Alexander grinned in triumph, striking the match and blowing it out, the smoke swirling upwards, ‘Exactly…the tick screams, thus releasing its jaws and waves its little legs in agony to fall off the patient…you them scoop it up and throw the blood sucking vampire down the toilet…they don’t like that very much!’ He would then look down, jabbing the red hot match onto the back of the tick as if to demonstrate, usually lifting the bloated struggling tiny body for her to examine, the unaware dogs usually now asleep in front of the open fire by then.
Occasionally the crackling flames would spit embers, the couple giggling as they removed the red hot shards from the smouldering carpet or fur, the exhausted dogs rarely even waking in alarm or confusion, occasionally looking up as if to dismiss the human intervention as silly. As she smiled in fond memory, she recollected another time when she had even thought of a final question, ‘So what happens if you touch the red hot match onto the dog’s skin instead of the tick by mistake?’
Alexander had grinned in response, a playful hand rising to his chin in mock thought before staring deeply into her eyes, projecting his imitated Sherlock Holmes English voice, ‘Elementary my dear…you get bitten, but not by the tick!’
Margaret was chuckling, her head shaking dismissively, ‘You daft old bugger…what did you go and leave me so early for? That damn fascination and love of roast potatoes…that bloody fish and chip shop for lunch every day at the office…too much cholesterol in chips, deep fried pizza, black and red puddings.’ Her hands rose to opposite shoulders, chest swinging slightly from side to side as a tear ran down her cheek, her teeth clenched to suppress a sob, ‘I loved you so much…’
A sympathetic wet muzzle pushed against her right outside thigh, her hand dropping gratefully to the older dog’s muddied and matted hair as the animal whined softly, sensing his mistress’s pain. Another of the older dogs nudged on the surface of her left thigh, her sob becoming a tearful grin as one of the other mongrels abruptly sat before her, licking his jaws and panting, lines of saliva dribbling from both sides of its jaws as its tail wagged furiously.
The wind whistled around them, the final greying female Fox Terrier joining the third before her, the dog shaking its head as she grinned, bracing her body against the gale and splattering sea droplets and smiling, ‘Okay…shall we go back to the car now? There are biscuits there and your blanke…’ Her voice trailed off as furious barking suddenly erupted nearby, the assembled four dogs all turning their heads. The drenched three younger ones were strained and stiffened at the edge of the land before it descended down to rocks, hackles seeming to rise as they snapped and barked in rising anger, staring out over the swirling angry sea.
Margaret strained her smarting, bloodshot eyes, a hand rising to her forehead instinctively as the older dogs began to stiffen and turn, low chest growls resounding around her as she strained further, unable to see much more than a few hundred metres in the grey, moisture thick heavy air, the waves crashing against the rocks below as frothing surf surged upwards, then crashed back down.
Then the murmur swept over her, a faint sound burbling and pulsing, then increasing, seeming to fill the air as it rose in volume, her stinging eyes straining further. She took a couple of steps back as fear swiftly ignited within her chest, the older dogs’ growling rising as one bared its teeth, then two others, the fourth snapping as the Fox Terrier’s head lowered in anger.
Margaret gasped as she briefly glimpsed dots low in the sky, then they became obscured briefly in the drizzle before appearing again, the dark shapes nearing and becoming more pronounced, angular lines across their hulls as she stepped back, glancing round in rising fear.
The barking became furious, seven dogs snapping and growling as she turned to run, looking over at the distant lorry and drawing breath, the silhouettes of figures running forward and lowering, the soldiers clearly alarmed as one silhouette stared through the water drenched windscreen in horror.
Two of the dogs glanced round, turning on their haunches to follow their mistress, the others continuing to bark as the air trembled and shook, the angular vessels approaching rapidly towards the coastline, rainwater pouring from the darkened hulls, the sea swirling underneath.
Then the craft swept over the coastline, accelerating and surging forward, the soldiers below counting the craft and shouting warnings in alarm as a sharp monotonous tone sounded on the short wave radio in the lorry cab, the set jammed as all other communications immediately became jammed across Skye and western Scotland.
