by J. P. Castle
Bastian rubbed the sweat from his forehead and brushed his fingers back through his hair. He felt his wrist-unit vibrating. He answered to a familiar, deep voice, holding one ear closed so he could hear through the noise.
“HANG IN THERE KID. THEY’VE SLOWED US DOWN WITH THIS SMOKE. I’M COMING. ETA FIVE MINUTES.”
“WE DON’T HAVE FIVE MINUTES! THEY’VE BLOCKED THE GATE AND SET ANOTHER FIRE WEST OF US. WE’RE TRAPPED ‘N CHOKING TO DEATH.” Bastian coughed, hardly able to hear from the deafening noise that surrounded him.
“WE’RE TAKING HEAVY FIRE. HE’S BROUGHT AN ARMY BIG ENOUGH TO KILL US ALL. I GOTTA GO!” said Bastian without a second to spare. Unable to disconnect the call, he continued to empty his weapon on the troops in front of him.
Atticus listened to the shouts and screams through Bastian’s wrist-unit. He heard Bastian’s shell casings spring non-stop from his gun.
“This is General Scott,” said the deep, commanding voice across the radio on his own secured channel. “They’re in big trouble down there. Wherever you’re at in this smoky charred mess—MOVE FASTER! Come in, weapons hot boys. Girard’s blocked the entrance and got my nephew pinned down under heavy fire. He’s suffocating them. Declan, Drew, level the entrance first. Let’s clear ‘em a path ‘n bring ‘em home.” Let’s find out how good you think you really are, Major General.
“Copy that, General,” said Atticus’ crew.
Hang in there, son. Atticus pushed the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter he flew himself to the top speed of 173 mph. The gauge held steady in the red. He carried eleven combat loaded troops onboard the big bird.
An M-60 hung out the side, fully loaded, and ready to fire. The chopper carried its max load with sixteen Hellfire missiles preloaded and sixteen more ready to auto-reload at the push of a button.
He’d never show up at a party empty-handed.
On the battlefield, Atticus’ twin sons always referred to their dad as General Scott. Declan, the oldest by four minutes, shot passed his dad in a two-man AH-64 Apache attack chopper loaded with its own Hellfire missiles and M-230 chain gun. Hang on cousin, I’m coming for ya. He maxed the helicopter's speed out at 227 mph, he’d never flown that fast before. His twin brother Drew hung tight on his tail in his own Apache, fully equipped with the same gear.
“You heard the ole man, clear a path first,” said Declan.
“Copy that,” said Drew, eyeing the smoke below.
“Ground units, what’s ETA to target,” said Drew.
“Ground to Apache One, ETA five minutes.”
“Copy that ground. Your path is currently blocked at the entrance. Repeat your path is blocked. Apache One and Two will clear your way. ETA to target one, 2 minutes. No time to waste here, boys, plow through the carnage,” said Declan. “They’re in big trouble down there and out of oxygen.”
“Copy that Apache One.”
“Drew, you ready?” said Declan.
“Copy that big brother. Copy that,” said Drew.
“RANI, WE GOTTA move back. I’m empty,” yelled Ledger, hearing the click of the gun. Rani kept firing like a seasoned pro, round after round. “RANI, NOW.” He jumped up and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her to her feet. Hand in hand, they hurtled through the thick clouds, coughing.
“I’m low on air, my chest is heavy,” said Rani. The smoke teared up her eyes, she failed to see a tiny log in front of her and tripped.
Ledger turned to help her get up when a soldier toppled him over, both dropped their weapons. The man’s army boot hit Rani in the face, causing her to nearly blackout. The soldier and Ledger scuffled wildly in the dirt. Ledger ripped the soldier’s mask off and decked him one solid time in the jaw.
Rani held her face, battling to get back on her feet. She’d never been struck like that before, her eye swelled wholly shut before she even regained a standing position. All she could make out—Ledger beneath the brawny soldier taking blows to the head.
Ledger’s arm was trapped under the man’s leg, leaving him unable to stop the brutal onslaught. The soldier’s fist hammered down on Ledger’s face multiple times, busting his lip open, smashing his nose, splitting his brow, and blacking his eye.
