Uprising
Page 40
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"Word just came in!" yelled Bates, the ranking officer in charge of the eastern assault on Heavenly Bodies. He had just finished talking on his pack radio. His back was to a wall, the battle raging in the square just around the corner. He had to shout to be just barely heard over the ping and patter of bullets whizzing past and ricocheting off of the walls around them. "We officially got 'em surrounded, and we need to push forward and secure the target!"
The soldier next to him, closer to the live fire, half-peeked around the corner. He looked at the square, which had turned into a no-man's land in front of the club with weapons fire pouring out. He muttered, mostly to himself, "Just how in the hell are we supposed to do that?"
"We improvise," Bates said to the man whose name he didn't remember. "Hey!" he yelled to the machine gunner team waiting in the alleyway across the street. "Get that rig upstairs and put some suppressive fire down on the objective!" They snapped quick salutes and ducked into the building.
A moment later, Bates heard the heavy machine gun roar to life. As he peeked around the corner he saw little clouds of dust and mortar flying as the weapon traced large divots into the side of the building, shattering several windows. He thought he could see a few silhouetted figures inside duck down under cover. He grabbed the man next to him. "Find Tucker, tell him to get another MG in on this side!" He jerked his thumb towards the building he stood against, "we gotta keep their heads down if we want to get across this mess!"
The soldier next to him saluted and ran out down the alleyway, cutting around a corner and moving out of sight. Bates sidled over and glanced out. A bullet pinged off the wall a couple of inches above him, showering him with dust and brick fragments. Cursing, he ducked down and fired his assault rifle at one of the windows. He couldn't tell where his shots ended up with all of the other ammunition bouncing off the building.
He took a glance backward and noticed the rotating-chamber tear gas launcher clutched in the hands of a dead man lying in the street. He shouted some quick orders, and the soldier nearest him, a man named Lee, sprinted out and scooped it up. He ducked and danced as bullets zinged by him but made it back to cover unscathed if mildly shaken. After shouting more instruction, the soldier and several others, one carrying a heavy riot shield, managed to get up beside him with some quick maneuvering.
"Okay! We're going to pour on the suppressive fire! Then you," he pointed at Lee, "Young, and Miller are going to advance forward and see if you can get some gas into that building. Hit the first floor! Go!" He grabbed his radio again. "This is Bates! We got three men advancing into the square for high priority task; they need cover! Let's give it to him, now!"
He heard the sound of dozens upon dozens of rifles, pistols, and whatever else they had roared close to Bates as clouds of deadly ammunition peppered the club. The return fire slackened almost immediately as the enemy forces ducked into cover, and the small trio of men sprinted forward. Two of them hefted the thick shield, and the man with the tear gas crouched safely behind it.
"Sharpshooters! Move up and take out anyone aiming at 'em!" He had pulled his snipers back to keep them safe because one had already been killed. Bates did not want to waste the skilled assets. Probably by some lucky stray bullet, he thought. Little did he know, the man had actually died with a long blade between his shoulders an instant after hearing a scuffing noise behind him. Someone had since taken his place, up on the eighth floor, and weapon.
"Machine gun teams, keep up the suppression! Everyone else, get your masks on and prepare to charge on my signal!" The team had reached the center of the square. He saw the two men carrying the shield shudder and stumble under the impact of a few rounds, but thus far no one had been able to keep their heads up long enough to sustain much fire on them.
Lee popped up and launched a canister directly into the front entrance, the gas trailing behind it as it sailed to a perfect placement. He fired two more, and the obscuring cloud was already seeping out.
"All right, let's go! Everyone move!" Bates shouted into the radio. As he watched, Lee aimed upwards towards the windows. The kid's ambitious, he thought. He might be a good shot, but I doubt he'll be able to get one in-
Bates' last thought was cut off violently as Lee's head snapped forward and a red splatter of gore coated the backs of the other two men. He sagged forward, knocking into them as he fell to the ground. He could see the other two men panic as they hefted the shield. Bates watched, mouth open in horror, as they each went down within seconds in the same way, shot from behind.
By now the alleyway was filled with running men, several dozen spilling out into the square. The obscuring cloud of teargas wafting upwards, along with the still-howling machine guns, kept them covered. The gunfire coming from the club still seemed sparse, but that wasn't what Bates was worried about.
