This is posted at JB's miniburger, but hell It took me ages to get it together so i'm posting it here. To those who don't now in John Birminghams "Without Warning" a mysterious energy wave wipes out most of the CONUS. France falls into civil war and it is there this story takes place....
Sur la Plage
Part 1: Insertion
April 2003
The camouflaged AS532 Cougar scudded low over the acid rain bleached fields bordering the Loire estuary. Nantes smoke blackened skyline faded into the springs early dusk. Normally at this time of year the evening would be warm and long. Now the ever present thick poisonous cloud cover cast an overbearing pall over the countryside.
Carl rested his head against the throbbing fuselage of the chopper, thinking of the team’s recent foray into the no-mans land of Nantes. The forces of First Citizen Sarkozy and ‘les Loyalistes’ had battled over the strategic (and historic city) for over a fortnight now with no real gain on either side. Increasingly his R.A.I.D. team (Groupe D’Intervention Deux) had found themselves pitted against a team from the Gendarmerie Nationals’ elite GIGN. The last clash on the route leading to the now ruined airport, had left the team short of two men. One of whom was the team leader Lieutenant Gerard Juppé. Lt Gerard had died in the field hospital whilst the team were receiving their latest mission briefing and it fell to Carl as Le Chef to see things through.
Checking over the team he could see Philippe, the baby of the team (at only 28) looking at a dog-eared photo of his wife. She had been on holiday with her parents when the world was turned on it’s head and the USA had effectively ceased to exist. He noticed Philippe gently touch the image of his wife’s face before placing the picture in his black BDU’s and start re-checking his gear. Philippe along with the other dead team member Christoff were the team’s scouts and this would put added pressure on the young man to perform.
Seated next to Philippe, Alan and Jules the teams’ designated snipers were also checking their gear and trying to talk over the sound of the rotors. Alain the older of the two probably still trying to convince Jules of the advantages of marriage, well after all he was in the throws of the end of his second. Considering all the shot going on in the world Carl thought that Alan would be better of trying to stay with Claudette especially as her family owned a farm outside of Limoges.
Andre and Alexander the two heavy weapon specialists sat opposite each other. Andre was asleep and Alex was throwing little rolled up pieces of paper into the sleepers lap. This was quite genteel compared with the usual level of practical jokes the two played not only on each other but on the other members of the team.
Across from Carl, Charles the lanky Parisian from the 16th was listening to his iPod, arguably the teams best pistol shot he was also a classical pianist by training and to this day Carl could not understand why Charles had joined the Police National. Next to him sat Simon the team’s entry specialist who leant across towards Carl.
“Chef, couldn’t they have just got the air force to run a strike?”
“Apparently not, it seems that they can’t guarantee a strike package to be around. The Atlantique that’s shadowing the boat is out of antiship weapons. So we’ve got to make sure no-one jumps ship.” Replied Carl
“Do you think that’s why those bastards from Satory have gone there to welcome however is on the ship, ashore? Couldn’t they have got a tank group to help out?”
“Simon, there’s no-one else around” said Carl with a small sigh “It’s just us, but we won’t fail eh?”
‘Oui Chef, server sans faillir” said Simon.
The sound of the units’ motto broke into the reverie of the others and they all chanted
“Oui Chef! Server sans Faillir!”
The chant broke through the crust of scar tissue that the weeks of combat and the loss of their team leader had built up. For the first time in over a fortnight Carl could see something more than resigned fate in their eyes.
The intercom buzzed and the internal lights turned red.
Carl stood up
“Okay my friends, we are five minutes out. Get your gear in final readiness. Remember if these are the same team that cost us the lieutenant and Christoff, we don’t need any baggage”
“Oui Chef” roared back the team as they got to making their final checks.
The next few minutes flew by and the chopper made a number of direction changes to confuse any watchers on the ground. It finally flared out landing softly next to the small parc at the junction of Ave du Baulois and Chenin du pont Saillant. The team disembarked quickly and the chopper quickly departed. Once the rotor washed had lessened the team formed a elongated diamond pattern whilst Philippe cleared the way onto the railway line.
The cloud cover meant that the evening was dark and brooding with little in the way of birdsong or insect noises that you would associated with this coastal region. Only the lease and rear team members equipped their PNVG’s as there was still enough light to march to. So slowly and carefully the team made their way down the track to La Baule.
The march seemed to take for ever even though at 10kms it would take just only a couple of hours. Even in the darkness the damage caused by the wave of pollution carried by the jet stream form the United States was clear. Trees that should now be covered in bright leaves were barren husks. The grass should have been dark but were almost a pale imitation so pale in fact that it almost glowed in the darkness. As the team silently passed by the Parc des Dryades it looked like a scene from Bergman’s “Seventh Seal”
Suddenly heavy gunfire could be heard to the north, causing the team the freeze and fade into the background as best they could. The odd roar of a cannon (whether artillery or form a tank it was uncertain) counter pointed the rattle of smaller calibre weaponry.
Alan whispered in Carls ear
“Regular army?”
Carl shoke his head
“It sounds like it’s coming from Guérande, I think there were reports of some deserters from l‘Armee de Terre holed up there, so maybe they’ve been assaulted by the GN armoured units. Anyway it’s nothing to do with us let’s move on”
He carefully made his way over to Philippe.
“Philippe, be extra cautious, if there are deserters in the area it will make our job harder” he whispered
“Oui Chef” replied the young agent, Carl patted him on the shoulder and the team restarted their march into the town.
It was close to 22:00 hrs by the time the men came close to the railway station, a cold wind was coming off the Atlantic rushing down the town’s streets cooling the men’s now sweaty BDU’s making them even more uncomfortable. Alexander was half turning to keep his Minimi SPW trained on the upper floor of the four storey house across the tracks when there was a flat crack and there was a spray of arterial blood as a high velocity bullet ripped out his through.
As the tall southerner dropped to his knees a raged fusillade of gun fire started to rain in on the team. As far as Carl and his mean could tell all the shots were coming form the station. The RAID team returned fire as best they could from what was a lower and quite poor position. Coming in was mainly FAMAS gun fire with some 9mm rounds and a few 7.62 shots that could have been coming from a semi automatic rifle due to rapidity of the shots. The outgoing fire was placed in short bursts with the team relying on their night vision gear to maintain accuracy.
The team had quickly dropped to the sides of the rail line trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible amongst the straggly weeds and the usual detritus you find on railway lines everywhere. Alan and Jules managed to get themselves behind a pile of concrete sleepers and started to unship their rifles.
Carl understood that they had to keep the pressure on whoever was ambushing them and he waved forward his mean suddenly realising that that marked him out just as many of the shots suddenly seemed to be coming his way!
Charles, Philippe and Simon used that change in priorities to make a flanking manoeuvre to the left and the carpark fence (which was pretty wrecked). Philippe and Simon got through and easily merged with the burnt out car wrecks that dotted the car park. Charles however was obviously seen just as he tried to get through, and a hail of automatic fire reached towards him. It was not a good time to get caught on the fencing, and sensing that he was done for, Charles flipped his G36 onto full auto and emptied the assault rifles magazine towards the stations windows just as two streams of FAMAS fire caught him. The hail of bullets slammed him against the wire fencing entangling him further, leaving him to flap weakly as his blood pooled around him.
By now Jules and Alan had unshipped their rifles and .50 and .338 sniper fire was accurately targeting their opposition resulting in a dramatic falling off of incoming fire. Relived that he was no longer the centre of attention Carl realised that he had no idea where all his men were or what some of them were doing. Cursing he switched on his comms gear.
“…careful he’s looking out..he’s gone.. move to by the fire hose”
“Got it, I’m here, I’ve got the whole front covered you can move up”
Recognising Philippe and Simons voices
“Boy’s what going on?”
“Chef keep you voice down!” replied Simon “Your worse than my mother!”
There was a chuckle Philippe answered
“We’re at the front boss getting ready to breach. Looks like three of them left.”
Before carl could command them to hold
“Okay we’re both here, breaching now the bastard’s will pay”
Two frag grenade blasts roared out form the ground floor of the station, the flashes almost overriding the gain controls of the teams PNVG’s
There were three more bursts of automatic fire then silence.
Philippe’s voice came over the comms.
“All clear come on in”
Cautiously the remaining members of the team entered into the station. Necver the prettiest of buildings la Baule’s station was now a semi ruin embellished with the ruinous effect of modern firearms. The ticket hall stank of blood, shit and cordite. The small café and station offices were in similar poor condition. It did not take long to police the site and without being ordered the two snipers had taken positions to cover the area. The dead quickly gave up their secrets and it seemed that their attackers had been deserters. They recovered 3 FAMAS, a MP5, an old MAT SMG and two MAS-49’s which should have been in a museum.
The rest of the team gathered together in the station office.
“Right this is not good, we’ve lost Charles and Alexander to these losers, but we’ve got to push on to the deployment site. It’s only a couple of hundred meters down the Avenue De Lattre De Tassigny.”
He paused awaiting the expected response which came from Simon
“Can’t we just request evac?”
“Simon you know the answer better than I do, no evac for at least another 6 houses, I want you and Philippe to collect and ammo we can use and head to the DP. Andre and I will secure Charles and Alexander’s bodies. Alan will go with you and Philippe to secure the DP. Jules can supply Andre and I with overwatch then we’ll come to the DP.”
Carl let out a short hollow laugh.
“Before I forget again keep you’re comms on we’ll use channel 7, let move so we can get some rest before the next data dump.”
The first half of the team took only 10 minutes to get ready and then they were off moving down the road to the Hotel des Dunes. It took Carl and Andre longer to find a storeroom that they could secure place the corpses of their dead comrades plus the weapons recovered form the deserters, and then booby trap the place. Then shouldering Charles’ G36, and Alexanders LMG as well as their spare ammo, Carl Andre and Jules slowly made their way down the Avenue De Lattre De Tassigny passing in front of the Hotel Marini whose white faced was now severely blackened from the fire which had wrecked it.
The DP was quickly set up in the 2nd floor of the Hotel des Dunes and they were only 30 minutes behind schedule. The data dump from their HQ at Bievres came in 25 minutes later.
To be continued……
Part 2 La Plage
The recent unrest had left some parts of the hotel curiously unscarred. The ground floor had been fairly well ransacked as had the first floor rooms. But the upper floors (except for some graffiti and odd bits of mindless vandalism) had been left pretty much intact.
Jules took a position on the upper floor and Alan took occupancy of the top floor of a small apartment building about 50 meters back up towards the railway station to give the team a full field of fire. That building had been pretty well gutted but the fire escape to the rear allowed the agile sniper easy access to the roof terrace.
Meanwhile the team secured their floor with a few surprises whilst Andre groused about their equipment levels
“I can’t believe we’ve barely got enough explosives to cover this place. What happens if we needs this gear later on?”
Simon just laughed
“we’ll get Philippe to run back and get it, the youngster needs to burn off his energy!”
This drew a few laughs from the others as they had suffered Philippe’s helpful comments about doing more exercise!
Carl had set up his hardened laptop and satellite phone and on the appointed time an encrypted burst of info was downloaded. The download seemed to take forever despite the high bandwidth of the link. Once it was finished Carl sent back an acknowledgement. Once he had gone through the information eh called the team together and opened a comms link to the two snipers
“Gentlemen, Obviously our situation has got worse due to the problems with our insertion but our orders are clear, we have to continue the mission, but there’s a bit of good news.”
He paused and adjusted the laptops screen so that the men in front of him could see what was there.
