Free Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels by Anthony Decosmo Page A

smashed through the remains of a rusted pick up truck cluttering the intersection of Route 28 and tiny Dudley Road directly in front of a "Welcome to the Village of Blanchester" sign.
    "Captain Rothchild, what is your status?" Hoth radioed as he raised his binoculars.
    "We've breached the front line and are taking up final positions."
    Hoth confirmed her words with his eyes. Rothchild's column slowed their westward advance and pivoted to face south. At the same time, his column slowed and turned north. Between the two gathered a mass of Roach and Mortar bots, caught between two pincers on the wide open terrain of a dead field.
    "All guns, watch your crossfire, aim low and aim accurate," he radioed.
    If the enemy understood their predicament, it did not show. The Roachbots fired wildly—one could say crazily—with no regard for each other. Before the first human volley launched, Hoth watched a Mortarbot lob an explosive shell in the midst of three of its drone brethren and robotic Gatling guns tear apart two of their own number.
    Then the guns of the 2 nd Armored Division came to life. Abrams tank rounds, TOW missiles from atop Humvees, machine guns with armor piercing rounds, bazookas, and short-range artillery turned the mob of alien machines into a cloud of dirt, metal, fire, and smoke.
    As his brigades finished their work, the General organized an expedition to invest the Roachbot assembly line constructed nearby on the grounds of old Blanchester High School. A place known in human circles as a ‘slaughterhouse.’
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                Trevor's flight west included a refueling stop outside of Pittsburgh where he flew over the reincarnated steel mills. Smoke billowed from the foundries while convoys carried raw materials in and forged steel out.
                Stone knew that those mills operated thanks to Omar Nehru’s matter-makers. He also knew that the workers in those mills stamped the axles and girders and gun barrels keeping the armies on the march.
                However, those same workers only recently returned to the job after a three-week strike protesting the dropping value of their 'pay' in the face of rampant inflation. Trevor did not enjoy the irony that before the introduction of an official currency—as pushed by Evan Godfrey and others—those steel workers earned little more than food rations yet never felt so dissatisfied as to walk away from the mill.
                It felt to him as if the return of currency was yet another Pandora's Box from the old world. Certainly money would have its place again someday, he just wondered if humanity would be better served if such things from pre-Armageddon life did not return until after securing the survival of the species. Alas, money, politicians, unions, snake-oil salesmen, and accountants had escaped from their bottles.           
                Later that day, they landed at the crossroads town of Chillicothe, Ohio where Army Group North had established a supply depot supported by a railroad junction and airstrip.
                Trevor, the Rev, and Shepherd switched from Eagle to Blackhawk for the flight to Washington Court House. However, when word came that Hoth faced Roachbots, Trevor insisted on detouring to the battlefield.
                As they flew toward Blanchester, Trevor appreciated the change in rides. While the open door of the helicopter let in the bitter cold air, the sounds and smells of battle also came in.
                Trevor felt goose bumps when he heard the first cannon shot. He filled with exhilaration as he smelled the thick aroma of burning oil. Then came the blasted Roachbot carcasses, the impact craters and smoldering fields…yes, the maps and color-coded push pins of his office brought to life. The meaning behind it all.
                They flew over as the last Roachbots met their fate. Ahead on the athletic fields of a high