by Mark Harritt
“Is there a wind out here?” Everett asked.
Mike thought that was a strange question, “I don’t think so, why?”
“Why are those trees moving then?”
Mike looked up. The tops of the trees were swaying like there was a strong wind.
Mike started cursing, “They’re trying to push over the trees.” He called to Jennifer, “Jen, how tall are those trees?”
“I don’t know Mike, why?”
“Because the clearing is about a hundred feet across.”
Jennifer and Ken started cursing. Jen took over, realizing the danger. She started directing everybody back from the danger, “I want Spec and Sec to go down to the courtyard. Mechs, move to the back of the wall. I don’t want to find out the hard way how much damage a falling tree could do to a mech.”
Mike turned to follow the rest of the infantry down to the courtyard. Cursing, He switched to the team channel, “I can’t believe it.”
“What Mike?” Everett asked.
“I can’t believe we got played by that damn dragon. It wasn’t trying to eat us, it was measuring the clearing.”
Tom’s voice carried his disbelief, “There’s no way the dragon is that smart.”
Mike continued, “Maybe, maybe not.” He switched the subject, “Okay guys, I need input. If they push down the trees, what are the odds that the dragons would be able to get onto the wall? Rob, you’re the structural guy, what do you think?”
There was a pause, “No, there’s no way that those trees would hold their weight. Not leaning against the wall.”
Mike was relieved, “Well, that’s good news.”
“Still, I don’t think we want to have to fight 150 pit bull sized dragon spawn. They’re going to swarm up those trees,” Everett added.
“I can’t believe that I didn’t have the tree line cleared back,” Mike fumed.
“You can’t think of everything, Mike. It’s not like we were going to be shot at from the tree line,” Everett responded.
“Hey, how about a funnel of death?” Mickey asked.
“What do you mean?” Mike asked, looking over at Mickey. The heads up display painted Mickeys name on him. He wouldn’t have been hard to find, though, since he towered over everybody else.
Mickey pointed at the tunnel, “They’re coming anyway. Might as well open the door for them.”
Mike smiled. It was an elegant, though extreme solution, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. The infantry is going into the tunnel. We’re going to open the portcullis . . .”
“Are you kidding me?”
Mike couldn’t figure out who that was. Ken singled the voice out, “Joseph, shut up and listen.”
Mike continued, “We’ll have Spec forward, and Sec in the back. If they come down the tunnel, we can fill it with a wall of lead.”
“Claymores?” Everett asked.
“Yeah, if we can get them out there quick enough,” Mike replied.
Jennifer spoke, “You’re not going to have enough time, Mike, the first tree is about to come down.”
Mike’s hearing was enhanced by the helmet. He heard the tree groan as the last roots gave way. He ran to get up against the wall. The others saw him move and quickly emulated him. The sound of the tree crashing against the compound wall was deafening.
Jennifer’s voice called out, “I need a SITREP.”
Mike checked his team and got a green from everybody. He called this into Jennifer.
“Murph, you there?”
“Yeah, man, what’s up?”
“You think you can get the portcullis up?”
“No prob. Joseph.”
“What?”
“Get your lazy ass in gear and help me.”
The two set off up the steps to get the portcullis raised.
Mickey stepped over to the portcullis. He leaned down and grabbed ahold of the rebar.
“You need help?” Mike asked.
The only reply was a low, rumbling chuckle.
They heard a clunk from above as the lock was disengaged. Mickey grunted and the portcullis started up. “Damn Mickey, you going to wait until we help, or you gonna do it all by yourself? Murph asked.
“Just getting it started for you,” Mickey answered.
Mickey got it about waist high, then the portcullis started moving faster as Murph and Joseph grabbed it. They heard Murph kick the latch to secure the portcullis. The team headed into the tunnel.
Mickey and Rob were in the front.
“Not sure that’s a great idea, Mickey,” Mike said.
“What?”
“You being up front.”
“Why?”
“We can’t shoot around you.”
“I say we leave him up front. We can use him for cover,” Rob quipped.
Mickey grumped, “Come on Mike, let me stay in front.”
