World War Viterra Part 2

Part 2 of World War Viterra. Focuses on the Battle of Winnipeg and the group of soldiers fighting and defending the city from the advancing Russian forces. Warning: Foul language, Mature content

World War Viterra Part 2

Battle of Winnipeg

 

 

Russian Aggression

 

 

Situated on the Portage Avenue overpass looking down on the six lane Route 90 highway that headed north/south was a force of Canadian and American soldiers, numbering a few hundred strong. Accompanied with them were a dozen American M1 tanks and half that number of Canadian Leopard tanks. Supporting them were several score of lightly armored vehicles such as Humvees, LAVs and armored troop carriers. Sandbags were placed against the northern side of the east/west Portage Avenue to support machine guns and the soldiers’ own guns. Below the overpass was a pile of wrecked vehicles, courtesy of the tanks, as well as various other heavy objects to act as a road block, ensuring that any enemy force coming south down Route 90 towards the overpass would have to circle around it. Along the highway heading south toward the roadblock were placed mines, tank traps, snipers as well as small groups of heavily armed soldiers whose sole purpose was to destroy enemy armour. Behind the overpass were several skyscrapers where more snipers lay in wait of the oncoming enemy. Overhead flew dozens of attack helicopters such as the quick and nimble Cobras and the destructive Apaches. Surveillance drones high above kept a close eye on enemy movements.

RJ yawned and struggled to keep his eyes open. “We’ve been sitting here for hours. Are those Russians coming or what?” He could hear the fighting further north: the artillery explosions, the crackle of automatic fire, the brrrrt of American A-10s peppering the enemy with their rapid-fire 30mm cannons, and occasionally see some Blackhawk helicopters returning from the battle carrying wounded soldiers but no action came down Route 90.

“You should be thankful they aren’t,” voiced Corporal Tanning, RJ’s superior officer. “That means our boys are holding them back. You don’t want them to come any further south.”

“I wouldn’t mind if they just turned the corner at least, so I could shoot one or two.”

A few other soldiers felt the same way and agreed. The corporal only shook his head. The less action he saw, the better. He was only a corporal and wasn’t in charge of the overpass defense�"that was left to an American lieutenant�"and wasn’t overly gratified for his position of power. A corporal was little more than a private yet here he was commanding his own platoon of men and women. The lack of more experienced men in the Canadian military was due to the heavy action in the west and the battles in the Middle-East. With so few high-ranking officials to go around most were situated at the areas of greatest need, such as Winnipeg’s airport, where the battle already waged. He was due for a promotion but with Manitoba’s capital under invasion he had been sent forth without an official statement.

His lack of a higher rank made some his men disobedient and reckless. Luckily for him, the American lieutenant standing nearby made sure the men of both nations’ armies were paying attention to the situation around them and not fooling around.

An explosion burst in midair as a missile collided with an Apache helicopter on its way to the front. The helicopter spun about in circles before slamming into the ground in a fiery ball of destruction. The crash was only half a kilometer away, where the highway took a right turn and was hidden from view behind an expansive Safeway store.

The enemy was close.

“Stand ready, men!” the lieutenant shouted. “Reports are coming in that the Russians are on the move. They intend to surround the airport and keep us out of it. In order for them to do that they have to pass through us first. Let’s not let that happen!”

At once, the soldiers shouldered their weapons and settled in to their positions, their gazes north toward the bend in the road. Attack helicopters swarmed ahead, some already firing missiles while on the move and others spraying the road beyond with thousands of bullets, their casings littering the ground and some even falling on the heads of the defenders atop the overpass.

“Jesus f**k!” Courtney screamed as a hot shell casing fell into the top of her uniform. “It’s in my f*****g bra! For Christ’s sake!” With a bit of wiggling and patting about she managed to dislodge the casing and calm down but not before attracting the eyes of all the male soldiers around her.

“Next time just take your top off,” RJ suggested. “It’ll be easier that way.”

She replied with a middle finger.

Vince looked up above into the sky where only a few clouds sailed lazily across the blue canvas. He hoped that the Russians hadn’t snuck any bombers over their heads or their overpass defense would be dealt with rather quickly. He saw nothing other than a few Blackhawks coming back from the battle. He fixed his gaze on the road and readjusted his rifle’s position, knowing that he may just need to use it all too soon.

Randy double-checked the ammunition belt of the 50 caliber machine gun he had in his hands, ensuring that it was not snagged on anything and that it would flow smoothly when he used the weapon. He glanced to his right where Eric was crouched, his assault rifle resting neatly atop one of the sandbags. His childhood friend gave him a nod and a smile, a wordless promise that they would get through this together.

Krista steadied her breathing. She had never been in anything remotely similar to what she was about to get into and despite her physical wellness she had yet to mentally prepare herself for what was to come, as many other soldiers around her were doing. Beside her, Steve was silent, his hands clutching his rifle tightly and his eyes firmly on the road ahead. Steph was calm and almost seemed excited, his trigger finger twitching eagerly. Glen was breathing heavily, not accustomed to this type of combat. He had been in many fist fights but his fists and his strength were insignificant when missiles and bullets came into play. He remembered his training and kept his rifle steady.

Junior, to Vince’s left, looked through his assault rifle’s sights, searching for an enemy. He chewed on a gum, his nicotine cravings spiking as the excitement built, but kept his focus on the situation at hand. He had quit smoking before basic training and would not start now, not when his mind had to be fully immersed in the upcoming battle and not whether he had time to puff on a cigarette.

A large chunk of the apartment building across the bend in the road suddenly broke apart and crumbled to the ground. Seconds later another chunk of it was blasted off.

“High explosive shells,” Vine muttered to himself. The Russian tanks were targeting the snipers in the building. The enemy was so very close now.

A third blast hit the building and as attack helicopters circled the air, raining destruction on the enemy, the enemy fired back with missiles and anti-aircraft guns, the latter’s tracer rounds streaking the sky. Fire rose from the Safeway store and two helicopters fell as two missiles flew up to meet them. The tanks above the overpass slowly turned their turrets toward the commotion and fired a few rounds into the clouds of dust and smoke. The sound of their cannons firing shook the ground and made the soldiers nearby grateful they were using hearing protection.

A fireball streaked through the sky and the defenders watched in horror as an A-10 broke apart into smaller pieces as the flames surrounding it increased in size. Everyone hoped the pilot had bailed in time. Not a minute later a second A-10 plummeted and crashed nose-first into the ground, its wings littered with holes.

“Goddamned Warthogs should have never been used here,” an American soldier was saying to others nearby. “They were great in Iraq but we were fighting goat fuckers with guns. These damned Russians are better equipped and they have the means to take the A-10s down. Those pilots never stood a chance.”

“Do the Russians have the air?” Eric asked the man, who was standing behind him.

“Not as far as I know,” the soldier replied. “Our F-22s still outmatch whatever they have but our air support might be cut short a bit. No one is going to risk any more choppers and Warthogs if the Russians just shoot them all down.”

“Stand ready!” the lieutenant shouted again. “Artillery strike inbound at Danger Close! Heads down and shield your eyes!”

“Danger close?” Randy asked Vince as he lowered his head and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Within 600 yards,” Vince replied, remembering the expression from an HBO series he had watched over a year ago. “Shrapnel could travel far enough to hit us.”

“Why didn’t they shoot before they got so close?”

Vince shrugged. “Maybe there were too many of our men there.”

Randy’s face paled slightly as the implications of that statement hit him. With no opposing force before them, other than he and the other defenders, the Russians had a clear path to the overpass.

The explosions were loud and constant as an artillery barrage, sent from artillery cannons in a base further south, was sent into the Russian forces just beyond the Safeway store, still out of sight. The tanks above the overpass blindly shot a few shells into the fray as well, hoping to score a hit on something. Bits of concrete flew hundreds of feet into the air and trimmed bushes and trees soared high above. A bicycle flew high into the sky and landed on one of the tanks above the overpass. Half of a Volkswagen Beetle tumbled from the sky and rolled along the highway for a few meters before exploding into thousands of pieces as it hit a roadside mine.

After several minutes of bombardment the artillery strike ended and a whole pack of Apaches and Cobras swooped in to finish the job. Soldiers cheered them on as they watched the helicopters close in on the wreckage of the Safeway store and huge clouds of dust and smoke. Those cheers ended quickly when a heavy barrage of anti-aircraft guns lit the air and pelted into the sides and fronts of the attack helicopters. Several fell but most managed to get through and let loose their missiles and machines guns. The anti-aircraft barrage was fierce and their attack didn’t last for long. When the defenders on the overpass watched the choppers, some heavily damaged, return from their brief attack they knew that their time had come.

Shots could be heard from far behind them as the snipers in the skyscrapers to the south opened fire. The tanks shot their main cannons once more, this time with precision and motive. The dust was settling and shapes could be seen moving beyond it. Shots came back at them this time and that was when the lieutenant ordered the attack to commence.

Everyone opened fire.

Gunners above Humvees and tanks sprayed their 50 caliber bullets into the clouds of dust and smoke. LAVs aimed their turrets at the dark shapes and riddled them with shells. Soldiers behind the line at the edge of the highway loaded mortar rounds and watched the explosions they left behind after the rounds soared over the heads of the defenders, hoping to find body parts amongst them. The long line of soldiers with their weapons resting on the sandbags fired round after round after round into the approaching Russian lines, which were now emerging from the dust and smoke. Russian T-90 tanks led the charge, firing their cannons at the Allied tanks atop the overpass. The Allied tanks, those that survived the shots, fired back. Tanks fell out of commission on both sides but the advance hardly slowed. RPG rounds were fired into the Russian lines as well but were soon answered with Russian RPGs which slammed into the tanks and other vehicles or damaged the overpass’s integrity, blowing chunks out of its sides and support pillars.

 As the Russian forces continued to advance, their focus on the overpass, a wave of American Marines in M1 tanks rolled in from either side, hidden behind residential buildings and strategically placed obstacles. They closed in like the jaws of a mighty predator, firing rounds after rounds into the sides of the Russian file. Off to the northeast of the overpass was a ten-story office building and from inside and above it men with RPGs and heavy machine guns rained destruction upon the advancing enemy. Mortar engineers atop the overpass aimed their rounds to land directly in the middle of the advancing line of Russians. The explosions they left behind sent advancing troops scattering and severely damaged lightly armored transport vehicles. Mines went off, sending Russian soldiers flying and heavily damaging transports and blasting the tracks off of the heavy tanks. Concrete barricades blocked the tanks from advancing until they simply fired a round from their main cannon and turned the barricade into rubble which could easily be passed over. Despite the heavy and intense fire the Russians continued to advance. The jaws closed tight and the flanking M1 tanks fired countless rounds into the enemy line yet it seemed for nothing.

The lieutenant in charge of the overpass defense looked on anxiously. He could not let the enemy advance past his line. He had to do something quickly. He radioed the tank drivers on the ground near the Russian lines and ordered a retreat. After some protest they eventually obeyed and as he saw the tanks turn their chassis, all the while keeping their turrets on the enemy, he radioed the artillery groups for another strike. The Russians were slightly more than a hundred yards from the overpass and soldiers overhearing his orders eyed him in shock and disbelief.

“Artillery strike inbound!” he called out to his men and women defending the overpass. “We’ll stop these Russians yet!”

Steph, meanwhile, was scoring hit after hit and loving it. He fired his standard issue C7A2 rifle using its automatic fire setting and was picking out gunners and RPG carriers with near ease. The crowded highway made it easy for him to hit something but no matter how many Russians he shot down the line continued to move forward. At one point he tossed a grenade and though it killed three Russian soldiers there were three more to take their place. He reloaded his gun and continued firing. He would not give up. Every shot count.

RJ cracked some sunflower seeds in his mouth as he shot at the approaching enemy. He shot in short bursts, aiming at drivers behind troop transports. He watched the windshields splinter into spider web designs and laughed as the drivers struggled to regain control. Sometimes his bullets never pierced the drivers but it was enjoyable for him to watch the vehicles sway off course and sometimes slam into the side of another vehicle, run over their own men, pass over a mine or crash into an obstacle, sometimes slowing the advance of those behind them. He spat out the shells and chewed on the tasty seeds, looking for another transport to blind.

Krista fired into the mass of Russian men and vehicles but closed her eyes. She had never killed anyone in her life and wasn’t certain she could watch herself do it. She felt cowardly for doing so and after a time she forced herself to keep her eyes open. She watched as a soldier fell to one knee after she shot one of them off. He was crying out in pain and gripping his ruined knee with both hands. The soldiers behind him seemed not to care and kept marching. Behind him came an armored transport with a shattered windshield that did not appear to see him. She gulped down her uneasiness and fired a few more rounds into the injured soldier, killing him quickly and sparing him the agony of being crushed underneath a several ton vehicle.

Courtney couldn’t get herself to fire her rifle. She knew the enemy was in front of her and knew that they would treat her with no mercy if they reached her but she was a gentle soul at heart and couldn’t bring herself to end a life. She fired a burst and shut her eyes tightly. The gun’s recoil sent her barrel aiming up into the sky, her shots far and wide, and she received an angry shout from the American lieutenant. He ordered her to control her fire before she shot her own allies. She nodded back to him, her face pale and sweaty, and focused on the battle ahead, her trigger finger trembling.

Vince was looking through his assault rifle’s scope and picking out targets he thought were of value. He aimed for RPG carriers, officers, and snipers hiding behind debris or abandoned civilian vehicles. His rifle was accurate but was not designed for long-distance shots and some of his more ambitious shots fell short. He was determined, however, and kept trying. His heart was racing throughout it all, especially when enemy return fire hit the sandbag below him or the guard rail just ahead of him.

Steve fired ahead without aiming in one continuous burst, never letting his finger off the trigger, hoping his shots hit something. His clip soon emptied and he reloaded his rifle with another. He did the same again, holding his rifle as steady as he could as the recoil shook his arms significantly. On his third clip his rifle overheated and the bullets jammed inside the barrel. He kept pressing the trigger but the bullets would not fire. His assault rifle was damaged and unusable. He called for another and the American lieutenant himself gave him another, sternly telling him to calm the hell down and fire in short bursts or he’d be removed from the front line.

Glen focused on firing in short bursts as he had been trained to do. He chose his targets carefully and did his best to hit them. Having never really used any firearms before basic training he was unaccustomed to the weapon but he gave it a good effort and was pleased when he saw enemy soldiers falling from injury or death. He kept a calm head throughout it all, something he was surprised he could do as during any conflict he was usually seeing red and unleashing all of his fury. It was not long after that he reverted to old ways when a stray enemy bullet popped the sandbag just to the left of his face and a spurt of sand landed in his eyes. He rubbed the sand from his eyes and cried out in fury when he returned fire, emptying his clip quickly. He reloaded his rifle and, with teeth clenched tightly, fired several bursts into the approaching enemy soldiers. He saw the face of one Russian soldier and it reminded him of someone he had utterly despised in his past and emptied an entire clip into that one man. When the barrage ended the man was little more than a ripped and torn chunk of meat.

Junior fixed a grenade launcher to his rifle and had great enjoyment with it. He titled his weapon upward at an angle and fired his one round. The grenade soared in a wide arc and exploded in the middle of a line of marching soldiers, killing two and injuring five more. Junior nodded in satisfaction and loaded another grenade. He aimed at an armoured troop transport and let it fly. It exploded into the vehicle’s side and blasted a huge hole through its armour. He noticed soldiers beside him aiming their shots into the hole he had created and smiled. Teamwork.

Eric held a cool head during the assault. He looked through his rifle’s scope and picked out his targets carefully, focusing on the leading line. It composed mostly of tanks but shadowing them were soldiers hoping to use them as cover. Eric waited until one of them poked his head from behind the tank to have a look ahead before giving him an eyeful of bullets. He saw the left shoulder of a soldier walking behind a tank and fired at it, scoring a hit and making the soldier stumble back into view, where he finished the job. A bullet screamed by his ear and he felt the rush of air from its passing but Eric didn’t budge. He saw a soldier go to one knee in the middle of the highway and shoulder an RPG. Eric shot his leg out from under him and caused the soldier to swing away and fall on his side, accidentally pressing the RPG’s trigger and sending the rocket-propelled grenade into the back of one of his own tanks, disabling it. Eric laughed at the gratuitous friendly fire before filling the injured soldier with a few more rounds to end his struggles.

