Overrun (26 page)

He only watched briefly.

He slipped the strap of his
assault rifle to the back of his left shoulder and unhooked the tire iron that
dangled from his belt. He clutched it tightly in a balled fist while he stepped
through the deserted streets towards the bright lights of the overrun city
ahead.

The first truck parked directly
in front of the building’s entrance. Kirken pulled to a stop just behind it.
Soldiers rushed past both sides of the cab and began to hurriedly unload what
it carried in back. One of the men rushing by snatched open Kirken’s driver
door to make it easier for him to get out.

Kirken pulled the pack
containing the remaining explosives from the passenger seat and swung his legs
quickly out.

A stink of blood still coming
from the cab filled his nostrils and choked his throat. When he slammed the
door behind him, it was quickly swallowed up by the smell of smoke and burning
gasoline.

He ran after the men who were
pulling open the truck’s rear cargo door. He kept his head down to hide the
blood and wounds that covered his face. He became quickly lost in the pile of
bodies scrambling into the back to drag out its load.

One of the soldiers threw a
heavy box down next to him and motioned for him to grab it at one of its ends.
Kirken took the side offered to him and rushed alongside the soldier helping
him haul the heavy box into the building.

Another explosion came from
outside the gates causing the soldiers clambering about to unload the trucks
scramble even faster. Five men drove forklifts to the rear of both trucks to
extract what remained.

Kirken followed the soldier
through the doors of the armory. Together they heaved the box across a stack of
others at the back of a small receiving room just past the outer doors. Men
with crowbars pulled at the crates knocking a few on their sides and causing
their contents to spill across the floor. Kirken felt his eyes open wide at the
sight of automatic, chemical and rocket weaponry strewn haphazardly across his
feet.

The soldier he had helped carry
in the crate bent over and quickly scooped up two of the larger weapons from
the piles. He stuffed one into Kirken's hands and knocked another crate near
him crashing to the ground. Kirken stooped next to him and filled his pockets
and gear with the ammunition clips that spilled from its side.

Kirken looked up at the man next
to him and saw the fear he felt himself race noticeably behind his eyes.

The left side of the soldier's
face was badly burned. Just above his left ear where hair should have been was
only charred skull. Blood seeped from a wound where pierced metal still
protruded from the skin along his arm.

Like Kirken, quick shallow gasps
rasped from the young soldier’s throat.

The sound of excited voices and
automatic weapons fire thundered loudly outside.

The soldier lowered his head and
stared at his weapon while he jammed ammunition quickly into its empty
chambers. When he was through, he glanced up briefly at Kirken and then pulled
his eyes away. He ran back towards the open door where more soldiers continued
to drag weapon crates away from the blasts still coming from the exploding
trucks.

Kirken stood up and ran after
him. When they met the rush of soldiers coming back in their direction, Kirken
pushed away and became lost in the crowd. He pressed through to its edges and
slipped into the shadows of the dark decrepit building.

As he did, he watched the
soldier he had helped haul in the large artillery box disappear outside the
door.

Kirken slid along a crumbling
stone wall away from the troops carrying the crates. A few more steps down the
corridor, a staircase appeared suddenly from the shadows on the wall to his
left.

Kirken dashed up the steps
fleeing the soldiers and welcoming the comforting darkness of the unknown
gloom. The deluge of the soldiers’ voices and the explosions outside
disappeared behind him leaving him alone to run from his own monsters chasing
him through the dark.

He darted away from the shouting
voices that came from behind the entrance doors to each floor. Some hung
partially open allowing him brief glimpses of what was inside.

What he saw numbed his mind and
made him desperately want to just squeeze his eyes shut.

Hundreds of soldiers poured
through the floors of the compound reaching for the assault weapons and
sophisticated tracking equipment strewn and jammed across every open space of
wall and floor. The large doors of the bank vaults were wedged wide open
revealing piles upon piles of additional weapons inside.

