Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (30 page)

Wallace narrowed his hazel eyes. “They are ready to move against us. I say four days tops before they reach Denver, all the equipment they’re moving should slow them down.”

“Sir, they procured planes. LAX is being taken over,” a soldier said who sat before another screen.

“Bring up the screen, Carlson.” The screen changed to LAX. Raymond frowned and touched his stomach with his right hand. “Why didn’t I think of bombing LAX?”

The screen showed armed black clad troops in formation on the tarmac. A few aircraft taxied as if prepared for takeoff.

Joan squeezed his strong shoulder. “I didn’t think about bombing the place either.”

“General Black.”

“Sir.”

“Get the troops ready. I want them deployed to Denver within the next forty-eight hours. Send in the B-2 Bombers and destroy LAX.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wallace turned to Joan. “I’ll meet you at Denver International.”

Joan nodded. “No problem.” With those words, she forgot about the elevator and shot straight through the war room ceiling. She pushed her way upward and landed on the parade field next to Daisy Lane.

“Daisy, we got a problem.”

Daisy’s lips formed a tiny O. “Got tired of trying to stay normal uh…what now?”

“Temeculus is moving his army, they stole a few planes from LAX.”

Daisy spat on the ground in disgust, the soldiers ended their run, faces damp with sweat. They stopped and performed exercises to cool down. “Are they ready, Joan?”

“We’ll find out when we get to Denver. For the moment, I need you to load the troops. Find a space in Denver for their armor. I’m heading straight for Denver with President Wallace.”

“I understand.”

Joan seized Daisy’s wrist. “Wallace said three to four days before they arrive in Denver. With Temeculus’s power, they might arrive within hours.”

Joan realized the troops fell silent, listening with intent to their conversation. She turned to the ten thousand soldiers dressed in various physical training uniforms. “Guardians, ready yourselves for a war.”
 

A cheer erupted from the Guardians. Goose bumps peppered Joan’s skin. The troops ran en mass for their barracks to ready themselves for the trip to Denver, Colorado.

After Joan left for Denver, Daisy Lane helped load the Guardians into C130 transport planes. The planes sat on a runway built a mile from the training grounds. The close location made for an easy deployment. Daisy left the makeshift airport and walked into the Presidential Cabin packed with excited soldiers.
 

Daisy turned a corner and entered a room where she found Lucia laid on her bed with her arms wrapped around her slender waist. “Are you okay?”

The teenager sat up. Her wet eyes rolled up to the angel. “No. I’m terrified.”

Daisy leaned over. “Being a little afraid is okay, Lucia.”

“Are you sure, Daisy? I’m shaking too much.”

“Can you travel on your own?”

“No. Are we leaving now?”

“Yes, we need to go now.”

“The battle is about to start?”

Daisy Lane nodded and helped Lucia’s to her feet. “Yea, he decided to fight early, almost caught us with our pants down.”

 
She led the girl outside the cabin. The activity unfolded fast and coordinated. Hummers and trucks packed with troops headed towards the airport one mile away.
 

Daisy changed into her armor, slipped an arm around Lucia’s small waist and took off into the air. The soldiers paused as the angel flew into the sky.

55

General Temeculus gathered his army for a tremendous pep rally. He graced the pitcher’s mound at Dodger Stadium, dressed in faded blue jeans, and crosshatched red and blue work shirt. He also wore a Stetson cowboy hat and brown boots.

“We’re gonna’ have ourselves a foot stomping good time,” he said to the stadium packed to capacity, with an extra four to five thousand souls added. A few thousand more jammed the outside parking lot.
 

The crowd roared. The noise shook the ground underneath a slate gray sky filled with unnatural clouds. Behind Temeculus, in military formation, stood his personal guard, one hundred Roman Praetorians soldiers brought back from Hell in exchange for an eternal walk upon the planet earth.

Temeculus changed clothes from cowboy to Hell spawn in a fast, almost comical blur. He appeared in his black armor with sheathed sword at his side and a blood red sash tied around his waist.
 

The general lifted both arms into the air and the crowd cheers doubled. Black Angel stood on his left side and Wrath on his right.

