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  I didn’t even bother targeting either of the vehicles. They have an armored hide that the best I could hope for would be to chip the paint. But what wasn’t armored were the tires. BTRs have been around for a long time, with that one glaring vulnerability, and the Russian answer has been to install winches on each vehicle so it can be more easily recovered if disabled by multiple flats.

  Using the tracers to direct my aim, I began shredding the left side tires on the vehicle closest to me. Soon it was bogged down, unable to do more than move in a circle as all four tires on one side were destroyed and the heavy vehicle crushed its steel wheels into the dirt. It was a good thing that it couldn’t move, but a few flat tires didn’t have any impact on its weapons.

  “Down,” I screamed as the BTR’s turret turned and lined up its canon on our position.

  Diving into the bottom of the hole, I cursed when someone’s boot struck the side of my face. Then I didn’t care as the first of the 30 mm rounds slammed into the edge of the berm surrounding the hole. The Russian fired for several seconds, thoroughly saturating the area with high explosive shells. If we hadn’t been below the grade of the surrounding terrain, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pretty.

  The First Sergeant’s face was inches from mine as we both pressed as tight to the bottom of the hole as we could.

  “I saw an Arty unit on the map at the CP,” I shouted. “Time to bring some smoke.”

  He nodded and began squirming, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small map book. Mortars continued to drop all around us as the second BTR joined the party. We were in the eye of the storm as both the Russians and our own troops tried to turn us into jelly stains.

  The First Sergeant, Dutch I finally had time to read the name tape on his uniform, started screaming into his radio. He referred to the map book, calling in the fire mission. He listened for two seconds and confirmed the read back before stuffing it back into his pocket.

  It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before the first artillery shell arrived. Dutch poked his head up when he heard it coming in, verified where it struck and got back on the radio and screamed, “Fire for effect!”

  The artillery battery must have been close because it wasn’t long before even over the nearly deafening roar of battle I could hear the freight train rumble of approaching shells.

  “Gotta be 155s,” Dutch shouted, referring to 155 mm shells.

  I didn’t argue, or do much of anything else other than hold my mouth open to equalize the pressure in my head and hopefully preserve my ear drums from the pounding that was about to begin. Then the shells arrived, the earth shaking hard enough to bounce me an inch or two into the air. By the time the third shell struck, all fire from the BTRs had stopped. Then the Red Leg Soldiers manning the battery went to town.

  The barrage continued for nearly three minutes. Three minutes of explosion upon explosion, drowning out all sounds and shrinking my world to a near constant roar. I couldn’t tell if the mortars were still dropping in my immediate area and couldn’t have done a damn thing if they were. When it was finally over, an eerie quiet descended over this part of the battlefield.

  Weapons of all descriptions were still being fired just a few hundred yards away, but within reach of the artillery barrage nothing was happening. Anyone that was still alive was face down, trying to dig their way to China. Opening my eyes, I saw Dutch speaking on his radio and I couldn’t figure out how the hell he could hear to carry on a conversation. Raising up slightly, I looked around at the total devastation.

  The ground in the area of the BTRs and the leading edge of the Russian advance had been churned up and cratered, looking very much like a desolate moonscape. One of the BTRs was burning furiously, the other unrecognizable. It must have taken a direct hit as not much more than the steel frame was left. As I watched, a few Russian heads began poking up from locations that had somehow survived the attack. I looked down when Dutch banged on my arm.

  “What?” I shouted when I could see his lips moving but wasn’t hearing anything other than a high pitched tone in both ears.

  “Second fire mission?” He shouted back.

  I looked back out at the Russian lines, seeing more heads still emerging from cover. Farther back I could see movement and wished for a pair of binoculars. At the limit of my vision I could see several large trucks maneuvering into a line. I stared for a moment to make sure of what was mounted on the back.

  “Tell the Red Legs to bug the fuck out,” I shouted, grabbing Dutch’s arm and pulling him up onto his knees.

