Red Winter: Freedom Under Fire - Prologue
Disclaimer: This story series contains harsh language and some yiffy scenes. While this chapter is free of sex scenes, it does contain graphic violence and strong language. Read at your own discretion. Also, I use a few possibly copyrighted names in here, and they belong to their respective owners and I wasn't paid to use them. Go Steelers!
1:21 P.M. - Somewhere East of Denver
"KEEP MOVING!" Jack screamed as he sprinted past rows of derelict cars and burned out houses. The twenty-two year old wolf panted hard as he looked over his shoulder to see his mate Rachel lagging behind him.
"Wait up Jack!" yelled Rachel as she fought her body's will to stop and rest. The twenty year old wolfess slowed down to a trot, unable to keep pace with her better conditioned partner. Jack halted and turned about, waiting for Rachel to catch her breath. He raised his H&K UMP .45 Caliber sub-machinegun to his shoulder and covered her as he listened out for any nearby danger. His ears picked up the faint sound of feet padding rapidly on concrete, and the faint but familiar screech of the infected echoed down the rows of houses in the Denver suburb. Jack noticed his paws were shaking, a sign that his bloodstream was flooded with adrenaline. He and Rachel had sprinted nearly five miles across the ruins of Denver, and now they were almost out of the living hell that had become the once great capital of Colorado.
Rachel finally reached Jack, huffing for breath. While she was by no means out of shape, her body just wasn't prepared to sprint for so long. As much as it pained Jack, he knew they had to keep moving to stay ahead of the infected. He offered to take Rachel's M-4A1 carbine for her so she wouldn't have to run with it. After handing her weapon to Jack, Rachel took one last deep breath before following Jack in all out sprint. Her mouth felt dry, her chest burned, and her legs ached, but she kept pushing herself to move. The howls of the infected drew nearer, signaling that they were not far behind. The surge of fear the flooded Rachel's mind quickly made her forget about the pain in her chest as she ran even faster, trying to keep pace with Jack.
"How....much...farther?" she gasped.
"Let's find out," he replied. With that, Jack stopped and motioned for Rachel to sit and rest. Rachel gladly collapsed on her back, chest heaving as life giving oxygen rushed into her lungs and quickly entered her blood, restoring her body's will to move in a matter of seconds.
Meanwhile Jack pulled out his radio and tried to raise Hammer 2-5, the nearby UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter that had contacted him an hour ago. Jack knew that Hammer 2-5 should have finished refueling by now and be on its way back to pick him and Rachel up. After tuning the radio's dials for a few seconds, Jack managed to raise the helicopter.
"Hammer 2-5 this is Private First Class Jack Campbell, where are you!? My colleague and I are being pursued by 100 plus infected and we can't lose 'em."
"Roger that Private Campbell, we read you. We're approximately three clicks north of your position. We've spotted a large open field that should be safe to land in and are awaiting your arrival."
"Negative Hammer, that's too far. Can't you get any closer to us?" Jack nearly pleaded.
"Umm, hold on..." the co-pilot said as he checked the GPS on the helicopter's navigation computer. "Okay, head east for half a click and we'll meet you in the large clearing in front of the river."
"Affirmative Hammer, we're en route. See you soon." Jack replied.
"I hope so Private, stay safe down there."
With that Jack shut off the radio and tapped Rachel on her foot. "Wake up Rachel, we've gotta move."
Rachel groaned as she wearily got to her feet. Jack lead the way and started running East with Rachel following him as best as she could. However, her body was on the brink of exhaustion and she knew she couldn't take much more. Suddenly a high pitched shriek seemed to echo through the rows of snow covered houses, and soon other shrieks and wails joined in. Rachel forget all about being tired and took off in a mad sprint as fresh adrenaline was pumped into her veins. In no time she was running even with Jack as they made their way to the nearby clearing. Soon they came to a cul-de-sac, marking the end of the neighborhood. Jack led the way as he sprinted between two houses, through their back yards and towards a large open snow covered field.
"We made it!" he gleefully yelled as he rested his paws on his knees and caught his breath. Scanning the sky, he soon saw Hammer 2-5 flying in. Jack pulled a smoke grenade from his bandolier and tossed it into the center of the field. Ten seconds later a large cloud of red smoke was pluming into the air, marking Jack and Rachel's position. The Blackhawk turned around and began to make its approach.
Then, out of nowhere an infected anthro fox came shrieking around a burnt out brick house. His glowing red eyes, blood stained clothes, and yellowish drool made him a fearful sight, but the real enemy was the pathogen that had turned him into a mad, cannibalistic beast. Eyes locking onto the two wolves in the field, the fox let out a piercing cry to signal the location of fresh meat before madly charging his prey.
