Transition Plan Chapter 80: In His Majesty's Service Part 30 - All Fall Down

Author's Note: A gentle warning that we are at a solid T for violence in this chapter. Thanks so much to guest reviewer Anona who read every chapter at once and liked the story! Now that's dedication! :) To Lexicona: no I haven't seen that movie. Sorry. Plus Timbuktu is 1700 km from Kamina, so it is not likely anyone would meet. To Sueanoi: thanks for your great suggestions, most of which have been in the plot so far, and for the last one you will see today.

...

Jack didn't look back or try to count the seconds it was taking, as he trusted Jeanne as his coach. The time climbing up the tower was not the issue, and she didn't want him to wear out on the way up and have nothing left for the critical descent, and even forced him to rest a couple of times. She called out all the points on the way up he'd have to place dynamite on the way down, to save time, and he marked those spots as he climbed with pieces of bamboo. It was just like their object hiding game. The men never thought about that and were impressed by the children's ingenuity.

Jeanne called each emplacement location as he went.

"One quarter…"

"One third. Doing great, jungle boy."

"Halfway up, Jack!"

"Two thirds!"

"Three quarters. Getting there."

"Guy wires, Jack."

Destroying the point where all the thick steel wires came together to stabilize the tower in its vertical position below the pinnacle was very critical. When the wires were released, it could fall freely. Two sticks of dynamite would be inserted into the junction flange.

Finally, when Jack reached the very top antenna mast, Jeanne yelled from far below, "Look, Jack, you're there!"

A collective cheer came from everyone, and there was still no sign of any trouble. Jack was winded, but in much better shape than he thought. Once again, the stamina he built up from carrying Jeanne swinging together through the jungle gave him ample energy reserve.

For a brief moment he looked around and saw the great vista from the top of the tower overlooking the never-ending green jungle canopy. It was breathtaking. But this tower had to come down. He sliced the top off and guzzled the water in a small bamboo culm he took up for refreshment. His thirst slaked, he felt ready. When he gazed upon the fierce fighting in Kamina in the valley below, he was instantly jerked back to reality and to his task.

"Rested, Jack?" Jeanne shouted up her question.

"Yes!" he confirmed.

"Come back to me now, jungle boy," she said, and reached upward with open arms to him with that amazing smile.

He looked down, smiled, and waved at her. Despite the 200 foot drop he didn't have the slightest twinge of vertigo.

This was it.

He affixed the first dynamite stick, the one that would sever the pinnacle aerial from the top of the mast. This was the most dangerous section to anyone below, as it would fall the furthest and fastest, and would be like a giant spear impaling anything in its path on impact. Metal pieces from the antenna array would fly everywhere like splinters when it impacted.

With the very long fuse in one hand, he grabbed one of the lighters and flicked it a couple of times. It wouldn't light. He tossed it back in the bag. There were two spares. The second one worked and he lit the fuse and let it drop.

He yelled below, "First fuse lit!"

It burned like something from hell, it was so blinding.

Jeanne clicked the stopwatch. She clutched her very unsettled stomach.

"Five minutes to go Jack!"

She didn't have to tell him twice. The race was on.

He stopped briefly at the cluster of guy wires and set another dynamite charge, lighting its enormously long fuse next.

He continued his climb down at a breakneck pace and at every preset marker on the way up, he placed dynamite sticks at all those predetermined weak points. The Colonel was impressed with the boy's skills before, but even more so now. Climbing and descending the structure of the antenna seemed effortless to the Viscount. And the shear height, just hanging on only by his arms and legs – with no safety harness - didn't seem to bother him at all. Jack Clayton was definitely his father's son.

At the halfway point in his descent, he had well over three minutes left, and Jeanne called it. Everyone's confidence soared.

"C'mon son," Tarzan urged softly to himself, not wanting to distract his boy. His gunshot wound still throbbed, and he rubbed his leg.

But at that point, their plans went completely awry.

A rifle shot rang from somewhere in the trees and grazed Jack's shoulder. He winced and ducked, anticipating another bullet. His intuition saved his life. A second shot rang out but ricocheted off the frame right above him. His head had just been there. He stopped, and moved around on the antenna frame in considerable pain, looking for cover behind a flat metal flange, while confounding the shooter by being a constantly-moving target. He was wasting precious seconds. It was still a very long way down.

"Get the shooter!" the Colonel shouted.

