Epilogue

image [https://i.imgur.com/mF2OgBW.png]

Alpine Mountains

2300

“You want me to hold it how?”

The RTO was a larger man, but Hilaire didn't particularly care. He was more interested in the Marine’s Thompson submachine gun. Technically on the way out from the US Inventory.

“Brother, that's a Tommy gun! The Chicago Typewriter! Our dads used it in World War Two!”

“And the gangsters.” Milo added.

The RTO suddenly snorted, indignant.

“What?”

“That was the M1921 model. This is the A1 model. That M1921 was phased before World War Two was over.” the RTO muttered.

As if insulted, Milo spoke equally indignant, “Yeah, but it’s still a variant of the gun, hence its historical importance.”

“Regardless! Come on, hold it like that photo from Okinawa!”

The man did not object further and held it somewhat awkwardly up to his shoulder given the Thompson’s unique buttstock which, compared with other firearms, was somewhat awkward. Still, in the darkened shadow of the jagged peaks nearby and the light from the fire, Isaac Hilaire was certain the photo would turn out quite well for either journalists or anyone looking into the after-action report.

“That good?”

“I’d say so! You may be on the cover of Time or People.”

The RTO shrugged, then walked on.

“Correct me on guns…” Milo grumbled.

“Well, you’re from Yugoslavia, so what do they know about guns, huh?”

“I’ll beat your ass white, boy.”

He laughed.

There weren’t any dead bodies around the area where they set up an outpost. The distant sound of artillery had stopped. He couldn’t hear aircraft flying overhead or shouts of pain. The breeze was cool, and despite the day’s combat, spirits were high. He watched overhead as some more UH-1s flew over the peaks, trailed by the Army’s latest cargo helicopter, the CH-47. Its large, insect-like frame was distinguishable as the largest shadow amidst the smaller UH-1s.

“Think today’s blow may be the big one.” Milo muttered.

“Hey, careful now.”

“I’m just trying to be a little optimistic. I mean, Christ, once the big guns get moved here, we’ll be able to hit them just about anywhere, right?”

“I think the Howitzers would be in range of that city the 52nd and 1st Air Cav are holed up in. But I guess we’ll see. I think they’ll realize now there’s nothing they can do. Not in open terrain.”

Around them, guys were still on alert, keeping watch, M14s on hand, but a great amount of tension had been released. As if headway had been made. Progress.

He checked his camera. The slightest pang of regret coursed through him.

“My old man fought in Italy, you know?” Isaac said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mountains. They’re not easygoing.”

Milo did not reply.

“I gotta write to ‘em. I gotta.”

Milo only nodded in agreement.

Vincenzo

Parthea watched the waning moon overhead as Governor Lucretius and his men continued their legal matters, pouring over scrolls and writing in what letters they could to legitimize their decision. It had to be done. Otherwise…

She glanced at the blind rabbit woman who sat silently next to the man as he kept working.

“Water, your Highness?”

Paloma offered her a cup of wine with a half smile.

Parthea took it but did not drink.

“What a mess.” She sighed then.

“It is. I believe Octavius can be blamed for much of this.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Perhaps. But, it was my father who began the pursuit of this war. I cannot comprehend his way of thinking right now. These men… they are excellent war fighters but look at them!”

Down in the fields a few milled about. Discussing their logistics or moving what they'd gotten from the previous delivery of supplies to an organized corner. Those who had been in the city or had been helping the injured civilians housed there were strewn about the fields, asleep.

“Boys, really.” Paloma noted.

“And weary of war. You saw that interpreter, too. He did not look all there. They can ruin us, but they do not seem intent on it, that attack with their flying machines earlier…” she shook her head, “We cannot win against that. Not without losing a lot. The tactics are entirely different.”

Paloma said, “You have sent letters to your father, yes?”

“Of course. It is but a matter of hoping the messenger birds make it.”

In the distance, she heard an eruption and turned to gaze to the east. She squinted, seeing a soft glow that spread all too soon. Orange. Strangely familiar.

She winced.

“Another fire attack?!”

“What?”

“Spyglass, Paloma! Spyglass!”

Once Paloma had handed it to her, she moved to look at the wall, seeing it alight much to her horror.

“Oh, by the gods…” she shakily managed.

“But that section of the city is evacuated, highness.”

“What does that matter if the buildings are set alight?! We need to move to put those fires out! Now!”