“Our supposed friends at the DRM have managed to pass over to us some TI pictures taken by a drone half an hour ago, as you can see from the images it seems that our friends are currently in two groups, one is by one of the beach restaurants, near to the beach club near the end of Avenue de la Concorde, the other group is at the entrance of the casino. The analysts believe that they have holed up there. Note however one hotspot on the roof of the casino. I think we can take that as written that they have a sniper there. The reduced image would suggest he’s using broad spectrum camouflage gear.”
Pressing the remote control a few times Carl brought up a map of the town.
“Our plan is as follows. At 01:00 well deploy into two teams, team one will be myself, Philippe, and Simon the second team will of course be made up of Jules, Alan and Andre. My team will ingress to the beach via Avenue Olivier Guichard. The other team will proceed to the beachfront via the Avenue de Général de Gaulle. This route should give us sufficient distance to observe without being too close.”
Carl paused and took a sip of water form his canteen.
“My team will hold at Place des Escholiers. The second team is to gain access to the apartment buildings on the corner of Avenue de Général de Gaulle and Boulevard Hennecart, Jules and Andre I want you take position on the second floor, Jules this will give you a good angle to disrupt any boats that come from the freighter. Alan you’ll need to get to the roof so you can get a good shot at their sniper. Once he’s gone then you can also act against either the beach group, any reinforcements from the casino and also any action form the boats. Questions?”
The two snipers and Andre answered in the negative at the same time, well almost..
“Non Chef”
“Good” continued Carl “My team will then move back and utilise les Allées des Tamaeris et Mouettes to get closer to the beach site and hold just inside Allée des Sylphes. Now Andres I want you to get into one of the apartments in the building on the corner of Allée des Sylphes and Boulevard Darlu and hold there as you should have a good view of what’s happening on the beach. The professors at BRGE say they can give me a direct data link to the Atlantique so we’ll get a feed from their FLIR cameras. As soon as we see what the freighter is doing, Alan on my order you take out the sniper. Andre you soften up the beach site using the M203. My team will cross over the boulevard and assault the beach site. Andre I want you to stop using the M203 as soon as we hit the sea wall understand?”
“Oui chef’ came the reply.
‘Excellent, now if this is a supply or reinforcement run we’ll have multiple boats to deal with so we must be prepared to deal with a larger number of OPFOR. If this happens then my team will exfil back to the market place via the cathedral. Well need team two to supply covering fire until the OPFOR have secured the beach and then you’re to rendezvous with us in the marketplace, from the we’ll return here.”
‘What then Chef?” asked Simon
“We’ll make it up as we go along!” replied Carl with a smile.
“However” he continued “this might be a supply drop and so I’d expect Alan to dispose of any boats with that cannon of his. Hopefully it will be simple and the beach site will be secured quickly. Assuming that happens Simon, Philippe and myself will police the site. Andre I want you to secure the roof of the building you will be in so as to provide an overwatch site for Alan. Obviously Alan I need you there, Jules and Andre will rendezvous with us in Allée des Sylphes.”
Carl click the remote control a few more times bringing up some basic diagrams of the casino.
“From there we’ll move to take out the remnants in the casino. I’ve been advised that the Atlantique will be able to stay on station and provide constant surveillance which is good news so we’ll know well in advance if anyone else comes to crash the party. Once we’ve cleaned up then we retrieve our fallen comrades and await our exfil. Any further questions?”
Philippe brought up a question that no-one was prepared for
“What are our rules of engagement for civilians Chef?”
Carl hesitated
“The same as in Nantes. Assume all contacts to be hostile, even here we can’t assume anything look at what happened at the station!”
Alan and Jules both started muttering and Carl turned on them
“I’m sorry if you gentlemen are upset about this but I’m not losing anyone else tonight! Understand?”
“Yes Chef” replied Jules clearly not happy about the situation
“..errr yes Chef” said Alan obviously still preoccupied with the announcement.
Carl continued “… radio chatter to be kept to a minimum during infil just give me a brief burst on the mic when you reach position. When we’re in postion I’ll give you verbal ok to engage. Clear?’
He got nods all round.
“Right” continued Carl “make sure you are all ready to go and well commence infil at 01:00.”
With the briefing clearly over the team members checked and double checked their gear. 1am seemed to rush forward as it seemed the briefing was barely over before the men had to quietly break up the camp as best they could. Andre was the last out having set a few surprises in case anyone else tried to access the site. Alan and Jules then made their way down from their hideaways. All the men then engaged their PNVG’s and the two teams split up.
The sniper team made their way down what was once a road filled with nice restaurants and chic boutiques that were frequented by Paris’ émigrés when they visited during the holiday seasons. Both Alan and Jules had their secondary weapons ready as their rifles were too bulky to be carried any distance in this environment. Both Jules Glock 18 and Alan’s B&T MP9 had suppressors in place as did Andre’s M4A1 although how long they would remain practical in a firefight was questionable. Many of the shop windows were broken, looking like demonic mouths filled with jagged teeth in the green glow of the teams night vision goggles. Occasionally a dead body could be seen, these corpses were now just bones held together by ragged cloth as the local vermin and dog population had feasted on them long ago.
Alan shook his head at the way the town had been ruined in the vicious civil war, although he could understand that this once lovely seaside town was simply a microcosm of the ruined Fifth Republic.
A block away, Carl’s team carefully moved down a tree lined road with various homes to either side. Again the vagaries of the civil war meant that some were burnt out shells whilst others looked completely intact. The one pervasive element was silence, no sound could be heard except the odd sound of cannon fire coming from the north and the sound of the sea a few hundred meters distant.
Even with both teams taking care and moving as quietly as possible it did not take too much time for them to reach their respective waypoints. Carl’s team hunkered down in the shame of a hedge and Carl sent his ‘in position’ burst of radio to Jules. Then all they could do was keep watch and wait.
Alan, Andre and Jules finally reached their target a large apartment building that faced straight onto the sea. There were shops on the ground floor facing to the beach and a walled garden and underground car park to the rear. Switching on their IR lights the trio slowly made their way down the ramp into the car park. The ramp was partially blocked by two Mercedes SLK’s which had tried to leave at the same time. But these vehicles really caused no interruption to their decent. Jules noticed in passing that the driver of one had been clearly shot in the head a couple of times. Whether it was in revenge for the crash or sheer spitefulness, he could only guess.
It took the men a few minutes to find the emergency stairs, which ‘fortunately’ had been wedged open. Using extreme care the trio ascended the stairs and too their trip to the top of the building found nearly half a dozen booby traps. All were pretty basic but every one could kill or maim. The sniper team made a quick decision to disarm all except the bottom trap. Alan took the lead up the stairs ever mindful of either more traps or a surprise visit from the person who laid the ones they’d found.
As the apartment building was only 6 stories tall it was not long until the three men reached the roof exit. This had been padlocked shut so there was a further delay as Jules picked the lock. All the men were conscious of how time was passing so Alan quickly changed into his Ghillie suite, one specially designed for urban environments and which also had an integrated thermal damping system. As soon as Alan was finished the team installed a claymore mine adjacent to the doorway, once outside Alan would plant another to ensure he got no unwanted visitors.
Once the first claymore was planted Alan got down on his stomach as Alan very slowly opened the fire door, as son as it was wide enough Jules slithered out on his stomach as Jules again carefully closed the door. Jules and Andre then moved down one flight of stairs before activating the first claymore. The two men then moved down to the fifth floor and jimmied open the fire door leading to the hallway. This passage way had two doors and a lift.
“Left or right?” whispered Andre
Jules just shrugged, both doors looked similar, both had three locks that would take time to pick and both looked solid. He rummaged around in his BDU’s pockets and came up with a doctors stethoscope, as quietly as he could he used the stethoscope to listen at both doors, hearing nothing he shook his head. Replacing the ‘scopes he found an old 20 centieme piece and flipped it
“Call”
“Heads” replied Andre suddenly realising that they had done this over a dozen times now with the same 30year old coin over the last few years.
Jules caught the coin and slapped it on his left hand peering closely through his PNVG’s “heads it is, your choice”
Andre swore softly “errr right!”
The hard decision made, Jules checked the doorframe for alarm connections and finding none, he started to quietly pick the three deadbolts. The apartment beyond was quite smart and well furnished. Andre secured the door whilst Jules quickly swept the apartment for inhabitants finding none, the two men checked out the windows of the lounge and found to their horror that behind the curtains were security screens.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck” swore Andre “what do we do now?”
“Calm down,” replied Jules, “it’s easy we slowly open the blinds by about 30 or 40 cm’s even if they’re looking directly at this building it’ll be very hard to notice”
“What even through a scope?”
“So do you want to tell the Chef that we have to delay the attack?” asked Jules rhetorically, before moving to the two sets of casement windows, opening them as slowly as possible, then he slowly tested the right hand screen. Thankfully it seemed that whoever owned the apartment looked after all of the it, not just the obvious ones. So it took little effort to open the screens and secure them.
Meanwhile up on the roof, Alan had placed his claymore and had moved across the roof to a point which would allow him a view of both the Casino and the beach. Next he laid down a thin bedding roll and then it was the turn of his heavy McMillan snipers rifle to come out of its casing opening up it’s bipod and then installing the night sight. All this was done without Alan raising his profile to his hopefully unaware opponent over at the casino.
Once he was finished setting up his site, Alan settled in and zero’d in on the opposing sniper. The GIGN sniper was right where the UAV’s recce shot had placed him, just over a kilometre away on a lower level. Like any good sniper Alan took note of anything that indicated air movement between him and his target. After making some basic mental calculations regarding bullet drop he was ready and pressed his ‘mission ready’ button on his comms gear.
Down below in their apartment Jules and Andre now had a clear view of their targets. The GIGN team had since the UAV’s recce run set up a forward base in one of the restaurants on the beach leaving only a couple of their team on the beach. To guide in the incoming boat or boats they had placed a number of IR light strobes on the beach in an arrow formation showing the best ingress route onto the beach. Also just visible a few miles out to sea the freighter that was the cause of this rendezvous could be seen. This force relocation changed things considerably especially as it was clear that the freighter was nearly at a point to offload whatever cargo it had stored.
Andre laid out two Thermobaric grenades and then an additional two HEDP. At the same time Jules radioed Carl.
“Chef Rapide 2, we have a problem OPFOR have moved most of their forces into Building C on the beach, repeat Building C on the beach. Freighter is almost at anchorage. Instructions over”
Back at Carl’s holding position the news was not welcome.
“Roger that Rapide 2. Hold 5, repeat hold 5. Rapide Prime out”
Jules wondered what the Chef would do but he hit the ‘mission ready’ button on his comms gear anyway.
Taking out his lap top Carl quickly called up the datalink with the patrolling Atlantique. Once he was logged in, he then opened up a comlink with the mission controller on the MPA.
“Mouette 6, this is Rapide Prime do you read, over?”
“Copy that Rapide Prime we read you at five, over”
“Any change on Mission 1 over”
“Mission 1 has slowed to three knots and it looks like it is about drop anchor, Rapide Prime, over”
‘Copy that Mouette 6, any change for force application? over?”
“Negative Rapide Prime, but may have small gift for Mission 1, over”
Carl didn’t know what the guy was talking about but the lack of any CAS or arty support meant that they were still going to have to strike the hard way.
“Rapide Prime this is Mouette 6, you might want to check our FLIR feed, over”
Carl looked at the laptop screen and the cool black surface of the freighter was filling with lighter bodies, lots of them.
“Copy that Mouette 6, please advise as soon as Mission 1 drops anchor we will strike two minutes after. Rapide Prime out”
“Copy that Rapide Prime, bon chance mes amis, Mouette 6 out”
Carl closed up his laptop and got up addressing his team via his comms unit.
