Chew was not alone in his loss. His friends, his former platoon mates, many of them had suffered losses of their own. They wanted to do something for the fight, but they were too old, too weak to bear arms and fight at the frontline. La Bella Vita gave them a semblance of dignity by offering them the chance to wield the massive guns again.
Chew and his friends loaded the guns and got into position.
Chew: How are you feeling today, my brothers.
Chew chuckle as he downed the bottle of Guinness stout he was sharing with his friends earlier. He lit up a cigarette and looked at the group of old men in position at the perimeter of the guns.
Chew: Just like the good old days, eh? Alert, always.
The men laughed. Some lit up cigarettes while others kissed the photos of the loved ones they had lost. They had nothing to lose. And they knew it.
When the SU-30s came by again, the Castle was ready to respond. The night air hung heavy with the scent of nostalgia and seasoned determination as two aging Oerlikon anti-aircraft guns barked defiance into the starlit sky. The veterans, weathered by time, but not broken in spirit, stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes reflecting the flickering muzzle flashes of the ancient weapons they manned.
As the first rounds were unleashed, the guns roared with a thunderous symphony of metal and fire, each discharge echoing a chapter of their storied past. The barrels, with a mechanical grace, swung towards the heavens, tracking the elusive dance of the modern fighter jets that streaked across the canvas of the night sky. The ejected shells tumbled to the ground, clattering against the steel deck like a chorus of rebellious percussion instruments. Each casing, a small but tangible reminder of a bygone era, glowed briefly in the dull light before joining the scattered debris of spent determination.
*
Hong, arriving at the gate of the house where the shooter was firing from the attic, could not help but cheer in triumph when the guns roared into the dark skies.
Hong: WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Hong shouted and whistled as the thump of the anti-aircraft weapons shook the estate ground, directing the shooter away from his presence.
Chew could only tell the general direction where the SU-30s were coming from and he directed the guns that way. There was no way to tell if he could hit anything. As the aging Oerlikons spat fire and fury, the jets retaliated with a deadly ballet of their own. The night was suddenly illuminated by the rapid streaks of autocannon fire, a malevolent constellation that sought out the defenders on the ground.
Kamal: Fuck!
Kamal dove towards Jackson and knocked him onto the ground just before they reached the cookhouse.
The jets strafed the air defence position with their 30-millimetre autocannons, a deadly rain of shells that cut through the veterans’ steadfast resolve. The veterans - or uncles in their sixties, high on Guinness stout - continued their relentless barrage even as the deafening roar of the guns struggled against the shriek of incoming ammunition.
The night became a chaotic blend of blinding flashes, acrid smoke, and the haunting echoes of lives dedicated to a cause. The Oerlikons, despite their age, belched defiance into the night. But the jets, swift and remorseless, closed in for the kill. The SU-30s strafed the estate twice, cutting a crude line across the garden and slicing into the Castle, shattering walls and windows of the sprawling structure.
Amidst the chaos, the veterans fell one by one, their bodies embracing the cold steel deck they had vowed to defend. Their valiant deaths were marked by the fading cadence of the Oerlikons, the guns now silenced by the sacrifice of those who manned them.
The veterans lay side by side, their bodies twisted and broken. Each man had a story, each one had a memory of a time when they were young and full of life. They might be old now, but their spirits remained undimmed, their courage unshaken. As they lay there with their eyes closed, they could still hear the faint echo of the guns, a melancholic symphony that reminded them of the price they had paid for their duty.
It was okay, Chew thought to himself as he drew his final breaths. There was no one left to mourn him, and he was looking forward to seeing his wife and daughter in the afterlife.
Kamal rolled off Jackson and the two men stared at the line of craters made by the shells spat out by the SU-30s, barely a metre away from their bodies. Jackson stared at the silent guns and the bodies by their sides. He questioned himself if he did the right thing by asking Uncle Chew and his friends to come to the Castle. It was like he had armed them with mere sticks and stones to go up against all-powerful beings. Their sacrifice had bought the Castle a short reprieve though. The jets were on their way back to their airfield to reload. Kamal pulled Jackson up, and barely a minute later, they were shooting through the dining halls at two parked SUVs with Chan’s men.
*
Hong and Antonio entered the house with a crew of La Bella Vita’s men. The owners of the house were killed and left by the kitchen. Decorative chandeliers were crushed, priceless paintings and antiques were shattered, and the plush carpets were stained with blood. Hong kept his weapon pointed at the upper levels while his crew cleared the basement and ground level. Antonio came over to his side and the two men got ready to move up to level two.
Antonio’s heart was pounding like a drum. His entire body trembling as he ascended the staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be a soldier in the heat of battle. He was expecting to do this with other soldiers - brothers who had each other’s backs. The last thing he expected was to serve alongside lawless gangsters. The creaking of the floorboards beneath their feet seemed to be the only sound in the world - apart from the rhythmic beating of their own hearts. Suddenly, Hong held onto the barrel of his rifle and stopped him.
Antonio: What?
Hong: Why the fuck is your rifle on safe?
Antonio: Because I’m not shooting…
Hong: You need to be ready to shoot.
Antonio: The rules of engagement state…
Hong: Fuck the rules.
Hong spat and forcibly switched Antonio’s rifle out from safe mode and shoved it back to him. Together with the team, they cleared each room on level two. Antonio couldn’t help but feel frustrated with Hong’s lack of adherence to close quarter combat protocols and positioning. It seemed as though he was just randomly pointing his weapon around the room without any real strategy. However, Antonio didn’t want to argue with him in the midst of their task to find the shooter.
Antonio hesitated at the bottom of the stairs that led to the attic. Hong nudged him in the side and he mistook it as a signal to keep going. In reality, Hong wanted him to stay back and let him proceed up the stairs first. Antonio went up the stairs and was immediately barrelled to the ground by one of Chan’s soldiers. The man was about to plunge the knife into Antonio’s face when he blocked the stab with his rifle. Twisting the weapon to the side to deflect the stab, Antonio swung the butt of his rifle into the attacker’s face, knocking him unconscious with a well-placed strike to the temple.
Upon hearing the commotion, another man emerged from the shadows at the end of the attic. Antonio was caught by surprise and he froze. He should have shot the man but he didn’t. Hong rushed forward and shoved him aside. He got off a single shot before his rifle jammed. The round ripped into the shooter’s torso, but not before man squeezed off a volley. The burst of rounds drew a line across Hong’s body, entering his right thigh, his stomach, and his lungs. Hong’s eyes widened in shock as he felt the passage of the bullets tearing through his body. He stumbled back, his weapon falling from his grasp when he clutched at his wounds.
Antonio: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOO!