Every man in the unit had their guns raised and were desperately trying to find where the shots were originating. The gunman was very well hidden. Armand realized sadly that his men in pursuit had failed to stop the last German soldier. Those were three of his best.

The spark from the ricochet set the fuse off on the latest dynamite stick in the middle of the fuse. Jack quickly snuffed the flame with his fingers, burning them a little, and his knife against a metal flange. The fuse was still usable. As he lit the correct end of the fuse, another shot rang out. Jack quickly went back around the radio mast using the frame as a shield, but he was pinned down and could not descend. He looked up and the fuses were burning relentlessly.

Jeanne ducked below the diesel engine, remaining hidden from the sharpshooter, and yelled frantically, "Only two and a half minutes Jack! Keep moving!"

Jack prayed the Frenchmen were doing something to stop the gunman.

Having freshly dispatched the three French soldiers who pursued him, the German sharpshooter felt very confident he could kill the child who dared to destroy the tower. There were less than a dozen Frenchmen left, including the jungle man and the children. From his hidden perch in the trees, he had a perfect vantage point and he could get them all. He gave an evil sneer.

Tarzan and Armand were frantic. Jack was a sitting duck on the frame. The rifle echoes caused them to not be able to locate the gunner. He fired and missed Jack yet again, but the gunner was starting to anticipate the boy's dodge-and-feint patterns. Jack's shoulder throbbed painfully, despite not bleeding badly, but he gritted his teeth and went on. Jack discovered he could keep descending at a snail's pace using the antenna guide cable trough as a shield, but the sniper kept firing because Jack had to emerge from time to time to affix the dynamite and light fuses.

The Frenchmen's inability to find the shooter was maddening despite everyone's best efforts to search, and yet protect themselves from gunfire also.

"Find that man! Drop him!" yelled Armand.

No one could see the gunman, until Jeanne looked up from her hiding place.

Jeanne alone had the perfect view of the gunman, and right now he was only focused on killing Jack. She knew what she had to do. The French girl selected one of the big ball bearings from her ammo bag, placed it in her slingshot, stood up, aimed at the sniper's forehead, and pulled the elastic cord back in the longest draw ever she'd ever done. Jeanne had to knock him out.

"Jeanne, get down!" yelled her father.

She prayed, ignoring her father, "Dear God, guide my hand to save my boyfriend. And all of us."

She didn't care if it was a sin that she prayed to stop the killer. She released the shot, and while she watched it rocket toward the sniper, she reached for a reload round, just in case.

In his fear to protect his daughter, Armand actually did the opposite by yelling at her. It called attention to her position. The gunman noticed Jeanne standing, slingshot in hand, and attempted to reposition slightly in the tree so his next shot would be for her.

"Play with fire, French girl, and you will get burned," the German muttered to himself.

The first ball bearing arched its way into the trees. The sharpshooter didn't know she'd fired already.

He should have never shifted. Rather than hit his forehead and knock him out, the speeding ball bearing entered his left eye, ripped through it with a sickening splatter, smashed through the back of the eye socket into his brain, continuing its damage as it went, bounced multiple times off the back of the insides of his skull, fracturing the bone each time as it tore through more cranial tissue with each bounce, turning the sharpshooter's brain to mush.

He groaned, went limp, his weapon fell out of his hands, and the body fell from its perch into the jungle below.

Armand saw the man fall and yelled, "Finish him!"

The men didn't need to, because they found the gunman was skewered on a tree stump when they arrived, and he was dead on the way down.

Jeanne was sickened that she had actually killed the man, but fought back the images the grisly sight, and she shouted, "Jack! It's safe. Go! Go! Go!"

Jack didn't know Jeanne had taken care of the gunman herself, but he continued downward very quickly.

Jeanne put killing the man out of her mind for the moment, knowing that because of her, Jack was safe, and picked up the stopwatch. She was very startled at how much time had elapsed, and yelled, "80 seconds Jack. Hurry!"

Jack realized just climbing down wasn't going to do it. Jack grabbed the antenna cable from its protective trough, ripped it loose all the way to the bottom, and started rappelling down the cable at breakneck speed like he would any vine in the jungle, using the cable trough as a backstop for his feet as he went, stopping only at the prescribed points to affix and light the next rounds of explosives.

Jeanne held her breath at Jack's fearless move, but by doing this he made up lost time rapidly.

"45 seconds Jack!" she yelled. Her voice was very unsteady but she stood her ground. She alone could see how short all the fuses two hundred feet above them really were.