“Ok boys, this is going to be harder. I’d say this is a reinforcement run, so we’ll hit those bastards from Sartory hard. Take potshots at the boasts as they come in then head for exfil. Agreed?”
The sniper team clicked twice acknowledging in the positive and the other who were with Carl just nodded their heads.
“Okay lets get to our forward holding position” so saying Carl and the others headed off to within half a block of the beach.
It took only a couple of minutes to reach their FHP and once there, with Philipe and Simon on overwatch, Carl once again accessed the laptop. By now both his various groups could hear the low droning sound of the MPA, Andre and Jules could also see some of the GIGN team looking up at the overcast skies. Accessing the mission control software Carl could see mission ready lights glowing a nice green for his tow sniper groups and the MPA. On the FLIR feed he could see both anchors being dropped on the freighter and almost immediately a SMS message came on the screen reporting the same from the MPA mission controller.
Carl radio’d his men in the apartment building.
“Two minutes, Rapide Prime out”
Carl and his team made last minute checks to their equipment as the mission clock counted down. Carl closed up the case as the timer was linked to his watch. They were ready to go.
30 seconds…
20 seconds….
10 seconds…
Over at the Casino the GIGN sniper stretched his back slightly looking upwards to see if he could see what plane was above the town. It just made Alan’s job that much easier
5 seconds…
4,3,2,1, Zero.
Carl radioied
“Rapide 3 shoot”
He counted to five then,
“Rapide 2 shoot”
Alan had already put himself fully into position as soon as the other sniper started to move slightly so the time it took from receiving the order to shoot and him squeezing the trigger of the McMillan was measured in half a heartbeat. The boom of the .50 calibre rifle could be heard all along the sea front however the heavy match grade round reached its target well before the noise of the shot reached the Casino. Because the snipers back was already arched the bullet flung him like a rag doll against the side of the building the bullet was only slightly slowed by the man’s body armour and it punched right through wall behind him finally dropping to the floor a few meters into the casino.
Alan waited a few moments to check that his target was dead before switching positions to be able to view the freighter. It was two kilometres away in the channel which runs parallel to the beach. Alan switched magazines and slid one loaded with HE-I rounds into the magazine well. Through the scope he could see four boats being lowered on either side and a crowd of people waited to descend ladders already in place to board the smaller vessels. To start with he began to shoot at the freighters bridge planning to move to the small boast once they were crewed and heading inshore. Just before he took his first shot he could see through his ‘scope the Atlantique MPA drop from the cloud cover and head towards the freighter.
In the apartment below Jules and Andre acted as soon as they were given the order. Jules took down the two men who were on watch within 10 seconds. In the same time Andre had fired the first thermobaric grenade popped the action of the grenade launcher loaded the second and just fired it off as the second watchman died. The noise of the .338 Hecate rifle was much louder than that of the M203 and so neither man heard the connecting door to the other apartment open, a door they’d pretty much missed in their brief search of the apartment.
The thermobaric rounds basically flattened the beach hut café that the GIGN men had hidden in, blowing out the flimsy walls causing the roof to pancake on the floor boards. However at least four men were leaving as the first rounds hit. All hit the ground and started to fire up at the surrounding buildings not quite sure where the incoming fire was coming from.
As soon as he had given the ‘go’ order Carl and his team ran towards the sea front. The sea wall that ran alongside the esplanade would give them very good cover and it was imperative that none of the OPFOR reached it. Running hard they made the wall just as the last of Andre’s two HEDP grenades had hit the edge of the ruined building giving the best fragmentation effect.
In the lull provided by the grenades the three RAID operatives could see the four GIGN men clearly against the white sand and so Carl and his men opened up at a distance of no more than 40 meters. The sound of Philippes silenced MP5SD was drowned out by the high pitched cracks of Carls STG 551 and Simons P90. The firefight was short and brutal. But Carl and his team were unaware of what had happened to Andre and Jules.
Jules and Andre had stepped back from their respective windows after Andre’s fourth grenade had been launched as much as to avoid any answering fire form the beach as to avoid inflicting friendly fire on their own troops. Jules sensed rather than saw a presence to his right and he turned seeing an old man in pinstripped pyjamas and a dressing gown hold a triple barrelled shotgun.
The old man screamed
“Bâtards!! you break into my house, my home” and fired one of shotguns barrels the goose-shot slammed into Jules body armour driving him back into the sofa behind him. None of the shot penetrated but he could fell one rib give under the pressure of the shotgun blast. The shotgun rose under the recoil and then the upper barrel roared expelling a massive slug designed for shooting boar. This massive piece of lead had no trouble penetrating Jules neck armour and decapitated the Parisian where he sat. Jules arterial blood sprayed the ceiling as his helmeted head rolled onto the floor.
By the second shot Andre had fully turned and the shock of what he saw froze him in place. In the glow of his PNVG’s Jules blood was like a stream of phosphorous which was drenching his attacker. Andre could see the shotgun start to track in his direction and so fired his grenade launcher…
After he had fired the last HEDP round Andre had replaced the round he had kept in the launcher during the march from the hotel. Instead of firing a HE grenade this munition was like a super-sized shotgun shell.
20 balls of buckshot exited the grenade launcher and as there were only a few meters to travel they had barely spread out before hitting the old man and so tore a hole larger than a mans fist through his stomach, in the process blasting out part of the mans spine before expelling their energy in the wall behind him. The old man was flung backwards but not before his finger pulled on he shotguns trigger. The last shotgun blast though blew the front of a cabinet revealing a number of bottles of wine. Some perished but a good half dozen survived. Chateau Lafite, Jules favourite.
By now it was clear that the MPA was on what looked to be a bombing run.
Awaiting a sitrep from his sniper teams Carl contacted the misson controller aboard Mouette 6.
‘Mouette 6 this is Rapide Prime, what is your intent over”
“Rapide Prime this is Mouette 6 we’re about to deliver a welcome package hope it works! What is your situation over?”
“Mouette 6, OPFOR and sniper support removed.” Carl could hear Alan’s McMillan firing and could see what looked like flames in the freighter bridge
‘We are firing on Mission 1, over”
“Copy that Rapide Prime, Lets see if this idea works eh? Mouette 6 out”
Through Alan’s scope he could see that those on board could tell that the Atlantique was approaching but his shots had caused a fair amount of commotion. He could see that the MPA’s bay doors had opened and just before it overflew the freighter an object flew out and hit the water on the far side of the freighter. Almost immediately there was a massive whoosh and a spout of water flew tens of meters into the air before cascading down on the boat. The freighter itself seemed to shudder in place. As to the smaller boats that were lowered a few minutes before there was no sign.
Alan radioed Carl
‘Chef, I think they just used a depth charge, must have set the depth for only a couple of meters. Looks like they’re coming for another pass.”
Indeed the MPA had banked around the bay and was making another run this time from the landward side of the freighter. By now it seemed someone had got hold of some firearms and a few lines of tracers started to arc towards the MPA. Alan started to return fire almost immediately lessening the feeble AA fire from the freighter. However this time the OWO misjudged and the depth charge landed on the freighters deck cushioned by a few bodies. If there was chaos before now it was absolutely Alan could see people jumping overboard as the depth charge rolled this way and that as the freighter wallowed in the after effects of the first bomb run. The depth charge rolled suddenly though a gap in the landward railings and fell the remaining 10 meters or so to the surface of the sea. As it dropped through the 1.5m mark the charge ignited. The force of the blast obliterated the four boast that were in the water and the concussive force jellified any of the men in the water.
It was then the freighter gave up the ghost. It’s structure was not built with withstand the pressure blows of two sets of military grade explosives on opposing sides and its back began to break. The sound of the hull failing could be heard on the beach as the ship tore itself apart in a foaming sea.
Carl and his men just looked on almost unbelieving at the sight before them. They were still watching the ships dying moments when Alan and a blood spattered Andre reached then. Andre had Jules rifle slung over his back and was carrying a bag.
‘Where’s Jules?”
“The apartment we used was owned by some crazy old wanker, looks like he was sleeping next door. Shot Jules with a boar hunting shotgun, I took him out but Jules, Jules he shot him in the throat…. it was terrible Chef. The funny thing is one of the shots opened up a wine cabinet and there were all these bottle of Lafite, well you know how Jules used to gone on about it so I though we should drink it in his honour when we get back to base.”
He opened up the bag for all to see and there were six bottle of Chateau Lafite 2000.
It was almost too much for Carl. His team was almost destroyed and yet they had found maybe six thousand euros of wine. He didn’t know whether to laugh of cry and the inanity of it all. His composure was saved by Mouette 6 calling in.
“Rapide Prime, Mouette 6 calling, do you copy? Over”
“Roger that Mouette 6, we are down another man. Glad to say your surprise worked well.”
“Copy that Rapide Prime, so are we. We have been advised that we have some Frelons en-route with marines to secure your area. ETA 45 minutes. You will exfil on those choppers.”
‘Copy that Mouette 6, Rapide Prime out”
“Well done Rapide Prime we’ve had a report from Control that they’ve had more intel on that freighter. We’ve stopped something very big. France will be proud..of course only some of it will be but you know what I mean. Mouette 6 out”
Carl had to chuckle at the mission controllers humour and turned to his men.
“The Marines have finally decided to come from their barracks. They’ll be with us shortly. Andre and Alan please stay here. Simon Philippe and I will get our comrades bodies and the other gear. And if we can get it all together maybe we can open one of those bottles before we leave. But one should go to the boys in Mouette 6 as they saved us a lot of grief.”
Alan replied “Chef I think I saw the OPFORs vehicle a SUV in front of the casino so you should be able to use that.”
“Well spotted Alan, I’m getting tired of walking. If I’d wanted to do that all day I’d have joined the infantry!”
Just about an hour later four Navy Super-Frelon helicopters flared down on the beach. Disgorging Marines who came upon the site of five men in black BDU’s sitting next to three shrouded bodies, and drinking out of a bottle of Vintage wine.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Blogs of the dead pt 4
“Aww shit!” Martin’s voice tinged with pain, surprise and embarrassment rang out clear from the kitchen.
‘What’s wrong honey?” called out Amanda as she watched the storm that had blown in a few hours ago rain lash the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment. She could just make out the various lights of the harbour city still shining brightly although some now were flickering. In one hand a half empty glass of sparkling wine, in the other her Nokia smart phone with twitter up. The latest message was from Mike in London
“WTF is going on?”
She’d replied “I don’t know hon it’s all gone horribly wrong”
And in her mind she didn’t know if she was referring to what was happening outside or between her and her husband..
A few kilometres away a new billow of flame erupted into the air as a fuel tank near to Blackwattle bay exploded, it would seem that the torrential rain had not doused all the fires. Amanda guessed that many had been caused by planes coming down after the meteor storm thing. During the day she had seen a few other plumes of smoke, and from the direction of Botany Bay and the airport, there had been just one massive pillar of smoke.
They’d wanted to watch the meteor shower or whatever it was but instead they’d gone to bed and right there in the heat and passion he’d said HER name, that bitch Debbie fucking Halladay At first with all that was going on she thought she misheard but then as he drifted off to sleep he’d repeated the name. That was it her honeymoon which was going so well, ruined. Oh and then it seemed the world chose to come to an end at the same time. How sad.
They’d had their curtains closed and then whilst Martin slept she’d had a long bath to calm down so they’d missed the whole thing. She thought she might of heard the plane come down but wasn’t certain. The problems at Botany Bay though had shaken the building a few times so good knows what it was like closer in, say near Bondi. But to be honest she just didn’t care.
