A World Darkly (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 3)

by John Triptych

  Steve frowned. A thunder run meant that the lead tanks would go for a full speed dash into the center of the city before heading back towards friendly territory, in an attempt to provoke a reaction from any potential resistance. It was a bold gamble that could give them control of the city within just a few hours against a disorganized, poorly led enemy, but it could easily backfire into a military disaster if the adversary was prepared for it. “You sure about this, General?” he asked over the radio.

  “We’re good to go,” Teller said tersely. “If we run into any resistance, Colonel Jones will proceed with the rest of the brigade using Highline Bridge, and come in from the south and also using the railway bridge beside the Six-Seventy, over.”

  Steve sighed. When General Teller made up his mind, there was no stopping him. Since he was just acting as an observer, there was really nothing he could do anyway. “Roger that.”

  Within minutes, a platoon of M1A2 Abrams battle tanks began to rumble across the Interstate-670, white crosses painted on their sides. The four tanks were going along a single line as each of their turrets were pointed in different directions. A second platoon of Abrams followed soon after. Steve heard on the radio that two more platoons of tanks started their advance over the Lewis and Clark Viaduct Bridge just below the northern edge of the city. He bit his lip in anticipation as two SOL Apache gunships flew overhead.

  Lieutenant Deon Brown rubbed at the thick top of his close-cropped hair before putting his ballistic helmet back on. He was in charge of the forward observation unit hidden in an abandoned warehouse in the Garment District. Brown had been called up in the Missouri National Guard as soon as the Glooming began and he had been in active duty ever since. He had been a star linebacker in college before he tore up his ankle, so it spelled the end of his dream of joining the National Football League. Soon after he graduated he became a salesman, using his savvy communications skills to sell medical equipment while spending most of his free time helping in charity programs for the local black community. Brown also liked to play soldier and he was content to serve on weekends as part of the state National Guard. When the old gods started reappearing all over the earth, Brown kept to his Christian faith and refused to convert to the myriad pagan religions that were now sprouting up all over the place. Besides, he had more important things to worry about as he started rising up the ranks. Brown had been totally mystified that a church in Kansas had seemingly taken over the entire state almost overnight, it was as if the fanatics of that church had received some sort of diabolical aid or something. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe that his fellow Christians could be as bloodthirsty as to nuke their own countrymen in Colorado, just in order to gain independence. Surely there was a better way to go about doing that, he thought.

  “Sir,” One of his radio operators said. “Remote cameras are detecting movement across the Six-Seventy Freeway and the Lewis and Clark Bridge. Estimate enemy strength is one … no, two companies of tanks, sir.”

  The man standing next to Brown looked like a civilian since he wasn’t wearing military fatigues. He was something else entirely. The man had white hair and a pale moustache. He also was missing the lower part of his right leg so he walked using a cane. Even though he wore thick glasses, he was respected by Brown and the other soldiers as well. The man’s name was Gerald Sykes and he was a former four-star general of the US Army. Sykes was very soft-spoken, but his words carried an air of experience and authority. “It’s a thunder run. Just like what we did in Iraq. Let their advance units go all the way in until they pass the Financial District, then initiate Operation Blowback.”

  “Yes sir,” Brown said as he started relaying orders to his communications team.

  General Teller rode in a Stryker, just behind the second platoon’s fourth tank, as they made their way into Kansas City. Unlike the tracked M1A2 Abrams tanks, the Strykers were wheeled armored vehicles capable of greater speeds with less noise, but it came at the cost of having less armor to protect the crews inside. Teller’s Stryker was the M1130 Commander variant. Instead of a tank gun, it had two M2 .50 caliber machineguns mounted on remote turrets and a vast array of communications systems. Aside from the driver and the two gunners, General Teller also had three communications operators to keep him continuously updated.

  One of his radio operators placed his hands over his headset as more information started pouring into the vehicle. “General, Captain Alexander reports that both companies have made it into the city limits. Second Company is now north of West Bottoms and heading towards the Garment District. Our company is now nearing the outskirts of Mulkey Square Park, sir.”

