffon had been drawn to was the heat of the UNR flag behind her burning.

  The computer told her it was a clear shot. Ruby fired a missile at the aircraft, closing in incredibly fast.

  “Shit! Garuda, I—”

  The rocket hit the cockpit directly, engulfing it in the fire. Ruby lowered her weapon as the aircraft crashed into the house right across the street from her. The explosion decimated the home, and she was close enough to feel the heat of it. All the black smoke blotted her vision, and it was also a marker.

  Garuda saw the smoke from way across town and circled to strike back. Julissa saw as the aircraft finally left the air above Severino Ceniceros Street.

  “Gael, the other shitehawk is closing on Ruby’s post fast. You’re up!” she reported.

  Gael was on the balcony of a two-story house, a few blocks away from all the chaos. He, like Ruby, was armed with an FGM-148 Javelin. From his vantage point, the aircraft was getting farther and farther away. He locked on and fired.

  This time the Osprey was far enough way to get a warning of the incoming missile. Gael watched the aircraft ascend, only for the rocket to climb along with it. Flying high over the city, the Osprey twisted and turned to try and rid itself of its pursuer, but the projectile wouldn’t let up.

  It flew past the sun, becoming a silhouette just as the missile hit it right in the rear.

  Garuda careened back to the ground, plowing right into the library and bringing down the remains of the building on top of itself.

  ***

  O’Shea tossed smoke grenades out on to the street. The men already out there followed suit, but before the smoke even had time to spread they began to take fire from the rear position.

  Goddamn it, we’ve been flanked! Even the gunner on top of one of the Humvees wasn’t spared.

  “Sarge, what the fuck do we do?!” yelled Dean.

  “We hold!” O’Shea replied.

  “But, sir…” Dean bit his tongue, but watching his brothers and sisters get cut to pieces from the alleyway was just as painful. The only thing they could do was sit tight, but as every second went by the gunshots and screams never let up. Behind them was a brick wall. There was no way out.

  Next came silence. O’Shea held his breath. He and his men heard the approaching enemy soldiers. Not yelling or cheering, just footsteps. He looked at Dean, who nodded back. Here in the alleyway was their last stand, their only cover a large dumpster.

  They’d be gunned down pathetically easily, but as soon as even one enemy soldier poked their head as they would empty their magazines. Everyone got ready for those final moments. The smoke had finally spread, too little too late. It enveloped the alley entrance in a thick fog.

  “Put your fucking guns down!” yelled a voice from above.

  O’Shea and the others looked up to see a large group of soldiers on the roof of the building next to them. They all had their weapons pointed down at them, and now soldiers from the street had entered the alley as well. There was nowhere to go.

  “I said put ‘em down! Last warning!” Clint roared.

  O’Shea was the first of the five troops to lay down his gun, and the rest slowly followed suit.

  “Grab their shit!” yelled Julissa.

  Zaneta and a handful of Holy Guardians took everything of value from the UNR soldiers. Watches, maps, even cash, it all went into another soldier’s pocket.

  Julissa joined the soldiers down below, walking up to Zaneta before anything else. Seeing she was unscathed, the mother hugged her child tightly. Before the child had been trembling but feeling her mother’s embrace, she no longer shook.

  Julissa didn’t congratulate Zaneta and Eli. In fact, she only patted him on the back before returning to the business at hand.

  With the captured soldiers in tow, everyone approached the truck. Julissa was startled to see the door was already open. Even though the entire objective of the mission was inside, she didn’t step any closer. Smoke from the battle and grenades cast a shadow over the area, making
it impossible to see anything inside. For a second, she believed the prisoners had perhaps even run off on their own.

  “¿Quién eres tú?” a voice called out to them.

  “Los ángeles carmesí,” Gael answered back.

  “¿Los ángeles carmesí? De verdad?”

  “Sí,” Gael confirmed.

  A man appeared from the darkness of the truck. He wore ragged clothes, hardly military, although he did wear a UNR helmet. His hands were bloody, and it was clear he’d attempted to wipe them clean his pants. In his right hand was a Berretta M9.

  His eyes studied the lot before him, stopping only at Gael himself. He froze for a second before revealing a big smile.

  “So, Gael finally returns to humble little México,” he said as he leaped down to the street. As he approached, Julissa unconsciously got in front of Zaneta and Eli.

  “Show some faith would help ya?” Gael boasted.

  “You crazy fucker! I thought I’d see Venloran give me a personal apology before I saw you out here on the battlefield!”

  “How could I ever look your mother in the face knowing I let you rot in a cell?”

  “Ah, nonsense! I’ve never been to the States myself, and I’ve been dying to go! I was hoping to get some California sun before I visited the capital.”

  The other five prisoners now emerged from the truck as well. All the Holy Guardians greeted their old friends while the Crimson Angels hung back. All except Gael, who hugged them all.

  “Everybody, this is Sostenes Herrera!” he announced.

  “I’d like to thank all of you for busting me out. I didn’t believe there was a fighting force from the UNR, let alone one willing to come all this way,” Herrera said.

  “Pleasantries aside, we should get moving. We have roughly two hours to ditch before reinforcements arrive,” Julissa said.

  Sostenes examined her but then looked at something past her. He was ogling the captured UNR soldiers. He walked right past Julissa, only avoiding bumping into her because she got out of his way.

  He went to O’Shea first and foremost.

  “What’s with these guys?” he asked.