Kirken saw all this at a glance.
Taking the steps more than three at a time, his terrified breath echoed like
rapid gunshots through the metal stairwell. He didn’t break his stride until he
reached the thirty-fifth floor and the large metal door that led to the
entrance of the roof.

There he ripped his pack from
his shoulders and threw it next to him onto the ground. He snatched hurriedly
at the straps holding the holovid safely within.

He bent over and leaned across
the stairs as another violent stomach retch escaped his throat. Blood hammered
hard from his heart. The feeling was so intense he could feel the pressure of
his pulse pressing outward from the backs of his eyes.

He ripped open the holovid and
looked nervously down the stairwell as the device breathed to life. When he
finally looked back, General Tuttle's rigid expression encompassed most of the
screen.

"Tuttle."

"Kirken?" Tuttle
responded anxiously. "Are you in?"

"I'm in," Kirken
answered hoarsely. "I'm about to get out on the roof. So far I don't think
I’ve been detected."

"We haven’t seen or heard
anything,” Tuttle spoke quickly. “We’ve been monitoring most of their
communication and surveillance transmissions. We haven’t come across anything
so far that would make us think they’ve been alerted to your presence. But you
won't be able to transmit from there for long. The signal will be picked up
pretty quick."

"General, what they’re
readying here. It’s way more than you think. Rockets, ammunition and troops.
Men and weapons. They're all over the goddamn place. They're preparing a major
offensive. It’s going to come from right here."

"We’re aware," Tuttle
responded gravely. "We’ve detected an enormous surge in troop movement
heading towards your area. They're coming from all over the region and massing
in Beuford. Amounts are staggering. It won't be long before we're forced to attempt
a firebomb from the air."

"Tuttle, from what I’ve
seen…the sheer amount of men that are already here…” Kirken’s voice rose and
lowered again as fought to keep from betraying the panic he felt.

"We know,” Tuttle’s voice
was earnest and grim. “Dome 15 is in grave danger. We've been watching this
progression closely. As of yet, we still haven't been able to get a demolition
unit in. Both single-man and smaller squads have breached the perimeter, but
that’s it. It’s as far as they got before meeting resistance. Most were killed.
Some were forced back. You are by far the deepest one in. "

Kirken tried to ignore the
sickness in his heart and stomach. He looked away from the holovid toward the
pack of explosives next to him on the floor.

"For what it’s worth,
there’s not much left,” he said looking back. “I don't have much left.”

"How many?"

"Five," Kirken
replied. “Five working undetonated explosives.”

"Who would have thought
everything would have come to this?" Tuttle breathed out slowly.
"Listen to me, Commander. You’re going to have to set them all up to go at
once. Simultaneous detonations. We can’t risk one of those troops finding and
neutralizing one in between. We’re going to need the most damage you can
possibly get with what you have left to keep this from being a wasted
effort."

“It’s not going to be enough,”
Kirken whispered at the screen. “Five, even detonated together and undetected,
will not be enough. Not enough to get it all.”

“No, most likely not,” Tuttle
responded just as quietly. “Five most likely will not be nearly enough.”

Kirken dropped his eyes away
from the screen.

"Commander, you haven't
been given many choices," Tuttle continued in a hurried grave tone. “But
there is one that you do still have. You can choose how this will all end.
Right here. Don't let the world we live in win. And don't leave it without a
fight."

“In most other times I’d agree
with you,” Kirken said still looking down. “But it’s not even me I’m worried
about in here.”

"And that is why you have
to come out, Commander."

Kirken raised his head. A faint
tear glistened near the corner of his eye.

"Hide yourself away
somewhere and begin constructing your explosive set. By combining the
explosions together you might get just enough of a blast to bring the entire
building down. And not give any of them a chance to get out. It’s the only way
it’s going to work. You're going to have to make sure that's the way you set it
up."

"What if I can’t get this
done? You’re going to have to risk a nuke. Send one in and take care of this
place. It’s just a matter of time before that dome is discovered. Best we
damage or destroy it ourselves with a nuclear bomb rather than letting them
come in, ransack it, then take it out."

