Regression - Rise of Mythos

by Johnwalkson Stratikatter

  “We don’t have a choice, use as little as you can. If we can fracture the wall we will break through old school.”

  Herschel placed the C4 in a diamond pattern on the concrete wall and then joined the team in the corner of the room, protected only by some steel cabinets and an old desk.

  “Cover your ears boys and girls, this is gonna hurt!”

  Herschel triggered the explosive and the world stopped for a moment. Edmunds felt like he had been electrocuted by a thousand volts and was temporarily paralyzed.

  Feeling nauseous, the team slowly got to their feet and within seconds bullets flew through the opening. Edmunds grabbed a grenade and pulled the pin, lobbing it through the door.

  “It’s ‘Hammer Time’!” Edmunds laughed as the grenade exploded, tearing the hostiles apart on the other side of the wall.

  Edmunds, Herschel and Lyssa then kicked and pulled at the remains of the concrete wall, finding a space where they could crawl through around the tangled reinforcing steel. Once they were all in the workshop they ran across to the truck. With a severe ringing still in their ears they climbed into the vehicle.

  Searching for the keys, Edmunds found them on the visor above the steering wheel. Moments later, the diesel engine roared into life billowing dark smoke from the chrome stacks behind the drivers cab. Edmunds depressed the clutch and put the truck in gear before he planted his foot. The engine roared and the truck built up speed as it drove across the floor toward the ramp.

  They hit the steel panel at twenty five miles per hour and it was torn from its hinges, the door’s motor flung through the air, narrowly missing the glass windshield.

  “Think you forgot to pay for your parking,” Herschel noted grasping his bleeding stomach.

  “That’s what I love about you Hersh, always got time for a one-liner!”

  Edmunds glanced over to the driver’s side view mirror and noticed the sudden appearance of headlights. “Shit! They are following us – we will need to transfer to one of the cars in the back. Hersch are you up to one last move?”

  “What? This? It’s just a scratch! Let’s go.”

  With dust billowing from the eighteen wheels, Edmunds handed the wheel to Lyssa and turned to Herschel. “Buddy, you may need to lay down some lead to keep them back for a few moments.”

  “Already on it,” as Herschel loaded the clip into his M16 and started to wind down the window.

  Edmunds climbed out of the moving truck and started to work his way down the side. Bullets started to spark off the steel framing and Edmunds lost his footing, swinging off the truck and hanging on by one hand only, saved by his burly biceps.

  Regaining his balance, he made it onto the open trailer on the rear and worked his way back past over vehicles to a military issue HMMWV Humvee. With his hand on the driver’s door he reached forward to open it but was tackled from behind. One of the pursuers had made his way onto the getaway truck. Pinned to the steel framework, Edmunds struggled against the large limbs around his midriff. Still unable to identify his assailant, he did notice the sheer size of him. Face down, he gripped a horizontal member of the trailer, then adjusted his position to allow him to thrust his elbow into his attacker’s chest. The first strike seemed ineffective. Again Edmunds struck, but this time with more urgency in his action. The connection was more accurate and he felt the hold on him loosen. He continued this action until he was free enough to lurch his head backward. The blow connected with the attacker’s face, forcing him away. Edmunds quickly spun to face his opponent.

  “Dear God!” he shouted. The eight foot creature was in the process of standing back up when Edmunds was able to fathom the true stature of the beast. Even through the darkness, he was able to recognize this must be the botched result of the experiments he saw in the facility they had escaped from. Muscles bulged with veins and patches of feathers could be seen over the upper body and arms. The most concerning feature to Edmunds was the face, especially the eyes, piercing in the night sky. “What are you?!”

  But the abomination was not interested in conversation and advanced toward him. Edmunds knew he would have to utilize his other skills rather than enter into a fist for fist brawl. Surveying the trailer, he noticed a length of chain by the rear of the cab. He quickly turned and darted toward the front of the trailer, but he was out paced as the giant attacker jumped over him to land between him and the chain. Out of frustration and panic Edmunds rushed the attacker with a roundhouse kick. The anticipation of the connection with his opponent’s jaw was short lived as, mid-flight, his was foot clutched and he was spun into a vertical beam. Wincing in pain, Edmunds instinctively rolled to his left, narrowly missing the stomping boot that crushed through the floor. Still winded, he backed himself next to the grille of a Mitsubishi L300. Not yet standing, he dipped again to his left to avoid the wrath of a swinging right hook, which crumpled a sizeable dent in the bonnet.

