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Grimoires & Gunsmoke: The Ohio Incident Ch. 2
🕑 Added 2023-08-30 05:57:48 +0000 UTCAfter Corporal Santiago’s little outburst, no one in his platoon could even formulate anything resembling a reasonable answer. They all had the very same question as they sat there staring at their machines of war. Rows M2A4 Bradley Infantry vehicles locked and loaded ready for a combat drop.
“I mean, when we’re usually doing shit like this, they’d just give us inert rounds. But here we are, flying around with LIVE combat loads. The Corporal and driver of one of the vehicles continued, turning his head to his Sergeant First Class (SFC). “C’mon sarge, what the fuck is up? Is it aliens?”
Santiago’s Sergeant First Class and vehicle commander, Erik Hofmann, let out a deep breath as his pale face reddened in irritation. Even though his Corporal made some good points, the platoon sergeant didn’t exactly have the liberty to ask why they had enough ammunition to level an entire town, let alone why they were even on the plane in the first place. “Shut up the fuck up Santiago.” Hofmann simply replied, leaning back against the wall of the cargo plane.
However, that didn’t deter Santiago as he looked to his platoon leader this time and gestured to the 3 Bradley IFVs. “C’mon LT, you gotta tell us something!” He yelled down the line at the Lieutenant who seemed more exasperated than anything else.
The Lieutenant was bumping his head against the wall in an effort to suppress his agitation with Santiago's ridiculous harping over aliens. The man finally straightened up, his dark skin contrasting with the dim, metallic surroundings of the plane and looked towards his Corporal. The deafening clangs of chains, ringing out whenever their airfact hit a spot of turbulence.
“Santiago… I don’t know. I’m just confused as you are.” Lieutenant Jayden DuPont replied in a monotone voice. “Now do what Hofmann told you to do and shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just sayin’, sir," Santiago shrugged, leaning back in his own seat. “It almost feels as if this is an invasion or you know…” The corporal’s voice trailed off as he raised his hands like his favorite History Channel ‘expert’. ”Those little green Pendejos? Or maybe the tall gray-”
“Santiago, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna throw you out the back of the god damn plane.” Sergeant Daniel Kim, His Bradley’s Korean-American gunner growled in anger. “So do what the LT said before you fall to your death.”
The Corporal put his hands up in surrender after receiving Kim’s glare. "Alright, alright, I get it." Santiago said as he reclined in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a muffled laughter from a handful of the 40 men on board, but it was cut short by a harsh look from Kim.
The carbo bay of the aircraft soon fell into silence, filled only by the droning hum of the turbofan engines and the occasional creaking of the 3 nearly 30 ton war machines crammed inside. Santiago looked up at Bradley as his face turned serious for a moment. The man’s gaze drifted all across the features of the vehicle and noted that there were two live missiles stowed away and ready to be fired from the pylon on the side of the turret.
The man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they were heading into. A combat drop with live ordnance wasn't exactly standard procedure when inside friendly airspace let alone the Continental United States. The weight of the situation pressed down on him as his brain raced with all the possibilities.
“He has a point though… What if it's actually -” Private First class Lukas Kowalski suddenly broke the silence, but was immediately cut off.
Lieutenant DuPont didn’t even bother looking at the man when he barked out, “Shut up, Private.” Eliciting laughter throughout the cabins once again.
Kowalski sank further into his seat, deciding that it was better to keep his thoughts to himself for now. "Roger that, sir," Kowalski responded, adjusting the rifle slung across his chest. His fingers grazed the cold metal of the firearm, tracing the edges as a strange comfort against the uncertainty that hung in the air.
Hofmann, ignoring the tense, but still somewhat jovial atmosphere, turned his gaze down the line and looked at the rest of the platoon. Santiago’s words seemed to stick with him as well as the uncertainty of their supposed training exercise nagged at him. But, the man decided that there was no reason to over think it and concluded that it was most likely some kind of readiness drill. This was far above his pay grade and firmly not his problem.