"Jeanne! You and Jack must get out of there!" Armand shouted.

She dismissed her father's warning, who was being dragged by his men to safety. He would have run to scoop her up in his arms and try to run back to rescue her, a foolish move that would have killed them both.

Tarzan thought the same thing, "Forget the rest of it! Save yourselves."

Jack kept sliding and inserting lighted dynamite sticks as he dropped ever faster, but he managed to still answer loudly, "No, Father! I have to do this. For the family's sake, get back."

Unfortunately Jack was right. One of them had to survive. Tarzan wanted desperately to go help his son, just as Armand wanted for Jeanne, but withdrew to safety with Armand and the men, and prayed every step of the way for the safety and life of his son and his girl.

He thought helplessly, "Why did I agree to this madness and put Jack and Jeanne in danger? What kind of father am I?"

Jack alighted on the top of the radio transmitter blockhouse, letting go of the antenna cable. Jack and Jeanne were close together, with him on the roof and her on the ground just below him.

"Half a minute Jack," she said softly, in true fear for their lives now.

"I've got this Jeanne. Then we're gone."

This was the most critical emplacement. This dynamite would destroy the transmitter and the men inside. He ran across the roof of the blockhouse and grabbed another stick of dynamite from the nearly empty bag. He hastily lit the fuse, but because of his burned fingers, he fumbled it and dropped the stick. It rolled off the roof and fell to the ground, still burning.

There was no time to go down, grab the stick, climb back up, and drop it in the air vent.

"I've got it Jack," she sprinted to the burning dynamite, placed it in her slingshot and aimed at Jack.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes! Shoot."

She gave it a soft shot right into his hands, and he caught it easily.

Armand was astonished at Jeanne, watching safely from their protection in the jungle. This was the same girl who cowered in fear in Morocco as her house collapsed around them. That was a lifetime ago.

Jack hesitated for an instant and prayed, "Please forgive me for what I do. Today, I am Korak."

He dropped the dynamite stick into the air shaft and immediately he jumped from the transmitter block house to the ground grabbing Jeanne by the hand. Jack lit the fuses on the remaining dynamite and jammed them under the diesel generator, the tower concrete anchor point, and fuel tanks.

Jeanne looked at the watch one final time and called as the sprinted from the tower, "20 seconds Jack…"

She knew they had run out of time. They really needed 30-40 seconds for a safe separation distance.

He grabbed her by the hand and took off at a dead run for the edge of the jungle and cover, "It doesn't matter now, Jeanne. We're in God's hands now, cherie.

With about 50 yards to go to reach the safety of the jungle for Jeanne and Jack, the topmost dynamite blew 200 feet above them, and the main antenna briefly sagged and wavered, but then toppled over and began picking up speed like giant javelin. An instant later the twin sticks of dynamite severed the guy wires and it was like a blossom of death as the cables blew outward and downward. The macabre spectacle of the destruction of the immense structure played out further. Like a gigantic zipper being pulled open, the sequence of timed fuses and dynamite all went off fractions of seconds one after another all the way to the ground.

The dozen or so enormous sequential explosions went off like machine gun fire, but were louder even than the loudest thunderclaps. The cacophony echoed across the jungle. Animals stampeded and called out in terror, and thousands of birds were flushed from their nests.

Right after the explosions tore the tower in multiple pieces they could hear the unearthly metallic shrieking and groaning sounds of the severed, melted, and bent structure as it collapsed on itself. Inexorably, the great tower ruptured all along its weakest points, and then dropped quickly to the ground.

To accentuate the destruction, the dynamite placed the blockhouse, generator, and the highly flammable diesel fuel exploded. An enormous hellish red and black fireball rose up and engulfed the structure that was itself falling apart and falling down through the conflagration. A deafening hemispherical shock wave shook everything as it expanded outward in its condensation pattern.

The stabilizing cables that had been severed from the top under tremendous tension flailed and writhed like living snakes as they fell, and anything or anyone they would hit would be ripped apart.

Jack and Jeanne kept running as fast as they could toward the jungle, keeping low, holding their ears against the horrific noise. One wire whizzed over their heads as the pair were actually blown off their feet flying forward, propelled by the initial shock wave of the blockhouse concussion into a deep ditch well short of the jungle perimeter with a high berm to protect them. Had they been full-sized adults the cable would have decapitated them. Jack enveloped his girl in his arms to protect her deep in the cavity of the ditch, and they closed their eyes tightly praying for protection so close to the explosions and collapsing tower.

