The sound of tungsten connecting with the back of an old leather and rubber dive suit made a sickeningly wet smack. Four neat holes pock-marked the entry points and the heavy brass helmet smashed into the deck with a resounding clang. It was as if the old diving suit had been suddenly unplugged and it rag dolled to the ground. The body he’d been dragging curled forward, trying to get to its wounded feet. Across both the chests of the old diving suits were strapped MP40’s and grenades shoved in their belts. Hochberg could see the wounded ghoul fumble for a grenade a moment before he stepped around the corner, calling out on the radio.
“Contacts at ‘ze bottom are neutralized, I’m moving in for a Bee Dee Ayy.”
He approached with his rifle tucked in perfectly to his form, his highly trained shape molding around the weapon as though it had been designed into him. As he took slow steps forward the black oil oozed out around the chest of the wounded diver, his messy hands unable to quite grasp the stick grenade correctly. Hochberg put two more rounds into the dragging ghoul’s face-mask as it laid back, paralyzed and defenseless from the volley that shattered his spine. The old chief could see the damage that Kessler’s field expedient bomb had done do the second diver, still fumbling with the grenade in its belt.
The explosion must have blasted out waist level and it must have been very close to have so badly wounded the ghoul. Oily liquid welled up from its belly and groin, spilling down in a quick trickle to the steel deck. The legs were tarry hamburger at the thighs, fleshy chunks flayed open from the high velocity shrapnel. There was no way the creature could have stood with a pair of shattered femurs and what looked like an unstable pelvis. The ghoul leaned back onto the legs of the dead compatriot behind him, visual port facing up to Hochberg. The old chief looked down at the mass of wasted life and fired two rounds cleanly through the brass face-mask.
“Clear.”
Kessler and Perry rose up, the SEAL under Kessler helping the captain to his feet. The remaining members of the helm team gathered up round the hatch, the world still bathed in green under the night vision. Royale took point, determined to be the breach man in, tired of seeing his group shrink. Kessler tucked himself in behind the broad chief and taped his shoulder, the silent ‘ready’ sign. Perry lined in behind the old captain and the last two SEALs stacked up opposite of the rest across the door. The lead man on the other side of the hatch reached for the opening mechanism, the door would pull towards him and Royale would be the first man in, followed tightly by Kessler. Royale gave the final call.
“Helm team, in position to breach.”
A pause. Hochberg spoke up.
“Copy. Five minutes out from Engine Room.”
Royale gave the man with his hand on the latch a nod and the SEAL torqued down and yanked back. Light flooded the room, the bridge was well lit. As the hatch rocked open with a screech of old steel hinges, bullets smacked into it, the rounds blasting into hot shrapnel against the hatch, spitting in all directions. Royale was immediately hit by chunks of a 9mm round that had shattered against the old steel door. The volume of fire coming out of the bridge was deafening and the clatter of bullets smacking into steel and ricocheting was merciless. Royal felt heat spread down his forearms from the tearing shards and tucked back as a pipe where his head had been erupted with steam as a heavier chunk of led rebounded off the door and into it. As the door opened the rest of the way the SEAL who pulled it knelt lowly and nodded to Royale, both men taking a quick peak round the corner from opposite sides, one high and one low.
Inside was a time warp. Flags of the 3rd Reich navy were proudly displayed, pictures of the party infamous were adorned on the bulkheads. Crowded behind the central console and periscope well were two brass rimmed dive suits in the middle of reloading their machine pistols. Royale and the other SEAL stole the initiative and fired at the pair at once, sparks and steam shattering around their targets as the SEALs stormed into the room. It was a breach maneuver, the first two men in would handle threats immediately facing the door, the next two would handle threats at the corners and then center, the last men would finish off any remaining threat. The drill would be practiced over and over, until night fell and hands moved without thinking, until it was second nature and as clear as waking up and sneaking to the bathroom in the dark. Royale was immediately smashed to the side from his flank as he entered, his body thrown clear of the door with a tackling ghoul. The second man inside focused on the two targets front and center who looked to be about done with their chore of reloading. He gambled a moment, keeping his weapon up and aiming a perfect shot, knowing that the pause ensured at least one of the pair would fire.
All three shot at the same time. 9mm smacked into the center of the SEALs chest plate. One of the ghouls fell back like a cut down tree, a single zipped hole in his face-mask. As the second SEAL began to fall he felt his body get shoved forward as Kessler pushed in behind, firing madly into the body of the remaining ghoul shooting the machine pistol. For a moment there were three sets of guns firing in a disgusting volley mere feet from one another. The 9mm crashing and smacking into the plating on Kessler and the second SEAL, the tungsten bolts shredding away the shape of the ghouls torso. The exchange took three seconds at most and Perry and the last SEAL had shoved in, Perry leaping on the back of the ghoul that had tackled Royale, the last SEAL stealing a perfect shot into the bottom of the visual port of the billet riddled ghoul. The bloodied creature shuttered for a moment, it’s hands wandering to its magazine pouches before simply looking down and head butting into the deck.
A sickening crunch pierced into the rebreather masks and the staggering breach team glanced over to Royale’s corner. Chief Royale was crumpled under a heavy leather and brass covered ghoul that was in the middle of getting its arm sawed away by Perry and his KA-Bar. Kessler was dazed and in a kneel, his chest pounded from the beating it just endured. The 9mm hadn’t been enough to punch through but it had shattered his ribs and probably battered his heart. His vision blurred a moment and he realized he was looking down at the back of the second man in during the breach who was now face down on the steel floor. Kessler’s head swam in agony, briefly oblivious to the screaming howl beside him as Perry fought back the one armed ghoul that was stabbing him relentlessly. The last SEAL into the room turned and fired his second neat shot squarely into the side window of the heavy brass helmet. The flailing ghoul sprawled overtop of Perry who continued to scream in pain.
Ke looked up the passage way with Doc, the chaos filling their ears, their imaginations running to terrible places with each wretched sound. She looked to Doc and then the other wounded.
“Go on,” Doc said calmly as he finished wrapping a shock sheet around one of the grenade casualties, “See if you can help.”
Ke snagged up a second rifle from one of the disabled SEALs and padded down the hall toward the helm team.
“Medic incoming to helm team.” She hoped her voice was as calm as she was trying to will it into being.