Seeing that they were the latest iteration of the heavily armored “Penetration” division concept that the brass had slapped together, Hofmann surmised that this was probably a test of some sort. The 7th Cavalry Division had been redesigned to be the Army's spearhead in any major conflict. Composed of advanced and heavily armored vehicles, along with specialized infantry units, Hofmann’s division was created with the explicit goal of not only to breach the enemy lines, but to keep going.
However, if this was all just a readiness test… Then why did they need all this live ammo set up in a way that made it look like they were hot dropping into contested territory?
Glancing around, Hofmann saw that the cargo plane was stuffed to the brim with boxes of ammunition. If a full kitted soldier wasn’t occupying a space, then that space was in turn, occupied with supplies. If he didn’t know any better, Hofmann would have sworn that they have either reached or exceeded this aircraft theoretical weight limit.
There was an unspoken question in every soldier’s mind, a nagging uncertainty that refused to be ignored: Were they dropping into a combat zone?
The military didn't typically provide real bullets for training maneuvers if not explicitly stated that it was a live fire exercise. And in the event they were using live ammunition, then the troops would usually undergo hours if not days of extensive preparations, equipment checks, and safety briefs to ensure maximum safety.
Hofmann glancing over at his Lieutenant, Hofmann realized the man was staring back at him with an equally concerned and perplexed expression. The two men seemed to come to the same conclusion that if they were indeed going into a conflict zone, then there was no way they would have left the United States. As a matter of fact, even the field officers seemed confused and hesitant when they ordered everyone to load up.
And that is when Hofmann glanced at Santiago and entertained his insane theory… Were they under attack? Is there a civil uprising somewhere?
The questions ate at Hofmann, the answers always a step beyond his grasp. The military was notorious for its "need-to-know" basis of operations, and right now, it seemed like they were considered on the lesser end of that requirement.
"Maybe they're testing how we operate under pressure," Lieutenant DuPont suggested, having seen Hofmann’s strained look. His nonchalant shrug did little to alleviate the unease.
Hofmann didn't respond immediately. His brows were knitted trying to find the simplest possible answer to their current situation, but everything he could come up with was either contrived or didn’t make sense. All roads of thought lead back to Santiago’s insanity. Their instructions were clear, load up, get on the plane and land in Ohio and await further orders.
"Are we..." he began, struggling to find the right words. "Are we going into a warzone? In our own country?"
DuPont went silent, his gaze shifting towards the large 25mm Bushmaster cannon on their large armored vehicle. Letting out a long sigh, the Lieutenant’s fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on his knee as he seriously thought about Hofman’s question. His usually jovial and mischievous eyes now held a hard edge, a steeliness that echoed the grim possibility hanging in the air.
"I don’t know, Hofmann..." he began slowly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the plane's engines. "I wish I did, but I don't."
That confirmation of ignorance alone sent ripples throughout the platoon and chills down the spines of every soldier. DuPont, a former enlisted man turned officer, the ever stalwart rock in their usually proverbial storm, was also in the dark.
"But, regardless..." DuPont continued, locking eyes with Hofmann. "We have our orders. We'll be briefed when we're boots on the ground-"
The Lieutenant's voice was suddenly drowned out by the sharp crackle of the intercom. "Brace for approach, we're going into a tactical landing pattern, we’re coming in hot." The pilot's voice echoed through the cargo hold, the unexpected announcement sending an electric shock through the cabin. Tactical landing. They were going into a hot zone, and they were going in as fast as possible.
DuPont's gaze never wavered from Hofmann, even as the initial surprise began to settle into a grim understanding as they all snapped into work mode. "You heard the man!" Dupont shouted aggressively and called out to the rest of his soldiers, his voice carrying a calm, steady assurance that seemed to anchor the growing tension.
"Secure your shit, strap in tight! This is going to be a rough descent," he ordered, moving to tighten his own harness. "We're going in hot, so be ready to move and get the vehicles decoupled as soon as we touch down!"
