Chapter 1 - Prologue
The thumping of the helicopter's rotor seemed all too distant to me. I could smell nothing but the musky odor of the dark paint I had smeared all over my face. In my hand was the M4 assault rifle, a staple of almost every military branch in the United States. The gun was so light I could've used two at once, one on each arm. Uncle Sam liked his protocol and procedures though...as well as his wallet. To keep accuracy at a maximum and cost at a minimum, soldiers were told what they'd be outfitted with, to hell with their personal preferences.
"You do what you're told, soldier. That's it."
That line had been spouted millions of times in Basic Training. I do what I'm told, and that's all. And it was true. Sergeant Charles Weston did what he was told, yes he did. The fiasco in Columbia had gotten Sergeant Charles Weston demoted, yes it had. But the Army needs its special ops guys, yes it does. So Sergeant Charles Weston was taken off "tater duty" and put on one of the first helicopters to Hong Kong after San Francisco disappeared under the morning fog. Sergeant Charles Weston had to take the fight to the new enemy, an enemy Sergeant Charles Weston knew would be the death of him.
But Sergeant Charles Weston does what he's told, so when he got his orders to mobilize with the 1st United States Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta...or simply, Delta Force...Sergeant Charles Weston mobilized.
And now I'm here, riding in a bumpy Black Hawk helicopter, a rather old model, with twenty-four other men. A large group for a SpecOps mission, for sure. I had a feeling our lovely Captain would inform us of the true nature of the mission when we landed.
The red "ready" light shone into the darkness, highlighting the men I'd be fighting with. Most looked rather battle-hardened, but then again, that might've been from the bumpy, stomach-churning ride. The jump door was opened and the dense urban jungle that was China's largest city blurred under us like a multi-colored ocean.
I stole my eyes off of the eye-numbing scenery and checked my weapon. I released the magazine from its catch and made sure the shells inside were properly aligned. I didn't want a jam if a firefight broke out. Satisfied, I slammed the magazine home, the clicking sound echoing in the cabin of the helicopter. Not one of the soldiers jumped. Good sign.
I then checked my rucksack, which was slung on my belly. Most of the other guys had it on their backs, but I didn't like the seventy pounds hanging off of my back. Besides, no one seemed to care and always having it at the ready was useful. The only problem would be lack of stealth. If I had to sneak around, I'd just leave the blasted thing somewhere. If I go into stealth mode, all I need is my silenced USP Tactical -which is not standard issue but a gun paid for by my meager salary- and an eight-inch blade.
Speaking of my USP, I pulled the lightweight forty-five caliber pistol from my thigh holster and checked its action. The action was very fluid, so I took a magazine from my utility belt and slammed it home. Again, no one in the helicopter flinched. Very good sign. I thumped the safety latch upwards and returned the beautiful weapon to its home. I snapped the grip-strip over the handle and made sure it was secure.
"You must really love that gun, Weston."
I looked up. The Captain was smiling at me in almost a fatherly way.
A bit embarrassed, I responded meekly, "I'd make love to it if I could, sir."
This roused a few laughs from the men.
"I bet you would, Sergeant."
And with that, the silence returned, accompanied only by the thumping rotor.
As I sat back against the metal wall behind me, I closed my eyes and immediately saw the snapshot the Army reporter assigned to my Columbian mission had taken right when I had learned my entire squad was being demoted and shipped off to Fort Bragg with potato peelers and a truckload of shame. But of course it was the squad's fault. Yeah...even though it had been our Sergeant's curiosity which had eventually left an entire sweatshop, thought to be a cocaine plant, rotting. The squad was only following orders from a ranking officer. Yeah, but he gets promoted and I get the boot. Now that is justice. Justice the American way. I love it.
I opened my mouth and leaned forward, eyes squinted. I had a feeling I was mimicking that photo shown in every newspaper ever printed to a "t." Damn I really hated my country some times. Even if I was serving it at that time...I could still hate it. And I did.
But that was beside the point, but not because I was worried about this mission. No, I knew this mission would end in disaster. What I was worried about was the rappelling part of the mission. You see, they hadn't bothered to train me in rappelling from a helicopter. I had a feeling they hadn't trained any of the other new Delta Force members in the Black Hawk with me. As the green "go" light illuminated our dirty faces, I wondered what the other men were thinking.
The rappelling was relatively easy. My hands didn't think so, though. Good thing I had hastily put my gloves on. Otherwise, I'd be a very malfunctioning soldier. Friction burn from a twenty-gauge rope is nothing to laugh at, kids. No siree.
Some poor fellow named Smithe wasn't so lucky. Two seconds into the operation and we were already down a man. Just great. The area we had landed in was a large grassy patch hidden by a few trees, a concrete plain with a large fountain directly on the other side. Behind that fountain was a wide, but not tall, glass and steel structure that could only be Ung-So Incorporated's building. Ung-So, for your information, was China's largest biotechnological research facility. I could only see the top of this building
But, of course, I could imagine the hastily prepared fortification that looked like it was made of mud. More than likely, it was made of some sort of high-tech plastic polymer that could be sprayed into molds and mass- produced. When this polymer dried, it was as hard as twenty-inch thick lead. The Army had its own version of this ready-made fort. That meant one well-placed bunker-buster could take care of it. Unfortunately, we didn't have air support. Even though I couldn't see it, satellite photos in our briefing papers had shown it very clearly a few feet from the fountain.
The three men that made up the squad I was supposed to lead formed a nice little ring-around-the-rosy circle around me.
"Who are you guys," I asked. Sure, I should've gotten to know them from the Squad assignment sheet in the briefing pack and the short list of accomplishments that detailed each man's career...but this was put together very fast. And from the looks of the other squads, introductions were the order of the day. Apparently, none of the other leaders had had the time to look over the details. This made me feel a little bit better.
