“This is bullshit,” Scrawny said. There was no trace of laughter in his voice, no evidence of the quaking, nearly hysterical manic glee in his eyes. Turner figured the trooper wasn’t infected with anything other than a reasonable dose of fear.
“Put. It. Down,” Boats said.
Footfalls sounded behind Turner, and he heard the noises of several weapons being raised and shouldered.
“What do we have here?” Master Sergeant Zhu asked.
“Take it easy,” Turner said. “Everyone be cool.” He looked at Scrawny, who still had his rifle trained on him. “Son, we are from the One-Five-Five, and we are not infected. We pulled out of Boston when the city fell. We’re here to see what we can do to help out the division and to check on our families.”
“How can I be sure about that?”
Turner almost laughed then thought better of it. “Given the position you’re in, I think it’s best to trust us.”
The soldier sighed and finally lowered his weapon. “Oh, fuck it.”
Boats stepped back, still holding his shotgun on the man. “That’s better.”
“Where the rest of the cav?” Turner asked. “Did they get deployed to the other combat teams?”
“Part of the unit was sent out,” Scrawny said. “The rest of it was part of the push to keep the crazies out of Drum. Thing is, they were already inside when we figured out we were under attack.”
“What do you mean?” Boats asked.
“Guys from Boston and New York turned after they got back. We were already fighting them on the inside when Watertown became Looneytown, and all those suckers headed up here, looking for a fight.”
Turner nodded. It made sense. “And why are you here?”
“Someone had to stay behind to guard the motor pool. There were three of us, but the other two cut out. They had girlfriends in Watertown.”
“What about our dependents?” Zhu asked, moving closer.
“Gone. Most of them were sent to Philly. There was a big National Guard presence there out of Indiantown Gap. The city was supposed to be clean, so the brass decided to send all noncombatants on post property there. That was almost two weeks ago.”
Philadelphia… If that was true, then Turner’s family and the families of hundreds of other lightfighters were well outside the battalion’s combat radius. But in a way, the news was liberating. They would be free to maneuver with all fires while trying to extract the personnel trapped in Hays Hall.
Turner told Zhu. “I need an RTO to relay that to Wizard Five.” He turned back to Scrawny. “Name and rank?”
“Corporal Wallinsky, Alpha Troop, First of the Seventy-First Cavalry, Sergeant Major.”
“Wallinsky, are there any TOW missiles left around here?”
Wallinsky smiled. “Hell yes, Sergeant Major. Hell, yes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN.
“Wanna check our work, sir?” Muldoon asked.
Lee walked up to the two M939 trucks the element had secured in the 10th Sustainment Brigade’s motor pool. Corpses had been tied to the front of each vehicle and battered with crow bars to give the trucks a look that roughly approximated the modes of transportation the Klowns seemed to favor—bloody urban chariots. It had been grisly, heinous work, and Lee doubted he would ever feel clean again, even after a dozen scalding-hot showers.
But each truck also had some welcome additions: four Claymore mines attached to their bed side rails, two on each side. The convex-shaped mines were directional weapons loaded with C4 high-explosives that propelled a series of seven hundred steel pellets outward in a sixty degree arc, like a shotgun blast on steroids. The mines were positioned roughly five and half feet off the ground, and their effective kill radius of fifty meters promised to turn dozens of Klowns into just so much human garbage if they got close enough.
Which, of course, they would. Lee was counting on that. Once the crazies got inside the effective range, the mines would be command detonated from inside the truck cabs. It would be a wholesale slaughter, and any left standing would be dealt with by the troops.
The Klowns wouldn’t be expecting that.
“Looks good,” Lee told Muldoon as the rest of the troops drew near. “Everyone clear on how we’re going to handle this?”
“We roll up on the Klowns, laughing our asses off, and get deep inside their lines. Then we go crazy on the crazies,” Muldoon said. “Pretty simple, except there’s about twenty-five of us and about two thousand of them.”
Lee smiled. “Have some faith, Muldoon.”
Muldoon shook his head. “Faith isn’t a very good tactical solution.”
“That’s not so,” Rawlings said, stepping up to stand next to Lee. “We have surprise and an entire battalion staging nearby. You don’t have faith in your battalion, Sergeant?”
Muldoon glowered at her. “Lady, you really need to start getting a handle on this water-walker attitude you like to shop around.”
Rawlings was undeterred. “Have faith, Muldoon.”
“I have faith that the meek will not be inheriting the Earth. How’s that?”
Lee made a cutting motion with his hand. “Stow the bullshit, both of you. Is everyone clear on what’s expected, here? We go in laughing, get as close to the center of their formation as possible, and then we start cleaning house. On our command, Thunder hits them at the same time, and battalion comes in from the north. We pin the Klowns to the south, evac the headquarters troops, and pull the fuck out. Questions?”
“How long do you think we have, sir?” Nutter asked. “I mean, we’re going to need battalion to close on us mighty quick.”
“I figure we’ve got fifteen minutes,” Lee said. “Stay cool, and do what you do best: kill those giggling fuckers.”
The element gave a collective hooah, which Lee accepted with a nod. He motioned toward the trucks.
“Mount up.”
TWENTY-EIGHT.
“Wizard, this is Six. Over.”
“Six, this is Wizard. Go ahead. Over,” Walker said.
Walker sat in the command Humvee, which had moved forward with the rest of the battalion to stage at the intersection of Tigris Valley River Road and Korengal Valley Boulevard. They were just over half a mile from the divisional command building, Hays Hall.
Bodies were strewn everywhere, and destroyed vehicles and parts of vehicles littered the landscape. Buildings were aflame, casting flickering shadows that danced across the terrain. The firelight reduced the effectiveness of their night vision goggles, but Walker was convinced the lightfighters still had the fighting edge. The din of combat was everywhere, and while he couldn’t see the front lines, Sergeant Major Turner’s element had been able to identify the forward line of troops.
Hays Hall was surrounded by shipping containers and truck trailers that essentially formed a physical wall around the brick building. Defenders manned battlements overlooking hastily built funnel zones and choke points, areas that forced the enemy to bunch up and form easily engaged targets. Turner’s report had been backed up by video surveillance from the Raven aerial reconnaissance platforms, which showed that thousands of Klowns had already been killed. But Hays Hall seemed to be defended by far less than two hundred troops, maybe not even a hundred, and the enemy was able to dictate the tempo of combat. The siege was coming to an end, as it appeared that the defenders were simply running out of ammunition.
“Wizard, contact Mountaineer. Advise them that we’re about to join the party. They’re to orient as many fires to the south as they can and avoid engaging enemy formations to the east the north. We’ll hit the enemy on those flanks. Over.”