Cruz Chronicles - Operation Chronos: Shadowfall (Part 4)

Even though they’re still several clicks away, I can smell the stench of rotten flesh and my gut starts to feel it will turn upside down. Again. For the third time tonight. I’ll never get used to these Nazi experiments. Not in a million years.

This is the second time we’re defending the Hospital Grounds from an attack by the Axis. But this is a different formation from the last encounter. This is not The Mongoose.

 I signaled my Bot Hunter unit to march to the nearest cover I found available for us. As we were moving, I saw a glimpse of the wave of zombies approaching us. One of them, their “leader”, I think, was carrying a mechanical saw. I told myself we should keep that thing in our firing range.

Behind them is a more terrifying sight. Several of their heavy-armored infantry led by what looks like a woman follow closely. Unlike our Heavy Rangers, these offshoots are sluggers, due to their denser armors, as Intel said. We better be more careful.

To our right flank, I noticed the rest of our platoon assumed defensive positions. The empty tenement immediately next to the trees we’re tucked in was quickly occupied by two of our Grim Reaper units, followed shortly by our Big Boss. I saw Bazooka Joe right behind them. Suddenly my radio buzzed with more bad news from our officer: The Assassin, Angela, was spotted. I ordered my squad to remain as hidden as possible.

I checked my ammunition again, made sure my UGL is loaded. Then all of a sudden, I hear one of our Wildfires made the opening fire towards the enemies who camped inside another empty building across the field. It was answered by a couple of rockets from their Hans, followed by the Ludwig lurking behind it. In a matter of seconds, the light walker was reduced to shattered scraps aflame. Bolton, the pilot, was lucky enough he made the jump before the hit.

I try to assess our orders again: we must hold the defenses and we must take out Angela. Losing the Wildfire just like that made me disappointed, at the very least. I looked at my men and they were awed by the sheer firepower of the opposition. How are we supposed to take them out?

Then out of nowhere, from way behind our defense lines, a squad of Heavy Rangers came flying above everyone else. In a span of seconds, it took us, including the Krauts, by surprise, when it landed right in front of the bushes covering an Axis Grenadier squad. The chilling sound of mechanical arms pounding on human flesh, the cracking of ribs and skulls, not to mention the sight of blood and gut squirting like paste from those German bodies, it all felt like a cold stab of solid ice right into my chest. As if it was not enough shock for everyone, a shriek of what sounded like a female suddenly covered the battleground. The Hammers report it in, they took out Angela.

From there, it felt like everything was put to fast forward. Our Tank Busters did what they do best, turning the enemy Hans to molten spare parts. The zombies led by the one they call Grenadier X advanced further forward towards our lines. Our Grim Reapers exchanged loads and loads of bullets against Lara and her companions. My squad together with a squad of Gunners broke our cover, emptying all our rifles and launchers in one concentrated attack against the nearest bunch of undead Krauts. Everything was happening so fast I failed to recognize if the green slime staining my pants and boots was from those Axis abominations or from my own gut when I threw up to their stench.

“Curse you!”“ Go back to the Nazi-dug graves from where you came from!” “Go to hell!” These are just some of the war cries I heard in the intensity of the battle. Well, apart from the howls and grunts and cranks. I think I even yelled something similar myself while I’m pouring my bullets to one of the zombies.

I took a quick look behind me, and saw what we lost on our side of the board. My Bazooka, Michael Terrence, is laying face first on the ground. I willed myself to yell for help but I can’t hear my own voice from the all the noise around me. I told my remaining men to reload and prepare for another strike. I closed my eyes for a bit, took one deep breath. I’m ready to go, I guess. No turning back now. I tightened my grip on my rifle’s handle. “On Three!” I heard myself say. One. Two. And then my radio started to do its weird noise. And then the familiar voice of our Heavy Rangers officer reached my ear:

“Fall back! Enemy on retreat!”