"We don’t see it coming to
that. Air and ground teams should be able to launch once you initiate the
blast. Our response efforts will still somewhat hinge on your success, but if
you can bring enough of that building down or just do enough damage to occupy
their forces there, we should be able to launch a large enough assault within the
hour to annihilate whatever’s left."

Kirken looked down away from the
holovid again. Through the corner of his eyes, he could see Tuttle watching him
sadly from the busy command room on the other side of the screen.

He was about to say more when
the sound of voices came faintly from the bottom of the stairwell. Numerous
excited voices accompanied by heavy footsteps. Kirken slammed the holovid shut
and threw it to the edge of the stairs.

The voices became louder and
more close as additional soldiers entered the stairwell.

Kirken took two steps back,
lowered his shoulder and charged at the door. Flying across broken pieces of
shattered wood, he rolled twice over in the rooftop sand. He quickly pulled
himself from the wreckage and ran to the guardrails surrounding the roof's
sudden edge.

Looking around for soldiers
possibly already out on the roof, Kirken pulled his pack from his shoulders and
dropped the five explosive charges and a small black box in front of him in the
dirt. Using tiny tools he pulled from the gear hooked to his side, he pried
away the fronts of their control panels and began adjusting their controls to
synchronize the blast timers.

He then pulled apart the black
box and made the necessary adjustments to remote detonate the entire explosive
set should the need for that come to arise. When he was through, he tucked the
tiny box securely into his gear near the holstered weapon hanging from his
belt.

With the explosives and remote
prepared and set, he chipped a hole into the decayed brick of the building's
upper wall and jammed the first charge inside. He pushed it deep enough within
to conceal the tiny blinking lights signaling power to the device.

He filled the hole with gravel
and sand to further camouflage it from the view of any soldiers that might
happen by. Satisfied it was hidden completely from sight, he hurried toward the
shattered doorway and darted through.

Holding onto the rails and
leaping down stairs whole sections at a time, he charged down the stairwell to
the door of the eighth level. He pressed his head against it. Not hearing
anything on the other side, he slowly pushed it in.

The halls behind it were dark
and deserted. Two vaults with doors yawning wide open lined the walls on either
side. Kirken reached in his pack for the next explosive device when the ominous
sound of footsteps and two loud voices suddenly appeared ahead from around a
corner.

Kirken raced for one of the open
vaults and quickly ducked inside. The footsteps and the voices further
approached.

The vault was dark and filled
with crates strewn and stacked about the room. Some laid open like the widened
mouth of a screaming face with their lids next to them along the floor.

Kirken slid through the stacks
and lowered his body behind a large pile at the rear of the vault. The two men
to whom the voices belonged reached the edge of the open door and continued to
walk past.

Kirken raised his head and hands
just enough to utilize the outside hallway light and pried off the back cover
of the next explosive.

By now, the two voices had
disappeared completely away.

After synchronizing the
detonator's signal to the remote at his hip, he wedged the small device between
the two crates and dropped a crate lid across the top to conceal the blinking
lights. He then moved slowly to the edge of the vault door. With his back
against its side and his body still hidden within its darkness, he gazed
carefully through.

Seeing no one else out in the
hallway, Kirken pulled his pack back up across his shoulders and stepped from
the vault to the door that exited the floor. He gazed once more around and
slipped back into the stairwell.

Behind him, one of the crates he
had shifted fell with a loud crash before the door had completely shut. No one
approached to investigate the noise.

Kirken pounded down the next set
of stairs more than four of a time. The loud sound of his heart hammered
mercilessly against the tiny bones of his ears. Adrenaline and nauseous fear
surged through his veins. His stomach sent another foul-tasting reminder of its
violent protest up through his throat.

He was four steps from the next
level when two soldiers stepped into the stairway. Both their heads were
lowered and lit cigarettes dangled from their fingertips. When the loud
crashing sound of Kirken's footsteps finally drew their attention up, it was
already too late.