Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels (39 page)

At the forefront of the battle, the two columns of Chaktaw infantry engaging that final ring of defenses found themselves isolated and without support, a change in disposition noticed by the human defenders. The momentum of battle swung.

"Secondary charges! Detonate!"

Smoke from explosions, rifle fire, and grenades drifted across the defensive lines. From the bunker, Trevor and the others saw enemy corpses form in piles

"I will hand you over to ravaging men, artisans of destruction.  You shall be fuel for the fire; your blood shall flow throughout the land."

Johnny’s quotation was the only spoken word in the command bunker for several long minutes; long minutes of watching their soldiers cut down what remained of the enemy's charge, of watching their artillery pulverize the retreating attackers.

After another half-an-hour of carnage, Gronard halted the bombardment leaving a battlefield covered with enemy bodies.

Through binoculars, Trevor saw the remnants of the Chaktaw army—five-hundred fighters and support personnel at best—gather beyond the range of Thebes' guns. He saw a defeated enemy, walking with their poncho'd heads slumped and constantly looking over their shoulders as if waiting for another nasty surprise. He saw them hurriedly gather what supplies they could carry and turn to the north, from whence they came.

In the meantime, the human defenders stood in their battlements and cheered, rifles thrust into the air, waving fists taunted their foe.

"Amazing," General Gronard said and then looked at Trevor. "You did it."

"No, General,
you
did it. I only convinced you to try."

Gronard drifted into something like a trance.

"You look…you look so much like…so much like…"

"I’m not," Trevor cut him off.

An aide interrupted, "The Committee is on the phone. They demand an immediate explanation as to why there was a change in doctrine."

Gronard said, "Whatever heat I take for not following the rule book was worth it. They can’t argue with results."

Trevor realized that everyone in the bunker thought the battle over. He protested, "Wait a second. We’re not done here."

"We’re done," Snowe said emphatically. "Let’s not push things too hard."

Trevor stepped toward him and said, "Every time they attack you beat them off. They go away, they come back.
Every time."

"Not like this," Nina cut in. "You really, I mean, we really beat them up good. I’ve never seen them take that many casualties. Damn, we really bloodied their nose."

"Bloodied their nose? We have a chance to drive a stake through their heart!"

Gronard spoke into the phone, "Yes, I understand protocol. I saw an opportunity…yes, the military is subservient to The Committee…yes, we’ll be there in a few moments."

The General hung up the phone, sighed, and rejoined the group.

He spoke to Trevor, "I'm not sure who you really are but I’d rather have you on the other end of the phone than those…never mind. They want me and Director Snowe right now."

Snowe protested, "I have to take my men back to base and file after-action reports."

"Oh no," Gronard corrected. "The Committee wants to see us now."

Snowe scowled, showing the most emotion Trevor had seen from him since arriving in this alternate universe. The Committee had a hold on these people for some reason or another.

"Major Forest," the Director commanded without looking at her. "Take the Third Legion units back to barracks. I’ll meet up with you after I get my ass chewed out."

Snowe then took a step away. Trevor grabbed his arm.

"You know we have an opportunity right now, today. Why are you letting it slide by?"

Snowe put it bluntly, "Because The Committee is in charge, not you."

Snowe and Gronard left the bunker.

Trevor walked to the observation window. In the distance, he saw the Chaktaw moving away, a defeated army but nevertheless still an army.

---

Trevor and Nina led a mob of junior officers from the First and Third Legions toward a security station next to a heavy metal door far away from any barracks.

The supply officer there gaped at the grim-faced gang descending upon his post. If he gave any thought to stopping them, it did not show. Besides, with a Major at the head of the group they must have obtained permission from The Committee to access the arsenal. Right?

Nina confiscated his key and brushed him aside, leading the crew into the armory.

The officers—volunteers—gathered rifles, fragmentation grenades, and light artillery shells in crates and on carts. At the same time, they stocked up for themselves. The room filled with the sound of magazines clicking into guns, weapon rigs strapping on, knives and bayonets slipping into sheaths and snapping onto barrels.

Trevor grabbed a rifle from a long rack of guns and then accepted a handful of magazines from one of the men he had recruited.

Soldiers from the Third Legion--the ones who trained with Trevor for two weeks and heard the stories about the defeated Geryon Battleship--eagerly volunteered.

Several squads of the First Legion had been nearly as easy to convince. They were battle weary, having spent months successfully defending the northern perimeter, only to watch the Chaktaw withdraw each time with little price paid. After tasting victory that morning, they starved for more.

Trevor estimated five hundred enemy troops plus dozens more combat-ineffective injured withdrawing to the north. Through these officers, Trevor ‘recruited’ nearly four hundred from the two Legions, and had done it in less than an hour.

It did not concern him that they would be outnumbered; Trevor knew the attackers had been badly demoralized.

Furthermore, while Nina explained that the AATC fleet was too well guarded to be ‘borrowed,’ she promised something else; something collecting dust because The Committee refused to expend resources; because The Committee felt content to sit behind defenses fighting off attacks without ever striking back.

Reverend Johnny pulled a large, heavy machine gun from the wall. While he held little enthusiasm for Trevor's plan, the big gun brought a smile to his face.

Trevor glanced around the armory. He sensed a combination of excitement and focus from the soldiers. He had done it yet again; he had found the fighter in his fellow man and brought it to the surface. In this case, he did it despite each of these officers knowing they could face charges of insubordination.

He saw Nina checking her dual pistols and working the bolt on an assault rifle. She felt his eyes on her body. The Major met his gaze and grinned. She liked his eyes on her. She enjoyed him watching her as if she were the only person in the universe.