Once the soldier stunned Ledger enough, he started choking the life out of him. Rani scraped around in the dirt for her weapon, nowhere to be found. Her hand grazed over a baseball-sized rock. She grasped the heavy object, hoisted it over her head, and bashed the soldier in the skull.
The soldier released his grip on Ledger’s throat, side-stepped to regain his balance, and turned his attention toward Rani. Ledger lay still for a few seconds, gasping, unable to find clean air to replenish his lungs.
Rani brazenly lunged at the man, trying to claw his eyes out. She managed to hang onto his face briefly before he flipped her down onto her back. He kicked her once in the ribs, once in the face, and searched for his weapon.
Coming back around, Ledger caught sight of the soldier, retrieving his gun from the dirt. Knowing Rani was in grave trouble, he pulled his spare pistol from the back of his jeans. The smoke and the savage beating he’d endured made it difficult to aim.
The soldier pointed his gun directly at Rani, unaware of Ledger’s conscious state. Two shots rang out simultaneously. The soldier twirled around and staggered off a few steps into the smoke. Rani’s body wrenched upward once, then melted into complete stillness.
Ledger crawled over to Rani. “NO, NO, Rani, RANI, can you hear me?” he cried out, trying to see her through his one good eye. He shook her body.
She moaned.
He couldn’t find where she’d been hit. His eyes stung, burning from the blood, sweat, and smoke. Red started to soak through her pants, where he found the hole.
He ripped off his belt and made a tourniquet, tightening it a couple of inches above the wound. No response from Rani. He scooped her up and tore out for the creek bed. Hardly able to breathe now, his visual field turned black. I’m passing out. I gotta get in the ditc . . .
Bastian made out two silhouettes through the smoke. That’s Ledger with Rani in his arms. She’s hurt. Unconscious, Rani’s head bobbed. She’s been shot. Is . . . she—? He watched Ledger plummet to the ground hard, dropping Rani in front of him. Bastian—crushed inside—wanted to help.
“Ledger and Rani went down!” said Bastian.
“We’re pinned, Bastian. No way we can get to them right now,” said Caleb.
Bullets continued racing past their heads.
Ledger coughed, fighting for every breath. Again, he crawled to Rani. Bastian watched him lay his body on top of her to protect her from incoming gunfire. Gunfire so heavy, Ledger couldn’t move them three feet to the creek bed.
Mateo ran to help, knowing they lay stuck, full-on stranded. He figured one or both might be dead.
“Mateo, NO,” shouted Ginger.
Mateo charged hard down the line, leaping over anything in his path. Ginger laid down cover fire, all she had left. Joaquin and Lumen joined. The moment Mateo left the safety of the trench, he fell directly to his knees.
“Mateo!” cried Ginger, watching blood spill down the front of his shirt, leaking from the bullet hole in his chest. He landed in the dirt, two feet from Ledger.
Mazel sat by Timmy’s feet, holding her ears . . . trying to breathe. Timmy, down to his last clip, saw Mateo fall. He split toward Mateo, Ledger, and Rani.
“Timmy, NO, Timmy!” hollered Mazel.
Blasting down the ditch line at top speed, he tapped Amir to follow. “KEEP FIRING!” said Timmy to Joaquin.
“I’m almost empty! Hurry!” shouted Joaquin.
Timmy tossed Joaquin his gun.
Mazel’s heart fell. You’re gonna get shot, too, Timmy.
Amir followed Timmy without question.
“Amir, take my feet!” said Timmy army crawling to Ledger. He latched onto Ledger’s hands.
Amir pulled with all his might, powerless to budge the pair with his light weight. He tried again, “Aaaaaaaa,” he straine
d, “I’m not strong enough!”
Timmy pulled Ledger one excruciating foot at a time, scooting his body backward. Ledger reached his hand out for Rani; a bullet went straight through his arm. Timmy sat Ledger up in the ditch. He turned around to go back for Rani next, but Amir had already Army crawled his way out and took ahold of her limp hands.
“Keep your head down!” said Timmy, dragging Amir by the feet. He pulled with every muscle fiber his worn body had left, moving the pair inch by inch through the dry dirt. Timmy got them both down into the ditch.
Rani laid unconscious.
Ledger, wheezing in small breaths, opened his one good eye to descry Rani’s chest collapse. Crawling to her again, he noticed her face start to turn blue. Ledger had no air to give. He looked up to the sky, nothing but sparks and embers rained down on them. He closed Rani’s nose, opened her mouth, and breathed a shallow breath of air into her irritated lungs.
