Atlas Reloaded - Book Five of the Damned of the 2/19th

The True Face of Atlas

She snorted at that, shaking her head.

"This is a hell of a place. It feels right, here, you know?" She said.

I nodded. "Yup."

"Hell, I haven't done my job in like six years. I'm hoping you'll let me load a few trailers, blow the rust off my old driving skills, so I can spare you on the forklift," she said, almost wistfully.

"We can do that on the next set of trailers," I offered.

"Really?" She asked.

"Just don't tell that asshole Corporal running this place, all right, Helga?" I grinned.

She laughed at that, punching my shoulder playfully. "Sure thing, Franky," She got a wicked look in her eyes and gave me a grin. "Tell you what, Franky, you let me load a few trailers, I'll let you blow a load in my mouth."

"I don't know," I said, drawing out the words. "How do I know you're not going to leave me high and dry?"

"I might. I'm married after all," she said. "Woman's prerogative to change her mine."

"Ain't no women in the Army, just swinging dicks and bouncing titties, all colored green and ugly as a shaved monkey," I told her, giving her my best Clint Eastwood impression.

That made her laugh.

"So you'll let me load the next couple trucks?" She asked again.

"Sure," I looked at her. "Just so we're clear, you ain't gotta actually blow me or nothing."

Carol shook her head. "I know, Franky. I'm not gonna run crying sexual harassment. It's just, you know, kinda fun to play around," she sighed. "Never really much had the chance before now."

I frowned at her. "You're IAR." (Inactive Army Reserve)

She nodded. "Yeah. My husband and I both work. It's been more a phone tree call in system than anything else since like '79, so this is more Army stuff than I've done in years. I never got to do all this flirting and shit," She blew out smoke and sighed. "From a small town, Franky."

"I get it," I told her. I kind of did.

We both went silent after that.

When we finished our cigarettes we headed back into the bunker where the forklift was waiting. I fired it up, idling forward and putting the forks under the first pallet, moving by feel and Carol's hand motions to slide my forks under only three pallets instead of four. There was only a little left of this stack, then another lot number. I figured I'd pull some more of it, slap it on the pad, and by the time the trucks should be...

From outside the bunker came a sharp explosion that made the ground shudder hard enough I could feel it through the forklift.

I half stood up on the brake, leaning out of the cab, grabbing Carol's LBE. She was completely relaxed, her limbic system not even reacting to the explosion that hadn't even started echoing back yet.

The stacks looked weird. Like grass waving in the breeze, moving back and forth serpentine, a suggestion of movement more than anything.

Only an inch, maybe two.

There was another detonation and the lizard screamed in terror at something I'd spotted first for a change.

The stacks leaned further out before inertia and tension pulled them back. They started moving side to side as well and I saw banding start to snap on the pallets, the rusted steel unable to handle the stress of the shifting and moving rounds.

I snatched Carol off her feet, lifting her up, yanking her into the cab, and slapping her down onto the engine cover next to me. Something in my back burned with cold fire as I grabbed the rain curtain and pulled it closed.

There were popping noises and low groans through the bunker.

A third detonation, this one louder, as I reached across Carol and pulled the curtain shut.

no fourth no fourth no fourth please no fourth

The stacks sang in almost animal pain as the stacks lost the war Newton. Banding was snapping, wooden pallets cracking and shattering and splintering. Single rounds were popping loose, falling between the stacks as one stack leaned further out than the other, the 200 pound rounds preventing the stack from coming back all the way, making it bow in the middle. More rounds popping free.

I saw one of the rusted 155mm rounds tear apart at the middle as the twisting and bending stress caused the rust compromised steel to fail, I could see the submunitions for a second.

"GET READY!" I bellowed, grabbing the back of Carols neck and jamming her face into my crotch. I leaned over her, opening my mouth, lacing my fingers over my neck and hunching my shoulders.

Carol screamed as the stacks collapsed around us in the roar of falling metal. The forklift shuddered as pallets of 155mm APERS FASCAM rounds rained down on us.

The forklift was battered as round shit the roof, the plexiglass cracking. It clanged as rounds bounced against it. It shook as rounds hit the back deck where the counterweight was and bounced free. The plexiglass went and something hit me in the helmet, my neck burning.

Everything went gray.

But I could still hear it.

thwip thwip thwip

Something hit me across the back and slammed me against Carol. Something else hit my thigh. Something else hit my helmet and my head was nothing but a rushing noise and gray static.

thwip thwip thwip

The thunder ended. Just a few clatters as isolated rounds or full pallets fell.

thwip thwip thwip

shit