Overrun (2 page)

Only a few yards ahead, one of
the soldiers pitched towards them with his legs flailing through the air. His
hand clutched at a gaping hole that had opened itself in his left shoulder. His
body fell flat across the ground and became still. His weapon dropped next to
him in a pile of dust just beyond his reach.

Kirken forced himself not to
move hoping to stay hidden by the flying dust and avoid drawing additional fire
upon himself. Ahead, the rest of the soldiers leapt for cover on either side of
the street.

Wagner dove to the ground next
to Kirken and crawled through the sand screaming into his transmitter and
spitting grit from his teeth.

In an instant, the street was
empty except for Kirken and the wounded soldier lying in a heap at its center.
His body shook slightly from shock, and his arm stretched slowly towards his
assault rifle. Blood pooled near his shoulder, and bullets screamed from the
rooftops.

Kirken sprinted towards him with
his hand on his own weapon hanging at his side. The air exploded with a fresh
volley of shots that shredded the ground at his feet forcing him to take cover
on the left side of the street.

He made his way to the back of
an ancient telephone booth and threw himself back hard against its glass. Years
of caked dust and heat hid him for the moment and offered temporary cover from
the ambush.

He looked up to see small
figures dart across the rooftops just above where he stood. Soon faces became
visible through the swirls of smoke from discharged weaponry and flying dust.
They were faces of young boys holding weapons almost larger than themselves.

Flame and slugs threw dirt into
the air and forced Kirken to remain still. The faces disappeared overhead. Only
the bombardment of weapons fire marked their continued presence.

A few soldiers poked their faces
back into the street and returned fire into the rooftops. They pressed their
headsets close to their ears listening for Wagner’s instructions. The firing
overhead stopped momentarily while their attackers ducked back for cover. The
street was suddenly silent except for the weak groans of the wounded soldier
sprawled at its center.

"Wagner!" Kirken
screamed from where he hid behind the phone booth. "Get the transport to
the front! Get the word out! Shoot for cover only! Not to kill! They're just
kids for Christ's sake!"

"Are you fucking
crazy?" Wagner screamed back his voice drowned out by a new batch of
firing.

Kirken dropped to the ground as
the phone booth shattered into a mist of exploding glass. He covered his head
with shaking hands until the firing again suddenly stopped.

"Just do it!" Kirken
screamed again. "Tell them now!"

Kirken didn't wait for Wagner to
question him again. He bolted to his feet and dashed down the deserted
sidewalks in front of the storefronts. Behind him, the transport roared from
its idle and with a cloud of dust lumbered towards the end of the street.
Kirken ran closely next to it using its large side panels for cover until he
reached the wounded man.

The truck pulled away, and
Kirken dove face first into the sandy terrain. Flying dirt kicked up behind it
temporarily hid his position. It lingered in the air and settled slowly back to
the ground.

He could hear Wagner barking
orders through the soldier’s headset. His voice shrieked to be heard over the noise.

Kirken crawled closer to the
injured man across the scorched earth. The heat burned through his uniform and
across his chest. It pounded against the unprotected portions of his face
making it nearly impossible to breathe. He lowered his head and scurried closer
to the soldier lying helplessly on his back beneath the harsh rays of the sun.

The firing from the rooftop
stopped again allowing Kirken to look up to see the figures leaping from the
top of one building to the next. Their small thin bodies were chased by weapons
fire from the soldiers scrambling to board the truck.

"Cover fire! Cover
fire!" Kirken reached the soldier and screamed into the transmitter across
his face. He grabbed him by the shredded material covering his shoulders and
pulled him from the dirt.

The young soldier screamed.

A new flurry of weapons fire
thundered from the rooftops. Exploding slugs ripped a trail next to Kirken’s
side. Kirken hoisted the soldier’s limp body over his shoulder and turned to
run towards the transport.

More weapons bursts tore up the
dirt around him.