Randy swung his heavy machine gun from side to side, spraying the Russian line with a shower of bullets that were nearly six inches in length. They bounced off tank armour but made holes in the lighter vehicles and completely obliterated the insides of the Russian soldiers. He covered a wide swath of land and wasn’t entirely certain if he was scoring all that many hits but he kept seeing Russian soldiers falling and that was a good enough sign for him. Beside him, the ammo belt slid into the gun without stop and came out the other side as spent shell casings. Before long he had depleted the entire belt and had to reload. The Russians kept coming.

Once they were within a hundred yards the Russians upped the tempo of their attack and a hail of bullets shot forth toward the defenders, forcing many of them to take cover behind the sandbags. Not all of them did so in time. An RPG round exploded into the side of the sandbag barrier and blasted a massive hole in the side of the overpass. Allied soldiers tumbled through the opening and were fired upon as they fell. They were all dead before they ever hit the ground.

The heavy Russian assault did not last long as the artillery strike finally arrived. Massive explosions sent Russian men and equipment flying, creating huge craters in the pavement and ground. Tanks and vehicles were destroyed by the dozens and soldiers died by the scores. The barrage went on for many minutes and some of the rounds came dangerously close to striking the top of the overpass, showering the defenders with clumps of dirt and debris. Sensing a lull in the enemy barrage the Allies resumed their attack and added their own bullets and tank shells with the artillery shells that were striking the ground ahead of them. When it finally ended all that remained were massive clouds of dust and smoke.

When that all cleared Route 90 was littered with destroyed tanks and vehicles and hundreds of Russian corpses. Craters pocketed the ground in such number it was as if the defenders were staring at the surface of the Moon. Fires burned from within vehicles and some poor soldiers, trapped inside, had survived the artillery strike only to burn alive. Even so, it was war and they were the enemy.

“No prisoners,” the lieutenant stated to everyone. “Kill them all!”

A fresh assault began, this time on injured, wounded or nearly dead Russian soldiers trying to escape. Some popped up behind wrecked vehicles waving a white cloth of surrender, their hands bare and weaponless.

They were shot dead.

The remaining tanks atop the overpass fired their mains into the shells of vehicles that just might remain operational. They had very few targets to choose from.

The thick black smoke emanating from the craters and destroyed vehicles was heavy and choking. A gust of wind swept it into the overpass, forcing the defenders to shield their eyes and cover their mouths. Some soldiers wrapped bandanas around their mouths, resembling Old West bandits, while others flipped down goggles or sunglasses over their eyes.

As the firing died down into nothingness the lieutenant walked up to the edge of the overpass and had a triumphant look around. He had stopped the advance. The Russian attempt at surrounding the airport had been foiled by his military genius. Knowing that somewhere in a nearby enemy base a Russian officer was ripping hair out of his head after hearing of his encirclement’s failure gave him great joy. He’d surely get a medal for this.

He picked up his radio and called back to base to tell them the good news. All he received was static in response. He tried again but received no answer. The top hatch of a nearby M1 tank flipped open and the tank’s radio operator notified him that communication had been shut down. He couldn’t get a hold of anyone.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened at the horrible news. He immediately knew what that meant. As if on cue he heard, faintly, the sound of massive engines high in the sky. He grabbed his binoculars and looked up. His heart fell into his gut and his spine chilled solid.

“Russian bombers!” he yelled. “Abandon the overpass! Everyone fall back! Fall back!”

Even as the defenders mobilized and rushed to abandon their post they could hear the whistles of multiple bombs falling from the sky. The communication breakdown had given the bombers enough time to pierce the American air superiority shield and drop their payloads on the overpass and other defenses.

The plant crew followed Corporal Tanning into several Coyote troop transports as they made their way east down Portage avenue. Behind them, less than fifty yards away, bombs were already hitting the ground, creating massive explosions that quickly demolished the overpass, something they had all fought so hard to defend. Soldiers and vehicles that could not escape in time were vaporized in the bombing and some bombs fell off their mark, nearly striking the Coyotes as they sped away.

“Where to now?” Steve asked the corporal from inside one of the transports, his face white with fear and excitement. “Are we done?”

“To the base at the Forks I’m guessing,” the corporal answered, his own voice shaky and cracked. “The Assiniboine Park base is unprotected now that the Moray Street bridge is undefended. They’ll blow the bridges leading to the base and then evacuate to the Forks as well, I’m assuming.”

“So the Russians have the airport then?” Steph asked angrily. After killing so many of the fuckers it had all been for nothing.

The corporal shrugged. “For the moment it would seem…”

Steph just shook his head in disbelief.

“D-Did we lose anyone?” the corporal asked after a time.

“Not that I know,” Krista answered. “Not everyone is in here but I think I saw everyone get into the other transports.”

Corporal Tanning nodded in relief. The last thing he wanted was someone’s death on his hands. “We should be ok from now on. We saw action already so they might send us somewhere else to recover and recoup before sending us back into the fray.”

“I hope not,” Steph said. “I want payback for what they did back there.”

“We’re all a little shaken up, Steph,” Krista reasoned. “I’m sure a few days of rest would do us good.”

“F**k that. The adrenaline is still flowing and I don’t want it to stop. I’m ready to fight right now.”

Steph and his co-workers would never reach the Forks base with the others as Russian attack helicopters, using the communication breakdown to their advantage, swept in from the north and attacked the line of fleeing transports. Some exploded into flames while others were simply disabled. Amidst the chaos soldiers fled from the transports and ran south toward the Allied-held portions of the city. The Russian helicopters shot many of them down before they ever reached any cover.

Running across the Vimy Ridge Park while Russian helicopters chased soldiers about and shot them where they ran the plant crew members miraculously managed to find themselves and together hurried across the dangerous open area over a small street and burst into the shelter of a First Presbyterian Church. It was an old stone building and would provide them with decent cover as the action outside died away.

Unfortunately, they noticed that not all members of their platoon had made it. Their leader was unaccounted for and all other members were not present. Steve was also amongst the missing.

“What do we do now?” Courtney asked with a palpable note of fear in her voice.

“We stay here until things calm down out there,” Eric said. “Once the choppers are gone we’ll go back out to the highway to find Steve and the corporal and any others that survived. After that we’ll head to the Forks before more Russian troops start coming south.”

“They’ll be sending soldiers soon,” Vince said. “We won’t have much time.”

“Then we’ll have to be quick.”

“Keep it down guys,” Randy said quietly. He pointed down the length of the church where several men and women were on their knees before their benches and praying. The priest at the pulpit recited verses from the Bible. “We’re not alone here and we should leave as soon as we can before these people become a target.”

The team quieted down and took the wait as time to recover and rest. Steph kept an eye out of the window as Glen and Randy guarded the church’s front door, their weapons ready. The others sat or stood with their backs against the wall, sipped water from their canteens or paced the floor restlessly.

“Kind of weird how these people are still going to church at a time like this,” RJ said with a bewildered glance at the congregation. “F*****g ignorant bible-thumpers.”

Krista frowned. “Look at them, RJ. Does it look like they have much? Half of them are probably homeless and the other half too old to be bothered to move out of their homes. They’re praying because it’s the only thing they can do. They can’t fight and they can’t flee so they hope for the best. They pray.”

RJ shrugged, his mind hardly changed. “If they can afford to walk or drive to church they can afford to leave the city. And if not then hide somewhere, not come out in the open where they can f*****g get shot.”

Krista sighed and shook her head. “Maybe they know what’s coming for them and they just want to make sure they go to the right place when they die.”

“Whatever, I don’t really give a s**t.”

A church attendant approached them after a time and asked if they wished to join with the sermons. They politely declined and told him they would be leaving as soon as it was safe to do. He nodded and prayed they had a safe journey, leaving as quietly as he had come.

“Haven’t seen a chopper in a long time,” Steph said from the window. “If we’re going to move we should go now.”

Without wasting another second they all rose and left the church as quickly and quietly as they could, leaving the congregation under the sanctuary and protection of its Divine Lord.

 

 

Walk in a Park

 

 

When they returned to the scene of carnage they were buffeted with the scent of burning grass, trees, metal and bodies. Fires sprang up from some of the destroyed vehicles and nearby vegetation, as well as some of the corpses. The massive blackened shell of a Russian Mi-24 attack helicopter lay smoldering in the middle of the Vimy Ridge Park, its charred pilot and co-pilot still in their seats, smoking lightly. As the group spread out to find anyone they knew they soon realized that most of the corpses wore Canadian and American uniforms. It was in a morbid way a good sign that Russian ground forces had not come this way yet. Only a few feet from the sidewalk lay a Canadian soldier on his back, his eyes staring up into sky and an empty MANPAD lying on the ground next to him.

“That’s a Stinger,” Steph noted, pointing to the MANPAD. “Looks like this guy shot down that helicopter.”

RJ knelt next to soldier, who was riddled with bullet wounds and burn marks, and inspected his face. He rubbed his face and sighed deeply. “S**t man…it’s Steve.”

Steph’s eyes widened in horror. “What?!” He bent down next to RJ and had a closer look at the dead soldier’s face. He sat back and shook his head slightly, wanting to disbelieve what he was seeing but knowing that it was exactly as he saw it. “He had barely been in this fight!” Steph slammed a fist on the ground, got up, and paced about angrily. “F**k! He was too f*****g young! F**k!”

Krista moved toward him, hoping to calm him, but Glen outstretched an arm, blocking her way. “Leave him alone. Trust me. Just give him time. He’ll work it out.” As much as she wanted to help, she did as she was told and left the upset man alone.

Further off, beside a tree that was pocketed with bullet holes, Vince and Eric were knelt beside another corpse. “Here’s Corporal Tanning,” Vince called to the others. “Looks like we’re on our own from now on.”

“F*****g guy was a p***y of a leader anyway,” RJ grumbled. He was several feet away from Steve’s body and was looking away from it, having seen enough.

Courtney was sobbing lightly and trying her best not to show it. She was crouched and looking down at the ground, pretending to be interested in a scorch mark left behind by a bullet grazing the dirt.

In the distance the sound of artillery fire could be heard, coming from the northwest. It sounded as if the battle for the airport was not yet over. Faintly, the sound of helicopter blades whipping the air were heard as well, a sound that caused everyone to suddenly sweat.

“We have to get moving,” Eric said to the group when he and Vince returned to it. “We’re easy targets out here.”

“Where do we go?” Krista asked, unable to stop herself from glancing to the side where Steph was still pacing.

“The Forks,” Eric replied. “That’s where the closest base is and we’re only a few clicks from it. We should get there in an hour, maybe a little more, if we start walking now.”

“We probably shouldn’t use the major highways,” Randy suggested.

“No, we shouldn’t. We’ll use the smaller streets to get there.”

“Anyone have a map?” RJ asked.

Vince nodded. “I packed one before we left the base this morning.” He pulled it out of one of his many pockets and spread it open. He grabbed a pencil from another pocket and traced out their route. “We’re here, at Vimy Ridge Park, and from here we’ll head south down Canora street just beside us, follow it until we get to Wesminster Avenue, turn left and walk down that way until we make a left on Young and then turn right on Balmoral until it curves north and then turn right on Granite Way, cross Osborne Street and just follow Assiniboine Avenue until we reach Main Street and cross it to the base. I’ll have the map ready but I have it memorized and so does Eric so we’ll be fine.”

“It’s too bad we can’t just steal a car or something,” RJ said with a chuckle.

Courtney walked up to him, her face flushed, and smacked him across the cheek as hard as she could. “Steve lies dead not three feet from you and you’re cracking f*****g jokes! Are you really that much of an a*****e?!” She stormed off, not waiting for an answer. RJ just shook his head and grinned. That slap had f*****g hurt.

Before Courtney had too much of a head start the rest of the group followed her. Steph and RJ were the last to join.

“It feels wrong to leave him here like this,” Steph said as he eyed the corpse of his co-worker and friend. “We should bury him or something.”

“We’ve got no time, man,” RJ said, rubbing his bruised cheek. “We have to go. You hear those choppers too, don’t you? They could be friendly or they could be Russian. Do you want to stand here and find out?”

Steph sighed and nodded. “No, we have to go.” Without another word he turned around and hurried to catch up to the others. RJ glanced around the scene of the massacre one last time before running ahead towards the others.

 

****

 

To their left and to their right were two or three-story homes of various color and styles though most resembled one another. Their front yards were well-maintained and some had flower bushes, gardens, potted plants, lawn ornaments, or sidewalks bordered by shrubs or a combination of everything. Despite the occasional boom of artillery fire, crackle of automatic weapons or whoosh of passing jet aircraft in the distance it was quiet and peaceful on Canora street. A Canadian flag waved lazily in the wind as it hung from the railing of a house’s balcony. There were few vehicles to be seen, most if not all of the homeowners on this street having left the city long ago.

“It’s so creepy,” Krista said as she eyed the empty homes around her. “There isn’t a sound coming from this area. Even the birds are quiet.”

As if to dispute her claim a group of teenagers suddenly burst from one of the homes, carrying pillowcases stuffed with items and in their arms televisions and computers. They spotted the soldiers and sped away even faster, some of them abandoning the larger items to gain speed. They turned a corner and were gone from sight as quickly as they had appeared.

“F****n’ natives,” RJ said before spitting on the ground. “There’s a war going on in their own city and all they can think of doing is stealing s**t.”

“The Russians can bomb the north end all they want,” Steph said angrily. “I won’t shed a tear.”

“Guys…” Krista said sternly. “Enough…”

“What? You don’t think a native purge would make this city a better place?” RJ asked her with a smirk.

“A purge of Russian soldiers will do just fine.”

RJ nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. First thing’s first.”

They soon reached Westminster street and turned left onto it. Two blocks down the street, on their left, was a small grocery store with shattered windows. As they approached it some of them began to feel a rumble in their stomachs. It was past midday and they hadn’t eaten anything since the light breakfast they had early in the morning.

“Instead of these s****y military rations you guys want to see what we can find in there?” Glen asked.

“I could go for a nice sandwich with lots of meat,” Junior said with a lick of his lips.

“You like your c**k-meat sandwiches, eh?” RJ asked jokingly.

“Almost as much you, Jubes.”

“If those f*****g natives didn’t take everything…” Steph grumbled.

Before long they had arrived and most of the group went inside to search for food while Krista, Courtney, Vince, and Randy stood outside to guard and keep watch. It wasn’t long before the others returned with packaged sandwiches, bags of chips, bottled drinks, jerky and various other foods.

“No fruit?” Krista asked disappointingly.

“None worth eating,” Junior replied as he opened his bag of peanuts.

“Last bag in there,” RJ said as he ripped open a bag of Doritos.

“Those fuckers love their chips,” Steph said before taking a bite of his jerky.

Eric tossed Krista a bag of dried fruit and passed Vince a packaged sub before taking lead and continuing with the march. The others followed, munching as they walked.

They walked a few more blocks and were soon looking up to their left at the massive Westminster United Church with its stone walls and twin bell towers. Across the way was another small food store but this one was heavily damaged and mostly rubble.

Steph looked up at the bell towers with a nod of approval. “Those would be good sniping spots.”

“Too good,” Vince said. “It’ll be the first place the enemy would look. An RPG shot from out of range would take you out before you ever got a chance to shoot.”

“Yeah, true, that makes sense I guess.”

“You want somewhere where you can see them, they can’t see you, and where you can run and hide if you’re spotted. You’re kind of trapped up there if you’re seen. You also don’t want to be hiding somewhere obvious. Sometimes a pile of debris is better than a high tower.”

“Learned this at sniper training?” Steph asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No. Sniper training takes a long time and a lot of work. I only have basic training like the rest of you. I just read a lot…”

“Well, hopefully what you read is helpful.”

“I hope so too…”

They passed a Subway restaurant, which was obviously vacant, a pawn shop that appeared to have been vandalized and robbed, a quiet inn, an empty parking lot and then came up to an intersection with a street that made RJ chuckle.

“Ha, f****n’ Furby. Maybe there’s a hooker at the corner I can let off some steam with.”

“You’re disgusting, RJ,” Courtney said angrily. She had said little since leaving the park and hadn’t eaten anything when they had stopped at the store. Steve’s death, and undoubtedly the situation at hand, was deeply disturbing her.

To their right was an old, grey, two and a half-story house with chipping paint and a cracked front window. Sitting on the front steps was an aboriginal woman of middle age smoking a cigarette. She watched them get closer and then flicked her butt away and made her way toward them, casually slipping her blouse lower down her chest, opening her neckline and lowering her skirt which was three sizes too small.

“Hey, soldiers,” she slurred before making a pitiful excuse for a salute. She eyed the men of the group and gave them a wink. “You guys want to let Bernice make you feel good for a little while?”