The large black man standing directly in front of me saluted and said as quickly as possible, "Alonzo Thompson, sir!"
I nodded in response and turned my attention the short, tanned man beside him.
He responded to the nod in a heavy Spanish accent. "Javier Sanchez, sir!"
His lack of salute didn't bother me. The last guy, a rather stout Italian fellow picked up the trend and didn't even wait for my eyes to meet with his. He snapped a salute and yelled, loud enough to interrupt the other squad leaders in their routine. "Anthony Bergman, ready to serve, sir!"
"Good. Let's huddle around the Captain and get the gritty details."
I turned on my heel and walked the few feet to the Captain, my men following obediently.
Soon, the rest of the squads joined the huddle and the Captain began to lay out the details.
"Ok, men, here's the deal. We're here to gather intel on some new form of weapon the Chinese are supposed to be developing at Ung-So. Word has it that this new weapon, if activated, could be more destructive than nuclear weapons could ever dream of being. That, gentlemen, is not easy on the heart. Speculation out of Army Intelligence says it was this same weapon that turned San Francisco into a large crater in the span of less than thirty minutes. You saw the news broadcasts. Nothing was left but dust and ruins. If this weapon is here, we're going to find a way to destroy it before it has a chance to destroy our country and others.
"Now, we've got six four-man squads. Squad leaders are Mills, Gardner, Sheldon, Weston, Jackson, and Sheridan. Mills' squad will flank the bunker to the right. Gardner, your squad will lay suppression fire from this position. Sheldon's squad has the bunker's right flank. Weston's squad, when the shooting starts, make your way to the fountain on the double-quick. Once there, secure it and then protect it. Jackson's squad shares your objective. Sheridan, your men will be with me. Once the flankers are in position, we'll head straight for the damned thing. Got it?"
The squad leaders and I acknowledged the orders and, even though they probably had heard them, relayed the orders to our men.
The Captain then looked to the wounded Smith, who was still grunting and groaning about his shredded palms.
"Jackson, your squad will take Smith to the fountain."
Jackson, a five-foot seven black man nodded his head with a sigh. I didn't blame him. Smith was only going to slow his squad down. I was glad my squad didn't have to keep him.
"Ready? On my mark," the Captain said, holding a fist into the air.
At this gesture, Mills' squad filed into a v-shaped formation to the left, Sheldon's squad doing the same to the right side of the Captain. Gardner and his men moved into crouched firing positions, rifles ready to assault the front of the bunker. From this distance, I doubted the fire would be of any help, but it'd at least keep the flanking squads from having to deal with too much enemy fire. Jackson nodded to me and I took the meaning behind his gesture. His squad filed in behind Mills', my squad and me filing in behind Sheldon and his men.
The Captain looked at the readied squads and opened his fist, mouthing the word, "Go."
At that, Gardner's squad filled the air between them and the bunker with a steady stream of lead, the sounds from their rifles filling the silence of night. Mills and Sheldon both began in a dead run in their respective directions, Jackson and me falling in behind them. The two flanking squads were running full speed, their rifles at eye level, scanning every direction, looking for the enemy. A moment later, the suppression fire stopped.
That didn't really bother the flankers though. When the bunker was beside us, Sheldon as his men darted to the right, charging the right side of the small fortification and jumping through the window. I imagined Mills' squad had done the same thing, almost at the same time. Jackson and his men joined mine and we made a dead run for the fountain, which was left utterly defenseless.
One thing struck me as odd as we neared the fountain. I heard no gunfire from inside the fortification. That made me feel a bit uneasy, because I was fully expecting to hear the exchange of gunfire. I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the fountain. The men and I spread ourselves around the right side of the circular structure, Jackson and his squad taking the left side. After a minute or so of scanning, we saw no immediate threats and formed a perimeter, a rifle pointed in every feasible direction.
Still, no gunfire came from the bunker. I kept my eye on it as I was facing it anyway, as was Jackson, who was directly beside me. Instead, Sheldon, Mills, and the men they were directing filed out of the bunker and surrounded it, forming a perimeter as we had around the fountain. From the trees in the distance came the rest of the men, Gardner and Sheridan's squads, as well as the Captain. They were walking and scanning, the Captain not even bothering to raise his weapon.
The Captain yelled to no one in particular, "I think they've gotten the hell out of Dodge."
It looked that way to me too. No resistance for such a prized research facility? Something was up, and I didn't like it.
The Captain then yelled, "Jackson, Weston. Lead your squads around the building. Make sure everything's clear up. Sheridan, clear down. Mills, Sheldon. Clear left and right. Gardner, take the bunker and anything inside. Might be some nice mementos in there."
Jackson and I took our squad around the wide building, not finding a single piece of resistance. It was rather disheartening, actually.
When we returned, Sergeant Gardner was talking to the Captain. I told my squad to return to the fountain and I headed towards Gardner.
"Something wrong," I asked, holding my rifle to my chest, muzzle facing the ground to the side of my left foot.
Gardner nodded and answered me in his nasally voice. "Yeah, there certainly is. The bunker's full of .50 cal machine guns, RPGs, mortars, the works. And it's all there, in working order. We can use it, if need be. Don't look like we have a need though, does it?"
I shook my head. "Everything's clear up. Not a damned thing around that building. I'll bet on the odds of not a damned thing being in the building either."
Gardner shrugged. "Weird, eh? Just kinda up and left, didn't they?"
The Captain grunted and we turned our attention towards him. He was a stocky fellow, about my own height -roughly six-two- but much older. Probably approaching mid-forties.
"No sense in trying to guess why they're not here. They aren't, and that makes our job easier. They might be in that building though, so we've got to clear that too."
I nodded. "I'm game, sir."
Gardner nodded. "Me too."
"Gardner, you stay in that bunker. Set up the machine guns and have them pointing from every hole. We'll keep this position until further orders arrive."
Gardner saluted and turned on his heel, already barking orders to his men inside the bunker.