Jack quickly brought his UMP up and released a two round burst into the fox's chest. The man flew back as two .45 CAP (Colt Automatic Pistol) rounds tore through his bony chest like bricks through a window. The fox collapsed in a shuddering heap in the snow, snorting and gurgling as his lungs filled with blood. Jack scanned the horizon as he handed Rachel her M-4 back. Soon enough a trio of infected wolves appeared and began to charge Jack and Rachel. Jack opened fire with his UMP, putting two rounds into each of the snarling beast's hulking bodies. Rachel clutched her rifle tightly, but in her haste of bringing it to her shoulder she had forgotten to disengage the safety.
Jack's UMP chattered off several more times as a small crowd of infected athros came sprawling over fences and past trees in the back yards of the nearby houses. Jack had been the best shot in his platoon, so it was no surprise that with each double-tap of the UMP an infected would drop to the ground. However, it was not long before the infamous "click" of an empty magazine sounded. Jack quickly began to change magazines, looking over at Rachel who was simply shaking in place, fear having taken over her mid.
"Rachel! Cover me I need to reload!"
Rachel raised her M-4 to her shoulder and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. She shook the weapon, cursing it and repeatedly pulling on the trigger, trying to get it to fire. Her eyes widened with panic as an anthro tiger charged Jack and was about to tackle him.
"Rachel! Shoot it!" he screamed as the bloodthirsty animal leaped for him.
Rachel stood and watched in horror as the beast tackled Jack, shouting in panic as she watched in horror. Jack, however, kept his cool and swung his fist across the tiger's face, and then quickly wrestled it off of him. Rachel raised her M-4 again, and pulled the trigger. Still nothing.
"Rachel, the safety! Turn off the safety!" Jack yelled over the screeching howls of the tiger as it quickly stood back up and prepared to charge Jack again.
Rachel looked on the side of the gun and flicked the selector from SAFE to AUTO. Taking aim, she brought the carbine to her shoulder and unloaded six 5.56x45mm bullets into the tiger's back, many of them flying through him and into the ground. The beast collapsed, dead, only a yard from Jack. Jack stood back up and finished reloading as he trotted over to Rachel, who had begun to cry from the ordeal. He gently stroked her muzzle and rubbed her shoulders, soothingly massaging her and telling her everything was all right now. That thought was quickly put aside however, as a high pitched screech echoed through the trees and soon another hoard of infected people appeared.
Jack was about to take aim, but the thunderous pounding of helicopter blades distracted him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hammer 2-5 finally settling down behind him. Jack signaled for Rachel to run for the helicopter while he opened fire to cover her retreat. Jack slowly walked back, firing off two round bursts as quickly as he could. His steady stream of fire held the infected at bay, but there were far too many for him to handle with just a UMP. Meanwhile, Rachel had made it to the helicopter and leapt inside. The UH-60 had been modified to rescue "carriers," people who were potentially infected with the Hellfire virus or had the pathogen on them but were not necessarily infected themselves. The modified interior had the two pilots sealed off from the passenger compartment, which also mean there was no one in the back with Rachel. Once inside she quickly turned and began firing her M-4 into the fast approaching crowd of nearly a hundred infected.
"Jack, come on! Don't just stand there, move!" Rachel shouted over the thumping of the helicopter blades and gunfire.
Jack's UMP ran out again, leaving him vulnerable to the charging beasts that were a mere fifty feet away from him. He quickly turned and rushed back to the Blackhawk, which was already starting to lift off as the panicked pilots raised the throttle. The helicopter lifted off the ground just as Jack reached it. Leaping into the air, he dropped his UMP and managed to grab onto the edge of the cargo bay with his paws. He hung on for dear life as the helicopter rapidly climbed to one-hundred feet and flew over the frozen river. Jack gritted his teeth as he tried to pull himself up, but his arms just weren't strong enough. He could feel his strength giving way, his fingers becoming sore as the blood slowly left them. He then felt something grab his right wrist.
"Gotcha!" said Rachel as she lied on her stomach and tried to help pull Jack into the helicopter.
The two wolves tried to work together, Jack pulling as Rachel pulled, but it was still no use. He was simply too heavy for either of them to lift. Rachel began to panic and pulled harder, however this caused her to slowly slide out of the helicopter. Jack saw this and immediately reacted.
"Rachel, just let go of me! It's no use, I'm too heavy."
"NO! We didn't come this far just so you could die...now...GET....IN....HERE!" Rachel replied as she yanked on Jack's wrist, trying to pull him up into the Blackhawk.
"Rachel, look at me," he said. Their eyes met. "If you don't let go I'm just going to pull you out with me. Now let go of my wrist!"
Tears formed in Rachel's eyes as she shook her head and said, "NO! If you're going to die, then I'm going with you."
Jack felt his fingers slipping, and he knew there wasn't much time left. Thinking quickly, he took a deep breath and looked up at Rachel. "Rachel, I love you!" With that he suddenly swung his left fist into Rachel's cheek, startling her and causing her to release her grip on his wrist. As soon as he felt her grip loosen, Jack released the side of the helicopter and plummeted to the earth below.