"Takashi, Cooper, Diego, Thornfield!" DuPont continued, his piercing gaze sweeping each NCO in turn. His voice cut through the noise of the humming engines, a steel blade of authority in the chaos. "Help Hofmann with decoupling his Bradley, we need him out of the way as soon as the bird touches down! Understood?" DuPont said while grabbing his rifle and racking the slide to and chambering a round.
The soldiers snapped to attention, their bodies tense with the adrenaline of the impending drop. "Roger that, sir!" came the unanimous response, each man springing into action to follow their lieutenant's command.
Takashi, A staff, a quiet Japanese-American man, pointed to a few of his men and started issuing orders to prepare their own Bradley’s for decoupling when they landed. Diego, Thornfield, and Cooper followed suit, each issuing orders and deciding which squad was going into whose Bradley.
The roar of the engines and the whistling of the wind outside made it difficult for the soldiers to hear each other as the aircraft descended rapidly. It felt as if their stomachs had been left hanging thousands of feet above them, a sensation only worsened by the anticipation of the unknown.
“The fuck is going on sir…?” Santiago asked again, this time his voice barely audible over the noise. His knuckles were white from gripping the straps of his harness, his eyes wide as he looked to his lieutenant for answers.
But DuPont, strapped into his own seat, gave nothing away. His gaze was fixed on the slowly approaching ground below them, a hardened expression set on his face. He'd been in this kind of situation before, and he knew better than to make promises or assumptions. "I don't know, Santiago," DuPont admitted, turning his gaze to the worried man. "But I’m certain we’re soon gonna find out. Now get your fuckin’ helmet on."
The rapid descent continued, the lights of the land below growing closer and more defined. No one said another word as they all recognized they weren’t landing on an actual airstrip, but a small patch of grass as a makeshift runaway.
The usually talkative Santiago swallowed hard and simply nodded, his fingers fumbling to strap his helmet onto his head. The normally light hearted atmosphere of their unit had been replaced by a somber tension, each man lost in their thoughts as they watched the landscape below approach with alarming speed.
As the soldiers held their collective breaths, the aircraft shuddered and jolted while the craft's undercarriage screamed in protest as it made contact with the uneven ground. However, the pilot still skillfully decelerated while the transport bounced and shook as it barreled down the grassy field.
Once the plane had ground to a halt, orders started being yelled as soldiers unbuckled themselves and went to work. Half of the bindings chaining their vehicles were already off when the cargo bay doors touched the ground, revealing a newly arrived starlit night that had intense gunfire and explosions echoing in the distance.
The sudden sounds of conflict outside caught everyone off guard, freezing them in their tracks. The soldiers’ heartbeats echoed in their ears, drowning out the distant sound of gunfire. The booming echo of an explosion somewhere off in the distance jolted them back into motion.
"Move! Move! Move!" Lieutenant DuPont yelled, trying to reignite the sense of urgency among his men. “Get this shit off the plane! Section two still has to land!”
Remembering that the rest of their company was still in the air, the soldiers swiftly went back to work. The rumble of heavy diesel engines roared as the first large metal beasts roared to life as unknown soldiers started to flood in and assist in decoupling their vehicles. With the first Bradley free of its chains, the thing roared down the ramp, churning up dust and grass in their haste.
Then came the second Bradley, while Lieutenant DuPont walked down the ramp and shook hands with one of the men directing the vehicles down. “1st Lieutenant DuPont.” He introduced himself, looking his contemporary up and down.
On the unknown soldier’s chest held the patch CCT indicating he was an Airman belonging to the Air Force’s famed and fabled Combat Controllers. "Technical Sergeant Anthony Pena," the airman introduced himself, shaking DuPont's hand firmly. “I’m sure you want to know what the fuck is going on, and to be honest you’re better of seeing it for yourself.”