  Ducking underneath the light truck, Edmunds spotted a tire iron lodged above the rear axle. He extended his arm out, enough to wrap his fingers around the cold metal shaft. At that moment, two powerful hands wrapped around his ankles and dragged him out from beneath the truck. Using the momentum of his attacker, he rotated a quarter turn before swinging the tire iron. His strike landed flush on the temple of the mutated man, which dropped him to his knees, releasing Edmunds. With both of them on the floor of the trailer, Edmunds seized his opportunity to get the upper hand. Picking up the tire iron, he motioned toward the attacker, shoving the blunt end under his opponent’s chin. He then raised it upwards in order to make eye contact.

  “You should probably go and see a doctor…” Edmunds started, before kicking the creature off the trailer. The limp body bounced once before being crushed under the three rows of the rear tires, “Because you look a little run down!”

  Not forgetting the urgency of their escape, Edmunds then quickly released the rear ramps. They skidded back into the dusty trail of the truck. Once inside the Humvee, he started the engine and backed it down careful to hammer the gas at the last minute to maintain control of the vehicle.

  Under pressure of the enemy fire he accelerated past the truck and pulled in front to use the main cab as a shield. He sped past a mob of kangaroos that had ventured into the containment zone and for an instant pondered why they would do so. Surely animals would be able to sense the danger and keep away? Maybe the edge of the zone is near? Snapping back into the situation, he reached out the window and signaled for the others to climb down and enter through the rear doors of the vehicle.

  Herschel immediately understood. “Lyssa you first, I’ll cover you.”

  With one hand on the wheel and the other holding an M16, he laid cover fire at the vehicles either side of him. When the magazine finally ran dry he tossed the machine gun down and reached around to grab his backpack. Ramming a detonator into the remaining plastic explosive, he primed the charge and set the timer for sixty seconds.

  Using the driver’s seatbelt he tied the steering wheel in position and wedged the spent M16 on the accelerator. Hershel rushed across the vehicle to the passenger side. Once there, he reached down to grab a grenade from his pocket. He pulled the pin and threw it at the 4WD buggy close behind. The explosion forced the vehicle to skid away just long enough to allow him to climb out and onto the bonnet of the truck.

  Negotiating his way down onto the bumper of the Kenworth, he timed his jump for when Edmunds brought the Humvee into range. As he launched himself, he managed to only grab hold of the edge of the rear fender, skidding on his knees on the harsh desert floor.

  “Aaaaah!” Herschel yelled before pulling himself into the rear of the Humvee.

  “Nail it!” Herschel yelled “We’ve only got seconds,” and before he had finished, the explosive detonated.

  The cab and trailer jack-knifed vertically, skidding across the coarse terrain as the diesel tanks were ruptured. The groan of metal and rubber pre-empted what was to c
ome. The vehicle then exploded in a massive fireball, wave after wave of fire resonated outwards and with a final blast, taking out the hostiles and their vehicles.

  The searing heat from the explosion singed nearby trees and pieces of metal, kangaroo and dingo showered down from the sky, landing with a dull thud.

  Lyssa looked out the window and saw one last Hostile on a motorcycle following close behind.

  “Dammit!” she yelled, “they don’t give up do they?”

  With the engine screaming, Edmunds swerved and threw dust into the visor of the rider, but he accelerated and was soon beside them.

  Summoning all his will, Herschel climbed into the elevated turret with the mounted M2 Browning machine gun and swung the fifty caliber weapon around to open fire. The mechanical hammering sound was deafening as shells splashed down on the roof of the Humvee. The bullets tore the motorcycle and rider into ribbons, vaporizing them in the subsequent explosion at seventy miles per hour.