"JACK!" Rachel screamed as she realized what had happened. She looked around, horrified. There were trees everywhere. Oh god, she thought, what if he's impaled on a tree! Tears filled her eyes as she scanned the rapidly disappearing forest. Rachel fell to her knees and wept, silently praying that somehow Jack had survived. And yet in her heart she felt as if a part of her had died, or was still dying, out in the cold, frozen wastes of Denver. I'll never forget you Jack, Rachel thought as she silently thanked her guardian. I'll miss you...
Ten Days Earlier
December 12, 7:34 A.M. EST. Franklin, North Carolina
Jack Campbell panted lightly as he and his best friend Brian concluded their morning jog through the small town of Franklin. Both young wolves served in the North Carolina Militia, and so they spent every morning jogging and working out together. Being in the militia meant heading to a designated base on weekends for formal training, but during the week they could do pretty much whatever they wanted. Unlike many of the kids in their platoon, Jack and Brian took their work seriously and made an effort to condition themselves both physically and mentally. Jack had always wanted to serve in the Army, but with the death of his mom when he was 14, he had been forced to get a job to help support his three younger brothers and one sister. Now, he was serving in his state's militia movement earning a scant $20,000 a year while living in a cramped apartment next to his militia battalion's base of operations.
Jack was twenty-two years old, while his friend Brian was a year older at twenty-three. Both were stoutly built wolves, both standing at six feet and three inches. Brian had light brown, almost mocha colored fur, while Jack's fur was black. Brian's fur was fairly plain, as he was brown over his entire body, while Jack had a white oval shaped patch of fur on his torso and belly. Both wolves wore blue Nike tracksuits as they jogged into the lightly snow dusted parking lot of a McDonald's where they planned to end their morning's exercises. Jack slowed to a trot as he walked over to the front door, smiling behind him at his panting companion.
"C'mon Brian, we didn't run that hard," Jack said as his friend caught up with him.
"Yeah, maybe for you. Damn man, how'd you get so much endurance?" Brian replied.
Jack shrugged and held the door open for his companion. The two friends only ordered coffee, as neither felt like putting anything solid into their stomachs yet. Once they had their steaming beverages, the two wolves took a seat at a nearby booth and sat down, admiring the beautiful mountain scenery that surrounded Franklin. Brian heaved a sigh as he set his cup down on the table and looked out the window, smiling.
"Sure is beautiful out there, isn't it?" he asked Jack.
Jack nodded and said, "I pity anyone who tries to attack us out here. With all these trees and mountains it'd be hell for anyone trying to occupy this place."
"Oh come on man, what do we have here that's strategically important? There's no reason for them to attack us."
"Then why did the state raise 50,000 men for its militia?" Jack countered.
Brian shrugged and said, "Hell if I know, I'm just glad I don't live out in Colorado."
"Why?"
"Didn't yah hear? There's all these rumors floating about that the PRA [People's Republic of America] are gearing up for a winter blitz into Colorado so they can take Kansas and Nebraska in time for planting season."
"Shouldn't they wait until we've just finished harvesting our crops so they have less work to do?" Jack asked.
Brian shook his head. "They're afraid we might ship some of it east. Without the west coast to feed, we've suddenly got a lot more grain to sell, and right now Europe and Russia are hurting ever since things went all WWIII over there."
"I heard NATO was preparing to discuss a treaty, so it can't last much longer." Jack said.
"Are you kidding me? They're only stopping 'cause they ran out of bullets. In three months they'll be back at it, I guarantee you."
Jack thumped his knuckles on the table as he contemplated this. "You know, it's funny. Europe and Russia are fighting over oil; we're fighting ourselves and China for food. Seems like Chaos is in charge now."
Brian chuckled and said, "Yeah, but God still has a plan for all of this, don't worry."
Jack shot him a piercing glare and crumpled a napkin in his paw.
Brian finished sipping his coffee and noticed Jack staring at him. "What? Oh come on man, you're not still blaming Him are you?"
"No," Jack coldly replied, "Why would I blame someone who doesn't exist?"
Brian sadly looked at the table and back up at his friend. "What happened man? You used to be one of the most pious guys I knew and now you're as bitter and cynical as some sociology professor from my school."
A smirk crept across Jack's face as he replied, "Because I've deduced that if God did exist, my life wouldn't be fucked up like it is right now."
"Jack, it's not your fault your mom died. These things happen in life. It was just her time to go."
"Was it? Tell me, what kind of God doesn't protect the mother of five children, huh?"
Brian sighed and said, "Jack, the doctors said your mom's breast cancer had progressed faster than they thought possible. There was nothing they could do."
"Obviously, but if God is supposed to be this benevolent spirit who protects those who worship Him, then surely He could cure something as simple as cancer right?" Jack asked with an air of sarcasm.
"Jack..." Brian started to say
"You say God raised people from the dead, am I right? Then why is my mom still dead? WHY BRIAN?"
Brian sat there, a dejected look coming across his face. "I don't know Jack. But I know He has a plan for us, and it involves you whether you believe in Him or not."