“We’re kind of in the middle of a war,” Krista said sternly.

“Oh come on now, won’t take long,” she argued. “I’m sure you guys are all in need of a good massage, eh?”

The woman was of trivial attractiveness with a large, if drooping, chest and some curves on the back end as well. She was somwhat overweight but had the height to mask it decently. Her face was pockmarked and lined with a few wrinkles but she took care of her hair well enough. RJ eyed her and considered her offers. “I could go for a massage.”

“F**k off, Jubes,” Eric said in disbelief. “We have to get moving. We don’t have time for this.”

Bernice wasted no time in seizing her opportunity. She rushed to RJ’s side and stroked his arm. “Come on now, pretty boy. Bernice will make you feel better.”

RJ just laughed as she took him toward the house.

Before he got too far away a shot was fired which made Bernice scream and crouch low.

Courtney had her rifle raised and aimed at RJ. “Grow up and keep marching, RJ. We need to get to the Forks before the Russians head this way. We can’t have you f*****g every squaw we come across just so you can satisfy your needs. Get in line and get moving!”

RJ raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok Courtney. I’m coming. Don’t overreact over nothing. It wasn’t going to take long anyway.”

Courtney waited until he was back with the group before lowering her gun and moving on. The others followed closely, some of them shaking their heads at RJ and his insatiable carnal appetite.

“Later, Bernice!” he called back to her as they walked away from her frightened form. “Call me!”

They walked on, passing old brick apartment buildings, some of them with faces staring back at them through the windows. Krista signaled the people to leave and shouted at them to find somewhere safer before the Russians came down. No one left their homes.

“These people are going to die if they stay here,” she said with worry.

RJ opened his mouth to say something but a glare from Courtney and Krista silenced him. He shrugged innocently and grabbed another chip from his bag, crunching loudly.

“If we reach the Forks soon enough we might be able to let the officers know about these people,” Eric said to Krista. “They might be able to come here and evacuate them.”

Krista nodded. “That’s a good idea. All the more reason to keep moving.”

A block away to the right was the Balmoral Hall School, a school for women.

RJ received many glances and stares and he met them with a cheeky grin. “Fucked a girl from there once. She was all right.” Courtney predictably shook her head as did Krista and RJ just laughed. He finished his bag of chips and tossed it on the ground.   

Turning left, they were now on Young Street for a block and a half before turning right on to Balmoral. Once on Balmoral they encountered a group of children heading the other way. Two were on bikes and two others were running, giggling and laughing joyfully. Upon spotting the armed soldiers they stopped and stared.

“Get back to your homes,” Krista urged them. “It’s not safe here.”

The kids only stared back.

“Go!” Krista shouted.

Slowly at first, but eventually, they continued on their way, the smaller children glancing back constantly, the sight of armed soldiers something new and exciting for their eyes.

They reached a bend in the road when Vince raised his hand, calling for a halt, and eyed something in the sky. Within seconds he rushed to the side of the road, calling the others to do the same. They all followed.

“What is it?” Randy asked as he crouched beside an apartment building next to Vince. “What did you see?”

“A drone,” Vince replied loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Aren’t those on our side?” Eric asked from his nearby position.

“It saw us and turned toward us, gaining speed, as if it was coming to attack us.”

“Maybe it just wanted a closer look,” Steph suggested.

“Yeah or maybe it�"” A huge explosion, just off the side of the street, very near to where they had been before, sent pavement and concrete into the air and sent hot air rushing toward the crouching soldiers.

“F**k, you’re right,” Steph said as he shouldered his rifle and looked up into the sky. “Can’t see f**k all with these trees.” Amidst many protests, Steph ran out into the middle of the street and searched the skies for the drone.

“What is he doing?” Krista asked incredulously. “He’s going to get himself killed!”

“And why would Americans be attacking us?” Glen asked angrily.

“Friendly fire maybe?” Vince offered.

“Or it’s been hacked and hijacked,” Randy said.

Not wanting to leave him alone, Junior joined Steph on the street and aimed his rifle toward the sky, scanning it carefully.

“Can’t let the Stephs have all the fun,” Glen said as he ran to join them.

Minutes passed before they finally lowered their weapons and signaled the others to come out of hiding.

“It’s gone,” Steph noted. “Maybe it was just friendly fire and it was called off.”

“Just in case, I think we should pick up the pace,” Krista advised. “We don’t want to be here if it comes back.”

Walking quickly, they soon reached the end of Balmoral and turned right on Granite Way, the last street they’d walk on before crossing Osborne street and finishing the march on Assiniboine Avenue, to finally cross Main Street and step foot onto Forks grounds. 

As they were approaching Osborne street, which ran across their path, the sound of approaching helicopters began to fill the air, coming from the northwest. Judging by the direction of origin they thought of them as the enemy and ran ahead.

“Are they Russian?” Glen asked Vince as he ran beside him.

Vince glanced back and caught a glimpse of a dark, somewhat blocky shape with long weapon racks on either side. American Cobras were thin and Apaches were somewhat triangular when seen from the front but had shorter weapon racks. Canada had no attack helicopters and Vince was quite certain this wasn’t a search and rescue helicopter, not with weapon racks present. It was most definitely a Russian Mi-24 attack helicopter. He saw more of them further back, flying in formation. These were on a mission and Vince had a sinking feeling that he and his group were that mission.

“Absolutely Russian!” he cried. “That drone led them to us. We have to move and NOW!”

It was still too far from the Forks to run all the way there and hope to make it before the helicopters reached them so the group decided to hide in the nearby Legislative building. It was better cover than the wide park surrounding it and any of the small homes and apartment buildings in the area.

They ran as quickly as they could across the green and well-maintained grounds surrounding the long building with its cupola which was topped with a golden statue of a man bearing a torch, dubbed the Golden Boy. They were still about a hundred yards from the nearest doors when the Russian helicopters came into clear view. They immediately opened fire on the group of fleeing soldiers. Tufts of grass and brown soil shot into the air as the bullets struck the ground all around them. The barrage hardly lasted a second before several missiles came streaking across the sky from the east. The men and women on the ground caught sight of American attack helicopters, a group of three Apaches, soaring into view. The missiles downed one of the five Russian Mi-24s and the other four immediately switched their focus to the newly arrived threat. As the attack helicopters dueled in the sky above them the group reached the locked doors of the Legislative building. As they struggled with the lock a loud explosion was heard directly above them, followed by the sound of crumbling stone. Just as Steph shot through the locks with his rifle the Golden Boy statue landed on the grass fifty feet away, its body riddle with bullet holes and half of its body charred black from the explosion that knocked it down.

“Jesus Christ,” Vince said in shock before following the others inside and closing the door behind him, helping Randy and Glen block the entrance with benches and chairs and any obstacles they could find.

The helicopter duel lasted only a few minutes before both attack groups broke off from the attack and returned to their bases, both of them left with only one aircraft. The co-workers and brothers and sisters in arms huddled inside the Legislative building decided to stay the night until they were certain they were not being searched for.

Though the bullet barrage had been very brief one of the bullets managed to scrape Randy’s arm and Courtney helped him clean and dress it. They sat on the ground, their backs to the walls, and quietly passed the time cleaning their weapons, checking their pockets for any missing supplies, munching on snacks, or taking a restorative nap.

 

****

 

Marty walked up to the catwalk that spanned from the plant to the seed cleaner, on his way to get some samples, and whistled a tune he had just made up. Once he reached the top he encountered Roger working on one of the conveyor belts that ran along either side of the catwalk and greeted him.

“Oh hey, Marty,” Roger replied, struggling to loosen a stubborn bolt. “You guys plugged this conveyor good.”

“Oh well you know,” Marty started in his baritone voice, “When we do something we do it right.”

“Yeah, you fuckers,” Roger laughed.

It was late evening and the dark sky in the north was broken with bright, roughly dome-shaped flashes along the horizon, mostly centered around one point. During the day one could see Winnipeg’s skyscrapers from the catwalk and though Marty could not see them now he saw the flashes well enough and heard them too, like the sound of distant rumbling thunder. “Kind of looks like that heat lightning, eh?”

Roger turned around and watched the flashes for a while before returning to work. “Yeah, pretty freaky if you ask me. There’s a f*****g battle about thirty clicks north of us and here we are getting stupid samples and f*****g around with a busted conveyor belt. It’s f*****g retarded.”

“Yeah, well, the army needs fuel.”

“There’s millions of other places they could get fuel. If we shut down it wouldn’t hurt them that much.”

“I don’t know about that, Rog, we get a lot of traffic. Hell, there’s a line of fuel trucks coming this way right now.”

“Oh, I heard Lawrence left?”

“Yeah, he left last night. He couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So it’s just you and Roger and the new guys?”

“Yeah…don’t know how well that will work out. These new guys aren’t the brightest flashlights in the toolbox.”

“They’ll probably transfer Ryan or Paul to your crew. You guys can’t go on as you are now.”

“I don’t know. I only work here.” He tapped the small crate holding the four sample containers. “Well, I’ll catch you later, Roger.” He then went on his way to get the samples.

“Yeah, see you when you come back this way.”

As Marty grabbed his samples, amidst the sound of squeaking conveyor belts and motors turning, he could hear the rumble of artillery and bombs coming from the city. Even as he turned back the way he came and approached Roger the bombardment continued. It was followed by a series of distinct booms, louder than all the rest.

“F**k,” Roger said as Marty passed, “Someone got fucked up over there.”

“Yeah, those were loud ones.”

“Hey, Marty, aren’t you just a little worried about all this?”

Marty shrugged. “It’s a little scary, yeah, but I’m getting paid real good right now and the city hasn’t fallen yet so I’m hopeful. American soldiers are heading north every day so it’s only a matter of time before they take it away from the Russians.”

“Yeah but didn’t you hear? More Chinese landed on the west coast and some North Koreans are getting close to Portland. There’s been reports that the Chinese are heading for Churchill too. We might be fighting them soon if they’re not stopped.”

Marty gave a few moments of thought and then shrugged. “Well, if it gets bad those soldiers down there will let us know and I’ll get my a*s out of here. Until then, I’ll do what I gotta’ do and not worry over it too much.”

“Yeah…same here…” Roger struggled with the bolt for a little longer until he had had enough and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was time for a break. He got up, had one more look at the distant and constant flashes in the distance, and then worked his way down into the plant.

 

****

 

Courtney sat outside on a stone bench that protruded out from the side of a large circular fountain in the middle of the southern Legislative grounds. She leaned her side against the fountain and listened to the jets of water that came out of the sides of the fountain land in the large pool in the middle. Just a few feet in front of her was a small waterfall coming from the side of the fountain that landed into a smaller round pool at her feet. She soaked her toes in the water and listened to the calming sound of the fountain, doing her best to ignore the loud booms, bangs and ratatat of automatic fire coming from the airport region of the city. The bright flashes the explosions left behind lit the northwestern sky as bright as day at times and silhouetted the dark shapes of the skyscrapers blocking the view. She thought of her family and how she missed them and how she wished she had never joined the army. She could have easily died today and it had reawakened her and made her realize just how young and truly unaccomplished her life was. She had no child and was not married and though she had had a job it wasn’t something overly impressive. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on the sound of the fountain, hoping it would quiet her brain as well.

Before long Krista and Vince ran up to her, their faces pale even in the moonlight.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Krista asked her, her eyes wide, as she sat herself down across from Courtney on another bench. “We were looking all over for you in there. Why are you out here? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be outside?”

Courtney smiled at her and just shrugged. “It’s a beautiful night and I thought I’d sit by the fountain for a bit.”

“There could be snipers or drones around, Courtney,” Vince said, who stood behind her and surveyed the area, alert for danger. “You could be killed.”

She just shrugged. “I know. I just wanted to try and get some peace and quiet.”

“As long as they keep fighting for that airport you won’t have any of that. It’s quieter inside.”

“I guess…” She then sat straighter, as if having a thought. “What if we leave for the Forks now? Won’t the night make it harder for them to spot us?”

Krista looked to Vince, who understood such things better than she did. To her it made sense. Vince, however, shook his head. “It might but if drones or helicopters passed over us they would see us easily because of their infrared. If we use flashlights we let everyone know where we are so if we just tried to move under the light of the moon, or those explosions really, we’d be struggling more than the pilots would. They’d see us from far off and could take us down before we’d ever find anywhere to hide. Travelling at night would give the enemy the advantage, not us. At least during the day we can see where we’re going and plan an escape route.”

Courtney sighed. “I guess that’s a good reason…”

Vince put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It is a beautiful night, though, other than the explosions. If it were a better time a midnight stroll along the river would be the perfect thing to do.”

The sound of helicopter blades in the air approaching from the west stiffened their backs and chilled their blood. The sound could only be heard between the brief lulls of the constant explosions but it was a sound they knew well and it could not be mistaken for anything else.

“Come on, Courtney,” Krista said, taking the young woman’s hands in her own. “We have to get back inside.”

Reluctantly, Courtney got up and followed them back inside the building before the sound of the helicopters became too loud. They closed the door behind them and barricaded it all over again. They had set watches for the night and Vince returned to his at the southern end of the building as Krista took Courtney to her sleeping area, the Legislative Chamber, with its many benches and chairs that could be redesigned as rudimentary beds. The rest of the group slept already, the excitement of the day having drained them of all energy. When Courtney was asleep Krista returned to her watch at the northern end of the building where she looked outside the entrance windows into the darkness and kept her rifle close.

 

 

Flight to the Forks

 

 

The group was rudely awakened by Randy who came running in shouting for everyone to get up. As the others groggily woke up and rubbed sleep from their eyes, Randy, who had taken over Krista’s watch in the middle of the night, began loading the large 50 caliber machine gun he had carried with him.

“Russians!” he cried out again, in an attempt to get everyone up and moving quicker.

It worked.

At once, everyone was wide awake and reaching for their weapons.

“Where are they?” Steph asked, eager to shed enemy blood.

“Coming from the north side,” Randy said as he closed the machine gun’s loading chamber and stood up. “There’s two jeeps with machine guns, another with a grenade launcher, and about twenty soldiers. It looks like they’re just checking this place out.”

“They don’t know we’re here?” Krista asked.

“They might have just gotten word from the helicopter pilot that got away yesterday that we might be in here,” Eric suggested. “They might not know for sure, which is why they didn’t waste any bombs or missiles on us last night.”

“So it’s a reconnaissance group,” Vince noted. “Which means back-up won’t be far if we engage them.”

“We might be able to get away without them knowing we were here,” Randy said, cradling his machine gun.

“F**k that,” Steph said angrily. “I say we kill them all before they get a chance to call for help.”

“We don’t have any RPGs or anything that could take out those jeeps with one hit,” Eric reminded. “Sure Randy has his machine gun but they have at least two and a fricken grenade launcher too. We won’t be able to kill them all before help is called. Our radios still don’t work so we can’t call an airstrike either. We have to get out of here.”

Steph paced the ground and kicked a chair in anger. “I just want to avenge Steve, that’s all.”

“You’ll get your chance. Just not now.”

His face still red, Steph finally nodded in surrender. “Ok, fine, we won’t shoot them yet. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They hurried out of the Legislative Chamber and ran to the south end of the building, passing by its ornate columns, decorated walls and ceilings, shining marble floors and beautiful paintings. Before leaving the building, Glen grabbed a long pointed staff from which a Manitoban flag hung from.

“What the hell are you going to do with that?” RJ asked him as they both ran down the outside steps and across the park.

Glen shrugged. “A souvenir. Thought I could remind those Russians just who they’re messing with.”

The group passed the fountain Courtney had sat by during the night and crossed the narrow Assiniboine avenue. Several of the members exchanged curious glances.

“Why aren’t we following the street?” Glen asked Eric, who seemed to be leading the group. “Doesn’t that take us to the Forks?”

“Too dangerous, Glen,” was Eric’s reply. “We’d be spotted in no time. We’ll take the River walk and follow the river to the Forks. We shouldn’t encounter many vehicles or soldiers there.”

They soon passed a statue of Louis Riel, one of the province’s founding fathers who had fought for Metis rights and had started a rebellion, which was still to this day debated as a dishonorable act or one of great virtue. Eric gave the statue a quick salute.

“That’s my cousin up there,” he said proudly. “He fought for this province just like we are.” Beyond the statue was a series of steps, split in two by a railing that ended in a large concrete flower pot, that led down to a landing with several concrete paths leading to and from it and from there more steps that led to a concrete path that followed the length of the Assiniboine River, aptly called the River Walk.