Antonio screamed as he watched Hong fall. The next thing he knew, he was squeezing his sidearm into the shooter until he emptied the magazine. The bullets zipped through the air like lightning bolts, their trajectory taking a straight path towards the attacker’s face, body and legs. The shooter felt them slicing into his body as though a thousand tiny knives were plunging into his skin. He gasped and let out a choked cry, his eyes wide with shock and pain. The bullets entered his form with a sickening crack, tearing through muscle and bone with a force that left him shuddering. He felt the heat from the impact as blood and tissue were vaporised, leaving small smoking craters where his skin had once been.
Antonio’s eyes briefly fell upon the mass of human remains at the far end of the hallway before returning to Hong.
Antonio: Hong… HONG! HONG! I’m sorry… I’m sorry! HONG!
Hong’s blood poured onto the marble floor, a grim reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. His once crisp polo Tee-shirt was now stained with blood, the fabric clinging to his injuries. Hong was now barely clinging to life. His rugged face, once a symbol of strength and defiance, was now twisted in pain and despair. Each breath that rattled through his cracked, parched lips seemed to be his last. The wound in his right thigh gaped open, its edges frayed and stained with blood, as if it bore the marks of a wild, ravenous beast. The bullet that entered his stomach had carved a path of destruction through his viscera, the blood gushing forth, telling a horrifying tale of blunt force trauma. His lungs too were affected; ribs splintered and torn apart from the force of the impact.
Antonio: HONG! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Kamal! Dr Kamal!
Antonio screamed into the walkie-talkie, not knowing that Kamal and Jackson were in the middle of a firefight.
Antonio: Hong, I’m sorry I froze. I’m sorry!
Hong gasped for air as his lungs collapsed. He could feel the pain, but he also felt a sense of release. He wanted to tell Antonio that it was okay, but he couldn’t. As his eyes fluttered to a close, Hong thought he heard something familiar. Something that brought a smile to his face. The clicking of heels - heels worn by a beautiful woman. Antonio’s shouts became muted when Hong saw the beautiful pair of legs before him. He looking up to see his former employer looking at him with her arms folded. And standing beside her, were his departed friends.
Hong: Boss… Seven… Xiaoyu… you’re all here? Haha…
Antonio: HONG! Hang in there! The crew called for an ambulance already! HONG!
Several of La Bella Vita’s men were frozen in horror and shock at the sight of Jackson’s trusted lieutenant lying in a pool of his own blood.
Antonio: HONG!
Hong: I’m coming boss… I’m coming…
When Hong’s body suddenly went limp, Antonio froze in shock once more, his mind flashing back to the moment of his hesitation. It was all it took for Hong to lose his life. Antonio broke down and bawled, hammering his fist on the marbled flooring.
*
Jackson felt the pain in his injured shoulder each time the rifle recoiled. They were joined by Candy, who had put down her rifle and was aiming an RPG towards one of the SUVs. The rocket flew and slammed against the door of the vehicle, but it did not explode.
Candy: It’s a dud! Fuck!
She dropped the empty launcher and picked up her rifle. Jackson stopped shooting to take stock of the situation at the Castle. They were being attacked on many fronts, with the cookhouse taking the brunt of the attack. That was the same position Owen chose when he attacked the Castle a few years ago. The main gates were receiving sporadic small arms fire, but the shooting from the attic has stopped. Half a dozen of La Bella Vita’s men were engaged in a brawl with fists and knives in one of the perimeter houses. Then, the walkie-talkie fell from his hand when Jackson heard the news of Hong’s demise.
Jackson: No… NO! ARGHHHH! NO!
Jackson kicked the wall in rage, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He grabbed his rifle and pushed out of cover into the open.
Kamal: What the fuck?! Get him back in here!
Jackson’s rage boiled over, drowning out Kamal’s desperate pleas for caution. He tore along the perimeter of the cookhouse, exposed and vulnerable. Chan’s men were caught off-guard by this reckless display and they scrambled to react. With a single-minded determination, Jackson reached the two SUVs and began firing at point-blank range without any regard for his own safety.
Jackson: ARGHHHHHHHH!
As he pulled the trigger, he noticed that the interior of the vehicles was reinforced with metal panels - a makeshift armour for protection. But it was no match for Jackson’s unrelenting onslaught. He emptied his magazine, frantically reloading and firing again until there were only lifeless bodies left in his wake. He was panted breathlessly when Kamal reached his side.
Kamal too, had just received news of Hong’s demise from the command room. Kamal, with tears in his eyes, his weapon limp by his side, did the only thing that he could. He held onto Jackson who screamed into his chest. Candy came over as well, her eyes red with tears streaking down her cheeks. The three of them stood there, each one mourning the loss of their friend, their comrade, their brother-in-arms. The sound of the battle that raged around them was like a symphony of destruction, yet it seemed silent in comparison to the anguish that filled their hearts.
Kamal tried to pull himself together, to muster the strength to continue fighting, but his heart was heavy. He looked at Jackson and Candy, both of them distraught, and knew that they felt the same. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he spoke, his voice cracking with emotion.
Kamal: We’re not done… We can’t give up now. Hong would have wanted us to fight on. We have to keep going for him.
Jackson composed himself and reloaded his rifle, turning away to wipe the tears from his eyes. Candy, the only lady among them, needed more time to compose her emotions. Hong’s loss was too sudden and too much for her to take in. She took a few deep breaths, then she too steeled herself, looking to Jackson for the next course of action.
Jackson: We need to evacuate the Castle.
Candy: Why?
Jackson: Those planes are going to come back.
Kamal: Where do we go?
Jackson: Clear the cookhouse. We fall back to the shelter under the Castle and defend our position from there while we clear a path to the secondary site.
Jackson radioed everyone at the cookhouse to fall back to the main building. The remaining men at the perimeter buildings were to hold their position and report their status every 15 minutes.
*
The Science Teacher checked his phone as he observed the attack on the Castle. The SU-30s would be taking out the cookhouse on their next pass, and when that happened, he would launch an assault on the Castle with his students. He turned and checked on his partner, the Math Teacher, who was sedated and resting. The stiches on his cheeks were ugly and nasty, but it would have to do for now. Their targets were the kids that belonged to the key appointment holders in the Castle. If they could have them as leverage, the fight would be over in a matter of hours.
*
Private property, somewhere near the Botanic Gardens
Aadil and Hakim looked out from their basement shelter at the jets streaking past the neighbourhood. They felt the muffled shockwave of the payload going off near Ngee Ann Polytechnic. The sound of gunshots could be heard echoing in the distance. Aadil had no time to grieve for his late father. Together with Hakim and what was left of the Royal Guard, the men quietly loaded their magazines. Their weapons were kindly supplied by La Bella Vita.