Jack rolled his eyes and sat up from the booth. "Fine Brian, whatever you say. I'm not going to argue with you any further." With that he took his empty coffee cup over to the trash and disposed of it before walking back outside. "I'll see you tomorrow dude," he called back to Brian as he walked back into the frigid air.
Brian sighed and watched his friend jog down the sidewalk back to his apartment. What in the hell happened to you Jack? Brian asked as he finished his coffee and prepared to go home as well. Snow began to fall again, filling the air with small white flakes.
"God damn it!" Jack shouted to himself as he slammed the door of his apartment shut and kicked off his shoes. He smiled to himself, realizing he was asking a god he didn't believe in to curse something. He shook his head as he began to strip out of his tracksuit. Once in his underwear he walked over to his room where he threw his clothes on the floor. He'd have to do a load of laundry later today, but since the garage he shared with his downstairs neighbor didn't have any heating in it, he figured it wouldn't hurt to wait until later in the day when things warmed up a bit, and after he'd had a hot shower. Jack removed his boxers and walked into the bathroom, briefly admiring his muscular arms and well toned chest and stomach. He turned on the shower and whistled while waiting for the water to heat up. Once it reached a tolerable temperature he stepped inside, enjoying the relaxing feeling of his tightened muscles loosening under the warm torrent of water.
As he wetted down his fur, Brian's words still rung in the back of his mind. What happened man, you used to be one of the most pious guys I knew.... Jack beat his fist against the tiles of the shower, cringing at the rush of pain that soon filled his nerves. Unknown to Brian, the loss of his mother was not what pushed Jack over the edge into bitter cynicism. Jack had managed to get over his mother's death thanks to the support he got from his friends, but one friend in particular had been especially instrumental in consoling him. And now, that friend resided some 1,700 miles away in Grand Junction, Colorado. Jack sighed as his mind was reminded of his gloomy past, and that fateful day in December four years earlier when he, as he liked to describe it, "had his soul torn from his body." He gritted his teeth and punched the tiles again. WHY CAN'T I GET OVER HER!
4:36 P.M. - MST
Meanwhile, in the city of Grand Junction, Colorado, a different story was unfolding. A young female wolf had just returned home from college to stay with her family for Christmas, and was now unpacking her car. She was quite beautiful, with snow white fur and jet black tiger stripes that covered her legs, arms, and back. Her tail was also pure white with black fur covering the final three inches. She had a slim, aerodynamic figure, something she managed to attain from years of cross country running. Despite this, she still had a pair of perky, well proportioned breasts that complemented her figure nicely. Standing at 5'9", many of her friends had suggested she become a model, although she was much too shy to do such a thing. Smiling to herself as she tied her long dark brown hair into a ponytail, she stepped out of the driver's seat of her car to great her family.
"Rachel! You're finally home!" said her mother as the two wolves happily embraced on the driveway.
"Hi mom," she happily replied as she broke the hug to greet her older sister and two younger brothers.
"Rachel, oh my god I missed you so much!" exclaimed Rachel's sister, Kelly. Kelly, although two years older than Rachel, was only 5'5" and therefore had to look up at Rachel as they greeted one another. She also had a similar fur patter to Rachel, although her black fur was slightly grayer than Rachel's.
Rachel greeted her brothers Caleb and Daren as well. Caleb had just turned sixteen while Daren had been fourteen for about three months. Both had snow white fur, but unlike their sisters they had no black tiger stripes. Once they had finished greeting their sister, the two wolves grabbed her bags from her car's trunk and proceeded to take them inside. Their mother, Kelly, and Rachel followed suit. Inside Rachel found her father, a tall black furred wolf with white fur on the underside of his muzzle and his chest. However, he was intently watching the news and had not noticed Rachel come in.
"Daddy?" Rachel said as she approached her father from behind.
The wolf turned and immediately a smile crept over his face as he walked over to his daughter. "Rachel! It's good to finally see you again. How was your trip?"
"Meh, boring and dull. There's barely anyone on the highway these days," she replied.
Her father nodded at this. In the back of his mind he contemplated the grim reality behind the lack of traffic. The U.S. Army had recently stationed the 3rd Infantry Division at Grand Junction for "winter exercises." This would explain the constant patrols of F-15s above the city, but it failed to explain why convoys of supply trucks and flights of C-130 cargo planes dropping M1 Abrams tanks and M3 Bradley IFVs. It was obvious the Army knew something was going to happen, and happen soon. However, there had been no call to evacuate, and since Christmas was right around the corner, very few people had decided to leave. Of course, no one besides the Army was coming to Grand Junction either.
Rachel's father gave her a brief hug before looking over at his two sons and saying, "You two can take Rachel's bags to her room for her. Then wash up, it'll be time for dinner in about an hour."