Just as they were descending the steps bullets began to streak by their heads and chip the concrete from the ground. With a glance back they could see that the Russian reconnaissance group was hot on their tails, the soldiers firing on the run and the gunners of two of the Russian GAZ Tigr lightly armored jeeps firing their machine guns.

A bullet pierced through Steph’s leg, another scraped Vince’s neck and a third ricocheted off the ground and pelted into Glen’s back.

The group hurried to the edge of the river but before they could reach the steps that led to the River Walk the third jeep rushed in from the west, speeding down a small hill and stopping in front of them, blocking their path, its grenade launcher aimed right at them. The Russian gunner was shouting at them in his native language but they all knew he was telling them to stand down.

During the span of three seconds everyone’s minds struggled with the thought of resistance or surrender. They knew that at least twenty soldiers were rapidly approaching behind them and that any move toward the jeep ahead of them would mean a grenade blast that could kill them all. They had no experienced leader who could tell them what to do. They had to decide for themselves and amidst a group of various and differing personalities not everyone may agree with what someone else suggested.

Luckily for them, Steph made their decision easy. He fired a round into the gunner’s head and then emptied his clip through the driver’s side window of the jeep, killing the driver and the passenger before they could react. Without waiting for anyone, he climbed the top of the jeep and tossed a grenade into the open hatch. The back doors of the jeep opened up, revealing the presence of more soldiers but the grenade exploded and killed them all before any one of them could step foot outside. With the GAZ Tigr rid of its personnel, Steph commandeered the grenade launcher for himself and aimed it toward the approaching Russians. He fired a few rounds at them as they came into clear view and watched in delight as explosions sent concrete and grass into the air like geysers. Some unlucky Russians fell and never got up.

The others, not wanting to leave Steph behind, set themselves up behind the Russian jeep, concrete flower pots, or behind the concrete railing that flanked the first series of steps. As the Russian soldiers came into view at the top of the steps they opened fire, killing several. The Russians soon became aware of the situation and hid behind obstacles, firing when they could. Steph fired a few grenades from the launcher at the hiding Russians and made some of them scatter, where his brothers and sisters in arms shot them down. The situation looked hopeful for the Manitobans until the other jeeps drove down from the eastern and western paths, firing their machine guns at their positions. Steph fired a grenade from the launcher at the one approaching from the east and destroyed its motor, disabling the vehicle. From it eight soldiers charged forth, their assault rifles firing wildly. Steph climbed down from his position and hid behind the jeep as bullets pelted on its side like a vicious hailstorm.

Junior had chosen a more stealthy position behind a thick cover of bushes off to the side of the steps that led to the River Walk and had his assault rifle set to single-fire. With his eye to the gun’s scope he chose his victims carefully, firing single shots into their heads or torsos and a second shot if it was necessary. He looked to the east across the series of steps at the bushes there and saw his brother doing the same, downing targets of value amidst the chaos from a position of relative safety.

Randy was using his own strength instead of a bipod to support his machine gun and was firing it at the west, toward the rapidly approaching jeep. He had already shred the gunner to pieces, his bullets almost twice the size of the ones the gunner had been firing from his smaller machine gun. The front windshield was riddled with holes and before long the driver was dead. The jeep came to a sudden stop when it slammed into a concrete flower bed and tipped over on its side. The shaken soldiers within emerged but were set upon by Krista, Glen and RJ, their heavy barrage of bullets killing them all as they struggled to emerge.

As the standoff continued more Russian soldiers emerged from the west. Some met swift ends by the hands of Junior and Vince’s accuracy or Randy’s vicious onslaught but many reached the scene of battle and managed to find cover and avoid death.

Courtney was tending to any wounds her friends had sustained. Steph shooed her away, saying his leg was fine and that the bullet had gone straight through. She couldn’t find Vince, whom she had seen holding a hand to his bleeding neck. She did find Glen hiding behind the upturned jeep, wincing as he tried to reach behind his back at something. She hurried to his side and before he could protest lifted up the back of his uniform and had a look at the wound. Part of the bullet that had struck him earlier was sticking out and she thought she might be able to just pull it out by hand. Telling Glen to brace himself, she pinched her fingers down on the bullet and pulled quickly. It came out easily and she cleaned the flesh wound and patched it up as quickly as she could. Glen was thanking her when he, Courtney and Krista, who was positioned nearby, were suddenly beset upon by several large Russian soldiers. Glen fought back with his fists and hit one with a right cross to the jaw, dropping him cold. He knocked aside the rifle butt a second man was trying to hit him with and swung his left fist with tremendous force, knocking him out as well. A third was coming in from behind him but he bent down, turned on his feet, grabbed the staff he had dropped, and once he was facing the oncoming foe he stood up in one fluid motion and thrust the staff’s pointed end into the man’s chest. He let it go and admired his handiwork for a moment, the Manitoban flag hanging down from the protruding staff and waving gently, the shocked and dying Russian soldier still standing. But before he could turn around to engage the others he was receiving multiple blows to the head by rifle butts from the other assaulters and fell to his knees. Courtney was taken away as Krista fought back with her fists and feet, her kickboxing lessons serving her well. She swept her leg under the feet of one and as he fell kicked him in the abdomen and then slammed her heel in his throat. She elbowed one coming from behind her in the face and then grabbed him and threw him over her shoulder. She stomped his throat as well. When she looked for other enemies she saw none, and also noticed that Glen and Courtney were gone.

Junior saw it all happen and switched his gun from single-fire to automatic fire and emptied his clip into the attackers. He reloaded and fired at more soldiers coming from the west. He shot the knees out of one and littered another’s abdomen full of bullets when he saw something tumble through the bushes and land by his side.

It was a grenade.

Behind him, Eric heard a grenade exploding and cries for help. He wanted to turn around and see what was happening but, huddling behind the concrete flowerbed at the bottom of the split between the steps and firing up at the Russians at the top of them, he had no time to look away. RJ was hiding behind the jeep Steph had destroyed and was shouting at him that he was on his last clip. Randy had run out of ammo for his machine gun and was just beside him, firing up the steps with his assault rifle and stopping any Russians from coming down behind his friend. Bullets streaked through the air like a swarm of angry insects, pelting against the sides of the jeeps, cracking concrete and ricocheting off metal railings and benches. Some stray shots even landed in the river fifty yards away, making little splashes and ripples. He was about to fire a few shots when he heard a loud clang and felt Randy pulling back against him as something large and heavy tumbled down the steps and stopped just in front of his red-haired friend. Eric glanced back and saw that it was the statue of Louis Riel, riddled with bullet holes and split at the knees. The man’s sculpted face was indescribable.

That just pissed Eric right off.

Vince saw the statue fall and tumble down the steps and saw Eric’s eyes widen and his face redden at the sight. He knew what was going to happen next and prepared himself to help defend his friend from any enemies he missed. He forced himself not to glance to his left where he had seen a grenade explode and where he had not seen his brother get up and flee away from it. Putting worrying thoughts aside he looked through his scope as Eric burst out of from cover and ran up the steps, his bullets leading the way.

Once he reached the top of the steps, startling the Russian soldiers crouched there, he kicked the nearest one in the face, fired three shots into the skull of a second, fired five bullets into the chest of a third, and emptied the rest of his clip into the neck of a fourth with such ferocity that his head fell clean off. He leapt on a fifth soldier, slammed his head into the ground multiple times and then sunk his knife up through his chin and into his skull. The soldier he had kicked had recovered by then and was aiming his rifle at him. Eric pulled out of the knife and threw it, smiling in delight when he saw it sink deep into the Russian’s left eye. With the attackers atop the steps dealt with he reloaded his gun and fired down at the Russian soldiers still coming from the west. As he held the high ground his friends joined him, at first Randy, and then RJ who picked up the nearest Russian rifle to keep up the barrage, and then Krista and Steph. Before long the Russians had stopped coming and those that remained fired until they were low on ammo before retreating back to the west where they had come. The Manitobans seized their firing and heard the gunfire of a battle coming from the southwest. From the sounds of it the battle was nearby.

They rushed down the steps until they were at the edge of the river and eyed a bridge spanning across it only a hundred yards away, catching their breaths as they did so. On the other side of the river from them were Canadian Leopard tanks and LAVs as well as many soldiers firing up the bridge toward their side at something that was coming down towards them. With a gaze at the other side of the bridge they could see a large Russian ground force, consisting mainly of GAZ Tigr troop transports as well as a few Russian BMP infantry fighting vehicles and many soldiers on foot. They were attempting to cross the bridge but the defenders on the other side were making it incredibly difficult. It was now a battle of attrition and who had the most ammo or whoever could get air support first.

“So that’s where all those soldiers were coming from,” Steph surmised.

“If they cross that bridge they’ll be able to move east and surround the base at the Forks,” Eric notified. “Should we go help them?”

“We’re on the wrong side of the river,” Krista said. “We can’t take on that huge Russian force. We barely have any ammo left.”

Eric could only agree. “Well, at least it gives the Russians a distraction. We can keep moving towards the Forks then.”

“Uh, where’s Glen and Courtney?” Steph asked, looking around.

“And Junior?” RJ added.

“He’s here,” Vince said, coming from a line of bushes and supporting his brother as he walked toward the group. The younger brother was limping heavily and his face was littered with minor scratches. His right arm also looked dead as it swung loosely at his side.

“Got fucked up pretty good,” he said to the others when he had reached them. “I think my arm is dislocated and I can’t feel my leg.”

“Well, you’re alive,” Steph said with a pat on the man’s good arm. “That’s what counts.”

Junior nodded slowly, that movement alone making him wince in pain. “I also know what happened to Glen and Courtney.”

“They f*****g in the bushes?” RJ asked, glancing towards the foliage in case he could spot some steamy action.

Junior shook his head. “Not really. Russian got ‘em. I tried to shoot them down but the grenade knocked me out for a while and when I woke up I didn’t see them anymore.”

“Oh for f**k’s sake!” Steph said, grabbing his head in his hands as he had done at the sight of Steve’s corpse. “We have to get them back!”

“Steph, we have no ammo and we’d just be getting ourselves killed or captured if we tried,” Krista said quietly. “Our only choice right now is to get to the Forks. If they’re captured that means they’re alive so we have time to find them and rescue them once we have ammo and supplies.”

“And maybe a little back-up would be nice too,” Randy added.

Steph recovered quicker this time than when he had discovered Steve. It may have been because Krista’s words rang true. If they were captured they were yet alive, which gave him hope that they could be found and rescued again. He nodded as it began to make sense to him. “Yeah, you’re right. We need to get to the Forks so we can make a plan to rescue them. Let’s go!”

The group followed him as he made his way down the River Walk, following the river that would take them to the base they all desperately needed to get to.

Behind them, the Canadian defenders had fallen back as more enemy reinforcements had arrived and the Russians were charging across the bridge. They made it halfway before Canadian sappers detonated the explosives they had set along the bridge’s columns. They crumbled into tiny bits of rubble and the entire bridge collapsed in several pieces, tumbling into the river and taking the Russian soldiers and vehicles with them. The rest of the ground force on the banks, having no way to cross, turned back and returned to where they had come, awaiting different mission directives.

 

****

 

The walk alongside the river was slow as Junior could only move one leg and not quickly either. He was determined and tried to keep up but every step brought stabbing pain up his spine and after making it only a hundred yards he had to take a break. He sat down under a tree and caught his breath, angry at himself for not being able to fight the pain any better.

“This would be a good time for a nice big joint,” he said between breaths. “That would calm me down and might even ease some of the pain.”

“Too bad Glen isn’t here,” RJ said. “I’m sure he’d have one for ya’.”

“Too bad the city is mostly deserted. I knew plenty of guys that would have some for me…”

As they waited for Junior to recover, they noticed objects floating in the river past them, heading downstream in the same direction they were going. There appeared to be several dozen of them.

“They’re f*****g bodies,” Steph said. “At least they’re Russian.”

“Must be from the destroyed bridge,” Eric deduced. “Let’s hope they are indeed dead and not just stunned.”

“This isn’t a zombie story, Eric,” Steph said with a shake of his head. “They won’t come back to life.”

“I don’t mean they’d�"oh nevermind.”

“Ok, let’s try again,” Junior said, signaling his brother to help him up. Once he was up on his feet the others moved on, albeit slowly. Junior was wincing and in great pain but he kept moving ahead.

They made it just over another hundred yards and stopped under a large bridge. The winter had received much snow and the rain had been heavy in spring, making the river’s waters deep and quick. Waves were already lapping over the concrete path of the River Walk at some points and so they moved to the highest ground possible while still using the bridge as a shelter. They sat down and rested as Junior recovered, watching the river flow past the concrete support pillars, occasionally dropping off a fallen log or branch which would lodge itself between the pillars or drifted onto the muddy banks. All the while, the sounds of explosion and gunfire could be heard from the northwest, the battle for the airport appearing to have no end.

Randy spotted something on the riverbank, under a pile of branches and driftwood that could be of tremendous use. He pulled it out of the debris and saw that it even had a handy rope still attached to it. “There you go, Steph. You could lie down on this and we’ll just slide you along.”

Junior, the Steph Randy was speaking to, chuckled. “F**k yeah, I’ll make you my b*****s, have to drag me around like royalty.” Randy walked up to him and laid down the finding, a long forgotten plastic sled, and Vince helped his brother lay down in it. It was a little on the small side but Junior curled his body and fit most of himself inside it.

“Must have been here since the river thawed in spring,” Randy said as he tugged the sled along a few feet, testing the rope. “Probably buried in snow.”

“Well it’s better than me slowing you down,” Junior said. “At least now we might reach the Forks before night comes.”

Vince pulled out the map and checked their position. “We’ll get there soon, Steph. According to this we’re about four hundred yards from the Forks.”

“Then let’s keep moving,” Eric said as the others began getting up. “We might make in time for lunch.”

 Junior rested easily as the group marched on, Randy tugging the sled atop the concrete path without much fuss. Vince walked behind the sled, in case his brother fell out or the rope suddenly snapped and he had to get up and walk the rest of the way.

To their left there was a park and the men and woman of the group stayed alert and cautious. The bank was shallow and they could clearly see across the green expanse dotted with a few trees and benches. Any enemy sharpshooter hidden behind cover could easily fire upon them. They quickened their pace and hurried ahead until a thick cover of border trees and bushes shielded them from view. Junior bounced about in his sled, wincing and cursing at the sharp jabs of pain. It was still better than walking, though, he told the others when they asked how he was after they slowed down.

Less than hundred yards away they would come to another bridge and beyond that was the Forks, an ancient intersection of two of Manitoba’s most iconic rivers, the Red and the Assiniboine, the latter of which they were walking beside at the moment. The Red was larger and flowed northward through the city and dumped into the massive Lake Winnipeg. It had served as an important trading post in the early years of exploration. Hunters and trappers of mostly French origin, the voyageurs, would travel the rivers of Manitoba and meet with the native aboriginal population at the fork between the two rivers to trade items of value. Over time it evolved into a popular trading point which then evolved into a settled town and eventually Manitoba’s largest city. It was an important piece of the province’s history and now it served as a military base with the task of defending the city, as well as the province itself, from foreign invaders.

Eric, in the lead, took one more step forward and was suddenly staring eye to eye with the barrel of an assault rifle with an intimidating soldier behind it, staring at him through cold eyes. Six more soldiers appeared from the bushes to their left and aimed down at them. A Canadian Leopard tank rolled up on the road ahead, atop the bridge, and aimed its cannon down at them.

“We’re on your side,” Eric said fearlessly to the soldier ahead of him. “We were stationed at the Route 90 overpass and were ambushed before we could make it here. We made the rest of the trip on foot.”

The solider narrowed his eyes, studied the uniforms on each member of the group, eyed the sled and its occupant, noticed the scratches and bruises on everyone and lowered his rifle. He did not tell his partners to do the same.

“Who is your commanding officer?” the soldier asked.

“He was Corporal Tanning. He is dead.”

“Corporal?” The soldier was in disbelief. He looked to his brothers in arms. “Since when does a corporal command a platoon?”

One of the soldiers titled his head up slightly. “I might have heard about a Tanning corporal. I heard he was actually a sergeant but never got the paperwork in time or something. Everyone just kept calling him a corporal. Could be they were with him.”

This seemed to jog something in the first soldier’s memory. “You all from around here?”

Everyone nodded.

“We could show you birth certificates if you want.” RJ said, crossing his arms in annoyance.

The soldier relaxed. “That’ll be fine. You can all follow me. Looks like you guys could use some food and sleep.”