Tarzan and Armand were too heads down to even see if the children were safe. No one dared raise their heads or look. The destruction was far worse than they could have possibly predicted. Metal, cement fragments, shrapnel of all sizes, and flaming masses of combustible materials, including sections of the frame accelerated by the massive diesel fuel explosion ripped through the air slicing through trees, saplings, vines, shrubs, stems and trunks. The concrete shards and metal pieces from the diesel engine flew over their heads unimpeded by the clearing and cut all the greenery for 50 feet into the jungle like a scythe blade, denuding the rain forest's edge all around the clearing. A bamboo grove was instantly sliced and felled by a big section of the tower, and even bigger pieces of the radiotelegraph embedded themselves in the largest tropical tree trunks and severed huge branches. Tops of palms were clipped clean.

The scars of this demolition would linger for years.

One unfortunate Frenchman who had dared to stand behind a tree for cover rather than lay down was completely shredded as the tree disintegrated in front of him, spraying what was left of him all over his fully prone fellows, sickening them with his grisly demise.

…

In the valley below, Bryant and Maroix and even the remaining German soldiers turned from their intense fighting for a moment and shielded their eyes to observe the spectacle. It was like the sun had come to earth it was so bright with the roiling explosion. Even through the thick smoke and fire, they saw the radio mast fall in many pieces.

"Merde," Maroix cursed standing in the town below. The radiotelegraph would have been his prize possession of the battle.

The leader of the Togoland invasion worried that the Supreme Commander of all French Forces would be very upset that he couldn't capture the radiotelegraph before the Germans had sabotaged it from falling into British and French control. But he didn't know the real story. In point of fact, the General would be secretly grateful that Armand got the job done just in time and would separately reward both men for their service and sacrifices, but neither would be in the same room at the same time nor ever know that each would be honored for the different but necessary roles each played in the Battle of Togoland.

Seeing the monstrous fireball above the hill in the distance from what was left of their modest City Hall, the German Principal Administrator to the dead Mayor of Kamina made a big decision. He looked for a white handkerchief to put on his cane, pulled out his fountain pen from underneath the desk under which he was hiding, and with a shaky hand, entitled his last letter as Administrator: "Unconditional Surrender of Togoland to the Nations of France and England."

…

The hell on earth that marked the annihilation of the German radiotelegraph seemed to continue forever. Concussions, after-explosions, mid-air collisions and ground impacts of the pieces of the tower continued to rock the land everywhere. Big metal chunks of the tower stuck out from massive tree trunks or had felled the trees like ten pins. The children continued to cower in the ditch, as a rain of very small debris coated them. Jeanne finally could not hold in her fears any longer and screamed, but her cries were lost in the din of destruction. Only by God's grace did large pieces and flames from the devastation pass over them and fall and lodge elsewhere on the grounds of the station. Had they not been blown into the ditch, they would have suffered the same fate as the French soldier.

But finally the energy of the destruction dissipated. The antenna was reduced to piles of twisted or melted junk spread over hundreds of yards in all directions. The radio station transmitter blockhouse was a pile of concrete rubble and small pieces of useless electronics. None of the remains of the radio operators could be seen. A cloud of acrid gases and fuel-fed flames continued to burn and soared into the sky marking the funeral pyre of the once-impressive feat of German engineering.

That station would never operate again for the German armed forces, or for anyone else, which was the entire point of Armand's secret mission.

When it was clear that the extent of the destruction was over, the surviving French Forces, Tarzan, Jeanne, and Jack slowly emerged from their cover, and stood to look at carnage the likes of which they never imagined. They were very few in number. Of the 20 or so that departed Nigeria, there were less than a dozen, including the children. The entire jungle perimeter surrounding the tower was shredded, uprooted, and splintered. The acrid gunpowder and stench of diesel was pervasive, mixed with the smell of burnt electronics and wires. The grassy field that once held the tower was blackened and scorched in numerous places, and some lingering grass fires continued. The entire area resembled a battlefield in Europe, fortunately not littered with corpses.

Jeanne and Jack stood near the ditch, dirty from it and the powdery debris, but aside from the grazing gunshot flesh wound, they were relatively unhurt, and smiled at each other that they had somehow survived the entire experience, closer than anyone to the annihilation. Jeanne cupped Jack's face gently and silently in her hands, turned her head a little, and gave him a sweet, tender kiss, and smiled at him. They embraced. The fathers did nothing to stop the moment, and knew now was not the time. There was no doubt these two adored each other.

