Overrun
Page 26
The halls behind it were dark and deserted. Two vaults with doors yawning wide open lined the walls on either side. Kirken reached in his pack for the next explosive device when the ominous sound of footsteps and two loud voices suddenly appeared ahead from around a corner.
Kirken raced for one of the open vaults and quickly ducked inside. The footsteps and the voices further approached.
The vault was dark and filled with crates strewn and stacked about the room. Some laid open like the widened mouth of a screaming face with their lids next to them along the floor.
Kirken slid through the stacks and lowered his body behind a large pile at the rear of the vault. The two men to whom the voices belonged reached the edge of the open door and continued to walk past.
Kirken raised his head and hands just enough to utilize the outside hallway light and pried off the back cover of the next explosive.
By now, the two voices had disappeared completely away.
After synchronizing the detonator's signal to the remote at his hip, he wedged the small device between the two crates and dropped a crate lid across the top to conceal the blinking lights. He then moved slowly to the edge of the vault door. With his back against its side and his body still hidden within its darkness, he gazed carefully through.
Seeing no one else out in the hallway, Kirken pulled his pack back up across his shoulders and stepped from the vault to the door that exited the floor. He gazed once more around and slipped back into the stairwell.
Behind him, one of the crates he had shifted fell with a loud crash before the door had completely shut. No one approached to investigate the noise.
Kirken pounded down the next set of stairs more than four of a time. The loud sound of his heart hammered mercilessly against the tiny bones of his ears. Adrenaline and nauseous fear surged through his veins. His stomach sent another foul-tasting reminder of its violent protest up through his throat.
He was four steps from the next level when two soldiers stepped into the stairway. Both their heads were lowered and lit cigarettes dangled from their fingertips. When the loud crashing sound of Kirken's footsteps finally drew their attention up, it was already too late.
Kirken's feet flew from the stairs. Flame thundered from his weapon. The nose of the first soldier as well as his front teeth disintegrated in a loud flash.
And then Kirken landed on top of him.
All three men toppled through the small space of the stairwell to the ground. Kirken's weapon continued to roar obliterating the decayed stone of the bank wall into a powdery rain around them.
The second soldier pulled desperately at his weapon pinned by its strap between his shoulder and the ground. Kirken thrust himself viciously across the dead soldier's bleeding body and grabbed ferociously for the other’s throat.
The second soldier pulled quickly away. Kirken's hands rammed squarely across his chest knocking him off balance and tumbling down the next flight of stairs. Kirken toppled end-over-end next to him down the concrete steps. They crashed in a tangled heap across a small square landing in front of the access door to the next floor.
The soldier' face struck the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. Kirken's full weight landed across his own injured shoulder. The sudden ferocity of the new pain brought a horrific shriek from his lips.
Their torsos and limbs writhed indistinguishably intertwined for a moment while they both tried to haul themselves back to their feet.
The soldier was the first to find his balance and fully stand. Through the corner of a ripped bloody mouth, he spit out pieces of damaged teeth and stood menacingly over Kirken whose arm stretched grotesquely to his side.
The soldier raised his foot high over Kirken's head and stomped it savagely across his damaged shoulder. Kirken howled again at the agony tearing through his limbs.
The soldier stepped back away and picked up his weapon. He turned it around backwards, raised it high over his head and struck viciously again at Kirken's tortured shoulder.
He then raised his arms and brought it down heavily again.
Kirken's screams fell silent at the second blow. Except for a slight twitch in his foot, his body didn’t move. Shortly thereafter, his foot was also still.
The soldier stood over him and looked at him carefully while wiping blood from his battered face with a ripped sleeve. He turned his assault rifle around in his hands and pulled it up against his right shoulder.
With it centered across Kirken's chest, he moved cautiously towards him.
Through slightly raised bloody lids, Kirken watched him come. His hand moved slowly beneath his body toward the weapon fallen next to him at his side.
The soldier leaned close to Kirken's face and lowered his head so that his ear was just above Kirken’s lips. Kirken willed his body and lungs not to breathe. The tip of the soldier's weapon rested directly across his chest.
Satisfied Kirken did not move, the soldier stood quickly and pulled a transmitter from his belt. He lowered his rifle to the floor and began to step away. His eyes moved from Kirken’s motionless form when another voice spoke back to him from the transmitter.
It was then Kirken struck.
His hand jerked for the weapon near his body, and his fingers slipped like lightning across its trigger. Before the soldier could react, he jabbed its muzzle hard into the center of his foot and fired two rounds into its bone and skin.
The first ripped four of the toes away. The second took away what was left of the soldier's bloody foot. The soldier dropped his rifle and fell to his knees screaming horribly. Kirken kicked his weapon away and drove his elbow hard into the man's bloody face.
"Son of a bitch!" Kirken screamed allowing the fear and hatred in his chest to momentarily overcome him. He enjoyed the sudden onset of rage and didn’t resist as it moved to consume him.