Amanda missed the apartment door being thumped. But Martin didn’t
“Is that someone at the door?”
“I don’t know’ Replied Amanda in a bored voice “ but I don’t really want to check who knows what loonies are around in all this shit” she gestured to the wind and rain outside forgetting that Martin of course couldn’t see it from the kitchen.
“Don’t worry I’ll check” Martin was obviously trying to sound brave and for a moment it actually sounded true. There was a clattering as it sounded like Martin was hunting for a large knife.
Amanda turned and saw Martin head out of the kitchen a large chef’s knife in one hand and the over wrapped in a tea cloth with a red stain showing. Reaching the door he fumbled with the handle.
To Amanda the next events happened in slow motion.
Martin awkwardly opened the door revealing the still lit hallway beyond.
His voice seemed to boom out “Hello?”
Then a man shambled into view from the direction of the emergency stairwell.
From what Amanda could see his features seemed slack. He was tall and it seemed well muscled, like a sportsman. His head was shaved and he was wearing some sort of sporting top coloured red and white. However even from nearly 10 meters away Amanda could see his eyes glowed a deep emerald green. The man’s mouth opened wide and a faint moaning sound issued forth before he launched himself at Martin.
Her husband staggered backward into the apartment. His attacker seemed not to care even though Martin managed to slice him a number of times with the kitchen knife.
“Amanda help me’ Martin cried out as the attacker managed to get closed enough to bite him on the face. Amanda could hear a wet tearing sound as part of Martins left cheek came away hanging limply from the attackers mouth, dripping blood on the white carpet. Martin screamed shrilly in pain and his attacker chewed manically on the flesh in his mouth before moving again at Martin.
Amanda felt she could not move even though the two men were now only a couple of meters away from her. All she could do was watch in horrid fascination as Martin was bitten again and again, his knife falling to blood spattered floor. Her whole consciousness was torn between her jealous rage at martin and his need for aid.
It was then she noticed that Martin was being pushed back towards the balcony door and an idea sprang into Amanda’s mind. She ran at the balcony door and wrenched it open just moments before martin would have hit the glass. Sure enough he stepped backwards onto the slick balcony and fell backwards smacking his back on the balcony’s rail with a dull crack. It seemed that Martin could only now sob in pain as his half ruined face was washed in the torrential rain.
His attacker also slipped on the wet tiles and the two men became dangerously balanced swaying back and forth…until Amanda launched herself at her husband’s attacker pushing him with all her strength in a savage burst of aggression. Amanda blinked as she also skidded on the tiles, but caught herself in time to find herself alone in the rain as Martin and the strange man tumbled the 10 storeys to the street below.
All she could do was stare down at the street below, with the rain pelting down soaking her clothes, and chilling her. As she stood there shivering Amanda could just make out some figures lurching along the dimly lit road.
*Guess my honeymoon is truly over then* she thought as a massive bolt of lighting lit up the harbour revealing many more shambling figures.
‘What’s wrong honey?” called out Amanda as she watched the storm that had blown in a few hours ago rain lash the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment. She could just make out the various lights of the harbour city still shining brightly although some now were flickering. In one hand a half empty glass of sparkling wine, in the other her Nokia smart phone with twitter up. The latest message was from Mike in London
“WTF is going on?”
She’d replied “I don’t know hon it’s all gone horribly wrong”
And in her mind she didn’t know if she was referring to what was happening outside or between her and her husband..
A few kilometres away a new billow of flame erupted into the air as a fuel tank near to Blackwattle bay exploded, it would seem that the torrential rain had not doused all the fires. Amanda guessed that many had been caused by planes coming down after the meteor storm thing. During the day she had seen a few other plumes of smoke, and from the direction of Botany Bay and the airport, there had been just one massive pillar of smoke.
They’d wanted to watch the meteor shower or whatever it was but instead they’d gone to bed and right there in the heat and passion he’d said HER name, that bitch Debbie fucking Halladay At first with all that was going on she thought she misheard but then as he drifted off to sleep he’d repeated the name. That was it her honeymoon which was going so well, ruined. Oh and then it seemed the world chose to come to an end at the same time. How sad.
They’d had their curtains closed and then whilst Martin slept she’d had a long bath to calm down so they’d missed the whole thing. She thought she might of heard the plane come down but wasn’t certain. The problems at Botany Bay though had shaken the building a few times so good knows what it was like closer in, say near Bondi. But to be honest she just didn’t care.
Amanda missed the apartment door being thumped. But Martin didn’t
“Is that someone at the door?”
“I don’t know’ Replied Amanda in a bored voice “ but I don’t really want to check who knows what loonies are around in all this shit” she gestured to the wind and rain outside forgetting that Martin of course couldn’t see it from the kitchen.
“Don’t worry I’ll check” Martin was obviously trying to sound brave and for a moment it actually sounded true. There was a clattering as it sounded like Martin was hunting for a large knife.
Amanda turned and saw Martin head out of the kitchen a large chef’s knife in one hand and the over wrapped in a tea cloth with a red stain showing. Reaching the door he fumbled with the handle.
To Amanda the next events happened in slow motion.
Martin awkwardly opened the door revealing the still lit hallway beyond.
His voice seemed to boom out “Hello?”
Then a man shambled into view from the direction of the emergency stairwell.
From what Amanda could see his features seemed slack. He was tall and it seemed well muscled, like a sportsman. His head was shaved and he was wearing some sort of sporting top coloured red and white. However even from nearly 10 meters away Amanda could see his eyes glowed a deep emerald green. The man’s mouth opened wide and a faint moaning sound issued forth before he launched himself at Martin.
Her husband staggered backward into the apartment. His attacker seemed not to care even though Martin managed to slice him a number of times with the kitchen knife.
“Amanda help me’ Martin cried out as the attacker managed to get closed enough to bite him on the face. Amanda could hear a wet tearing sound as part of Martins left cheek came away hanging limply from the attackers mouth, dripping blood on the white carpet. Martin screamed shrilly in pain and his attacker chewed manically on the flesh in his mouth before moving again at Martin.
Amanda felt she could not move even though the two men were now only a couple of meters away from her. All she could do was watch in horrid fascination as Martin was bitten again and again, his knife falling to blood spattered floor. Her whole consciousness was torn between her jealous rage at martin and his need for aid.
It was then she noticed that Martin was being pushed back towards the balcony door and an idea sprang into Amanda’s mind. She ran at the balcony door and wrenched it open just moments before martin would have hit the glass. Sure enough he stepped backwards onto the slick balcony and fell backwards smacking his back on the balcony’s rail with a dull crack. It seemed that Martin could only now sob in pain as his half ruined face was washed in the torrential rain.
His attacker also slipped on the wet tiles and the two men became dangerously balanced swaying back and forth…until Amanda launched herself at her husband’s attacker pushing him with all her strength in a savage burst of aggression. Amanda blinked as she also skidded on the tiles, but caught herself in time to find herself alone in the rain as Martin and the strange man tumbled the 10 storeys to the street below.
All she could do was stare down at the street below, with the rain pelting down soaking her clothes, and chilling her. As she stood there shivering Amanda could just make out some figures lurching along the dimly lit road.
*Guess my honeymoon is truly over then* she thought as a massive bolt of lighting lit up the harbour revealing many more shambling figures.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Blogs of the Dead Pt 3
Ritchie’s battered company SUV came to a halt just beside a sign announcing the start of Sarubi’s town limits. Lake Kabul lay somewhere of to the right but some ridgeline obscured his view. The sign was dusty and battered with numerous bullet holes. Much like many of the signs along the ‘Stans basic road system.
They’d left Jalalabad a few hours ago but having to be careful of IED’s and the possibility of ambushes had meant they had travelled slower than usual. Al’s SUV had fallen victim to an IED about 15km’s back. It was a big one, a couple of linked 155mm arty rounds and it had made short work of the Ford Explorer.
In a practiced movement Lyle and Dimitri exited the SUV and took up covering positions whilst Ritchie once again tried their offices in Kabul. It was the same thing the line just rang out. For once he managed to get a few bars of reception on his smart phone so tried the social networking sites the only things that seemed to work at the moment, he caught Sophie’s message but couldn’t remember if she said she’d be now in Barcelona or Madrid, so he sent a quick message
“Hang on you’re not alone”
The irony of that made Ritchie laugh for a second.. as very few people seemed not to be alone. Signalling his two colleagues he quickly reassessed their options. The best one was to drive back along the A01 to Kabul and try and get some sort of transport out the country. He just didn’t want to try and make a break through Pakistan and the war zone that was the tribal areas.
“So what do we do now?” Asked Dimitri the tall Russian had been working with Ritchie for nearly a year now and he was very dependable.
“Go to HQ and see what we see, I suppose” replied Ritchie “There’s a compound nearby so we can refuel and then we’ve got enough fuel to get us to Kabul”
“But how are going to get out this shithole?” Asked Lyle an American, who’d been with them for a few months.
“Dimitri can fly and there’s an Antonov that used to be owned by Blackwater sitting on the tarmac at Bagram ready to be used.” Ritchie said, moving the vehicle back onto the road, kicking up a fair amount of the ever present Afghan dust in the process.
“Yeah, I guess they won’t be needing it anymore!” agreed Lyle.
As they drove on towards the town there was silence before Dimitri re-opened the same conversation they’d had since the morning.
“So, do you think that feed from the Reaper was real?”
“Wasn’t no Pixar cartoon that’s for sure!” quipped Lyle
“Dimitri, I just don’t know it looked real and it didn’t look natural, but since the meteor storm most people who were outside are now dead so maybe it was radioactive of something” opined Ritchie.
“That green glow shit was pretty scary” said Lyle scratching his head vigorously before gazing out of the window looking for threats.
“Well doesn’t radioactive stuff glow green?”, asked Ritchie before continuing “I’ve checked some of the networking sites and there still seems to be people alive out there”.
“Where should we fly to though? The 32 has a range of about 2500 kms?” Dimitri asked thoughtfully.
“Oman I guess” said Ritchie, “plenty of stores there and I remember that Se’eb airport is dual use so we can pick up gear before moving along to Israel from there the Med is our oyster”
“You are assuming that Israel will be in a similar condition to here though” Stated Dimitri.
“it’s not rocket science Dimitri” said Lyle “Listen if this the end of the world it’s the end of the world and Israel’s not going to have any say in the matter, unless of course they caused it” he finished with a sneaky smile.
They conversation had taken them through the majority of Sarubi and almost to the company’s compound.
‘Look!” said Lyle pointing down the street “Birds won’t tough the bodies but those goddam doggies will!”
Sure enough a pack of four dogs were attacking a couple of bodies with gusto further down the street.
“Don’t take any chances. Lyle, you open the gates. Dimitri, you provide cover got it”
The other two men nodded.
“Good, we’ll be there in a moment”
The SUV pulled up outside the compound. The complex’s walls were thick and additional lighting and some security camera’s had been installed when the company took the place over in 2002. The only problem was the feasting dogs were now only 50 meters away but seemed to be giving the vehicle no mind. As the day was filtering away Dimitri and Lyle both activated the tac-lights on their customized AK-104’s before piling out.
One dog looked up as the SUV’s doors slammed shut, and Lyle ran to the gates and Dimitri took and over watch position opposite. Fortunately there was still enough power for the gate motors to work and they were in the compound in seconds. Ritchie dismounted his 417 recon rifle replacing the 50 round drum mag with a handier 20 round one.
It took only a dozen or so minutes for the three men split up and search the building for survivors. Finding none they met up back in the courtyard.
