* * * * *
Sir Anthony aimed the twin revolvers skyward, just as I did with the tommy gun. The silver bullets in the latter, and the blessed steeljackets in the former, might not be enough to kill this snake-giantess. But, at least we could cause her a lot of discomfort. Perhaps even buy enough time for Miss Stepwicz to get Little Bob Gabriel to safety!
Then, I heard it. A sound very similar to the one that had prefaced our near-miraculous rescue at Big Arbor Lake. Only multiplied by a factor of, at least, fifty.
Because that was approxiamtely how many MB-3 biplanes suddenly descended from the clouds overhead!
"Everyone into the woods!" ordered Sir Anthony: "Now!!"
The rest of us did not need to be told twice.
The next fifteen minutes were horrendous ones, as plan after plane after plane came plummeting downward to strafe Meleusina with what I felt safe in assuming were more blessed steeljackets. For, just as Pamela Plaisantine had done at Big Arbor Lake, Meleusina, herself, screamed deafeningly loud and long each time she was hit!
This was not to say that those brave pilots managed to evade her every time attempt to grasp them. Tragically, just the opposite! The occasional fighter plane that managed to avoid being crushed between her gigantic clawed hands more often than not wound up being swatted to Earth by her huge prehensile tail. Even so, the incessant strafing began to take its toll on that verdant monstrosity.
Because, by the start of the sixteenth minute, her upper torso began to teeter.
"Everyone!" exlaimed Sir Anthony: "Run!"
Again, we heeded his advice without question. And, a good thing, too! For, after we had traversed what felt like a couple hundred yards, Meleusina collapsed...face-first.
BOOM!
The ensuing seismic vibrations resulted in our own falls forward. With Meleusina's immense head just missing our much smaller bodies!!
When we finally managed to pick ourselves up, the drone of the planes was gone. Yet, we still heard machine gun fire. And, Sir Anthony gasped.
"The boys' camp!"
Once again, we understood what he meant without the need for elaboration. And we followed behind him. Our collective breaths becoming more labored with our exertions. Yet, we dared not slow up! Not if what we feared was true.
That the Buru-nagas were now machine-gunning the innocent boys and girls of Camp New Hope out of vengeful spite.
Fortunately, we were proven wrong. Indeed, what we now witnessed was the polar opposite of what we had dreaded. The boys' side of this summer camp was now the scene of open combat between what was left of those Siamese viragos...and a large detachment of American doughboys!
It was astounding. Those Buru-nagas who tried to assault these soldiers in their humanoid reptilian form were chopped to pieces by infantry rifle squads containing at least one B.A.R.-equipped marksman apiece. While those who remained in mortal form, in an attempt to use their tommy guns, were gradually being forced into smaller and tighter groups by light cavalrymen shooting Colt M-1911's from beneath the necks of their saddle mounts!
In the end, the surviving viragos dropped their weapons and knelt down, hands behind their heads (after being ordered to do so in Mandarin Chinese).
Then, and only then, did everyone and everything else get drowned out by the engines of the XZR-1. Major General Jonathan Hopkins (USMC), commanding.
tbc
Giantess World