  General Teller adjusted the straps on his seatbelt as he took off his helmet and placed it in the empty seat beside him. “Okay, looks like there isn’t any resistance. Contact Colonel Jones and tell him to get the rest of the brigade to—”

  At that moment, they all heard several explosions in the distance.

  “What in the hell was that?” General Teller said rhetorically as he grabbed his helmet lying on the seat beside him and hurriedly began to put it back on.

  As the lead Apache gunship began a lazy turn back towards the west, it passed above the Air Line Junction at the northeastern edge of the city, as a warning alarm began sounding in the cockpit. The Apache pilot cursed as he realized that the warbling tone meant that the helicopter was being tracked using infrared lock on by an unseen enemy. Just as the Apache began to dive for cover, several man portable Stinger anti-air missiles were launched towards it. The Apache immediately began to jink and dive while activating its electronic countermeasures. While a few of the Stinger missiles veered off as they lost their lock on it, two more missiles stayed the course and continued to streak closer to the evading gunship. At the last moment, the Apache immediately deployed several dozen flares from its rear as it pulled yet another high-g turn, hoping it would evade the final two missiles. Another Stinger missile was confused by the flares and veered away, but the final missile’s built in dual-detector seeker was able to distinguish between the brightly burning flares and the airframe of the Apache. Within less than a second, the last missile impacted near the rear rotor of the Apache and exploded. The helicopter soon lost control and crashed just near the northern banks of the Missouri River, less than a mile from the Charles B Wheeler Downtown Airport.

  The second Apache gunship wasn’t so lucky as both its pilot and gunner were completely blindsided by half a dozen Stinger missiles that came in from underneath it. Just days before, there was a glitch in the software for the electronic countermeasures on the helicopter, and it had yet to be serviced. As a consequence, the alarm failed to sound when the Stingers were locking onto it. The surface to air missiles had arrived almost at the same time and the second gunship exploded into millions of pieces as it flew over the sky above the city.

  Just as the lead M1 tank of the first armored company rumbled down Interstate 670 and crossed underneath the deserted Grand Boulevard overpass, two FGM-148 Javelin anti-tank missiles flew just above it and detonated. Since the shaped charges exploded over the tank’s thin top armor, the turret of M1 Abrams instantly separated from the rest of the vehicle as the body of the tank exploded in a huge column of fire. Almost immediately, the three other tanks that were right behind it suddenly stopped. As the rest of the platoon’s tanks tried to turn around, several more Javelin missiles came in from above and detonated on the top of their respective turrets. In less than a minute, the entire platoon of SOL tanks was burning on the deserted freeway.

  The second platoon following instantly saw what had happened. The four tanks pulled to an immediate stop and began to reverse. Their turrets began to turn and they started to fire indiscriminately in the general direction the attack had come from. Several dozen smoke canisters began popping out at the sides of their turrets as they desperately sought a means to cover their retreat. But it was too late, more than half a dozen Javelin missiles were already on their way.

  While he k
ept his eyes on the freeway, the driver of the command Stryker apparently didn’t notice what had happened and barreled right into one of the reversing Abrams tanks. Both vehicles stopped momentarily from the force of the collision as the front part of the Stryker was now tilted upward thirty degrees, and its two front wheels were now on top of the rear of one of the tanks. Just as two more Abrams tanks reversed past them, the Javelin missiles flew in and detonated the moment they impacted the tops of their vehicles.

  General Teller somehow got lucky. The force of the rear end collision with the tank had pushed the Stryker’s front up so the Javelin missile ended up hitting the front part of the vehicle instead of its top. Nevertheless, the Stryker’s frontal armor wasn’t quite as heavy as a tank’s and the entire front section was instantly destroyed. What saved the SOL general were the large amounts of communication equipment located just at the front of the passenger compartment. The radios and workstations were completely destroyed. Two radio operators, along with the front cabin crew, were instantly killed.

