The inferno at the outskirts of Kansas City lit the night sky with a dull orange glow. Graceful lines of tracers rose from beyond the silhouettes of darkened buildings, and the flashes of explosions brightened the smoke on the horizon. The far off detonations asserted themselves over the roar of the Osprey’s twin engines. The plan had called for a calm landing at the city’s airport, but the NEA’s main force had arrived earlier than expected. Now, the team would be deploying near the southern edge of the downtown area and three blocks away from their objective, the six hundred and fifty foot tall One Kansas City Place skyscraper.

Ten others sat next to and across from Alex in the Osprey. Shepherd was to her right, holding his carbine muzzle-down between his legs and staring into the heads up display embedded in his goggles. He had not spoken since their final briefing in the aircraft an hour earlier. Murray sat to her left. His weapon lay against his left thigh and his helmet sat pushed forward over his eyes while his legs splayed out over the aisle. From the noises he was making, she guessed he was asleep. Norm Wilson, the team leader of Alpha, was directly across the cabin, chewing fiercely on a piece of gum and sifting through the pouches on his combat vest, checking and rearranging magazines and grenades.

The ride had been smooth up until their arrival in Kansas City’s airspace. The Osprey’s rooftop-hugging altitude and evasive maneuvering kicked them around and jostled them into each other like jumping beans. As she held onto the edges of her seat, she briefly glanced at the others: Sergeant Ziegler, locking and unlocking the breech of his carbine’s grenade launcher, Corporal Fletcher, leaning on his portable anti-tank tube as if it was a cane, and Park, adjusting the optical sight on his rifle. Jarden, Williams, and O’Brian all sat next to each other fiddling with a new machine gun from the armory. The only replacement for Hensley and Neill was Fred Atkins, a Staff Sergeant carrying an oversized assault pack that held a long, flexible antenna and a compact radio system. He sat diagonally across from her busily testing the radio. The Osprey’s engines drowned out his murmured words.

She reached to her helmet and adjusted it for a more comfortable fit. The aircraft slowed and pressed her against Shepherd. Beyond the cabin windows, the Osprey’s nacelles swiveled upwards. The overhead lights flashed red. Shepherd leaned over her and tapped Murray on the thigh. The big man pushed his helmet back and yawned.

“Shit!” Murray complained. In her earpiece, she heard his voice over the roar of the turbines, “I was dreaming about banging the Captain’s—”

He stopped and looked directly at her. He had obviously forgotten where he was. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.

She laughed. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Wilson smiled. Alex looked at Shepherd. He was not smiling.

“Okay, people,” Shepherd said. “We’ll be at the LZ in sixty seconds. I want full security once we hit the ground. When the bird is clear, we’ll be moving three blocks north and then one west to our objective. Alpha, you’re on point. Team leaders, are you ready?”

“Roger,” Murray said.

Wilson’s voice followed a second later, saying, “Alpha’s up.”

Shepherd stood from his seat. “Everyone on your feet. Lock and load. Get ready for landing.”

The men stood and inserted magazines into their rifles. Shepherd offered Alex his hand but she waved it off and pushed herself up, struggling to keep her balance under the weight of her equipment and the swaying motion of the cabin. Cold rushed into the aircraft the moment the ramp began to open.

“Game time!” Murray said.

As the Osprey touched down, Shepherd gestured to Sergeant Wilson and then pointed outside. Wilson relayed the order to the rest of his fire team. One-by-one, the men hurried to the edge of the ramp and then hopped onto the pavement before sprinting off to form a semicircular perimeter around the Osprey. Once the second fire team was out, Shepherd patted Alex on the shoulder, and the two of them disembarked. Alex took a knee at the edge of the perimeter and then watched as the Osprey lifted up into the sky and disappeared into the darkness.

Shepherd spoke into his headset’s microphone, “Phantom X-Ray, this is Echo 1-6. Do you read me? Over.” No reply. He repeated the transmission and waited, but again, there was no answer.

Shepherd turned to Sergeant Atkins. “Get me in touch with Peterson.”

