“ Mother fucker…incoming!!”
The seismic ordnance slammed into and through the rock formation. The ground there shook like San Francisco in ’89. The earth ripped open in a crevice cutting into the plateau.
Three men toppled into the newly formed hole as did a dog sled, pulling six yapping K9s with it. Jon himself tottered on the brink only to be steadied by Reverend Johnny’s firm grip.
The line of hooded demonic attackers continued to approach.
The human soldiers regrouped along the defensive wall and fired with renewed enthusiasm.
Bullets slammed into Wraiths one after another. Instead of falling, their bodies evaporated into dust that blew off in the wind leaving behind empty cloaks fluttering to the ground.
“They are as fragile as fine china!” Reverend Johnny shouted. “Let us smash them!”
One of the fiends slightly tilted its head, opened its mouth unnaturally wide, and let out a sound to make Mephistopheles tremble.
‘wwwwwhhhHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
A shimmering, focused cone of scream traveled through the air and enveloped a soldier. He dropped his rifle and clutched the hood of his parka just before his head exploded, splashing red gore on the man’s white clothing. His lifeless body hovered for a moment then flopped to the ground.
“For this is what the LORD says: I will send terror upon you and all your friends, and you will watch as they are slaughtered by the swords of the enemy!”
Reverend Johnny stood on the defensive ledge and let loose a lethal wave of machine gun rounds, evaporating two then three of the skeletal beings.
Yet they moved forward.
‘wwwwhhhhhhahhHHHHAAAAA”
Another…then a second Imperial soldier suffered Wraith screams. Two more heads exploded.
The Vikings, meanwhile, continued to fire at the humans but also faced the new threat. They turned their catapult-like artillery on the Wraiths. The first shot smashed into a wave of enemies crossing the glacier toward the Vikings’ position.
Three Wraiths flew through the air into the center of the blast zone where their bodies and cloaks disintegrated.
Then the creatures unleashed their song of death on the Vikings. The tops of two ponchos popped like sick balloons; bloody goggles went flying.
Another Viking artillery round hit the Wraith formation.
The giant took aim at a new target. Its massive arms swung toward the sky, hovered for a moment, then crashed to the surface once again. The earth moved as if the monster had flicked one end of a jump rope.
The Vikings scattered as the earthquake hit amidst the artillery battery. The crew and the machine wobbled then fell into a new fissure in the ground. Artillery shells burst on their way down causing an explosion to roar from the crevice.
While both sides battled the Wraiths, Captain Fink and his counterpart on the Viking side continued to exchange fire. Sharpshooters plugged enemies, machine and rail gun rounds raced back and forth between the two camps. Smoke from expended cartridges joined frosty exhales to create a fine white frost hovering over the pandemonium.
Military tactics deteriorated into mayhem in this three-way battle.
Explosions. Screams. Dirt and snow, rock and bloody body parts flying through the air; soldiers running to and from cover, firing and hiding, reloading and gasping for breath.
On the western wall of the human camp, Reverend Johnny stood tall in defiance of the demons, wielded his machine gun and cursed, “You crushed the heads of the wicked and laid bare their bones from head to toe!”
His bullets blasted to pieces two Wraiths, but a third dropped its jaw and focused on the loud man with the big weapon. Its scream took form and shimmied directly for the Reverend.
Jon Brewer tackled him, machine gun and all. The cone of noise hit the rock formation he stood upon a split second before and it shattered into pebbles.
Jon poked his head up from cover.
Most of the first wave of Wraiths had been dusted by both the human army and the Vikings. Yet a substantial number of the things remained, clustered near their giant hundreds of yards from the rocky plateau. No doubt they could stay out there and launch earthquakes, inflicting casualties and a loss of supplies that Jon could not afford to lose.
Reverend Johnny sat on his knees, dusted snow and mud from the thighs of his white winter suit, and said, “Praise the Lord, General, I did not realize that I stood on such shaky ground!”
“You’re welcome,” Brewer answered. “I’m thinking they’re going to stay out there and have that big ugly thing slam its fist and-wait a second. Shaky ground?”
Johnny cocked a smile and noted, “You have the twinkle of inspiration in your eye.”
“Reverend, get the mortar teams over here and load up on WP.”
“You plan to melt them?”
“Awe, gee, Rev, you want me to explain it to you? GET MOVING!”
Reverend Johnny, properly motivated, hurried to gather the men and their equipment.
In the meantime, a soldier approached General Brewer holding an AT4 missile launcher.
“Sir? What do you think?
Jon shrugged. “It’s a distance but worth a try. I’ll cover you.”
The soldier and the General approached the rim of the rock island. Jon fired from his M4 at two nearby Wraiths; they scattered for non-existent cover.
This bought the soldier time and space to run out onto the snow, kneel, and take aim at the giant. While far away, the thing stood tall.
The missile launched, spewing exhaust rearwards while the warhead raced forward like an oversized flaming arrow. Particularly well-aimed, the shot sped directly for the creature’s slack-jawed face. At the last second, the beast swayed its upper body as if bobbing to the beat in a dance club. The projectile spiraled off into the midnight sun leaving behind a harmless contrail.
Jon and the rocket soldier retreated.
While the Wraiths contemplated their next move, the Vikings and humans continued their battle around the center of the rocky plateau.
A human sharpshooter sniped a Viking officer. In turn, an explosive charge lobbed by one of the aliens obliterated that sharpshooter and injured two other soldiers.
Fink fired from the M208 grenade launcher on his M16. The explosion filled a pair of Vikings with deadly shrapnel.
The Captain paused and took stock of his force. The lines held, but too many red-stained white parkas lay motionless on the ground and many more limped about or cried for medics. Certainly they gave as good as they got, but at this pace even victory might mean the end of their expedition.
“Keep up your fire, boys!” Fink returned to the business of killing.
Back on the western flank facing the Wraiths and their behemoth, mortar rounds lobbed toward the giant, smacking into the ground- the ice — in front of it. The white phosphorous exploded in crackles and clouds of white with burning cores creating a blast of heat.
“C’mon sweetheart,” Brewer mumbled as he watched the gargantuan through his binoculars. “You just know you want to send another tremor our way.”
More rounds hit, exploding like sparklers. A wall of smoke grew in front of the Wraith army, obscuring the giant to its knees. It glared at the humans hiding among the rocks and slung its big fists into the air once again.
Those fists slammed into the ground. Slammed into the ice of the glacier. The same glacier that had swallowed some of Brewer’s men during their trek across the frozen wastes. The same glacier that had been retreating and eroding over the centuries. The same glacier that had been further weakened by several rounds of burning, melting and exploding incendiary shells.
The fists of the giant slammed into and through the ground, its earthquake exploding around its feet like a backfiring bullet. The tremor dissipated, the ice cap collapsed in a big circle. This time Wraiths fell to oblivion.
