The Klitchko War: Battle for New Chicago Chapter 4
All of a sudden, someone beside captain Young was blown backward by gunfire. Both armies were now in range. "All troops fire at will! Snipers, take out those buggies before they detonate!" This was the moment for Young to change history, and he was not about to let it escape his grasp. Young and his comrades near him lay flat on their stomachs and continued to shoot toward the dangerously close Soviet soldiers. The captain was an excellent marksman but for every Klitchko he shot down, three more took its place. There were just too many of them to hold off. Within ten minutes, Young had emptied all the ammo in his pack.
"Vargas, stay here and take care of the troops, I need to get some more ammo!" Young shouted to a soldier beside him. But before Lieutenant Vargas could even answer, he was blown backwards by a parasitic bullet, the only signs of his face being two eye sockets. The captain quickly turned away in disgust. The site of his comrade's face was too gruesome even for a commander. Slowly, Young turned his head to face Vargas' dead body. The carcass which had already began to smell revealed a red mess with two holes where eyes should have been. Young slowly eased the rifle from the cadaver and detached the ammo clips from Vargas' belt. Although his ammo had been replenished, the captain would rather have trekked back to the supply area than witness a fellow soldier die. He mournfully stood back up and headed for the shallow trenches, his boots and hands stained with blood. Still, Vargas was not the only casualty of battle. As the captain looked around, he saw others who had been grotesquely mutated by the Klitchkos' horrific weapons. The commander quickly moved on without glancing twice at the dead corpses, hoping that he would not join them in battle. As he got closer to the makeshift trench, the frequent whizzing of bullets forced him to crawl on the bloodstained grounds. "I need some cover Private!" Young shouted toward the nearest soldier. He obediently nodded and fired several bursts toward the enemy. At last, Young reached the trench and radioed in to his subordinate commanders for a status report.
"Sir, my whole division has been killed. Those sons of bitches detonated a buggy write next to us," a lieutenant reported. The situation seemed grim as Young received report after report of mounting casualties. Feeling hopeless, Young was just about to head toward the latest distress signal when a red light flickered on his HUD. The light soon expanded to show a picture of a young soldier by the name of Lieutenant Jeffery Daniels.
"Sir, my division needs assistance. The Klitchko have blasted through the city wall and are most likely en route to the communication beacons. Sir, requesting back-up now." Young knew his army was fighting a losing battle, but his primal instincts enjoined him to keep fighting. He relegated his pessimistic thoughts and turned his attention to the most recent problem.
"Backup is arriving shortly Lieutenant, hold your ground as long as possible,"
"Copy that sir," The voice transmission stopped abruptly. Knowing that troops usually signaled at the end of a transmission, Captain Young immediately sensed something wrong. Feeling a greater sense of urgency, the commander began to shout at the closest soldier next to him, trying to get his attention. Only when he saw the broken microphone dangling from the helmet on a dead soldier did he realize that he was still wearing his communication headset. He silently berated himself for being so inept and quickly turned on his headset to rally others to him. Contrary to his last attempt to gain attention, four soldiers immediately responded and gathered around him. Five people would be hardly enough to stop a platoon, let alone a whole army. Yet, time was short and Young feared that Daniels was already dead.
After giving his small special operations group a hasty briefing, the group spread out to collect supplies from their dead comrades, all the while avoiding the sprays of enemy fire. Young was fortunate enough to still have most of his grenades and only needed a few extra clips for his standard issue rifle. Finding equipment proved to be fairly easy since much of the army was lying on the sand, missing an appendage. Although finding ammunition and grenades seemed was an easy task, retrieving the items was a gruesome ordeal. The captain and his four other squad mates were forced to look upon the ghastly carcasses that littered the ground, even moving them when necessary.
Young picked through several cadavers before he was reminded of time. He picked up his last clip of 11mm plasma bullets and called the others through his headset, remembering his previous folly. The captain knew that every second mattered in a situation of life and death, so as to make-up for the time he spent foraging for equipment, he sprinted towards the city walls. Near the large gates of the city, the commander again rendezvoused with his makeshift squad. Each took a few seconds to snap their ammo snugly into their rifles and quickly proceeded into the city.
"Alright kids, I want all rifles at the ready. You never know when the Soviets will pop up," Young ordered, unaware that all of his squad mates were at least five years his senior. None the less, his troops responded with a surprising "yes, sir!" The captain slowly turned around to inspect his team. He soon realized that all four of them, Sergeant Smith, Private Reyes, Warrant Officer Price, and Corporal Brown were top of their class. These men were actual soldiers, well trained, determined, and the only ones who were reckless enough to accept a useless mission as this. His team looked back at him and nodded. Young was suddenly relieved to be facing the odds against the Klitchko. He knew that his subordinates would follow his every command to the death and without question. This was the army he was meant to lead.
With another nod from the captain, the elite five moved quickly toward the missing Lieutenant Daniels. The passage through the city was not as easy as Young had expected. Recent combat in the now desolate city had littered carcasses and rubble in front of them.