Atkins hurriedly removed his assault pack and unzipped the main compartment. He began adjusting the knobs and switches on the radio and unfolding the antennae. He was already perspiring although the night was cool and breezy.

Alex looked around the abandoned parking lot. We’re exposed out here. No cover. And if Colonel Harrison isn’t answering…

Sergeant Paul’s cheerful voice sounded in their earpieces and interrupted her thoughts. “Howdy folks! Is everything up to date in Kansas City?”

Shepherd growled, “Cut the shit! We can’t raise the local HQ element. Advise.”

“Echo 1-6, this is Kodiak 6,” Lunde broadcast. “We are tracking you. Proceed to your objective. Over.”

Paul’s voice returned: “I’m happy to report that Colonel Harrison’s ass is not grass. Phantom Main took indirect fire and he decided to pull back to Topeka. It may take him a good minute or two to re-establish comms. In the meantime… send a postcard. Wish you were here!”

A bright flash came from the east. Then a fireball rose from beyond the rooftops. Staccato machinegun fire followed the distant explosion. All around, she heard the sounds of battle, but there was nothing to see except the random lines of tracer fire spraying into the night sky and the fiery glow beyond the surrounding buildings.

“Shit,” Murray said. “Sounds like we landed right in the middle of the party!”

Shepherd studied the display in his goggles. “The tracker is showing a lot of potential enemy movement at the curve of I-70 and a few miles down the Watkins Expressway. We need to get moving.”

Wilson stood from the edge of the perimeter. “Alpha, on me!”

They formed into two lines in the middle of the street going north away from the parking lot. Alex and Shepherd moved into the center of the formation, and the team set off toward One Kansas City Place.

The stark contrast between downtown Kansas City and the outskirts of Manhattan surprised Alex. While New York had been all overgrowth and rundown buildings, here the high-rises possessed intact doors and unbroken windows. The streets and sidewalks, although pocked with potholes and cracks, were free of garbage and debris. This was a testament to the Directorate’s efforts at restoring the country.

“Our reclamation teams did a good job,” Alex said.

“Until this little war started,” Shepherd said.

Alex felt herself getting winded. The dull pain in the right side of her chest jabbed deeper with every feet. Still haven’t gotten over it. Takes longer than I thought to recover from dying.

Soon, residential towers and skyscrapers surrounded them on both sides. One Kansas City Place was the tallest, dwarfing the other structures and resembling a great beacon glinting from red to orange to yellow with the changing hues of the fire beyond the skyline. Just ahead, a pair of corroded street signs read: “East 12th Street” and “Walnut Avenue.” Park and Williams began to swerve left, following East 12th toward the west.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” Wilson said. “Objective’s right up—”

Machinegun fire swept the intersection and obliterated Wilson’s voice. Corporal Williams, at the front of the formation, took a bullet in the leg, driving him to his knees. He tried to push himself up, but a second round slammed into his ballistic vest and knocked him to the ground. A third and fourth tore through his neck and blew off his helmet.

Park went down next. Two rounds struck him in the chest, the first cracking his armor and the second punching through and out his back with a puff of red. As he fell, another round impacted his shoulder and spun him like a top.

Before Alex could react, Fletcher rushed past her and Shepherd into the intersection. He pointed his missile launcher to the east as tracers flew past him like a hail of speeding headlights. Smoke and fire exploded out the rear of the launcher. A split second later, the tracers connected with Flecher and he went down. The missile detonated somewhere down the street.

The remnant of Alpha seemed on the verge of entering the intersection to rescue Park, who was lying on his back and still moving. “On me!” Shepherd shouted. “NOW!”

Wilson and Ziegler hesitated and looked back, but Jarden rushed out and grabbed Park by the drag strap on his ballistic vest. A tracer snapped by within inches of Jarden’s face as he began to pull Park to safety. Ziegler ran to the corner of the tower on their right and leaned out, firing east. Suddenly, Jarden jerked to the left and slammed against the pavement. His grip on Park’s vest held. Wilson ran to Jarden and brought both men the rest of the way to cover.