With the rest of the team
already onboard, the transport moved slowly towards the outside of town. Two
soldiers balanced on a brown metal ramp that dropped from its rear and dragged
along the ground. Ferocious blasts from their weapon barrels tore madly into
the sky.

Kirken sprinted for the ramp.
His lungs wheezed from the burden of his human load.

Hands stretched out to help him
while others fired cover over his shoulder. He reached the ramp, shifted his
weight and stumbled up. Two soldiers grabbed him and the man he held and hauled
them inside.

When they had taken the wounded
soldier from him, Kirken turned his head at the heavy firing still coming from
the street.

Wagner was pinned to the ground
by fire coming from the nearest roof across from him. He had wedged his large
frame behind a thin piece of shattered metal from the destroyed telephone booth
waiting for it to subside.

"Back it up! Back it
up!" Kirken screamed to the driver.

Bodies fell to the floor as the
vehicle suddenly reversed. Kirken stepped further back inside the transport to
get out of the way of the five soldiers that crouched at the opening and
blasted the rooftops with fresh weapons bursts.

Kirken kneeled on the floor to
catch his breath. From over their shoulders, he watched Wagner lift his sidearm
and release a fury of shots at more young faces appearing above.

The transport stopped before
they could reach him. Building wreckage ripped loose by the firefight blocked
the center of the street. Wagner was about a hundred feet further away. When
the transport stopped, he fired two more quick shots and turned to run.

The soldiers continued their
assault from the rear of the transport keeping their attackers pinned down on
the rooftop. Wagner bolted from his hiding place and sprinted towards the
truck.

He covered about half the
distance back to the transport when a body dropped from the air and landed in a
cloud of blood and dust at his feet. They were all close enough to see it was
the body of a small boy.

Wagner didn't stop.

Kirken felt his heart fall. A
fresh layer of sweat beaded across his face.

Wagner stepped over the boy and
ran for the transport. Weapons rounds ripped across the ground after him
tearing everything violently apart. Wagner never broke stride or turned to look
back. A volley of the heaviest firing yet kicked up more dirt and settled
across where the boy fell.

"Son of a bitch!"
Kirken screamed.

He lumbered down the ramp past
Wagner who scrambled up. Rock and sand flew around. Flying metal seared through
the air.

Kirken reached the boy in two
quick strides, scooped him in his arms and scrambled madly back towards the
transport. The truck shifted gears and moved forward again. A fury of bullets
sliced through the air and across the ground. The soldiers providing cover fire
ducked back inside.

Kirken was almost to the back of
the transport when its brown ramp suddenly started to pull up from where it
dragged along the ground.

He pumped his legs and gripped
the body he held tighter in his arms. He couldn't see anything through the
flying earth except for the scared faces of a few soldiers reaching to pull him
up.

With a last surge of strength,
Kirken tossed the boy over the ramp and then threw himself inside. His legs and
waist scraped across the ramp’s edge when his body sailed through. He landed
across three of the soldiers knocking all of them crashing to the truck floor.

Kirken untangled himself from
the pile of bodies and dragged himself over to the boy who laid eyes closed and
still next to the soldier he had rescued in the street. The soldier was
unconscious. Blood seeped from a series of wounds.

"Just what the hell do you
think you were doing!!?" Wagner shrieked.

Kirken picked up the boy and placed
him on a stretcher. His hands shaking and his breathing coming in violent
gasps, Kirken tried to tend to his wounds. Two soldiers with bandages and
medical kits came to his side and pulled him away.

His knees wobbly, Kirken stepped
back and watched them work. He leaned back against the transport’s metallic
wall and slid tiredly to the ground. He ripped his protective glasses from his
eyes and tried to stop the hammer of his heart.

He ignored Wagner’s glares as he
stood over him, and he tried not to notice the others scrutinizing him out of
the corners of their eyes.

Kirken just sat there and let
his recent dose of medication take him while the truck rolled from town. He
looked for peace in his own medicated thoughts far away from the world around.

"That was the most
irresponsible thing I've ever seen," Wagner said his voice low and his
eyes blazing at the unconscious boy.

