Winter Kill 2 - China Invades Australia

by Gene Skellig

  “I think we should just sit and wait it out,” said Jeff. “Once things settle down, we can figure out what to do. Besides, our side might win. The Chinks – Sorry, Sunny – the Chinese don’t seem to have a lot of men here, yet. Maybe if we go outside, we can find help to fight them off.”

  “With what? Our bare hands?” said David. “Besides, Jeff, one of the local boys might mistake Sunny for a Chinese guy, and shoot him. It looked to me like some of those Chinese men shooting at us were in civilian clothes.”

  Slightly relieved that someone else had broached the topic, Sunny opened up.

  “Look, Guys, David is right. I can’t do anything about the color of my skin; I’m scared shitless. I don’t want to be here when the sun comes up and we find ourselves in Chinese-occupied territory. There must be Australian military coming to fight them, and then I’ll be in danger from both sides. I have to get the hell out of here, tonight.

  David and Jeff did not reply. They just looked at Sunny, trying to absorb what he was saying. Everything had been coming at them so fast.

  Sunny knew he had to go; he had no other choice. He took a slight breath in and said what had to be said. “You guys may have more options than I do, so if you don’t want to go along with me, I understand,” he said. There. He’d laid the cards on the table. David and Jeff still did not answer, but they looked at each other, as if one was asking the other for an answer.

  Sunny hesitated in the silence. He started to turn and head out the door.

  David was the first to speak. “What am I, King of the Dipshits?” Sunny turned back. David was not smiling; nevertheless, Sunny was glad. “I’m not taking off on you,” David continued.

  “We’re sticking together, Sunny,” Jeff said. “After all, what the fuck else are we going to do?”

  While the boys talked about their options for a few more minutes and the darkness began to fade into pre-dawn, the town became much more quiet. From what they boys could tell, the Chinese had won the battle for the town. They could hear people shouting orders in Chinese. David and Jeff kept asking Sunny to translate, but he could not hear the shouts well enough to catch very much of what they were saying.

  And then suddenly the boys heard Chinese shouting inside their building. The sounds came up clear as a bell from the entry hall below. They were terrified, as were other kids who had poked their heads out of their rooms to listen to the alien language and peer up and down the hall to see what other kids were doing; the more timid ones ever so gently closed their doors and looked for places to hide in their dorm rooms. But the three boys crept down the darkened hall together, to the top of the stairs, crouching down as if that would make a difference.

  When they got close to the top landing they got down on their hands and knees and peered through the gaps between the ornate woodwork of the handrail.

  There were about a half-dozen soldiers below.

  One of them brushed the flowers and other ornaments off the table in the foyer to clear the surface for whatever he had in the leather satchel on his hip. The noise of the decorations crashing to the floor carried along the main floor corridor, drawing out some other students from their dorm rooms on that level, eliciting a quick burst of gunfire from one of the soldiers.

  Judging by the screams and muted anguish coming from the kids’ rooms at least one of the students must have been hit.

  Strangely, the soldiers did not even care to investigate. It seemed as if they were not the slightest bit afraid of the children. The Chinese soldiers just wanted the civilians to stay back, to hide in their rooms, while the soldiers did whatever they were doing.

  Sunny could hear the men clearly now. He understood what they were saying. He listened carefully, absorbing everything he heard.

  “Get the map out,,” ordered one soldier.

  “Captain!” replied a very tall, skinny soldier, who whipped out a leather map-case and unrolled it on the table.

  “Show me where we are?”

  “We are here, at Lord Byng Academy,” another man jabbed his finger on the map, “It is to be the Officer’s quarters. There are fifty rooms on each level, with two beds per room. There is a kitchen, normally served by a staff of seven, a dining hall, an exercise room and other comforts. All in all, it is quite suitable for our Officers.”

  Smiling in agreement, one of the young Captain’s closest friends seemed to find something amusing.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?” asked the Captain.

  “Did you not hear the name of this establishment? ‘Lord Byng’,” he said, now smiling broadly.

  “Yes, I know the name. I have read it a hundred times in my mission planning. So what?”

  “Maybe that’s why we missed it, because we read it first, and did not simply hear it spoken.”

  Mouthing it to himself a couple of times, the Captain finally got it. “Oh yeah. Well, I don’t think that General Bing will ever come here, but yeah, it is an interesting coincidence. Of course, the General Byng that this place is named after was a British hero in the First World War. He commanded Australians at Gallipoli and the Canadians at Vimy Ridge, so there are lots of schools and such named after him. He was part of the British nobility, hence the ‘Lord’. Whereas in the case of General Bing, he will be made Lord, or Emperor, or whatever noble term he chooses, only after winning the war. Then there will be lots of schools and hospitals named after our General Bing,” the Captain lectured, to the smiling agreement of the junior officers and senior NCOs assembled in the foyer.

  “No reason we can’t carve off one of the sides of the ‘Y”, so it would read BING instead of BYNG, offered one of the Sergeants.

  Hearing the overly casual manner the Sergeant spoke to himself and the other officers, the Captain snapped back into the task at hand, and the requirement to remain aloof. He sneered at the Sergeant for his impertinence.