“You all gambled on me,” said the general, his arms raised and fingers splayed out. “Now I will lead you all to victory and eternity in both this world and the next.” His followers went frantic. Temeculus waved at his devotees and their voices settled to low murmurs.
 

“First, we will offer my father in Hell his due before we move out,” he said and clapped his huge hands. From the dugout, soldiers pulled four naked people on the playing field, two men and two women.
 

Temeculus drew a black dagger from his waistband and approached the four victims bound with rope. Two soldiers held each sacrificial victim by their arms. He moved to the first victim. The soldiers forced the man to his knees.

Temeculus placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you ready to give your life for Satan, so he can walk this earth and the gardens in Heaven forever more?”

The man lifted up his swollen and bloodied face. “Die you bastard.”

The general laughed. “So original,” he said loud enough for the crowd to catch. Guffaws and harsh laughter exploded throughout the stadium and settled down once again.

Temeculus slit the man’s throat with ease. Hot blood spurted in a bright red arc and splashed against his hideous armor and face. Life fled the man’s once angry eyes, the body slumped upon the deep green turf.

Sergeant First Class Jason Aries, dressed in a black military uniform, blended with the crowd. He cheered and jeered along with the mob on the outside, yet his heart broke once the first sacrificial victim died followed by the second, third, and fourth.

Jason, a soldier with the 5
th
Special Forces Group, accepted the mission into Los Angeles to infiltrate and report on the Black Army’s movement. The other soldiers on his team hid in plain sight throughout the ballpark. They collected as much information as possible until the army’s actual march. Their secondary objective involved plans to sabotage vehicles within the convoy before their escape.

Jason flinched at the final sacrifice. Temeculus sawed through with his dagger and decapitated the naked woman. Blood showered his black metal boots in pulsed gushes. Her legs kicked until life fled her battered body. The crowd cheered so loud his ears started to ring.
 

The mob continued to applaud the Hell spawn’s viciousness with an excitement reserved for a World Series game. Temeculus kicked one victim’s body. The corpse hurtled like a ragdoll into the dugout. The ballpark shook harder than an actual game. Vendors walked the aisles with heated boxes hung strapped around their necks. They hawked stale beer, hotdogs, salted pretzels with yellow mustard, and roasted peanuts.
 

Jason brought his wrist to his mouth and spoke into the concealed transmitter.
 

“We need to go now, all teams go now.” Jason moved down the stairs toward the exit. To either side his team emerged from their random positions in the stadium. The crowd continued to revel in bloodlust.

The Special Forces soldiers trailed outside the packed stadium and moved through the thick boisterous crowd enthralled with Temeculus’s blood driven pep rally. Double sixes sat burned on all the Special Forces foreheads. Their command staff promised to put them under a skilled plastic surgeon to remove the marks upon their return home.

Jason gathered his men near a burnt out hotdog and hamburger kiosk. The convoy vehicles parked in the stadium’s lot remained under guard. Trucks and cars by the thousands sat lined along the roads around Dodger Stadium, all equipped with mounted weapons on their rooftops. He studied the seven men tired faces.

“Listen, we’ll take the middle vehicles out first, they are spaced far enough apart. If we can, destroy the lead vehicles. Get this done so we can head for Chinatown and home.”
 

Jason turned toward downtown Los Angeles. The cathedral’s height amazed him and cast a haunted and gloomy figure against the dark sky. The city lay at its feet in ruins like a defeated boxer.
 

An uncontrollable shiver shot down his back. Jason yanked a black balaclava from his cargo pants pouch and pulled the cover over his head. The mask concealed his face except for his focused brown eyes. His team donned theirs and waited for their sergeant’s orders.

“Our two Hummers are waiting for us in a garage half a click from here.” He swept his eyes over his men one last time before their mission. “Check your weapons and let’s go.”

The hooded eight-man team moved along the parked vehicles. They received greetings from Black Army soldiers. A quarter mile later, they neared the transport trucks.
 

Jason wanted to clog the street with dead vehicles and impede the convoy’s departure time. He approached the first soldier and waved. The man waved back.
 

Jason aimed his silenced M4 rifle, squeezed the trigger to let loose a three round burst into the guard’s chest. The three rounds made wet sounds louder than the actual rifle report as they smacked into flesh, killing the enemy soldier.
 