  He looked where I was pointing, cursed and relayed the message. The Russian trucks were carrying the Tornado, multiple rocket launching system. They’d probably had time to track the inbound artillery on radar, determine the location of the battery and were about to send a few dozen high explosive warheads in return for the pounding we’d just delivered.

  Dutch continued shouting into his radio and as my hearing slowly returned I was able to make out what he was saying. I was also hearing another voice in my ear and it took me a moment to remember I also had a radio with an earpiece. I had apparently landed on the frequency being used by the Air Force and was hearing targeting missions being relayed to pilots. Sometimes even I get lucky!

  One of the flyboys had already spotted the Tornados and called it in. I listened as an A-10 pilot acknowledged the new target. Standing and watching the destruction of the Russian rocket launchers would have been fun, but more troops were pushing into the area that had been devastated by the artillery attack. We were running out of time.

  “On me,” I shouted, leaping out of the hole and running across the hill.

  The Russians regrouped quickly and before we had covered fifty yards there were bullets coming our way. Fortunately, we were running away from them and there weren’t any additional BTRs to light us up with canon fire. Still, we sought cover as we moved, none of us particularly enamored with the thought of getting shot in the ass.

  There was a bloom of white smoke from the direction of the Tornados and moments later multiple rockets streaked overhead. Almost before I even registered that the Russians had fired, a pair of A-10s screamed by on my right, seemingly only feet above the ground. I had lost elevation and could no longer see the truck mounted launchers, but I heard the buzz of the Warthogs’ guns a heartbeat before a massive explosion erupted on the horizon.

  Still running, I glanced back and was happy to see all of the Rangers were still with me. Turning back to the front, I rounded a low hill and damn near got my head blown off by friendly fire. Three soldiers, a Corporal and two Privates, were huddled behind the hill.

  I wasn’t in uniform, still wearing the all black tactical clothing Titus had given me. If not for Dutch shouting that we were Americans, my day would have ended right then. We were in a low area that for the moment was screened from the battle raging all around. I didn’t know why these three were here, and didn’t give a shit.

  “Where’s your CO, Corporal?” I asked, skidding on the snow as I pulled to a stop.

  “Who the hell are you?” He asked, not lowering his rifle.

  “Major Chase. Now where is he?” I stepped forward and pushed on the muzzle of his weapon until it was pointing at the ground.

  “Dead, sir,” he said. “So’s our Top.”

  “Who’s in command?” Dutch asked, looming over the frightened man.

  “Lieutenant Willis,” he said, sparing a glance at the two Privates with him.

  “Take me to him,” I said.

  The Corporal looked at me for a few long moments, swallowing nervously. I saw the fear in his eyes and realized what he and the other men were doing. They were running. Well, I’d deal with that later. If there was a later. It sounded like the fighting was growing closer.

  “Now, Corporal,” I said, staring hard.

  “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze and turning back towards the sounds of the heaviest fighting.
/>   I pushed him to a run, the Rangers corralling the other two and keeping them in front. We rounded a couple of hills, small arms fire steadily growing louder. Incoming RPGs and grenades punctuated the sounds and we had to slow and start using the terrain as protection from Russian fire.

  Soon we were moving past fighting positions that had been hastily dug in the hard soil. Bullets were passing overhead and the occasional enemy mortar dropped in to keep things interesting. I was dismayed to see a large number of bodies on the ground. For every two men still fighting there was probably one of their brothers lying dead. This was insane. These men should have been pulled back.

  To my left, beyond a low line of short, rolling hills, the bulk of the Soldiers were spread across the terrain facing an advancing wall of Russian troops supported by BTRs. They had maybe five minutes before every single one of them was dead. There’s overwhelming odds, then there was what I was seeing. Maybe two hundred men faced off against five thousand.

  “Dutch, get those men pulled back behind these hills,” I shouted.