“No, can’t do it. Tom, you get up there.”
“Gee thanks, Mike.”
“No problem. Anytime.”
They stopped about fifteen feet from the opening. Another tree toppled over. Mike heard confusion over the radio as the Mech team dealt with tree trunks and branches.
“Tom, you think you could foment a little disharmony out there?” Mike asked.
Tom hefted his Sig 716 rifle and answered, “Well, it’s not the Desert Tactical, but at this distance, I think I can probably piss something off.”
“Mind if I help?” Rob asked.
Mike suddenly remembered Murph and Joseph, “Hey Ken, are Murph and Joseph back?”
“Yeah, they just entered the tunnel.”
“Tom, Rob, Stack ‘em up, knock ‘em down.”
The helmet was a problem with standard sights. Infrared lasers turned on, enabling Tom and Rob to target hostiles. The dragon targets were wall to wall red in front of the compound. Tom took a moment, then squeezed off a shot. One of the small, red shapes dropped and started cooling. Rob was next, same result. They started trading shots, back and forth, hammering the hostiles in front of them. As each one dropped the movement of the others became more frenetic, agitated.
“You’re riling them up out there, keep it up,” Mike told them.
“This isn’t going to work,” Mike heard Everett say, “You need to move back. I can’t see a damn thing.”
He felt Mickey and Everett shuffle around and change positions. Mike had another idea, “Tom, Rob, can you kneel?”
They both slid down to take a knee. Mike and Everett stepped up and started engaging targets as well. Mike felt Mickey lean forward, the muzzle of his rifle about six inches in front of Mike. It was a good thing the helmets had proactive sound suppression. All five of them started hammering targets.
The spawn broke from the forest, a wave of carnivorous death and destruction, howling as they came. Maybe it was the smell of blood or the death of their brothers that drove them, Mike didn’t know, didn’t care. A bellow sounded from the Ancient as it realized the spawn were charging. The trees were still shaking and dropping as the spawn charged. Some of them climbed the trees to go over the wall. Many of them headed towards the tunnel mouth where they saw the muzzle flashes from the rifles.
There were so many bodies in front of them they couldn’t miss.
“They’re coming!” was the only thing Mike was able to shout out to warn the security team behind him. Magazines ran dry. The sing song, “Out, Changing,” was mixed with the sound of bolts slapping forward to drive a new round into the chamber. Bodies dropped as the spawn charged across the clearing.
Then they hit the tunnel entrance. Ravening, snarling faces were all Mike saw as the spawn tried to get to their tormentors. Somehow, the smaller pit bull sized dragons, their tentacles whipping in a frenzy, were even more horrific to Mike. He kept pulling the trigger, knowing that if he stopped, he would die. Bullets smacked into flesh. Even as they fell, the spawn still tried to crawl forward to get to the team. Head shots shattered skulls and the bodies piled up at the opening of the tunnel.
The mechs’ rail guns sounded, a ripping noise as super-heated iron slapped flesh. Shattered corpses dropped from the top of the wall.
Jennifer’s voice sounded over the command channel, “Be ready, we can’t stop them. It’s like trying to dam a flood.”
Mike wasn’t able to divert his attention to check on the security team. Shots sounded behind him as they engaged the spawn coming in from the back.
The pile of bodies in the front grew higher, the spawn struggling across the mound of corpses to get in. They clawed, climbed and died as they entered the tunnel. The rain mixed with gore and blood, creating a slick puddle that spread underfoot. The smell of slaughter was horrific. Soon, the press of bodies slackened. Fewer spawn were climbing the pile of carcasses. The spawn saw what happened to their siblings and weren’t as eager to step into the path of their own destruction. There was easily thirty or forty dead animals choking the opening.
Mike stopped to nudge Mickey with his elbow, “Check on security.”
Mickey nodded, placed his weapon on safe, and turned to see what was happening behind him. They kept a watch toward the front, shooting the occasional spawn that tried the tunnel. Outside, they could hear more trees falling, interspersed with the sound of the buzz saw rail guns.