She ran her fingers through his dreads, and smiled at him, "You did it Jack. I'm so proud of you."

Jack's simple reply was, "I wouldn't have done it without you."

She always blushed at his praise, "Well maybe so, cheri. But look at you, Jack, you're hurt."

"It's OK," he shrugged.

"No it isn't," she scolded.

She quickly gathered the right combination of nearby leaves and herbs and made her first jungle healing poultice for his shoulder. It was very soothing to him.

"Ahhh. Thank you, Mangani girl," he praised and she blushed.

Their safe place was a considerable distance from the others, but the Frenchmen and their fathers gathered around them quickly.

The men were amazed at the children's skills, teamwork, and their feelings for each other.

Ignoring any military protocols, the Colonel embraced and hugged his happy daughter tightly, and sincerely congratulated and apologized to Jack, "Congratulations Viscount Clayton. You and Jeanne are true heroes! I am very sorry I was so harsh on you earlier. I know you children wanted to help, and you won the battle! You're as good as any demolition expert as I have ever known, Viscount. Especially the one we lost on the Victoire. When you're old enough, we could use you in the French Special Forces, young man."

Armand was serious, but they all laughed.

Jack gave a grin with the compliment, "Thank you sir. But… we might have to check with my dad on that."

"And the King of England," smirked Tarzan.

"And me!" Jeanne said sternly and emphatically with her fists on her dark-skinned hips for emphasis.

Armand smiled, laughed and ruffled Jeanne's long hair with her strong insistence on getting her permission on anything related to Jack, "Yes, of course, sweetheart."

Jack appreciated Armand's open praise, but there was another matter that needed settling, "We won, but I deserved your anger, Colonel Jacot. I am very sorry I put Jeanne and me in danger. But we had too."

The Colonel agreed, "Yes, Viscount. I understand. And you both did admirably."

The older man shook the young man's hand vigorously.

Despite the extreme discomfort in his leg, Tarzan scooped both children up, propped one in each of his arms, and hugged them. There was quite a contrast in the feeling of Jeanne's soft skin and Jack's hard-toned muscles. She loved Tarzan's embrace, her first from him, and put her arms around him hugging him back. For a moment, Jeanne knew that Jack would someday become as strong and chiseled his father.

Tarzan smiled and commented, "I hate to admit this, but I'm really glad now you children disobeyed. As you proved in Nigeria, you did much better on that tower than I would have. Smaller and younger was better in this case, son."

Jack beamed with his father's praise, but suppressed a desire to say 'I told you so, Father'.

He put each child back on the ground, and they stood with their fathers.

Armand reminded them, "We are very grateful, kids, but you are both going to be disciplined when we get back to the treehouse."

Jeanne and Jack were kind of hoping their fathers would conveniently forget about their original act of disobedience that let them save the mission.

Armand noted, "Viscount, you were incredible against the sniper, dodging him on the tower. You could teach my men a thing or two about protection tactics from snipers."

Jack was pleased, but humbly noted, "Well maybe, Colonel Jacot, but I wouldn't have lasted much longer, and I'd be in that pile of rubble now. I am grateful that you and your men saved me. Who do I have to thank for saving my life?"

There was a really awkward silence.

No one moved, until Armand cleared his throat and said, "Uh… Viscount, it wasn't any of us."

He gently pushed his daughter a little closer to Jack, and she gave modest, shy smile to her boyfriend. Jack's eyes opened wide and he felt Jeanne's blush, "Jeanne? You?"

She looked at the ground and scuffed her bare toes in the dirt, "Yes, Jack. Me."

Jack hugged her emphatically and spun her around. No one stopped him in his joy and gratitude, which he followed with a sweet kiss, "I owe you my life, chere copine."

She blushed deeper with the praise, "Jack, no more than I owe you mine that first day. Somewhere I heard someone I know say, 'Family protects family'."

It was Jack's turn to blush, "Well… yeah, well, about that…"

They gave each other that special look, and that was enough, but took each other's hands gently.

Tarzan, thought it was finally a good time to interrupt, "Sorry you two, but we're unprotected here. Let's go to the forest. Our work here is done. Maroix will get here soon. We must leave now. He's going to want to know who did this."

Jack observed, "Major Maroix thinks the Germans did it to keep it from the French and British. Let's make sure he keeps thinking that."