The power in the room mixed with the electricity crackling between Trevor and Nina. A raw energy. A dark energy.

Power…

…On the move again but this time the mob numbered hundreds, following Major Forest to a large set of metal shutters at the end of a lonely corridor.

Reverend Johnny stepped to the forefront, grabbed the handle, and grunted as he rolled the heavy portal open letting free a rush of stale air from a pitch black chamber.

While the others waited, Nina leaned inside. After the sound of heavy switches activating, lights flickered across a massive garage.

To Trevor, the place felt more like a tomb with dozens of relics covered in blue tarps and those tarps covered in a thick layer of dust.

Stone, Johnny, and the rest watched as Major Forest sauntered toward the nearest relic, grabbed its tarp, and—like a model introducing a new car at an auto show—ripped off the cover revealing a metal-framed buggy with gun mounts and seating for four.

The mass flooded the garage, eagerly freeing the vehicles from their shrouds. Underneath they found more buggies well as three and four-axle assault vehicles and transport trucks.

Soldiers loaded missiles into launchers, fed chain ammunition into machine guns, and stowed artillery shells in ammunition bins. Then they piled in and hung on wherever they could. The roar of engines and the sharp, greasy smell of fuel fumes filled the motor pool.

Nina climbed into the driver’s seat of a buggy with Trevor at her side and Johnny behind. In front of them, a horizontal metal bulkhead rolled up. The brilliant glow of the afternoon sun burst in like a fire bomb.

Nina pushed the accelerator. The lead buggy rolled out and into that sun followed by a swarming, rumbling mass of large and small vehicles, all captured on a security camera…

…feeding to a large monitor in the Operations Center.

The sight astounded a technician. He gasped and then drew the attention of Director Snowe, General Gronard, and the three men of The Committee who were in the midst of a spirited conversation about rules, regulations, and protocols.

"Um…Sirs…"

In unison, The Committee spied the incredible sight of their army’s vehicles speeding out from the garage like a stampede of angry beasts.

"Unbelievable!"

"Intolerable!"

"Insubordination!"

But they could only watch as…

…the lead buggy directed the pack of predators along the river bed to the east of the Chaktaw’s path. The rubber tires of the vehicles kicked up a plume of dust.

Trevor sat in the passenger seat next to the Major, constantly checking his watch to ensure they kept to schedule.

Bobbing and bouncing on the rough path, they sped north alongside the dried river bed, racing to get ahead of the Chaktaw's retreat…

…which resembled a mass of shambling, defeated zombies moving through the quarry.

A few remaining draft lizards wobbled along pulling heavy, catapult-like artillery pieces as well as medical wagons full of wounded. A couple of three-wheeled motor bikes cruised amidst the rabble of shuffling foot shoulders.

The Chaktaw fighters—still shocked at their defeat in front of Thebes--moved unaware they were being watched…

…by Trevor Stone through a pair of binoculars.

What Nina called a quarry seemed more a dirt path surrounded by banks of dusty soil and rocks, most likely the byproduct of the long-abandoned mining operation she had described.

None of that mattered to Trevor. What mattered was that the ‘quarry’ made for the perfect ambush. So perfect, in fact, he was surprised the Chaktaw had not scouted it first or at least moved their flank guards to the high ground.

Of course, the humans of Thebes had never pursued the attackers before. Perhaps The Committee's consistently weak and predictable response—or lack thereof—had lulled the Chaktaw into carelessness.  

He observed the enemy column enter the long pass between the banks and held his hand aloft. He waited…waited…then waved the signal.

Short-range artillery shook the Chaktaw from their daze in a series of blasts claiming several easy victims. After that first volley, the collective holler of hundreds of human troops filled the quarry as they charged over the banks spitting rifle fire and tossing grenades.

            Reverend Johnny swept the shocked column with his heavy weapon and while the design was foreign the results were quite familiar: enemy bodies torn to shreds, brown-shaded camouflage ponchos turned blood-red.

Nina emptied an entire clip from her bullpup carbine as she raced—nearly stumbled—down the slope. Instead of reloading, she discarded the rifle and pulled both pistols from their holsters. She fired madly, spent shell casings spewed from the ejector ports.          

Some Chaktaw dropped to the ground and fired, others formed hasty lines of defense. Their guns answered and many humans fell in the barrage.

The second phase of the trap commenced with armored assault cars and gun-wielding buggies entering the quarry from the north and south, sealing their prey in a box.

            Large chain guns swept a swath of death through the enemy ranks. Short range missiles pulverized pack animals and turned motor tricycles into smoldering ruins.

            The Chaktaw managed to launch a few of their own anti-armor projectiles and knocked out several human vehicles…but not enough. Not
nearly
enough.

            Trevor urged the wave of enraged humanity forward. Three of the enemy stood in his way, firing in his direction. Either through divinity or fortune, their shots went wide. Trevor’s fire did not. He emptied all his bullets into two poncho-wearing enemies. The third tried to reload. Trevor did not give him the chance; he drove his bayonet into the belly of his foe while screaming an angry roar; a beastly roar. The thrust of his weapon hoisted the humanoid off of his feet and threw him to the ground where the carcass rolled.

More chain guns; more of Nina’s dual pistols; more of First and Second Legion’s infantry firing rifles and throwing grenades.

            Then it stopped.

            Piles of bodies—some human, most not—filled the quarry…

… Pitiful moans and tearful medic calls replaced the sounds of battle. Dead and dying bodies formed piles across the floor of the quarry.