The two wolves nodded and rushed off to deliver the bags. Meanwhile, Rachel and Kelly went off to Kelly's room to catch up on what had been happening with each of them the past few weeks. Rachel's father walked over to the kitchen where he found his wife, Terri, chopping vegetables. Hearing him come in, she turned and noticed the concerned expression on his face.
"Donald? Is something wrong?" she asked.
"I think we should leave."
Terri sighed and said, "Don, please. We just finished discussing this yesterday."
"I know," he said while turning to lean against the kitchen wall, propping himself up with his fists held against it. "But I just can't shake the feeling that we're not safe here."
"Have you seen how many soldiers the Army has brought in this week? Just drive downtown and tell me you don't feel safe."
"I don't. Why is the Army placing so many valuable troops here? Tell me Terri. You know as well as I do that there's nothing here worth protecting with a WHOLE DIVISION of troops."
Terri sighed and turned to face her husband. "Donald, I know you're worried, but please. We haven't been able to have a Christmas with the whole family together since Rachel started college. If we leave now everything will be ruined."
Donald sighed and gently beat his fist against the wall. "Ugh, fine. You're right; we can't ruin Christmas for the kids but...damn it! I just feel like we're sitting ducks in this house."
Terri smiled and walked over to her mate, giving him a caring embrace. "It's all in God's hands honey; everything will be alright."
Donald forced a smile and nodded. I hope I don't regret listening to you Terri, because if my children die from my inaction I don't know how I'll live with myself.
5:30 P.M. MST - 5 Miles West of the Colorado/Utah border
Major General Andrew Voorhees peered through his binoculars as he watched another flight of J-10 Vigorous Dragon fighter jets landed along I-70. The massive highway had been converted into a giant airfield, and now the PRA Army was bringing in its equipment. Over a hundred Chinese made J-10 fighters had been flown in and stored under tarps and makeshift shelters to keep the snow off of them. At the moment the Chinese had about 900 J-10s, although at least another 200 were expected to be cranked out by March. With China's massive industrial complex in wartime mode, mass production of arms was easy. The Chinese had ten times the manufacturing power of the United States, giving it a serious advantage in a battle of attrition. The Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force had given nearly half of their stock of J-10s to the PRA Army Air Corp, and now those planes were about to be put to use.
General Voorhees lowered his binoculars and stared out at the mass of troops he commanded. The 6'1" black furred, red striped tiger-wolf smiled to himself as he watched the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division make its preparations for the coming assault. He turned to a young fox standing behind him and motioned for the fox to come over.
"Sir," the fox said as he saluted.
"Lieutenant, give me sit-rep; how close are we to being ready to begin the assault?" Voorhees asked his aid.
"Sir, the 1st and 2nd brigades are ready to mobilize on your order. The 3rd brigade is at 60% operational capacity. They're still outfitting their tanks with night vision gear, and their IFVs [Infantry Fighting Vehicles] are still refueling."
Voorhees nodded approvingly. Everything was right on schedule. "Hand me that PDA," he instructed the fox. The fox complied and handed over a small Personal Digital Assistant, loaded with everything anyone would want to know about the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division. Voorhees scrolled through a manifest of all of the equipment in his division.
-----LOADING----
1st Mech. Inf Div. Troop Manifest:
25,000 Front Line Infantry- 15,000 Light Assault Infantry, 10,000 Heavy Infantry
2,000 Vehicle Crew Members
2,500 Vehicle Service Crew and Logistics Personnel
150 Special Operations Personnel- Specific Details Classified*
1st Mech. Inf Div. Ground Vehicle Manifest:
250 Type 96 Main Battle Tanks
200 Type 07 IFVs
100 ZBD-97 IFVS
5 Type-89 Armored Command Vehicles
400 NJ2045 1.5 ton 4x4 vehicles
15 Towed 152mm Howitzer Artillery Pieces
------End of List---------
Voorhees scrolled to another page that gave a list of the available air and artillery support. "Lieutenant," he asked, "When will our air support be ready to launch their opening attacks against the U.S.'s positions?"
The fox grabbed the microphone to the radio pack he was wearing and called in the question. A few seconds later he received the answer through his headset. "Sir, we will be ready to launch our first wave in ten minutes."
"Excellent. Follow me; we're heading to the command tent." Voorhees lead the way to his headquarters, a massive tent where nearly a hundred furs kept track of troop positions, enemy activity, supply issues, air support, and any orders that came in from the Salt Lake City HQ where the big brass of the PRA Army were stationed. Voorhees entered the tent and grabbed a radio headset. He looked over at a young tigress sitting at a computer with a map of his troop positions.
"Are our first two attack squadrons ready to begin?" he asked her.
The tigress nodded and said, "Yes General, just give the order and we will begin Operation Winter Furry."
"Alright. Have the 1st and 2nd brigades begin their push along I-70 to the border. Launch the first three J-10 squadrons and have them begin a CAP [combat air patrol] over Grand Junction. Also launch our Q-5 ground attack planes and have them begin their attacks against whatever armor support and anti-aircraft positions the U.S. has put up. Tell the 3rd brigade that the second they reach 90% combat effectiveness they are to begin moving their base of operations to the border where they will finish whatever preparations they require and then move up to support the first two brigades."