“Get me a distance and direction!” Shepherd said.

The fire shifted from the middle of the intersection to the sidewalk closest to the team. Ziegler yelled, “From the east! A few blocks down!”

Jarden picked himself up. The bullet had torn a gash in his ballistic vest a few inches beneath his left arm. Through the tear, Alex saw a fractured crater in the bulletproof plate. He gave the team a thumbs up.

“Everyone, get off the street!” Shepherd said.

The men rushed to the right sidewalk. Murray pulled Park close to Alex and then jogged to Ziegler. Wilson produced a medical kit and knelt down beside Park. He yanked the release cable of Park’s vest, and the plate carrier came apart. Blood streamed out as if from a hose from the gaping holes on the side of Park’s abdomen and his left shoulder.

“Kodiak Main,” Shepherd said, “this is Echo 1-6. Do you read me? Over.”

“Hold on,” Wilson said to Park, fumbling with the bandage as he unraveled it. “I’ve got this. You’ll be fine.”

Park did not seem to register Wilson’s voice. Instead, he reached up and touched Alex on the leg. She immediately knelt on the pavement. He grabbed her hand. His pupils were wide and dilated, and his skin was pale white. “Tell my—” He coughed blood onto the concrete. “A-Alex. Tell my dad I’m sorry.”

Park squeezed her hand hard. It hurt but she nodded. What was she supposed to do? Two of the men had died in a matter of seconds, and now Park was bleeding out in front of her.

“Echo 1-6, this is Kodiak Main,” Paul’s voice came over the radio. “What’s the buzz?”

“We’re under fire at the corner of—”

“RPG!”

The corner of the building exploded. Alex threw herself over Park as marble and glass rained down on them. A sharp bite cut into her right arm, causing her to grimace and her eyes to water. As the dust settled, she pushed herself back and up onto a knee. She examined her arm and found a bloody slice in her uniform. Park’s grip had gone limp. The red pool expanding out from his body leaked into the gutter. She looked into his lifeless eyes and then up at Wilson. He shook his head.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Echo 1-6!” Lunde said over the radio. “Echo 1-6, do you read me?”

“Is everyone all right?” Shepherd said.

“Park’s gone,” Wilson said quietly. He shut Park’s eyelids and then stood. Park’s blood stained his hands and knees.

“Echo 1-6, do you read me?” Lunde said.

“Roger. We’re taking fire at the corner of East 12th and Walnut. I have three of my team KIA. Please advise.”

“UAS feed indicates a platoon-sized enemy element east of your position. They’re advancing on you from East 12th and McGee.”

“How did they get this far?”

“Unknown. We’re looking into it.”

Yellow tracers continued to slam into the intersection and the ruined corner of the office building. Ziegler tried to lean around the corner but the sheer number of rounds forced him back under cover. Alex looked into the windows of the surrounding buildings, hoping to see a reflection of the enemy force, but there was nothing.

“We’re pinned,” Shepherd said. “Can you direct air support to my location?”

There was no response. Shepherd repeated the transmission twice but there was only silence.

“What the hell’s going on?” Murray said. “Who the hell is in charge at HQ?”

Sergeant Paul came on, “Uh… Echo 1-6, this is Kodiak Main. I’m afraid we have a… situation here.”

“What? What situation? Where’s General Lunde?”

“That’s what I was going to tell you,” Paul said petulantly. “General Lunde has had a… a breakdown.”

“A breakdown?”

“Yes, he just collapsed. The medics are taking him to the hospital.”

“Who is in charge?”

“I’m afraid that’s Colonel Harrison, sir. And he is incommunicado!”

“Just get me some air support,” Shepherd said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Roger that. I’ll see what I can whip up. Kodiak Main, out.”

“Alex,” Shepherd said, “I need you to make us some cover.”

His voice was hard but it betrayed none of the fear she felt, the horror of seeing Park and Williams and Fletcher die in front of her. The voice made it possible for her to nod and ask only, “Where?”

