The shadows and silhouettes of many isolated corpses lay across the snow on either side of the motorway, several huddled together in frozen lifeless embrace, exposure to the harsh and merciless elements overwhelming many of the fleeing walkers before the ultimate horrors of war caught up with stragglers. Small pools of smouldering acid gurgled and scorched the frozen earth beneath, a number of the half consumed charred bodies contorted in the final positions of excruciating agony as the splattered putrid liquid seared through organs and bone to end their existences.
Two short lines of white camouflaged soldiers trudged reluctantly towards the glow on the horizon, the rumble of gunfire and artillery sweeping across the snow bound terrain in waves, the sound distorted in the cold air. Clouds of exhaled breath hung in the frozen air between the figures, many of the hunched grim men avoiding glancing into the burning vehicles and at morbid sights around them, the flickering flames illuminating their figures as their boots crunched through the snow. The stench of roasted and smouldering flesh filled their nostrils, charcoaled lifeless bodies slumped in and around the burnt out and shattered vehicles, the steel roofs torn by laser and heavy machine gun fire.
Morgon fighters had targeted the fleeing civilians to block the roads or motorways leading to and from the city, preventing effective deployment of the Russian reserves and spreading mass panic, the numerous sorties over the last two days terrorising and slaughtering the fleeing residents of St Petersburg. Many of the stranded survivors simply succumbed to the sub-zero elements as their engines stalled or cars bogged down attempting to slip past the disabled or burning vehicles. Many more were shattered by the merciless fire from above, acid and fragmentation devices dropped in large numbers as the black fighters strafed the motorway continuously throughout daylight.
The main motorway was now known as the ‘highway of death’ amongst despondent advancing soldiers, most stepping towards a shattered city from which they would not return. They had heard the rumours and stories…of half eaten residents and wounded that had been put to the sword, many gritting their teeth in distain as the Morgon ceremonial twin bladed weapon had been described in gruesome detail.
Fading rumours of hope were still circulating…of specialist Spetsnaz (Russian Special Forces) units that were driving the vicious invaders back, that airborne troops had cut off the alien invaders further north and that the fighting was bitter, but that the shores and northern border of Finland were once again in Russian hands. All were false…within the three and a half days since the Morgon shock troops had emerged from the frozen water, the Russian forces had been driven back street by street and across the many river contributories, units that were once strong now reduced to just a handful of men fighting in isolated buildings and small groups, the cohesion breaking down.
The Russian Air Force had been driven from the skies, now only able to fly low level during the hours of darkness for protection, the Morgon fighter strength growing in number as a vast underwater ship settled deep in the Baltic Sea, reinforcing the initial landings.
During darkness, the few surviving wounded soldiers stared down grimly from evacuation helicopters as they returned from the burning city, the sights of flickering fires and the silhouettes of bodies strewn across the freezing white expanse below lining the motorway for miles. The land for hundreds of metres on either side of the ‘highway of death’ was corrupted and showered in booby trap devices.
Several areas were even marked under the suspicion of nano-drops, the belief that small predatory droids were buried under the snow, programmed to patiently wait for unsuspecting victims that stepped overhead terrifying even the most hardened military veterans. A medical unit had already fallen as victims to the hidden enemy, innocently setting up a temporary forward shelter and treatment area in a small forest for retreating soldiers and civilians alike.
An advancing unit had found the shredded bodies the following day, internal organs torn and limbs severed, pierced skulls and vacant eye sockets providing evidence of the most horrific injuries that had occurred internally, and whilst the victims were still alive. Numerous tiny blood trails provided evidence of a mechanised adversary the soldiers had never experienced or even comprehended before, the tracks promptly disappearing beneath the frozen earth nearby, many of the men backing away as collective realisation began to spread through the two forward platoons.
The unit had hastily withdrawn to a tarmacked road nearby, many of the troops straining their eyes and kicking out at the snow beneath their boots in fear as the commander attempted to re-establish calm and discipline, the overwhelming psychological strain of combat and terror beginning to affect several deeply.
Reports of the new traps were circulated rapidly, the Russians now believing the nano-droids moved after specific time intervals, laying in ambush for the next passing victims, but as yet remaining away from tarmacked surface…the reason unclear.
Lower St Petersburg suburb:
Juri Medvedev’s eyes flickered open, dust falling across his dried face from the cracked ceiling above, the young Russian officer rolling over and coughing, his croaked voice shaking as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees wearily, spitting phlegm onto the blood smeared and grime caked carpet beneath.
His chest heaving, he glanced round, the shadows of two of his men nodding a greeting