  He peeled off, taking two of the Rangers with him. The other two stayed with me, following the Corporal around another hill. I pulled to a stop when I looked up and saw a tall, thin man standing on the top. He was completely exposed to enemy fire and held a large pair of binoculars to his eyes, watching the approaching Russians.

  “There,” the Corporal pointed and tried to slip away before being body checked to a stop by one of the Rangers.

  Before I could speak, the man turned slightly, looking at something closer. I saw his back stiffen as he spun and leapt down the side of the hill.

  “Who ordered those men to withdraw, goddamn it?” He screamed. His eyes were wild, face florid and spittle flew from his lips.

  “I did,” I said, stepping so I was directly in front of him when he reached the bottom of the hill.

  “Who the fuck are you?” He shouted, eyes searching my clothing and not finding any indication of name or rank.

  “Major Chase. You’re relieved, Lieutenant.”

  “Like hell I am,” he yelled, stepping forward until the toes of his boots bumped into mine. “We’re holding this ground! No one’s going anywhere until the Russians are stopped!”

  Before I could take his head off, mortars began dropping much too close. The Russians were responding to seeing the troops repositioning behind the hills. We all turned as a Havoc attack helicopter popped up from behind a larger fold in the terrain. He was no more than a quarter of a mile away, directly facing us.

  “Oh fuck,” went through my head the instant I saw the helo.

  18

  “Hey, LT. You’re wanted on the sat phone.”

  Navy SEAL Lieutenant Sam looked over from the observation window he was standing in front of to see Master Chief Petty Officer Gonzales holding out a small handset. It was connected via an encrypted wireless signal to the satellite phone system they had placed on the roof of the building. Taking the offered device, he raised it to his ear and turned back to watching the three infected males that were in secure isolation. They were test subjects for Dr. Kanger’s efforts at creating a Terminator virus.

  “Go for Sam,” he spoke into the handset.

  “Do you show secure on your end?” A voice asked.

  Sam lowered the handset and checked the display, verifying that the call was properly encrypted and secure.

  “Confirmed,” he replied.

  “This is Lieutenant Hunt at Pearl Harbor. I’m in charge of the Cyber Warfare unit and we wound up in control of the remaining surveillance satellites. We have been monitoring your area since the sinking of the Russian battlecruiser, Peter the Great. The reactor core was breached and radiation levels are continuing to rise.”

  “How bad?” Sam asked, turning his attention away from the infected.

  “We’re unable to determine that from orbital based analysis. The system was a former black budget NSA project and we’re still learning how to use it. What we can tell is that there has been an increase, but we’re unable to measure the values. That’s why I’m calling.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sam said, hiding his irritation and wishing the man would get to the point. “If you can’t measure it, how do you know it’s rising?”

  “We are receiving a radiation alert from the satellite, and are also observing wildlife and infected in the area of the docks that are dead or dying.”

  “I’m sure it’s bad right next to the reactor, but the docks are several miles away and there’s terrain between here and there,” Sam said.

  “Correct, but there’s also a steady wind blowing directly over you from across the site. I’ve checked with several nuclear power engineers here in Hawaii and they all agree that there’s a high possibility you are at risk. But there’s also another problem.”

  “Of course there is. What else?”

  “We engaged the Russians a few hundred miles off the coast. The Russians used nuclear Shipwrecks to take out two of our carriers. Weather patterns are bringing the radiation your way. Much of it’s falling into the sea, but combined with the reactor breach on your doorstep…”

  “So what do we do? Pack up and move? There’s nowhere else for the scientists to do their work.”

  “Moving has not been advised yet. The recommendation is you need to isolate the building’s environment from contaminated air, make preparations in the event you do have to relocate and monitor the fallout levels where you are,” Hunt said.

  “The building is already sealed. It’s a bio-research lab. Any ideas where I can get my hands on a Geiger Counter and radiation suits?” Sam asked sarcastically.

