The Armageddon Effect

by Ric Dawson

Grabbing his weather jacket, Popol attached the pistol to an inside velcro panel and slipped his jacket on.

  “I’ll be on the roof,” he told his clerk.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied.

  Popol briskly walked towards the stairwell. Micha rushed over, meeting him at the stairwell door.

  “Commander?”

  Holding up his hand, Popol said, “I’ll be right back, Lieutenant, hold down the fort.”

  Micha nodded. A worried expression creased his face.

  Popol hustled down the stairs which ended at the thirtieth floor, the general staff center. A building security design flaw had placed the stairwell away from the entry elevator reception area and gave access to the center without having to log in at the security station for those who came down from above.

  Opening the stairwell door, Popol slipped into the general staff center. He walked down the peripheral corridor around the open command area. He returned the salute of a roving sentry who recognized him.

  Rounding a corner, he approached the armed sentry to General Boric’s office.

  The sentry saluted on seeing Commander Popol’s approach. Popol returned the salute.

  “Is the general in?”

  “Yes, Sir!” the sentry replied as he turned and opened the door.

  Popol let out his breath. Anyone but a senior commander would have been stopped and questioned by the sentry. Popol’s gamble counted on getting past the sentry without issue.

  Stepping through the door, Popol waited a moment while the door closed behind him. Two startled clerks looked up as the door closed.

  “I’m here to see the general.” He spoke firmly, hoping to get an extra second for the sentry to resume his post.

  It was enough. In the moments it took the clerks to register his question, Popol had reached behind him and pushed the locking button on the door.

  Moving in a flash, while one of the clerks reached for the intercom, Popol pulled the concealed weapon from his jacket and fired two rounds, one for each clerk. The first shots were to put them down, chest, and with luck, heart.

  Both clerks fell back in their chairs, one sliding to the floor in a crash as his chair tipped over. Running over to the first clerk’s desk, Popol pressed a button under the desktop, releasing the general’s inner office door lock.

  Jumping the remaining distance to Boric’s inner sanctum door, he slammed it open and burst into the general’s private office.

  The general was standing near one of the large windows.

  “What’s the meaning of this!” the general snapped, enraged at the intrusion.

  His eyes narrowed as Popol swung the silenced gun up.

  “Come now, Popol. What’s the matter with you?” The general’s voice turned silky smooth as if admonishing a child. “There’s no need for that. Let’s discuss this, da?” The general’s right hand slipped into his pocket as he kept talking.

  Their eyes met, the crow’s feet at the edges of Popol’s eyes crinkling in mirth at the general’s bluff. He couldn’t hold back the momentary smirk. With a look of terror, the general knew Popol was onto him. He would never reach the button to activate the medulla explosive in Popol’s brain.

  With a jerk, Boric stretched to reach it as a hole bloomed crimson on his chest, pushing him back against the window, then another and another. Soft pops echoed in the room as the general slumped to the hard metal floor. Surging forward, Popol emptied the clip into the general. The last round, point blank, into his forehead.

  Popol smiled briefly. “I should have done that years ago.”

  The general’s lifeless eyes stared back at him.

  Popol pulled a small chain with a key from around the general’s neck. Using the key, he activated the building’s self-destruct sequence. Lights began blinking and a feminine voice started a one-minute countdown over the intercom.

  Popol turned his head towards the loud banging on the door. He vaulted towards a nearby closet, opened it, and pushed inside. A distinctive clunk of a lock release sounded behind him. He pulled the door closed. The closet was larger than usual and sported a smooth coffin-like tube. A light came on once the door was closed, and a back-lit green panel, shoulder high, flickered to life, displaying a series of buttons.

  Popol knew about the general’s secret transport tube. Staff often marveled at how quickly the general could appear from nowhere. Popol clucked. No big mystery if you have your own private bullet train to secretly move about the building and surrounding area.

