Gavin Smith: Crysis: Escalation

‘What, the East End hard-man got nothing to say?’ Perkins mocked.

‘See those guys over there?’ Lumley asked, trying to ignore Perkins. Psycho nodded. He’d been watching the two men in dark civilian clothes carrying high-end military gear. They were crouched behind a car about two hundred metres to their left. One of them was observing the same tower block that Perkins’ squad had been assigned to watch through a pair of binoculars. He had a boxy device slung across his shoulder. Psycho recognised the device as a laser designator. The other man was covering him whilst speaking into a radio headset. Presumably relaying the instructions being given to him by the observer.

‘Special forces,’ Psycho muttered. Lumley nodded.

‘They’ll be forward observing for the Anguish ,’ Lumley said. Psycho nodded in agreement. That made him very nervous indeed. It was one thing to exchange gunfire in the streets with these kids. It was another altogether to start lobbing ordinance into south London.

‘Corporal,’ Walker said. There was something wrong with the brummie’s voice. Psycho glanced round. Walker looked shocked. He had the headset for the TSV’s radio on.

‘What is it, Walker?’ Perkins asked, concerned.

‘Someone’s just fired ten LAW 80 rockets into the Houses of Parliament,’ Walker told them. Psycho and Lumley glanced round at him. The rest of the squad were staring at Walker, appalled.

‘Fuck,’ Perkins said.

‘They’re pulling us back to the FOB,’ Walker said.

‘Fucking little cunts,’ Perkins spat. He had the marksman’s rifle up and was scanning the front of the tower again.

‘Perkins, what’re you doing?’ Psycho asked. Perkins turned on the Londoner.

‘Shut your mouth, you disloyal little bastard!’ Perkins went back to scanning the front of the tower block. Lumley glanced around, looking up at the corporal, worried, and then went back to covering her section through the optical sight of her SA80.

‘Orders?’ Psycho asked the Corporal.

‘When have you ever given a fuck about orders?’

The sound of the marksman rifle firing echoed around the canyons made by the surrounding tower blocks. Psycho felt his blood run cold. He noticed that the two special forces troopers turned to stare appalled at the Para squad. Psycho saw someone drop on one of the tower block landings.

‘What the fuck’re you doing!?’ Psycho demanded, not turning round, keeping up observation of the front of the tower block, his Minimi at the ready.

‘That was a kid, he wasn’t even armed!’ Lumley said. She was also scanning her section.

‘No, it wasn’t…’ Perkins started. Psycho could hear the panic in the Corporal’s voice.

Then it looked like the entire front of the tower block opened up on them. Gunmen and women appeared from almost every apartment. Fire was pouring down on them. Most of it was inaccurate, but there were a few people in the tower block that knew what they were doing. Thank you, the Offenders Conscription Act, Psycho thought. He, like Lumley, was just hunkering down behind the sandbags as bullets rained down, sparking off the streets.

‘Contact, contact!’ Perkins was screaming.

‘Smoke!’ Psycho shouted. Nothing happened. ‘Walker, smoke!’ Where was Geordie on the .50? Psycho wondered. He glanced around. Geordie and Walker were taking cover as bullets sparked off the TSV’s superstructure. He couldn’t see Walowski. Perkins was all but lying in the vehicle’s footwell, trying to start it up.

Lumley fired the SA80’s underslung grenade launcher blindly over the top of the sandbag. The teargas grenade wouldn’t provide them with as much cover as the smoke projectors on the TSV, but it was a start.

‘Under the wagon and get the .50 up?’ Psycho shouted at her. Lumley nodded. Psycho popped up and started firing long bursts from the Minimi, hoping to keep people’s heads down. Lumley scrambled across the floor under the TSV and up onto the back of the vehicle. Psycho then had a chance to realise the stupidity of drawing attention to himself in this situation. It felt like everyone in the world was firing at him. He curled up behind the sandbags and tried not to get shot through pure positive mental attitude. It didn’t work. His body armour was taking hits. Each one felt like he’d been hit with a baseball bat. He was glad that he’d upgraded his body armour out of his own pocket.

On the back of the TSV Lumley dragged Geordie out of the way of the .50 cal, racked the heavy machine-gun’s bolt and turned it on the front of the tower block.

Psycho was pretty sure that the slow, rhythmic hammering of the .50 cal was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. The fire slackened off as large holes started appearing in the tower block in explosions of powdered concrete. He was aware of an SA80 firing and then the jimpy started firing as well.

‘Stop firing!’ Perkins screamed at Lumley from the footwell of the TSV. ‘You’ll draw their fire. Stop firing, you stupid bitch, that’s a fucking order!’ Lumley ignored him. ‘I’ll fucking have you shot for this!’

Psycho saw the tracers from the .50 cal and the jimpy flying overhead. Keeping low, he started back towards the TSV, firing bust after burst from the Minimi anywhere he saw muzzle flashes.

Psycho reached the TSV and found Perkins in the footwell on the driver’s side, still trying to start the vehicle blindly. Psycho hit the button for the driver’s side smoke projectors. Four smoke canisters popped out of the tubes angled away from the vehicle. They hit the street and started emitting thick smoke. He grabbed Perkins and dragged him bodily out of the vehicle. Perkins scrambled under the TSV. Psycho unclipped the Minimi from its sling and tossed it into the back of the vehicle and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

Smoke was rapidly filling the street, obscuring the tower block’s view of the TSV.

‘Cease fire!’ Psycho shouted as he started up the engine. If they lit up the smoke with muzzle flashes then the people with guns would know where they were. Lumley and Walker stopped firing and immediately hunkered down as rounds were still sparking off the superstructure. Perkins threw himself into the back of TSV.

‘Drive! Get this vehicle moving, Private Sykes!’ Perkins screamed at him. Psycho put the vehicle into reverse, swung it around ninety degrees and then headed down the street. ‘Walker, Lumley, I need you on the MGs now,’ Psycho shouted. Both of them got up, Walker reluctantly. Lumley swung the .50 round so it was aiming back up the way they had come at the street full of thick smoke.

All of them were thrown forwards as Psycho slammed on the brakes.

‘What the fuck are you doing!?’ Perkins screamed from where he was lying in the back of the TSV. ‘Get this vehicle moving now!’

The two special forces troopers leapt into the back of the vehicle.

‘Appreciate it,’ one of the special forces guys said and started covering out the back of the TSV.

‘I think your friends have had it,’ the other one said. Psycho looked behind him. The top of Walowski’s head was missing. He couldn’t see the wound that had killed Geordie, he just saw the man’s dead eyes staring up at the night sky. Perkins was still screaming at him. One of the special forces guys put their hand on his shoulder.

‘Mate, trust me on this, you need to start driving, okay?’

Psycho nodded and started heading for the FOB. He could see the unmistakable silhouette of the derelict power station ahead of him as he watched the light from the missile’s engines rise into the sky beyond the FOB.

‘Look, we say nothing about it kicking off, okay,’ Perkins said. Nobody answered.

Yeah right, Psycho thought, who would have thought Mrs Sykes’ little boy was going to turn grass?