Kirken didn't look up. He felt
his body rock as the transport bounced along the corroded ground. The
medication muffled his hearing, but he sensed the roar of its giant engine as
it raced back towards the dome.

Kirken didn't respond. He sat
there on the floor, closed his eyes and just tried to sleep.

Three U.S. jeeps drifted
silently to a stop near the front of the warehouse located somewhere on former
Soviet soil now controlled by Japan’s Great Union. According to recent
espionage reports, the warehouse was actually an illegal dome technological
research facility.

Six men pounced from the jeeps.
Each looked quickly around silently in the dark.

“Squad Leader,” Commander Edward
Knight whispered to the man next to him. “What do we got going on inside?”

"Ten men, most likely
scientists, working with atmospheric processors on the roof,” Squad Leader J.J.
Slavik answered softly struggling to keep the excitement hidden from his voice.
“Security station on Level Five. The whole building including the roof is monitored
from there.”

It was Slavik’s first
outer-facility mission. In fact, it was the first time he had ever been on the
outside at all. He had been training inside the domes since he was sixteen
years old for this night. He could barely contain his tone.

“We expect a six-man military
guard in the security room and two more on the roof with the scientists.
Another two at the main entrance.”

The surge of the protective
medication coursed through Slavik’s body and blasted at his senses. Along with
the new rush of adrenaline, it was all he could do to keep his hands steady and
the rest of his body under control. His eyes burned wide and bright while he
waited for his commander to speak.

"Good. That’s good,” Knight
said and turned to face his eager counterpart. “We shouldn't have to call in
another squad."

Knight’s expression did not
contain the same excitement and eagerness the soldier next to him tried so much
to contain. Only a dim light came from behind his eyes. His only desire was to
bring his men home one more time.

"Can your squad hit them
all before detection? Every last one?”

"Yes, sir,” Slavik answered
his tone suddenly sullen and cold. “We sure can.”

The excitability of the
medication was in one moment soundly subdued by the realization of why they
were there. As long as rivals to the U.S. in terms of dome construction
existed, the threat of war and a dome takeover was a very real and relevant
fear. It was why his division came to be in the first place and the reason he
had joined the military not so many years ago.

The Vulture division was covert
dome military dispatched about the globe in search of foreign threats to U.S.
dome construction and technology. Once an area was deemed a threat, it became a
Vulture target. Squads like Slavik’s then slipped in and out leaving everyone
behind mysteriously and anonymously dead.

"Alright Slavik,"
Knight said coming out of his own thoughts. He struggled to keep his voice from
reflecting the increased nervousness he felt each time he worked with fresh
dome troops.

Half the squad had been with him
through several missions on the outside. The other half, like the unit
commander he was breaking in, were seasoned and trained but new to the
environment out here. These were the ones that brought the gut-wrenching
nervousness verging on fear each time he took a new batch out. The potential
for something to go wrong was just so great.

They still risked a reaction to
the medication while their systems acclimated to the new physical strains
caused by first exposure to the unfiltered solar rays.

It affected performance and
judgment. It always did, and it always would. Decisions made in combat were
fraught with risk. The overall secrecy of their existence was always
threatened. But with the number of men dying on these missions each day, half a
squad of fresh troops was the only way to maintain a full combat-ready unit and
stay on top of the growing threat of foreign dome construction.

The zealous enthusiasm that came
with their youth put them at the greatest risk of all. All of them wanted to
save the world. Knight just wanted them to get through each day saving
themselves.

Knight grabbed Slavik by the
thick gear hanging from his chest and pulled him so close their noses almost
touched. He could feel the rapid beat of Slavik's heart even through the many
layers of equipment covering it.

"Son, do you understand
what happens if your team is detected?”

“I do,” Slavik said swallowing
hard. Knight released his grip. Slavik took a step back and saluted him
silently in the dark.

“Orders must be carried out. No
one gets left behind here. Not alive. It is your responsibility to make sure of
that.”