The Captain watched as he walked off and then turned his eyes to me. "Think Jackson'll be up to it too?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Want me to get him?"
"Go ahead. I'm going to see if Sheldon and Mills are apt to join you."
"Will do, sir," I replied, giving a curt salute. Don't really know why. The Captain never returned them.
I made my way back to the fountain, where Jackson, his men, and all of my men save Sanchez were sitting on the outer lip of the stonework. Jackson looked up at me.
"Something new?"
"Cap'n wants us to clear that building," I replied, pointing towards the structure behind the fountain.
Jackson looked over his shoulder nonchalantly, grunting a not so surprised "alright."
"That, and something odd with the bunker." I added.
He turned his attention back to me. "Yeah?"
"It's stock full of supplies, completely usable. The guys manning it ran off and ran off fast. Odd."
"Yeah," Jackson repeated, not really caring. "So," he began, looking around at the men, "you guys ready to clear out that building?"
"Yeah, I'm bored." It was Sanchez. The other men grunted their approval and stood up almost in unison.
Sheldon and Mills were sashaying towards us. I assumed the Captain had convinced them to join us.
Mills grunted as he passed me and started to talk with Jackson. I would've been able to pay attention, but Sheldon caught my attention.
"We got suckered into joining you guys. How do you wanna do this, since you're so 'game?'"
I shot him a look of dissaproval before I turned around to the men.
"Alright, I guess I better figure out a plan."
"Might help," Mills said, not bothering to look my way.
"Jackson and I will take the second floor. I'm assuming that's where most of the computer networks will be. My PDA has a SPYder linkup module, so I'll be able to tap into and send all of their network data to one of our satellites. I'll take east wing, Jackson can take west. Sheldon and Mills, clear out the first floor."
They nodded their approval and the squads reformed.
It was a very short jog to the front doors of the building, which were electronic. A few rifle-butt hits later and those were taken care of. The front lobby had nearly twenty metal detectors, all of which were off. As a matter of fact, I think most if not all of the power was gone from the building. That might hinder my data extraction...
Sheldon and Mills split their squads and started the clearing procedure. Jackson split from me and took the stairway at the left of the lobby. I lead my squad up the right set of stairs.
The building it self seemed rather normal for a research facility. The second floor was nothing but offices and server rooms. Thankfully, the power to the second floor hadn't been cut. None of the computers had been tampered with either, making my job extremely easy.
We went from room to room, kicking in the locked doors and quickly moving from one corner of the rooms to the other, never encountering anything but dust and hot computer terminals. It seemed like whoever had been in this building had left it a while ago.
After confirming that the east wing was secure, and that I had stolen and sent all the information on the network, we met back up with Jackson's group in the lobby. Sheldon and Mills' squads were there too.
Jackson nodded to me. "They found something. Might be that weapon."
"And?"
"You'll see. Alright, Mills, let's go see that thing."
Mills nodded and lead the way, the squads breaking to form a mismatched gaggle of soldiers acting more like kids who were waiting in line at the freak show. In a way, that's what we were.
Mills lead us through a long, gray hallway, nothing on either wall save metal plating. I assumed this must be lab area. All of the pipes, computer terminals, electronic doors, and ventilations shafts gave it away.
When Mills arrived at the large, steel double doors at the end of the hallway, he punched in a few numbers and the doors slid out of the way. What I saw inside was nothing short of amazing.
The room itself was a large tank, a glass dome covering a pool roughly the length of three football fields and as wide as an entire city block. No wonder the building was so damned wide looking on the outside.
Under the glass dome was a rather unpleasant looking brown mass of...some substance. I wasn't even going to begin to try to recognize it. This brown mass looked like it was making a tight fit inside of the dome, so I gathered that whatever this thing was, it was not small, and probably as deadly as rumored, if not more so.
I looked to Mills. "Any idea what it is?"
"Not a damn thing. I have a feeling we're not supposed to know. Intel probably already does. Ya know how it goes, Weston. Soldiers aren't supposed to know any of the details. They're just supposed to do what they're told."
"I know, I've heard that line quite a few times."
"I bet you have," he responded curtly. "That sidearm must get you a lot of flak."
I shrugged. "Not as much as it could. No one seems to notice."
"Or care. There's a war on."
"True. Think we should plant some C4 in here and get rid of this thing. In that line of thought, do we even have enough to cover this thing?"
Mills shrugged. He stood on tiptoe to look over me and at the men milling about the entrance to the tank. "Lemme ask my demo man. Hey, Barnes. Over here."
A stout but short man made his way over. "Yeah, Sarge?"
"How much C4 do you have in that pack of yours?"
"About twenty pounds. Why?"
"Think that'd blow this tank up?"
"If you can find me the oxygen tanks, which I'm sure are in a lab like this, I can take the whole building out."
The sergeant nodded towards his underling, scratching at his chin. "Would that take care of our rather large problem under that glass dome?"
"Anything inside the building will be obliterated, sir."
"Good deal, Barnes. Take Murphy and Stevens and find those oxygen tanks. If you can't find any, report back to me and we'll figure something out."
The demolition expert saluted and jogged back towards the men.
I turned to Mills. "If they can't find any tanks?"
"We'll blow this room and whatever happens, happens."
"Sounds fair," I said, nodding.
A few minutes later, Barnes returned with a smile on his face. Mills guessed the men had found the tanks.
"Find the tanks, Barnes?"
"'Tanks', sir, is an understatement. We're talking wall-sized silos of oxygen. We tested a pump to make sure. Charges are planted, they'll go off whenever we tell them too. Might have to be a ways away."
"Will that little field we landed on be far enough away?"
"Probably..." Barnes replied, scratching at the back of his head.
"Well," Mills said, turning to me, "want to get out of here?"
I nodded. "Might as well. Mission is over once we blow the building."