With the matter resolved, they followed the soldiers up a series of steps, in which Junior was aided by Randy and Vince, crossed the Main Street, passing the tank as it returned to its previous position, and walked down a path which took them between walls of sandbags and barbed wire. Beyond that was the Forks grounds and a mass of tents, vehicles, anti-aircraft batteries, artillery, radar and radio towers and a large number of military personnel. They were taken to the medical tent and looked over by the physicians and medics as the soldier-guide went off to search for a superior officer.

 

****

 

After a superior officer found them he showed the group to their quarters. He advised them to regain their strength and be ready for anything as reports were stating that the Russians were penetrating deep into the city and may reach the Forks soon.

“Well isn’t that good news?” RJ grumbled as he shook his head in frustration as the group rested together in their corner of one of the rooms of the barracks, a retrofitted shop space of the Forks Market, a large two-story building that had once been a site of various international stores and kiosks. “We finally make it here only to find out we’ll be retreating again. Like, why aren’t we winning this f*****g thing? We have the goddamn Americans on our side. They alone should be beating these Russians back.”

“It’s not like our armies aren’t trying,” Eric shot back. “The Russians didn’t start this war if they thought it would end quickly.”

“Why did they start it anyway?” Krista asked, genuinely curious. “What’s the point of this war?”

“My best guess is that Putin wants to bring the west to its knees and show them, the Americans mostly, that Russia won’t crumble as easily as everyone thought. When Saudi Arabia dropped its oil prices to cripple the Russian economy it worked for a while until Putin bolstered the support of his people by saying that the Western Nations were the cause of their misery. The annexation of Crimea didn’t sit well with the rest of the world but he simply told his people that Crimea had long been a part of Russia and had rejoiced in becoming so again and that that could not be a legitimate cause for all the sanctions Russian received in the aftermath.

“He promised revenge and a glorious Russia that no one had ever seen before. He took Iran in a week, showing the world how improved his military had become and how effective it was. I think personally he did that to try and get America to strike first but we all know how that went.”

“You know a lot, Eric,” Steph said, “but that still doesn’t give him any reason to invade Alaska and Canada.”

“Alaska had first been Russian,” Vince reasoned. “Maybe he was trying to bring back all of “old Russia”. Why he invaded Manitoba, I have no idea…”

“Well the Russians can’t expect to hold out for too long, can they?” Krista asked. “No country is going to trade with them, except maybe China.”

“There’s a lot of money to be made with China,” Eric started, “but probably not enough to keep this war going forever. Eventually he’ll have to either give up or retreat because Russia will be worse off than it was before.”

“He’ll feel the sting when he loses this war,” RJ said. “The Americans are not going to let him off lightly.”

“Oh I’m sure they already have a team of Spec Ops sent to assassinate Putin. Hopefully they get him soon.”

“What if this war is just a distraction?” Vince ventured.

“What do you mean?”

“What if, again, he’s trying to get the Americans to strike first but this time with nukes?”

“If he does that no one wins,” Randy said somberly.

“Bring the West to its knees, remember?”

“Russia would die too, though,” Steph said in confusion. “He’d be an idiot to use nukes.”

Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just a thought.”

“Well all this talk is depressing me,” Steph said, standing up. “I need to go shoot some guns or something. Any word on our rescue mission?”

No one had an answer as no one had heard anything.

“Maybe I’ll go talk to some general or something.”

He had taken one step toward the exit when an officer walked in and ordered all soldiers inside the room, about thirty of them including the plant workers, to follow him to the briefing station.

The majority of the group was ordered to sit outside the station and a select few were brought in for the briefing. Eric was chosen as well as two other soldiers unrelated to the plant workers. They entered the room to find several distinguished officers standing around a large television screen drilled to the wall. A man sat in the corner on a laptop, controlling the content on the screen.

Eric could tell that this was going to be something of great importance so he remained silent and listened intently.

“Normally we’d sent a special operations group for this kind of mission,” the officer standing beside the screen said, “but as we’re lacking those men right now and they won’t get here in time we have to send whatever we have. You soldiers were chosen as you are all that’s left of the Route 90 defense group and we all assumed you’d be willing to save some of your men as well as avenge those lost to the enemy. You are also one of the few experienced soldiers we have at this base. All others are fresh recruits that have never seen combat and we can’t trust this mission to them.

“Anyhow…” The officer pointed to the center of the screen, which depicted a map of Winnipeg. His finger was on the Health Sciences Center, a large hospital complex situated about one kilometer northwest of the Forks. “We have located a large number of Russians stationed here.” He noticed the shocked expressions on some of the soldiers’ faces. “Yes, they have advanced that far already. We continue to deny them the airport but while our attention is focused there they take the rest of the city around it, despite requests to spread our forces. High Command wants the airport to remain in our hands and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it…but anyways, that’s not the business at hand. What I want for you is take your team and infiltrate the HSC and rescue the prisoners we believe are held there. We can’t bomb the building because of that. Two of them are high-ranking American officers, which I believe is the only reason they haven’t leveled those buildings yet. How they got caught I have no idea but we need to rescue them and any other prisoners before we can slaughter the Russians inside.

“The plan is simple. Weather reports tomorrow are calling for a day full of thick cloud cover and heavy rains, maybe even some thunderstorms. Once those hopefully arrive you’ll take your team and march to the HSC, using cover, and once there locate the prisoners and free them. We have British and French troops on their way there from our Symington base in the eastern part of the city and they’ll be sent as a diversion to help empty the building of Russians. Once they’re engaged you’ll enter as quickly and carefully as you can. Because of the weather you won’t have any air support but neither will the Russians. The British and French will have a large ground force so they should keep the Russians occupied for a decent amount of time, giving you some breathing room.”

“Why not send the British and French to free the prisoners?” asked one of the soldiers. “Why do you need us to get in there?”

“Because if our allies beat the Russians what’s left of their army will regroup at the HSC and we’ll back at square one. We need a small task force to enter unseen as the battle is waging in order to free the prisoners.”

Eric asked, “What if the Russians don’t fall for the bait? What if they stay inside and wait for the French and British to attack first?”

“Then we’ll have no choice but to send our allies into the building as the rescue force. The prisoners might die in the crossfire but we have a strong suspicion that the Russians will do everything they can to subdue any attempt they will see as a counter-attack on our part. If the Russians don’t take the bait your force will join the British and French once they storm the HSC.”

“And what happens if as we’re fighting Russian reinforcements show up? Are the British and French forces going to be able to hold them back? The HSC isn’t tiny and it’ll take time to rout every Russian in there.”

“We have an extensive network of snipers and lookouts surrounding the entire area within a two block radius. They’ll alert us to any reinforcements in time for your force to abandon the mission and return here for debriefing.” The officer eyed the three men seated before him and narrowed his eyes. “Are any of you officers?”

The three soldiers exchanged glances and shook their heads.

“Are there no officers within your group?”

“We’re all privates,” Eric said, pointedly tapping the private’s insignia on his shoulder. “Who’s going to lead us?”

The man eyed Eric carefully. “I will find one before the morning. Until then you are dismissed. The officer will be briefed as soon as he is chosen so you three, as well as he, will be able to pass the information down to the rest of the group.” He then waved them aside and the three men left the room.

Eric returned to the others and told them of the mission as the other soldiers told the rest of the task force. Steph was elated to be given an offensive mission and was so excited he left to go find a shooting range to blow off some steam. Randy, Krista and Vince exchanged worrisome glances, unsure of how wise it was to send such inexperienced men into such a heavy concentration of enemy soldiers. RJ didn’t say much and just shrugged. Junior was still in the military hospital, which had once been a restaurant, and would hear about the mission later. The rest of the group wondered if he would be healthy enough to join them.

 

****

 

As it turned out, Junior was in better health than previously thought. With a rather unhealthy dose of painkillers he was able to walk and run with little difficulty. His doctor wanted him to rest for a week but after hearing about the mission he grabbed as many pills as he could and said that there was no way he was staying behind. His wounds were stitched and cleaned and his arm had been returned to its socket. His leg had suffered several shrapnel wounds but once the debris had been removed and his leg heavily wrapped he discovered that he could move it freely. He went to the shooting range and tested himself and after the first shots went wide of the target he managed to group them nicely, showing everyone that he was still deadly.

The Forks grounds were mostly cramped with tents, anti-aircraft and artillery batteries and any vehicles that had run out of room in the parking lot, giving the soldiers little room to move around. The base extended north of the Forks grounds and took over a large parking lot as well as an empty construction site. The Provencher Boulevard ran northwest/southeast on the east side of the parking lots and to the west of them, as well as the Forks, ran the Main Street, heading in a straight north/south route, leaving the base on a roughly triangular piece of land. Within that piece of land there was also the tall and oddly shaped Canadian Museum of Human Rights, which somewhat resembled a gigantic upside down ice cream cone made of glass.

The group managed to find a quiet spot on the banks of the Red River, not far south from the Provencher Bridge which poked the sky with its single angled spire. Vince, Randy and Junior had managed to find themselves some fishing rods and a few lures from within the base and were casting their lines in the water, trying to enjoy some peace and quiet and take their minds off the upcoming mission and the fact that Glen and Courtney were still in enemy hands. One the banks, Krista, Steph and Eric chatted. RJ had spotted an attractive female soldier on their way to the river bank and had gone off in pursuit of her. Everyone relieved stress in their own way….

As Vince was battling with a rather feisty catfish Steph said in an uncharacteristically hushed voice, “I sure hope we find Glen and Courtney at the HSC tomorrow.”

Eric and Krista nodded.

“Makes sense for the Russians to bring them there if they already have prisoners in that building,” Eric said. “I’m still shocked they’re getting so deep into the city.”

“They haven’t made it here yet,” Steph said, “and as long as they aren’t we’ll push them back.”

“Yeah but just imagine how the HSC will look after we’re done with it,” Krista said with a slow shake of her golden head. “That’s the city’s biggest hospital. Once we retake the city it’s going to take some serious rebuilding. It’ll be a while before things get back to normal.”

“I hope they managed to evacuate everyone out of there in time,” Eric said. “It didn’t take too long before the Russians got here after they took Churchill and Thompson and some of their patients would take a long time to move.”

Steph shrugged. “Might seem harsh of me to say but if they couldn’t live without being plugged into something then they might as well just pull the plug and let them die. It makes it easier evacuating everyone else and it’s not like they had much of a life anyway.”

Neither Eric or Krista could dispute the point.

Light was fading fast and just as the group was ready to leave they heard the sound of heavy guns firing and then bright flashes in the sky. As if a fierce beast had suddenly awaked in anger the base lit up with anti-aircraft fire. Hundreds if not thousands of bullet tracers shot up into the sky at an unseen enemy. The yellow lines streaked up like an inverted rain pelting against the navy blue canvas of night. Mixed in with the tracers were missiles, only their rocket thrust fire visible, making them appear as huge flares flying up into the stars. Occasionally a large explosion would light up the sky as one of the missiles hit their mark. The sound of the barrage was ear-splitting, like a continuous crackling thunder.

Everyone rushed up the bank and into the Forks grounds and looked up, hoping to see the enemy. The barrage lasted only a minute, perhaps two, and then the base was silent, draped in a thick cover of smoke left behind from the anti-aircraft guns firing their many rounds. RJ was seen running through the smokescreen toward them.

“What the hell was that about?” Krista asked him when he reached them.

“Recon aircraft,” RJ answered. “Heard one of the gunners talking about it. The Russians were scoping out the base. Could be they were preparing to bomb it but no one knows for sure. They might have simply been testing our defenses some are saying.”

“That was intense,” Randy said. “Did any aircraft get away?”

RJ shrugged. “I doubt it. Don’t know how anything could get through all that.”

“Well hopefully that’s all the action we get tonight,” Krista said. “We need to get our sleep and be ready for tomorrow.”

The friends returned to their room inside the Market and were soon asleep.

There was no other anti-aircraft barrage to disturb them in their slumber and though they slept relatively well the morning came all too soon.

 

 

Summer Storm

 

 

It was dark and smelt of blood and urine. He could see nothing in the darkness but heard whispered voices and sobbing. He sat on the cold ground with his arms tied tightly behind his back. He had tried to free himself many times but not even his great strength could help him. His face stung as if on fire. His jaw and eyes were swollen, he was missing a few teeth, his skull felt as if it had been pressed under a vice and it hurt to breathe. He roughly knew where he was but there was no way he could escape, tied to a support column as he was. The room he was in was rather large and if he’d guess as to what it was he would say it had once been a waiting room in a hospital. Glen had never liked hospitals.

Courtney quietly sobbed beside him. She was tied to the column as well, though she wasn’t as physically bruised as he was, at least not on the outside. Glen tried to calm her and say that they would be rescued soon enough but his lack of belief in his own statement was palpable and it didn’t calm her at all. He tried to think of a way to free himself, something he had never stopped doing since his capture, but always came short. He was surrounded by many other captured men and women, some soldiers and officers and some simply civilians that had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Judging by some of the voices he heard sometimes some were little more than children.

The door opened suddenly and a wave of light filled the room for a few brief moments. Glen, his eyes almost completely shut due to the bruises, was hardly able to see anything. He heard footsteps coming his way and felt a dizzying spike of pain on his temple as he felt a rifle butt slam into his skull. The attacker laughed and said something in a language he did not know. There were other foreign voices as well and he heard a woman scream in protest and the sound of shuffling feet as she tried to get away from her captors. Glen’s vison turned red as he recognized what was going to be done. He felt Courtney tense up beside him and she had stopped her sobbing. He struggled against his bonds and pulled with all his might but only received another butt strike to the head which nearly slipped him into unconsciousness.

The captors didn’t even bring the woman into another room. Glen could hear the sound of clothes being hastily removed and ripped off and the screaming woman began to sob. He heard the zip of pants being pulled down and some shuffling about, followed by the sound of a vicious smack across soft skin, most likely the woman’s face to quiet her. She continued to sob throughout the ordeal, all the while the Russian men laughed as their comrade grunted with effort. Glen could hear different tones of grunting, suggesting that it was not only one man committing the gruesome act. The woman continued to sob.

Glen had never wanted to break free more than he did now. He struggled and pulled and tried to stand but the rope was thick and was tied securely. When the woman’s sobs quieted he heard the footsteps returning to his position. He received another savage hit as he heard the men struggle with something very near to him.

It was Courtney.

“No, f**k, no leave me alone!” she screamed in protest. Glen could feel her kicking and struggling with all her might and then she suddenly stopped as she received a heavy blow to her own head, dazing her. Glen resumed his efforts at breaking free but had barely moved when he was hit again.

He heard the laughing.

He heard Courtney’s cries turn to sobs.

He heard the grunting and the continued laughing.

He heard the sound of smacking and hitting as Courtney struggled.

He heard it all and could do nothing about it.

When minutes passed by Courtney was returned to his side and tied up once more. The soldiers had their way with two more women before they left the room, draping it in darkness once more. Glen wanted to say something to make her feel better but he could find no words. He could barely move his swollen lips. He settled for saying nothing and simply staying close to her, even though she shivered at his touch.

What felt like hours passed and Glen was beginning to think and even hope that the worst was over.

As time went on more Russian soldiers would come into the room and more of the women would be brutally abused. None were spared: the old, the middle-aged, the young…and even those that had yet to reach puberty….

Their captors’ brutality knew no bounds.

 

****

 

The rain came heavily and early. It washed away the dust and made little rivers throughout the Forks grounds. Earthworms sprouted from the ground and dotted the area. Puddles appeared quickly and before long the gutters along rooftops were gushing out water in torrents.

The force of thirty soldiers was prepared and ready to leave within minutes of being awakened. The officer that had briefed three of them the day before entered the room with something under his arm and had a look at his strike force. He nodded in satisfaction and then fixed his eyes on Eric.

“Couldn’t find a man I liked enough to lead you all,” he said. “You were asking the right questions yesterday.” He revealed what he had brought and gave it Erik. “It’s your new uniform, Sergeant.” He saluted him and Eric saluted him back, taking great pride in knowing that had had bypassed several ranks to reach one of leadership.

“There is a map in your breast pocket,” the officer said to Eric. “On it is the route you will follow to the Health Sciences Center. You have your orders. Bring back those American officers and any other prisoners you can find. That is all.” He saluted the group, turned sharply, and left.

Eric, still overjoyed at being promoted, changed into his new uniform and then stepped into the hall. “All right men and women, you know what we need to do. Let’s head out and get this done.”

“That’s your rousing battle speech?” RJ asked incredulously.

“Shut up, RJ,” Eric shot back.

