Apocalypse Crucible by Mel Odom Read Free Book Online Page A

turned around.
    “On me,” Danielle instructed as she took the wireless microphone from her jacket pocket and clipped it to her collar. She keyed the power and tucked the earpiece into her other ear. When she ran her finger across the microphone, she heard the rasp that told her the mike was live. Despite the danger, she took off the Kevlar helmet and ran her free hand through her short-cropped hair, trusting that every strand would fall perfectly into place.
    Cezar stood, brought up the camera, and focused on her.
    Danielle moved so that she stood away from the shadow of the building. The burning Volkswagen gave off enough light for her to be clearly seen by viewers. The Humvee and the medical team could be seen in the background, illuminated by the flaming debris that lay scattered across the street.
    “Cue live transmission,” Danielle said.
    “Live transmission cued,” Stolojan replied. “Live in three … two … one … go.”
    Cezar focused on her, framing her from the waist up so she could signal him with her left hand out of the camera’s view.
    “Sanliurfa, Turkey,” Danielle said in a clear voice. The collar microphone was cutting-edge technology, and Stolojan and his crew at OneWorld NewsNet headquarters cleaned up all the audio transmission as the piece went out live. “Also called the City of Prophets because of the biblical history that played out here and in the outlying lands. For generations, armies have marched and warred through these mountains and across the plains. Tonight, a remnant force made up of U.S. Army Rangers, the United Nations Peacekeeping force, and the Turkish army stand together against a common foe.”
    Stepping back, Danielle offered a better view of the rescue attempt by the medical team. She signaled Cezar with her left hand, letting the cameraman know to shift the focus to the struggling soldiers.
    “Under siege from the Syrian army,” Danielle continued, “these troops have faced hardship after hardship. Only last night an air strike rocked the city, destroying buildings and supply warehouses and killing hundreds of citizens. These brave warriors have stood ready to defend the town against a ground attack. Now that attack is here.”
    Artillery rockets lanced across the sky in the distance. Long tails of bright fire trailed them. Less than a moment later, the shells fell amid the city again.
    Danielle waited until the rolling thunder passed. She had learned through hard experience that the attacks often came in waves. Signaling Cezar, she drew his attention to her again.
    “Only moments ago, the Syrians apparently launched another major offensive.” Danielle pointed. “This is what remains of one of the barricades this city’s defenders have erected in the hopes of holding this place.”
    Cezar panned from her to focus on the burning barricade. Gray smoke snaked up into the black sky. A dim yellow haze burned above the piles of rubble. An artillery shell plowed into one of the buildings, toppling the upper story down on the lower in a cascade of tumbling stone and mortar that washed out into the street.
    “Prior to this attack,” Danielle said, “dead American soldiers were hurled into the city by the Syrian army.”
    Growing braver as he lost himself in the camera work, Cezar stepped out from cover and focused on the corpse that had nearly come down on top of them.
    “These men are not new casualties of tonight’s attack,” Danielle announced. “The dried blood on this man’s clothes is days old.” She signaled for the camera to return to her. “The only place the Syrian army could have gotten dead American soldiers is from the border action that took place three days ago. The U.S. Army Rangers pride themselves on never leaving a man behind, but during the evacuation of the Turkish-Syrian border, the 75th, commanded by Captain Cal Remington, was forced by the horrific circumstances to leave their dead behind. The Syrians are using our own dead as weapons