Mills nodded in return, waving his arm in a circular motion. "Ok men, let's get out of here. Time to complete this mission."
Audible cheers were heard as the men gathered into a large line. Mills and I took the lead and led the men outside into the plaza.
The Captain, who had been at the bunker, jogged to us. Mills and I saluted, but the Captain didn't return it. "How about it, boys?"
"C4 is planted, ready to take out the weapon."
"Good."
I added, "We'll need to get into our landing field so that we're safe from the blast."
The Captain nodded. "Gardner and his men should be safe in the bunker."
Mills shrugged. "I don't know, sir."
"Find out."
Mills called for Barnes, who quickly stepped up and saluted towards all of us. "Yes, sir?"
"Will the men inside the bunker be safe when the blast occurs?"
Barnes looked the structure over a few seconds before answering. "I believe so, sir, yes."
Mills waved him away. "Good, thanks."
Barnes saluted us once more, only Mills and I returning it.
The Captain grunted and nodded towards the landing area. "Double-time it over there, gentlemen. I'm going to inform Gardner and I will be with you momentarily."
Mills and I saluted in unison and led our squads to the landing spot, Jackson and Sheldon's squads following.
Once in the field, Jackson hailed me.
"Yes?" I asked, walking up to him.
"After this it's home, right?"
I laughed. "If you call that aircraft carrier home, then yes, probably."
"Good. I need to call my wife. She's due any day now."
"You'll be able to call her," I said, with a smile.
A few moments later, the Captain and a few stray men entered the field. Mills gave Barnes the ok. A second later, the sky was filled with light and a shockwave shook our innards.
After it was all said and done, there was a large crater where the building had once been, debris littering the plaza. A few fires dotted the debris field. I supposed this was as good a landing beacon for our EVAC as anything.
The Captain jogged towards the bunker and entered it, chatting with Gardner. The rest of the men, including myself, milled around a bit, talking about nothing and calming our tensed muscles from the mission we had just completed.
Or so we thought.
It first started as a rumble. Then it was a loud shrieking. After that...it appeared, as large as a city block...flying in the air.
When I first saw it, it reminded me of a large humpback whale. But as it turned its large head, I could see millions of eyes rolling around in its flesh, like the eyes of a spider. They weren't compound eyes, but separate organs all moving in different directions. The skin tone was brown, a deep dark brown that could've been black had the creature not been lit from its innards by some soft white light.
To say I was scared was an understatement. I was petrified. I literally could not move. Neither could anyone else. Even when this large, insect/whale hybrid flying thing started to glow a bright white. Even as it opened its mouth and even after the bunker was turned to dust, Captain and Gardner's squad with it, we couldn't move.
But when it started to lower itself towards us, our feet found the power to move, and we ran. Ran as fast as we could. There was no such thing as "fighting back." Fighting back was impossible. We all knew that.
This weapon, whatever the hell it was, was something a few soldiers could not handle. Hell, an army probably couldn't go up against it. As I was running through the landing field, I reflected that the Chinese had abandoned it quite possibly because they had built something they couldn't control. Now, it was after me...and what was left of my fellow soldiers.
I could hear its balls of energy hitting the ground and some of the men running behind me. I personally didn't care. I just wanted to survive. When I hit the wall face-first though, I knew survival was out of the question. In front of me were what remained of the Delta Force soldiers that had started the mission: Mills, Sheldon, Jackson, Sanchez, Barnes, and the wounded Smithe. They were formed in the v-shaped attack pattern, rifles raised to their shoulders. I imagined that Smithe was having quite the trouble aiming the damned thing with burnt palms. Still, the men looked courageous enough. All at once, they started firing at the behemoth in the sky. I simply watched as a large white ball of energy crashed into them, their bodies becoming mere dust in the air. I was surprised the blast didn't kill me as well, but I honestly didn't worry about staying alive. I, Sergeant Charles Weston, was about to die.
"God save those who have to face this weapon..." I whispered, and raised my rifle. I fired and fired, dwindling my magazine down to probably about two or three rounds.
But the creature did not shoot one of its balls of energy at me. Instead, it floated on, lower and lower until I could clearly see the lines, wrinkles, and pores of its underbelly. And I could smell it. Not very pleasant. I fired one last shot into its belly and it stopped dead in its track.
Had I hit a nerve? Some secret weak point? No. I hadn't. I hadn't single handedly saved the world with one shot. No. Instead, its belly...opened...as in a hole appeared. Imagine the shutter on a camera slowly opening to snap a shot. That'd about explain it. A moment later, a sickening smell filled the air and I started to see things around me being sucked up into the creature.
"Oh, great," I exclaimed, "you're a fucking Hoover, too!"
No response. Hadn't expected one.
As I felt my hair beginning to pull, I laughed at the thought of going out this way. Being snorted up by some bio-engineered monster weapon and becoming its first meal. Well, let me check that. I was its second. San Francisco had been its first, probably.
At I lifted off of the ground, feeling as if my body was about to rip apart at the waist, I knew then I was dead. Dying, dead, same thing. And let me tell you something. Whoever said that your life passes before your eyes when you're dying was full of shit. Want to know what I saw? That goddamned picture of my skinnier, younger, greener self snapped by that Army photographer in Columbia.
And then, as they say, it all went black. Or white. I can't remember.
A/N - Yeah, it's a rewrite. An overdue one, in my opinion. Yes, Chapter 21 is on its way. Might take a bit longer. It'll be here before Christmas, I'm sure. Email or IM me if you wanna beta or just chat or something. Yeah. Well, hope this is better than what I had. I'll probably get around to rewriting the first few chapters (probably 2-12) after I've finished this. Not many more chapters to go.
Thanks as usual to the lovely Shad for betaing this thing.
Muchos of love to Arty-chan for helping me with Chapter 21, which should be realized soon ^_^;;
Thanks to all the readers, old and new alike.
