Ambush on Route C
"Hah. What the hell is this...?"
Click—the flashlight snapped on in the darkness, and the commander of the expeditionary force let out a heavy sigh. Beyond the collapsed rubble, a buried underground space lay exposed. The soldiers grimaced in disgust at the sight of the mangled, blood-soaked corpses scattered around, but they couldn't help letting out astonished chuckles.
"Hey, didn't that David Min guy call in artillery with five-digit coordinates, east and north?"
"Yes, sir. He did."
"Crazy bastard. I thought he was just spouting random numbers..."
Both the US and Australian forces usually called in artillery with only three-digit coordinates. Three digits meant 100-meter increments, while five digits were down to 1 meter—but for an infantry unit's observation tools, pinpointing meter-level accuracy was impossible anyway.
Yet David Min had rattled off full five-digit grids right away, so they'd assumed he was bullshitting. But no. Somehow, without artillery radar, GPS gear, or even a laser rangefinder, he'd nailed the exact enemy artillery positions on the first try.
Was that even possible with a human brain? It was absurd. It'd be more believable if he'd just yelled random numbers that happened to match the enemy's position.
The result of that meter-precise fire mission? The total annihilation of an enemy battalion-scale force. Judging by the state of the bodies, it was a recon battalion that hadn't been here long. John Friedman's personal and only reconnaissance unit—wiped out pathetically.
Were we even deployed to repel the enemy, or just to back up David Min? Doubt began flooding the commander's mind.
"We figured out where that major's dog tags came from after bagging a company... What a joke."
They'd thought it was just company-sized, so they'd planned to collect bodies and loot overnight. But battalion-scale? No chance. They grabbed only the high-tech real-time low-latency satellite comms gear and torched the rest. The expeditionary commander quickly prepped to head back to base.
"Kangaroo 6 here. Returning to base. Route C."
"Kangaroo 6 going radio silent."
Even without recon satellites at night, they had to move with utmost caution. The enemy had lost their division-level eyes—the recon battalion—so they'd be extra wary, but "what if" always turned into "what happened," and "no way" got people killed. The expeditionary commander opted for a different return route instead of backtracking.
2nd Platoon up front. 1st Platoon and the commander behind them, with 3rd Platoon bringing up the rear. All radios powered off to avoid signal tracking.
As the commander pushed through the darkness, the 1st Platoon's comms specialist appeared before him.
"What? What's up?"
"Something feels off, sir. Route C was supposed to be crawling with mutants."
"Right. That's why I put 2nd Platoon—our cold-steel experts—up front to quietly clear and push through."
"But there are no mutants ahead. Haven't seen a single corpse the whole way here."
"..."
Isn't that good? The thought crossed his mind, but the commander's face darkened rapidly.
Where the hell had the mutants gone? Or more importantly, why?
It reeked of trouble.
"Fall back. To the junction, then Route B back to base."
"Roger."
This stretch ahead was dangerous. A gut punch of instinct hit the commander— the same one that had saved him and his men in Afghanistan, Iraq, Ukraine.
Just as 2nd Platoon halted and turned back—
"Commander! Multiple radio signals incoming suddenly."
"Which direction?"
"All around, sir."
"Son of a bitch! Flares up!"
The commander yanked off his NVGs and dropped low. Whoosh—the flares rocketed skyward and burst with a bang, flooding the area with daylight brightness.
And there they were: soldiers aiming rifles at them from every direction. As the enemies fumbled to ditch their NVGs in the sudden glare, the commander bellowed,
"Kill everyone except the Kangaroo patch wearers!"
Rat-tat-tat! Gunfire roared through the mountains.
...
Boom-flash—artillery and blinding flares lit up nonstop beyond the ridgeline, and every radio in the base blared to life. The news of the friendly ambush jolted the Australian 2nd Company out of bed; they geared up in record time. A US company was also scrambling for support.
"Mr. David Min! Enemy ambush on our guys! We're heading out to rescue—come with us!"