Aadil: Who is this, Jackson?
Hakim: A contact, given by James. If we need anything, he’s the man to get it for us.
Aadil, the Crown Prince of Johor, put the magazine into his pistol and chambered a round.
Aadil: We need bigger guns.
Hakim: Sire, we should…
Aadil: Chan murdered my father!
Hakim: And he will murder you too if you give him the chance. Muthir has launched a coup and Razak is uncontactable. It’s not the time to be rash.
Aadil: What will you have me do? Hide here? Wait for Chan to come for us?
Hakim: We have a bunker here, we have supplies, weapons - we’re safe. My duty is to keep you safe. Let the armed forces deal with Chan for now.
Aadil: Your duty was to keep my father safe!
Hakim: My duty is to the Royal Family, my Prince.
Aadil regretted his outburst and lack of emotion. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken to Hakim in such a way.
Aadil: I’m sorry, Hakim. I…
Hakim: It’s okay. Get some rest. Leave these matters to us.
Aadil: No, there must be something we can do. Get in touch with this, Jackson.
*
Jackson touched Hong’s body. It was still warm to the touch. He tenderly squeezed Hong’s arm as the memories of their time together flooded his mind. He remembered the laughter, the shared adventures, the steamboat sessions they had together when he first came to the Castle as a gardener. He looked around at the faces of his remaining friends. They were all in the midst of their own pain and grief. Candy held back her tears, sobbing with stabs of shivers that shook her body. Cindy’s eyes were red and bloodshot, her fists clenched so tightly that the veins on her forearms were bulging. Antonio was on his knees - he blamed himself for what happened - while Kamal tried to tell him it was not his fault.
Jackson sent out a few messages just before his phone rang.
Jackson: Who is this?
Aadil: This is Aadil. I’m the Crown Prince of Johor. Are you Jackson?
Jackson: Yes, I am.
Aadil: Thank you for the pistols and ammunition you supplied us. I am aware how difficult it is to get things like this in the country.
Jackson: You’re welcome, sir.
Aadil: Jackson, my men and I… we want to do something. We can help, in any way possible. I understand from Colonel James that we are not too far from your location.
Jackson looked at the people in the room, and then towards the direction where the kids were sheltered.
Jackson: There is something that I might need your help with, sir.
…
Maxwell Train Station
D-Hour +3
The group barely had time to catch a breather when more of Chan’s men arrived. Shots were exchanged and while the initial attempt by the soldiers was stopped, Chan’s commanders changed tactics. Instead of sending soldiers, they sent men who were obviously high on drugs.
A horde of seemingly possessed individuals, screamed, laughed and cheered as they ran through the doorway. Their eyes were wide and glassy, reflecting a manic intensity that seemed to pierce through the dimly lit atmosphere of the Maxwell train station. Their dilated pupils were like blackholes, swallowing any remnants of sanity or reason. Sweat poured down their foreheads, creating rivulets that mingled with the dust and grime of the abandoned station. Their movements were erratic, limbs flailing in unnatural angles as they charged towards the defenders.
They emitted guttural cries, a discordant symphony of madness that echoed off the walls and reverberated through the air. Most of them were young impressionable men that Chan picked up across in Malaysia. They were idealistic, easy to manipulate, and it took little to get them hooked on drugs.
Using the charge of the dozen or so crazies to draw Ron’s gunfire, the soldiers formed up behind the charge and fought their way towards Ron and his men. The sacrifice was worth it if they could get the ultimate price to end the fight - the Prime Minister of Singapore.
Javen: Get the dogs back!
Alden whistled and all the dogs growled and retreated, upset that they were being called back from the attack. The gunfire was too intense to risk them being caught up at a bad time. Bullets were tearing through the air from both sides, leaving scorched trails behind them. Once again, the station was quickly transformed into a deadly battleground. The crazed attackers had no sense of self-preservation. They howled with deranged laughter, deliberately exposing themselves to gunfire while they fired their weapons wildly. Ron and his men desperately tried to hold their ground against the onslaught. Their shots were well-placed, but it was difficult to go up against the drug-induced frenzy that plagued their enemies.
Welly: What the fuck is wrong with them?
Ron replied with a single word as he emptied his pistol before reloading it with a fresh clip.
Ron: Drugs…
Luckily for Welly, help had arrived from the rear. A section of commandoes fought their way down from the station entrance, taking Chan’s men off-guard. They picked off the commanding officer near the faregates and began sweeping up the rest of the men.
Ron received news of help’s arrival and he shouted for everyone to get down.
Ron: Help is here! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!
Everyone huddled behind cover as the commandoes sent a hail of bullets into the attackers from behind. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire as bullets sliced through the chaos, cutting down the attackers like a scythe through wheat. The station shook with the force of the battle, the walls reverberating with the cries of pain and terror. Blood splattered across the grimy tiles as lifeless bodies fell to the ground in a macabre dance.
The commandoes quickly secured the perimeter, but there was no time to bask in the small victory.
There were another two companies of Chan’s soldiers heading towards Maxwell train station from Anson Road after landing at Tanjong Pagar terminal. Another platoon of guardsmen was fighting their way down from Smith Street. They were held up by heavy resistance from a group holed up near the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple. Chan’s men were raiding the temple for valuables when they encountered the guardsmen. There was also the issue of a company of reservist men scattered in Raffles place. Their commanding officer was trying to establish contact after they fended off attacks from all directions in the CBD.
Ron: We cannot stay here. We need to move. The next safe zone is about a four-kilometre walk.
Javen forced opened the doors to the train tracks and the dogs were the first to jump in. They sniffed the air and wagged their tails eagerly. He turned and helped Ron onto the tracks and the rest of the men followed. Alden and Pup hung back to bring up the rear after Welly and his remaining bodyguards jumped into the tunnel. Ron and his men lead the retreat through the tunnels, heading towards Great World train station. From there, they would make their way to the next central ops command.
The commandos closed the track doors just as the sound of gunfire drew close to the train station entrance. They were going to hold the rear and buy time for the Prime Minister to get the safety. The moment Welly and the men started their retreat, the section commander and his men set up explosive charges and restacked sandbags in a defensive position. They took up positions with their guns pointing at the doorway that led to the streets above.
Welly panted as he trotted along the tracks at a brisk walking pace. With each step he took, he felt the pain more intensely. He tried to hold it in, but it was eventually too much for him to bear. With a grunt, he collapsed onto the tracks before his bodyguards could react. The men quickly came over to check on Welly, and that was when Ron saw that Welly had been shot. It was a stray round that his armour did not catch.
Ron: Fuck…
The men remained silent, waiting as Ron deliberated what to do.
Ron: We’re detouring to Singapore General Hospital. We’ll get there via Outram station exit. I’m getting all available troops to help clear the route.