Mike heard Ken’s voice as he felt Mickey move up behind him, “Mike, everything’s okay here. I don’t think we got as much of the spawn as you did.”
Mike called up to Jennifer, “Jen, what’s going on up there?”
“We got some of them, but a lot moved past us,” she replied.
“Define a lot,” Mike said.
“I don’t know, thirty, forty, maybe more.”
That didn’t add up. “Ken, how many carcasses are over there?”
“Not many, ten to twenty maybe.”
“Where the hell did the rest of the animals go to?” Mike thought.
“Tech, do you know where the rest of them went to?”
Luis Garcia spoke up from the armory, “Mike, some of them were killed when they tried to get into the tunnels, but a lot of them headed to the smoker.”
“Is there anybody out at the smoker?” Mike asked.
“Matki’s here. He said he saw Mitchem and Ben out there earlier.”
“Can anybody locate Ben or Mitchem?”
“No, they checked the sleep tunnel, but nobody can find them.”
“Roger Luis. Ken, did you hear all that?
“Yeah Mike, I heard.”
“What do you think?”
“We can’t leave them out there.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“Everybody hear that?” Mike asked.
A chorus of voices replied in the affirmative.
“We can’t leave Ben out there, we have to go and get him.”
“What about Mitchem?” somebody asked.
Mike paused for dramatic effect, “Well, we’re going out there anyway, might as well pull his ass out of the fire as well.”
Chuckles, and a few out right laughs came over the channel.
“Ken, let’s move out of the tunnel, and then we’ll move in formation over to the smoker.”
“You got it, Mike.”
“You want my team to go out first?” Mike asked.
Murphy spoke, “Mike, we got this.”
“You sure, Murph?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, Mike. You spec ops types try to keep hoggin’ the spotlight. Time for us to get some of the glory.”
Ken was in charge of security, but Murph was its heart and soul. Ken was a great guy, but the security team would cowboy up and ride to hell for Murphy. Murph knew that, but he didn’t have an ego problem. Ken was lucky to have a non-commissioned officer like Murph. It worked out for Murph. He hated meetings, so he was happy that Ken was ‘in charge.’
Ken took over, “Okay, we have to secure the courtyard first. I need Joseph and Murph in the lead.”
“Jesus,” Joseph said.
“Okay, since Joseph doesn’t want to be first in the chute, Stein, you’re up.”
Stein replied, “Roger.”
“Wait, I didn’t mean . . .” Joseph started.
“I don’t have time for your crap, Joseph. Murph, Stein, Joseph, me, Bill, Craig, Scott, and John. Stack up in that order. Murph, you go straight out, Stein left, Joseph right, then we alternate as we go. Questions, suggestions?”
Mike spoke, “Ken, we’ll follow you out, alternating in your pattern. Don’t forget to watch top side for spawn that may be on the wall.”
“Roger Mike, I’ll take center, and watch the top of the wall.”
Ken did one more check of his team, “Alright, go, go, go!”
Mike and his team were still watching the front opening. He couldn’t watch what was going on, but he heard one shot, two, and then three. More shots rang out, and the pattern intensified as the security team dealt with the threat in the courtyard.
Mike felt Mickey move away, and then felt a smack on his shoulder as Mickey let him know that he was moving. Mike moved back, smacked Everett on the shoulder, and turned to head back to the courtyard. Mickey’s bulk blocked Mike’s vision beyond Mickey’s back. Suddenly Mickey was outside, turning left. Mike ran out through a curtain of water, turned right and walked into chaos.
Carcasses of spawn sprawled across the courtyard, blood and water slicking the cobblestones. Drapier was down, possibly due to the slick surface, though there were dead spawn around him. Joseph and Yee were standing over him, shooting at spawn coming down the steps. The spawn leaped toward the three Airmen. Drapier started cursing. There was yelling and more shots rang out among the howls and snarls of the dragon spawn.
“Bad Idea, Mike,” he thought. He was running and gunning, shooting to take down the spawn that were still coming at the Airmen. Something came out of the dark and slammed into him. His feet couldn’t maintain a purchase on the wet cobblestones and he went down, tumbling across the courtyard. He slammed into the legs of another person, and they went down also.