“Yes, sir,” Slavik said again.
“I understand.”

Knight tried to ascertain the
look in Slavik's eyes. They were wide with a hint of fear, but his composure
seemed to still remain.

“Son, our presence in this
region is considered an act of war," Knight said again. “No one will come
to get us if we run into trouble. Anonymity must be ensured at all costs.
Nothing can come back to us."

Slavik drew in his breath and
saluted Knight again. Knight saluted back and returned to the situation at
hand.

"Take your team to the
roof. I want it done fast and quick. We’ll take care of the security level. I
want your men in the incinerator room ten minutes after we go in. All bodies
are to be accounted for and brought down. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Slavik
said.

"And Slavik,” Knight said
before Slavik could turn away. “No one gets left back here alive. Their
tortures will be thorough and brutal. Prisoners are interrogated for as long as
possible. All eventually break. There can be no captives. It is your
responsibility to ensure that."

Slavik returned Knight’s rigid
stare.

“At all costs, Slavik.”

Slavik nodded slightly and left
to gather his men. Knight thought he could hear the hammer of Slavik’s heart
while he walked away through the dark.

* * *

Slavik's team left the jeeps at
a dead run. They approached the front of the building and became lost in the
black of the night. Two guards with assault rifles stood at the entrance.

Gloved hands reached from the
darkness and covered their mouths. Thin precise blades opened their throats
before they had chance to cry out. Their bodies were dragged inside and dumped
away from the entrance.

Slavik turned to see Commander
Knight lead the second team sprinting silently for the doorway just behind
them. Knight’s team would drag the bodies to the incinerator room while
Slavik’s men brought the rest down from the roof.

Knight's group entered the
building and joined Slavik's men waiting for them in the shadows.

Following silent finger signals
by the leaders of both squads, the two teams noiselessly climbed the stairs.
After a short ascent, Knight’s team exited the stairwell onto the security
level. Slavik’s men continued on in the dark.

* * *

Knight's men stepped cautiously
into the hallway of the security level and waited while their eyes adjusted to
the darkness. They raised their weapons and slowly walked towards a dim sliver
of light at the end of the corridor.

Knight reached the door to the
security room first. Six men were inside. The only way out was through the door
in front of them.

"Go," he whispered.

Matthew Baxter, one of the more seasoned
combat specialists on the squad, kicked in the door and dove to the ground.
Three flashes of light popped from his weapon. The same number of bodies
crashed to the ground.

Vulture Squad Member William J.
Arnes charged in close behind and fired at the remaining security team members.
Two more bodies dropped, and another fell wounded and screaming along the
floor.

Knight sprinted the length of
the room and dove to cover his mouth and silence his cries. Still lying on his
stomach, Baxter slid his weapon around and discharged a quick round into the
base of the screaming man’s ear. The room became dark and quiet again.

Knight relaxed his grip and
leapt to his feet. He wiped his bloody gloves across his pant leg and scanned
his weapon around. Five soldiers laid dead across the floor leaving one still
remaining somewhere within the room.

Knight walked silently back
towards the door. When he reached the room’s center, a hand stretched through
the darkness and pulled him to the floor.

Kneeling next to Baxter, he stared
towards where his black-gloved finger pointed towards the back of the room. One
of the security guards held Arnes from behind and jabbed an assault rifle into
the center of his throat.

"Hang tight there,
Arnes." Knight said standing and taking slow steady steps towards them.

The J.G.U. soldier pressed his
back against the wall and slid towards the open doorway dragging Arnes roughly
by his hair next to him.

Knight continued forward and
dropped his own weapon to the ground. He raised his hands and followed them out
the door.

Behind him in the darkness,
Baxter aimed his weapon over Knight’s shoulder. His finger rested rigidly
across the trigger waiting for a signal from Knight or for the J.G.U. to leave
himself open for an easy shot.