The thirty soldiers walked out of the Forks and onto the Main Street as the heavy rain fell all around them. It was so thick that they could only see about half a mile ahead of them. Despite being drenched in seconds and already feeling cold and miserable they head out, Eric taking the lead.

They headed north, walking down alleys instead of streets, and passed buildings of several stories which provided them with good cover. Despite the heavy cloud cover they still found themselves occasionally looking up in case of helicopters or drones. They came to the end of the alley and had to briefly walk on the sidewalk along the side of Fort Street. Towering above them on their right side was the Trizek building, a fine sniping spot. They hugged the concrete wall beside the sidewalk, hoping to make themselves difficult targets for any enemy snipers that may be hiding on one or many of the building’s thirty-two floors.

“We have to be quick now,” Eric told his team as they reached the end of the sidewalk and the side of Portage Avenue and Fort Street. All around them loomed skyscrapers that could hide an innumerable amount of snipers that could kill them several times over before they ever reached the other side of the street.

They did, though, and using the cover of alleys, outcroppings, abandoned vehicles, and in some cases debris from bombings, which the city had received little of thus far, the team reached the Health Sciences Center. The HSC was not one building but an entire block of many buildings of various sizes all dedicated to health and medicine. There was a Women’s Hospital, a Children’s Hospital, a Cancer Care building and many other buildings dedicated to different medical fields.

As the team huddled behind abandoned vehicles atop a parkade located across the street from the adult emergency building they surveyed the area, despite only seeing a small fraction of the entire Health Sciences Center complex.

“So where are the Russians?” Steph asked. “Did they tell you which building they’d be in?”

“Best guess would be here,” Eric said as he looked through his binoculars. He was aware of the CanadInns hotel which loomed over him across the street and to his right.

“I feel vulnerable here, Sarg,” Vince said, his own binoculars on the many stories of the hotel. “There could be so a whole crapload of snipers looking down at us right now.”

Eric smiled at being called “Sarg” but the smile didn’t last long. He was quite aware of the danger they were in. “All right, everyone down one level. We’ll have the roof as cover and we can still keep an eye on things.” The group moved down from the top of the roof to the next highest level, which was mostly covered in darkness and offered decent cover, as well as protection from the incessant rain. Any abandoned vehicles that could be found were pushed to the front where the glassless windows opened up to the world, offering more cover.

“Now we wait for the British and the French to make their move,” Eric advised the others as he huddled between two minivans, binoculars in hand.

RJ sat down nearby and gave Eric a sharp nod of his head. “So how come you get to be sergeant and we get f**k all? We aren’t good enough or what?”

Eric shrugged. “I didn’t ask for this. I’m sure once we complete this mission you’ll all get promotions so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“We damn well better. I can’t wait to boss little private pukes around.”

The wait was long and uneventful. After a time one of the soldiers under Eric’s command asked if a scouting party should skirt ahead and try and find out where the enemy was hiding. Eric agreed it was a good idea, especially since the radios were functional again, and sent ten soldiers ahead as scouts to seek out the enemy. Vince went with them because he knew the area well enough to act as a guide. RJ had wanted to go as well to prove himself but Eric denied his request.

“Well f**k, it’s better than sitting around here,” RJ grumbled as he paced the parking lot impatiently. “Those f*****g British are probably sitting back with their tea and forgot about the whole mission.”

“They’ll be here,” Eric said to him. “Keep your head together, Jubes.”

Junior had been scoping out the area with his binoculars during the wait and spotted something far to north, down the street that separated the parkade and the HSC building. “I got something to the north,” he said as thunder began to rumble overhead. “Looks like it could be a tank.”

“Russian?” Eric asked as he joined his side and looked through his own binoculars.

“Not sure. They all look the same to me…”

A flash of lightning lit the sky for a moment and the two men were able to distinguish the shape and size of the tank more clearly. Eric recognized it as a British Challenger 2 main battle tank and felt a rush of adrenaline flow through him. It was time. “The British are coming,” he called out to his team. “They’ll be here within minutes. Everyone get ready to storm the building after their assault.”

Suddenly, out from an alley between two buildings a Russian T-90 tank burst from cover and drove up on the street, its turret aimed at the British tank. It shot a round into its hull and then backed into cover as the British tank returned fire but missed. It was not long before more Russian tanks appeared and crowded the street, firing into the British ranks. One even used the parkade itself as cover and hid between it and the neighboring building.

RJ saw his chance to prove himself and moved to the side of the parkade the tank was hiding beside. He looked through the glassless window and down and spotted a Russian gunner firing upon the approaching British with his machine gun. He climbed through the window, judged that the ten foot fall wouldn’t hurt too much, and leapt. Eric saw him act at the last minute and ordered him to stand down but RJ didn’t listen. After landing softly on the tank’s turret RJ snapped the gunner’s neck and lifted him out of the hatch. Once the hatch was open to the world he dropped several grenades into it and closed it, ensuring it stayed closed by pushing down on it with all his strength. He felt the vibrations and heard the booms of the grenades exploding within and laughed. He had just single-handedly taken out a Russian T-90 main battle tank, the best they had. That should merit a promotion, he thought.

His celebration was cut short as he was spotted by a Russian soldier coming out of the HSC building. He was fired upon but RJ leapt off of the tank and used it as cover.

Eric saw it all happen and knew that if he did nothing Russians would be storming the parkade, thinking it taken over by British. Meanwhile, from the other end of the street, the French had arrived and were closing in, firing tank shells and machine gun bullets into the fray. Luckily, Eric noticed that the fury of the French assault was keeping the Russians at bay for now.

“Looks like the British and French want to finish this,” Randy said over the cacophony of tank blasts and machine gun shots as he eyed the scene. “Doesn’t look like they’ll fall back like they’re supposed to.”

Eric nodded. He had noticed as well. This attack was much too furious to be a simple diversion. The two allied groups were intent on destroying the Russian force here and now. He saw Steph, as well as many of the other soldiers, wanting to open fire on the Russians emerging from the building but ordered them all to keep their rifles down. He didn’t want to betray his position.

“We won’t get another chance at this,” Randy said. “It’s your call.”

Krista winced as a huge chunk of the emergency building was shot off by a stray tank shell. Stray bullets had already pockmarked it, shattering many of its windows, and the violence of the assault was further damaging it. “Eric, before long that building is going to be nothing. We have to go in now or we’ll never find those prisoners.”

Eric nodded. She and Randy were right. The wait was over. He had heard nothing from Vince and his search party but seeing Russian soldiers pour out of the building’s entrance was proof enough that he had chosen correctly. The prisoners were in there somewhere.

A skywalk connected the parkade to the second floor of the building and he ordered his soldiers to rush through it. They encountered Russian soldiers with RPGs inside it, readying to assault the oncoming British and French tanks. They were caught by complete surprise and Eric’s team took them down easily. Stepping over or around the dead bodies they crossed the street from above and were soon inside the building. Inside was a bustle of movement. Russian soldiers ran about, mostly toward the exits. Eric called a halt and quickly scanned the area. It was a large foyer with one path leading further into the building on the left and a path on the right leading towards the hotel. He chose the path on the left as most of the Russian soldiers were coming out of there. With a nod to his soldiers he ordered a charge.

The twenty men and women rushed forward, spraying bullets into any Russian soldier they encountered and dropping them like flies. The first few minutes of their assault went well as the Russians were completely unaware that their building had been breached. Over time, however, word spread and they met heavy resistance. As they progressed through the expansive building they searched rooms as quickly as possible but had yet to find any prisoners.

 

****

 

Glen heard the commotion outside the room and listened intently. Something big was happening out in the hall. Behind him a Russian soldier was servicing himself to one of the women of the group of prisoners despite the turmoil. Beside him Courtney appeared to be sleeping but he knew better. She had simply lost all will to live and was in a state of semi-consciousness. She had slipped it into long ago after the countless times she had been abused. She didn’t speak and didn’t even appear to notice he was there. He had tried talking to her several times but she had never responded.

The woman behind him let out a scream as the soldier got rougher with her. Glen used the sounds of the action in the hall to his advantaged and struggled with increased fervor. The sounds of his struggle were drowned out and it gave him much more time to twist his hands and wrists about in hopes of freeing them from his bonds. When he finally determined that that was not going to work he decided on a course of action he was familiar with�"brute strength. He pulled and tugged on the rope holding him tied to the column and ignored the pain coming from his wrists as the bonds dug deeper into his flesh with every pull. He threw his whole body forward but was jerked back as the rope held tight. He tried again to the same result. Clenching his teeth tightly, he tried a third time and felt just a miniscule amount of slack this time. It was good enough for him. He kept trying over and over again, more times than he ever got a chance to before being assaulted on but eventually heard the Russian soldier shout at him. Glen didn’t give up and continued to repeatedly tug against the rope. He heard the soldier hurriedly clasp his belt and run toward him.

He then heard a most satisfying snap as the rope finally gave in.

He turned to the soldier just as the man was lifting his rifle for a blow to Glen’s head. Glen instead threw his body into the smaller man and fell atop of him. He then gave the man a mighty head-butt to the forehead and rolled over on his back so he could lift his legs through his bound arms and have them in front of him. As the Russian soldier struggled to his feet Glen swept his leg and dropped him to the ground once more. When the soldier was on the ground Glen swung his bound arms over the man’s neck and hauled him against his chest where he pulled hard. The soldier struggled greatly and almost freed himself several times but Glen held strong, his rage giving him near superhuman strength. The rope dug deeper into the soldier’s neck and he soon began to gasp for air. He tried to pull Glen’s arms ahead to loosen rope around his windpipe but was unable to. Eventually, the soldier’s lungs were bereft of air and he suffocated. Glen kept him tight against his body for several minutes after, ensuring that the man was dead. When it was clear that he was, Glen reached for the soldier’s knife and used it to free himself from his bonds. He grabbed the man’s rifle, some grenades, extra clips, a sidearm, and the knife and went to the other prisoners. He cut their bonds and put the sidearm in Courtney’s open hands. To his surprise she reacted immediately and clasped it tightly. She came to life before his eyes and was up to her feet in seconds. Her face was red with fury and her eyes were cold as ice. Glen burst through the door with Courtney by his side and the prisoners behind him and fired down the hall at approaching Russian soldiers. Courtney never missed a shot. She had not said a word since Glen had freed her but her bullets did the speaking for her. She was having her revenge and it was a violent one.

Glen tossed a grenade down one hall and glanced at a map of the building posted on a wall. He gained his bearings and headed toward the nearest exit as the grenade exploded, killing an unknown number of enemy soldiers. Courtney reloaded her pistol and followed close behind. The other prisoners had picked up weapons left behind from the soldiers Glen and Courtney had killed and were eager to have their own revenge on their brutal captors.

Glen could still see very little but he saw enough to allow him to guide through the halls. He hurt everywhere and had a most agonizing headache but put those feelings aside, knowing that his only purpose in life at that moment was to leave the building and eventually return to the base. He felt the sting of a bullet scraping the top of his left shoulder and turned to fire at the attacker but by the time he raised his assault rifle to shoot off a few rounds the prisoners behind him had filled the enemy soldier with more than enough lead to make an impressive statue with.

Satisfied with the outcome he nodded to the fellow prisoners in thanks and then kept moving. He turned a corner and stopped abruptly after catching sight of a group of people he thought he’d never see again.

 

 

****

 

The rain ended in the late afternoon, not long after the Russians had finally fled the HSC to their bases in the northern parts of the city. The battle had been fierce, even with the British and French soldiers combined forces storming the entire block. Eric’s team had lost ten soldiers and another twelve were severely wounded. His former co-workers had suffered minor wounds but none of them had died. With the reunion of Glen and Courtney they were in high spirits, especially after Vince rejoined them some time after the battle. He, along with his scouting group, had been preoccupied shooting down some of the fleeing Russian officers before they could get into their vehicles and drive off. With Russian command weakened, its army deprived of several hundreds, maybe even thousands, of soldiers and all of the captives safely rescued it was declared a complete victory. With the weeks of steady Russian advance it was a tremendous morale booster. The Russian army was proven to be not invincible and it could indeed be defeated. Many of the allied soldiers at the battlefield believed it was a turning point in the war.

Eric was not so optimistic but he did believe that it was a great victory and that it should be celebrated. He sat on the steps outside the heavily damaged HSC adult emergency building and drank from his water canteen as the soldiers around him rejoiced and taunted the half dozen captured Russian soldiers chained to a street light. Few soldiers had wanted any Russians to remain alive but some of the higher-ranking officers had determined that capturing a few may help in garnering vital information. It had taken Eric and his whole team a surprisingly long time to keep Glen and Courtney at bay from the prisoners. They had calmed down considerably since then but nevertheless the British, who had captured the prisoners, kept them under heavy guard.

Eric gazed to his right where Steph, Junior and Vince were conversing with some of the French soldiers in their native language. He was fluent in French as well and smiled when he heard that they were talking about French women and if they were really as pretty as they had been told. The French soldiers asked them the same about Canadian women.

Randy sat down beside him and wrapped a cloth around his bloodied hand. He had received a deep cut after grabbing a Russian soldier’s knife in his bare hand before it plunged into his gut. Eric had then seen Randy wrench it out of the soldier’s hand, toss it aside, and pummel him with his large fists until the Russian man’s head had been little more than broken bone, blood and brain matter. He did not see his usually kind and easy going friend break down in a fit of rage but war did strange things to people and this event had happened after they had been reunited with Glen and Courtney and learned of the abuse they had suffered so it had surprised him little. He himself had been especially violent to his victims after hearing about the brutal torture his friends had suffered. As he remembered, every one of his friends had acted thusly. He remembered Steph laugh at a glancing shot to his ribs before slamming the shooter’s head into the stone wall so many times he had created a head-shaped crater.

“So are we headed back to the Forks?” Randy asked after drinking half of his canteen in one gulp.

Eric nodded to the officer in charge of the British, who was overseeing the Russian prisoners and asking them questions. “Major Henglish Pig over there says we’re to hold this spot until American reinforcements get here. After that we’ll return to the Forks and probably rest a bit before getting our next mission. For now just sit back and relax. We did good today. We did real good.”

Randy fumbled about with his canteen and sighed. “You know, it feels weird but after all those Russians we’ve killed over the past few days you think I’d feel something but I don’t. I don’t feel sick to my stomach and I don’t get nightmares, at least not yet. Does that mean anything?”

Eric shrugged as Krista joined them. “I don’t know,” he said to Randy. “To tell you the truth I don’t feel much either. Maybe it’s because we’re fighting for our homes that we feel as if this is what we’re supposed to do. We’re defending our homes and our country with our own lives and if we don’t the enemy is going to take it away from us. It’s as natural as a pack of wolves defending their den or bees defending their hive.”

Randy nodded. “Yeah, that could be it. That makes sense and doesn’t make me feel like I’m a serial killer or something.”

Krista, overhearing their conversation, added, “I’ve thought about it a lot too, Randy and I came to the same conclusion as Eric. It’s a natural reaction to someone trying to take your home. I didn’t think I could kill either but…I have, and I’ll admit the first few kills were hard to take but now it barely affects me, especially after hearing what they did to Glen and Courtney.”

“Yeah, f**k,” Eric said angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. “I couldn’t believe it when they told me. Apparently they did it to the children too.”

“F*****g savages,” Randy said through gritted teeth.

“I heard about what they did in World War Two to the German women they met on their way to Berlin but the Germans had attacked them first so in a twisted sense it almost made sense. We haven’t done anything to Russia and this is how they treat their prisoners? Yeah, f**k them. I’ll kill as many as I have to until this war is over.”

“You and me both.”

“If I have to, I’ll do the same,” Krista said. “I don’t even know what I’d have done if my son or daughter had been one of the prisoners. I’d probably have lost my mind.”

Randy chuckled, not at what Krista had said but at RJ in the distance, flirting with a rather attractive female British soldier.

Eric, spotting him, shook his head and smirked. “That guy never stops.” He looked over to the medical truck where medics were treating Glen and Courtney. Glen’s many bruises had been addressed and the ones blocking his vision had been opened and drained, allowing him to see again. He could not see much of what they were doing with Courtney but it appeared as if she was being given an X-ray to view her internal wounds, if any, due to the type of abuse she had received the most. He hoped they would be in shape to continue fighting with him. He could use their rage.

“Here they come,” Randy said after a few minutes, gazing to the south down the street in front of the steps they sat on. Eric and Krista gazed in the same direction and could see a line of several Humvees driving down the street toward them, followed by LAVs, M1 tanks and many troop transports. An Apache attack helicopter suddenly flew into view and soared over the gathered allied soldiers and vehicles, its arsenal of various missiles and bombs in clear view.