Margaret was running as fast as she could, seven dogs now circling around her and panting in fear, their initial bravado reduced to whimpers as they sensed an oncoming threat, the ultimate motivator being the terror rising in their owner. The roar of engines behind became intense, overwhelming her senses as she ran with her terrified head forced down, desperate to escape. She sucked the cold wet air, realising the large vehicle was over two miles away as her chest heaved, wincing as the arthritic pain she took painkillers daily for suddenly decided to intervene, surging through her lumbering knees.
Slowing in resigned exasperation, her leg muscles jerked in agony, Margaret’s head twisted from side to side breathlessly as the surging, pulsing roar echoed across the heather, the dogs nuzzling against her thighs in aguish, panting in fear. Looking up, she stared in awe at the slowing craft that suddenly filled her vision through the murk, the dark grey hull glistening with rainwater, her sight straining as she stared towards the resin cockpit windows. Numerous other vessels streaked past on either side as Margaret stood transfixed, a solid black helmet staring back at her before disappearing as the craft moved past.
The reinforced hull slowed, turning slowly in the rain drenched sky as the heather shook beneath, wet earth thrown upwards, Margaret shaking her head as it lowered towards the ground, under hull thrusters flashing briefly as the craft landed with a dull thud some one hundred metres ahead. The dogs growled further as she physically shook with fear, staring at the angled craft, the side door ahead sweeping upwards as Margaret drew back, reaching desperately for the leads in her deep jacket pockets as the dogs whimpered, hearing distant shouts of alarm from the north.
The lights seemed to glimmer from within the hold of the transport, then a tall armoured shadow stood before the illuminations, stepping out into the downpour, the light flickering off the rainwater falling onto the black armour.
Margaret staggered backwards in shock, grabbing for her dogs on either side as the growling increased, the lone armoured figure staring straight at her, red helmet eyes flickering and then becoming constant as the right upper limb extended to indicate northwards. Three bulky tall figures swept from behind the officer and lunged forward through the heather with assault rifles towards the identified position of human soldiers…and warm flesh.
The lone black armoured Morgon moved slowly forward once more, Margaret stepping back as tears filled her eyes, glancing down at the seven whimpering and barking dogs below her, her voice rising in shrieking horror, ‘Please…Please don’t hurt them! They are innocent…just the animals I love!’
Chapter Sixteen: The Ukraine and Northern Russia
A Glimmer of Hope
The Ukraine
Major Johann Kelb stared through his thermal binoculars, grimacing at the smouldering terrain below, flickering heat rising from the torn earth, the phosphorous mines and explosive craters still flickering and burning. Shattered bodies and fragmented hydraulic and broken resin armour lay across the pitted landscape, several frames still crawling forward or firing their rifles desperately towards the slit trenches.
Crouched dark armoured figures stepped through the intense heat sources, assault rifles brandished across their chests as several fired blindly up towards the defenders, the muzzle flashes contorting the view through the binoculars.
Coloured flares pulsed downwards from the pitch black sky, his eyes straining as excitement surged up his spine, the dull crumps and thuds from far behind spreading across the defensive positions,
a nervous tongue running across his lips as he glimpsed the lights sparkle off the walkers, the defensive shields rising across the upper cockpits of the second wave. Smaller mortars puffed from behind the hill, the local Ukrainian militia force commander determined to add to the defender’s potency.
Major Kelb stared forward, a whoosh of shells above as the mortar rounds fell towards earth, the commander jolting backwards as the explosions erupted across the dark terrain. Fire billowed upwards, acrid black smoke churning as brightly burning phosphorous shrapnel arced to the sides, pulsing through the dark smouldering night. Bodies were tossed into the air, many disintegrating as immense shock waves tore through the packed infantry and grenadiers, the German major jolting in overwhelming excitement and relief, glimpsing walkers collapse downwards, the screech of hydraulics and tearing metal echoing through the explosive roar as venomous distant shrieks from the enemy behind filled the air.