~No 0ne
The thumping of the helicopter's rotor seemed all too distant to me. I could smell nothing but the musky odor of the dark paint I had smeared all over my face. In my hand was the M4 assault rifle, a staple of almost every military branch in the United States. The gun was so light I could've used two at once, one on each arm. Uncle Sam liked his protocol and procedures though...as well as his wallet. To keep accuracy at a maximum and cost at a minimum, soldiers were told what they'd be outfitted with, to hell with their personal preferences.
"You do what you're told, soldier. That's it."
That line had been spouted millions of times in Basic Training. I do what I'm told, and that's all. And it was true. Sergeant Charles Weston did what he was told, yes he did. The fiasco in Columbia had gotten Sergeant Charles Weston demoted, yes it had. But the Army needs its special ops guys, yes it does. So Sergeant Charles Weston was taken off "tater duty" and put on one of the first helicopters to Hong Kong after San Francisco disappeared under the morning fog. Sergeant Charles Weston had to take the fight to the new enemy, an enemy Sergeant Charles Weston knew would be the death of him.
But Sergeant Charles Weston does what he's told, so when he got his orders to mobilize with the 1st United States Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta...or simply, Delta Force...Sergeant Charles Weston mobilized.
And now I'm here, riding in a bumpy Black Hawk helicopter, a rather old model, with twenty-four other men. A large group for a SpecOps mission, for sure. I had a feeling our lovely Captain would inform us of the true nature of the mission when we landed.
The red "ready" light shone into the darkness, highlighting the men I'd be fighting with. Most looked rather battle-hardened, but then again, that might've been from the bumpy, stomach-churning ride. The jump door was opened and the dense urban jungle that was China's largest city blurred under us like a multi-colored ocean.
I stole my eyes off of the eye-numbing scenery and checked my weapon. I released the magazine from its catch and made sure the shells inside were properly aligned. I didn't want a jam if a firefight broke out. Satisfied, I slammed the magazine home, the clicking sound echoing in the cabin of the helicopter. Not one of the soldiers jumped. Good sign.
I then checked my rucksack, which was slung on my belly. Most of the other guys had it on their backs, but I didn't like the seventy pounds hanging off of my back. Besides, no one seemed to care and always having it at the ready was useful. The only problem would be lack of stealth. If I had to sneak around, I'd just leave the blasted thing somewhere. If I go into stealth mode, all I need is my silenced USP Tactical -which is not standard issue but a gun paid for by my meager salary- and an eight-inch blade.
Speaking of my USP, I pulled the lightweight forty-five caliber pistol from my thigh holster and checked its action. The action was very fluid, so I took a magazine from my utility belt and slammed it home. Again, no one in the helicopter flinched. Very good sign. I thumped the safety latch upwards and returned the beautiful weapon to its home. I snapped the grip-strip over the handle and made sure it was secure.
"You must really love that gun, Weston."
I looked up. The Captain was smiling at me in almost a fatherly way.
A bit embarrassed, I responded meekly, "I'd make love to it if I could, sir."
This roused a few laughs from the men.
"I bet you would, Sergeant."
And with that, the silence returned, accompanied only by the thumping rotor.
As I sat back against the metal wall behind me, I closed my eyes and immediately saw the snapshot the Army reporter assigned to my Columbian mission had taken right when I had learned my entire squad was being demoted and shipped off to Fort Bragg with potato peelers and a truckload of shame. But of course it was the squad's fault. Yeah...even though it had been our Sergeant's curiosity which had eventually left an entire sweatshop, thought to be a cocaine plant, rotting. The squad was only following orders from a ranking officer. Yeah, but he gets promoted and I get the boot. Now that is justice. Justice the American way. I love it.
I opened my mouth and leaned forward, eyes squinted. I had a feeling I was mimicking that photo shown in every newspaper ever printed to a "t." Damn I really hated my country some times. Even if I was serving it at that time...I could still hate it. And I did.
But that was beside the point, but not because I was worried about this mission. No, I knew this mission would end in disaster. What I was worried about was the rappelling part of the mission. You see, they hadn't bothered to train me in rappelling from a helicopter. I had a feeling they hadn't trained any of the other new Delta Force members in the Black Hawk with me. As the green "go" light illuminated our dirty faces, I wondered what the other men were thinking.
The rappelling was relatively easy. My hands didn't think so, though. Good thing I had hastily put my gloves on. Otherwise, I'd be a very malfunctioning soldier. Friction burn from a twenty-gauge rope is nothing to laugh at, kids. No siree.
Some poor fellow named Smithe wasn't so lucky. Two seconds into the operation and we were already down a man. Just great. The area we had landed in was a large grassy patch hidden by a few trees, a concrete plain with a large fountain directly on the other side. Behind that fountain was a wide, but not tall, glass and steel structure that could only be Ung-So Incorporated's building. Ung-So, for your information, was China's largest biotechnological research facility. I could only see the top of this building
But, of course, I could imagine the hastily prepared fortification that looked like it was made of mud. More than likely, it was made of some sort of high-tech plastic polymer that could be sprayed into molds and mass- produced. When this polymer dried, it was as hard as twenty-inch thick lead. The Army had its own version of this ready-made fort. That meant one well-placed bunker-buster could take care of it. Unfortunately, we didn't have air support. Even though I couldn't see it, satellite photos in our briefing papers had shown it very clearly a few feet from the fountain.
The three men that made up the squad I was supposed to lead formed a nice little ring-around-the-rosy circle around me.
"Who are you guys," I asked. Sure, I should've gotten to know them from the Squad assignment sheet in the briefing pack and the short list of accomplishments that detailed each man's career...but this was put together very fast. And from the looks of the other squads, introductions were the order of the day. Apparently, none of the other leaders had had the time to look over the details. This made me feel a little bit better.
The large black man standing directly in front of me saluted and said as quickly as possible, "Alonzo Thompson, sir!"