“It’s in American hands now,” Eric said as he stood up, readying himself to leave.

 

 

Wounded Bear, Hidden Dragon

 

 

Mooch stood at the beginning of a long line of rail cars delivered by CN Rail. These would be filled with biodiesel and delivered to bases nationwide. He had heard on the news earlier in the morning that the Chinese had reached the Hudson Bay and had sent several forces inland via James Bay, including one at the small town of Moosonee in Northern Ontario and another town called Chisasibi in Northwestern Quebec. Using the roads that led out of the towns the armies were heading south, towards the big cities of Toronto, Montreal, and Canada’s capital, Ottawa. He remembered hearing how that would divert much of the attention the army was giving to Winnipeg and send it east to prevent any invasion of the more populous and more valuable cities. Mooch thought it was a bullshit move and was worried that the Russians would take Winnipeg and soon all of Manitoba. The papers were filled with reports of how the Russians were already moving west again, threatening the cities of Saskatoon and Regina in Saskatchewan. Chinese had made it as far south as Winnipeg and were now reinforcing the Russians there. So far the city held strong and only the northwestern region of it was under command of the enemy. The airport, after heavy bombardment by both forces, had finally been taken by the Russians but was under such constant shelling by Allied artillery that it was rendered inoperable. He had nearly thrown the newspaper in the garbage when he had read that some of the American generals were thinking of withdrawing from Winnipeg and preparing for an invasion of North Dakota and Minnesota, saying that Winnipeg was not vital enough to the Allies to be saved. With the proximity of American bases in North Dakota and Minnesota the defense of those States would be more easily accomplished and a counter-attack could be more easily planned and executed. Canadian generals had argued against this tactic but with America contributing far more military forces than Canada and even Britain and France combined it appeared to hold sway in the argument. To Mooch’s relief no final decision had yet been made but he had a bad feeling that it would not go the way he wished it would.

“F*****g Americans,” he grumbled as he reached for the rail car’s manual brake, resembling a metal wheel, while thinking about the morning news. “I knew they’d pull some s**t like this…” He flipped a lever to disengage the brake and stepped back, wincing from pain in one of his knees. As much as he cursed against it and wished it wasn’t happening age was catching up to him and it pissed him off.

There was a sudden long wailing horn blast that made him jump and he turned around, facing south, to see a CN train driving by on a nearby railroad that went from Winnipeg to the US border. The engine was heavily armoured in plates of thick steel and resembled little of the usual black and red blocky machine he was accustomed to seeing. Two machine gun turrets sat atop of it and a remote-controlled cannon poked out from a round blister between both turrets. Small holes in the side of the armour allowed men to fire through at any enemy they encountered. Most of the train cars were the usual box cars, tanker cars and hopper cars but at the end of the line were flatbed cars carrying howitzer artillery cannons, several American tanks and LAVs and many Humvees and cargo trucks. A second engine faced backward, similarly armoured and armed came after the military cargo as a line of defense against any enemy followers. He heard the sound of helicopters and looked above to see three dark shapes in the sky, keeping in pace with the train.

“The news can’t be all that right if they’re shipping supplies to the city,” Mooch’s trackmobile driver, the woman he had been training all these weeks, said through his radio from her position at the other end of the line of rail cars Mooch was taking the brakes off of. “Maybe they’re not giving up on us just yet.”

“They damn well better not be, those m***********s,” Mooch grumbled back to his mic. “Can’t stand Americans. Nothing but a******s and buttfuckers.”

The woman’s reply was a laugh. “Stop being such a grumpy old man, Mooch. They’ve done lots for us.”

“Yeah yeah…at least they gave us the NFL.”

The train did not stop at the plant and kept going, intent on reaching its destination before it was attacked or destroyed. There had been reports that Chinese ground forces had been pillaging the countryside, oftentimes aided by small forces of Russians. Little damage had been done yet but with the Battle of Winnipeg going nowhere fast it was only a matter of time before the enemy focused its forces elsewhere.

Mooch limped the rest of the way to the trackmobile, his arms swaying from side to side as his neckless head gazed down at the large gravel rocks making up the rail ballast. He had stumbled on a few and had nearly sprained his ankle many times and didn’t wish to add that pain to the one his aching knee was giving him. Cursing at ever misstep he eventually made it back to the trackmobile and guided the woman into the processes of pulling in rail cars into the plant’s rail yard. She had done it several times already but he liked to remind her….just in case.

In the plant George’s crew was at the helm, keeping production up at maximum. George sat at the computer, for as long as he could before he had to get up and move around due to his constant restlessness. He had thought it odd that Russia would send forces to Winnipeg instead of one of the country’s larger cities but after the Chinese invasions of James Bay he thought he had an idea as to their plans. The more fronts Russia opened up the more widely spread its enemies’ armies would be, making the invasion that much easier. He had read that Portland, Oregon was under attack and that the Northern Californian town of Redding was currently being invaded by the Chinese, leaving less than 250 kilometers between them and the city of Sacramento. This would bring the Chinese dangerously close to Seattle, Washington and San Francisco in California, two highly populous cities with massive ports.

The Middle East was faring poorly as well. With the influx of Chinese forces the Russians and their allies had invaded Saudi Arabia and were gathering any and all oil fields they could capture to their side. The progress was slow and was often set back by the fierce resistance of the Americans and their allies but Saudi Arabia was now no longer neutral and fought alongside its longtime ally America. Iranian uprisings kept Russia’s hold on the country tenuous at best but as more Chinese poured into Middle East the hold was steadily strengthening.

George noticed something on the computer screen to his left and grabbed the radio nearby and pressed the microphone button. “Russ, come in.”

Russ replied. “Yup, what’s up?”

“Do you want to come here for a minute? I want to check something at the separators.”

There was a short pause. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, George. What do you need?”

It was a common occurrence as George oftentimes spoke too quietly in the radio and all the receivers heard was a slight murmur. George sighed, frustrated with having to speak louder than he was comfortable with, and opened his mouth to reply with more volume.

A loud siren outside cut him short and had him sprinting to the window of the door leading outside to investigate. He was looking to the west of the plant and saw the guardian force of soldiers scrambling about. Those posted atop the catwalks over the bins and the tops of the legs were readying their weapons and turrets and gazing to the north. The artillery cannons were manned by four soldiers each and with those atop the catwalks and legs that left only a small handful on the ground. He saw the platoon leader on a radio of his own. George pushed the door open and stepped outside and gazed to the north. Beyond the gravel road running from east to west about two hundred yards away was a wide expanse of open fields. The crops were growing well as harvest season was approaching but he noticed something else as well. About a mile away, coming down a gravel road further north were many dark vehicles that kicked up huge clouds of dust. He could see from his position that they were military vehicles and were moving quickly and judging by the movements of the soldiers below they were not friendly. His breath quickened and his spine turned cold. He struggled to think of what his next move should be and despite it all still wondering why the separators were acting so strangely.

Outside, Paul was walking across the parking lot with a pipe wrench in hand, intent on fixing a leak. He noticed the soldiers moving about and when one of them spotted him he was ordered to get inside the plant and remain there. Paul asked him what was going around and the soldier’s reply was…“Chinese!” Paul rushed inside the plant and headed for the control room.

Russ, working in shipping/receiving with the daytime workers, was confronted by one of the soldiers as he alerted everyone to find shelter. Alvin, the middle-aged, pony-tailed and beak-nosed supervisor of shipping/receiving immediately called everyone into the basement. Ed, a strong and religious man of simple mind asked constant questions as to why but Alvin, knowing he’d panic if he told him the truth, told him it was a practice drill. Alvin gestured Russ to hurry up but Russ hesitated. He turned around and gazed to the east, down the rail yard.

“Mooch is still out there!” he called out to Alvin.

Alvin’s face paled and for a few seconds he froze in fear until he snapped to attention and got on his radio and told Mooch to hurry into the basement as quickly as he possibly could.

“What for?” was Mooch’s reply. “Sandra and I are almost done moving the cars out to the wye out here. Give us a few minutes.”

“The F*****G Chinese are headed here!” Alvin replied red-faced and spitting. “Get your a*s over here NOW!!”

Just then the sound of fighter jets in the sky zooming by filled the air and Mooch’s reply was lost. Russ finally saw the trackmobile chugging black smoke as Mooch had it pinned at the highest gear, heading directly for the plant. He had never seen it driven so fast before and worried it might derail as it was not the most reliable of machines. As Mooch reached the halfway mark Russ heard distant explosions and assumed it to be the jets attacking the incoming Chinese. He could not see them due to the buildings on his left blocking his view of the northern fields and kept his eyes on Mooch. The man was always rushing even at the calmest of times, which usually ended up in accidents happening, and now that he was actually ordered to rush Russ was concerned he may do something that just may kill himself and possibly Sandra as well.

The trackmobile finally arrived at the shipping/receiving building but when Mooch hit the brakes it locked the wheels and caused the whole machine to skid and jump about slightly. Russ watched in horror as it tipped to its side and fell with a hard thud. He rushed ahead and noticed Alvin racing toward the scene at breakneck speed. The two of them opened the door and were relieved to see both Mooch and Sandra alive and well, the former cursing enough to make the saltiest of sailors proud and the latter just rubbing a bruise on her head. Together they left the trackmobile and hurried into the basement, feeling safer with over a foot thickness of concrete over their heads.

As they waited the plant workers soon joined them. First there came Mike and Guy, the millwrights, as they had been working not far from the shipping/receiving building. After them came the truckers and farmers that had been waiting in line to be unloaded or loaded. Then came Paul, still holding his pipe wrench, and after that there was some of the freshly hired workers that had come to fill in the recently open positions left behind by the departure of Aaron, Farid and several others that once had homes in Winnipeg. Rheal came next, a bald but robust man in his sixties with a sharp mind, little fear and who sported a trademark white moustache. Before long the only man missing was George.

“Where the hell is he?” Alvin asked.

“That guy is probably trying to save the plant,” Russ said with a shake of his head. He got on his radio and called for George to come into the basement now.

“I’ll b-be right there,” he replied in a rushed but quiet voice. “I just want to set the plant up so we can leave it be for a while.”

Alvin got in his radio and, much like he had done with Mooch, spat out, “George! For Christ’s sake you’re going to get bombed or shot and killed if you don’t get down here now! The plant work is done! Once this is over we are all heading home and leaving! It’s over! Leave the plant alone and get here now or you will die! Do you understand that! You will DIE!”

 George’s reply was a few minutes later and sounded almost sad. “Yeah…yeah, ok. I’ll…be right there.”

Later, as George left the control room and ran down the outside staircase that led to ground level the soldiers were preparing for battle. The jets had dropped bombs and missiles into the line of Chinese vehicles and had destroyed a few of them but the Chinese had been prepared and had fired many anti-aircraft missiles at the jets, downing one and chasing the others away. The artillery cannons on three sides of the plant site were already firing as many rounds as possible. The distant explosions kicked up great columns of brown dirt and sometimes Chinese soldiers and vehicle pieces. Before long the Chinese were firing back with their tanks and self-propelled artillery and the Canadian artillery crews scrambled to reload and keep firing back amidst the bombardment all around them. The Canadian LAVs fired their small cannons at the approaching enemy and dropped a few soldiers but had little effect against their tanks, which could destroy the LAVs with ease if they got a clear shot on them.

George raced toward the shipping/receiving building as a huge column of gravel and dirt shot up from the ground just a few feet to his right. The shock of impact threw him aside and he landed hard but he got up quickly and kept running. A stray shell landed a few dozen feet to his left and exploded into a parked rail car, sending huge chunks of metal flying in all directions. One of the smaller pieces scraped across George’s shoulder and shed blood. Another skidded across the ground and bounced up to hit him in the shin, nearly cleaving his left leg right off. George fell and cried out in pain but was stubborn enough to keep trying to get up.

Until he saw the blood.

Trying with all his might to stay conscious he struggled to get up but within a few short moments the sight of all his blood staining his coveralls and the ground all around him was too much for him to handle and he felt his head grow hot and his vision begin to blur. Everything soon felt like a dream, as if nothing around him was real and he was actually sleeping comfortably at home.

And then he fainted.

Paul had watched him come and saw him fall. He saw the tracers of stray bullets sent by the approaching Chinese streak through the air and the explosions of tank and artillery rounds creating small craters around the work site. He saw it all but he could not let his fellow co-worker die on the gravel only a hundred yards from his salvation. He had known this man for more than a decade and had worked with him many times. He acted differently than most people but he was a good and generous man with a kind heart and great virtue. He couldn’t let him die like this.

Dropping his pipe wrench, he ran across the inside of the shipping/receiving building and emerged outside amidst the chaos. He heard the soldiers shouting commands at one another and saw the ones atop the bins and legs open fire with their machine gun turrets, sending a rain of bullets northward. The remote-controlled missile turrets were meant for aerial defense and did not act, at least not yet. Paul soon came to George’s prone body and grabbed him roughly. He slung him across his shoulder and ran back toward the basement. Once he reached the stairs leading down underground he gave George to Alvin and Russ standing at the top steps waiting for him and then turned around once more.

“Where are you going, Paul?” Russ asked in confusion.

“Those Chinese are going to kill us all if they take this place.” He glanced back at Russ with a fierce look of determination on his face, one Russ had never seen before. “I’m going to do my best to stop them.”

“He’s f*****g nuts,” Alvin said as he readied to haul George below. “Give me hand here, Russ. He’s heavier than he looks.”

Russ took a deep breath and frowned in determination. “No. I’m going to help Paul and the soldiers.”

“You’ll die!”

“At least I’ll die fighting and not hiding in a basement.” Before Alvin could say anything else Russ hurried to catch up to Paul.

Alvin watched the two men leave and just shook his head in disbelief.

Paul and Russ found the nearest soldier and said they were helping them. Expecting to be told to go hide they were surprised when the soldier, who appeared overwhelmed and almost scared, gladly showed them to the stock of weapons and gave them quick pointers on how to use the automatic rifles and grenades. After Paul and Russ had both grabbed assault rifles the soldier told them to go wait between two concrete silos where another soldier stood in wait.

“We’re here to back you up,” Paul told the lone soldier when they arrived.

He glanced at the two of them quickly, shrugged his shoulders, and then nodded toward the Chinese. “They’ve just taken out our artillery with their tanks. They’ll be crossing the road any minute now. When they do our focus is on the soldiers. The RPG unit will take care of the tanks.”

“How many guys in the unit?”

The soldier made a little laugh. “Just one, but he’s good and has excellent aim.”

“Are we all there is?” Russ asked in surprise.

“We called for reinforcements but they won’t be here for a while. It’s a twenty minute drive from the base in Morris to here. After losing that expensive jet they ruled out any choppers so we’re on our own until the reinforcements get here. If we can hold them off until then we can get through this.”

“Twenty minutes is going to feel like days with so many Chinese,” Paul said as he poked his head from cover and gazed north, already seeing the Chinese rapidly approaching and driving down the road toward the plant. “Can we do it?”

“If those tanks are taken out first we stand a chance,” the soldier replied, checking his clips and grenades and preparing for combat.

“Why not use the missile turrets?” Russ asked.

“We would but if we waste our missiles on tanks and they send choppers we’re totally fucked.”

“We’re fucked as it is if we don’t use them.”

The soldier just shrugged. “Orders are orders…”

Paul shook his head in frustration. “F**k orders.” He was about to head toward the radio transmitting truck parked just behind the South Silo and take control of the missile turrets himself when the Chinese crossed the road and began firing in earnest, spraying bullets everywhere. They pelted against the armour-plated seed bins and concrete silos but pierced deep holes in anything that wasn’t shielded like parked vehicles, glass windows and conveyors. Paul paused as the soldier and Russ began firing upon the enemy. A tank round exploded five feet from them and sent the both of them flying back. The soldier got up quickly and resumed his attack, tossing a grenade for good measure. Russ had landed hard and winced as he struggled to get back to his feet. Paul returned and helped him up and took him to the other side of the silo, the opposite side the soldier was facing, their backs facing his. They poked their heads from cover in time to see a Chinese Type 99 tank roll by with six soldiers following close behind, shielding themselves from the intense fire coming from the top of the bins and legs. They fired up at the gunners, completely unaware that Paul and Russ were watching them.

Paul shouldered his rifle and fired away, dropping three soldiers as Russ killed two more. The last soldier spotted them and aimed his rifle in their direction but before he could fire his head exploded into thousands of bits of bone and brain matter. Paul and Russ glanced behind them to see Rheal walking toward them, carrying a Canadian C-14 Timberwolf sniper rifle.