"Yes sir, right away," replied the tigress. Soon the tent was alive with chatter as various units began moving out onto I-70 to begin their push towards Grand Junction. The roar of jet engines surged overhead as dozens of J-10 fighters flew off to engage the U.S. Air Force's F-16 and F-15 patrols. The rumbling of tank engines and the telltale squeaking of their treads across pavement filled the air. All the while Voorhees smiled as the familiar sense of god-like power filled his mind. And so it begins, he thought to himself.
5:59 P.M. - Grand Junction
The sun was beginning to set, causing the sky to turn a pale red color. A few stars were visible in the clear, cloudless sky. The city of Grand Junction was abuzz with activity, as people drove home from work, went out to eat, or did some after work Christmas shopping. The ground was frigid and cool, as a light snow had dusted the city the day before. Still, it wasn't too bad outside, provided one did not mind the -20 degree temperatures that were setting in. However, no one could have guessed that a pleasant winter evening was about to be shattered in an instant. Flying at 580 MPH only 500 feet above the ground was a squadron of twelve J-10 fighters armed to the teeth with ATA [Air to Air] missiles.
"This is Red Serpent Leader, all wings report in," said the J-10 squadron leader.
"Red 2, standing by."
"Red 3, all systems functioning."
"Red 4 here, I'm A-Okay."
Red Leader nodded to himself and then radioed the other two flights of four fighters. "Blue Squadron, radio check."
"This is Blue Leader; we're all here awaiting your orders Colonel."
"Excellent. Green Squadron, report in," said Red Leader.
"This is Green Leader, all planes are functioning and ready to begin combat air patrol."
Red Leader mentally checked off "radio test" on his pre-combat checklist. He then switched radio channels and called HQ. "This is Colonel Zou, all twelve of my planes are operational, but we're going to need more than that. My radar is picking up at least three dozen American aircraft. I doubt they've detected us yet, as we should still be under their radar."
General Voorhees listened in on the conversation as another Air Corp colonel replied, "Affirmative colonel. The second squadron should be about six miles behind you, and the third should arrive approximately five minutes after your initial engagement with the enemy."
At this point, Voorhees spoke and said, "Launch the rest of the wing."
"Sir?" said the Air Corp colonel turning to face him. "That's seventy-two J-10s; do we really need that many planes over Grand Junction at once? Our air traffic control is swamped as it is."
"Don't worry," Voorhees replied as he turned off his microphone so Colonel Zou couldn't hear, "The Americans will take care of that issue for us. Just launch the damn planes and give my tanks a fighter umbrella in the next hour or I'll have you shot, understand?"
"Yes sir!" the Air Corp colonel hastily replied. "This is Dragon HQ, new orders from the top. Launch the rest of the wing. Yes damn it, launch them now! Mission? Combat air patrol over Grand Junction, what do you think? Now just get those planes in the air. Over and out."
Voorhees smiled to himself. He didn't really intend to shoot any of his officers, even the incompetent ones. However, fear has a certain way of making people...efficient. Voorhees listened in on his headset as the first waves of fighters began to strike.
"This is Red Leader; all units go full afterburner and climb to 10,000 feet. Then shoot the fuck out of any Yankee aircraft you see." With that, a thunderous roar echoed through the snow capped valleys of Colorado as the symphony of twenty-four jets accelerating to Mach 1.3 filled the air. U.S. airports suddenly noticed a large number of fast moving objects on their radar scopes.
An orange furred cat sitting in the control tower at the Grand Junction Regional Airport nearly spit out his coffee as he noticed the massive blip come across his scope. "Umm, sir?" he said to a nearby Air Force officer who was stationed at the tower as a consultant.
"Hmm?" asked the gray furred wolf as he walked over to the cat. "What is...HOLY FUCK!" exclaimed the wolf as he noticed the radar scope. "Sweet Christ the PRA just decided to drop the hammer!"
"W-what do we do?" asked the cat as he noticed the sound of fear in the wolf's voice.
The wolf didn't answer. He quickly put on a radio headset and dialed into the nearby Air Force base's channel. "This is Major Black, we've got fast movers inbound directly for Grand Junction! I say again, we have enemy fighters inbound for Grand Junction! Scramble all of fighters and get the fucking word out to the ground pounders that they need to get everyone indoors now!"
The sound of air raid sirens filled the air as the terrified people of Grand Junction looked into the sky to see hoards of Chinese fighters flying overhead, dueling with the U.S. fighters. Explosions and fireballs filled the sky as several planes were shot down. An ear piercing shriek filled the air as a noble F-15 had its left wing blown off and began falling in a death spiral towards the city below. The plane crashed hard in the street, sending debris and fire everywhere. Several people had managed to run inside, but a few unlucky ones were cut to ribbons by flying glass and shrapnel. One wolf screamed as he was coated in burning kerosene, and began to roll back and forth on the ground, desperately trying to extinguish himself as his fur and flesh were vaporized in mere seconds. He died moments later, nothing but a heap of charcoal on the street. His corpse still burned as the jet fuel continued to feed the flames.
