Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels

by Anthony DeCosmo

  The incoming wave slowed, but did not stop. They lobbed fragmentation grenades into trenches. They sprayed lethal acid into pillboxes from backpack tubes affixed to hose-like guns.

  That last line of defense became fully engaged with the spearhead of the enemy thrust. Certainly this was the moment the invaders hoped for after months of attack. Indeed, as the smoke screen blew off, the human commanders saw the Chaktaw reserves readying to join the assault; to provide that last assault to breach Thebes' defenses.

  "I’ll order Third Legion forward," Snowe announced but, again, without any panic.

  "No!" Trevor shouted then repeated, "No. We’ll need them for later."

  Gronard set his plan into motion with a radio call, "All batteries, fire!"

  The human artillery came to life, lobbing over the Chaktaw vanguard and into their mustering reserves catching the confident attackers on open ground. Poncho-wearing bodies flew into the air with each explosion, many in small pieces.

  "Demolition control! Ignite primary charges!"

  The explosive second ring of defenses popped off like fire crackers, tossing enemy infantry and decimating the heart of the attack wave.

  The Chaktaw’s own artillery was powerless to intervene; any shots at the human defenses would also hit their own soldiers. In contrast, nothing inhibited Gronard's guns. Shells pummeled a relief force, first halting their advance then sending them into retreat.

  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 ga
ze 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.

  Trevor stepped over those bodies with his bayonet pointed down, waiting to spot movement and eager to put an end to any Chaktaw that still breathed. He stopped his work to eye a soldier leading three unarmed enemies away.

  "Hey! Whoa! What’s this?"

  The soldier answered, "Prisoners, sir."

  Stone pulled his side arm. "Prisoners? Fuuuck that."

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Trevor holstered his gun and tried to get back to work but Nina approached with a question. "What do we do with the bodies?"

  As Trevor answered, he made sure his voice carried to any within earshot.

  "We take our dead home. No one gets left behind, understand?"

  Trevor emphasized his point by making eye contact with as many of soldiers as he could.

  She asked, "And the Chaktaw?"

  He thought for a moment. He thought about how The Committee's ineptitude had taught the Chaktaw they could attack Thebes with impunity. He thought about humanity down to one last city; humanity trapped in a corner seemingly on the verge of total collapse.

  Whatever mistakes his predecessor had made on this world, this Trevor would not do the same. It was time the Chaktaw and their ilk understood that Thebes would no longer be an easy target.

  He told her, "I have an idea…"

  …The men worked. They smashed the Chaktaw’s carts and wagons into wood beams and metal poles and found straps, rope, and cord to bind and secure. They hammered and built and hoisted as the afternoon grew long and as the sun dropped toward horizon. The sound of their construction echoed over the quarry walls.

  All the while Reverend Johnny watched. He watched with an
expression that morphed from disbelief into shock into horror. He could not even register a protest to Trevor, for he feared what the response might be.

  As the last light of day turned orange and flickered away behind the horizon ray by ray, Trevor’s masterpiece was complete.

  While the armored vehicles and buggies loaded supplies and people and bodies in preparation for the return trip, Trevor and Nina stood in the shadows of his creation.

  "So, what is it?" She asked.

  Trevor told her the truth.

  "A warning."

  His answer complete, he walked over to their buggy and climbed in the passenger’s seat. Reverend Johnny sat silent in the back.

  Major Forest took one last look at what Trevor had constructed, then drove them away in the direction of Thebes; in the direction home.

  They left behind the bodies of the Chaktaw, eviscerated bodies hanging upside down in the twilight; blood and gore dripping; arms dangling toward the ground and secured to roughshod crucifixes made of wood and metal.

  Hundreds of them, lined together row upon row along the ridges of the quarry. On display for all to see. For all to know.

  For all to fear.

  20. Unleashed

  "The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the Red Death."

  --The Masque of the Red Death, Edgar Allan Poe

  Stone had expected a platoon of The Committee’s guards to arrest him at the city limits. Instead, his welcome-home party consisted of enthusiastic soldiers including many of the wounded who had survived the Chaktaw assault on the northern perimeter earlier that day.

  While they represented only a tiny fraction of Thebes, the crowd would carry their enthusiasm across the city. This day's victory would join with the renewed spirit at the training facilities and the story of a destroyed Geryon Battleship to create a wave of momentum. More disillusioned, unfocused soldiers would change into willing warriors.