“Find anything?” Ritchie asked
“Only dead bodies” replied Lyle helpfully
“ The Intel cell team seem to have suicided” said Dimitri “Two had taken their assist pills and the third had shot himself”
“Maybe they knew something we don’t, sneaky bastards!” proclaimed Lyle
“Or they took an easy way out” countered Dimitri.
“Well it doesn’t matter now” put in Ritchie “Lets clear the compound of the bodies and settle in for tonight, and inventory what we’ve got..”
“What was that!” Lyle half shouted.
His two colleagues looked in askance
“That body, it moved..I’m certain of it” Lyle continued.
“Of course Lyle” said Ritchie not in the mood for one of the American’s jokes.
‘No I’m certain” replied Lyle sounding quite scared.
In the deepening gloom of the evening it was getting harder to see as the perimeter lights were not on. Lyle switch his rifle mounted tac-light back on and panned it around the courtyard.
“What the fu…”
All the bodies they could see were twitching as if suffering a severe epileptic attack. Before the men’s disbelieving eyes the bodies of their co-employees slowly started to get to their feet in a jerky un-coordinated manner.
“Things have got worse” muttered Dimitri…
They’d left Jalalabad a few hours ago but having to be careful of IED’s and the possibility of ambushes had meant they had travelled slower than usual. Al’s SUV had fallen victim to an IED about 15km’s back. It was a big one, a couple of linked 155mm arty rounds and it had made short work of the Ford Explorer.
In a practiced movement Lyle and Dimitri exited the SUV and took up covering positions whilst Ritchie once again tried their offices in Kabul. It was the same thing the line just rang out. For once he managed to get a few bars of reception on his smart phone so tried the social networking sites the only things that seemed to work at the moment, he caught Sophie’s message but couldn’t remember if she said she’d be now in Barcelona or Madrid, so he sent a quick message
“Hang on you’re not alone”
The irony of that made Ritchie laugh for a second.. as very few people seemed not to be alone. Signalling his two colleagues he quickly reassessed their options. The best one was to drive back along the A01 to Kabul and try and get some sort of transport out the country. He just didn’t want to try and make a break through Pakistan and the war zone that was the tribal areas.
“So what do we do now?” Asked Dimitri the tall Russian had been working with Ritchie for nearly a year now and he was very dependable.
“Go to HQ and see what we see, I suppose” replied Ritchie “There’s a compound nearby so we can refuel and then we’ve got enough fuel to get us to Kabul”
“But how are going to get out this shithole?” Asked Lyle an American, who’d been with them for a few months.
“Dimitri can fly and there’s an Antonov that used to be owned by Blackwater sitting on the tarmac at Bagram ready to be used.” Ritchie said, moving the vehicle back onto the road, kicking up a fair amount of the ever present Afghan dust in the process.
“Yeah, I guess they won’t be needing it anymore!” agreed Lyle.
As they drove on towards the town there was silence before Dimitri re-opened the same conversation they’d had since the morning.
“So, do you think that feed from the Reaper was real?”
“Wasn’t no Pixar cartoon that’s for sure!” quipped Lyle
“Dimitri, I just don’t know it looked real and it didn’t look natural, but since the meteor storm most people who were outside are now dead so maybe it was radioactive of something” opined Ritchie.
“That green glow shit was pretty scary” said Lyle scratching his head vigorously before gazing out of the window looking for threats.
“Well doesn’t radioactive stuff glow green?”, asked Ritchie before continuing “I’ve checked some of the networking sites and there still seems to be people alive out there”.
“Where should we fly to though? The 32 has a range of about 2500 kms?” Dimitri asked thoughtfully.
“Oman I guess” said Ritchie, “plenty of stores there and I remember that Se’eb airport is dual use so we can pick up gear before moving along to Israel from there the Med is our oyster”
“You are assuming that Israel will be in a similar condition to here though” Stated Dimitri.
“it’s not rocket science Dimitri” said Lyle “Listen if this the end of the world it’s the end of the world and Israel’s not going to have any say in the matter, unless of course they caused it” he finished with a sneaky smile.
They conversation had taken them through the majority of Sarubi and almost to the company’s compound.
‘Look!” said Lyle pointing down the street “Birds won’t tough the bodies but those goddam doggies will!”
Sure enough a pack of four dogs were attacking a couple of bodies with gusto further down the street.
“Don’t take any chances. Lyle, you open the gates. Dimitri, you provide cover got it”
The other two men nodded.
“Good, we’ll be there in a moment”
The SUV pulled up outside the compound. The complex’s walls were thick and additional lighting and some security camera’s had been installed when the company took the place over in 2002. The only problem was the feasting dogs were now only 50 meters away but seemed to be giving the vehicle no mind. As the day was filtering away Dimitri and Lyle both activated the tac-lights on their customized AK-104’s before piling out.
One dog looked up as the SUV’s doors slammed shut, and Lyle ran to the gates and Dimitri took and over watch position opposite. Fortunately there was still enough power for the gate motors to work and they were in the compound in seconds. Ritchie dismounted his 417 recon rifle replacing the 50 round drum mag with a handier 20 round one.
It took only a dozen or so minutes for the three men split up and search the building for survivors. Finding none they met up back in the courtyard.
“Find anything?” Ritchie asked
“Only dead bodies” replied Lyle helpfully
“ The Intel cell team seem to have suicided” said Dimitri “Two had taken their assist pills and the third had shot himself”
“Maybe they knew something we don’t, sneaky bastards!” proclaimed Lyle
“Or they took an easy way out” countered Dimitri.
“Well it doesn’t matter now” put in Ritchie “Lets clear the compound of the bodies and settle in for tonight, and inventory what we’ve got..”
“What was that!” Lyle half shouted.
His two colleagues looked in askance
“That body, it moved..I’m certain of it” Lyle continued.
“Of course Lyle” said Ritchie not in the mood for one of the American’s jokes.
‘No I’m certain” replied Lyle sounding quite scared.
In the deepening gloom of the evening it was getting harder to see as the perimeter lights were not on. Lyle switch his rifle mounted tac-light back on and panned it around the courtyard.
“What the fu…”
All the bodies they could see were twitching as if suffering a severe epileptic attack. Before the men’s disbelieving eyes the bodies of their co-employees slowly started to get to their feet in a jerky un-coordinated manner.
“Things have got worse” muttered Dimitri…
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Blogs of the Dead pt 2
“..It’s like everyone’s dead, it’s so quiet, I’m afraid” Sophie pressed the send button on her phone she looked around her at the many bodies all over the wide boulevard that was La Rambla. Overhead the sun shone in the clear sky and there was a distinct smell in the air. She’d been walking for a few hours now from her holiday apartment near to the Universidad and had only caught a couple of glimpses of a few other people. They quickly ran away, scared it seemed of any human contact. Here in Barcelona’s heart it seemed that everyone had come out to see the meteor shower and for some reason everyone was dead.
Sophie had come down with food poisoning a few days previously and so had missed out when her boyfriend and their friends had gone down to La Rambla and the harbour to watch the show. She’d been searching for them amongst the thousands of bodies but so far had had no luck. Fortunately it seemed that there was still power being generated and the phone systems seemed to be working still. She’d sent a number of sms’ but no–one had replied but twitter seemed to be still up and some people were posting.
Clare her real life friend in Sacramento had just posted “the freeways are choked, crashes everywhere. I walked home. Very scared”
Nat, a blogger in Australia had posted “This is FKN bad, lots of car crashes, power fluctuating, lots of dead’
The sound of seagulls squabbling caught Sophie’s attention they were fighting over a piece of chicken, what was interesting that there were a lot of birds around and none were going for the human corpses. Looking around again taking in the many bodies which now to be honest had congealed in her mind as basically a carpet of death with no individual features. Across the boulevard she could see Café de l’Opera and decided she needed some water and to get out of the sun.
The front of the building looked as lovely as every with the soft lights in the cast iron chandeliers reminding her of better times. There were only a few corpses and many of the smartly dressed waiters seemed to be just in front of the café. Stepping inde she could smell burning and the steam spout on the main coffee machine was billowing out clouds of steam. Self-consciously Sophie walked around the bar and grabbing a couple of towels managed to turn of the now very hot control lever.
Looking around in the fridges she found some bottled water and took a couple of bottles. The first she drank straight down, the second she placed in her bag. Still feeling weak from her bout of food poisoning but not being able to face any food ,she went to the orange juicer with it’s cage of oranges and after a couple of minutes of working out how to operate the machine produced a glass of fresh OJ, a quick trip to the ice machine and she had a refreshing beverage. Moving to one of the seats by the door way she sat down.
The scene was very bizarre, it seemed that lots of guests had left their possessions at their tables and had gone outside leaving them behind. Handbags, mobile phones a couple of laptops it was a muggers paradise.
Except even the muggers were dead.
And that was when the dam burst within her. All the fear, frustration and loneliness came forth in a wave of sobbing and a bad case of the shakes which last it seemed almost forever. What brought her back from the edge was almost banal. From the corner of her eye she saw a small mouse slowly make its way into the café. It’s nose twitching and head moving from side to side every alert. Moving carefully it scurried past the near hysterical young woman and started feasting on a piece of bread that was on the floor. By the time Sophie had almost regained her composure it had also grabbed a couple of grapes and was walking back outside it’s cheeks bulging under the weight of the fruit.
As it passed Sophie the small rodent stopped and seemed to regard her and then went outside. To Sophie it looked like it was shaking it’s head. That made her laugh although the cleaner emotion still had a brittle edge to it. After blowing her nose on the table cloth *very ladylike* she thought, Sophie slowly drained the glass of OJ placing the empty glass on the table with an affirmative clack. She was about to check her phone again when she heard outside a faint call
“Hola? Hola?”
Sophie had come down with food poisoning a few days previously and so had missed out when her boyfriend and their friends had gone down to La Rambla and the harbour to watch the show. She’d been searching for them amongst the thousands of bodies but so far had had no luck. Fortunately it seemed that there was still power being generated and the phone systems seemed to be working still. She’d sent a number of sms’ but no–one had replied but twitter seemed to be still up and some people were posting.
Clare her real life friend in Sacramento had just posted “the freeways are choked, crashes everywhere. I walked home. Very scared”
Nat, a blogger in Australia had posted “This is FKN bad, lots of car crashes, power fluctuating, lots of dead’
The sound of seagulls squabbling caught Sophie’s attention they were fighting over a piece of chicken, what was interesting that there were a lot of birds around and none were going for the human corpses. Looking around again taking in the many bodies which now to be honest had congealed in her mind as basically a carpet of death with no individual features. Across the boulevard she could see Café de l’Opera and decided she needed some water and to get out of the sun.
The front of the building looked as lovely as every with the soft lights in the cast iron chandeliers reminding her of better times. There were only a few corpses and many of the smartly dressed waiters seemed to be just in front of the café. Stepping inde she could smell burning and the steam spout on the main coffee machine was billowing out clouds of steam. Self-consciously Sophie walked around the bar and grabbing a couple of towels managed to turn of the now very hot control lever.
Looking around in the fridges she found some bottled water and took a couple of bottles. The first she drank straight down, the second she placed in her bag. Still feeling weak from her bout of food poisoning but not being able to face any food ,she went to the orange juicer with it’s cage of oranges and after a couple of minutes of working out how to operate the machine produced a glass of fresh OJ, a quick trip to the ice machine and she had a refreshing beverage. Moving to one of the seats by the door way she sat down.
The scene was very bizarre, it seemed that lots of guests had left their possessions at their tables and had gone outside leaving them behind. Handbags, mobile phones a couple of laptops it was a muggers paradise.