Soldiers and police officers began running through the streets, shouting at the top of their lungs for everyone to get inside a building. Humvees and police cars sped through the streets with loudspeakers blaring instructions to the horrified and panicking masses of civilians who were certain that the depth of hell were erupting around them as a J-10 slammed into a grocery store, sending a conflagration of smoke and fire out the windows. Hundreds of people who had been hiding inside now ran through the front doors, suffering the same fate as the wolf in the street had moments before. Some were lucky enough to only have their clothes set ablaze, and with their removal the burning stopped. But others were not so lucky, and soon the streets were littered with dozens of bodies of the innocent.
Every radio television station began airing the same announcement in a constant loop. "This is Colonel Nickolas Vanderbilt, United States Army. We are under attack by elements of the PRA. All civilians are to head indoors and seek shelter immediately. The National Guard is beginning evacuation efforts and will provide you with transport. DO NOT try to evacuate on your own or in your own vehicle. We need to keep the streets clear for our forces, and we will NOT STOP for ANYTHING. Any civilians caught in the path of our tanks will not be yielded to, and so for your own safety we strongly recommend you seek shelter inside the interior of a large building or a basement. The National Guard will personally begin evacuating civilians in large numbers shortly. Just remain calm and stay inside."
Back at Rachel's house, her family huddled together in the living room and watched in horror as the carnage of modern warfare played out before them. Fortunately, Rachel's house was located in the eastern suburbs of Grand Junction, and was far away from most of the combat. Periodically a jet or two would pass overhead, but most of the combat was taking place over the downtown area or the smaller towns to the west of Grand Junction. Kelly let out a gasp as she pointed to the television as a live news report came on.
"This is Kurt Trebek for Fox News; I'm standing here at Mack Mesa Airport where, as you can see, paratroopers are landing! The PRA is sending troops in by air, and our forces are nowhere to be found. LOOK! Over there!" The cameraman panned over to a burning M1A2 Abrams tanks with a squad of National Guardsmen taking cover and firing away at the PRA troops that were seemingly raining from the sky. Kurt began speaking again.
"This is unprecedented and truly horrifying! I'm not sure we can make back our studio, but we'll keep on the air as long as possible. If anyone is watching this, get the HELL out of dodge while you can! There's just too many PRA troops landing and...Oh my god!" Kurt shouted as the squad of guardsmen was cut down like animals as a whole platoon of PRA troops passed by their tank. The news anchor back in the Fox New York studio spoke up.
"Kurt! Get out of there man, this is suicide!"
"Jeff, I'm trying damn it! But there's just too much lead and debris flying. Follow me!" he yelled to the cameraman and the two began to make a dash for a nearby apartment building. The camera was aimed at the ground and shook violently as the two furs ran, but they didn't run fast enough. A PRA soldier noticed them and raised his M-16A4 and opened fire. Two three round bursts cut down Kurt and his cameraman with seemingly no effort. Kurt's cameraman was dead, but Kurt had only been hit in the leg and crawled over to see if his colleague was alright.
"Tom, Tom!" he shouted while shaking the dead raccoon's limp figure. The camera was still recording while lying on its side, capturing Kurt's vain efforts to save his friend. Suddenly a wolf wearing black and grey urban camouflage walked into the frame and grabbed Kurt by his collar. Everyone watching gasped as Kurt was flung onto his back and the PRA soldier raised his M-16 to his shoulder.
Jeff, the anchor back in the studio, began yelling, "Cut the feed, CUT THE FEED!" But it wasn't in time and 40 million horrified furs around the world watched as a three round burst blew Kurt's face open and spattered the camera lens with blood. The PRA soldier then walked over and kicked the camera, finally cutting off the feed and closing the window that peered into a living nightmare.
The people in the nearby town of Mack, which was about fifteen miles north west of Grand Junction, began running into the streets and making a mad dash for downtown Grand Junction. They knew the PRA would arrive before the National Guard, and their only hope of survival lied with their ability to run ten miles nonstop to the southwest and reach the safety of U.S. Army lines. More J-10s screamed overhead, vastly outnumbering the U.S. fighters who had been either forced to retreat to the east or shot down. More aircraft were on their way, but it would be hours before they could enter the fight.
Donald looked around at his horrified family, his wife and daughters clutching each other as the continued to watch the battle in the sky as U.S. Patriot missiles launched into the air and blew several J-10 and Q-5 planes into thousands of jagged pieces. But it wasn't enough. Dozens of PRA planes still patrolled the skies, along with several C-130 cargo planes that dropped whole companies of paratrooper infantry. Looking outside, Donald saw a column of M1A2 tanks rolling by, along with a pair of Humvees driving behind them.
