The rain book 2 intermis.., p.7
The Rain Book 2: Intermission, page 7
Our Abrams have not been idle, though, one after another, the Kurganets get peeled off. One is able to take one of our Abrams down as well, but all four Kurganets are either obliterated or unable to move.
“Fire!” Colin yells, moving up over the crest of the dune, immediately opening fire at the scattering Russians, trying to find cover behind the ruins of their vehicles.
While firing at the hostiles about thirty yards from us, I try to keep an eye on the Gulf. The sea battle is still in high gear, but as far as troop transporters go, I only see two dancing above the waves. We took down two; further down the shore, the military did as well. And Martin's other squads have taken down another three transporters. If I count the two or three, we witnessed just plain vanish in the seas, that leaves twelve to thirteen transporters unaccounted for. But where are they? Did our Navy shoot them down?
They had the superior forces. They would have easily overrun us if everything had gone to plan. They would have all landed as one, overwhelming us. Whatever happened out there on the ocean, saved our asses.
A Russian down below is waving something like a white flag now, screaming words in a language I don't understand.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Colin calls out.
Slowly the constant banging of the ARs comes to a stop. The hostiles step wearily out from their covers, their hands raised, and their guns discarded.
“Ruiz, Viv, Jose, get down there and secure the prisoners. The rest of us will cover you.” Colin orders.
I swing my AR behind my back and slide down the short hill. About fifty Russians stand in a line, turning their backs to us, hands crossed. Without us having to tell them, they know the routine. I guess it's international.
Trusting Colin and my friends to keep their guns on the prisoners, I pull out the first zip tie from the depth of my cargo pants and secure it around the man's wrists. I have never done anything like this before, but it goes astonishingly easy. Within five minutes, all captives are secured and sit in a circle in the sand.
“Now what?” I ask Colin, staring at the detainees. Even though we've secured one transporter, two more are still inbound, and out on the water, the sea- and air battle are still going strong.
“Guys got room for some more?” Martin makes his way over to us, another sixty or so prisoners in tow, guarded by ten of his militiamen.
“The more the merrier.” Colin acknowledges with a slight grin, glad to see his dad alive and well.
Martin tells his soldiers where to take the prisoners.
“Alright, two more are inb….”
“Holy mother of Jesus,” Jose exclaims, as one of the transporters is tossed up. It breaks in two when it hits the water.
“Over there.” Colin points towards the last amphibious transporter about to make landfall.
As one, we cradle our ARs and fall into a fast run, driven by the need to peel off the Russians as they disembark. But before we get too close, a well-placed missile from one of our jets takes care of it, and the metallic carrier turns into a ginormous fireball.
Chapter 12
I look around; the devastation is surreal. The foam from the waves is pink, and I shudder at the amount of how much blood it would take to cause that. Behind me, the harbor is in flames, and multiple fires burn in Anchorage. Presumably, at the airport and the Airforce Base as well.
The Russian captives are herded away from the beach, a beach littered with bodies. Russian and ours.
Colin keeps looking out towards the sea, where the giant ships still battle with each other, while our jets create havoc on the Russian destroyers.
The prisoners and their guards reach the first dunes when suddenly, the Russians scream something we don't understand and take of running.
“Fire,” Martin yells at the guards.
And they do, just not at the fleeing Russians. They're aiming at something I can't see from my vantage point, at least not yet. But then the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear the familiar hissing, turning into a roar.
“Shit.” I curse, checking my mag, but it's still fresh. “Heads up, everybody.”
Out of seemingly nowhere, dinosaurs come screeching towards us. Without hesitation, they make a beeline for the unarmed Russian prisoners first, but soon don't discriminate. While a few dinosaurs go down under the gunfire, more emerge from the dunes. I shoot in short bursts, keeping my AR high, aiming for the large lizards' heads for fear of hitting the fleeing people.
These beasts are much bigger than anything I've seen so far. Not T-Rex big, but at least eight feet tall; some might even reach nine. Big enough to put the fear of God in me.