*
Colonel James, enroute towards Maxwell
D-Hour +3
There was nothing James and his team could do for the Castle - not from where they were. They were on their way to link up with Ron and Welly, who were retreating from the train station via the tracks. James received news that Welly had been shot and they were now heading towards the hospital.
James: Fuck…
Boon: What is it?
James paused for a moment to draw the edge of his combat knife across the throat of a soldier sprawled on the floor of the old Tanjong Pagar railway station. The man was trying to reach his radio. He turned back to Boon and replied,
James: Welly’s shot. It’s not life threatening, but they still need to treat the wound. Mount up, we’re heading to the hospital to link up with Welly.
*
RAAF Base Pearce, Perth, Australia
D-Hour +5
Air Commodore Paul Matthew looked at his secretary, Sandra, and the obviously fake orders she had prepared. She looked nervous, and even without his reading glasses, he could tell the signature on the order was not given by General Court.
Paul: Sandra…
Sandra: Sir… the order came through. You must let the men return home. Their poor country is under attack. Can you imagine how they must be feeling now? They have the tools to try and save their country, but they are being held up here… by… by government red tape.
Paul massaged the ridge of his nose and looked at the secretary who had served alongside him for close to a decade.
Paul: This is very distressing. I don’t know if you are gambling on my intelligence or my poor eyesight…
Sandra took a second to compose herself before replying,
Sandra: I’m gambling on your empathy, sir…
Paul folded the orders and looked at Sandra. She was nervously playing with her fingers in front of her chest.
Paul: I know you are dating that pilot, but has it ever occurred to you that he might be using you?
Sandra: If the man that I’m dating is willing to risk our relationship… for his country…
Paul looked up from the file and at Sandra, who was shaking at the edge of his desk.
Sandra: Then I’m darned sure I chose the right man!
Paul sighed and sat up from his chair. He wanted to talk Sandra out of doing something stupid, but she did not give him the chance to.
Sandra: What if this were to happen to us? Is there nothing you would do to go home and protect your loved ones? What if you were out for deployment, sir? Is there nothing you would do to come home?
Paul: The things we do for love, Sandra…
Paul could see the colour draining from Sandra’s face when he crushed the order and threw it into the bin.
Paul: This would have ended your career, gotten you a court martial, and thrown into jail, Sandra.
Sandra: If going to jail means giving these people a fighting chance, then I’m willing to do it.
Paul: Orders were given right from the top. The Singaporean pilots are not to be allowed anywhere near their planes. You know that…
Sandra: But…
Paul: No buts…
Sandra was about to walk out of Paul’s office when he stopped her.
Paul: However, having those planes sitting on the apron is a safety hazard to all service men and women in this base… I want the jets… to be removed from the runway… and stored in hanger 15B.
Sandra’s immediately did a doubletake at her superior. Her eyes lit up and widened when she realised his unspoken intention.
Sandra: You… you’re allowing the pilots to…
Paul: I am authorising them to get into their jets and park them away at the furthest hanger at the end of the runway. Do I make myself clear?
Sandra: YES SIR! Thank you, sir!
Sandra ran out of the office, eager to share the news with her boyfriend.
Paul looked out of his window at the six jets sitting on the side of the runway. His aunt had retired in Singapore and she insisted on staying despite the warnings by the government to evacuate. She loved the country, and having visited her several times over the years, he could see the allure. It was a vibrant city, filled with life. The intelligence reports he was receiving painted a grim picture for the city-state. Analysts were divided whether Singapore would be able to hold her ground - half of them were certain she would fall within days. Their water supply had been cut, and if the desalination plants were to fall, it was game over for the country. The enemy was making a grab for key installations. With power plants and telecommunications infrastructure being disrupted, the odds were not looking too good in Singapore’s favour.
Five minutes later, Paul was smoking his pipe while he watched the Singaporean pilots running towards their jets. Their technicians were readying the birds to move, removing the wheel chokes and red tags before take-off. And it was not long before Paul’s desk phone rang. It was from the air traffic controllers; they wanted to know if the jets were authorised to take-off.
Loo: Sir, we have our planes scheduled to land in a few minutes. Do I divert them for the Singaporean pilots?
Paul: You didn’t reach me, son. You understand what I’m saying? Do what your procedure dictates.
Sergeant Loo immediately understood his superior’s reply.
Loo: Hello… hello… anybody there? Hello…?
Then he hung up.
As far as Paul was concerned, he only gave permission for the pilots to get into their jets and park them in the hanger. Once the jets were up in the air, they would take up to five minutes to accelerate up to Mach 2. In 10 minutes or so, they would be out of Australian airspace and beyond his control.
The cockpits of the F16s were places of raw energy and controlled chaos. As the engines roared to life, a rush of adrenaline coursed through LTC Alvin’s veins. The deafening noise enveloped him, drowning out all other sounds, as if the world had shrunk to this singular moment.
All six F16s, sleek and powerful, were lined up on the runway, their engines roaring to life with a thunderous intensity. The air surged with anticipation and it was as if the very earth trembled beneath them. He glanced at the heads-up display where vital information like speed, altitude, and fuel levels were projected onto the transparent visor before his eyes. The numbers and symbols danced before him, but Alvin’s focus remained unwavering. His mind was set on one thing: getting home.
Alvin saluted the ground crew as he positioned his aircraft for take-off. He looked beside the altimeter at the photo of his wife carrying their two-month-old daughter, and then towards the horizon ahead. Bob turned to look at Sandra in the distance. She was hugging her body and looking towards his jet from within her office. Sandra blew Bob a kiss, unsure if he could actually see it. Baoyuan touched the picture of his aged parents, both of them smiling while holding hands on their wheelchairs. Cass kissed the silver cross she wore around her neck and then glanced at the picture at her sole surviving blood relative - her younger brother who work as a hawker.
The picture was taken a year ago before her deployment. She had her arm around his shoulder at his hawker stall where he made a living selling peanut pancakes. Leroy kissed the picture of his deceased children and wife before sticking it in a prominent position in the cockpit. Family he could not bury.
Leroy: Daddy’s coming home, baby… daddy’s coming home.
One by one, the pilots began their take-off run, the tires screeching and the wings lifting as their speed increased. As the runway lights streaked past his cockpit, Alvin pushed the throttle forward, feeling response of the immense power of the jet. The G-force pressed him back into his seat as the F16 lifted off the ground, gracefully soaring into the night sky. In his peripheral vision, he could see his fellow Singaporean pilots following suit, their jets joining him in a synchronised formation. The sense of camaraderie and purpose surged within Alvin’s chest. They were not just flying back home; they were flying to defend their country.