Panic began to creep across the
J.G.U. soldier’s face. He backed quickly away to the end of the hallway until
he reached a brick wall. Desperation and defiance wavered across his eyes when
he realized there was nowhere left to go. Thick sweat beaded across his face
and trickled down his brow.

"What are you going to do
now, you fuck son of a bitch?!" Arnes twisted in his arms and jabbed an
elbow deep into his stomach.

A quick flash came from the
soldier’s weapon. Before Arnes’ body dropped to the floor, Baxter sprayed the entire
area with a torrent of automatic fire. The J.G.U. fell down across Arnes’ body
in a smoking bloody heap.

"Goddamn it, Arnes,"
Knight cursed silently in the dark.

Knight and Baxter quickly
gathered up the fallen weapons and secured them to their backs. Each grabbed
one of the bodies and dragged them towards the stairs. No words were exchanged
while they went back again to retrieve the bodies of the security crew.
Alongside the other members of their squad, they hauled the dead down the
stairs towards the incinerator room.

Despite the first KIA of the
mission, their progress was still on schedule. Alarms remained silent and the
hallways continued to be still while they pulled their loads quietly through
the gloom.

* * *

Out on the rooftop, Slavik and
his squad inched into position. They had exited the building through windows on
the top floor and scaled the walls towards the top of the building. They
perched across the doorframe of the only entrance to the roof and watched the
circle of scientists working diligently below.

There was a guard on either side
of the doorway beneath them. Both stood tiredly at their posts and watched the
scientists with half-open eyes. Neither saw the three men who dropped next to
them and ended their lives with quick shots to the sides of their heads.

Commander Slavik stood at the
doorway for a brief second trying to balance himself on unsteady legs. He had
jumped too close to the guards before the shots came and was surprised by the
blood splatter and pieces of bone that covered his eyes and face.

This was the first time the
mission was real. He struggled to keep his mind from being overtaken by the
shock.

“C’mon man, let’s go,” one of
his squad said patting him on the back and brushing past him towards the
scientists.

By now some of the scientists
had looked up and seen them near the doorway. They began yelling and throwing
their arms wildly about. Some ran for the roof ledge while others dropped
submissively to the ground. A few grabbed for weapons and were quickly shot in
the center of their chests.

Additional quick bursts of
weapons fire silenced more of their cries before the bedlam that had begun on
the rooftop increased to an even more frenzied state.

Slavik pulled out his sidearm
and shot one in the back that had escaped past his men and tried to scale down
the building’s side. He let out a relieved breath when the scientist fell back
onto the rooftop rather than pitching forward and crashing down across the
street.

Slavik stepped back towards the
doorway and took a quick look around.

"We're still missing
some!" he yelled to his men. “We have to get them all. Don’t let them
escape!”

"We've got 'em," a
not-so-confident voice answered him before being drowned out by gunfire.

Two others scurried beneath some
of the equipment. Another pressed back into the shadows trying not to be seen.
A few scampered to the rooftop ledge searching desperately for a means of
escape.

"Damn," Slavik swore
to himself.

Things were getting out of hand.
Everything should have been over by now, and his men should have been already
off the roof. With some of the scientists still alive, the mission had now
become a hunt - something there was no time for if they were going to escape
the facility undetected and alive.

He pointed his men in different
directions along the roof while he walked its center searching for those that
remained. A quick shot came from his left. Another flew from his right. He
turned to see a signal from the soldier furthest down the roof’s edge that only
two scientists now remained.

Slavik slowly made his way to
the edge of the rooftop. He panned his weapon around searching the area through
its sights for signs of the missing men. Seeing nothing, he took a deep breath
and peered cautiously over the side of the building.

Below just out of his arm’s
reach, a panicked scientist clung desperately to a thin ledge and waved
frantically at a military vehicle passing below.

Slavik shot him quickly in the
back of the head and lunged to grab his body. He snagged the man’s shirt collar
with his fingertip before he fell. The dead scientist’s legs swung out and away
from the building. The sudden burden of his weight yanked Slavik halfway over
the ledge.