Nothing.
He performed chest compressions. Blood flowed from the hole in his arm with every push. He breathed for her again.
Nothing.
“She’s gone, man,” said Timmy, trying to pull him away.
Ledger shoved him backward with his uninjured arm. Timmy fell onto the rocks. Ledger continued to breathe for Rani. He’d die if she died. Five minutes in, Ledger’s vision faded.
I’m passing out—again. He’d given her his last breath. Nothing from Rani.
Amir crawled back out to Mateo, then latched onto his feet. Timmy pulled them into the bed of the creek. Mateo wasn’t breathing either.
“There’s nothing more we can do here,” said Timmy.
He and Amir beat it back down the creek bed to Youlie and Mazel.
Ledger toppled over on Rani. He put his hand into her hair—his world faded into darkness.
Timmy dove down beside Mazel.
“Are they okay?” she said.
“No,” said Timmy, “no, they’re not. And I’m outta bullets. This is it.” He put his arm around Mazel.
A soldier jumped into the ditch and charged Timmy.
“Timmy!” cried Mazel.
The soldier crashed Timmy into the ditch wall and punched him in the stomach. Amir ran toward Timmy with his gun. The soldier fired a shot down at Timmy, striking him in the leg during the assault. Timmy reached for a rock to hit the soldier, not realizing he’d been shot.
Thirsten’s dog, Martin, wormed from Thirsten’s grasp and ran north up the creek bed.
“MARTIN, COME BACK,” shouted Thirsten. He tried to follow his shaggy friend, but he didn’t have enough air left.
Martin latched onto the soldier’s leg and ripped his head back ‘n forth wildly. The soldier kicked Martin off to the side. Martin rolled once and latched right back onto the man’s leg. The soldier aimed his gun at Martin and fired.
The bullet jammed in the weapon. Timmy struck the man in the head with the rock, but not hard enough to slow him down. The soldier pulled out his knife.
Amir fired a nonlethal shot into the soldier, causing him to stumble onto Mazel and drop his knife. Mazel slid from beneath the man, inching herself backward to clear the danger. Amir made eye contact with the soldier, warning him not to reach for the weapon.
“Please don’t,” said Amir, “Please.”
The soldier blatantly ignored Amir’s request, stretching his arm out for the knife. With no choice, Amir gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger. He shot the man in the face and dropped his weapon into the creek bed.
I’ve killed someone. What have I done? Amir lowered himself into a seated position, unable to function.
Down a short distance from Timmy, Mr. McCrady, Ollie, and Thirsten were out of air.
“I can’t breathe, Mr. McC,” said Ollie.
Mr. McCrady kept his arm over Ollie. “I . . . can’t . . . either son,” he said, crumpling over—out cold.
Ollie’s eyes burned, no longer capable of catching his breath; he faded off, too.
Thirsten gazed upward at the scarlet red sky. “This can’t be how this ends, Lord,” he coughed. “Please send angels now, Father.” Thirsten closed his eyes.
Everyone in the ditch line had depleted their ammo. Bullets kept flying from General Given’s men.
Caleb searched Bastian’s face for any sign of hope, finding none. “Bastian, man, it’s been a good run, we did our best,” said Caleb. “I’m empty.”
It was too late, no matter how many they killed, droves more kept coming. Bastian nearly spoke when two silhouettes in civilian clothes came charging out of the smoke.
Dodi and Hank ducked behind the rocks where Bastian and Caleb were holed up with the kids and the girls. Dodi eyed General Given through the treetops, loitering above, and adjusting the gun turret on the chopper. He and Hank ripped their masks off.
“Put these on the kids, the filters aren’t fully clogged yet, but watch for that,” said Hank, handing them down to Troian.
General Given readied himself to fire on the ditch line. Which meant he’d either lost it mentally or located Bastian and decided to waste the others. He had to fly at an exceptionally low altitude to get a visual through the thick smoke, placing him within Dodi’s firing range.
Bastian watched Dodi draw up the weapon he’d taken from one of the Hummers. Dodi made an adjustment on the gun, aimed carefully, and fired a single shot. Fuel sprayed from the steel beast.