I nodded in response and turned my attention the short, tanned man beside him.
He responded to the nod in a heavy Spanish accent. "Javier Sanchez, sir!"
His lack of salute didn't bother me. The last guy, a rather stout Italian fellow picked up the trend and didn't even wait for my eyes to meet with his. He snapped a salute and yelled, loud enough to interrupt the other squad leaders in their routine. "Anthony Bergman, ready to serve, sir!"
"Good. Let's huddle around the Captain and get the gritty details."
I turned on my heel and walked the few feet to the Captain, my men following obediently.
Soon, the rest of the squads joined the huddle and the Captain began to lay out the details.
"Ok, men, here's the deal. We're here to gather intel on some new form of weapon the Chinese are supposed to be developing at Ung-So. Word has it that this new weapon, if activated, could be more destructive than nuclear weapons could ever dream of being. That, gentlemen, is not easy on the heart. Speculation out of Army Intelligence says it was this same weapon that turned San Francisco into a large crater in the span of less than thirty minutes. You saw the news broadcasts. Nothing was left but dust and ruins. If this weapon is here, we're going to find a way to destroy it before it has a chance to destroy our country and others.
"Now, we've got six four-man squads. Squad leaders are Mills, Gardner, Sheldon, Weston, Jackson, and Sheridan. Mills' squad will flank the bunker to the right. Gardner, your squad will lay suppression fire from this position. Sheldon's squad has the bunker's right flank. Weston's squad, when the shooting starts, make your way to the fountain on the double-quick. Once there, secure it and then protect it. Jackson's squad shares your objective. Sheridan, your men will be with me. Once the flankers are in position, we'll head straight for the damned thing. Got it?"
The squad leaders and I acknowledged the orders and, even though they probably had heard them, relayed the orders to our men.
The Captain then looked to the wounded Smith, who was still grunting and groaning about his shredded palms.
"Jackson, your squad will take Smith to the fountain."
Jackson, a five-foot seven black man nodded his head with a sigh. I didn't blame him. Smith was only going to slow his squad down. I was glad my squad didn't have to keep him.
"Ready? On my mark," the Captain said, holding a fist into the air.
At this gesture, Mills' squad filed into a v-shaped formation to the left, Sheldon's squad doing the same to the right side of the Captain. Gardner and his men moved into crouched firing positions, rifles ready to assault the front of the bunker. From this distance, I doubted the fire would be of any help, but it'd at least keep the flanking squads from having to deal with too much enemy fire. Jackson nodded to me and I took the meaning behind his gesture. His squad filed in behind Mills', my squad and me filing in behind Sheldon and his men.
The Captain looked at the readied squads and opened his fist, mouthing the word, "Go."
At that, Gardner's squad filled the air between them and the bunker with a steady stream of lead, the sounds from their rifles filling the silence of night. Mills and Sheldon both began in a dead run in their respective directions, Jackson and me falling in behind them. The two flanking squads were running full speed, their rifles at eye level, scanning every direction, looking for the enemy. A moment later, the suppression fire stopped.
That didn't really bother the flankers though. When the bunker was beside us, Sheldon as his men darted to the right, charging the right side of the small fortification and jumping through the window. I imagined Mills' squad had done the same thing, almost at the same time. Jackson and his men joined mine and we made a dead run for the fountain, which was left utterly defenseless.
One thing struck me as odd as we neared the fountain. I heard no gunfire from inside the fortification. That made me feel a bit uneasy, because I was fully expecting to hear the exchange of gunfire. I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the fountain. The men and I spread ourselves around the right side of the circular structure, Jackson and his squad taking the left side. After a minute or so of scanning, we saw no immediate threats and formed a perimeter, a rifle pointed in every feasible direction.
Still, no gunfire came from the bunker. I kept my eye on it as I was facing it anyway, as was Jackson, who was directly beside me. Instead, Sheldon, Mills, and the men they were directing filed out of the bunker and surrounded it, forming a perimeter as we had around the fountain. From the trees in the distance came the rest of the men, Gardner and Sheridan's squads, as well as the Captain. They were walking and scanning, the Captain not even bothering to raise his weapon.
The Captain yelled to no one in particular, "I think they've gotten the hell out of Dodge."
It looked that way to me too. No resistance for such a prized research facility? Something was up, and I didn't like it.
The Captain then yelled, "Jackson, Weston. Lead your squads around the building. Make sure everything's clear up. Sheridan, clear down. Mills, Sheldon. Clear left and right. Gardner, take the bunker and anything inside. Might be some nice mementos in there."
Jackson and I took our squad around the wide building, not finding a single piece of resistance. It was rather disheartening, actually.
When we returned, Sergeant Gardner was talking to the Captain. I told my squad to return to the fountain and I headed towards Gardner.
"Something wrong," I asked, holding my rifle to my chest, muzzle facing the ground to the side of my left foot.
Gardner nodded and answered me in his nasally voice. "Yeah, there certainly is. The bunker's full of .50 cal machine guns, RPGs, mortars, the works. And it's all there, in working order. We can use it, if need be. Don't look like we have a need though, does it?"
I shook my head. "Everything's clear up. Not a damned thing around that building. I'll bet on the odds of not a damned thing being in the building either."
Gardner shrugged. "Weird, eh? Just kinda up and left, didn't they?"
The Captain grunted and we turned our attention towards him. He was a stocky fellow, about my own height -roughly six-two- but much older. Probably approaching mid-forties.
"No sense in trying to guess why they're not here. They aren't, and that makes our job easier. They might be in that building though, so we've got to clear that too."
I nodded. "I'm game, sir."
Gardner nodded. "Me too."
"Gardner, you stay in that bunker. Set up the machine guns and have them pointing from every hole. We'll keep this position until further orders arrive."
Gardner saluted and turned on his heel, already barking orders to his men inside the bunker.