Except even the muggers were dead.
And that was when the dam burst within her. All the fear, frustration and loneliness came forth in a wave of sobbing and a bad case of the shakes which last it seemed almost forever. What brought her back from the edge was almost banal. From the corner of her eye she saw a small mouse slowly make its way into the café. It’s nose twitching and head moving from side to side every alert. Moving carefully it scurried past the near hysterical young woman and started feasting on a piece of bread that was on the floor. By the time Sophie had almost regained her composure it had also grabbed a couple of grapes and was walking back outside it’s cheeks bulging under the weight of the fruit.
As it passed Sophie the small rodent stopped and seemed to regard her and then went outside. To Sophie it looked like it was shaking it’s head. That made her laugh although the cleaner emotion still had a brittle edge to it. After blowing her nose on the table cloth *very ladylike* she thought, Sophie slowly drained the glass of OJ placing the empty glass on the table with an affirmative clack. She was about to check her phone again when she heard outside a faint call
“Hola? Hola?”
Monday, December 7, 2009
Blogs of the Dead Pt 1
It was the tortured sound of metal tearing against metal in the street below that finally broke through Mikes alcohol fuelled slumber. A full bladder and eyes that seemed to not really want to open were his most immediate concerns though as he stumbled out of bed and into the party detritus strewn hallway.
Fortunately the bathroom wasn’t locked so his most immediate need was quickly attended too. The bathroom wasn’t too amazing but it had a bath and shower and the often chaotic cleaning rota seemed to help it stay reasonably clean. As Mike got to the job in hand his eyes vaguely made out a slumped body in the bath, it looked like Steph’s latest boyfriend Felipé, but then it could have been Tony Blair for all Mike could really see or care about.
A brief childish urge resulted in the baths current occupier receiving a shower that would have cost him fifty pounds if requested from Katie the working girl who lived in the basement flat. That the body did not move amused Mike even more, and after zipping up and washing his hands he wandered back into his room.
The world was now coming into focus and from the gaps in the curtains, it looked like it was going to be another drab London autumn day. As his vision was now returning so appeared the start of a raging hangover, but Mike was curious about the crash that woke him, also that there was little or no traffic sound. Considering that the flat was about midway along Warwick road, which was considered the busiest urban road in the UK a lack of noise was stranger even on a Saturday morning..or even an early Saturday afternoon as at that moment Mike noticed that his alarm clock read ‘13.03’.
Drawing aside the curtains gave Mike a view of London not generally seen in the movies, fields of roofs propagated with forests of TV antennas and Satellite dishes. Looking down Mike could see a couple of cars had hit a white van and the result looked pretty poor.
“Spooky!’ Mike said to himself as he also noticed a few cars had decided to leave the road and ploughed into houses that ran along the road. Besides that the road was empty.
Mikes stomach turned over and made various drain like noises, which wasn’t encouraging. Quickly he changed out of the gear he had slept in and put on something a bit more suitable for wandering around, grabbing his jacket he made sure that he had his phone and wallet and headed towards the kitchen.
If the hallway was a mess, the kitchen was worse, with the bin overflowing with cans and bottles and the counter tops covered with pizza boxes and plates that at some stage last night had held ‘nibbles’. The glass bowl with neurofen was still full so Mike grabbed a strip to have a couple, after he’d had something to eat. As he headed out of the flat he poked his head into the lounge which seemed now to be ground zero for the disaster that had effected the rest of the flat. Amongst the debris were three more slumped bodies, one wearing a lime green skirt that had ridden up during the night and was showing a fair length of leg. For the life of him Mike couldn’t think who that was and so left the flat.
Walking down the stairs to the front door Mike noticed a distinct lack of noise in the building, all he could think was that lots of people we recovering from parties held to watch last nights light show. As he reached the front door Mike caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His blond hair was pretty scraggy, too much stubble and when he turned to look his eyes were red rimmed pissholes in snow. Food and the more sleep seemed a very good idea.
Opening the front door meant that he got a full whiff of the leaking diesel and petrol coming from the car crash he could also hear what sound like a fire and there was also a burning smell in the air. And no sirens, in fact almost no noise at all.
Mike felt a rush of indecision, this was all a bit too much to take in his current fragile state but the need for food and an instant sugar fix overcame a need for feeling secure. So he moved off down the street and got about 10 meters before remembering the car crash. Hesitantly he turned around and almost did a 360 before steeling himself and walked slowly over to the mangled metallic mess. All three drivers were clearly dead, one was hanging half out of his windscreen. The van had a passenger and they looked pretty dead as well. Walking around avoiding the leaking petrol, diesel and blood, Mike could see that all three vehicles seemed to be filled with gear. Suitcases and the like.
It was clear that there was nothing he could do, so Mike pulled out his iPhone and dialled 999 only to get ‘All our operators are busy please ring again shortly’. Alone on the street next to the crash site mike couldn’t get it. No sirens anywhere and yet they were busy?! Mike flicked on Twitter to see what other people were saying….
TBC
Fortunately the bathroom wasn’t locked so his most immediate need was quickly attended too. The bathroom wasn’t too amazing but it had a bath and shower and the often chaotic cleaning rota seemed to help it stay reasonably clean. As Mike got to the job in hand his eyes vaguely made out a slumped body in the bath, it looked like Steph’s latest boyfriend Felipé, but then it could have been Tony Blair for all Mike could really see or care about.
A brief childish urge resulted in the baths current occupier receiving a shower that would have cost him fifty pounds if requested from Katie the working girl who lived in the basement flat. That the body did not move amused Mike even more, and after zipping up and washing his hands he wandered back into his room.
The world was now coming into focus and from the gaps in the curtains, it looked like it was going to be another drab London autumn day. As his vision was now returning so appeared the start of a raging hangover, but Mike was curious about the crash that woke him, also that there was little or no traffic sound. Considering that the flat was about midway along Warwick road, which was considered the busiest urban road in the UK a lack of noise was stranger even on a Saturday morning..or even an early Saturday afternoon as at that moment Mike noticed that his alarm clock read ‘13.03’.
Drawing aside the curtains gave Mike a view of London not generally seen in the movies, fields of roofs propagated with forests of TV antennas and Satellite dishes. Looking down Mike could see a couple of cars had hit a white van and the result looked pretty poor.
“Spooky!’ Mike said to himself as he also noticed a few cars had decided to leave the road and ploughed into houses that ran along the road. Besides that the road was empty.
Mikes stomach turned over and made various drain like noises, which wasn’t encouraging. Quickly he changed out of the gear he had slept in and put on something a bit more suitable for wandering around, grabbing his jacket he made sure that he had his phone and wallet and headed towards the kitchen.
If the hallway was a mess, the kitchen was worse, with the bin overflowing with cans and bottles and the counter tops covered with pizza boxes and plates that at some stage last night had held ‘nibbles’. The glass bowl with neurofen was still full so Mike grabbed a strip to have a couple, after he’d had something to eat. As he headed out of the flat he poked his head into the lounge which seemed now to be ground zero for the disaster that had effected the rest of the flat. Amongst the debris were three more slumped bodies, one wearing a lime green skirt that had ridden up during the night and was showing a fair length of leg. For the life of him Mike couldn’t think who that was and so left the flat.
Walking down the stairs to the front door Mike noticed a distinct lack of noise in the building, all he could think was that lots of people we recovering from parties held to watch last nights light show. As he reached the front door Mike caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His blond hair was pretty scraggy, too much stubble and when he turned to look his eyes were red rimmed pissholes in snow. Food and the more sleep seemed a very good idea.
Opening the front door meant that he got a full whiff of the leaking diesel and petrol coming from the car crash he could also hear what sound like a fire and there was also a burning smell in the air. And no sirens, in fact almost no noise at all.
Mike felt a rush of indecision, this was all a bit too much to take in his current fragile state but the need for food and an instant sugar fix overcame a need for feeling secure. So he moved off down the street and got about 10 meters before remembering the car crash. Hesitantly he turned around and almost did a 360 before steeling himself and walked slowly over to the mangled metallic mess. All three drivers were clearly dead, one was hanging half out of his windscreen. The van had a passenger and they looked pretty dead as well. Walking around avoiding the leaking petrol, diesel and blood, Mike could see that all three vehicles seemed to be filled with gear. Suitcases and the like.
It was clear that there was nothing he could do, so Mike pulled out his iPhone and dialled 999 only to get ‘All our operators are busy please ring again shortly’. Alone on the street next to the crash site mike couldn’t get it. No sirens anywhere and yet they were busy?! Mike flicked on Twitter to see what other people were saying….
TBC
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Few Ugly Days (Prologue pts 1 & 2)
Note: both reposted from Jspace but this time in one piece
Prologue pt 1
The missile was a long way from home, according to it’s records it was currently sitting in an munitions store in the Hellenic military base of Eleusina about 20km’s NW of Athens. This however had little bearing on its ability to cross the distance between the small freighter and HMAS Bathurst in less than a second.
The bridge windows were constructed from armoured glass, however they had little resistance against the mass of the missile travelling at over 400m/sec. Within a microsecond of it entering the bridge the bursting charge expelled the reactive gas mixture into the bridge area, before the detonator charge ignited the fuel/air gas mixture.
All the bridge crew had been stunned by the concussive force of the missile blasting through the bridge window and the fuselage of the missile had almost reached the rear of the bridge before the F/A mixture exploded. The results were catastrophic.
The ignition by the detonator charge turned the cloud of explosives into a superheated pressure wave that burned through the ship at high speed. It blew out every window and porthole plus any hatches. The pressure wave also distorted the keel and superstructure causing numerous splits in the aluminium sheeting of the exterior of the ship. The blast wave also damaged the fire suppressant system and so when the fires started and the aluminium started to burn it was less than useless. The roof of the bridge whilst not blown off completely, peeled back raggedly like the lid of a tin of beans
Fortunately for most of the crew the pressure wave killed or incapacitated them before the fires started. It was only the two engineers in the engine room who were unlucky enough to survive the pressure wave the only thing that saved them from dying painfully in the metal fires was the poisonous fumes that permeated the lowers spaces in short order.
In less than a minute after the missile struck the Bathurst was listed badly and fires were raging throughout causing the ammo stores for the typhoon 25mm cannon and the small arms stored onboard to cook off causing even more damage. The fuel lines were also ruptured by this time which contributed to a build up of fumes which exploded just over 4 minutes later breaking the back of the Bathurst.
As soon as the ammo started to cook off the freighter moved away and the captain had men checking the airspace to make hopefully spot any airborne surveillance. HMAS Bathurst sank just less than half and hour after the unprovoked attack. Except for the security team held on the freighter there were no survivors.
In the next few days the body count would rise tremendously.
Prologue pt 2: Meeting
The General’s limousine bounced softly down the lightly rutted track that had ran off from the edge of Cadasari village. The track led to a small plantation that obviously dated back to colonial times, although with the plantation house’s bright whitewashed walls, it was clear that the owners took pride in their home.
It was the clearly armed guards at the compounds gate with green inscribed headbands, that reminded the General that he was a stranger here. He was also only a go between, a facilitator because of his links with the man he had come to meet. No longer holding an active role in the Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia (or ABRI) the General still had his fingers in many places hence his visit today.
His driver a veteran of Kopassus’ SAT-81 Gultor anti-terrorist unit broke from his usual silence
“Looks like the Madhi like to be protected by Arabs rather than us poor locals, Boss”
The General just shook his head and smiled
“Don’t let them hear you call him the Mahdi Try, these people don’t have a sense of humour”
Try just smirked
“Better to put your faith in a MP5 than a green headband boss”
The General laughed, for the first time in days
“I know, I know but let’s be careful here, yes?”