Bates yelled into the radio, "Those shots came from behind! Who's behind u-"
A deafening explosion and a wave of concussive force blossomed twenty feet away, right in the middle of a group of charging soldiers. Bates was lifted off his feet, spun around, and hurled to the ground face-first in an instant.
His eyes opened, vision blurred, and a high-pitched whine went streaking through his ears, obscuring most everything else. Bates clambered to his feet, promptly stumbling and falling down. He stood again and shakily leaned up against the same brick wall. He watched numbly as his men, with agony etched in their soundlessly screaming faces, crawled around and bled from shrapnel wounds. Several others ran past him, opposite of the club. His indistinct vision saw dark shapes down some indeterminate distance, firing on his exposed rear flank. Many of his men, recovering from the blast, were cut down in the street.
One soldier, Bates didn't know his name, ran up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder, shouting something at him. Bates could only hear muffled fuzzing, nothing else. The soldier kept shaking him, yelling and gesturing frantically down the street. Bates' eyes lazily drifted that way again; he saw the fleeing shapes of the ambush party. Not sure what the soldier wanted, he nodded. The man snapped a quick salute and swept his arm over his head in a "follow me" gesture. A large group of soldiers, dozens of men, sprinted down the street with him in pursuit.
Bates looked back the other way; several of his men lay in a twisted line up to the edge of the square where the cloud of tear gas concealed everything else. He couldn't tell if anyone had gotten through or not. As he leaned up against the wall, the screeching in his ears started to abate somewhat, and he could hear the sounds of percussive gunfire and yelling of various people.
He stumbled out of his hiding place, moving down the street following after the men chasing the ambush party. He staggered down the street, still in a haze from the concussive force of the blast. His mind casually informed him of bullets whizzing by, ricocheting off of the walls and streets, but he kept going.
In the distance, more than a hundred yards off, he could see a few of his men running and firing in front of them, and he stumbled forward at a quicker pace, trying to catch up.
Muzzle flashes blazed on both sides of the street, filling the space containing his pile of soldiers with live ammunition. He watched, horrified and numb, for ten seconds as every single man in the street screamed, writhed, and fell to the hail of gunfire.
Bates stared for a moment longer, and a couple dozen soldiers poured out of the buildings into the street. They ran out, checking each of the bodies. He watched, a couple of times, as someone drew a pistol and shot one of the people on the ground.
His radio crackled, he ducked into an alleyway as he heard the frantic voice of Olson, who was in charge of the southern flank, shouting, "We're surrounded, requesting support! Ah, Christ dammit. Get in here!" he yelled to some unseen soldier, neglecting to release the transmit button. Talking into the radio again, he yelled, "Enemy forces started spilling out of alleyways and side buildings. Jesus, they fight like animals." The voice became faint as he spoke to someone else. Bates could hear the sound o
f gunfire and indistinct shouting through the radio. "You! Find another way out of this building, do it now!" came the unintended transmission. "We're trapped in a side building. Is anyone out there?"
Bates held the radio up to his face and keyed the command channel. His mouth moved slowly, as though stuffed with cotton. "This is Bates," he said in a hoarse whisper. He stole a glance around the corner. The ambush party started to move forward again.
Relief flooded Olson's tone. "Ah, damn, Bates! It's good to hear from ya. We're trapped, can you send some of your people to help us out here?"
"Negative. Call a retreat. Get out if you can," Bates mumbled, adrenaline desperately trying to stimulate his fizzling nerves to get a semblance of urgency out of him. He ignored the squawking as Olson voiced objections in response. He moved down the alleyway and ducked around another corner. He didn't see anyone else nearby, so he keyed in the open channel. "This is Bates; we have encountered unknown enemy forces on all sides. All forces pull back. I repeat, everyone: full retreat. Head back to Gamma Base, if you can…"
He started running; his legs were still quite shaky, but he managed to keep a decent pace. As he went, the radio crackled again, and he heard Captain Redgick's voice angrily shouting, "What the hell is going on there, Bates?!"
Bates grabbed his radio again, keying into the base's channel as he ran, half out of breath. "Ambush… severe casualties… need to pull back." He stuck the communicator back in its place and continued running. He heard the sounds of Redgick yelling at him, but he ignored it. Get back to base. Just gotta make it that far, his sluggish mind thought.