***

“God damn it, get more water!!!” a sergeant shouted in English.

Matthew Alexander was on the radio already, describing the scene as needed to the guys back at their little headquarters in the palace.

A clean-shaven man ran over and yelled “All houses have been checked. No civilians, but the fire is spreading!”

Dennis translated with a shout to Alex, then rushed over as someone exited another house. The smoke was everywhere and it followed Tom out the door. He was coughing wildly, while Callahan marched out after him.

“It’s clear, but it’s not gonna be much use for coordinating anything. Smoke’s making it impossible to see!” Callahan said angrily.

Dennis could only grimace at that. Around them, the Iberian troops were running with buckets of water gathered from wells and fountains. All around them, houses were catching fire little by little. A searing heat enveloped the area as they tried to contain the flames whose glow had now turned into a hellish light that engulfed their surroundings. With only so many radios and without any way of seeing things from the air…

Dennis stiffened as he heard someone shout in the distance. It was an American voice, it had to be. An M60 cracking to life alongside several rifles and carbines followed and a part of him knew that if the Iberians were going to try some final, desperate attack, it had to be now.

“They’re attacking now?!” Alex half asked, half exclaimed.

Dennis glared around once as guys who’d seconds ago been given the role of firefighters now reached for their rifles and ran towards the wall.

He was about to follow when Rhodes interrupted him.

“Focus on here, Orville! We-”

A house collapsed as the flames consumed it. Burning ash and smoke moved around him as his captain continued, a hand lifted to shield himself from the smoke.

“We’ll focus on the wall! Alex, stay on the line if things get bad!”

“Got it, Captain!” he shouted back over the roar of flames and guns.

Dennis sucked in a breath and took a long swig from his canteen. The water was hot as it went down his throat, but he felt it helped slightly.

The smoke, the heat, the screams. He tried to drown it out with the fact he was for once helping. He wiped at his mouth as his gaze shifted to the darker part of the city. Without electricity, it was truly dark, but he saw people moving towards him, a few carrying torches.

Alex saw it, too.

“Oh no…”

He was not at all surprised to see a group of civilians pushing ahead, led by the girl who’d arrived the previous day and had chosen to stay.

“Highness! What are you doing here?!” he called as professionally as he could just as they arrived within earshot, her guards just lagging behind her, shields up.

“I brought more hands! Soldiers! Where do you need help?” she called from her horse, ignoring him.

A few of the centurions waved people ahead as Dennis stared at the girl with uncertainty.

“Interpreter, what is the situation here?” she shouted, finally noticing him.

“We mostly need to get water up here. The walls are under attack, but as long as we can contain the-”

Suddenly, very angry, she demanded “Has the wall been breached?”

Be professional, Orville…

“No!” he replied cordially.

“Then how did this much fire spread so quickly?!”

“We are not sure how they hit the city with fire, either. No one saw it this time.”

He felt numb saying it. It was so matter-of-fact, too. One second the city could not have been quieter. The next the entire area around him was burning.

Princess Parthea remained on her horse, calling as she asked “Where are the rest of your men?”

“Manning the walls. Seems your Octavius attempted to push on the attack!”

Parthea noticed the emphasis on “your”, and was about to reply. Suddenly there was an explosion that shook the area. They all whirled around in the direction of the sound so quickly it might as well have been due to hooks grabbing them and pulling them towards it.

Then they froze as the unmistakable howl of various men screaming echoed past them. Dennis didn’t hear any English, but he didn’t have to. Not this time.

Alex suddenly said, “The wall’s been breached!”

Parthea froze at those words despite having not understood them.

“Did… is…?

Dennis ignored her question and shouted at her guards “You get Her Highness back to the palace! Now!”

“Don’t you talk to my guards that- Hey!”

He’d ignored her and grabbed his M16. He’d just checked his magazine when he realized the damnable woman had dismounted her horse and approached him. Her bodyguards dismounted after her, but she was moving a little quicker.

“Soldier!”

“I said go back! If they breached-”

“It is my duty to ensure things are well, damn you!” Then, to her guards, “Do not touch me!”

“Highness!” one yelled.

Alex moved over to him and quickly said “They need all the guns they can get, Orville, we gotta move!”

Dennis felt his jaw clench, jabbed a finger at her face, and said two words, “Go back!”

Then he rushed off, too aware the woman was chasing after him despite her guards objecting.