  He heard shouts coming from behind the door, running feet. He absently swiped beads of sweat from his forehead. Popol hit the button marked Shiomicko, then slipped into the man-sized tube. Once the tube cover was pulled closed, the lights went dark as a floor cover slid open, revealing a large hole. The tube slid into the dark hole and accelerated. After a few moments, the tube leveled out and red lights appeared in the tunnel around the tube as maglevs launched the tube away from the building. The tube shuttle was fast. Ten minutes later, the tube slowed to a stop at the Wraith CIS facility. Popol knew that at least one submarine was stationed there at all times.

  [Melissa - Mel]

  She glanced at the big Swede.

  “The big lug is more injured than he lets on,” she said to herself. Men. Gotta be macho, never mind a gashed wound to the bone with four inches of bloody flapping skin.

  For a brief moment, she admired his face and strong chin. Even with the bandage he looked hot. Thick muscled neck, broad shoulders. Her eyes drifted down. And his chest; solid, muscled, thick. She twitched at the warmth spreading below her tummy.

  “Whoa, Cowgirl,” she mumbled. Pulling her eyes away, she took a breath to refocus. Peeking over the escalator railing, she realized the gun fire had stopped. The Apaches moved off towards the World Trade Center in pursuit of retreating Wraith units.

  “Let’s move, team!” Jim hollered. Everyone got up and clambered down the motionless escalator, onto the street below.

  Jim led them towards the World Trade Center. Mel moved to the right for a clear line of fire as they jogged down the road. Crushed and bullet-ridden cars choked the roadway. The tanks had pushed cars on top of one another like a demolition derby. They moved down the path cleared by the tanks and slipped beneath the overpass of the Tokaido Shinkansen and Yamanote Line. Soft moans, bodies, and blood splatter were everywhere in the packed kill zone under the railway. Wraith troopers on the road had nowhere to run. The Apaches had shredded them. They came out of the underpass to see the Apaches hovering behind the Trade Center. They lifted and moved away while staying in the shadows of buildings. Tracers screamed across the intersection ahead, left to right. Showers of glass and concrete chips flew off buildings.

  Jim stuck his head out then pulled back. “Phalanx guns on the roof are keeping the Apaches back. Let’s work the tower roof with the TP guns,” he said with a feral grin. That’s when Mel heard it, a low rumble from behind them. Glancing back, she saw a line of amphibious assault vehicles weaving their way through the abandoned streets. Her eyes lit up.

  “We have reinforcements, guys,” Mel said. Everyone turned to check amid several huzzahs!

  Going prone, Jim poked the TP barrel out around the edge of the buildings. Mel watched as the barrel’s tri-prong rotated up to engage the rad shield. The guns were more trouble than they were worth.

  “Jim. Maybe you should wait for the Marines. You would take less rads standing next to an unshielded nuclear reactor for a day as those guns put out in a nano-second,” Mel yelled over the roar of the approaching amphibs.

  He just nodded then waved her back, taking aim. Mel rolled her eyes. The boys loved the weapons. Never mind they could malfunction and kill them all. Adrenaline junkie morons.

  “Just wait till your ‘nads fall off. You won’t be so eager then,” she said.

  “What?” Jim asked above the din.

  “Nothing.”

  Mel sat back against the wall. Her scalp burned thanks to the heat from the rocker explos
ion. She blew a withered curl from her face.

  “Half my hair is burned off.”

  “What?” Jim asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Fishing in her medi-kit, she pulled some burn spray out and dosed the left side of her head. The cool spray eased the burning sensation.

  Several bright flashes reflected off the far buildings, the brilliant light from the TP explosions bouncing off the structures. The TP guns were long-range weapons. They decimated whatever they touched. The question was whether or not you wanted to go inside the building after they were done melting it down. Nope. A few strikes from those guns and the building would collapse. If it was still standing, it would be a radiative hell.

  The Wraith tower guns were silenced as the amphibs rolled up to the Octagon team’s position. There were fourteen eight-wheeled vehicles each mounting a 30-mm autocannon.

  The top hatch on the first one flew open. An officer climbed out, jumped down, and scrambled up to their position, waving. In the flickering light, Mel saw the gold oakleaf on his collar. Sven walked over to him and saluted.