The detonations continued, flashes erupting all across the fields below as the artillery shells burst amongst the Morgon front and second line, mortar rounds exploding behind, the high powered guns now being adjusted to fire shells beyond the initial coordinates.
Major Kelb screamed with relish into his microphone, ‘Snipers…take out the survivors! Drive them back…break their spirit!’ The long barrelled high powered Barret rifles cracked and bucked, further shrieks below as the eruptions continued, night becoming day as the explosions tore through enemy infantry and armour.
The major raised his binoculars once more, leaning forward against the fallen tree trunk and adjusting the zoom, the overwhelming stench of burning flesh and acrid smoke sweeping across the defensive positions as artillery shells once more whooshed overhead and rained down on the enemy positions in the valley below.
Fleeing civilians and militiamen stared towards the battlefield from miles around, the night’s sky lit up by numerous flashes behind trees and hills, flares still pulsing high in the heavens as the roar of battle swept over them. Excitement stirred in many chests as hopeful rumours spread rapidly of an alien enemy perhaps being stopped by human special forces…and amalgamation of German and US forces deploying specialist weaponry.
Panzerfaust 3s, SMAWs (Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapons) and RPGs (Rocket Propelled Grenades) swept forward from the defensive positions, the burning afterglows filling the darkened hills as the missiles surged towards the target area ahead. The terrain below now burned fiercely, trees and bushes igniting as ammunition detonated and exploded amongst the bodies, a small number stirring and shuddering.
Major Kelb punched the air in relish, the binoculars rising again as his adrenalin soared, seeing the armoured figures fall back, several crouched and stunned, the continuing explosions ripping through fragmented units, the shrieking Morgon officers attempting to reorganise the advance as the units behind began to slow, several gesturing towards the dug in defences menacingly.
Further phosphorous shells fell amongst the grenadiers and Morgon infantry of the second and third lines, bodies thrown to the sides as the burning and pulsing shrapnel engulfed further units. The armoured soldiers backed away as shrieks of anger filled the night air, mortar rounds dropping across the rear fields as the heated flying fragmentation glimmered across the terrain. Smouldering metal and destroyed walkers littered the flickering fields, specialist Morgon troops desperately attempting to set up rear supporting mortar and rocket defensive positions for the infantry as Kelb strained his eyes, shouting into the microphone, ‘Engineers and escorts forward…execute any survivors! Move the Tanks and APCs up…chase them down…slaughter them!’
Glancing round, he indicated to his second in command, the blonde German running at a crouch towards him through the undergrowth, ‘Target artillery…I want coordinates on their engineering crews…’ He drew a sharp breath as engines roared behind the hill, the squeal of tank and APC tracks escalating as the armour jolted forward, Ukrainian commanders screaming excitedly inside their armoured machines as they heard the latest shout from Major Kelb, his tone almost venomous, ‘Enemy units falling back…destroy them!’
Further flashes filled the fields to the north, the rolling artillery barrage now smashing reserve units, the last few walkers turning away as the Morgon infantry began to withdraw. Then the roar of jet engines above, Ukrainian, Polish and Romanian planes sweeping low over the defensive positions, rockets igniting beneath their hulls and sweeping forward towards the remaining enemy armour and preparing artillery position.
A wall of fire rose in the distance as the fighters banked hard off to the sides, the glow from their engines visible for miles as the explosive sound waves engulfed the positions on the hill. The rocket and mortar pits were obliterated as further artillery fell to the rear, acrid smoke now covering the fields, flashes through the billowing shroud indicating further detonations.
Major Johann Kelb’s voice resounded across the defenders and advancing Ukrainians through their earpieces, his voice stern, ‘Advance only to the map coordinates you were given…we do not know the enemy’s strength further north. Move the artillery forward in support and establish new defences in the forest we indicated…we will wear them down!’
The main Morgon drive towards Kiev had been blunted and driven back…the fields littered with the dead and wounded soon to be executed, numerous walkers and other equipment destroyed. In the darkened heavens above, dropships swept through the earth’s atmosphere and towards predetermined targets.