‘Yes Boss’ came Try’s response
As the limo reached the gates four guards stood in front of the open gateway. Three of the four clearly form the middle east wearing bushy beards, the fourth a local man who was desperately trying to be as righteous as his fellow guards but only managing a straggly piece of face fungus. All of the guards were armed, two with AKMS’s (both with the stocks extended as they both had a 75 rnd drum mag inserted), the local had a battered Uzi and the tallest of the four had a grenade launcher which Try recognized as a South African Milkor MGL.
The limo stopped and the Uzi totting guard moved over to the drivers door whilst one of the Kalashnikov wielders moved to the passenger side of thee limo and the other went to the rear. The grenade totting guard remained in place like some Classical stone guardian his eyes scanning the tree line at the edge of the plantation estate.
The Indonesian guard knocked timidly on the driver’s
“Please could you identify yourselves and open the trunk?”
Try bristled at this “WE don..”
His outburst was stalled by the General’s hand on his shoulder.
“I am General Feisal Sudirman, I’m here to meet the Emir? Try open the trunk for the gentlemen”
‘Yes boss” grumbled his driver, and the trunk popped up, all the men could hear the man at the back rummaging through the trunk’s contents. There was a brief pause and then the sound of smashing glass as the bottle of the General’s favorite tipple Johnny Walker blue label was destroyed in a fit of religious pique. Then the trunk lid was slammed down shut.
The Indonesian guard smiled nervously
‘My apologies General the Emir allows no alcohol on the grounds, you may proceed through. I’m sorry but your driver must remain in the car during your meeting.”
So saying the guards moved away from the limo and Try let off the break and drove to the front of the house before pulling up facing the gates. He then got out of the car and opened the Generals for him.
‘Thank you Try. Stay calm be prepared, yes?”
‘Yes boss’.
The General straightened his back and walked up the steps and into the shade of the veranda.
The front of the house was framed by a veranda and all four windows had heavy metal shutters (which were closed) and a heavy teak double door. A small brass bell hung to the right of the doorway. The first thing the General noticed was that there seemed to be no sound of nature no insects humming no birds singing it was as if nature was hushed and wished not to be noticed. He shivered and hoped it was not a premonition.
Striding to the doors he rang the bell. After about half a minute the doors opened and a tall heavy built man stepped out. He was dressed simply in white but carried a MP5K on a shoulder harness. To the General he looked European but the mans tan was so deep it was hard to say.
“You are the General?”
Gen Sudirman nodded
“Follow me” said the guard and turned on his heel and moved back into the house.
Given no choice the General entered the house. Like the outside the interior was spotless although sparse red tiles on the floor and whitewashed walls and ceilings with only the odd rug or piece of furniture gave the house an echoic feeling. The only items on the walls were some beautifully rendered pieces of calligraphy representing parts of the Koran.
It took only a few moments for the General and his guide to reach the central courtyard. This again was spare with the garden beds empty but covered by small pebbles. The fountain in the centre though was working and the sound of the water falling was a counterpoint to the seeming unending silence of the house and it’s surroundings. The veranda surrounding the courtyard was also sparse with only a couple of worn wooden benches offering some form of relief for the eye. Next to the fountain was a simple round metal table and two chairs both metal. The scars on their painted metal surfaces hinted that they may have been owned by the Dutch colonials, who had originally owned this plantation.
At the table sat the current owner of the property. He also was dressed in plain white clothes and as the General approached, the military veteran could not help but be amazed at a man who had been imprisoned & tortured could still look twenty years younger than his actual 62 years.
The emir looked up as the two men drew closer.
“Ah, Feisal you are early I think? But no matter, please take a seat”
This the General did with few qualms.
“Please excuse my guards, they are overly cautious and protective of me, especially with our upcoming project. Everything is going according to plan I hope?”
The General clear his throat.
‘Err.. yes, all assets are in place and the initial forces will initiate action in tonight at about 20:00hrs local. The airport and harbour incursions should occur within 15 minutes of each other hopefully, given current conditions.’
“God willing” added the Emir
“Er.. yes God willing” replied the General.
“And the president still approves of this?”
“the presidents position is difficult as the recent food and fuel riots have made the political scene uncertain”
A brief smile flashed across the Emirs unlined face
“Yes the recent riots it is most fortunate that Allah has allowed the people to rise up against the injustices put upon them by the infidels and their allies in power..is it not?” the Emirs will shone out from his eyes as he said this, making the General wonder how spontaneous the riots had actually been.
Suddenly the Emir stood up.
“You may return now, my friend as I’m sure that you are needed at the operations post”
Surprised at this dismissal, the General stayed seated
“I was wondering if I might see my son? To see how he is getting on”
“You should be very proud of him he has decided to join the fedayheen on the main ship, so you will be able to see him when the beachhead is secure.”
The General was taken aback
“Oh I see”
The emir grinned widely
“Do not take me for a fool Feisal, his presence in the front wave should ensure that you will pursue this to the very end, I will see you tomorrow.”
The General left the building deep in thought, the main image in his mind during the drive back to the operations centre was that of his son. Try ever the good man that he was, respected his boss’ silence and made the journey in good time. Elsewhere the pawns moved into play.
Prologue pt 1
The missile was a long way from home, according to it’s records it was currently sitting in an munitions store in the Hellenic military base of Eleusina about 20km’s NW of Athens. This however had little bearing on its ability to cross the distance between the small freighter and HMAS Bathurst in less than a second.
The bridge windows were constructed from armoured glass, however they had little resistance against the mass of the missile travelling at over 400m/sec. Within a microsecond of it entering the bridge the bursting charge expelled the reactive gas mixture into the bridge area, before the detonator charge ignited the fuel/air gas mixture.
All the bridge crew had been stunned by the concussive force of the missile blasting through the bridge window and the fuselage of the missile had almost reached the rear of the bridge before the F/A mixture exploded. The results were catastrophic.
The ignition by the detonator charge turned the cloud of explosives into a superheated pressure wave that burned through the ship at high speed. It blew out every window and porthole plus any hatches. The pressure wave also distorted the keel and superstructure causing numerous splits in the aluminium sheeting of the exterior of the ship. The blast wave also damaged the fire suppressant system and so when the fires started and the aluminium started to burn it was less than useless. The roof of the bridge whilst not blown off completely, peeled back raggedly like the lid of a tin of beans
Fortunately for most of the crew the pressure wave killed or incapacitated them before the fires started. It was only the two engineers in the engine room who were unlucky enough to survive the pressure wave the only thing that saved them from dying painfully in the metal fires was the poisonous fumes that permeated the lowers spaces in short order.
In less than a minute after the missile struck the Bathurst was listed badly and fires were raging throughout causing the ammo stores for the typhoon 25mm cannon and the small arms stored onboard to cook off causing even more damage. The fuel lines were also ruptured by this time which contributed to a build up of fumes which exploded just over 4 minutes later breaking the back of the Bathurst.
As soon as the ammo started to cook off the freighter moved away and the captain had men checking the airspace to make hopefully spot any airborne surveillance. HMAS Bathurst sank just less than half and hour after the unprovoked attack. Except for the security team held on the freighter there were no survivors.
In the next few days the body count would rise tremendously.
Prologue pt 2: Meeting
The General’s limousine bounced softly down the lightly rutted track that had ran off from the edge of Cadasari village. The track led to a small plantation that obviously dated back to colonial times, although with the plantation house’s bright whitewashed walls, it was clear that the owners took pride in their home.
It was the clearly armed guards at the compounds gate with green inscribed headbands, that reminded the General that he was a stranger here. He was also only a go between, a facilitator because of his links with the man he had come to meet. No longer holding an active role in the Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia (or ABRI) the General still had his fingers in many places hence his visit today.
His driver a veteran of Kopassus’ SAT-81 Gultor anti-terrorist unit broke from his usual silence
“Looks like the Madhi like to be protected by Arabs rather than us poor locals, Boss”
The General just shook his head and smiled
“Don’t let them hear you call him the Mahdi Try, these people don’t have a sense of humour”
Try just smirked
“Better to put your faith in a MP5 than a green headband boss”
The General laughed, for the first time in days
“I know, I know but let’s be careful here, yes?”
‘Yes Boss’ came Try’s response
As the limo reached the gates four guards stood in front of the open gateway. Three of the four clearly form the middle east wearing bushy beards, the fourth a local man who was desperately trying to be as righteous as his fellow guards but only managing a straggly piece of face fungus. All of the guards were armed, two with AKMS’s (both with the stocks extended as they both had a 75 rnd drum mag inserted), the local had a battered Uzi and the tallest of the four had a grenade launcher which Try recognized as a South African Milkor MGL.
The limo stopped and the Uzi totting guard moved over to the drivers door whilst one of the Kalashnikov wielders moved to the passenger side of thee limo and the other went to the rear. The grenade totting guard remained in place like some Classical stone guardian his eyes scanning the tree line at the edge of the plantation estate.
The Indonesian guard knocked timidly on the driver’s
“Please could you identify yourselves and open the trunk?”
Try bristled at this “WE don..”
His outburst was stalled by the General’s hand on his shoulder.
“I am General Feisal Sudirman, I’m here to meet the Emir? Try open the trunk for the gentlemen”
‘Yes boss” grumbled his driver, and the trunk popped up, all the men could hear the man at the back rummaging through the trunk’s contents. There was a brief pause and then the sound of smashing glass as the bottle of the General’s favorite tipple Johnny Walker blue label was destroyed in a fit of religious pique. Then the trunk lid was slammed down shut.
The Indonesian guard smiled nervously
‘My apologies General the Emir allows no alcohol on the grounds, you may proceed through. I’m sorry but your driver must remain in the car during your meeting.”
So saying the guards moved away from the limo and Try let off the break and drove to the front of the house before pulling up facing the gates. He then got out of the car and opened the Generals for him.
‘Thank you Try. Stay calm be prepared, yes?”
‘Yes boss’.
The General straightened his back and walked up the steps and into the shade of the veranda.
The front of the house was framed by a veranda and all four windows had heavy metal shutters (which were closed) and a heavy teak double door. A small brass bell hung to the right of the doorway. The first thing the General noticed was that there seemed to be no sound of nature no insects humming no birds singing it was as if nature was hushed and wished not to be noticed. He shivered and hoped it was not a premonition.
Striding to the doors he rang the bell. After about half a minute the doors opened and a tall heavy built man stepped out. He was dressed simply in white but carried a MP5K on a shoulder harness. To the General he looked European but the mans tan was so deep it was hard to say.
“You are the General?”
Gen Sudirman nodded
“Follow me” said the guard and turned on his heel and moved back into the house.
Given no choice the General entered the house. Like the outside the interior was spotless although sparse red tiles on the floor and whitewashed walls and ceilings with only the odd rug or piece of furniture gave the house an echoic feeling. The only items on the walls were some beautifully rendered pieces of calligraphy representing parts of the Koran.
It took only a few moments for the General and his guide to reach the central courtyard. This again was spare with the garden beds empty but covered by small pebbles. The fountain in the centre though was working and the sound of the water falling was a counterpoint to the seeming unending silence of the house and it’s surroundings. The veranda surrounding the courtyard was also sparse with only a couple of worn wooden benches offering some form of relief for the eye. Next to the fountain was a simple round metal table and two chairs both metal. The scars on their painted metal surfaces hinted that they may have been owned by the Dutch colonials, who had originally owned this plantation.