He rolled to get away from the other person, worried that being tangled up would foul his capability to protect himself and fight back. He separated, and two of the dragon spawn launched onto him. The only thing that saved him from being ripped apart was his body armor. One of the spawn went for his throat from the side, but the high collar kept it from getting a grip. Mike couldn’t bring his rifle to bear, so he pulled his pistol, rammed it against the ribs of the one trying to rip his throat out, and started pulling the trigger until it collapsed. The other one was trying to get a grip on his skull, hot saliva dripping between Mike’s collar and helmet. He started punching it with one hand, dazing it, and he was able to grip the tentacles along the side of its head. He grabbed it, pulled it in close, and jammed the muzzle of the gun into its maw and pulled the trigger several times, the back of its skull exploding.
He rolled to his knees, and saw Murph, the person that he had knocked down, with three spawn on top of him. Mike took careful aim, double tapped one, and then shifted his aim to another and pumped several slugs into it until it went down. Murph grabbed the last spawn in a hug, and started stabbing it with a knife until the beast collapsed.
Mike stood up, scrambled to Murph, and helped him up. Mike got him to his feet then Mike turned and scanned his area for hostiles. There were still a few, so he kept shooting until the slide on his pistol locked back.
“Empty, changing,” he yelled. Mike slammed another magazine into the magazine well. He re-holstered his pistol and regained control of his rifle. He looked around and only saw a handful of spawn left. Other grunts were handling those few, so he helped two other guys up.
“Guys, you’ve attracted more attention. The pack that went out to the smoke house is headed back your way,” Luis warned.
“Fall back to the tunnel!” Mike yelled. The two teams scrambled through the heavy rain to get to the tunnel. Only a few people were able to get in before the spawn caught up to them. Mike saw three silhouettes standing in front of th
e tunnel, hammering out shots against the tide of spawn. Men went past, trying to get to the tunnel. A guy fell in front of Mike. Mike grabbed his combat vest by the handle across the back, lifted him and helped him to his feet, then pushed him toward the tunnel. Mike turned to see a wave of spawn headed towards him. He saw movement from the corner of his eye. There were two guys behind him, so he stopped and started shooting, giving them cover so that they could get to the tunnel.
Five of the snarling spawn launched towards him. Mike’s focus narrowed to his own small portion of the world. He went into kill or be killed mode. He killed one and the others overwhelmed him. His feet flew out from under him on the wet cobbles. He didn’t think there was anybody down range of his rifle muzzle, so he kept pulling the trigger until the bolt carrier locked to the rear. He pulled his pistol and killed one of the spawn. Another one went down, killed by somebody else’s bullets. He emptied his magazine into another.
Spawn grabbed his arm, trying to crush the bone. Mike felt intense pain as the spawn started shaking its head. Other spawn were trying to bite his legs. He kicked one in the head. Mike couldn’t reload, so he holstered the pistol, and pulled his knife. He lifted his arm, and jabbed the knife through the spawn’s throat, stabbing over and over until the spawn died. He had to kick another one as he sheathed his knife and pulled his pistol again. The spawn’s head exploded from a shot made by someone at the tunnel.
Mike couldn’t make it to the tunnel, so he scrambled to the wall. He pulled another magazine and seated it, then hit the slide release and started shooting. Two more went down.
The tide dwindled. As more of the spawn died, the team started walking back out of the tunnel, shooting and killing. The slide on Mike’s pistol locked to the rear, he hit the magazine release, grabbed the magazine and dropped it in his dump pouch. He felt for a replacement, and didn’t find one. He hit the slide release, re-holstered his pistol, and grabbed his rifle. He started shooting, and felt the bolt lock to the rear. He dropped the magazine, and reached for another one. He only had one full magazine left, and he slammed it into the magazine well.
He looked for another hostile. There weren’t any. His world expanded, stretching from his narrow focus to the the broader world around him. He took in a deep breath, and let it back out.