Free Callsign: King II- Underworld by Jeremy Robinson

decided to keep pressing the man. “You owe us an apology for this treatment. And that man who accosted us out on the trail. I want an apology from him, too.”
    Magnuson seemed to be on the verge of acceding to the demand when the tent flap opened and a fully outfitted soldier, with captain’s bars on the front of his body armor vest, rushed in. “Sir, something weird is happening out here.”
    King craned his head around to look through the opening. “Weird” didn’t begin to describe it. The ground outside the tent was covered in a carpet of mist, but it was no ordinary fog. The thick cloud of vapor shimmered like silver foil, and every few seconds, it flashed with discharges of static electricity. The mist crept in through the open flap, and King noted that it was also starting to seep in around the edges of the tent.
    Suddenly, the sound of gunfire and shouting, interspersed with a shrieking noise like something from hell itself, shattered the quiet.
    King dropped all pretense of indignation and turned to Pierce. “Okay, I didn’t expect that.”

     
     
    INTRUSION
     
     
     
    14.
     
    East of Phoenix, Arizona — 0907 UTC (2:07 am Local)
     
    For just a few moments, the heavy canvas fabric of the tent seemed like an impenetrable barrier, holding chaos at bay. The illusion was tested when something big crashed into its side, sending a ripple through the taut material that set the upright poles rocking back and forth.
    Magnuson turned to one of his subordinates. “Keep an eye on them,” he said, pointing to the still handcuffed trio. The officer had drawn an M9 Beretta from a holster on his hip. Something told King the 9-millimeter rounds from the pistol wouldn’t make much of a difference.
    The side of the tent snapped again and this time the inward bulge was not turned back by the durable material. Tension ropes snapped, or the pegs hammered into the ground to which they were attached were ripped free, and suddenly the tent seemed to fold in half.
    King saw what was about to happen and shouted a warning: “Get down!”
    He dropped to his knees and then half-rolled, half-fell onto his shoulder. He saw Pierce and Nina doing more or less the same, and then the roof caved in. The heavy fabric pinned him in place like it was weighted with sandbags. A few glimmers of light crept under the folds as some of the soldiers caught in the collapse struggled to get free, but King remained still and shouted for the others to do the same. Over the din of shots and screams, and the rustle of the tent’s destruction, King heard the noise of something heavy, like sledgehammer blows, pounding the ground with a very familiar rhythm.
    Footsteps, King realized. Someone running.Or something…something that weighs as much as an elephant. Make that a lot of somethings.
    The olive-drab shroud grew tight around him as the steps began falling directly on the collapsed tent. One of the footfalls came down right next to his head, sending out a tremor that rattled through his skull. If the thing stepped on him…stepped on any of them…it would break bones or do internal damage.
    The heavy steps moved away, sparing King, but he didn’t know the fate of the others. With deliberate slowness, he began worming his way toward where he thought Pierce was, hissing his friend’s name in a stage whisper.
    “King? I’m here.” It was Nina. He kept squirming forward until he felt his shoulder bump against her.
    “Is George with you?” It occurred to King that Pierce had never actually gotten around to introducing himself to the woman they had met on the trail, but she seemed like a quick study.
    “No. I lost track of him.”
    “Are you all right?” King kept the disappointment from his tone.
    “So far. This would be a lot easier if I could get my hands free.”
    “We’ll do something about that soon.” King oriented himself toward what he thought was the shortest route to freedom. “Follow me.”
    A few feet from where he