  Smoke had filled the rear compartment of the stricken command Stryker. It had the most awful smell, the stench was a combination of burning rubber, alloy, plastics and flesh. General Teller could feel his hand burning as he choked on the noxious fumes, his eyes were flash blinded and irritated by the opaque gas swirling all around him. Within a few seconds, the rear door suddenly opened and he could feel hands grabbing him, unfastening his seatbelt, then pulling him out into the welcoming sunlight of the outside.

  The M2 Bradley fighting vehicle had stopped just behind the command Stryker. The enemy had apparently not been targeting it since it was beneath one of the freeway underpasses when the attack started. Its crew instantly reacted by getting in a few dozen feet behind the Stryker just as the missiles came in. Right after the Stryker was hit, four SOL soldiers came out of its rear compartment and tried to get the wrecked vehicle’s rear door open, hoping to find the general. It was just the right kind of luck that saved General Teller’s life. He was pulled out of the burning Stryker and placed inside the rear compartment of the Bradley before the crew reversed back underneath the overpass once more.

  To the north, the second armored company of the SOL advance force also ran into a heap of trouble. Only this time, it was the second platoon following behind the lead group of tanks hit first. Within seconds, all four M1 Abrams tanks of the second platoon were burning on the Interstate 35 when they were hit by another half dozen Javelin missiles. The lead tank platoon reacted differently. Instead of reversing, the M1 tanks in the first company accelerated to full speed as each one of them drove off in a different direction. The lead tank made a sharp turn to the right and drove up the ramp that led up to the Heart of America Bridge. The second tank turned left and smashed through the concrete dividers in the middle of the freeway, before running into a small parkland situated between the turnabouts. As soon as the second tank made it underneath a copse of thick oak trees, the tank instantly stopped as its crew began to bail out. The third tank just continued to accelerate in a straight line, its driver was somehow hoping that the speed would parhaps shield them from an attack and give it enough time to get to the eastern edge of the city limits. The fourth Abrams tank made a rapid turn to its right, it rumbled through a grassy incline on the side of the freeway until it got to the adjoining street. From there, it began to move rapidly along the boulevards of the seemingly deserted city.

  As the first tank began to race across the Heart of America Bridge spanning the Missouri River, its luck ran out. Just as it made it past underneath the northern bank of the river, a large barricade loomed up ahead of it. Abandoned school buses had been placed to block off any advance from the southern end of the bridge. Just as the driver cursed and began to reverse the tank, a TOW wire-guided missile emerged from somewhere near the barricade and impacted its rear engine block. The armor protected the crew, but its engine was disabled as a small fire started in the rear of the vehicle. Minutes later, four crewmembers exited the stricken tank, their hands up in the air.

  For a few tense minutes, the third tank rumbled at full speed as it made it to Independence Avenue, a long stretch of road that ran across the northern part of the city’s suburbs. The tank commander had been speechless ever since the attack started and the rest of the crew just kept looking at the driver. Just up ahead of them were a series of roadblocks and they could see bunkers with infantrymen, some armed with rocket launchers. The gunner had instinctively sighted the main 120mm gun, but the commander grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from the optical sights. After a few minutes, the tank stopped and everyone got out as well, while the multiple infrared tracking sights of the Javelin anti-tank missiles were trained right at them.

  The fourth tank wasn’t so lucky. As it rumbled down southwards along the city streets, the M1 Abrams tank had inadvertently moved into the killing zone of the unit that had ambushed the first armored company. One team noticed the tank rumble past them as they stayed hidden on top of a building overlooking Holmes Street. They quickly deployed their two Javelin missile launchers, locked them onto the tank and fired. A few seconds later, the fourth tank was nothing more than a smoldering bonfire of composites, rubber, plastic, metal, and exploding ordinances.