"Come on everyone, we're leaving NOW," he sternly ordered.
Terri looked over at him and replied "But Donald, they're telling us to stay at home and wait for..."
"NOW DAMN IT," Donald repeated sternly.
Donald led the way out the front door, but as he started to walk towards Rachel's car, a passing soldier from the 3rd Infantry Division noticed him and angrily shouted, "Hey man what the fuck are you doing? Get back inside! It's not safe out here..."
Just as he said these words a low roar pierced the air. Donald and the soldier looked to the west in horror as a Q-5 fighter-bomber flying low at 300 MPH, began to erratically strafe a convoy of troop trucks passing in front of Donald's house. A stream of 23mm cannon shells rained down followed by a pair of ATS [Air to Surface] missiles. The soldier fell flat on his stomach and covered his ears while Donald pushed his family back inside just as the missiles struck the ground. Neither one of the missiles had gained a radar lock on a target, and so they had simply flown, armed themselves and exploded on contact. Donald heard a series of explosions followed by the crunching of metal and the sound of splintering timbers. The earth shook and he was knocked to his feet, along with the rest of his family. Shaking his head, he stood up and walked back outside. The soldier was gone, having stood up and taken off to catch up with the convoy of Humvees. Donald surveyed the damage in awe, as one of the missiles had landed in his neighbor's front yard across the street, making a massive crater thirty feet in diameter. The other had struck, of all places, right on top of his garage. His SUV and his wife's car, along with Rachel's car had all been blown to smithereens. Donald slumped his shoulders and walked back inside.
"Change of plans. We're hiding in the basement until the National Guard arrives," he instructed. Rachel and Kelly just nodded, as they were still in shock from the situation. Terri helped usher them down to the basement while Daren and Caleb continued to watch the battle from the living room windows.
"Come on you two," Donald said as he grabbed them by their shoulders, "Into the basement, now. Our garage just got blown to bits; I won't have the same thing happen to my sons." The two wolves reluctantly followed their father downstairs to the basement, unsure of what would happen next.
"General, Colonel Zou is reporting that he's lost twenty-nine planes to the U.S.'s fifteen, but we now have air superiority over Grand Junction," reported the tigress.
General Voorhees looked at the large projected command map on the wall of the darkened HQ tent and smiled. "Excellent. Launch wave two of our Q-5s to provide close air support for the 1st Brigade."
"Yes sir."
"Also, what's the ETA of the 1st and 2nd brigades at Mack?" asked Voorhees.
"Sir, they're reporting that American militia ambushed them. They'll be delayed."
"Ambushed? What's the damage?" he asked with a concerned expression.
"One Type 96 is out of action, and a 4x4 truck took an AT round and was completely destroyed. However, the militia units numbered only about one squad in size and were promptly wiped out as they tried to flee," replied the tigress.
"I see," Voorhees said. "Launch our helicopter gunships. Have then scout ahead of the convoy and look for any signs of enemy ambushes."
"Yes sir, right away."
Soon, he thought, another city shall fall and we'll be one step closer to Operation Hellfire. Then they will know fear in its purest form.
8:30 P.M. EST - Franklin, North Carolina
"Fuck!" Jack moaned as the telephone by his bed began to ring. Throwing the thick blankets to the side, he lurched over to his nightstand and answered the phone. "Hello?" he asked in a gravelly voice with an air of annoyance.
"Wake up Jack, something's going down in Colorado," the voice on the other end beckoned.
Jack shook his head to clear his mind. He recognized the voice of his company commander, Captain O'Hare. "Sir, sorry I didn't know it was you. What's going on?"
"Turn on the fucking TV kid and you'll see."
Jack walked out into his living room, cordless phone still in paw, and turned on his TV. "Holy fuck!" he exclaimed as footage of burning buildings and fighter jets came across the screen. "What the hell is going on, sir?"
"The PRA just committed to an all out assault on Colorado. They're moving a whole division of troops through I-70 into Grand Junction. We saw the whole thing coming and they still kicked our asses; they just overwhelmed our aircraft. The good news is their opening airstrikes did almost nothing against our ground forces and we're setting up defenses now. Anyway, enough chit chat. We've just been activated and I need you over here now."
"Activated? Sir, we're not under attack are we?" Jack asked.
"Colorado's in danger of being overrun soldier, we need every man we can get. Apparently since we scored so high in the war games exercises we've got the 'honor' of being sent to the front lines. Now move."
With that Captain O'Hare hung up the phone, leaving Jack to collect his thoughts. What the fuck is going on? Those recruiter bastards said I'd never have to fight outside of...ahh, fuck it. Jack looked back at the TV, the images of burning buildings and wrecked aircraft filling his eyes. Damn, this is seriously messed up. I just hope she's okay...
With that, Jack shut off the TV and ran off to change into his ACU [Army Combat Uniform] digital camo uniform. It was time to kick ass.