  After a few minutes Sven came back and the major returned to his column, raising an arm in the air and rotating it. The amphibs’ back doors popped open and Marines poured out of the vehicles.

  “Force Recon Marines from Okinawa, the Fighting 3rd Expeditionary group,” Sven said as he came up to the group huddled against the building edge. “They want to assault the tower, get intel on these guys and their weapon systems,” Sven continued.

  Pulling back his exposed TP weapon, Jim grunted. “Guess we stand down and support them, it’s their show from here.”

  The major had returned. They saluted him as he approached.

  “You’re the Octagon team?” the major said.

  Jim spoke up. “Yes, sir. We were just softening up the tower. Knocked out the phalanx guns and roof artillery.”

  “I’m Major Mike Machis with the Fighting 3rd. Expeditionary. Vice-Admiral Bracken told us to reinforce you and take the tower intact if possible. What are we up against here?”

  “Unknown number of entrenched, armed, and experienced Wraith troopers. They are dug in with an active defense system around the building. We think we have disabled that system but can’t be sure till we try to breach. They may have armored Rockers, electrolaser-equipped rolling robotic systems inside the building. Tough to take out with small arms fire,” Jim replied.

  Nodding, the major said, “Fair enough. We will try the assault vehicles for breaching. The 30mm rounds should be able to punch through those walls easy enough. Then we’ll move troops inside. Does your team need to go inside?” he asked.

  “Not necessary, Major. She’s all yours unless you want our help. Our weapons are unsuitable for close support,” Jim said.

  The major spoke into his helmet microphone and then looked at the team. “Okay, gentlemen, sit back and we will push inside and clear it for you to come in,” he said and then walked back towards a growing group of Marines.

  The major moved off around the corner with his teams, running from cover to cover. Rifle and machine gun fire erupted from the tower and peppered the buildings with withering fire as Marines dived for cover. The amphibs rolled by and let loose a barrage of 30mm fire as they maneuvered into the large parking lot in front of the Wraith tower. The Apaches roared by overhead, back into the fray, sending rockets and Gatling rounds into the spots where the machine gun fire had erupted moments before.

  Mel noticed something moving behind the amphibs. “Jim. What is that over there?” she asked.

  Everyone turned to look as faint screams came from the underpass.

  Winged humanoids flew among the amphibs and snatched up Marines before flying into the night sky and dropping them.

  “Lasers,” Jim barked.

  Beams of fire burned the sky as they opened fire on the creatures.

  Lane moaned on the ground as more of the humanoids dropped from above.

  “Odin’s Balls. Demons,” Sven yelled.

  The gray leathery creatures landed among the Marines in close combat. They could only fire at those in flight as hundreds appeared in the night sky. Their beams sliced scores in half.

  “Jim, look out!” Kane shouted. Three creatures dropped next to Jim. Two more dropped next to Lane.

  Kane fired at one of the creatures near Jim, burning a gash from its stomach to shoulder. Mel turned as two more reached for her with clawed hands.

  The two creatures next to Lane bent to grab him but Sven howled and charged them. No one but Kane could fire without hitting a Marine.

  Claws swept towards Jim’s head. He ducked and fired upward. A clawed hand fell smoking to the ground amid screeches of pain.

  Sven tackled both creatures near Lane and pushed them several meters back. Claws raked his back, ripping through Kevlar and webbing. Mel ducked and fired upward as Jim had done. A horned head rolled smoking on the ground. Cleaved. She screamed as blood poured from gashes on her arms.

  Jim rolled on the ground and fired up, slicing the legs from a humanoid near him. The torso slid off to the ground. Claws raked Sven’s arms, knocking his weapon aside. A bite from fanged jaws missed his neck by inches. Mel flew back as a claw gashed her face, and landed on her back. Kane stepped up and burned a neat hole in the humanoid looming over Mel. The creatures sank its claws into Sven’s shoulder and began to flap leathery wings. Jim and Kane fired simultaneously, cutting wings from backs.

  Lane moaned and sat up amid the carnage.

  “Lane, stay down,” Jim yelled.