The monster's heads are enormous, their teeth the size of a baby's hand. A shiver goes down my spine as one of the creatures sets its lizard eyes on me. Oh no, you don't, I think and aim. The shot is true, and it goes down, but another one comes and another.
“Back up,” Martin instructs. “Keep firing, but back up. And for God's sake, cover the prisoners.”
As much havoc as the dinosaurs create, they are large targets and no match for our ARs, killing the creatures before they can come too close. Colin and I run twenty feet forward, aim, shoot, repeat, until we're close enough to join the human wall of soldiers, shielding the prisoners. The rest of our squad closely follows us.
Colonel Pheng's soldiers arrive from further down the beach, and between the military and the militia, we create a decent sized dent into the numbers of the giant lizards. But they won't give up. They don't seem to know fear and keep advancing, despite their numbers becoming decimated.
During a short lull, I glance towards the Gulf, the sea battle is still in full force, but to my utter disbelief, I can now make out large bodies coming up and diving back down, like whales. But far too big to be a whale, even to my untrained eyes. A long neck appears for a brief moment, reminding me of images of the Loch Ness monster.
“Ah, bloody hell. They are in the water too.” I scream. “Do you think that's what got the fishermen Martin mentioned a few weeks ago?” I ask Colin, who haphazardly looks over his shoulder at the water, but all is still again.
He gives me a questioningly glance, just as another water monster appears. “There, by the sinking transporter.” I cry out and point excitedly at the beast.
He follows my line of sight, and it's easy to pinpoint the moment he, too, sees it. His eyes go round just like mine were before. “Shit. Can they come on land?”
“I dunno. We'll have to ask the professor.”
“Cover me.” He pushes his machine gun behind his back and pulls out his phone to take pictures. If it weren't so serious, I'd laugh.
“Are you playing tourist on me?” I can't help but ask.
“Just cover me, Rambo.” He replies dryly.
And that’s what I do. Swiveling my head, I assess our situation. Several soldiers are engaged with three dinosaurs about twenty yards from us. A larger dune blocks my view to the right, and I keep an eye on it, expecting a lizard's head to pop up at any second, but all stays clear.
Humvees arrive to take the prisoners away. Probably to Fort Richardson or the AF base.
I scan the water and notice an injured Russian struggling not far off. After a quick glance at Colin, who is done taking pictures and has his AR ready again, I run into the oncoming waves to give the Russian a hand. The woman clasps her right hand to her left arm, which is nothing more than a stump. Blood gushes down, combined with muscle and sinew. With my AR secured behind my back, my fingers are free to fumble for my belt. I work it out of my pants while I rush to her aid.
All the while, Colin covers us, checking our surroundings for any other incoming threats.
The sand shifts underneath my boots and a wave slaps against my knees, filling my shoes with icy cold water and soaking my pants. A shiver runs through my body, but I’ve finally reached the Russian woman. She stumbles as a larger wave hits her in the back of her calves, robs her of her balance. I make it to her side just in time to support her before she crumbles into the water.
I keep my face as neutral as I can, as I tie the belt around her upper arm–everything below the elbow is gone. A mess of loose muscles and flesh dangles from the gaping wound. I cinch the belt tight and give her an apologetic smile; she nods her understanding at me and winces.
Once her arm is secured, I put her other around my shoulder to support her weight back to shore. By now, she's whiter than a sheet, breathing shallowly, but is still conscious.
“Spasibo.” she pants.
I don't need to speak Russian to understand it and nod at her. “You're welcome.”
Colin reaches us and picks her up while I take over covering us. The rest of our squad stays back, searching for more injured and survivors.
We climb a steep dune and my toes squish inside their wet boots. The female soldier in Colin’s arms looks like she has finally passed out. Dead dinosaurs litter the ground, as well as soldiers. Help for the injured is under way though, and I can concentrate on covering us.