Shepherd pointed up at the office tower. “Knock part of this building down into the intersection. We need to establish a base of fire position.”

Again, she nodded.

“Everyone pull back!” Shepherd said.

Murray yanked on Ziegler’s shoulder and then called out. “Everyone back it up!”

Alex did her best to steady her breathing. She looked up until she could see the entire western and southern faces of the skyscraper. Then she closed her eyes and waited until she could feel every floor, wall, and support of the building as if the whole structure was a toy in her hand. She navigated through the corridors, the ducts, and air vents until her weight was firmly against the building’s lower northwestern corner. She clenched her right hand into a fist.

The corner of the building broke apart. Alex tracked the rubble and threw the pieces into the intersection. She remembered the baseball games of her childhood, before her abilities and the team and the war. Tossing the car-sized chunks of concrete felt no different than throwing those baseballs toward home plate. Dust soon engulfed the street, causing her to cough as she opened her eyes. As part of the skywalk above the team began to collapse, Alex shifted her attention to direct the debris away.

“Everyone take up position!” Shepherd said. “Return fire as soon as you have a target!”

The team spread across the intersection. Specialist O’Brian dove into a makeshift bunker of broken granite and slammed down his machinegun’s bipod. He squeezed the trigger, and tracers erupted from the weapon’s barrel, joining with the fire from the rest of the team. Alex and Shepherd stayed behind the remains of the office building’s northwestern corner. She tried to get a clear view of their attackers but Shepherd pulled her back.

“Stay down,” Shepherd said.

“I was trying to find a target.”

“We can handle it from here. The air support will be here soon. Do you feel all right?”

“I’m fine. But…” She looked at the bodies of Park, Williams, and Fletcher.

“Nothing we can do right now,” Shepherd said. “Just keep focused.”

“We’ve got ‘em pinned!” Murray said.

“Keep it up!” Shepherd said.

The familiar pulsing thrum of approaching helicopters asserted itself over the gunfire. Alex glanced around the corner and saw a pair of black silhouettes against the fiery glow on the horizon. “Echo 1-6, this is Jericho 7,” a voice broadcast over her headset. “Be advised, two friendly gunships about to arrive at your location. We have identified enemy positions and are about to begin a strafing run, over.”

“Understood,” Shepherd said. “Fire when ready.”

“Copy. Jericho 7, out.”

The two helicopter gunships swooped down. White-hot tracers leapt from the guns of each aircraft, raking a pair of buildings a block to the east. The enemy fire lessened. Bright flashes lit the intersection as the helicopters unleashed swarms of rockets. The NEA’s cover became fire, smoke, and rubble.

The gunships circled the intersection. Alex had no idea how anyone could have survived the barrage, but the sharp whip-crack of bullets persisted all around her. A flash from the east caught her attention. Exhaust sped out the darkness and struck one of the gunships in the tail. The helicopter swerved in midair and then lost control and spun toward the team.

“I can help them,” she told Shepherd.

“Do it.”

Alex ran from behind cover and knelt behind the pile of rubble in the middle of the intersection. As the damaged helicopter made a wide, shaky arc over a hotel across the street, she focused on the aircraft and attempted to steady it. The helicopter’s momentum fought her, attempting to break away and slip from her grasp. Desperately, she stood to grab the helicopter from the air. The gunship shuddered and hung above the street. The rotors spun inches from the hotel windows. She pulled the helicopter toward the intersection. Then a violent blow smashed into her chest. The air left her lungs as she stumbled back and fell to the pavement.

“Alex!” Shepherd said.

Murray pulled her behind cover. She struggled to regain her breath. Shepherd appeared next to her and undid the straps of her body armor. He glanced down and examined the vest. “It didn’t go through. Can you breathe?”

She coughed and tried to reply but then she saw the gunship spinning out of control, passing their intersection and careening toward One Kansas City Place. She attempted to sit up, but spots appeared in her vision. Shepherd put himself between her and the NEA’s position and then set the bulletproof vest back on top of her. She tried to regain her focus on the helicopter but it was too late.