The Captain watched as he walked off and then turned his eyes to me. "Think Jackson'll be up to it too?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Want me to get him?"
"Go ahead. I'm going to see if Sheldon and Mills are apt to join you."
"Will do, sir," I replied, giving a curt salute. Don't really know why. The Captain never returned them.
I made my way back to the fountain, where Jackson, his men, and all of my men save Sanchez were sitting on the outer lip of the stonework. Jackson looked up at me.
"Something new?"
"Cap'n wants us to clear that building," I replied, pointing towards the structure behind the fountain.
Jackson looked over his shoulder nonchalantly, grunting a not so surprised "alright."
"That, and something odd with the bunker." I added.
He turned his attention back to me. "Yeah?"
"It's stock full of supplies, completely usable. The guys manning it ran off and ran off fast. Odd."
"Yeah," Jackson repeated, not really caring. "So," he began, looking around at the men, "you guys ready to clear out that building?"
"Yeah, I'm bored." It was Sanchez. The other men grunted their approval and stood up almost in unison.
Sheldon and Mills were sashaying towards us. I assumed the Captain had convinced them to join us.
Mills grunted as he passed me and started to talk with Jackson. I would've been able to pay attention, but Sheldon caught my attention.
"We got suckered into joining you guys. How do you wanna do this, since you're so 'game?'"
I shot him a look of dissaproval before I turned around to the men.
"Alright, I guess I better figure out a plan."
"Might help," Mills said, not bothering to look my way.
"Jackson and I will take the second floor. I'm assuming that's where most of the computer networks will be. My PDA has a SPYder linkup module, so I'll be able to tap into and send all of their network data to one of our satellites. I'll take east wing, Jackson can take west. Sheldon and Mills, clear out the first floor."
They nodded their approval and the squads reformed.
It was a very short jog to the front doors of the building, which were electronic. A few rifle-butt hits later and those were taken care of. The front lobby had nearly twenty metal detectors, all of which were off. As a matter of fact, I think most if not all of the power was gone from the building. That might hinder my data extraction...
Sheldon and Mills split their squads and started the clearing procedure. Jackson split from me and took the stairway at the left of the lobby. I lead my squad up the right set of stairs.
The building it self seemed rather normal for a research facility. The second floor was nothing but offices and server rooms. Thankfully, the power to the second floor hadn't been cut. None of the computers had been tampered with either, making my job extremely easy.
We went from room to room, kicking in the locked doors and quickly moving from one corner of the rooms to the other, never encountering anything but dust and hot computer terminals. It seemed like whoever had been in this building had left it a while ago.
After confirming that the east wing was secure, and that I had stolen and sent all the information on the network, we met back up with Jackson's group in the lobby. Sheldon and Mills' squads were there too.
Jackson nodded to me. "They found something. Might be that weapon."
"And?"
"You'll see. Alright, Mills, let's go see that thing."
Mills nodded and lead the way, the squads breaking to form a mismatched gaggle of soldiers acting more like kids who were waiting in line at the freak show. In a way, that's what we were.
Mills lead us through a long, gray hallway, nothing on either wall save metal plating. I assumed this must be lab area. All of the pipes, computer terminals, electronic doors, and ventilations shafts gave it away.
When Mills arrived at the large, steel double doors at the end of the hallway, he punched in a few numbers and the doors slid out of the way. What I saw inside was nothing short of amazing.
The room itself was a large tank, a glass dome covering a pool roughly the length of three football fields and as wide as an entire city block. No wonder the building was so damned wide looking on the outside.
Under the glass dome was a rather unpleasant looking brown mass of...some substance. I wasn't even going to begin to try to recognize it. This brown mass looked like it was making a tight fit inside of the dome, so I gathered that whatever this thing was, it was not small, and probably as deadly as rumored, if not more so.
I looked to Mills. "Any idea what it is?"
"Not a damn thing. I have a feeling we're not supposed to know. Intel probably already does. Ya know how it goes, Weston. Soldiers aren't supposed to know any of the details. They're just supposed to do what they're told."
"I know, I've heard that line quite a few times."
"I bet you have," he responded curtly. "That sidearm must get you a lot of flak."
I shrugged. "Not as much as it could. No one seems to notice."
"Or care. There's a war on."
"True. Think we should plant some C4 in here and get rid of this thing. In that line of thought, do we even have enough to cover this thing?"
Mills shrugged. He stood on tiptoe to look over me and at the men milling about the entrance to the tank. "Lemme ask my demo man. Hey, Barnes. Over here."
A stout but short man made his way over. "Yeah, Sarge?"
"How much C4 do you have in that pack of yours?"
"About twenty pounds. Why?"
"Think that'd blow this tank up?"
"If you can find me the oxygen tanks, which I'm sure are in a lab like this, I can take the whole building out."
The sergeant nodded towards his underling, scratching at his chin. "Would that take care of our rather large problem under that glass dome?"
"Anything inside the building will be obliterated, sir."
"Good deal, Barnes. Take Murphy and Stevens and find those oxygen tanks. If you can't find any, report back to me and we'll figure something out."
The demolition expert saluted and jogged back towards the men.
I turned to Mills. "If they can't find any tanks?"
"We'll blow this room and whatever happens, happens."
"Sounds fair," I said, nodding.
A few minutes later, Barnes returned with a smile on his face. Mills guessed the men had found the tanks.
"Find the tanks, Barnes?"
"'Tanks', sir, is an understatement. We're talking wall-sized silos of oxygen. We tested a pump to make sure. Charges are planted, they'll go off whenever we tell them too. Might have to be a ways away."
"Will that little field we landed on be far enough away?"
"Probably..." Barnes replied, scratching at the back of his head.
"Well," Mills said, turning to me, "want to get out of here?"
I nodded. "Might as well. Mission is over once we blow the building."