“Haven’t shot a gun in years but I guess I still got it,” he said as he joined their side.

“Glad you could join us,” Paul said in thanks.

Rheal nodded and searched for a spot to hide and fire from. He settled for a spot on the ground just beside the silo that overlooked the northwestern side of the plant site, the side the Chinese had come in from. He could see the scale house and open fields to the left but a small shed to his right blocked his view from there. Paul and Russ took it as their duty to cover him so they rushed to the shed, which housed a large assortment of electrical panels, and used it as cover as they looked to east toward the parking lot and the front of the plant and the powerhouse. The Chinese had gathered there and were attempting to break into the plant. The soldiers had locked the doors shut and heavily barred them, however, and the enemy soldiers were having difficulty breaking in. From their positon they were mostly protected from the plant by attacks from the catwalks and legs.  

Paul and Russ had a clear shot at them but so did they. They hid inside the shed and planned their next move before attacking.

“They have two tanks there,” Russ said. “What can we do?”

“Where’s that f*****g RPG guy?” Paul asked, glancing around.

“F**k.” Russ pointed underneath one of the nearby bins where a dead soldier lay on the ground. Resting on the concrete beside him was an RPG. “I think that’s our guy.”

Paul cursed and thought of a plan. Meanwhile the Chinese at the front of the plant were shouting at their tank gunners to fire at the wall with their cannons. The turrets turned slowly and the long main guns lowered to aim at the front door. Just before they could fire, however, one of the few remaining LAVs charged in from the north and fired its own repeating cannon at the tanks and the soldiers around them. It didn’t stop and kept driving as the Chinese tanks hurried to turn their turrets in its direction, firing all the while. It killed a few soldiers and chipped a bit of armour off some of the tanks but didn’t destroy any.

Paul saw his chance and rushed toward the RPG. Russ followed close behind, firing at the Chinese as the LAV turned around and made another pass. This time, however, the tanks had their turrets in the right direction and both tanks’ cannons fired simultaneously, striking the LAV directly and making it explode into a massive ball of flame and black smoke. It had given Paul enough time to reach the RPG, however, and he hoisted it above his shoulder. He aimed it toward one of the tanks, quickly found the trigger, and fired. The rocket-propelled grenade shot forth with tremendous speed and struck the side of one of the tanks, its armour-piercing tip digging deeply before the round exploded, killing the tank crew inside and damaging the vehicle’s internals. With one tank out of commission Paul hurried to reload, grabbing another round from the dead soldier’s belt and shoving it into the tube. Russ noticed that the Chinese had spotted them and began firing in their direction and called at Paul to hide in the shed once more. Paul grabbed one extra round and his assault rifle and raced into the shed as bullets zipped through the air all around him. One scraped the back of his leg and another shot straight through his left arm but he didn’t slow down. He dove into the shed as Russ fired back at the Chinese soldiers, his stream of bullets paltry in size compared to their heavy barrage. Before he ducked behind cover he noticed that the second tank was aiming its main gun at the shed. He was cold with fear and sweat beaded all over his body. He prepared for the end to come. At least he had fought bravely, he thought to himself. At least he had killed a few of the fuckers before he fell.

Paul didn’t let that happen. He dove out of the shed in much the same manner as he had dove inside of it and got to one knee, lifting and aiming the RPG in one fluid motion and firing it before he had a chance to think twice. The round struck the tank true, directly in the frontal armour�"but did not penetrate.

Paul froze for a few moments. He had one round left but if it was going to do as little damage as his other did it was more or less useless. At the same time the Chinese soldiers were advancing towards their position, firing all the while. Before he received another bullet wound he snapped to attention and dove into the shed again.

At this time Chinese troop transports were unloading more soldiers onto the plant site and tracked infantry fighting vehicles were circling the grounds, firing upon any soldiers attempting to hide. There remained few Canadian soldiers on the ground, overwhelmed as they were, and those atop the catwalks and legs were running low on ammo and too many targets to choose from.

Paul and Russ waited inside the shed for their demise. With so many vehicles driving around one less tank was going to mean little. The RPG was sitting against the wall next to Paul, within easy reach, as his hands gripped his assault rifle tightly. Russ had his assault rifle pointed at the only entrance and exit into the metal shed, ready to empty his clips into any enemies that showed up. They had heard Rheal firing away behind them but did not know if he was still alive. They also had no idea if the Chinese had already searched the shipping/receiving building and found their co-workers in the basement.

“Well, Paul,” Russ said in French, “it was nice working with you. It’s been a slice…”

“You too, Russ,” Paul replied in kind. “Now let’s try to use every single one of our bullets before we die.”

“Deal.”

To their mild relief the tank had not fired its round yet, which meant soldiers were coming in to investigate, something they had hoped would happen. Sure as day, the first ones burst in, rifles aimed ahead and their foreign cries filling the air. Russ shot the first one in the head and Paul split the heart of the second. Two more came in to die before the assault abruptly ended. ‘Were they calling for the tank?’ Paul and Russ wondered.

They heard something small but heavy hit the ground with a tink tink. Paul spotted it immediately and tossed the grenade outside before it blew. It exploded in midair and caused no damage. This time several grenades were tossed in all at once. Paul and Russ managed to kick them all in one general corner and hid behind the three rows of electrical panels on the other side. The grenades exploded violently, blowing out an entire side of the shed and destroying two of the three rows of electrical panels. The third row cracked at the base and tipped over, falling on the opposite wall and coming to rest at an angle with Paul and Russ beneath it. It was sparking brightly and zapping incessantly but Paul and Russ remained just inches beneath it, facedown and motionless, hoping they didn’t get shocked.

Chinese voices were heard and footsteps came after as several Chinese soldiers walked into what was left of the shed and searched for dead men. One poked his head underneath the fallen panel to have a look below it and received a bullet between the eyes. He dropped to the ground like a heavy sack as Paul slid out of cover, firing wildly. Russ crawled out of the other end while the enemy soldiers were focused on Paul. He scored two quick kills before the other soldiers noticed him and fired back. Before he ducked under the fallen panel for cover he caught sight of the RPG still resting against the wall not far to his left.

Paul kept his attack up as long as he could but when his clip ran out he had to duck for cover quickly. His arm was bleeding profusely and the back of his leg ached immensely. He reloaded as bullets pelted the ground beside him and the panel above him. When he was ready to attack once more he waited for a slight break in the barrage that would tell him the enemy was reloading. When it came he hurried to renew his attack but was held back when Russ called out, “Stay down, Paul! Duck!” Paul did as was told and ducked underneath the panel and stayed low to the ground.

Russ had the RPG on his shoulder and before he was fired at shot it at the gaping hole in the shed’s wall where the Chinese soldiers were pouring in from. It exploded fiercely and sent Chinese soldiers, panel pieces, and concrete chunks soaring in every direction. Russ was hit in the head by debris and dropped the ground in a heap. Paul came out from underneath the panel during the confusion and fired into the smoke and dust all around him at any moving shapes. When his clip was empty and the scene had quieted down he reloaded and searched for Russ.

He found him lying face down in a pool of his own blood.

Rheal was indeed still alive and after noticing the approaching soldiers had fallen back to the radio transmitting vehicle. He hid inside, finding it vacant, the radio operator probably ordered to fight with the other soldiers. He found the controls to the missile turrets and found them ready to use. The radio operator had probably been eagerly awaiting the command to use them. Rheal wasn’t about to wait for one and set about determining the controls. He was adept with many kinds of software and easily figured them out. He glanced at one of the screens delivering feed from a camera situated somewhere on top of one of the legs. It overlooked the whole northern side of the plant site, where the battle was taking place. Controlling one of the turrets, he aimed it toward the front of the plant, where the remaining Type 99 tank was slowly creeping toward the shed Paul and Russ were in. Without waiting for a better shot he fired two missiles and watched on the screen as he saw them zip down from the turret with great speed and exploded into the tank brilliantly, utterly destroying it. He locked on to an infantry fighting vehicle, a Chinese Type 92, which resembled a LAV with its tank-like shape, small turret and cannon and wheels instead of tracks but this one had six wheels instead of eight like the LAV. After a missile exploded into it all six wheels flew away, leaving behind a smoking heap of metal. Rheal destroyed three other vehicles with his last missiles. There remained two Type 92s, the transport trucks and four armoured troop carriers. Having no missiles left he stood to leave the radio transmitting vehicle and grabbed his sniper rifle. He had only taken two steps when hundreds of bullets began pelting against the vehicle’s side and before long were piercing through. Rheal ducked to the ground as dozens of holes began appearing in the vehicle’s sides. He put his hands over his head, protecting himself from falling debris, and waited for it to end. When it did he quickly grabbed his rifle and hurried to the side door.

He found Chinese soldiers waiting for him.

Alvin had grown restless in the basement and couldn’t get Russ’s words out of his head. He was probably dead by now but he had fought for his life, whereas he, hiding underground, was guaranteed to die when the Chinese finally came down. There were no weapons to fight them with and not many places to hide. If the Chinese weren’t sent back they were doomed.

He had made up his mind. He was going to fight. He charged up the stairs and was on ground level. There were no Chinese inside the shipping/receiving building but with its overhead doors wide open he could see everything to the east and west of him. A Chinese armoured troop transport rolled into view and he rushed toward the staircase that would take him to the building’s second and third floor. He had no weapons but he knew where to find some. From the third floor was a catwalk that took him between the bins and from there metal stairs that took him higher to a more stairs and eventually a ladder that would bring him up on the catwalks where the machine gun turrets were positioned. He reached the top quickly and found an unused turret at one end of the catwalks. A dead soldier, his head split open, lay on the grating beside it. He stood over the dead soldier, grabbed the turret handles in his hands, and aimed it down at the ground toward a group of Chinese soldiers hiding beside the scale house. He squeezed the triggers and all four barrels fired simultaneously, shooting a steady stream of bullets toward the group of soldiers. Alvin wasn’t a seasoned soldier, however, so many of his shots struck the ground and the building next to the enemy soldiers but he did score several hits and even two kills. He fired another volley toward a troops transport and riddled it with holes. Some soldiers came out of it and he shot at those too, killing one and injuring three more. He glanced about for more targets when he heard a great commotion behind him. It sounded as if hundreds of guns were firing at a single object. He ran down the catwalk to the turret that faced the south end of the plant and looked down. There he saw the radio transmitting vehicle parked behind the South Silo filled with holes as three armoured troop transports and a dozen soldiers were all firing at it. He grabbed the turret and pointed it downward. The firing had stopped and no one had noticed him yet so he took his time to aim. He noticed a large group of soldiers waiting just beyond the vehicle’s side door, as if waiting for its occupant or occupants to come out. He noticed a man burst out of the vehicle and immediately recognized him. Before the Chinese could fire at him he fired first, his four machine gun barrels dropping bullets into the enemy soldiers like hail. Rheal looked up at Alvin and though the two men had had their differences in the past he nodded to him in thanks. Alvin nodded back before opening fire on the armoured troop transports. They had noticed him, however, and returned the fire, forcing him to duck behind cover.

Rheal used the hole-ridden radio transmitting vehicle as meagre cover from the armoured troop transports. Each of them sported a machine gun turret and the gunners manning them were aggressive. Their focus was on Alvin at the moment and that gave him enough time to fire a shot into one of the gunners, hitting him in the gut. One of the remaining gunners shifted focus to Rheal while the other kept his on Alvin. Rheal hid behind cover and worried that if he didn’t move somewhere else Chinese soldiers from elsewhere on the plant site would find him. All the adrenaline and action was taking its toll on his body and though his spirit wanted to keep fighting his body was beginning to ache painfully. He dropped the sniper rifle as it was beginning to grow heavy on him and picked up one of the dead Chinese soldiers’ assault rifle instead. Before his body seized up on him he was going to chance a run for it. He steadied his breathing as much as he could, gripped his rifle at the ready, and looked straight ahead at the spot between the two silos. The Canadian soldier stationed there was still alive but had suffered a leg wound and sat against the side of the North Silo, sidearm in hand. If he could reach him at least he could die in good company. He heard Chinese soldiers calling out in their language and the firing suddenly stopped. He didn’t think twice and charged ahead with as much strength and speed he could muster. He glanced to the side quickly and what he saw forced him to stop and gaze in awe.

Mooch had found the loader, parked just outside the shipping/receiving building, and had driven it through the building from the east side and came out of the west side to appear just beside the three armoured troop transports. The looks on the Chinese gunners’ faces upon seeing him were priceless. Rheal watched as Mooch charged forward with the loader, forks pointed straight ahead, just inches above the ground. He slammed into the first vehicle and raised the loader’s arm, the forks underneath it lifting it up and flipping it over. The remaining gunners aimed their turrets toward the loader before their vehicles could be flipped and Rheal was quick to seize the opportunity. He fired the assault rifle into the back of one of the gunners and noticed that Alvin had been paying attention as well as a hail of bullets came down from above, shredding the last gunner into pieces. Rheal grabbed some grenades from the dead soldiers around him and rushed to the armoured transports before any remaining soldiers inside them could come out to either replace the gunners or attack Mooch or himself. Glancing up he saw Alvin’s turret moving about slightly, assuring him that he had cover. When he reached the first transport he glanced through the windshield but saw that sometime during the battle it had been pieced and the driver behind it was dead. He threw a grenade through the hole in the windshield and stepped back as it exploded and blew out a section of the vehicle’s side. When he limped to the second vehicle, his body aching immensely now, he had to pause to catch his breath and try to ease some of the strain on his body somewhat. As he did so a Chinese soldier burst out from the vehicle’s back door and cried out in defiance. Alvin’s turret barrage struck him in so many places his arms fell off and his chest split open. Rheal, still struggling for breath, looked ahead to see Mooch running over the crawling body of a Chinese soldier struggling to drag himself away from the upturned vehicle. Rheal winced at the sound of crunching bone before stepping back and leaning against the side of the North Silo so he could slide down into a sitting position.

Mooch was out of the loader, carrying a Chinese assault rifle, and was excitedly looking into the upturned transport for any more survivors. He thought he saw one of the bodies twitch and emptied his entire clip into it, his whole body shaking about from the rifle’s recoil.

“Got the m**********r!” he shouted in victory before rushing to Rheal’s side.

“Good job, Mooch,” Rheal said to him with a forced smile. “You finally drove the loader properly for once.”

Paul came onto the scene with his arm across Russ’s shoulders, both men supporting one another. Paul was limping due to his leg wound and Russ had a gruesome gash on his forehead and blood was dripping down from it into his eyes, blinding him until the wound could be cleaned. They sat down beside Rheal and recovered. The battle still waged on the north side of the plant but they were spent and too exhausted to keep fighting.

“Late to the show as usual,” Mooch said with disgust.

“What do you mean?” Paul asked him.

“F*****g Americans coming down the gravel road,” he said as he gazed north between the support legs of the bins ahead of him. “Their tanks are blowing up what’s left of the Chinese here and you can guarantee it that they’ll take full credit for this and say that they saved us by themselves and that we were minutes from being overrun.”

“They wouldn’t be wrong, you know,” Russ said with a chuckle. “You should be glad they’re here. At least that means we live another day.”

“Bah! F*****g Americans. I hate them all. Why couldn’t they send our own army to save us?”

“Our army is spread thin, Mooch,” replied Paul. “We have soldiers all over the country fighting to defend it. The Americans have the largest army in the world. It only makes sense for them send people because they can spare them.”

“I don’t give a s**t. I hate them anyways.” With that he grumbled on, muttering curses and swears under his breath before eventually walking back to the loader.

The few remaining Chinese forces were quickly beaten back by the American reinforcements and the remaining Canadian soldiers and plant workers that needed it were given medical attention. Paul’s arm and leg were bandaged and Russ’s head wound was cleaned and stitched up. Rheal was given painkillers and muscle relaxants so he could sit and rest in comfort. Out of the twenty-five soldiers stationed as the plant’s defending force only five survived. There were scores of dead Chinese all over the plant site, however, and it showed that they had fought with ferocity and skill and had proven their worth.

Alvin walked downstairs into the basement to tell the ones hiding there the good news when he spotted three dead Chinese soldiers on the ground, surrounded by their own blood. Shocked, he looked up from them to see Ed standing nearby, Paul’s blood-stained pipe wrench in hand.

“I-I-I hope God forgives me for this,” he stuttered, his blue eyes wide with genuine worry.

Author's Note

Yes, it's a long read, I understand. In the future I may split it up but for now that's how it's going to be.