  Two more laser blasts killed the remaining humanoids.

  Mel stood as blood pooled around her. “Well, that sucked,” she said.

  They looked at the approaching choppers when a whoosh sound caused everyone to turn back. A strangled gasp came from Jim’s ripped throat as he crumpled to the ground. Blood dripped from the extended claws of the creature as it rose fast in the air.

  Multiple beams blinked on and diced the humanoid into bits.

  “Jim. No!” Mel screamed and rushed to his body. Jim’s head lay all but severed from his shoulders. We gathered over him as Mel crouched over him, rocking back and forth.

  The distinctive sound of helicopters thumped the air, and the creatures vanished as quickly as they had come.

  With the tower guns silenced, the Marines arrived in force from the air. Chinooks appeared from the gloom and the fast chatter of Gatlin rounds punched the night. The Chinooks deployed Marines on the tower roof. One of the Apaches crashed into the parking lot as weapon fire from the building intensified. The assault vehicles took heavy fire but were well-armored and provided cover for the advancing Marines.

  Suddenly, the building lifted off its foundation. A powerful ground tremor tossed cars and troops into the air like matchsticks. The World Trade Center swayed as the explosion rattled nearby windows. Secondary explosions rippled up the full length of the building, vaporizing support structures. Marines scrambled back as the building gave a spasmodic shudder and collapsed in on itself. Dust and debris filled the entire area with dense smoke.

  # # #

  Lane

  It took several days to excavate enough debris to find the lower levels of the tower. It would take months before anything substantial was found. Only a few bodies were recovered. What searchers did find were two escape tunnels. One led to an empty pier in Tokyo Bay. The other ran underground all the way to Shiomicko. Evidence of recent foot traffic appeared in each tunnel.

  Even though short-lived, the nerve toxin decimated Japan. One-quarter of the population silently died in the most devastating chemical attack in history. The lethality of the toxin exceeded Wraith expectations. Military bases had been primary targets as well as the general population.

  The haunted expressions of those that lived forever ripped away any shred of mercy for surviving Wraith personnel from me.

  During the aftermath in Tokyo, Sven found an opportunity and a secluded spot to speak with Jeff on a social me
dia site. He told us Jeff would fly the children, TJ, and Molly to Colorado and burn a new cavern on the backside of some mountain. Everyone thought it prudent to keep the grav-tech quiet for the time being.

  Once hidden in the mountain, Jeff would contact I-Con and Julie.

  We were debriefed on the USS Ronald Reagan then flown under escort to Buckley AFB in Denver, Colorado.

  On arrival, they took our weapons, handcuffed and blindfolded us.

  “Weell. Hello, Mr. Sudler. It is a pleasure to see you again, you bastard.”

  I knew the voice.

  “Special-Agent-In-Charge Jack Morgan. I can’t say the pleasure is shared. You mind telling me why we are handcuffed after saving the damn world?” I said.

  “Saving the world. There’s a joke. We’re going to find out all about you and your buddies’ activities. Soon,” Morgan said.

  “This is crap. We’re the good guys, you moron,” Kane said.

  “Please resist. And where’s my damn gun? Never mind. Move this trash to their new ‘facility,’” Morgan said.

  We were pushed into a van and shackled to the floor. After some time we arrived at our destination and were herded into individual cells.

  It didn’t take Jack long to show up.

  “Hello. Again,” Morgan said as he strutted into the holding area.

  “I suppose I should give you the opportunity to come clean and tell us what is really going on. But, fact is, I’m sick of your crap. Your bio-toys will be removed by scientists here and studied properly. Just thought you should know.” He smirked as he walked away.

  My head spun as I tried to come up with a plan. Was Morgan controlled? If so, we we’re screwed.

  You can say that again. I was enjoying the whole hero vibe, bro.

  “You have any ideas?”

  Kiss your ass and say … no, I guess not. I’m feeling depressed.

  “You’re about as useful as a bag of rocks.”

  Maybe a new persona will help. What do ya think, cowboy or calico queen for this ‘ere calaboose?

  I massaged the sudden throb in my temples.

  # # #