As the jets roared up into the air, Paul gave the men and woman on board the jets a final salute.
Paul: Godspeed, Alvin… everyone at home is waiting.
*
Pulau Tekong
D-Hour +5
Jim handed the last of his water to Mohan, who drank a mouthful of it before passing to Rizwan. That was all the water they had left. The air was thick and heavy with humidity, weighing down on their bodies like a blanket of sultry heat, sapping their energy with every step they took. Their clothes clung tightly to their bodies and mosquitoes buzzed around their ears. The camouflage cream on their faces and necks had begun to wear off, the shades of green now blended with smudges of black.
Mohan checked the map and told the guys they should be reaching the abandoned village soon. There was an old well there where they could get water from. The mechanical buzzing of drones prompted the men to stop moving and immediately seek cover under the foliage of a large tree with low dipping branches. Pressing their bodies against the tree, they disturbed a nest of red ants. They came out from their hanging nest, spreading out in all directions, with many of them crawling onto the men’s bodies.
Jim bit down on his teeth when his exposed skin was stung several times. Mohan had it worse because the disturbed nest was pressed right against his chest. The moment the drones were gone, all three men were jumping up and down, whacking, swatting, and trying to get the stinging ants off their tired bodies.
Mohan: Fuck… fuck this… fuck!
Jim: Arghhh! Fucking ants…
Amidst a multitude of curses, they made their way towards the abandoned village. The buildings had white tape encircling them and warning signs indicating that the structures were no longer safe were plastered all over the village.
Mohan dashed out of cover and headed straight towards the sealed up well.
Jim: Mohan!
Mohan: I can’t take this shit anymore… The fucking ants are still all over my body.
The rusted metal cover along with the old lock might looked aged and weak, but it was impossible to remove. Mohan hit it several times with his rifle butt and it refused to budge.
Jim: Mohan, calm down! You’re making too much noise!
Rizwan called the guys over to the far side of the abandoned village. There was a small stream cutting through the back that led to a pond the size of a badminton court. Mohan, long tormented by the stinging ants, could not care anymore and, much to Rizwan and Jim’s objections, he dove head first into the water.
Mohan: You guys need to do this… The water is cooling and there’re fish in here. It’s clean.
As much as the two of them wanted to jump into the water for a much-needed break, someone needed to stay alert and keep watch.
Jim: Riz, you go ahead. I’ll keep an eye first. We do five minutes, then we need to keep moving? All agreeable?
The guys nodded and took turns at having a refreshing dip. They took the opportunity to refill their water bottles from the running stream.
Rizwan: You think we will get food poisoning with this?
Mohan: Look at the shit we are in and you are worried about food poisoning?
They checked out the map and plotted their rough location.
Jim: We have no food and we’re not going to last out here. We have to make our way back either to the schools, or try to swim across back to the mainland.
Rizwan: Not in bright daylight
Mohan: I agree.
Jim: Someone might come to the village. We’ll get out of here, find a spot and wait for nightfall.
The trio geared up, reapplied the camo cream to their faces, and headed back into the safety of the jungle.
*
Fountain of Wealth, Suntec City
D-Hour +5
A company of Chan’s soldiers put down their weapons and equipment in front of the deserted food court. They had battled their way from the coast, achieving a swift victory against a company of NSmen who scattered and ran once their commanding officer was killed in action. The soldiers were granted a few hours to rest before continuing on. They had already endured a long drive from Malaysia and were awake for over 20 hours straight.
The soldiers leaped over the food counters and rummaged through the refrigerators, searching for sustenance. They pried open cake displays and passed around pastries. From expensive salted egg fish skin to flavoured popcorns costing over 10 dollars a packet, everything was taken by the soldiers to satisfy their hunger. They lounged with their boots up on the tables, talking loudly and laughing while snacking on food. Much to the amusement of the others, a couple of soldiers even fired up the wok inside one of the stalls and started cooking.
More soldiers were filing into the mall with their equipment in tow. A handful of armoured personnel carriers, most of which stolen from Malaysian army camps, had pulled up at the roundabout surrounding the fountain. It was only five hours into the invasion and Chan’s forces had already made significant headway into the country. Once they took care of the defending troops at key checkpoints, it was smooth sailing as they pushed ahead. Due to sabotage and the lack of any operational naval vessels, the southern approach was relatively uncontested. However, Chan’s men were unable to secure any high ground in Singapore from the heavy encampments of defending troops within those regions.
As Chan’s forces pushed inland, residents who remained at home were at the mercy of the invaders. The soldiers pillaged and razed many blocks of flats and private condominiums. Children were rounded up in makeshift cages while the husbands were forced to watch their wives and daughter being raped by the soldiers. Those who locked and sealed themselves at home, died in a fiery blaze when the soldiers burned the houses they could not gain access to.
The lucky ones escaped unscathed, many watching the convoys of hostiles marching right past their flats. Whether the estate stayed safe or not, was entirely up to the whims and fancies of the commanding officer.
Gunfire could be heard at every neighbourhood. Banks were raided and the vaults blown apart by military grade explosives. The alarms rang non-stop, but no one came. The police and military were all occupied. Fire engines were being deployed all over the island to put out the fires. In every neighbourhood and every street, there was someone who needed help. The phone lines were ringing off the hook, but there just wasn’t enough resources to go around.
Chan had given instructions for all government offices, from the parliament building to the HDB headquarters, to be seized and secured. Poh Koon’s men would focus on taking key infrastructure, while Rafi’s troops would be taking the offices. The troops were to spread out and take positions all over the island. While they were successful in penetrating inland, they met with heavy resistance particularly in the northwest and eastern sides of the country. The resistance by Singapore only further motivated Chan’s men to fight. They had seen the riches the country had to offer, and they wanted their share. Not just material riches, but the women too. Dozens of videos depicting Singaporean women being raped by soldiers were already uploaded into the internet.
Aside from some verbal condemnation of the atrocities committed by Chan’s forces, no one gave a fuck about what was happening in Singapore. Seven hundred and thirty-four square kilometres of land was nothing - at least compared to what was happening on the global stage. China was massing her troops at the east, facing Taiwan, with a US carrier strike group loitering nearby. Russia had decided to make a push for Kiev with another round of offensive strikes. The fight in Gaza had spread, and neighbouring countries - Egypt, Yemen, Iran and Turkey - were being drawn into the conflict. The world had more pressing concerns to deal with.
