First Strike - - (free romance novels .txt) 📗

was nothing she could do for him. Wendy delicately reached down and rolled him over so she could see his face. 

Lloyd saw Wendy looking down at him. His voice was weak. “Hello, angel.” He struggled to smile as he let out his gasp of air. His body went slack. He was dead.

Tarina was terrified. Her heart was pounding away in her chest. She looked over at Wright. The colonel was edging across the floor toward another window. He slowly got up on one knee and peered out into the swirling mist.

Another shot was fired. The wood beside Wright’s head splintered as the bullet passed right through it. He instantly dropped down to the floor.

“Did you see who’s out there?” Tarina asked Wright.

He shook his head. “The fog is too thick. We need to get out of here. Everyone out the back,” he ordered.

Tarina crawled over to Wendy on her hands and knees. “Come on, we have to go.”

Wendy didn’t say a word. She nodded as she gently placed Lloyd’s head down on the wooden floor. 

“Ladies, let’s go,” commanded Wright.

“You in the house, throw out your weapons and come out with your hands on your hands,” ordered a voice from outside. “Don’t think about making a run for it. I have the place surrounded.”

Wright swore. He also hadn’t expected the enemy to speak to him in English.

“Did you hear that?” said Sheridan.

“Yeah, it sounded like gunfire,” replied Cole.

“I think it came from this direction,” Roberts added, pointing off to their right in the fog.

Sheridan pulled the rifle from his back. “Lead on, Roberts.”

“Spread out,” ordered Cole. “If there are hostiles out here, we won’t know it until we trip over them. Single shots only. No automatic gunfire.”

Tammy raised her snout and sniffed the air. A second later, she growled. Roberts looked over his shoulder and said, “Tammy smells something she doesn’t like.”

Sheridan nodded. “Okay, everyone, be careful.”

With their weapons tight in their shoulders, the thin line of Marines crept forward.

“I warn you to do as I say, or I’ll be forced to burn the house down with you in it,” threatened the voice.

Wright clenched his fists in anger. He didn’t want to surrender, but he didn’t have much choice either. He glanced down at his watch. The first wave of Marines wasn’t due to land for another ten minutes. If they could only hold out until then.

A grenade landed by the closed front door. With a thunderous boom, the flimsy, old wooden door exploded inward. Miraculously, Wendy, who was sitting nearby, was unscathed.

The man outside yelled, “That was your last warning. I have a thermite grenade. The next one goes inside, and I don’t need to tell you how horrible it would be to die roasted alive.”

“Okay, you win, we’re coming out,” said Wright. He stood and walked to the doorway. Tarina and Wendy were about to join Wright when a burst of automatic gunfire cut through the air. Wright’s body jerked as the bullets tore into his chest. His bloodied body tumbled backward into the farmhouse.

A switch in the back of Tarina’s mind flipped the instant Wright’s body hit the floor. With a snarl on her lips, she drew her pistol, darted over to the open door and opened fire. “If you want me, come and get me, you bastards!” she screamed.

The blood in Sheridan’s veins turned to ice. He instantly knew that it was Tarina’s voice he had heard. He began to run. His comrades saw him take off and ran with him.

Emerging out of the mist like avenging wraiths, the Marines burst among the Chosen warriors. Firing their weapons at point-blank range, they cut them down. No quarter was asked for and none was given. In seconds, a dozen Chosen lay in a heap on the ground.

In the fog, a man quietly crept forward and lifted up his arm until his pistol was aimed at Sheridan’s head. He flipped off the safety and placed his finger on the trigger. If he was going to die, he at least was going to take Sheridan with him. He began to squeeze the trigger back. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared right next to the shooter. Before he could switch targets, the man was struck hard on the side of the head with the butt of his assailant weapon. He instantly blacked out and tumbled to the ground.

“Man, you’re gonna regret the day you met me,” said Cole as he grabbed Andrews’ pistol and tossed it aside.

Sheridan looked toward the house. “Tarina, it’s me, Michael. Are you alright?”

“Michael, is that really you?” called out Tarina.

“Yes, do you need help?”

A second later, Tarina burst through the fog and threw her arms around Sheridan’s neck. “I thought I was going to die.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he replied, taking her in his arms and holding her tight.

Roberts ran over to check on Wright. A second later, he called out for one of his Marines to help him. Colonel Wright was badly wounded, but still alive.

From above, the sound of dozens of fighter-bombers flying at treetop level filled the air. Sheridan and Tarina turned their heads and watched as a wall of flame swept over the Kurgan lines. 

The ground invasion had begun.

Cole quickly established a cordon with the few people he had. He didn’t want any more surprises today.

A few minutes later, a strange rumbling noise came out of the fog. Sheridan placed Tarina behind his body and looked out into the mist. It was slowly beginning to lift. A couple of anxious seconds passed before a massive shape emerged out of the fog. With a loud holler, Sheridan jumped up into the air when he recognized the tanks. They were Pershing heavy tanks from the First Armored Division. 