"Son of a fucking bitch! How does that fucking feel?!!"
The soldier fell back against the wall. His mouth was wide open in an anguished howl. Kirken pounced across his chest and slammed his fists one after the other into the soldier's bloody jaw. He brought them crashing again and again into the side of his face until his own hands were covered in blood. Until the soldier ceased to move.
When his cries finally no longer came, Kirken leaned over and rested his head against the man’s face.
At that same instant, the pain from his own injured shoulder rushed through his mind. Bright lights ripped at the backs of his eyes which were then followed by clouds of chilling darkness. He laid across the soldier’s body for a few moments gulping in the hallway's stale air and trying to bring his mind back from the screaming pain-filled void.
After a minute or two, the intense stabbing sting subsided enough to allow the world to focus again around him. Sirens wailed from every direction, and heavy footsteps pounded towards him up the stairwell.
Kirken rolled from across the soldier's body and fumbled to harness his pack across his shoulders. The movement brought more burning rushes of pain coursing through his limbs. The feeling was so intense it was almost a tangible sound in his ears.
Soldiers now rushed from the stairwells both above and below him towards where he crouched. There wasn’t a door or anywhere else in sight for him to make an escape.
Kirken reached into his pack and pulled out the last grenade. With one hand, he flipped its pin from its arming mechanism. With the other, he hauled the dead soldier to his feet.
Holding the body like a gladiator shield in front of him, Kirken charged at the soldiers rushing up the stairwell. Curses and screams bellowed from his lungs.
Semiautomatic weapons fire ripped across the dead man's chest and grazed by Kirken's side. Kirken stuffed the grenade into the soldier's gear and threw the bullet-shredded body across the soldiers coming up the stairs.
He then turned around and covering his head with his arms dove to the bloodstained ground. The falling body knocked several soldiers running up the stairs across their backs and then exploded with a sickening
muffled pop. White and black smoke along with a small amount of flame filled the air.
Kirken scrambled to stand and dashed across severed bodies and destroyed bone and skin to a door on the landing of the next floor. As the smoke cleared and the wounded screamed, he tore the door open wide against its hinges and fled from the stairwell into an office level hall.
He came to another door and ducked into a mostly barren room lined with a few shelves, some chairs and a large desk. Kirken ran for the desk and ripped his pack from his wounded shoulder. The loud voices chased after him from the stairwell and grew louder as they came further down the hall.
Kirken kicked the door shut behind him and pulled one of the few remaining explosives from his pack. He slapped it down hard across the edge of the desk and knocked its back cover off. With shaking hands, he armed the timer and dropped it in the top drawer.
The voices were just outside of the door. Kirken grabbed his pack from the desktop and ran for the small opening of the only window in the room.
The door behind him exploded inward, and the first of the soldiers crashed through.
Kirken lowered his head and sprinted toward the glass. Automatic weapons fire spewed around him mercilessly chewing up the room.
Kirken felt the weight of his body suddenly leave his feet and the rush of air soar around him. Flying through a shower of shattered glass, he dove through the small opening. Thousands of screaming bullets chased after him and streaked past his head.
The air rushed up and around him. His arms flailed out into the night and clutched desperately at anything that would stop his fall. The ground raced quickly toward his body until a piece of jagged metal caught his shoulder and jerked him violently to a stop.
Hanging with his shoulder hooked across a beam that jutted from the building's ancient fire escape, Kirken let out another scream. Above him, soldiers stuck their heads out from several open windows and pointed to where he hung.
Pushing away the unconsciousness trying to overtake his body, Kirken swung his weight back and forth towards the building’s side.
When he was finally able to hook his legs across a metal ladder along its wall, he pulled his shoulder from the mesh of broken metal. Finding his footing on the steps of the ladder, he lowered himself to the next level of the fire escape. Standing on its metal platform, Kirken looked up to see the soldiers extend their weapons through the window openings.
Still fighting the daze his injuries had caused throughout his body, Kirken pulled an assault weapon from across his back. Pointing it upward, he started to blindly fire. The soldiers poking their heads through the windows quickly pulled back inside.
Kirken ran a few steps along the metal platform to a small window that shattered with three quick jabs of his feet. He threw himself into the building through the opening as additional weapon rounds from soldiers along the ground ripped into the building behind him.
Kirken ripped the last explosive charge from his pack and hurriedly set its detonation codes. Holding his assault weapon firmly in his left hand and the final explosive tightly in his right, he ran for the door. He left the supply pack he used to haul the explosive charges empty along the floor.
He dodged through the throngs of soldiers darting through the halls and ran for an open elevator at the end of the corridor. He dove through its open doors and pressed his back against the wall.
He waited for the doors to slowly close in front of him. When they had sealed, he dropped to the ground and went to work.
The last charge was in place before the elevator reached the bottom floor.