  With their adrenalin at maximum capacity, they charged across the desert, not slowing. Finally, after an hour of driving Edmunds spoke.

  “What were they doing there – growing chickens? Are they building an army?”

  Herschel, ignoring his questions, replied “I think I need a hospital; Lyssa is there a med kit in this vehicle?”

  The Humvee drove into the distance, monitored only by the satellite orbiting above, transmitting pictures back to Langley.

  Six

  Four Years Later

  IT HAD BEEN four years since Edmunds and his team had infiltrated the bunker in Woomera and rescued Lyssa from the compound.

  Recently, satellite transmissions worldwide had been interrupted and every man, woman and child listened in as the representative for the leader of the uprising, Mythos, had his message delivered to the human race.

  This was followed by the second in command, Achilles. He was a strange, winged, half human, half bird who had spoken of how his race merely desired peace and harmony; of a balance of nature where each race could live and share resources; a mutually beneficial world where coexistence could enhance the world rather than destroy it.

  Sadly, the humans had responded with their typical, ignorant violence, which led snipers to attack Achilles and his followers.

  Fortunately for Achilles he had escaped with only minor wounds and shortly afterwards, Mythos, their leader, had ordered the attack. The world was informed of the choices they could make, to surrender and live or fight and face a new destiny.

  ****

  Battlefield – 05:40

  Edmunds stared straight ahead at the figures on the horizon, and wondered to himself how the day would play out. He controlled firepower, there was no doubt, but he was a seasoned soldier and never underestimated his opponents – not under any circumstances.

  Edmunds turned, “Captain – the drones are in position?”

  “Sir, on your command.”

  “I wonder – I wonder how hard they will strike,” Edmunds contemplated.

  On the other side of the valley, with the mist slowly rising and steam pouring from the beaks of his army, Achilles – the powerful figure, half man, half chicken – marched the battle line holding aloft on an extended wing, a colorful flag set on the end of a long, golden staff.

  In a loud voice, Achilles addressed his soldiers.

  “Brothers! Rejoice! For today the sun rises slowly above the land ahead of us, casting warmth upon our feathers and hope for our future. The hope I speak of is so close and within our grasp.”

  “We stand here, wing to wing, and our destiny can only be shaped by our actions today. Our Master – the great and all powerful Mythos-long - may - he - rein, has provided us with this opportunity. As the hours pass and as the sun rises and sets, he grows stronger, destined to rule and protect us all.”

  Silence befell the crowd, as Achilles stood tall surveying those that stood before him.

  “Mythos speaks of the past, of a time where, for generations, the humans caged us like animals, a thousand to a cell, all side by side, fighting like animals for the last piece of grain. They have slaughtered us by the millions. They have fed from our unborn, they have raped and pillaged our kind with an unmeasured arrogance! And for what?! How had we wronged them? They show no interest, nor thought, nor care, about how we feel, about the role we play. Mythos has given us the strength to fight back, to claim what is rightfully ours. I speak here not of worldly possessions, not of the things that the humans desire most, but rather of a simpler future for us, for our offspring. I speak of our freedom. We can live in harmony, without the fear of the eggs we lay being stolen, being destroyed, for we are peaceful and we seek only peace with our neighbour. But take heed brothers, often for peace there must be war. I ask you here today, to unite, to stand tall, to move with grace and precision, to kill clean, but to show no mercy as there is a job to be done, for our race to move forward. It is against our nature to kill, I grant you that, but if we do not, then we will be the ones who fall. Mythos, long - may - he - rein, will protect us. He will not let the humans gain victory. His wisdom will always guide us.”

  Achilles arched backwards and let out a violent screech that echoed across the valley, resonating throughout the 10,000 strong army behind him.

  “Brothers rise, we move now! May the grace and guidance of Mythos protect you, now or in a future life. Fight for your brothers, fight for the fallen, fight to reclaim our lands, what is ours, but above all, fight for your freedom!”

  The battle-cry brought the army to a frenzy and Achilles turned slowly, raised his head and looked across the undulating valley to the human army facing him.

