James Tarr - Dogsoldiers

“How bad is it for us?”

Ed shook his head. “At least twenty dead, probably more.” The dogsoldiers didn’t count wounded as casualties, not when you could still fight. “Maybe a lot more if Eagle Eye got hit hard. They’re underground so they’re out of radio range. Hell, they’ve probably dumped their radios so they can’t be tracked. RoadRunner got pretty banged up, and SkyBox had a bit of a fight getting back down to the lobby. That IMP took out four of Flintstone’s people when it grenaded the north side of Nakatomi. And we lost everybody in Sylvester but one. Cambridge East and West were wiped out.”

“Brooke?” Jason blurted before he could stop himself

Ed shook his head. “Dead.” He looked around at the faces surrounding him. “Right now we’re about the only squad that hasn’t lost anybody.”

“Not for lack of fucking trying,” Mark growled. His leg still hadn’t stopped bleeding from the office furniture shrapnel thrown around by the Toad’s main gun, but it had slowed to a throbbing ooze.

Ed peered at the feed on the tablet in Sarah’s hands, then went back and peered out past the door frame again. “What’s that building right next to us? I can’t even see it from here, it’s too short.”

“McDonald’s. At least, it used to be,” Weasel told him. “And next to that is the old Third Precinct headquarters of the po -lice. Three stories. Looks like there was a serious battle there at some point, a vehicle drove through the back wall, there’s bullet hits all over the front by the door, and half the windows have black smudges on the outside, looks like the inside must have burned. It sits right on the near-side service drive.”

“You haven’t been inside it? Or the McDonald’s?” Weasel shook his head.

“That police building isn’t as tall, but it’s a lot closer,” Ed observed. George was at his shoulder.

“Same firing angle,” George agreed. “But half the distance. So anyone there should be able to aim a little better.”

“As soon as their drone spots you going into that building those Toads are going to level it,” Sarah said. “Take about six main gun rounds to turn it into rubble.”

“Don’t you have a drone jammer?” Jason asked. He’d barely been able to pay attention to the conversation, all he’d been thinking about was Brooke. Dead. He’d been hoping after all this that the two of them would get some more time together. Now that was never going to happen. He found himself fighting back tears, and wiped at his face angrily.

George shook his head. “It’s designed more for the small infiltrators. Bug and bird size. It won’t work on the ones they’re using, they’re probably a thousand feet up, like ours.” He paused, and looked at the ARF Sergeant. “Right?”

Sarah blinked. “Unless it’s the size and weight of a small child, it won’t do anything against what they’re using.”

“They know there’s a group of us here, and even if those fuckers on the service drive leave us alone those other assholes clearing the New Center buildings are eventually going to head this way, and we’ll get pinched,” Weasel observed. “Shit, they’ve got enough vehicles over there already to surround this building. I’m guessing they think we’re just one random squad and all the other doggies are hunkered down at Nakatomi, which is why they’re ignoring us. For now. But we’re dead if we stay here, and we’re dead if we try to make a run for the tunnel mouth. Or we’ll get there and they’ll pour in after us and kill us and then everybody else. Probably have flamethrowers on standby just for such an occasion. The only way to attack them is across that bridge, which is a total killing ground. We’re pretty much fucked.” He didn’t seem too upset about the pronouncement.

“Not with half a dozen Spikes and eight armor-piercing grenades we’re not,” Ed said confidently. “They’re sitting there like they’re untouchable, like they’re on the moon or something. They’re two hundred yards away. They think just because they can’t shoot worth a shit that nobody else can either. They haven’t had to deal with serious anti-armor weapons in so long they’ve gotten out of the habit of fearing what we can do, even after the ass-kicking we gave them this morning.” He looked around at all the faces turned to him and gave them an evil grin. “We’re going to show them the error of their ways. Hell, d’you see? Half those Growlers out there don’t have any armor, maybe they’ve run out of the up-armored ones. We can mess them up bad.” He shook his head. “But it’s not going to be quick or easy, I’ll tell you that.” Ed looked around the crowded hallway at the faces peering at him. “I need a count of how many hand grenades we have as well as standard forty-millimeter rounds. We’ve got to make something happen,” he announced.

“Cowabunga it is,” Harris said heartily, but his face was pale.

Master Sergeant Donald Logan sat in his idling Toad named CLEAVE and listened to the radio traffic as Echo element pushed up on foot along Cass and Woodward and entered the first of the skyscrapers known to contain enemy combatants. They were in no hurry; they were pretty sure they had the enemy surrounded. There were Army troops encircling the entire New Center area, although they were admittedly a little thin on the north and east. But they had multiple drones up to spot anyone attempting to sneak away. Now it was just a matter of rooting them out.

Hotel element—of which he had command—had pushed north along the Lodge Freeway in force and positioned themselves at the West Grand Boulevard intersection. He knew he had a few guerrillas in the large apartment building east of his position; command had radioed that their drones had spotted a squad moving into the building, and a portion of Charlie had engaged with them earlier. That group had lost an IMP but one of the troopers told Logan they’d killed at least ten guerrillas in addition to destroying one of their vehicles and ramming the other through the front of the building.

Logan was perfectly happy to let the guerrillas hide out in the apartment building. He was in no hurry to send his men in there. Door-to-door fighting was a sucker bet and chewed through people no matter how good they were. And his men weren’t that good. This late into the war the draftees he was getting were disgruntled, barely trained, and often borderline malnourished. He had the advantage of armor, and was going to use it.

The guerrillas reportedly had used some anti-tank weapons against Charlie and Foxtrot elements earlier, RPGs and grenades and Molotovs, so he was not going to go anywhere near tall buildings until they’d been cleared by dismounted soldiers bottom to top. And that was why his hatch was closed. Command reported their drone revealed the turret hatch of Charlie element’s destroyed Toad was open, indicating it was most likely the rebels’ good luck which had killed that tank crew. One hand grenade through the Commander’s hatch could incapacitate an entire crew.

“Hotel One-One to One-Two,” he said into the radio.

“Go for One-Two,” the commander of the other Toad replied.

“What’s your fuel status, over.”

There was a bit of a pause before Carter in the other tank replied. “Six and a half, maybe seven hours if we’re just going to sit here idling.”

“Roger that, we’re about the same.”

Suddenly their tank shuddered and boomed as if it was a bell struck by a giant hammer. There were more explosions all around them, too many to count. Logan grabbed hold of the bulkhead to keep from being flung to the floor.

“I’ve lost the ISU, I’ve lost the ISU!” his gunner shouted. “Backup’s out too. I think we were hit by an RPG.”