*
Jeff, Xia, and Nikka remained motionless at the stairwell of Suntec City Tower Two. They were in between level two and three. Nikka had his pistol covering the front while Jeff had the rear. Just a few metres away from them was the door that led to the mall. They could hear soldiers speaking loudly outside. They barely made it into the stairwell and shut the door when the group of soldiers gathered near the shop just outside. The soldiers raided the popcorn shop, feasting on the sweet snack while lighting up a few cigarettes. As the smell of cigarettes spread into the stairwell, Jeff gestured for the group to move quietly upwards and not to fire their weapons unless absolutely necessary. They were in the middle of the hornet’s nest and stirring it up could mean having to face an entire army of troops.
They had made their way up level six when the door to the stairwell suddenly opened, bringing the men face to face with five of Chan’s soldiers. Nikka moved first, dropping his pistol and drawing his katana in a tightly controlled arc that opened up the neck of the man right in front of him. The soldier clutched onto his blood spewing throat and fell right on top of Nikka, restricting the effectiveness of his weapon. The rest of the soldiers were scrambling to get their weapons when Xia reached forward and grabbed two of them by their ankles, yanking them towards him and causing them to tumble down the flight of stairs.
Jeff, who was at the rear, sent a blade into the left eye of the first soldier Xia tripped. He twisted it, almost wrenching out the eyeball along with his blade, and sent it back into the man’s neck. Xia had the other soldier he tripped in a chokehold and they tumbled down the stairs to level five. He choked him hard and the poor sod lost consciousness in less than a minute. Three against five would be over in a matter of seconds, but when the other soldiers raised their rifles, everything moved so fast that there was barely anytime for anyone to react.
Jeff saw the end of a rifle muzzle when he ran up to engage the closest soldier. He was baptised by a violent spray of blood that thankfully did not belong to him. A kris was stabbed right into the trigger guard, blocking the trigger pull. Johari had his palm around the chin of the unfortunate soldier as he pulled out the kris and sent it into the man’s neck. By the time the soldier realised that blood was filling up his lungs from his opened throat, he was left facedown at the bottom of the stairs. However, the violent spray of blood was not caused by Johari. The Butcher had cleaved his massive blade into the skull of the other soldier. His meat hook ripped the rifle out of the dead man’s hands as he wrenched his cleaver free.
The commotion attracted the attention of the other group of smoking soldiers a few levels below. Three soldiers ran up the stairs, shouting in their native tongue, demanding to know what was happening. Unfortunately for them, they rushed in with cigarettes in hand instead of their weapons. Xia leapt across the railing, crashing into the first curious soldier. Jeff joined Xia, jumping over the railing to deliver a knee strike to the second man. The last soldier tried to run, but Johari had leapt down the stairs like an expert parkour athlete to engage him. He bulldozed the soldier away from the door and headbutt him against the painted exit sign in the stairwell.
Xia swept and tripped the first soldier onto the ground, then drove a steel tipped spear under the man’s chin and impaled his tongue to the top of his mouth. Jeff landed badly, losing his footing on the steps and falling forward, exposing his back to the second soldier who was waving a small hand axe wildly in front of him. The sharp tip of the axe sliced through his Kevlar suit and dug into his back when the soldier bore down on him in a two-handed blow.
Jeff: Arghh!
Jeff felt the cold kiss of metal meeting his flesh, and the pain numbed him for a brief instant. He regained his balance and delivered a rapid succession of jabs to his opponent - striking under the armpit, in the stomach, and behind the knees - before he delivered a final blow to the kidney. He sent his blade into the man’s throat for good measure, spilling his blood down the staircase. It was only when Jeff straightened himself that he felt the true extent of the wound.
Jeff: Argh… fuck…
Xia: Hibiki’s hit… get him out.
Jeff: I’m fine! I’m fine!
Nikka and the Butcher immediately grabbed Jeff and dragged him back up the stairs. Johari finished off his opponent with a series of swift and precise Silat moves, opening up both of his wrists and delivering a final cut to his neck. It was a whirlwind of movement that ultimately sealed the soldier’s fate. Xia made sure everyone on the ground had stopped breathing or was well on their way to becoming a corpse, before he and Johari brought up the rear. The group quickly retreated up to level six.
Johari: We got to keep moving up!
As soon as Johari said that, the door to the roof garden on level six opened. Three more of Chan’s soldiers wandered into the stairwell with the last of their smokes still blowing out of their nostrils. Nikka and the Butcher’s hands were occupied by supporting Jeff, and they did not have time to draw their weapons. Jeff pushed both of them back, using the momentum to launch forward a push kick. He landed it squarely on the chest of the soldier in the middle.
Without missing a beat, he had his left arm up with his elbow pointing forward to block a strike from the soldier on the left. Jeff’s right elbow found its target to the right, striking into the nose of the last man who entered the stairwell. Jeff bulldozed his body against the last soldier before throwing him backwards towards the Butcher. Then he sent another kick to the one down on the ground, turning back in time to block a downward stab from the soldier on the left.
Nikka swung his sword up in a diagonal slash and sliced into the buttocks of the man trying to stab Jeff. When the soldier screamed in pain and instinctively reached for his wound with his right hand, Nikka drew his blade up, wanting to sever the arm, but the Butcher had moved forward, restricting the downward arc of his sword. Nikka cursed and instead stabbed the sword through the opening between the Butcher’s arm and his body, drawing the cutting edge down, meeting flesh and narrowly avoiding slicing into the Butcher’s side.
The last standing soldier swung his shouldered rifle at the Butcher. The Butcher blocked it with his left arm, but the badly positioned block knocked his already injured finger out of the socket. The Butcher dropped his meat hook and blocked another swing of the rifle butt with his cleaver. Ignoring the pain and using only four working fingers, the Butcher grabbed the poor sod by his neck, sinking his fingers into the tender flesh, before a diagonal placement of his cleaver against the man’s skull sent a spray of blood towards Nikka and the man he just dispatched.
Everything happened so fast that it was all over before Xia and Johari could come forward to help.
After the Butcher stomped in the face of the last soldier on the ground, everyone froze and stared at the door to the roof garden, wondering if more soldiers would come through. The stairwell was silent except for the heavy breathing of the men, their adrenaline still coursing through their veins. The weight of the unexpected melee in such a narrow space began to etch itself into the walls of the building. The acrid smell of spilled blood filled the narrow stairwell, growing heavier with every passing moment.
Jeff glanced at his other companions who got separated an hour earlier when they arrived at Suntec City. Johari and the Butcher were cut off from the group when they were shot at while making their way into the mall.
Jeff: Good to see you, bro.
Johari: You look like shit.
Both Johari and Barry the Butcher had seen better days. Johari’s Kevlar suit was caked in blood, staining it a dark crimson hue. Barry’s Kevlar suit was also covered in blood splatter, but there was something more unsettling about his appearance. Strands of human hair stuck to his armour, making it seem as if, even in death, the enemies he faced were trying to hold onto him.
Jeff: We all look like shit.
Barry: What now?