“Staff Sergeant Rendon, Mickey, and John John, set up the C4,” Jason said. The other four-man team dispatched the guards for the second vehicle. His troops dumped the dead bodies into the cargo holds on the trucks and placed the remaining explosives into the troop transport vehicles. The men moved away at a steady pace.
 

Jason lifted his wrist. “Molly, I’m coming home with the kids how copy?” Jason waited for a response. His men would take the Hummers and meet Molly the Black Hawk helicopter near the La Brea tar pits for their exfiltration.

“Good copy My Dear, we’ll arrive soon,” came the reply.

Jason lowered his wrist as an enemy guard appeared from behind a truck.
 

“Hey, where you guys going. We’re about to leave,” the fat guard said to the team.

Jason cursed under his breath. His men continued ahead, ignoring the guard. Jason faced the man and walked backwards to cover his team backs. “We got other business to handle.”
 

The enemy unslung his old yet lethal M16 rifle. Jason sucked in breath, turned and dipped his hand into his cargo pouch. He produced the remote detonator for the explosives and flipped up the protective button cover with his thumb. With twenty yards to go, the team remained too close to blow up the trucks.
 

“You guys walk like you got a purpose,” Jason said low in his voice.

The enemy soldier set a foot on the rear bumper of the second cargo truck. He grabbed the closed tailgate lip, and hauled himself up to the cargo hold. He peered inside and discovered a dead body and the explosive device inside. His head turned towards the eight men. He jumped down from the back, lifted his rifle, took aim, and fired.

Jason’s muscles jerked once three crisp pops reached his ears. He spun as a man went down with a grunt. His troops returned fire and knocked the heavy soldier to the ground. Another enemy appeared and called out to his comrades further down the convoy, his urgent voice drew a larger armed group.
 

A Special Forces soldier picked up his downed friend, hefted him over his shoulder, and ran towards Chinatown.
 

Jason stopped, dropped to one knee, and squeezed off rounds at the enemy soldiers. He killed the town crier who hailed his brethren. Jason’s heartbeat kicked up in his chest as the enemy answered him. Rounds buzzed near his head. He got up and ran after his men.

“Hey Jason, why don’t you detonate that thing,” Staff Sergeant Ray Rendon said.

Jason lifted the detonator and pressed the tiny red button. The explosion shook the ground. Screams hit the air. A mushroom cloud red with flames rolled into the sky. The shockwave shoved them all to the ground like a giant hand slamming against their backs.

Jason caught his breath as flames burst over their prone bodies. The terrible heat singed their uniforms. The team shook off the concussive blow and took to their feet while the enemy still stumbled about in shock. A few Black Army soldiers rolled on the ground in flames.
 

Jason and his team sprinted hard. Shouts went out behind them. Another gunfight ensued as they fought to escape. Jason glanced back. Rounds continued to whiz and pop close to their heads.
 

In the distance vehicles blazed, charred bodies covered the ground smoldering. A heavy swoosh kissed the air. Red and orange fireballs roiled into the sky ten feet past the team. The enemy decided to fire rockets. Sweat broke over Jason’s forehead.

The soldiers switched the wounded man as they rounded a corner. Bullets peppered the ground at their feet. Hot lead kicked up rocks and dirt, pocketed the walls, and sprayed blown concrete in their wake. They scrambled ahead and spotted a man at the end of the block. He stood next to a white box truck and waved them forward.

Jason struggled with taking a chance with the newcomer. No burned sixty-six scarred the man’s forehead. Their Hummers sat two blocks away and the enemy moved fast. Vehicle engines revved in the background and grew louder. Chinatown sat near Highway 110, a millions miles away for the Special Forces soldiers. He made the decision to try the old man to their front.

“Get in the truck. Hurry up and get in the back, I need the boss up front with me,” the man said. Helicopter blades started to cut the air.

Jason turned to his skeptical men. “Get in, if this is a set up I’m gonna pop him and take the truck, now go.” His men piled into the truck’s cargo area and closed the door. He jumped in the passenger seat. The man climbed in next to him and started the engine. Jason pointed his M4 at the stranger.