At his command, the focusing projector lifted, and so did the beam destroying the American bunker. As if the ray was a giant knife, the strategic-level laser sliced and diced the American bunker that had stood against countless Chinese assaults.
Bao flinched as a red alert beacon flashed on his screen in the corner. It kept disappearing and reappearing, and put red spots in his eyes. The beacon had never flashed before. With missile and air destruction, they used pulse shots, not a continuous burn.
“Shut down power,” Bao said, speaking sharply.
The horrible whine climbed down the octaves, bringing needed relief to the crew.
“Dampening estimate?” Bao asked.
“Two minutes,” the dampening officer said.
Bao licked his lips. This was going to be a long day. He’d read the report on projected MC ABM use for today. It would leave them with less anti-missile and anti-air protection than usual. High Command must believe this ground use outweighed a possible American surprise air attack.
First glancing around to make certain no one watched, Bao opened the compartment under his chair. He took out the medicine. He twisted the lid and drank from it. The cool, thick liquid slid down his throat. He was going to have to take several swallows to put his ulcer to rest today.
In another few minutes, they would fire again at a different target. The Americans were going to learn a lesson they would not soon forget. Bao hoped it didn’t ruin his MC ABM or any of the carefully calibrated components.
He checked his watch. Then he took another sip before stowing the bottle. This was going to be a long day.
The morning began like many others for Jake. He stretched sore muscles and ate a light breakfast of MREs.
The blockhouse position had held off countless attacks. The landmines, the razor wire, the heavy ferroconcrete walls combined with the stubbornness of the defenders had thwarted the Chinese many times. The blockhouse indeed stood like an anchor.
More than once the Chinese had driven back the U.S. divisions on either side of the blockhouse. But because the three-story building stood, pouring fire on the Chinese from the flanks, the Americans soon regained the lost ground. Bulldozers, Gunhawks, drones, Special Infantry assaults, mortars from the top of the tall buildings to the east, nothing had dislodged the dwindling Eleventh CDM Battalion from its castle.
Fifty-three effectives remained, led by the Lieutenant. None of his old muscle-bound NCOs remained. Jake and Goose still lived, and they had fought many grueling battles in the sewer system.
Jake donned his stolen Chinese body armor. He picked up his M-16 and strode to the Lieutenant. They were on the ground floor. The big Lieutenant listened to the radio.
“Anything new?” asked Jake.
The Lieutenant looked up. Like the rest of them, the man had gray features and hollow-staring eyes. He’d lost weight, but something still flickered in his gaze, something solemn and maybe even majestic, although it was certainly crazed with inhuman determination.
“The Chinese—” the Lieutenant said.
A strange phenomenon halted his words. Nothing like this had ever happened before. A gaping hole appeared in the wall. It just appeared, and there was hot wavering air in the center of the room. A second later, another hole appeared as if an invisible nail had been punched through, although the edges of the holes burned.
“What’s happening?” asked Jake.
The Lieutenant stared at him in incomprehension.
The hot wavering beam in the building began sliding leftward. As it did, an invisible knife appeared to cut out the front wall and then the back wall at exactly the same position.
“Enemy laser!” the Lieutenant roared. “Everyone into the sewer system!”
The blockhouse shook and trembled, and dust rose and concrete rained.
Jake didn’t know what was going on, but he’d heard enough. This was freaking crazy. He grabbed the lip of his helmet—he wore it on his head—and he raced for the stairs. As he ran, more of the blockhouse trembled and shook, and now the strange phenomenon started to climb, cutting out wall as it did.
The world became a giant earthquake for Jake. Concrete rained and walls collapsed. Everything rumbled. He sprinted, dodged, caromed off something and made it into the basement. He moved to the opening to the sewer system. Like rats running for their lives, Militiamen disappeared into the opening.
Jake looked back.
The Lieutenant turned ghost white. “Go, go, go!” he seemed to say. Jake couldn’t hear a thing. The earth was too busy rocking and roaring. It was surreal. It was a nightmare. Jake made it down the hole. He didn’t bother with the steel ladder. He just dropped and landed heavily. It hurt his feet and he collapsed. Survival instinct kept him going. He crawled on his hands and knees. Something smashed behind him, a body perhaps. Heavy thuds hammered above him. Was the blockhouse coming down on their heads? This was madness. The damned Chinese had everything.
With his mouth opening as he panted heavily, Jake crawled and crawled. Maybe a hundred yards later a shouting voice brought a modicum of sanity to him. He looked back. In the gloom and drifting dust, the Lieutenant stared at him with nearly blank eyes.
“What?” Jake managed to ask.
“Heavy laser,” the Lieutenant said. His voice was without emotion.
“What do you mean?” Jake said.
The Lieutenant shook his head. Then he said, “Is there an open area near here?”
Jake tried to think. More rumbles sounded, crashes and roars. The blockhouse came down and a billowing dust cloud rolled at them, choking him and turning everything dark.
An hour later, the Lieutenant took roll call in the sewer. Nineteen effectives were left, among them Goose.
“Do you know which way to our lines?” the Lieutenant asked.
“Yeah,” Jake muttered.
“Then let’s go,” the Lieutenant.
“Why?” asked Jake.
The Lieutenant took his time answering. Finally, he asked, “Did you enjoy that?”
Jake managed a dull laugh.
“Neither did I,” the Lieutenant said.
“So?”
“We’re going to report this. Then I’m going to pay back the Chinese. I remember every hurt, then double it and look for a way to do it back to them.”
Jake shook his head. “We can’t do anything like they just did.”
“We’ll see,” the Lieutenant said. “Until then, are you still with me?”
Jake knew the Lieutenant was nuts: not just a little battle crazy, but truly over the deep end. What did it matter, though?
“Yeah, sure, I’m with you,” Jake said.
“Good,” the Lieutenant said. “Lead the way. We need to report to somebody what just happened to our blockhouse.”
Two East Lightning operatives flanked Shun Li as she strode down a large corridor leading to Police Minister Xiao’s chamber. Each had an open holster, with his gun-hand drifting near the weapon. The leftward operative had a jet-black ring on his middle finger.
The two operatives had picked her up at her apartment after Tang—one of Hong’s Lion Guardsman—had dropped her off.
They had said nothing driving her to the Police Ministry. Now the three of them hurried. The truth of the matter was that Shun Li had been expecting something like this for several days.
She visited Chairman Hong’s country estate every day. She often played with the polar bear cub. Each time was a frightening experience. She played with the cub as the mother bear paced behind iron bars, watching. Often, the mother roared at Shun Li, furious that a human should touch her precious cub. Shun Li had begun to wonder if this was a game with Hong. Would he let the iron bars rise one of these days and laugh as the mother bear destroyed her?