At least I can't see a trace of any living dinosaurs. But when my eyes come to rest on a man whose entire lower body is gone, and I recognize him, I almost throw up. It's hard to tell if Peters was hit by an RPG, grenade, or ripped apart by a dinosaur. Either way, it's an atrocity that shouldn't have happened.
The carnage is unbelievable and becomes clearer with the rising sun. Behind me, missiles still explode, and ships still try to sink each other. Jets roar above, sending their deadly loads onto the navy vessels as well.
A few hundred yards to the left, before we get to the Humvees that are busy loading prisoners and injured, a soldier reaches us and takes the unconscious Russian from Colin.
Without words, Colin and I turn and run to get back to our squad, all the while meticulously checking our surroundings. Before we even get close, though, faint cries of agony stop us dead in our tracks. In a fast sprint, ARs ready, we take off towards the sounds. Coming over the crest of a larger dune, the picture in front of us freezes my blood. A dinosaur munches away on a bloody human being. Whoever the person is—we can't even make out if it is a he or she, American or Russian, moans in agony.
Colin's AR barks three rounds in quick succession, and the monster goes down. Its massive body barely misses the injured soldier on the ground. Cautiously, but as fast as possible, we slide down the dune towards the prone figure in the sand.
“Go get a Humvee or something,” I yell at Colin while my still sliding body comes to a stop next to the almost unconscious soldier.
Colin's jaw works in indecision, his expression is grim, but he knows that I'm the more qualified first aid responder between the two of us. So he takes off, after one more worried glance towards the dunes, where more potential threats could be hiding.
I peel off my Kevlar vest and shirt to use as a compression. Immensely grateful that I've taken to wearing black underwear lately. Although my large cleavage always threatens to spill out of any bra, it's better than nothing.
My eyes sting when I recognize the injured soldier. “Drew? Drew, can you hear me?”
His eyes roll inside his head; he tries hard to focus on my voice. His face is covered in blood from a large laceration starting at the top of his forehead, reaching all the way down to his mouth—he's lucky he didn't lose an eye.
Assessing, my gaze moves over his body; bite marks are all over his arms and legs. They’re not just bite marks like somebody, or something clamped its teeth down. These are spots where flesh has been ripped and torn off. Drew's right calf looks badly chewed. I pull out my Tanto and use it to cut my shirt into long strips and to create a tourniquet just below his knee to stem the blood flow.
“Viv?” his voice is hoarse and weak. “Viv, it hurts. Don't let me die.”
I look up to meet his eyes and put all my conviction into my voice and expression. “You’re not going to die today. Do you understand?”
His eyes roll back, and he loses consciousness.
“Viv?” Somebody calls my name.
Chancing a quick look towards where the voice is coming from, I respond, “I'm here.”
A head appears from behind the dune, Michael. “Colin sent me to cover you.”
“Good, stay on top over there, where you have the best view,” I advise.
Slowly and carefully, I peel Drew's blood-soaked clothes off, hunting for more injuries. His blood is everywhere, mixed with the fine sand, it covers most of his body, impeding my search. He moans underneath my probing fingers.
“Do you have any water?” I call out to Michael.
“Sorry, no.”
Frantically, my eyes scan my surroundings for something to use. Finally, they land on an array of empty beer cans further off to my left.
“Michael, go get those beer cans and fill them up with seawater,” I call out, pointing.
“Colin wants me….” He protests.
“Just do it!” I yell in my most commanding voice. Poor Michael starts to run.
When I cut Drew's shirt and push it to the side, I find the source for most of his blood. A large gash just under his right ribcage is oozing blood at an alarming rate. The wound is deep and wide. Something off-white catches my eye, a rib. I swallow hard; this kid is badly injured. A lot worse than I’m comfortable dealing with. Dubiously I stare at what's left of my bloodstained, sweat-soaked shirt, before deciding to use parts of Drew's shirt. It's not any cleaner than mine, but it's drenched with his blood and sweat, and I figure his body might react better to it.