"Yes, sir. Gearing up."
Cheol-woo responded instantly to the deputy commander's frantic voice bursting into the ops room. No time for questions—this was a straight-up rescue op. Yuri was already suiting up in her hazmat without a second thought.
But a nagging unease froze Cheol-woo in place.
"Cheol-woo, what're you doing? We gotta move!"
"Something's off, right?"
"What?"
"We wiped their recon battalion. Enemy's blind across all of LA now. No sane commander throws troops into unknown territory like that."
"What're you saying?"
"No real confidence, no reinforcements into LA. Only we knew Route C. And they were waiting right there?"
"Ah...?"
"Don't look. Keep your face straight."
As Yuri's eyes widened toward the ops room, Cheol-woo grabbed her chin and turned her away. Realizing what he meant, her gaze wavered. After staring into his eyes, steadying her breath, she nailed a poker face. Only then did Cheol-woo turn back.
"Colonel. A word alone?"
"Sorry, busy now—"
"It's critical. Won't take long."
"..."
Cheol-woo's hand half on his holster, tone unyielding. Colonel Douglas swallowed hard. It was blackmail—a gamble. If Douglas ordered his arrest? The ops room Yanks would drop like flies. Betting everything on Douglas still caring a shred about his men's lives.
Douglas gritted his teeth and followed Cheol-woo to the roof.
"Speak. Whatever your game, threatening me's pointless—I've got nothing to lose."
"Shut up. Call John Friedman now and tell him to pull his unit back."
"...What?"
"You're colluding with the enemy. Think I wouldn't notice?"
The twitch at his eye corner, facial muscles tightening, pupils contracting. Clear signs of panic. Cheol-woo sighed. The enemy's bold moves screamed real-time intel leak from their side. Even if it was a ballsy bluff, Route C—known only to Aussies and rebels—being hit turned suspicion to certainty.
Traitor in high command. Low odds Aussie, so US—and the guy with full LA base authority: Colonel Douglas. Nailed it first shot.
"What the hell are you—"
"Gonna play dumb? Fine. I'll level this base till you spill. I can take Aussie command in emergency; arty obeys me. Know what that means?"
"Seems like a misunderstanding..."
"SteelRain to arty. Respond."
"Contact with expedition commander lost. Command transferring to me now."
"Prepare fire mission. Grid 1-1-Sierra. Mike-Tango-1-4-4. 6-4-8."
"I know. No further orders: fire in 10."
"You gone mad!? Think you'll get away with shelling US troops?"
"And you thought you'd get away with sucking up to parasites? In 10, half the base is gone. The rest die by me. Silence the base, and I'll leisurely prove you're the spy—no beef with rebels. Your call."
"Okay, okay! I'll talk! I was colluding—please—"
"Cease fire. Hold aim."
"Haaa..."
Cheol-woo canceled; confirmation came back. Douglas's legs shook as he exhaled in relief.
This guy wasn't bluffing. He'd really turn on the US troops. If left alone, hundreds would've ascended in their sleep. Douglas couldn't meet Cheol-woo's eyes.
"I... I'll tell everything. Family's in Philadelphia. Brass thinks they're dead, but I got word they're alive. Then John Friedman said if I wanted them safe, spy for him—"
Whirr—the elevator hummed. Douglas's face lit up. Had he called backup? Or unwanted guests? Either way, bad.
Ding—doors opened. Cheol-woo tensed, hand on holster. As the doors slid and Douglas's aide appeared—with pistol barrel—Yuri launched herself, shielding Cheol-woo.
Damn it! Not me—
Cheol-woo burst from her arms, charging. Bang! Muzzle flash; bullet flew. His bare right hand shot out—but no glove, it couldn't stop the round. It punched through, slamming into Douglas's forehead.
Yuri bared her teeth, drawing sword to lunge—but the aide jammed the pistol in his own mouth.
Bang! Muffled shot; he crumpled. A cellphone clattered from his foot.
Not an IED, right? Cheol-woo cautiously picked it up.