Jeff: Let’s head up. The mall is crawling with them.
Xia: We need to block the doors.
The bodies of the dead soldiers were piled up against the door that opened inwards to level six. Johari left bloodied footprints and marks to indicate whoever did the killing went out of the mall at level four and five. After they were done, the group made their way up to the upper levels, checking several offices before breaking into a small accounting firm. They spread out and drew all the blinds before they ransacked the place for anything they could use.
Barry put down his cleaver and used some wet tissues from a desk to try and clean up the caked blood on the grip. He shook his meat hook and bits of hair and human skin fell off and lodged themselves into the carpeted floor. Johari went to the washroom to wash his face before retreating to a corner of the office where he found a clean spot to do his prayers.
Jeff bit down on a leather belt while Xia sewed up the 10-centimetre cut on his back. The cut had ripped open in the last fight, a jagged tear in the flesh with blood still oozing from it. Jeff winced as the needle pricked his skin, his breath catching in his throat. He was no stranger to pain, but this time it hit him hard and made him realise the gravity of the situation - he was getting old and clumsy.
Jeff: This shouldn’t have happened.
Xia: You think what? You are Ironman? We’re all made of flesh and blood.
Jeff: We should be in the temporary command post at City Hall by now…
Xia: Well, war doesn’t go exactly to plan, does it?
Jeff looked down from the office tower to the soldiers filing into the development. It was almost midday and he was exhausted, having spent hours fighting his way from the Marina Barrage, all the way inland to Suntec City. They were encircled by troops when they cut through the development. The only way to get past was to cut through the mall for cover. He lost count of the cuts, the scrapes and the bruises he sustained within the past few hours. Most of them were minor wounds, thanks to his Kevlar suit, but the cut on his back went deeper than expected.
Xia: The bleeding has stopped for now, but I think you’re done. We all need to rest. My ribs are really sore, but I don’t think I broke anything yet.
Jeff: I’m not stopping just because of a cut.
Xia: That’s not just a cut. He swung an axe at you and you’re lucky it didn’t break any bones.
Nikka came out of the office pantry with a case of mineral water.
Nikka: There’s water and biscuits. I can’t find anything else, not even coffee. Why couldn’t we break into the office of an MNC? Their pantry will be better stocked.
Xia: They have better security systems and louder alarms.
Nikka: Alarms are going off all over the country. What’s one more?
Jeff: We have a few companies of soldiers on the ground floor, Nikka. Calm down.
Nikka sighed and nodded. He was eager to clock more kills, already having seven notches on his sword, including those at the staircase, since it started.
Nikka: I’ll do inventory of what we have.
Nikka effortlessly hopped onto a meeting table. Being the youngest in the group, he was still full of energy. He pulled out his pistol and removed the magazine to do a tally of the rounds. Xia handed him a heavy sling bag with a few magazines along with loose rounds.
Barry: I’m out. I lost my pistol.
Johari: I have a full mag in mine, and that’s it.
Nikka: Okay, aside from our blades, there are only four full magazines between us. I’ve got five rounds in mine. How about you guys?
Jeff: I’m out.
Jeff removed the empty magazine from his pistol and Nikka threw him a fresh clip.
Xia: I’m down to my last full clip. We’ll find more at night.
Jeff: It’s daylight, so we’ll wait for night before we move again. Let the rest of our boys fight during the day. Some of their men are already resting. You can see them sleeping from up here.
Xia: Any word from Welly?
Jeff: No… He went missing after the command centre was attacked. He should be laying low.
Xia: What if they got him?
Jeff: Then it will be all over the airwaves and news. Chan will not hesitate to use that as a tool for everyone to put down their weapons.
Nikka: So, what do we do now?
Jeff: Rest, Nikka. Rest.
Xia: We’ll hunt at night… I’ll take first watch and we rotate every two hours. Jeff, you go get some rest first. Jo, Barry, you guys hurt?
Johari: Cuts… bruises… Barry might have a broken finger. I can’t seem to pop it back.
Barry held up his left hand and showed everyone his mangled little finger.
Barry: I’ll live. Probably a bone chipped and got in the socket.
Nikka wiped his blade with a towel and asked,
Nikka: What if they come up?
There was a brief moment of silence before Johari replied.
Johari: Then, I’ll feel sorry for those that did.
The guys laughed and sipped their water.
Xia positioned himself by the reception and kept an eye on the corridor and lift lobby via the CCTV. They were 30 levels up on Tower Two, and there was no telling if the soldiers would clear each level of the commercial tower if they found the bodies in the stairwell.
Xia took out his phone and saw the voice messages left on his app. It was from his son, Xavier. Xia’s trembling hands clicked play on each message, the playback of his son’s voice slicing through his heart like a jagged knife.
“Papa… planes came to the castle. It’s very scary. Where are you?”
“Papa, the planes are very loud. I’m scared.”
“Papa, what time are you coming back?”
The weight of the words crushed down on him, suffocating him with unbearable pain. As much as he wished he could be back with his son - he couldn’t. He was caught in a cruel dilemma - a sorrowful dilemma of choosing duty over family. He had the option to remain safe in the castle, but when he saw his brothers risking their lives on the frontline, he realised that he could serve a greater purpose by being there with them. And there was no way he was going to miss having a front row seat to the fight.
Xia composed his emotions and sent his son a voice message.
Xia: Xavier… everything okay? Don’t run around the place without telling anyone, you hear me? Stay close to everyone. Stay close to your friends. Take care of each other. I’m also staying close to my friends. We will all come back soon, okay?
He paused and took a deep breath.
Xia: Papa will be back soon, okay? Stay strong, okay? Papa will be with you soon.
Xia shut down his phone, partly to conserve power, but also to stop his mind from straying. He needed to get his head in the game if they were to survive this.
Johari joined Nikka and snacked on biscuits while Barry wiped his face with a damp towel. As he wiped the dried blood splatter off his face, the grey towel quickly turned a deep crimson. Barry had lost count of the number of men he killed. After a while, the numbers just didn’t matter anymore. He cleaned his hands and reached for the phone he sealed in a Ziploc bag. The phone was in pink, a colour unthinkable for someone nicknamed the Butcher. Barry was known for his brutality and violent tendencies, so it was difficult to imagine him with something that was usually associated with sweetness and cuteness. The phone was a gift from a friend - a special friend - a woman - the former head of La Bella Vita, Yiling.
Barry was recruited by Ron many years ago, and was placed under Owen’s purview. Barry didn’t care much about oaths, honour or loyalty. He just enjoyed snuffing the life out of fuckers. Given his character, he was usually alone and kept to himself. That was until Yiling came into his life. She was one irritating bugger, Barry thought as he looked at that pink phone. She nagged at him so often that he called her his grandma. Not that one could blame Yiling for nagging - she was the only one who could always get Barry out of trouble.