But honestly, I'm making stuff up; as I go, I'm way out of my comfort level here. I push what's left of the shirt down on the wound, and he screams in agony.
“Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry. I need to stop the bleeding.” I try to reassure him while his body thrashes against my hands until he stills, having passed out once more.
“Michael,” I yell out, frustrated. How long can it take to get some water?
“Coming.” He answers from not too far away, seconds later arriving with the beer cans.
“Did you rinse them out?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes at me before his face turns green when he recognizes Drew and notices the extent of his wounds.
“If you're going to throw up, go over there. As a matter of fact, go back up the dune.” I instruct sternly.
“Yes, ma'am.” I give him a quick glance, but there is not a hint of sarcasm in his voice or demeanor.
Using what's left of my shirt, I drench it in seawater to clean up Drew's face to assess his facial injuries. He moans when the salt of the seawater stings against his open skin, but thankfully he remains unconscious.
To my relief, just then, I hear the motor of an approaching Humvee in unison with the sound of Michael shooting his gun. Alarmed, I raise my head, and my blood runs cold at the sight of another enormous dinosaur emerging over the crest of a large dune. The creature roars loudly as it spots Drew and me.
Like an idiot, I tossed my AR to the side when I began administrating first aid to Drew because the damn thing got in my way. Now, it lays way out of my reach. I don't have enough time to get to it before the large lizard reaches us. But I'm able to get one of my Glocks out and shoot at the beast.
In disbelief I watch him still advancing, even after my bullets penetrated his skin. Michael's shots go wild, and deep in the recesses of my brain, I wonder who taught the kid how to shoot.
His face turns panicky as the dinosaur draws closer and closer. The lizard opens his huge jaw for a powerful roar, and I feel the heat of his stinking breath on me. I stare up at huge teeth covered in blood from a previous meal and shudder. I might not be afraid to die, but this is not how I want to go out.
I do the only thing I can; I fire straight into the monster's open mouth. He roars, agitated, as the bullet exits on the other side. But that's all. I'm out of time, out of options; I fold over Drew's body to cover him.
Another shot rings out, and this time the dinosaur stumbles back. He remains on his feet for a few moments before keeling over like a cartoon character.
“Vivian?” Colin's voice is filled with panic as he jumps out of the still running Humvee.
“I'm okay,” I assure, sitting up. I blink a few times; that was pretty damn close.
He takes me into his arms; his body trembles against mine, his worry for me evident. He lets go of me and looks down at Drew. “How is he?”
“He needs immediate medical attention,” I explain.
Colin looks up and seems to see me for the first time. “Vivian, what the hell?” He stares at my spilling cleavage.
“I needed the shirt for Drew, he….”
A chuckle rumbles through him before it turns into loud laughter; panting for breath, he points at Michael. “No wonder the kid couldn't shoot worth a damn.”
Michael, who has come down the dune, turns beet red. “I didn't... I mean… I was….”
“Shut up before you make it worse. Here, give me a hand with him.” Colin orders Michal, sobering from his outburst.
Michael puts the AR behind him and readies himself to give Colin a hand, but before he can do so, I demand, “Give me your shirt.”
He fumbles with his AR again before he's finally able to take off his shirt. Colin snickers all the while like there is no tomorrow. A glance towards the Humvee tells me the driver isn't doing much better when he's not busy ogling my top.
I throw Michael's shirt on and help the guys take Drew to the waiting army vehicle. “Michael, get in the back,” I order.
He scrambles into the back. “Try to hold his head still and keep the shirt pressed on the wound, okay?” I instruct.
Colin and I hop out of the Humvee, and Colin gives the driver the go-ahead to leave. With his arm around me, we watch the vehicle disappear behind another dune. Then, Colin looks at me and shakes his head. “You really know how to get into trouble.”
I sling my AR back over my shoulder. “What do you mean? This is hardly my fault.”
“If you'd just kept your shirt on, Michael might have actually hit the eight-foot dinosaur. For crying out loud, how can you miss a freaking dinosaur?”
