Matvei Zakharov shook his head, dust and debris spread out like pollen. “Should we not get out of here Sir?”
Yuri Andropov had also survived the impact and was about to say something when the metal cone started to flash a bright shade of lavender that rapidly progressed to an alarming red that illuminated the whole room.
Suddenly the very tip of the cone shattered violently sending shrapnel across the room. Yuri was covered with a warm liquid. He reached up and wiped his face with his hand, he looked down at the thick red-tinged fluid that glowed on his fingertips.
The room was coated in the substance which caused the area to glow menacingly. Zakharov pulled Brezhnev to his feet, they needed to get out of there. They turned to Andropov, “Get out of here Yuri… Yuri?”
The two men looked at their comrade who was stood deathly still, staring into his palms. Without warning he let out a quiet groaning sound, he began to shake and the groaning got louder.
“What’s wrong Yuri?” Brezhnev said but his voice sounded funny, he went to hold his throat but to his horror, he could not feel his hand or his throat. He looked down at his hand which had started to wrinkle rapidly.
Brezhnev looked over to Andropov who was shaking uncontrollably, he hands had turned black. He grasped one hand with the other but they just mashed up into a form of horrific goo that was a similar consistency to melted tar.
One of the men let out a brief squeal before his tongue turned into the same goo, it bubbled and ran from his mouth in a slow-moving tide. Everyone who was left alive in the room was having the same reaction to the liquid.
Andropov began to melt away on the spot as his whole body turned to the black tar until all that remained of him was a thick black puddle with a suit and stained bones mixed in with it.
Zakharov fiddled desperately with the pistol on his belt but his hands would not work, one turned black and washed away across the legs of his pants. He finally managed to get the pistol loose and push it to his temple, the gun fired but it felt like the bullet was flying through treacle and it longed halfway into his head; that side of his face quickly melted away.
There was nothing that Brezhnev could do but look on in horror. He tried to run from the room but he legs slowly stopped working, he felt the briefest sensation of burning pain before his body forcefully exploded; sending black tar and bone in all directions.
In less than five minutes everybody who was present in the room was dead.
Not one step back
The midday sun was beating down onto the battlefield, the area was covered in a thick layer of black smoke as the scorched hulls of burning Patton tanks littered the area. The remnants of army group one had taken shelter in the town.
The American forces had taken shelter in the houses and had set up a defensive perimeter. The antiaircraft Gatling guns had been firing almost none stop for the last ten minutes. The Aryan’s had free rein in the skies since routing the Phantoms earlier.
“Sir, with all due respect we need to get out of here while we still can.” A young private said.
“He’s right Sir, we only have a handful of tanks left and our forces are less than half strength. If we don’t leave now, then we will be encircled and we will all be slaughtered.” The Sergeant spat on the floor, “Those bastards don’t take prisoners.”
Sergeant Major Wills had heard enough; he had unwillingly been thrust into command after the morning’s leadership cast had been decimated.
He got onto the battle net radio, “This is Sergeant Major Wills, I know the situation we are in is direr and some of you want to retreat. I don’t blame you, that would be the smart option; live to fight another day…”
“But the thing is if we run now then there probably won’t be another day. The scums forces would have an unopposed run on Washington. Our capital is not ready to defend herself yet. We need to give her the best chance to repel these bastards…” Wills paused again, “We need to stand and fight here, I would rather the enemy shoot me in the face then in the back, I am going to fight for my countries very existence and I am going to do it here!”
Every man let out a cheer that was barely drowned out by another explosion in the background.
“I am glad you boys agree with me, my final order then. Not one step back!” Wills clicked the radio off.
“That was some speech Sir, This is sergeant Peters of the artillery unit, we have decided to stay and give you some cover. What are the coordinates?”
“Nice to have you!” Wills said, “Danger close, fire on the leading edge of the town, I don’t have my map fellas but don’t fire any further into the town than that until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tiger I tanks approaching the town from the North and Southern edges.” Reported a light tank commander.
Moments later the distant crack of fire washed across the fields. A few seconds later the telltale whistle of artillery shells filled the air. The ground around the advancing Tiger’s erupted as mounds of dirt and shrapnel flew into the air.
A steady stream of high explosive shells continued to fall on the Aryan tanks, one was hit dead on and exploded instantly with a force so strong that the turret was blown clean off. Another was grazed on its side which caused the right-hand track to break; the vehicle started to move on circles until the commander realized the problem.
A line of Me 262 fighters roared in for a strafing run. The M163 Vulcan Gatling cannons opened fire again, spraying a stream of lead into the air. The leading Me 262 was already in attack position and either could not or would not abort the attack. He was hit straight on, the nose crumpled immediately as the rounds tore further into the aircraft; eventually, the pilot was hit and the fighter span out of control until it smashed into the ground.
The rest of the squadron was quick to avenge their fallen comrade, the swooped in fast and low with their cannons blazing. The bright purple rounds impacted all around as the area was completely sprayed; two Vulcan anti aircraft vehicles were set ablaze while a third was knocked out of action.
The Tiger’s continued to advance through the hail of artillery shells, they fired on the move with unnerving accuracy. A group of Americans on machine guns were vaporized in a purple hew.
Private Martinez was sweating profusely but he held his nerve as a second tank rolled passed his concealed position. The young Private steadied his shaking hands and aimed his anti tank launcher, he counted two more seconds in his head and then fired; the self-propelled grenades raced outwards and struck the exposed rear of the tank.
A large hole had been cut in the rear of the Tiger and smoke started to pour from it. The Commander’s cupola flew open but it was too late as the rocket detonated inside and the crew was engulfed in flames.
Private Martinez let out a sigh of relief and then turned to relocate. The third Tiger in the column had noticed his firing position though and had lined up his gun. He fired and the bright purple orb flew into Martinez’s hiding place; it detonated causing the young man to fly through the air. His charred body landed eight foot down the road.
The desperate battle continued to rage within Parkersburg, the Americans were fighting in every street, within every house. The Tiger I’s were inside the town now where the artillery was unable to target them safely.
A group of Patton tanks burst from their hiding positions inside the houses, they stopped and aimed at the vulnerable side armor of the Tiger’s; they all fired one after the other. The first round bounced, the second knocked off a track. The third hit the turret mechanism and stopped it from turning.
The Patton’s now fired on the move, they hit another Tiger square in the side and must have hit its ammunition rack as the tank went up in bright flames. The Tiger’s turned and returned fire. A bright orb penetrated an advancing Patton, the vehicle stopped as smoke poured from every nook and cranny.