From being arrested, to getting caught with contraband, to getting into trouble overseas - help from Yiling was always a phone call away.
Yiling was a lively spirit, always full of energy and determination. Even when Barry was at his most gruff and unapproachable, she somehow managed to bring out the softer side of him - something that had all but been lost in the chaos and violence of his everyday life. Yiling was like a younger sister to Barry, someone he could rely on and trust implicitly. And in turn, she brought out a glimmer of the man he truly was beneath his brutal exterior. She filled a void in his life, but as attractive as she might be as a woman, Barry never had any romantic interest in her. She was too naggy, too irritating - like a mosquito who was always buzzing by his ears.
Barry opened the photo gallery and looked at the album of pictures. He owed Yiling a debt that he never thought he would have. She helped him find the woman who had a child out of wedlock with him - Sandra, a woman Barry thought he would never see again after a short trip to Malaysia. It was just a fling and Barry never had much feelings for Sandra. She was a nice girl, and he was on a break and needed a fuck after a few beers. He never expected to hit the jackpot through. He thought Sandra was a working girl, but it turned out that she was not. Sandra gave birth to a boy and subsequently give him up for adoption. Barry had trouble believing it until Yiling brought the boy back to Singapore. She did all the paperwork and proved with a DNA test to Barry that Brad was his flesh and blood.
Truth be told, Barry didn’t need a DNA test. He could tell the boy was his the moment he laid eyes on him. There was something about Brad that resonated deep within Barry’s soul, like a forgotten melody that had finally found its way back to him. He saw the same fierce determination and mischievous glint being reflected in the eyes of the boy. For the first time in years, Barry felt a sense of belonging and love that transcended the brutality and violence he had come to know. Brad was not just a son, but an anchor that held him steady amidst the tumultuous storm of his life.
That same pink phone held all of Brad’s photos and videos. Not one to leave voice messages, Barry sent his son a series of texts, reminding him to train his body and mind. Brad might be only 10 years old, but he was expected to do 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups a day. Barry had also started him on the bags. He scrolled through some pictures and kept the phone back into the Ziploc. They called him the Butcher, a nickname for a violent giant, but it was a name he didn’t want his son to inherit. He wanted to steer Brad away from such a life and give him a chance to grow up normally.
A packet of crackers flew towards him and he caught it instinctively, stopping the snack mere inches from his face. Jeff threw a bottle of water his way and he caught it effortlessly as well. Hibiki and he were the only two left that served Owen before Ron took over. Xia and Johari were from a different branch and did not have as much exposure as they did. Nikka was still a young trainee back then. Barry didn’t speak of the past with Hibiki. They were allies, but without a common topic.
Jeff bit down on his teeth and tried to fight back the pain in his back. He tried sitting back on a reclining chair to catch a quick snooze. He took out his phone for the first time since the invasion began and checked for new messages.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw the notification that the Castle was attacked by fighter jets. He immediately called his wife, Jane. Each ring that went unanswered made him nervous. Jeff’s fingers tapped restlessly on the screen of his phone when the background went dark, the plastic case creaking with each touch, conveying the tension in his body. He was holding his breath, but could finally breathe when Jane answered his call.
Jane: Where are you? Are you okay? What took you so long to call?
Jeff: I’m okay. I’m fine.
Jane: Are you hurt?
Jeff hesitated before he replied with a no.
Jane: Don’t you fucking lie to me, Jeff! I can tell when you are lying!
Jeff: Okay, fine. It was a cut.
Jane: How bad?
Jeff: Xia sewed it up. It was an accident.
Jane: What kind of an accident?
Jeff: Dear, I’m fine. What about you and Lynette? What is the situation at the Castle?
Jane: We were under attack through the night. Small pockets of Chan’s men are prodding our defences. We’re holding for now, but the jets will be back. They might hit the castle.
Jeff: What is Jackson doing about it?
Jane: We have enough men to hold and fight. It’s the kids we are worried about. Jackson is making plans to send them to an alternative site.
Jeff: What? There’s no place safer than the castle!
Jane: There is. We’re not the only place with bunkers. The residence the Sultan of Johor keeps is fully equipped as well. It’s also surrounded by quite a few other embassy buildings. Chan will not risk starting something that will incur the wrath of those players.
Jeff: Don’t be so sure about that.
Jane: Nothing’s concrete yet, but plans are being made just in case we need to evacuate. Where are you now?
Jeff’s hesitation again revealed the grim news that Jane was not happy to hear. The moment he mumbled that he was in Suntec, Jane almost threw a fit.
Jane: What the fuck?!
Jeff: Calm down.
Jane: You are injured and in the middle of the fucking hornet’s nest, and you want me to calm down?
Jane’s words over the phone were so loud that Jeff had to move the phone away from his ear. The volume was so high that it caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to look at him.
Jeff: I’m okay. Quit making a fuss.
Jane took a deep breath and tried to compose her emotions. She held her forehead in her hand while she looked around helplessly in the middle of the operations room in the Castle. Chan’s forces were practically massing in the middle of the city, and her husband was stuck in the midst of it all. How was she expected not to be worried? Jane clenched her fists and glanced at the camera feeds coming in from drones and cameras mounted on top of buildings in the middle of town.
One of those cameras showed a column of soldiers arriving in the middle of the development. Hundreds of men were unloading from the backs of trucks and vehicles and heading into Suntec City. The entire downtown area was practically connected by a network of tunnels. From there, they had easy access to launch an assault on the surrounding buildings.
Jane: Who is there with you?
Jane asked in the calmest voice she could muster.
Jeff: Xia, Nikka, Johari, and Barry. We were cut off from the rest when we pulled back. Some roadblocks were down and Chan’s men had taken over some buildings. It was chaos. We could not make it to the ops centre in Maxwell.
Jane: Maxwell is gone.
Jeff: I know. We’re holding up in one of the towers. We’ll rest up and wait for nightfall before making our way out. We’ll be fine…
Jeff was interrupted by the sound of jet engines screamed overhead, and moments later, Jane heard the sound of the engines as well.
Jane: They’re coming back. I’m not sure what they are hitting.
Jeff: Dear, you be careful, you hear me?
Jane: You too. Don’t you dare die on me! I’m the only person allowed to kill you, you hear me?
Jeff: Haha… yes…
Jeff hung up and switched off his phone. His eyelids felt heavy when he took one last glance at Xia, who was peering out from behind the blinds towards the lift lobby.
Honestly, he didn’t know if they could make it out of Suntec City with such a heavy presence of soldiers.
But one thing he knew for sure, it was going to be a long night ahead.