After several minutes of stealthily walking near cover, the team reached the building where Daniels was last located. The HUD flashed a red "x" and signaled the arrival of the destination. Immediately, the team sprang into action as if on cue. Young's experienced team members needed no lessons on breaching a building. Four of the five squeezed themselves onto the wall while Reyes kicked the door down. He instinctively moved out of the way and the others fired several blind shots into the doorway.
"Secure, Sir!" Reyes reported.
"Alright, Brown and I have left. Smith and Price take the right," Young ordered. The team sprang into action and suddenly filled the doorway, two facing the left hallway and two facing the right hallway. A dead silence followed as each person took time to analyze his surroundings. The dark hallway stretched on several yards in both directions with doors every few feet. Through the stagnant air, Young read "Sylvester Hotels". He silently motioned toward the sign and his squad understood why there were so many rooms.
The team soon moved out of the open doorway and followed their leader down the right hall to Daniels' exact location. The stagnant air that filled the hotel made everyone's breath short and they soon had to stop near a corner. All of them would need to take a rest every few yards if these air conditions persisted. Just as the very fingers of doubt were taking another grasp on them, Corporal Brown reached into his pack and pulled out several air purifiers. The squad silently accepted the small nose plugs without a sound of relief, but they all knew that they had narrowly avoided their first complication. Young and the others hastily stuffed a purifier into each nostril and inhaled some much needed fresh air.
The five soldiers continued to move through the dilapidated hotel cautiously, each one covering the other's blind spots. The team soon approached Daniel's exact location. Peering past a corner, Captain Young could see a long, dark hall with only one door at the end. He made a subtle gesture for the others to move forward and stood ready with his gun barrel pointed directly at the door. When all of his squad mates had reached the hall safely, he also moved towards the door without a sound.
"Reyes, cover our backs," Young whispered to the private. He immediately acknowledged the order and raised his rifle. Making sure that no one was behind him, the captain reached behind and unfastened a thin, black tube. He slowly slipped the tube underneath the door and quietly pressed a button on his helmet. His HUD immediately filled with light and a slightly distorted video feed appeared. Through the tube, the captain saw a dark room with only a poster bed and a window. While still looking at his HUD, Young shifted the tube a few degrees. Suddenly, he withdrew the tube and put two fingers to his mouth, the rest of his body extremely tense. Two Klitchko guards were resting on the other side of the room, completely unaware that five experienced soldiers were about to kill them. The team prepared to breach and enter, this time with hostiles on the other side. Adrenaline coursed through each soldier, giving them the energy they needed to do something this dangerous.
In an instant, the half sleeping guards were jolted awake by the sound of the crashing door followed by the ominous roll of a grenade. Before the Klitchko soldiers could even react, they were blinded by a piercing light and fell backwards with a scream. The grey concrete floor was soon stained with blood as the Soviet guards met their last moments. The surprise attackers quietly slipped into the room as if nothing had happened a minute before.
Young moved around the room, searching for any signs of the missing Daniels. Just as he was bending down to look under the bed, Corporal Brown interrupted his search.
"Daniels is dead sir," Brown reported as he let the unconscious soldier fall limp. The late Daniels lay half leaning against the wall, his right leg missing. "Cause of death, loss of blood sir." Captain Young let out an exasperated sigh and looked up towards the ceiling half expecting an answer. As the leader of any group, it was his responsibility for the ones who perished under his command. After a few moments of silence, the disheartened team began to compose themselves. Although they had lost a loyal lieutenant, the battle was not over. Each soldier took this brief intermission and checked their equipment. Young's HUD indicated that his rifle and back pistol were still full with ammo. As he waited for the others to reload and put on silencers, the captain recalled his earlier at West Point. The teachers there had taught him to think as a commander, not like the scrawny grandmother waiting back in Britain for her late grandson. His mouth slowly spread into a slight grin, the first smile he'd had in a few weeks.
Knocked out of his pleasant memories by the click of several ammo clips, Captain Young looked towards his soldiers as a commander.
"As it appears, the Klitchko still haven't been able to disable our communications," the captain tapped his headset one more time to check, "but if anyone knows them, they will break in soon. Let's evacuate this hotel and intercept to Klitchko before they take control." The four others nodded and immediately crouched into position, heading out the door. However, before they could even turn the next hallway, loud footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Each soldier readied their guns instinctively and stood motionless with five barrels pointed toward the stairs. The foreboding steps slowly grew louder and louder, like an oncoming train. Suddenly, a grenade rolled down the steps, hitting each concrete slab with a baleful ping. Before the grenade hit the last step, the dismayed team of special operations soldiers dove behind the corner. Suddenly, the walls in front of them splintered into bits and flew toward them accompanied by the deafening roar in the background. The captain was blown several feet backwards and hit the opposite wall with a painful thud. Knowing that enemies would follow the attack, Young immediately sprang up, ignoring his stomach pains. He shouted into the headset for the others to get back into the room and bolted toward the door himself. Several seconds later, three battered soldiers collapsed in the doorway, all groaning from injuries. Young quickly pushed the door closed just as the three crawled through.