Urgent messages swept through covert radio and media channels, Morgon warship and underwater vessel commanders shrieking in rage as they realised their first defeat against what they considered to be a negligible and insignificant enemy.
Further reinforcements including some reserves were ordered from the orbiting warships, additional drop ships and reserves despatched towards the Ukraine and central Russia…the Morgon commanders now keen to subdue and conquer as soon as possible.
St Petersburg suburbs
Captain Juri Medvedev stepped cautiously towards the entrance of the apartment block on the ground floor, snowflakes billowing through the opening as he glanced round, several shadowed figures behind him, their assault rifles held tightly across their chests. Most of the dirt encrusted soldiers had scarves over their mouths and knapsacks on their backs, the canvas containers full of tinned food and rations scavenged from the deserted apartments. The ground floor was caked in dust, discarded belongings tossed against the dirt smeared walls, the corridor in gloomy darkness as clouds of exhaled air billowed around the figures.
The officer looked out briefly, the exposed upper part of his face tensing against the bitter cold, frost surrounding the paint flaked doorway and sparkling across the footpaths between the high rise buildings, the few unbroken street lamps now extremely dimmed or without power. Hesitating next to the opening, he stared towards the doorway opposite, seeing a shadowed wave, the infantry unit in the next building also ready to depart.
Swallowing hard, the Russian officer turned, whispering to the soldier behind, ‘It’s gone quiet again now. Stay down…check the other blocks and make sure they are all prepared…we all leave together. The rear guard will pull out thirty minutes later…’
The young soldier nodded nervously, straining his eyes before darting through the doorway, his frame lowered as he ran along the angled enclosed pathways, four feet high walls bordering the frosted walkways. Frozen bushes and low trees were planted above on ornate raised garden sections, the branches and iced leaves dusted with snow.
Medvedev rested his back against the cold scuffed wall, sliding down the surface, his rifle across his bent knees, most of his men also lowering themselves to rest, their nervousness mounting as the exhaled breath formed in further clouds around them, muffled gunfire and shrieks resounding to the north and east. Several soldiers lit cigarettes, the warm smoke swirling upwards as they rubbed the back of their necks or whispered tentatively to each other, a couple checking their weapon magazines as the last spotter s
lipped down the cement stairs to join them, his boots cracking on plaster dust and debris. Lowering onto the second from bottom step, the young soldier nodded to his commander, his voice muffled behind the scarf, ‘The snipers will be down as soon as we move away from the blocks…they say there are skirmishes at the edges of the estate…that they think the aliens are getting ready to attack. Their drones are circling to the east and north…firing down onto any defenders…’
Medvedev waved a hand wearily, glancing back out into the frosted gloom, his voice low, ‘The opportunity to escape is narrowing, so the major in a neighbouring block has ordered that we will all try and leave…an organised fall back to our lines in the south. Each block has assigned rear guard soldiers that will try and protect us or distract the enemy from the upper floors. There is an infantry unit engaging the aliens on the outskirts and they will fall back as we move out…’ He grimaced, ‘We will probably not all make it…the enemy are too strong and all around us…do not stop for those that fall, just keep running.’ He shook his head despondently, ‘We have a long way to go and probably all through enemy held territory…’
The soldiers nodded grimly, most considering the opportunity to successfully escape had passed at least a day ago and were eager to get moving no matter the outcome, realising they stood more chance of passing through any enemy lines in small groups rather than in a large unit.
After some time, the young soldier returned, dropping to one knee before the commander, his breathing deep, clouds of exhaled air around his cold, wide eyed features, ‘Captain…three of the blocks are ready to leave, the others still assembling their men…the major has ordered you to start the withdrawal. Our unit will lead, the others following every few minutes…’ The young soldier swallowed deeply with the biting frost, his body shivering, ‘Each following group has orders to alter their route should we be ambushed captain…the returning patrol from the southern streets have reported it is very quiet…several bodies, but very quiet. They believe the enemy has moved on…’
Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught Page 18