The CCT started walking, motions for the Lieutenant to follow before pointing south. “We got everything from Special Forces, Rangers and National Guard out there fighting along the 77 on both sides of the road trying to get to Cambridge.“
The Lieutenant followed, his eyes narrowing at the mention of fighting. DuPont's mind whirled with questions, but he managed to keep his composure, focusing on what the CCT was saying. “Wait, wait, wait. What?” DuPont pressed his fingers against his eyebrows before glancing back at the cargo plane taxiing to take off. “The 77? As in the 77 going through Ohio? Sergeant Pena, what the fuck is happening? Are we under attack?”
"Something like that, Lieutenant," Pena replied, his voice grim. "Something… is attacking us." The CCT shook his head in disbelief. "We've got these... things. Creatures. They're not from around here, that's for sure. They hit us hard and fast, taking the town, killing civilians. The Rangers were the first to respond and now we're here, trying to hold them back."
Dupont noticed Pena's voice had an edge to it, a certain tension that went beyond the normal stresses of combat. His eyes were steely, his jaw set.
"And before you ask, no one has the faintest clue. One minute, everything's normal. The next... well, you’ll see." Pena turned around towards the Cargo Plane as it was starting to take off. “If it doesn’t look like it belongs on this planet, Shoot it. If it doesn’t look right, shoot it. If it doesn’t have an IR Strobe, shoot it.” The CCT finished as his hand moved to his radio to communicate with the next landing cargo plane.
DuPont stood there for a moment, in complete and utter shock as he let the information sink in. “Jesus… Santiago was right…” The man then turned around and started jogging to the lead Bradley, his mind racing with thoughts of preparation and action.
"Fuck, Santiago was right!" DuPont shouted, as he climbed up the IFV’s ramp and joined the rest of his troop. Sergeant First Class Hofmann was sitting in the vehicle's commander's seat when he snapped his head around to face DuPont, his eyes wide.
“What??” Hofmann's face contorted in disbelief. “ Santiago was what!?”
A series of frustrated grunts resounded from DuPont as he struggled to fit himself into the only available seat. "The god damn corporal was right, we’re being fucking attacked by aliens!" He replied hurriedly, pushing the M240 machine gun that belongs to one of his soldiers into the poor individual so the Lieutenant could fit. "We've got unidentified hostile… something’s out there!”
The soldier in question yelped and cursed in pain as the Bradley’s ramps finally started to lift, sealing the occupants inside the dimly lit interior of the IFV. The muffled hum of the vehicle's engine began to resonate, mingled with the adrenaline-fueled chatter of its crew.
Silence reigned in the vehicle after DuPont's revelation. The normal banter, the jokes, the sounds of soldiers preparing for a mission - it all felt muted. The realization of the gravity of their situation they found themselves in, felt as if they were just hit by a bus.
Everyone in the vehicle had grown up playing games or watching voices about alien invasion, and everyone also knew that if they were actually being attacked by a space faring species, humanity wouldn’t stand a chance. The very idea that an extraterrestrial race had the capability to travel across the vast cosmos, reach Earth, and launch an assault was terrifying. Their technology, strategies, and physiology could be beyond comprehension.
Santiago's voice broke through the oppressive silence. "I always imagined it'd be like Mass Effect, you know? Cool weapons, shiny ships, maybe even a few good guy aliens on our side or something." He tried to laugh, but the sound died quickly and silence took hold of the Bradley once again as it rolled towards the road. It’s tracks grinding the earth beneath.
DuPont had completely ignored the comment, and was more concerned with the phone mounted to his chest called the End-User Device. The man was doing his best trying to access the tactical map and other intel available on the digital interface. The device provided him with real-time updates from the, admitted disorganized higher command and fellow units, but came to the conclusion that everything was a cluster fuck.
"God damnit…” The Lieutenant muttered under his breath as they finally met the road. The officer was trying to figure out who to actually talk to amidst the random bursts of chatter that filled his ears. Everything was an absolute mess as distressed voices cried for help, harsh barks of commands or desperate attempts to rally scattered troops. The cacophony made it nearly impossible to discern if there was any kind of cohesiveness command and made it seem like they were just dropped into a free-for-all.