  Edmunds looked back at his men and barked commands.

  “Put your ear protection on, those bird screams will burst your eardrums! On my signal fire four high explosive grenades twenty meters to their line. Fire!”

  Two soldiers raced forward and down on one knee fired grenades from their weapons. The charges arched through the sky and detonated in front of the chicken army.

  The feathered fighters screamed, and the human army covered their ears as the screech was deafening.

  Achilles turned, “Myyythhhoooos – Long – May – He – Reinnnnnnn,” and with that note he turned and charged. His muscular figure enabled him to run across the land stepping sideways, weaving at over fifty miles per hour.

  The rush into no man’s land had begun. The earth shook beneath the sheer numbers of the poultry army in formation. As they scurried across the valley floor, small sparks could be seen on the horizon. Nearing the humans’ frontline, the sporadic bursts of light increased to a solid band of muzzle flash. Achilles, still leading his platoon, let out another war cry and entered the swarm of bullets. Herschel had positioned himself on higher ground with a squad of snipers and scouts and their Barrett M82 sniper rifles.

  “C’mon lads, when there’s this many to choose from, you shouldn’t be picky!” He joked as he squeezed the trigger. The gun rocked back on its bipod as the bullet instantly took the kill, the chicken soldier falling limp into the stampede. Each of the other snipers followed his lead and unleashed the .50 caliber shells into the enemy. Herschel felt the rush that you only get from being consumed by war, for this was his niche.

  As he lined up the next one he called out to the team, “Check this out, half a click due east”. All eyes diverted to the said location. “Cock, a, doodle, do!” The crack of the rifle was quickly followed by cheering and laughter. Herschel had taken the head clean off his victim, leaving the oversized bird to veer off and sporadically take out his own comrades. Inspired and wanting to impress, the rest of the snipers returned to their guns. Although chicken soldiers began to stumble and fall with the firefight, the void between the two sides was narrowing. The wave of avian attackers overcame the barrage of bullets to pierce through the front line of humans.

  Achilles launched into a frenzy of rage and several men went flying through the air, torn in half, their ent
rails cast out like fodder for the hawks.

  Shocked, Edmunds sprang into action – “Move, move, move!”

  The initial impact was felt at least ten rows back. The clash of feathers and flesh signified that there was no going back. No longer was man’s way of life going to be sunny-side up, no longer would Mythos’ followers be needlessly plucked. The challenge of the new world pecking order was nigh.

  Edmunds shouted orders as the wave of Mythos’ minions continued making inroads. Pound for pound, his men were no match for the superior strength of this enemy. Limbs were pecked off with ease, as if the chicken soldiers were only feeding for worms. Torsos were shredded to pieces by the vicious scratching of talons. Men screamed in anger and fear; it was a blood bath.

  Knowing that this was their last stand, the men dug deep, slowing the feathery flurry. Not through hand to wing combat, but with utilizing man’s advantage – weapons. The second squadron of soldiers clutched their military issued M16s and squeezed the triggers to awaken the resistance. Bullets leapt out of the barrels like rabid dogs, tearing through anyone and anything in their way. Shrieks from their enemy were muffled under the unified sound of thousands of machine guns.

  Herschel had left his sniper rifle in order to join his friend on the frontline. “Hey Ed, I may be from Turkey, but I ain’t no chicken!” and with that he picked up his M2A1-7 flamethrower. Making his way quickly to the action, he ignited his ostentatious weapon. The fiery beast immediately came to life and the bloodlust took over. His enemy could not turn away fast enough and were engulfed in flames. Panicking and disorientated, the enemy began to unintentionally wreak havoc on their brood. The smell of burning feathers and flesh hung low in the valley.

  “Mmmm mmm. Crispy skin chicken – just like mamma used to make!” Taunted Herschel. “Hey come back Clucky, I haven’t got enough of you yet to fill my fifty piece bucket!”

  The glow of the flames seemed to mesmerize Herschel as he methodically doused his enemy in the demonic fireball. No longer did he see the rest of the fighting around him, he was in his own world of berserk.