  Steve cursed loudly as he heard the reports that were coming through his radios. He knew that this was a bad idea. The Feds had planned and executed a stiff resistance in urbanized terrain, just as he sensed they would. Deep in his heart, he realized that the whole cause had gone too far. They were pushing their luck to the point where a setback was inevitable. This was more than just a defeat for the SOL and Christian Kansas, this was an absolute debacle. Now they would be on the defensive.

  He turned to his radio operator. “Patch me in to Colonel Jones.”

  The radioman was fiddling with the switches. “Sir, his commo operator says the colonel’s too busy to talk to you.”

  Steve raged. His face began to turn red. “Goddamn it! Tell them to pull back, right now!”

  The second radioman with them looked up at Steve. He had a concerned look in his eyes. “But sir, General Teller’s trapped out there.”

  Steve slapped the younger man’s forehead so hard, his helmet flew off. “I don’t care about one goddamned general, we could lose the entire brigade! Tell them to pull back right now!”

  It was too late. Half of the elements of Colonel Jones’s brigade were already across the bridges. Just as a company of M2 Bradleys started to cross the middle part of the railway bridge south of the Interstate 670 causeway, a series of loud explosions began. Steve and his men watched in horror as the entire span of the railway bridges collapsed into the Kansas River, taking out nearly a company of soldiers and vehicles along with it.

  More explosions reverberated across the city, as numerous bridges that spanned the Missouri and Kansas rivers collapsed. Just weeks before, US Army sappers had planted C-4 explosives on almost every bridge in the city bordering the state of Kansas. As soon as the SOL moved in substantial amounts of troops into the heart of the city, these charges were detonated, thereby cutting the enemy off from any sort of organized retreat. Minutes after the bridges collapsed, Colonel Jones and the remaining men in his brigade came under attack from all sides, as US soldiers came out of their hiding places and began firing Javelin and TOW missiles at his exposed troops in the streets. As the colonel’s lead armored company attempted a breakout at West Bottoms, they came under withering fire from anti-tank teams that were hidden in nearby buildings. In a span of less than ten minutes, over half of the vehicles in the brigade were either disabled or on fire.

  General Teller woke up beneath the shade of the underpass, as men around him were screaming on the radios and at each other. His right hand was being bandaged by a medic and his uniform smelled of smoke. His ears were still ringing as he turned and saw the burning wreckage of his Stryker, less than a hundred feet away. A Bradley IFV was sitting idle behind him as it covered the road on the western side. The
y were in the sunken part of the freeway, the main streets of the city were more than twenty feet above them. They were exposed from at least three different sides and couldn’t move without coming under fire. Oh my god, we’re like fish in a barrel here, he thought.

  That was when they saw brief glimpses of men hiding, up in the roofs of the nearby buildings as well as the crackling, popping sounds of gunfire. They were clearly surrounded as they could see the top of the helmets that the enemy wore. One of the soldiers got down to one knee on the ground and started firing single shots at the suspected targets using his red dot optical sight. A split second later, he instantly fell backwards as a high velocity rifle round entered just below his left eye and exited through the back of his head.

  The other soldiers started hollering as two of them started to drag General Teller towards the back of the Bradley. One of the men was hit in the leg and he fell down beside the general, clutching his knee as his terrified screams reverberated along the sides of the freeway walls. Teller used his other arm and dragged himself backwards, even though he knew it was of no use. The overhang above them was too narrow and there were too many vantage points for snipers to use.

  Just as he got close to the Bradley, the infantry fighting vehicle suddenly lurched forward, throwing Teller off balance as he fell to its side. The driver of the Bradley had evidently panicked and decided to leave them all behind. The Bradley rapidly accelerated out from beneath the underpass and tried to use the two burning vehicles in front of it as cover. The men who were still on the road screamed at the driver to bring the vehicle back, but the Bradley kept on going, its rear doors were still open and swinging back and forth as it raced around the burning tank. All that Teller could do was to prop himself up on one of the support columns of the underpass as the fleeing Bradley disappeared from view because of the smoke.