Hofmann opened his mouth getting ready to chime in on Santiago’s joke, but just as the words were about to leave his mouth, something surreal passed in front of his commander's screen. Just 200 meters away, several soldiers with Infrared strobes on their heads sprinted out of the treeline in a mad dash to the other side. He initially thought they were just breaking contact or trying to get past the other side, but he soon realized they were running away from something.
“GUNNER!!” Hofmann yelled desperately as an enormous armored beast, rivaling the Bradley in size, burst through the forest edge and onto the asphalt. The damned thing had an eerie resemblance to a wingless bipedal dragon as its massive claws scraped and sparked against the road’s surface in an effort to change direction, causing it to stumble momentarily in its stride.
It was a sight right out of a fantasy. Its muscular body was covered in dark scales that seemed to both reflect and absorb the ambient light, casting eerie shadows around it. Powerful, clawed limbs dug into the road as it righted itself, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth in a maw that seemed to stretch endlessly. The beast's eyes, a fiery orange, scanned the area hungrily.
With a predatory speed that defied its size, it immediately surged forward again, giving chase to the fleeing soldiers. The raw power of the creature was terrifying; each bound it took covered an alarming distance.
“TRACKING!!” The gunner, Sergeant Kim, screamed in response, quickly getting a bead on the creature.
POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF
The Bradley's 25mm Bushmaster chain gun roared into action as Kim unleashed a rapid barrage at the behemoth lizard. Each High Explosive (HE) round struck true, causing the creature to falter momentarily with every small explosion against its thick scales. Yet, the monster's resilience was astounding; while a few hits did cause visible wounds around softer and fleshier area’s, the barrage was far from enough to bring the creature to a halt.
The beast in turn, shifted its now furious gaze towards the Bradley, its eyes glinting with a malevolent intelligence. Muscles rippled beneath its armored hide as it repositioned itself, clearly considering the armored vehicle its new primary threat.
Suddenly, the creature let out a deafening roar that echoed across the battlefield, sending an involuntary chill down the spines of every soldier in the vicinity. The sheer power and volume of the sound caused the Bradley's hull to vibrate.
"ARMOR PIERCING!! FUCKING USE AP!!" Hofmann shouted as he saw the thing sprint towards them at a mind boggling speed.
Sergeant Kim reacted instantly, switching ammunition. "Loading AP!" He called back, just as desperate. Just as a mechanical clunk signified the switch in the chamber. The sergeant held down on the trigger once more, and Bradley's chain gun released another furious volley. Each shot seemed to strike with a more noticeable effect than before; the rounds found their mark, digging into the thick hide of the creature.
A series of high-pitched metallic pings could be heard as the AP rounds made contact, some ricocheting off, but several penetrating deep into the monster's tough exterior. Dark, viscous fluid, reminiscent of blood but with an odd luminescent quality, spewed out from the beast, painting the asphalt as it crumbled to the ground, slamming in the IFV and sending rocking back.
The force of the impact knocked several of the crew off their seats, and the Bradley was sent screeching back several feet. Hofmann was momentarily dazed, his vision blurred, and his ears rang from the brutal collision.
"Out! Out, now! Everyone dismount!" DuPont yelled, his voice filled with urgency, grabbing hold of the lever to lower the Bradley’s ramp and pushing it with all his might. With a mechanical hiss, the ramp slowly began to descend, revealing the hazy outside atmosphere.
The infantry inside of the uncomfortably cramped vehicle scrambled out of the vehicle, some on their feet, other’s rolling out. Even as the infantry did their best to shake off the dizziness from the impact, the sound of the 25mm Bushmaster cannon continued to roar, engaging other targets down the road. By this time the second and third Bradley in their little convoy had also come to a halt, forming a makeshift defensive line alongside the main road. A cacophony of fire roared from each vehicle as soldiers poured out of their respected vehicles and made a beeline to the tree line and out of the open with the world around them turning into a blur of pure chaos.