The Marines were here.

While a medic looked at Wright, Roberts and the other Marines moved Lloyd’s body outside of the building and covered it with a blanket.

“What do you want to do with this sack of crap?” Cole asked Sheridan as he looked down at Andrews, tied up at his feet.

“I’d like nothing better than to put a bullet between his eyes, but he’s probably worth more to us alive than dead,” replied Sheridan. “The counterintelligence folks, especially the psychics, would love to see into his mind.”

Andrews turned his head and looked up at Sheridan. With a demonic gleam in his eyes, he said, “Your friend, the old black woman, I thought you should know that she begged for her life before I strung her up.”

Sheridan let out a guttural cry and then smashed his right knee into Andrews’ head, knocking him over. Before Cole could grab him, Sheridan dropped to his knees and began to pummel Andrews’ face.

“No, that’s what he wants you to do,” said Cole as he grabbed Sheridan by the shoulders and pulled him off Andrews. 

Sheridan fought to control the fire raging through his heart. He had never hated a person so much in his entire life. So far killing Kurgans had been about survival, this was different . . . this was personal. He looked over at Cole and reluctantly nodded.

“Get the prisoner on his feet,” Cole ordered. 

A young Marine ran over and hauled Andrews up off the ground. Unbeknown to anyone, he had cut his bindings using a small knife hidden in his belt. With cat-like reflexes, Andrews pulled the surprised soldier’s bayonet from its scabbard, grabbed her from behind and jammed the blade under the Marine’s throat. “Everyone step back, place your weapons on the ground, or I will kill this woman,” warned Andrews.

Sheridan raised his hands and said, “You know we can’t do that. Don’t be a fool, Andrews, let her go and drop the knife.”

“Screw that! I’m not going to let your people torture me for information.” Andrews pushed the knife into the soldier’s skin, cutting her. She winced in pain but didn’t cry out.

Cole moved to one side trying to get a clear shot.

Andrews saw the move and edged back slightly using the hostage as a human shield. He yelled,“I’m not afraid to die. In fact, dying for the Lord is what I crave. I’ll give you five seconds before I kill her!”

The attack never came from Sheridan and Cole. With a deep growl, Tammy sprinted at Andrews, jumped up into the air and clamped down hard on his arm with her teeth. Andrews howled in pain and let go of the Marine, who spun around on her feet and punched him right in the face. He staggered back on his feet. Blood poured down his face from a broken nose.

Roberts ran out of the building, pushed the soldier to one side, grabbed Tammy’s collar and pulled her back before Andrews could swing his knife around to stab her.

Valuable or not, Sheridan had had enough of Andrews. He drew his own bayonet and stepped forward. “If you want to die, I’m willing to oblige you. Why don’t you try that with me?”

Andrews wiped the blood from his face. “Killing you before I die would bring me nothing but pleasure,” he replied.

“No!” Tarina screamed in fear as she ran outside. Cole grabbed her in his arms, looked into her eyes and shook his head.

Sheridan warily stepped forward with his knife held out in front of him. He looked into Andrews’ cold, unfeeling eyes. 

With a loud yell, Andrews charged at Sheridan, who saw the move coming, sidestepped his opponent and slashed at Andrews’ side as he ran by. Blood seeped out from a gash cut along Andrews’ ribs. He grimaced in pain, spun about and dove at Sheridan, hitting him in the stomach. Both men tumbled to the ground locked in a deadly embrace.

Tarina cried out and tried to escape Cole’s vise-like grip.

Sheridan and Andrews rolled from side to side, trying to pin the other. Snarling like an animal, Andrews bared his teeth and tried to force his head down so he could bite Sheridan’s face. Spittle flew from Andrews’ mouth as he cursed Sheridan and every non-believer in the galaxy. Sheridan cried in agony when Andrews struck him in his wounded shoulder. The painkillers didn’t help one bit. The pain was excruciating. Gritting his teeth, Sheridan brought up his right knee into his opponent’s stomach and pushed him away.

Both men got right back up onto their feet. For a couple of seconds, they stood there eyeing one another, trying to catch their breath. Andrews wanted to die. He wanted to end the fight, but not before he killed Sheridan in front of his friends. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he flung his bayonet at Sheridan’s exposed stomach.

Tarina saw the knife strike home and screamed. However, instead of dropping to the ground, Sheridan remained on his feet. He looked over at Andrews and smiled. He slowly pulled the bayonet from his jacket and flipped it over in his hand until he was holding it by the blade.

“That can’t be. You should be dead!” Andrews screamed.

“After you,” replied Sheridan as he hurled the knife straight at Andrews. With a wet thud, the bayonet sank deep into Andrews’ chest. With a stunned look of disbelief in his eyes, Andrews looked down at the