  “Get rid of the students and establish a security perimeter. I want this facility transformed to an Officer’s barracks in time for Colonel Yip’s arrival tonight,” ordered the Captain.

  “What do we do with the children?” asked the Sergeant.

  “Kill them, of course.”

  “No. I mean, what do we do with their bodies?”

  “Oh. I see your point. We don’t want a stinking mess here. Okay. Don’t kill them here. Take them out to that racetrack, where the other civilians are being herded to. All except the kitchen staff. Keep them and a few boys here as servants. Keep a few of the prettier girls too, for Colonel Yip and his staff to play with.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And get that English speaking corporal in here. May as well have him tell some sort of story to the students in English, so they are easier to manage.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The skinny soldier headed outside, presumably looking for the English speaking corporal.

  Turning his attention back to the map, the officer turned his attention to a Chinese man in civilian clothes.

  “So how many Dragonflies do you have in town?”

  “Originally I had six men here in Charters Towers. One you met at the airport. He did a great job of taking out the airport security when you and the first wave landed. Two others died at the Queensland Police Service’s Police Detachment. They failed to take out all of the police officers there, I’m afraid. But some of the soldiers on patrol hunted the last of the cops down on the streets soon after. The police have all been accounted for, by the way. The three other Dragonflies are still at the telecommunications hub, setting it up for local control, for when we begin transmitting instructions to the local population at large, they’ll be working with Corporal Tang.”

  “That’s it? You only had six? Pretty risky, wasn’t it, trying to cover all three objectives with so few?” asked the Captain.

  “Well, all of the other Chinese residents of this town were unsuitable, and I thought it too risky bringing in a fresh face from my base of operations. The Chinese in this town see themselves as Australians first, and could not be trusted. I
did better in Townsville, here, on the coast,” he pointed out a small port city on the northeast coast, “I got two dozen Dragonflies in place there. They did a great job during the initial assault, if I may say so myself.”

  “Yeah, I heard that we got the that port facility without too much trouble. Is it true, your Dragonflies were able wipe out an entire Company of Australian soldiers?”

  “Not the entire company, but we certainly made them combat ineffective. My boys broke into the armory and armed themselves to the teeth. They got a 50-calibre and a bunch of FN-Mag-58s set up right on top of the Australian’s assembly area, waited until a good number of men had responded to their general mobilization call, and then opened up on the reservists as they stood around on the parade square waiting for instructions. The poor bastards never stood a chance. That, and with the Intel and transport my Dragonflies in Townsville provided the follow-on force that came off the bulk cargo ship, and we got control of the entire dockside area before the Australians even knew who they were at war with!”

  “Fantastic. Too bad we did not do as well in Perth or in Darwin. Fucking Americans. They really screwed up our operations there.”

  “I heard it was the Indians.”

  “No. Well, Yes. The Indians did sink a couple of ships in the Indian Ocean, but it was the American warship in Darwin, and a couple of Australian fighter jets, that shot down most of the airliners headed for the central and western targets. I heard they also got pretty much all of Group Army 13’s follow-on forces in the Indian Ocean, and totally destroyed the 14th’s ships in the East Timor sea,”

  “They did all of that with just one warship and a couple of fighter jets?”

  “Something like that, who knows, really? The real failure here – or success on their part - was due to their CIA people at some communications facility in the middle of Australia. They somehow figured out what was going on and got some of the Australians organized very rapidly, at least in the Central Sector, anyhow.”

  “Does that put our operation in jeopardy?”

  “Far from it. We may have lost two Group Armies, but we still have three that landed essentially unopposed along the east coast. All it means is that we have to press hard through this town, towards Darwin ultimately, to make up for our losses. Maybe the units that reached the extreme north west will keep them busy long enough for the 124th Division to pass through here, and move on into Northern Territory,” said the Captain, confidently.

  “So at least some of the air-land units made it safely to the west coast? Did we at least get a foothold there?”

  “Yes, we got a foothold. But not much more than that. We have inserted some very talented units, and they have control of the north-coastal highway – at least in a few spots – so they can cut off any organized response out of Perth and hold on for a month or so, buy us time for tertiary units to arrive once the sea lanes are cleared of enemy warships.”

  “Tertiary? What about the second wave?”

  “Fucking Americans sunk them too. Gone. But we got their Carrier Task Force in the Malacca Straights soon after. Nuked ‘em good.”

  “Holy shit! Will that be enough? I mean, after the third wave, from what I understand, and that’s it for six months.”

  “Yes, but we’ve got enough of an advantage on the northeast, thanks in large part to some of the other Little Dragons who paved the way, that once we get across this Highway A2 and capture Darwin we’ll own the top half of this continent. Then all we do is push down to Alice Springs and Adelaide in the center, link up with our Special Forces holding along the west coast, and we’ll have a lock on this continent no matter how many men the Indians get ashore in Perth.”

  “You make it sound so easy, Captain. But there’s still a lot of towns and cities to capture, and a few thousand kilometers to cross. I’ll tell you one thing, this Australian continent is massive.”