Chapter 26
Mel stood in the center of the empty street and stared at the yellow country hills less than a mile away. She closed her eyes and felt them beckon her. But, the relief she thought she'd feel by escaping the town was not there. If anything, the thought of escaping Beuford alive made her fear worse.
Turning away from the hills back towards the city, she walked to the storefront on the side of the street.
It had been more than a day since she had seen any sign of J.G.U. troops.
She walked to the edge of the deserted decayed corner store. Like many of the others close around, all of its windows were still intact.
She crouched down and fumbled around in the dirt in the dark until her tiny fingers found a large rock. She looked cautiously around hoping no one heard the faint crack of broken glass as it echoed down the deserted street.
Mel reached through the broken door window and quietly let herself inside. Her stomach screamed with hunger. It had been more than a day since water had touched her lips.
Hurriedly, she walked behind the counter looking for food and anything else she could take with her when she ran for the hills outside the city.
Behind a counter further back in the store, she found a working sink and a refrigerator still partially filled with food. She dropped to her knees and used both hands to splash dirty brown water across her weather-burned face.
After a few moments, the water began to cool. She ducked her entire head under the faucet and took a deep drink. When she was through, she took the food from the refrigerator and stuffed it in a small pack she found nearby. She moved back to the edge of the counter and walked to the outside door.
She stepped carefully through the broken glass and stared out into the street. Not seeing anything moving except for the blowing sand, she stepped back out. The yellow hills outside the city, and the final escape they offered, stood straight ahead.
She pulled the small pack of supplies she had found across her shoulders and began to run.
She was only a short distance down the street when an uncovered jeep carrying four soldiers turned around a corner toward her. She stepped quickly toward the shadows of the storefront, but she had already been seen.
The jeep's headlights splashed across her back and accelerated towards her. Mel threw her pack on the ground and sprinted back in the direction of the city.
She ducked into a side alley with the jeep’s engine revving loudly behind her. The soldiers inside the jeep laughed and cheered loudly encouraging their driver to continue the chase.
Mel darted into the darkness around another corner and fell heavily across several garbage cans lying in her path. She rolled quickly free from the fresh wet muck that spilled from inside and stood to run again.
Like a pair of prying eyes, the jeep's headlights landed again across her back. Its engine continued to become louder.
With ragged breath, Mel kept running until suddenly a quiet voice from somewhere deep inside begged her to cease. Mel stopped in the middle of the street and dropped slowly to her knees. In an instant, the jeep was beside her and the men inside were jumping out.
Mel stayed on her knees and didn’t turn around. She breathed in deeply the unsettled dust from the jeep as it slowly permeated the openings of her eyes, nose and throat. Still not looking directly at them, she sensed the men, no longer shouting, make their approach.
They all exited the jeep and were far enough away where she still had a chance to run. She looked longingly towards the hills. It was an easy run. It would be impossible for them to chase her on foot and keep track of her into the night. There was still a chance to avoid what was inevitably to come. But something inside her body still would not let her go.
And then she felt the stinging kick of a boot jab sharply into the small of her back. Her body lurched forward and her face landed hard in the dirt. Fearfully, she looked up at a pair of feet that had now appeared before her eyes.
She rolled over passively as a pair of hands pulled her from behind. She felt the urge to scream welling deep inside her gut, but that was as far as it was able to go. Her lips remained silent, and her eyes opened wide.
On her back, she stared up at the men looming over her. One nudged at her with his boot. Another ran his eyes luridly across the length of her body. A last soldier looked uncomfortably away and raised a glowing match to a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Through teary eyes, she gazed up. Her look was met by a sharp slap to the face. Her head dropped back in the dirt. Partially due to the pain and somewhat due to fright, even with her eyes wide open it was now difficult to see.
The excited sound of men speaking in words she could not understand became louder and descended around her. With her sight returning slowly, she stared towards their noise.
In front of her, the man with the cigarette left to stand behind the jeep while another took out his sidearm and pointed it at her face. Mel lowered her eyes slowly towards the ground.
And it was then she saw the sight that finally made her scream.
When she did, they were quickly upon her. Some became even more excited by her kicks and shrieks. They pulled at her clothes and forced her arms back. One shoved a rag he wore around his neck into her mouth. They pulled her forcefully in front of the jeep's headlights and threw her roughly into the dirt at the center of its beams.
Mel spit out the rag and continued to scream. She stopped to take a breath and shrieked again.
The young boy was still there. Standing next to them. He followed at the heels of the soldiers carrying her and stood watching her at their sides.
Only when the three soldiers had finally wrestled her to the ground did he show himself plainly in the night.
The vision was intensely vivid. So much so she felt her soul turn ice cold. She choked on her shrieks and felt her heart leap up only to die at the center of her throat.
The boy moved closer and stared at her. He took another step until he was in front of her and looked directly into her eyes.
It was then she knew what had stopped her. What had prevented her from making her escape to the hills. Upon this realization, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate.