The engineer’s voice tailed off as one of the General’s above interrupted curtly, ‘Get to the point, ‘listener’, we need the facts…’
Louis’s head turned to glare upwards, his hatred of the arrogance and deliberate suppression of subordinates rising intensely as his friend swallowed hard, coughing with embarrassment, ‘T-The cut off soldiers report incursions at a high level…black fighters escorting grey dropships, some with camouflage markings…they advise this is clearly identified as an enemy formation…’
Louis concealed a grin as he sensed the uneasy movement of the generals above, several voicing subdued concerns to each other, the voice replying from one, ‘Trajectory? Did they mention a possible direction?’
The engineer’s patience was obviously strained, his voice rising in overwhelming anger and frustration, ‘Sir…these men are under fire…the alien enemy have killed many of this unit. They are cut off and virtually condemned to death…’
The general interrupted again, this time more forcefully, ‘Staff sergeant…I will have you relieved of your command if this continues. Please advise us of the route of this newly identified unit.’
Louis rose to his feet in anger, further radio chatter in his ear as he tuned to his friend’s frequency, ‘Generals…I have the predicted target for you…’ His body spun round, a clenched fist slamming down on the alarm button next to his flashing inoperative console, red lights immediately glowing and pulsing across the darkened control centre, his voice rising in almost distasteful relish, ‘Generals…I have to report, the enemy is targeting this compound…we are now all under direct threat.’ His head turned towards the black engineer he admired and adored so much briefly, then spun back as he heard the figures above begin to rise upwards and shuffle out of the control centre, ‘I am initiating all armed personnel to the surface, but to remain inside the blast doors…’ His voice twisted in sarcasm, smiling grimly as the senior commanders left the wide room, ‘It seems pointless to throw away any more lives if we can hold them at the entrances…we have over twenty subterranean floors and back up defences with control pillboxes on each one…’ He hesitated, believing the senior officer had all left before grinning widely, ‘I believe you are reconvening to the deepest floor for conference?’
Ironic titters and subdued giggles sounded around him, then a stern voice from above silenced everyone, one senior officer remaining, ‘This is General Denton…I am not leaving, the fight continues here…get me CCTV of all the entrances on the main screens. We fight them inside, in narrow corridors and force them into ambush points…they want a victory? They will pay in whatever coloured blood that courses through the veins of these creatures.’ The commander sat back, turning the light below him slightly upwards so the engineers could see his defined frame and lined black and scarred face, numerous medal ribbons displayed across his chest, ‘I want defensive positions set up at corners...heavy machine guns and flamethrowers as well as our current devices to be activated once our troops retreat. Activate the mines outside once our men and women are safely inside…and place trip wires…this will be a slaughterhouse for them.’
The general rose to his feet, staring at the darkened screens, ‘Open the outside doors briefly for any retreating troops and the garrison above, then close and reinforce them. Seal this lower subterranean control room with the outer doors, but only once we secure the last of all our fleeing soldiers…we will stand or die in here!’
Chapter Eight: Eastern United States
A World in Peril
Outer Manhattan, New York, Eastern United States
NYPD Officer Davis Michaels was running, the female national guard corporal and his partner behind, his ears still ringing from the shouts and screams at One World Trade Centre, his body shaking as he spun round between the stationary vehicles to look back, adrenalin surging through his chest. Drenched pedestrians and residents ran past him as he slowed, bile rising from his churning stomach painfully as he retched, his thoughts blurred as he recalled the earlier encounter.
The national guard major at the remembrance building had shouted at him directly, spittle splashing across the black officer’s face as the army commander pushed him forcefully away. He was ordered under martial law powers to leave the site and progress northwards immediately…to get as many civilians and residents across the river as possible, then to leave New York…that the city would soon be lost. Further wary and nervous soldiers were arriving, Humvees and a scorched lorry slewing to a halt as the troopers jumped from the vehicles, lunging forward with assault rifles and ammunition canisters to man the barricades around One World Trade Centre, the powerful automatic spotlights suddenly flickering on, shining upwards in defiance of hatred and aggression as his frame shuddered with emotion.
Davis Michael’s eyes widened as the glass shattered on the upper stories of the memorial tower, snipers and heavy machine gunners smashing the reinforced windows to provide firing points, barrels pushed through the openings to face east and south. Two black helicopters hovered over the city blocks further east, flashes coming from their underbellies as flaming streams swept into the streets further south, billowing smoke and fire searing skywards into the heavy drizzle as explosions tore through stationary vehicles, shops and apartments.
Davis blinked, rainwater running into his eyes as he stared in awe towards the darkening southern horizon of Manhattan Island, heavy black smoke plumes rising upwards, flames flickering across the dull wet buildings and dusk laden sky, the crump of explosions