Outside the room, there was a dead silence. The once foreboding footsteps now seemed like a figment of their imagination. However, just as the injured bodies relaxed their grips on their rifles, a loud knock came from the other side. The door rattled a bit and small particles of dust floated to the ground. Another knock, this time even stronger reminded them that time was running out. Young looked around the room frantically for anything that would be of any use. All of a sudden, his gaze fell on the small window hanging just above the bed. The others looked toward the window too. Young and the others stood straight and ran for the cramped window just as another loud knock collided with the weakening door. With the butt of his rifle, Warrant Officer Price slammed the glass. The fragile shards broke off easily and the four jumped out onto the firm ground. Behind them, the doors gave way and several green uniforms ran inside. Young and the others ducked underneath the window and raised their rifles, firing blindly into the small room. After unloading a full clip each, the wary soldiers slowly rose and peered into the window. Five Klitchko soldiers lay lifeless at the entrance of the door, their limp bodies stacked on top of each other. Around them, the walls were riddled with bullet holes. Temporarily relieved, the team moved toward the center of the city all the while staying alert. Another close encounter might kill a much needed team member.
Suddenly, Young looked backwards toward his team. There were only three pairs of eyes looking intently back at him. After a few seconds of silence, the rest realized what had happened. In the chaos of battle, Private Reyes had been left behind. Thoughts reeled through the captain's mind as he tried to remember the last time he saw the private. With a myriad of thoughts still running through his mind, Young doubled back and ran for the crumbling hotel. The usually proud commander bowed his head down in shame, focusing his eyes on the dry dust that blanketed the ground. Suddenly, a drop of water fell to the ground and the captain stopped. Soon the taste of salt overwhelmed Young. With his back still toward his comrades, the captain forcefully swallowed his frustration, wiped the dirty tears form his eyes, and walked back toward his team. The rest of the team sympathized with their commander's emotions and followed him without any question.
The streets that the team traversed through were narrow and curved like the serpentine body of a snake. This along with the hundreds of windows facing the streets forced the weary travelers to shake off any symptoms of fatigue and scan each window for hostile contacts. After several hours of sneaking around the dilapidated city, the quartet had only put four miles between themselves and the hotel. Young knew his soldiers were wearing thin as he sat down inside a doorway to rub his punished thighs. The others followed him inside the drab building and sat near the door to rest. However, just as they were beginning to slip into a state of complacency, they heard distant shouts of Russian. Each soldier immediately snapped out of the aimless thoughts that wandered their minds and knelt down in a battle ready position.
"Проклятые американцы, Когда я нахожу один, я разорву их обособленно непосредственно!" The sounds of Russian curses advanced slowly, giving Young and his team plenty of time to prepare. From the casual tone of the conversation, it seemed that the Klitchko guards were unaware of the American presence inside the city. The prediction meant two things: either the Klitchko had already exterminated the bait, or they hadn't found them yet. A quick check from his HUD disproved his former theory and showed that all communications networks were online. When he returned his attention to the advancing footsteps, he realized that they had gotten surprisingly louder. The Soviets must be around the corner. With a gesture from his hand, he ordered the rest of his team to cover him. Then, without warning, the young commander jumped from cover and ran into the middle of the street, scanning for the oblivious guards. To his dismay, the Soviets were nowhere to be seen. Confused, Young looked toward Smith, Price, and Brown. The three subordinates looked at him confused as well. Suddenly, the two Klitchko guards sprang up from a row of garbage containers and quickly sprayed the team with piercing rounds. Luckily, the captain saw the attackers out of the corner of his eye and jumped behind a building. The concrete wall next to him was shredded into thousands of pieces as the unrelenting metal continued to pelt it.
"Brown, Smith, give me some covering fire! Price, get a grenade in there!" The captain shouted into his headset, not realizing that it was only a few inches away from his mouth. He expected gun shots from across the street and a resounding explosion, but nothing happened. Five seconds later, still no response. "Shit," the commander cursed under his loud breaths as he read the HUD display. A red signal flickered on the thin screen, indicating that communications networks were down.
Young stood still, leaning against the wall. After a few seconds, his breathing had died down, but he still didn't move. The persistent "communication failure" signal continued to flash in front of the petrified captain. He waited for another five seconds and heard the horrific gunshots that had occupied his mind for the past minutes. Young winced, knowing that his fellow soldiers had just been executed.
As the exhausted captain leaned against the wall, a deep sense of helplessness overwhelmed him. Everyone in the military that he cared for had been brutally murdered, leaving him to suffer the gruesome casualties of war. The captain slowly eased himself onto the ground and felt the energy being sapped from his body. Unaware of the footsteps that were fast approaching, the sleep deprived man fell into a restless slumber.