  Few things scared him, but here was one of the two at the top of his list. Radiation. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he was most afraid of the things that could stealthily kill him before he even realized he was being attacked.

  “The experts’ best suggestion is the University of Washington. It’s close to your location and you can get there by boat. We’ve identified the nuclear physics lab, which is the most likely place to have the equipment you need. There should be exposure suits in the lab in the event you have to move, as well as potassium iodide pills to protect your thyroid glands against radioactive fallout. I’ll text the specifics to you momentarily.”

  Sam took a deep breath and let it out quietly. Another damn trip outside. Another risk of detection by the Russians. And if that happened, they’d come in here and wipe out the work the virologists had done. His orders were to keep the facility buttoned up and off the enemy’s radar, but if he had to keep taking trips outside…

  “What’s the status of the Russians? Still evacuating?”

  “They’ve evacuated all civilian and military from a ten-mile radius around the docks. The University is not within the evacuation zone, but you are at the moment. We threw a lot of conventional Tomahawks at them. Took out a lot of infrastructure they were using, but they’re still coming in.”

  “Do we really need to be concerned inside this facility?” Sam asked, doing a masterful job of disguising his frustration.

  “According to the experts, yes, you do. You are most likely safe, but after briefing the Admiral he wants to make sure. There are other labs where the work could be conducted if we need to move you.”

  “Other labs? Where?”

  “Two, actually,” Hunt said. “One here in Hawaii, but it’s not well equipped. The other is in Australia.”

  Sam was quiet for a few moments, digesting everything he’d been told. He was by no means knowledgeable about what Kanger and Revard were doing to create a virus that would kill the infected, but he doubted it would be a simple thing to just pick up and move. And the risk of losing one or both of the scientists during an extraction from occupied territory was higher than acceptable.

  “Understood. Text me the location of the University’s lab and I’ll put a plan together.”

  Sam broke the connection without waiting to see if Hunt had anything else to say.

>   “What’s up, LT?” Gonzales had stayed within earshot during the call.

  “That’s just fucking great,” he said when Sam filled him in on the conversation. “What if the levels are too high when we go on our little boat trip to the University? We get exposed to find out we’ll be dead if we go outside?”

  “We’re not paid to like it, Master Chief. We’re just paid to do it,” Sam said, handing him the handset and leading the way down a long hall.

  “Yes, sir,” Gonzales grinned. “Maybe I should have listened to my mother and joined the Peace Corps.”

  “Travel the world and meet strange new people? But the Peace Corps doesn’t let you shoot them and blow shit up.”

  Sam grinned back as they turned into a new corridor.

  “Yes, sir. There’s that little drawback, for sure.”

  By this time, they had reached a common area of the large facility. A radio call gathered all the SEALs that weren’t on sentry duty. Within ten minutes they were all in a large cafeteria, occupying a small corner. Sam briefed the men, a couple of them voicing the same concerns Gonzales had in the hallway. This time the Master Chief shut down their objections with a few terse words.

  “We’re going tonight,” Sam said, wrapping up the briefing. “Master Chief, I want a run through ready for review in an hour.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gonzales answered as the young Lieutenant strode out of the room to give Kanger and Revard a heads up.

  The SEALs settled in around several laptops that were connected to the satellite signal and allowed them to access maps and sat imagery from the servers in Hawaii. Getting to the University was easy. The hard part was going to be getting to the Nuclear Physics Lab building once they disembarked their boat. While the sprawling campus wasn’t thronged with infected, there were still enough to overwhelm the men if they were caught in the open and couldn’t concentrate their firepower.

  Then they had the problem of breaching the lab itself. Any facility dealing with nuclear physics had always been well secured, but after 9/11 the US Government had conducted a review of all such locations within America and installed dramatically stronger defenses. Any glass in the building would be thick and ballistic rated. Very tough stuff that could only be breached with explosives. Doors would be tough, heavy and just as difficult to penetrate.