Red lights and warning signals went off in the cockpit. General Given had no choice but to set the bird down across the field, nearly losing control when it landed. Dodi handed Bastian the weapon.
“Caleb, take this pistol,” said Hank.
Hank and Dodi threw the last six grenades directly in front of them, all they had left. “We’ve done our best guys,” said Dodi. “We gave ‘em all we had. He’s brought half the army with him. They won’t stop coming at us.”
Bastian peeked down at Troian. “The baby’s not breathing well,” she said.
Bastian eyed Troian with emptiness on his face.
“Bring in the other .50 Cal, NOW!” ordered General Given over the radio. “Let’s finish this.”
The Hummer sped down the road toward the group.
“No,” said Dodi, identifying the weapon that would kill them all and surely finish the battle.
Bastian recognized the disheartened defeat written on Dodi’s face, knowing they’d all be dust in a few more seconds. He’d seen friends fall today . . . more than one. Bastian picked up the rocket launcher and bolted through the smoke toward the Hummer.
A bullet penetrated the flesh on the side of his stomach when he dropped to aim the weapon. A second bullet pierced his upper torso. He fell over backward onto the scorched earth. The .50 Caliber opened fire toward the group. Bullets bounced off the rocks that Dodi, Hank, Troian, Caleb, and Bryce were hiding behind.
“BASTIAN,” screamed Troian. “Is he dead?”
“I’m not sure, I can’t get to him,” said Dodi, peaking around the rock.
Lightning flashed from above.
A single drop of rain crept down Troian’s cheek, then another. Thunder crackled so hard the ground tremored. Rain poured down in buckets all around them, thinning the smoke, bringing in much-needed oxygen. The embers in the air lessened.
General Given exited the cockpit to join his men. “Units ten through fourteen, ADVANCE NOW. We’ve run ‘em dry, outgunned, and outnumbered. They’re ours. The target is down.”
Units ten through fourteen fired up their engines.
Dodi heard a familiar sound and scouted above; two Apaches zoomed past at top speed. Declan unleashed a Hellfire missile into the passenger side door of the Hummer with the .50 Caliber mounted on top. Dodi and Hank watched the Hummer flip into the air and explode.
“Air Calvary,” said Hank.
EVERYONE STILL CONSCIOUS in the creek bed watched the black birds blaze past them and on toward the entrance.
“They’re here,” said Timmy, clinging to consciousness while Joaquin placed a belt around h
is bleeding leg.
“Target in sight, prepare to engage,” said Declan.
“Copy,” said Drew, “Weapons hot.”
“Engage,” said Declan, hovering next to his brother as they released multiple missiles on General Given’s units that were still blocking the gate entrance.
Hummers burst into flames, bodies skittered away to the left and right on fire, caving to the ground in burning heaps as their flesh melted away. Declan and Drew didn’t let up, they leveled the entrance, as commanded by their dad, General Atticus Scott.
“Ground this is Apache One, your path is clear,” said Declan.
“Copy that Apache One, ETA under one minute.”
Those conscious witnessed the massive explosions at the gatehouse. Fire filled the air above the park entrance, turning to thick black smoke as the rubber on the tires melted. Declan and Drew peeled out in opposite directions at top speed, disappearing out of sight.
General Given stood in shock at the overwhelming defense coming to Bastian’s aid. He retrieved a rocket launcher from a nearby Hummer and fired. Drew pulled into a vertical climb, the missile jetted past with few feet to spare, scarcely missing the Apache.
Everyone turned to the north, hearing another inbound chopper. General Scott picked up his radio. “The real General has arrived,” he said, making his entrance from over the mountains. “Prepare to engage target east. Kill ‘em all. We’re not taking any prisoners today, boys.”
“Copy,” said Declan and Drew.
The rain cleared a small amount of smoke from the air. The fresh water cascading through Bastian’s hair and down his face brought him out of his stupor. He strained to raise his head and wipe dirt from his eyes. He eyed General Given standing beside the disabled Super Cobra, loading another missile into his cannon.
Bastian pulled himself upright and leaned on the rocket launcher. Searing pain pulsated through his arm and back as he brought himself to one knee. He lifted the rocket launcher to his shoulder, aiming it toward General Given’s chopper.
“If I’m gonna die today, I’m taking you with me,” said Bastian under his breath.