At the table sat the current owner of the property. He also was dressed in plain white clothes and as the General approached, the military veteran could not help but be amazed at a man who had been imprisoned & tortured could still look twenty years younger than his actual 62 years.
The emir looked up as the two men drew closer.
“Ah, Feisal you are early I think? But no matter, please take a seat”
This the General did with few qualms.
“Please excuse my guards, they are overly cautious and protective of me, especially with our upcoming project. Everything is going according to plan I hope?”
The General clear his throat.
‘Err.. yes, all assets are in place and the initial forces will initiate action in tonight at about 20:00hrs local. The airport and harbour incursions should occur within 15 minutes of each other hopefully, given current conditions.’
“God willing” added the Emir
“Er.. yes God willing” replied the General.
“And the president still approves of this?”
“the presidents position is difficult as the recent food and fuel riots have made the political scene uncertain”
A brief smile flashed across the Emirs unlined face
“Yes the recent riots it is most fortunate that Allah has allowed the people to rise up against the injustices put upon them by the infidels and their allies in power..is it not?” the Emirs will shone out from his eyes as he said this, making the General wonder how spontaneous the riots had actually been.
Suddenly the Emir stood up.
“You may return now, my friend as I’m sure that you are needed at the operations post”
Surprised at this dismissal, the General stayed seated
“I was wondering if I might see my son? To see how he is getting on”
“You should be very proud of him he has decided to join the fedayheen on the main ship, so you will be able to see him when the beachhead is secure.”
The General was taken aback
“Oh I see”
The emir grinned widely
“Do not take me for a fool Feisal, his presence in the front wave should ensure that you will pursue this to the very end, I will see you tomorrow.”
The General left the building deep in thought, the main image in his mind during the drive back to the operations centre was that of his son. Try ever the good man that he was, respected his boss’ silence and made the journey in good time. Elsewhere the pawns moved into play.
Hunter and Hunted
Note: another repost
The Hunter had stalked his Prey down Bermondsey’s dark and wet, winding streets from Jamaica Road to this small alley way behind Southwark markets. The hunt had taken nearly two hours with the Prey using every trick at it’s disposal to get away.
The Hunter knew that his Prey would beg and plead and try to make a deal but he knew he was right as a normal person would have gone straight to the police, or even called out for help. The streets still having city workers wandering around on their way home form the pub or maybe even work.
As his Prey slid into the mouth of the alleyway he saw her slip, so the Hunter was not surprised to find her sprawled, legs akimbo, half dazed against a fire door. There was only one light in the alley and it’s pale dim light almost seemed to turn the scene into monochrome.
Entering the alley the Hunter drew his OTs-38 revolver and held it by his side almost out of sight. This was the first time he’d been less than twenty or so meters from his Prey and so as he carefully stepped closer he took in details.
Superficially the Prey looked like a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair cut in a semi- bob with a couple of metallic pink streaks in it. He face was angular and thin with minimal makeup except for heavily kohled eyes and a metallic green lip gloss. Her body was slim again in keeping with how old she looked but her legs held more strength than they looked considering the chase she had led him.
He clothes were a mismatch of old and new. Old style black pumps with a bright ankle chain. Denim miniskirt with footless black stockings, a clearly visible wonder bra under a carefully ripped “the beat” t-shirt. Covering that, a brand new cropped hoodie.
Seeing him look her up and down the Prey smiled and the girls face suddenly looked much older and sexual.
“look I don’t have much gear” she said in a shaky voice ‘if that’s what you’re after. I sold most of it already, kno’ what I mean?”
The Prey looked the Hunter in the eyes trying to gauge his reaction.
“But if you want more well I sure we can work it out” again the voice spoke with more sexuality, dripped with it in fact and she moved her legs to amplify her meaning. This stopped the Hunter in his tracks and he could feel her words moving like worms in his mind.
His left hand came out of his coat pocket clenched tightly and with a quick flick of his wrist he sent a shower of metal particles arching towards his Prey, as they landed he heard his Prey whimper.
“No, please, they burn, they burn” her voice had changed again this time thinner, less human? The Hunter could make out small red patinae on the girls skin where the powered iron had landed.
The Prey looked at him again, holding out her slim pale (and now) marked arms. ‘Please make it stop, I’ll do anything, anything ..I just want to go home”
As is often the way it then chose to start raining, quickly turning into a downpour and the powdered iron was washed away in seconds.
The Preys eyes lit up and were a deep emerald green and she found more strength from somewhere and stood up.
“Yes lets go home and we can heal each other” her voice and eyes were almost too much for the Hunter. They both carried a coercive power that hammered away at his self control and he could visualise how pleasurable it would be with her.
The Prey’s lips curled into a houris smile as she could see the conflicting emotions pass across the Hunters face.
“yes come to me” she said holding out her arms her voice dropping into a husky tone.
The Prey so confident that she was now the Hunter missed the small red dot that had appeared on her left shoulder. The driving rain crashing as it did onto the alleys floor hid the revolvers report almost completely.
The impact of the bullet was a shock to the Prey and she staggered back a couple of paces her right hand instinctively going to her wounded shoulder. A look of amazement flitted across her face as she collapsed to the puddled pavement.
Whilst his victim collapsed, the Hunter recovered his composure and replaced the silenced revolver in it’s pocket holster. Straightening his back and shaking his head he pulled a tanto like knife from it’s scabbard on the inside of his right arm. A bright red sliver of a gem imbedded in it’s crosspiece glowed in the dull lamplight almost as is it was lit with an inner fire.
The Hunter knelt on one knee beside his Prey and stroked the girls hair with his gloved hand.
‘You’ll be truly home soon” he promised and his left hand guided the knife deep into her heart. The Prey’s body jerked briefly but no sound issued forth from her lips (which now looks dull and ashen). The gem seemed to glow brighter for a moment, and when the knife was withdrawn little blood exited form the deep wound. The street light finally gave up the ghost and plunged the alleyway finally into complete darkness.
Standing again the Hunter looked briefly around before walking back into the wet night. Avoiding the gaze of security camera’s that littered the area the Hunter moved back towards London Bridge Station. Feeling the need for human company he caught a train to Charing Cross and wander up Charing Cross Road towards Leicester Square finally stopping at the Brewmaster pub.
The pub was busy as usual on a Thursday night but the Hunter revelled in the mass of humanity and drank his over priced beer relaxing for a moment. Finishing the pint, he left and moved towards Covent Garden, the rain easing off as he went. Before reaching the Piazza his phone rang.
“Yes?”
“It’s Marcus” said his caller “how was the meeting?”
“Changeable” replied the Hunter “The girl was away with the fairies, but I got what we wanted”
“Good, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow”
‘Yes” said the Hunter and hung up.
High above a thin crescent moon broke through the clouds as the Hunter returned to his lair.
The Hunter had stalked his Prey down Bermondsey’s dark and wet, winding streets from Jamaica Road to this small alley way behind Southwark markets. The hunt had taken nearly two hours with the Prey using every trick at it’s disposal to get away.
The Hunter knew that his Prey would beg and plead and try to make a deal but he knew he was right as a normal person would have gone straight to the police, or even called out for help. The streets still having city workers wandering around on their way home form the pub or maybe even work.
As his Prey slid into the mouth of the alleyway he saw her slip, so the Hunter was not surprised to find her sprawled, legs akimbo, half dazed against a fire door. There was only one light in the alley and it’s pale dim light almost seemed to turn the scene into monochrome.
Entering the alley the Hunter drew his OTs-38 revolver and held it by his side almost out of sight. This was the first time he’d been less than twenty or so meters from his Prey and so as he carefully stepped closer he took in details.
Superficially the Prey looked like a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair cut in a semi- bob with a couple of metallic pink streaks in it. He face was angular and thin with minimal makeup except for heavily kohled eyes and a metallic green lip gloss. Her body was slim again in keeping with how old she looked but her legs held more strength than they looked considering the chase she had led him.
He clothes were a mismatch of old and new. Old style black pumps with a bright ankle chain. Denim miniskirt with footless black stockings, a clearly visible wonder bra under a carefully ripped “the beat” t-shirt. Covering that, a brand new cropped hoodie.
Seeing him look her up and down the Prey smiled and the girls face suddenly looked much older and sexual.
“look I don’t have much gear” she said in a shaky voice ‘if that’s what you’re after. I sold most of it already, kno’ what I mean?”
The Prey looked the Hunter in the eyes trying to gauge his reaction.
“But if you want more well I sure we can work it out” again the voice spoke with more sexuality, dripped with it in fact and she moved her legs to amplify her meaning. This stopped the Hunter in his tracks and he could feel her words moving like worms in his mind.
His left hand came out of his coat pocket clenched tightly and with a quick flick of his wrist he sent a shower of metal particles arching towards his Prey, as they landed he heard his Prey whimper.
“No, please, they burn, they burn” her voice had changed again this time thinner, less human? The Hunter could make out small red patinae on the girls skin where the powered iron had landed.
The Prey looked at him again, holding out her slim pale (and now) marked arms. ‘Please make it stop, I’ll do anything, anything ..I just want to go home”
As is often the way it then chose to start raining, quickly turning into a downpour and the powdered iron was washed away in seconds.
The Preys eyes lit up and were a deep emerald green and she found more strength from somewhere and stood up.
“Yes lets go home and we can heal each other” her voice and eyes were almost too much for the Hunter. They both carried a coercive power that hammered away at his self control and he could visualise how pleasurable it would be with her.
The Prey’s lips curled into a houris smile as she could see the conflicting emotions pass across the Hunters face.
“yes come to me” she said holding out her arms her voice dropping into a husky tone.
The Prey so confident that she was now the Hunter missed the small red dot that had appeared on her left shoulder. The driving rain crashing as it did onto the alleys floor hid the revolvers report almost completely.
The impact of the bullet was a shock to the Prey and she staggered back a couple of paces her right hand instinctively going to her wounded shoulder. A look of amazement flitted across her face as she collapsed to the puddled pavement.
Whilst his victim collapsed, the Hunter recovered his composure and replaced the silenced revolver in it’s pocket holster. Straightening his back and shaking his head he pulled a tanto like knife from it’s scabbard on the inside of his right arm. A bright red sliver of a gem imbedded in it’s crosspiece glowed in the dull lamplight almost as is it was lit with an inner fire.
The Hunter knelt on one knee beside his Prey and stroked the girls hair with his gloved hand.
‘You’ll be truly home soon” he promised and his left hand guided the knife deep into her heart. The Prey’s body jerked briefly but no sound issued forth from her lips (which now looks dull and ashen). The gem seemed to glow brighter for a moment, and when the knife was withdrawn little blood exited form the deep wound. The street light finally gave up the ghost and plunged the alleyway finally into complete darkness.
Standing again the Hunter looked briefly around before walking back into the wet night. Avoiding the gaze of security camera’s that littered the area the Hunter moved back towards London Bridge Station. Feeling the need for human company he caught a train to Charing Cross and wander up Charing Cross Road towards Leicester Square finally stopping at the Brewmaster pub.
The pub was busy as usual on a Thursday night but the Hunter revelled in the mass of humanity and drank his over priced beer relaxing for a moment. Finishing the pint, he left and moved towards Covent Garden, the rain easing off as he went. Before reaching the Piazza his phone rang.
“Yes?”
“It’s Marcus” said his caller “how was the meeting?”
“Changeable” replied the Hunter “The girl was away with the fairies, but I got what we wanted”
“Good, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow”
‘Yes” said the Hunter and hung up.
High above a thin crescent moon broke through the clouds as the Hunter returned to his lair.
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