Slaughterhouse

THIRTY-ONE.

Turner saw the trucks begin their push through the Klowns from his position to the north. Sitting in an uparmored M1045 Humvee equipped with a TOW missile tube mounted in its cupola and two more in the back, Turner watched scene unfold through the TOW’s optical sight. Several Klown vehicles—mostly Humvees and trucks, along with a mix of battered civilian vehicles—surged toward the wall surrounding Hays Hall. A couple of those closed with the trucks and pulled alongside them, effectively cutting them out of Turner’s line of sight.

“Six, this is Seven,” he said into his radio headset’s boom microphone. “You’ll have to take care of the vehicles closest to you. We’ve got no sight picture. Over.”

“Roger, Seven,” came the terse reply.

“Wizard, this is Seven. Party in ten. Over.”

“Seven, this is Wizard. We’re in position. Break. Thunder, fire in ten. Over.”

“Wizard, this is Thunder. Rounds out in ten. Over.”

Turner turned and checked the second Humvee parked abreast of his. Boats was in the cupola, already leaning into the sight of his Tube-launched, Optically-tracked, Wire-guided missile system. Behind the Humvee, two soldiers stood with spare TOW tubes that contained one missile each. After each unit fired, the gunner would need seven to ten seconds to rearm. Ahead of each Humvee, more soldiers crouched down with their weapons out and ready, prepped to repel any reprisal the Klowns might launch when Turner’s element attacked.

“Boats, fire in five,” Turner said over the radio.

“Five. Roger,” Boats responded perfunctorily.

Turner leaned back into his weapon and lined up on one of the Klown Humvees equipped with a Mk 19. The gunner was already leaning back in his cupola, grenade launcher elevated and firing over the wall.

Five seconds couldn’t come soon enough. Turner and Boats fired at the same time, each tube ejecting a missile that trailed fire. The projectiles were surrounded by bursts of brilliant light as their eight flight fins deployed and the booster motors fired, keeping the projectiles oriented on their targets. The missiles rocked briefly in the air as they made final adjustments then hurtled toward the Klown vehicles at speeds approaching nine hundred twenty feet per second. Turner watched with no small delight as his missile slammed into its targeted Humvee and obliterated it, turning it into flaming wreckage and propelling huge chunks of it through the air. The high-explosive warhead’s detonation caused a shock wave to rip across the battlefield, mowing down a dozen Klowns in an instant. Turner had no idea if they’d been killed by the blast, but they’d certainly had their bells rung in a big way.

“Reload!” he shouted as he began unclipping the expended tube from the base of the launcher. Another explosion blossomed into being as Boats’s round hit a tactical truck, completely eradicating it and leaving only the twisted frame remaining.

That’s how we do it, Turner thought. Take that, you fucks.