The gunship smashed into One Kansas City Place and exploded. Broken glass and metal poured into the street. The helicopter’s blades sheared off and spun into the adjacent buildings, slicing apart concrete and steel and leaving huge gashes like claw marks in their wake.

“Holy shit,” Murray said.

Alex felt like screaming but her lungs only allowed her to make a weak moan. There were least four people in the gunship: the pilot, copilot, and two gunners. Now they were gone, too.

She stared at the smoke rising from the skyscraper. Shepherd helped her sit up and then reattached her ballistic vest while she remained limp in his arms. “Hey, look at me,” Shepherd said, giving her a shake. “That wasn’t your fault. You tried.”

“I know… I just…” She shook her head and dropped a fist to the pavement.

“Sir!” Murray said. “I think our air support took care of the last of them!”

The remaining gunship circled twice and then sped away east. No further gunfire came from the ruined structures. However, the team stayed behind cover and kept their weapons trained down the street. Wilson moved toward Shepherd and Murray. “What do we do now?”

Shepherd gazed at the smoke pouring from their objective. “Keep security. I need to call higher.”

“Roger.”

“Kodiak Main, this is Echo 1-6,” Shepherd broadcast. “Do you read me? Over.”

“Echo 1-6, this is Kodiak Main,” Sergeant Paul said. “Update on General Lunde. He has a bleeding duodenal ulcer and needs transfusions. He’s going to be hors de combat for a spell. Any word from Harrison? Over.”

“Not yet.”

“Copy. Stand by. Kodiak Main, out.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Shepherd muttered. “Stand by for what?”

“Sounds like the chain of command went to shit,” Murray said.

“Get your teams into three-sixty,” Shepherd said. “If I don’t hear from higher in five, we’re hauling ass to another building.”

Murray and Wilson repositioned their fire teams to form a perimeter in the middle of the intersection. Ziegler and Jarden ran and brought Park’s body to the middle of the perimeter next to Williams and Fletcher. Then Ziegler removed a poncho liner from his assault pack and draped it over the three bodies.

Alex pushed herself up into a crouching position. Her chest ached from the impact of the bullet against her body armor. A frayed hole showed in the vest’s fabric above her left breast, but there was only a minor dent on one of the hardened ceramic plates underneath.

Ash began to fall around them. The black-grey particles blew from the damaged skyscraper on the breeze while a pillar of smoke spread out with the wind and obscured the stars. She spotted twisted pieces of the gunship’s hull amidst the fire.

Atkins shouted from the edge of the perimeter, “Stop moving! Put your weapon down!”

Two men dressed in black approached from the direction of One Kansas City Place. The shadows obscured their faces. One figure held an assault rifle across his chest. The other appeared unarmed. Both men stopped several meters away. The closest figure took his hands off his weapon and let it hang from his sling. He reached up and removed his tinted combat goggles. A distant explosion cast the street in an orange glow. Alex backed up and almost fell onto Shepherd.

“Tell your men to stand down, Captain!” Jack Ellzey said.

There was a stunned silence before Murray grumbled, “Just what we needed.”

Alex stared at Ellzey. What was he doing here? Especially after the incident at Peterson. She had done her best to focus on the mission instead of dwelling on what had happened in the medical center’s lobby. Yet seeing Ellzey now forced her to relive the encounter. She clenched her hands into fists until her nails dug into her palms. Shepherd touched her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Then he stood and moved to the edge of the perimeter. Ellzey grinned as soon as he saw Shepherd.

“My dear friends,” Ellzey said loudly, “Captain Shepherd and Ms. Bedford.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shepherd said.

Ellzey ignored him and moved to the team’s perimeter. He stopped in front of Murray and looked him up and down. “Master Sergeant Murray! Now, how long has it been since you were arrested for drunk and disorderly?”

Murray growled by otherwise kept silent.

Ellzey chuckled. “Captain, you act as if stupidity were a virtue! You walked into an ambush and it looks like you’ve lose a third of your team and a very expensive helicopter.”

Alex was surprised at Shepherd’s reaction. He flushed and looked down without replying.