  “Yeah,” replied the soldier, thoughtfully. “But we have the advantage. They have no idea what’s going on. Their air force, navy and army are mostly whipped, and we have the weight of numbers. Once we snuff out the threat of counter-attack and clamp down hard on their civilians to stifle any ideas of insurgency, we’ll be in good position to hang on for six months. After that, there will be so many of us here, and we’ll be so well entrenched, there will be nothing the Australians, Americans, or Indians can do.”

  “So the push to Darwin is the key?”

  “Yup. But enough of that. We’ve got a town to exterminate. Well, almost exterminate, that is. We want a few survivors to get out, to tell the Australians just how ruthless we are. Then we will have less trouble pacifying the more important towns, down in Queensland.”

  “More important? I thought that Charters Towers was important, strategically,” replied the spy.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. This place is crucial on the operational level. It’ll be the headquarters for the 41st Group Army, and our logistics base for pushing two divisions westward. But in the longer term, it’s not going to be important, because it’s not a food producing region, and when the nuclear winter sets in and people begin to starve to death all over the world, it’s going to be all about the food.”

  The Captain was interrupted by the tall skinny soldier, who had returned with the Corporal Tang.

  “There you are,” said the Captain. “Get on with it. Tell the students here that nothing bad will happen as long as they are not resisting. As long as they cooperate with our forces, nobody will hurt them. Tell them that we just need to process them with the Red Cross officials who are at the racetrack on the west side of town, and that they will be free to go once that’s done,” said the Captain.

  “I know the drill, Sir. I’ve repeated it about a dozen times already tonight,” said the Corporal.

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Corporal. Just get them out of my barracks, or you’ll be thrown in with them at the racetrack when we open up on them!” shouted the Captain.

  The Corporal shut his mouth, headed off down the hallway with the tall skinny sergeant and a few privates, and began calling out to the students in English.

  Sunny had understood it all, but his two friends did not. They were listening to what Corporal Tang was shouting in English down on the first floor. The promise of Red Cross officials and safe passage made the boys hopeful. But when they saw the expression on Sunny’s face, and the urgent way he gestured at them to follow him away from the stairs, they knew that something was seriously wrong. They followed Sunny back down the second floor hallway.

  He led them quickly to the stairwell at the far end of the hallway without stopping at his dorm room, walking tiptoed on carpeted hallway. The other two boys followed suit, instinctively trusting Sunny.

  Hesitating for an instant at the top of the rear staircase, Sunny thought about the other children, and thought of warning them. Safely out of sight for the moment, Sunny and his two friends crouched down together.

  “They’re lying. I understood them in Chinese, and what they are saying in English is not true. They’re going to herd them into the stadium, where they have already herded others, and then they’re going to slaughter them all,” Sunny said.

  “No way,” Jeff whispered in disbelief. “Soldiers don’t do that kind of thing.”

  “Shut up, and listen! We have to get out of here. We can try to warn the others, and get killed, or we can sneak out and save our asses. What do you guys think?”

  “Shit. That’s heavy. Those kids have no idea. They’ll go along with that Red Cross bullshit – I would. We have to warn them,” said David.

  “I agree,” said Jeff, but I don’t want to get killed doing it. What should we do?”

  Looking at the fire alarm, Sunny got an idea. “Come on, follow me!”

  Sunny led them down the stairs, right past the main floor, and into the basement. He hoped that the soldiers would focus on the first two floors, looking for kids in their bedrooms, and not explore the mechanical spaces in the basement right away.

/>   Feeling safe once they were in the mechanical room at the extreme end of the complex of historical original buildings, more additions and the maze of connecting passages that made up Lord Byng Academy, Sunny told the boys his idea. They nodded their heads in silent, albeit vigorous, agreement. Then the boys proceeded up the narrow stairs from the electrical room up into the back end of the administrative offices, which were thankfully unlocked. They felt safer there than any time since the crises had begun because they knew that the soldiers would have to break in through the locked front door of the academy’s offices and work through the confusing series of interconnected old rooms before they would be anywhere near the back office. That is, unless they came through the basement as the boys had done, but that seemed unlikely. Even some of the students did not know about the back way into – and out of – the office.

  After discussing his plan in hushed tones for less than a minute, they were ready. Each boy had a task, and took up positions. David stood on top of a chair, holding a cigarette lighter. Jeff held three lengths of pipe he had scrounged when passing through the mechanical room. With the weapons tucked under his arm, he stood ready by the fire alarm pull-handle. Sunny was seated at the desk normally occupied by the Vice Principal each morning, facing the microphone that sat on the desk.

  All three boys knew that they would not have much time, and were primed and ready to put their plan in motion.

  The ear-splitting squeal shocked the soldiers, who looked around at each other in near panic. The children, on the other hand, welcomed the horrible sound. It was the first bit of normalcy in an altogether abnormal night. They listened intently as the Public Address system came to life, the unpleasant noise fading away once the circuits had warmed up.

  What they heard, however, surprised them, because it was in Chinese.