"We'll make a soldier out of you yet, son," the Colonel complimented Jack and everyone knew he said 'son' deliberately, making Jeanne blush contentedly.

…

Karl-Heinz and Gunter were emerging from a hidden defilade of heavy logs, further back in the jungle, but near where the French were gathering to go home.

Gunter stood up, dusted himself off, and asked, "Karl-Heinz, are you all right?"

They were coated in the same powder and dust the kids and the Frenchmen were. They had both survived also.

"I could be better," he complained, pulling some small metal splinters from his arm with a grimace, and brushing ash and dust from his clothing.

They could see before them the vast destruction of the radiotelegraph and the surrounding jungle. It was worse than they could even imagine. They were seething in anger over the total destruction they saw. There was absolutely nothing salvageable.

"They will pay for this," Karl-Heinz said through gritted teeth.

"What are you going to do?" asked Gunter.

"What do you think?" Karl-Heinz said holding up the rucksack. "All our investment money sunk into that station is gone. We are absolutely ruined. And no money coming in our coffers since no messages are coming in. All because of the ape man and his French buddies. And those two blasted kids. Lovebirds, too. Did you see?"

"I did."

"They are all too happy. I have an idea. They will never be happy again."

They discussed the idea, and agreed.

"Then what?" asked Gunter.

"You'll see. We're going to get our money back courtesy the French and British Armies."

Gunter observed, "They are all celebrating their victory, Karl-Heinz. It's the perfect time while their guard is down."

"Let's go then. Quietly."

The remaining French Special Forces were gathering their gear and their guns were holstered or slung over their shoulders. They had already taken care to hide or cover the dead German and French soldiers from the fighting earlier so that Maroix would find no evidence of them here. And if he did it would be a complete mystery.

There was an unnatural noise which caused Tarzan to turn instantly and started sniffing the air.

Armand heard it too and asked, "What was that?"

"I don't know and I don't like it," Tarzan dropped a backpack and started to reach for his knife. A sharp pain went through his leg, just to hold his offensive 'ready' position. That slug had to come out soon, no matter how painful.

From only yards away, they saw the radio operator rise up and Karl-Heinz who screamed at them in German, "Revenge!"

Everyone was shocked that they were even alive. They frantically reached for their weapons.

Before anyone could do anything to stop them, Gunter and Karl-Heinz threw the grenades from the sack, put some odd masks on their faces, and dropped into to the foliage and rolled away from their positions to avoid any knives or gunfire.

All the grenades landed in the midst of the allies and they couldn't react in time to flee.

"Grenades! Get down!" shouted Armand.

But they were not explosive. A sickly looking gray-green gas erupted from the grenades with an awful hissing sound, bloomed into a huge cloud, and quickly surrounded them.

"Mon Dieu! Gas! Get up! Get out!" Armand managed to scream.

It was already too late. Instantly, everyone became dizzy and lightheaded, and started falling as they tried to stand. They were all too weak to run from the cloud because it expanded too fast.

Colonel Jacot was already on his knees, but tried to hold his breath to gather and scatter the grenades in a last effort to save his daughter. They were too hot to touch, and he lacked the strength as he was overcome. He sagged further to the jungle floor like the rest of his fellows. Tarzan had fallen on his back, already blacked out, weakened by the gunshot, and having gotten a lungful of the gas from a grenade that landed right in front of him, and the kids were struggling to crawl away.

Of all the horrible weapons that had been developed for use in the World War, the French intelligence Service's knowledge of German poison gas and chemical weapon technology was by far the most chilling and most inhumane way to kill the enemy en masse. And already it was here in Africa.

Armand struggled against his worst nightmare. He heard of stories of the excruciating mustard gas and chlorine gas, and of finding soldiers burned up from inside out, leaving only biological goo that was a man's body after exposure and itself toxic. Burning was the only safe way to destroy any remains.

It was too late, but Armand thought it strange that he had no pain, and he thought of his family as he blacked out. The kids were succumbing to the gas too, even though they were a little further away.

The children fell prostrate on the ground, barely able to touch each other's hands, and tears streamed from Jeanne's face as she cried, "I'm sorry Jack. I know this is the end. I love you."

"I… I love you too. See you in heaven, Jeanne."

Jonathan Robert Clayton IV and Jeanne Marie Jacot lapsed into unconsciousness like all the others as they were all engulfed in the opaque gray green cloud.

…

Authors Notes: Oh dear. Have we come all this way for them all to die right after their stunning victory?