Mills nodded in return, waving his arm in a circular motion. "Ok men, let's get out of here. Time to complete this mission."
Audible cheers were heard as the men gathered into a large line. Mills and I took the lead and led the men outside into the plaza.
The Captain, who had been at the bunker, jogged to us. Mills and I saluted, but the Captain didn't return it. "How about it, boys?"
"C4 is planted, ready to take out the weapon."
"Good."
I added, "We'll need to get into our landing field so that we're safe from the blast."
The Captain nodded. "Gardner and his men should be safe in the bunker."
Mills shrugged. "I don't know, sir."
"Find out."
Mills called for Barnes, who quickly stepped up and saluted towards all of us. "Yes, sir?"
"Will the men inside the bunker be safe when the blast occurs?"
Barnes looked the structure over a few seconds before answering. "I believe so, sir, yes."
Mills waved him away. "Good, thanks."
Barnes saluted us once more, only Mills and I returning it.
The Captain grunted and nodded towards the landing area. "Double-time it over there, gentlemen. I'm going to inform Gardner and I will be with you momentarily."
Mills and I saluted in unison and led our squads to the landing spot, Jackson and Sheldon's squads following.
Once in the field, Jackson hailed me.
"Yes?" I asked, walking up to him.
"After this it's home, right?"
I laughed. "If you call that aircraft carrier home, then yes, probably."
"Good. I need to call my wife. She's due any day now."
"You'll be able to call her," I said, with a smile.
A few moments later, the Captain and a few stray men entered the field. Mills gave Barnes the ok. A second later, the sky was filled with light and a shockwave shook our innards.
After it was all said and done, there was a large crater where the building had once been, debris littering the plaza. A few fires dotted the debris field. I supposed this was as good a landing beacon for our EVAC as anything.
The Captain jogged towards the bunker and entered it, chatting with Gardner. The rest of the men, including myself, milled around a bit, talking about nothing and calming our tensed muscles from the mission we had just completed.
Or so we thought.
It first started as a rumble. Then it was a loud shrieking. After that...it appeared, as large as a city block...flying in the air.
When I first saw it, it reminded me of a large humpback whale. But as it turned its large head, I could see millions of eyes rolling around in its flesh, like the eyes of a spider. They weren't compound eyes, but separate organs all moving in different directions. The skin tone was brown, a deep dark brown that could've been black had the creature not been lit from its innards by some soft white light.
To say I was scared was an understatement. I was petrified. I literally could not move. Neither could anyone else. Even when this large, insect/whale hybrid flying thing started to glow a bright white. Even as it opened its mouth and even after the bunker was turned to dust, Captain and Gardner's squad with it, we couldn't move.
But when it started to lower itself towards us, our feet found the power to move, and we ran. Ran as fast as we could. There was no such thing as "fighting back." Fighting back was impossible. We all knew that.
This weapon, whatever the hell it was, was something a few soldiers could not handle. Hell, an army probably couldn't go up against it. As I was running through the landing field, I reflected that the Chinese had abandoned it quite possibly because they had built something they couldn't control. Now, it was after me...and what was left of my fellow soldiers.
I could hear its balls of energy hitting the ground and some of the men running behind me. I personally didn't care. I just wanted to survive. When I hit the wall face-first though, I knew survival was out of the question. In front of me were what remained of the Delta Force soldiers that had started the mission: Mills, Sheldon, Jackson, Sanchez, Barnes, and the wounded Smithe. They were formed in the v-shaped attack pattern, rifles raised to their shoulders. I imagined that Smithe was having quite the trouble aiming the damned thing with burnt palms. Still, the men looked courageous enough. All at once, they started firing at the behemoth in the sky. I simply watched as a large white ball of energy crashed into them, their bodies becoming mere dust in the air. I was surprised the blast didn't kill me as well, but I honestly didn't worry about staying alive. I, Sergeant Charles Weston, was about to die.
"God save those who have to face this weapon..." I whispered, and raised my rifle. I fired and fired, dwindling my magazine down to probably about two or three rounds.
But the creature did not shoot one of its balls of energy at me. Instead, it floated on, lower and lower until I could clearly see the lines, wrinkles, and pores of its underbelly. And I could smell it. Not very pleasant. I fired one last shot into its belly and it stopped dead in its track.
Had I hit a nerve? Some secret weak point? No. I hadn't. I hadn't single handedly saved the world with one shot. No. Instead, its belly...opened...as in a hole appeared. Imagine the shutter on a camera slowly opening to snap a shot. That'd about explain it. A moment later, a sickening smell filled the air and I started to see things around me being sucked up into the creature.
"Oh, great," I exclaimed, "you're a fucking Hoover, too!"
No response. Hadn't expected one.
As I felt my hair beginning to pull, I laughed at the thought of going out this way. Being snorted up by some bio-engineered monster weapon and becoming its first meal. Well, let me check that. I was its second. San Francisco had been its first, probably.
At I lifted off of the ground, feeling as if my body was about to rip apart at the waist, I knew then I was dead. Dying, dead, same thing. And let me tell you something. Whoever said that your life passes before your eyes when you're dying was full of shit. Want to know what I saw? That goddamned picture of my skinnier, younger, greener self snapped by that Army photographer in Columbia.
And then, as they say, it all went black. Or white. I can't remember.
A/N - Yeah, it's a rewrite. An overdue one, in my opinion. Yes, Chapter 21 is on its way. Might take a bit longer. It'll be here before Christmas, I'm sure. Email or IM me if you wanna beta or just chat or something. Yeah. Well, hope this is better than what I had. I'll probably get around to rewriting the first few chapters (probably 2-12) after I've finished this. Not many more chapters to go.
Thanks as usual to the lovely Shad for betaing this thing.
Muchos of love to Arty-chan for helping me with Chapter 21, which should be realized soon ^_^;;
Thanks to all the readers, old and new alike.
~No 0ne