Part 11

Finale

5/12/2015, 0430 hours, Vardak Province, Afghanistan

           

Krieger adjusted the sight of his rifle. His men, and the people of this small village in the middle of Afghanistan, would be avenged. The remainder of his squad was loosely dispersed amongst the small clay huts around the Mosque. Hugo sat next to him, resting his rifle on a window ledge. He would give the order to fire, but Krieger wanted to wait until the right moment. He wanted to see the looks of terror on the opposing soldiers faces when his bullets tore through their bodies.

A man approached. He was wearing a bump helmet, little more protection than that of a bike helmet. A small, grey, plate carrier covered his chest, and magazines for his rifle, a bullpup F2000, stuck out of pouches mounted to it. He was making clicking noises as if trying to lure a cat, and looked tense. Krieger almost felt sorry as he gave the command to fire.

“Hugo, now.”

Hugo pressed a button mounted to his armor. “Raptor 2, you are clear to rip these bastards apart.”

Bullets rippled their bodies, and Krieger let out a maniacal laugh. This was almost too easy.

“Alright men, move out, sweep and clear!” he roared, before saying to Hugo in a quieter voice, “Stay here, take my pistol and use it to defend yourself. Don’t draw anyone’s attention.”

He charged out of the building, unleashing a primal battle cry as he went. One soldier to his right, already bleeding from a bullet wound, tried to crawl away, but a burst from his rifle ended the futile march. He charged through an alley and joined the rest of the squad on the next street. A Mercedes rounded the corner and the enemy soldiers began to climb down from the back. The squad unleashed a torrent of bullets that tore through the vehicle until it caught fire and exploded. Men screamed, the sound haunting, as they burned alive.

The firefight continued for nearly fifteen more minutes before Krieger gave his men the order to cease-fire. He then crawled from behind the small wall he had sat behind. It seemed as if they had eliminated everyone. Some of the other men moved to join him.

A man stirred near them, begging for mercy. Krieger granted it before asking “Tell me, why are you here?”

He trembled before replying, “You. You messed up everything.”

The man had a slight Japanese accent, but spoke near perfect English. Krieger looked him up and down. He wasn’t wearing the same uniform as the others. Whereas the others had worn helmets, he had worn only a baseball cap, which now lay nearby. A pistol lay by his side, just out of reach. He was different than the others, and his men had picked up on it.

“Tell me, who are you?” inquired Krieger.

“Me?” the man began to laugh, but was struck by a spurt of coughing. He spat out a vile mixture of blood and phlegm, before continuing. “That is a damn good question Sergeant Krieger.”

Krieger was unsettled by the use of his name, but continued his interrogation. “I said, who the fuck are you?” he seethed.

“Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is that if you don’t leave now, the sound of your fighting will draw out the Viscofonius, and you don’t want to fight them.” He began laughing again, but was stopped when Reeder shot his leg.

“Stop talking in fucking riddles asshole! Talk!” yelled Reeder, his patience having been lost. “Who are you, and what in the fuck is a Viscofonius?”

The man lay still for a second. “My name is Tokuma. I am head of security at Mascom’s Mumbai Headquarters. And you Reeder, are interfering with serious scientific research,” Tokuma barked, before pausing just long enough for a deafening roar to echo across the valley. “And that my friends, is a Viscofonius orgi.”

            “Thumper, bind him. He probably has more valuable information we can use,” ordered Krieger. “And let’s hurry back to Hugo, I don’t want to be here when a ‘Viscofonius’ shows up.”

            Tokuma chuckled.

 

 

The story continues next month in…

 

ESCAPE!