She glanced at the figure beside Ellzey. Strangely, he resembled the man in the concourse of the George Washington Bridge Bus Terminal. He was young, possibly still a teenager. His skin was almost translucent white, and his blue eyes seemed fixed only on her. His mouth was partially open in awe.

“Who is he?” she said uncertainly.

“A friend. A colleague. I was showing him the nightlife of Kansas City.”

“We should get moving,” Wilson said. “We’re still exposed out here.”

“Good observation!” Ellzey exclaimed. “Sergeant… Wilson is it? That’s the first intelligent remark I’ve heard since I came!”

“Were you up there in the tower?” Shepherd said.

“That’s correct. Bird’s eye view. At least until you crashed that mighty machine into it. We made a quick exit.”

“So… you saw everything?”

“The whole shooting match.”

“Why didn’t you warn us?” Alex said.

Ellzey replied serenely, “I have no communications link with your team, Ms. Bedford. I’m just an observer.” He tapped the side of his rifle’s receiver. “I suppose I could have popped off a few shots, but then you and the NEA would have fired at me! Not a very sporting proposition. Although… if I had just a touch of altruism, I might have sacrificed myself for the good of the Directorate.”

“Sir,” Wilson said.

“Yes,” Shepherd replied. “But we can’t use the tower now. It’s unstable and that smoke will make observation hell. We’ll have to find another—”

“Echo 1-6,” a voice broadcast into her ear, “Echo 1-6. This is Phantom 6. Can you hear this?”

“It’s Harrison!” Murray said. “About damn time.”

“What’s going on?” Ellzey said.

Shepherd ignored him. “Phantom 6, this is Echo 1-6. I read you. What is your status?”

“I’m ten miles west of downtown,” Harrison said. “I just transferred to a command vehicle that was on its way from Topeka. I’m still getting my C2 network back online. Give me a SITREP.”

“One of our gunships was shot down and hit our objective. Access to the roof is cut off.”

There was a long pause before Harrison said, “We’re disengaging from the east and south. I need you to go north and help get a perimeter at the airport. We’re going to blow the bridges along I-70 and delay the NEA for as long as we can”

“Does the NEA have any forces in our vicinity?”

“I have reports of enemy units moving west toward your grid. I’ll update your tracker when I get more information. Get going ASAP.”

“I’ve got three of my team down. Can you send anyone for a pickup?”

“What’s their status?”

“All three KIA.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Copy,” Shepherd said. “We’ll mark the area with an IR strobe. Out.”

“Let me guess,” Ellzey said. “That was Colonel Harrison, and he’s instructing you to beat feet toward the airport.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, Captain, you’ve just gone from a team of eleven to a team of eight. With your brilliant leadership, I wouldn’t be surprised if your unit became combat ineffective by the end of the night. I’d leave you to your own devices, but…” Ellzey looked at Alex for a moment, “the Committee would prefer we preserve our assets. I think we’ve seen in the past that I’m worth at least one of your fire teams. Look at it this way: you’ve made a net gain of positive two if I come along.”

“If you do anything that jeopardizes my team, I’ll shoot you and leave you for the NEA,” Shepherd said.

Ellzey grinned. “Not if I shoot first.”

Shepherd gestured for the team to form up. “Let’s go!”

The ache in Alex’s side caused her to grimace as she stood.

“Just a final question,” Ellzey said. “Ms. Bedford, how are you… holding up?”

Alex looked into Ellzey’s eyes and saw a trace of what looked like uncertainty. That’s new.

“If you’re not feeling up to the challenges,” Ellzey said, “well, I guess that would be an end to this little mission.”

“Alex is fine,” Shepherd said. “Get off her back.”

Ellzey’s gaze kept locked with Alex. “Well, Ms. Bedford?”

She realized her answer would settle the mission. She could call for a pick-up – she wanted a pick-up – but then the NEA would overrun Kansas City and continue straight for Colorado Springs. And for the first time, she realized: It’s all up to you, girl. Are you up to it?

She set her jaw. “I’m ready.”