Into the Fire

by Mark Tufo

I hadn’t even thought that far out. If the Genos disengaged from the battle, it wasn’t like the Mutes were just going to let them go. Nope, they would hunt them down for miles, shit, cross-country if they had to.

  “What about you, Keecan, and your other officers?”

  “We are not officers, we are merely leaders of our troops.”

  “Pretty much the definition of an officer. You, all of you, could get out of here before it’s too late.”

  “Is my life more important than theirs that I should run? Are those not your words?”

  “Listen, I’m not usually an advocate of one being superior over another but in this case, yeah, Keecan. Your people are severely lacking in leadership and to have a rare few like you and those others is important, maybe more important than this battle.”

  “All life is important no matter the perceived rank. Again, your words.”

  “You’re worse than my wife, using my own words against me. Things change, we have to have the ability to adapt.” I got to admit I was blown away by his comment. He was gruff; no doubt about it, but there was a deep wisdom to him as well. “If we get out of this, I cannot wait to introduce you to Drababan.”

  He studied me curiously. “You are not leaving?”

  “You stay, we stay.”

  “The rest of your kind feels the same way?”

  I turned. Reaper raised his gun, Kap a half-filled magazine.

  “I have to, under marital law.” Tracy had not stopped shooting to say that.

  “Can’t think of a better place to be,” BT said.

  “Perhaps all hu-mans are not bad. Are you not important as Earth champion and as an officer in your ranks?” he asked astutely.

  “All of that means shit to me, Keecan…nothing, I mean. None of that means anything.” I had to clarify. “The most important titles I wear are father and husband, that is why I fight, that is why I will continue to fight, and that will be why I die.”

  “No one is dying up here,” Tracy said confidently.

  “But you’re right, your current strategy is only going to work for so long. If it’s a final stand we’re being forced into, let’s give them one.”

  “Final stand?”

  “I know that’s a weird concept for a group that is hell-bent on moving forward, but let’s coalesce what you have left around this building and we will fight as if this place is not merely a furniture warehouse, but rather a portal to a fiery hell, and we will release all of its fury upon the enemy.”

  The sides of Keecan’s face pulled up slightly in an unfamiliar gesture for him—he was smiling. “I am not sure what hell is, but I understand the meaning from your tone. I will command the Genogerians to do just that.” He turned and walked away.

  The word had been passed but it was going to be a lot slower to enact it as they would now have to carefully withdraw to our location, and at the moment we were in the thick of it.

  “What about air support?” Kap asked as he handed Tracy a fresh magazine.

  “What about it? Pretty sure we’re not going to get any,” I told him.

  The Mute armor was fairly ineffectual against their own weapons. I was able to aim center mass with devastating results. Although now we were taking fire as we were well within range and sight of them. Chunks of brick and metal would occasionally fly over and around us. One had been so close to Reaper that the side of his face appeared sun burnt. At least two of Keecan’s men had been hit, one had departed this plane, and the other looked like he wished he would.

  “Not ours…theirs. You just told that Geno to group all his men together. The Progs get their shit together and they’re going to blast this place into oblivion.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that, but I certainly wasn’t telling him that. “Something else is going on. If they had the ability to launch ships, you can bet your ass they would have. I hope,” I added those words so low that I was certain no one had heard.

  “I fucking heard that, Talbot,” BT said next to me.

  “So did I.” Tracy was slamming another magazine home.

  “I think maybe we should all stop talking out loud when we don’t want someone else to hear. Apparently none of us has an inside voice.”

  It was a strange war we were fighting. I don’t know how many war movies I had sat and watched with my father, bullets screaming through the air, cannons, grenades, and rocket launchers tearing up earth and people. Men crying out for help. The sheer volume of noise war produced was crushing to the soul, the cacophony making some men freeze, not able to move forward or backward—shell shocked, I guess, is the appropriate term. Unable to process any brain function because of the overwhelming influx of stimuli. This…this was not like that. Yes, it was loud, especially being next to two people using conventional weaponry, but not overly so. The sound the alien arms made was negligible, as was the grunting and straining of the aliens engaged in mortal combat. Occasionally, one side or the other would pick up a battle chant, but I’d been to baseball games that were louder.

  When that second Geno on the roof finally died, I grabbed the two weapons and gave one to Reaper and the other to Tracy.

  Just because the noise was lacking did not mean that the fighting was any less intense. The ground was plagued with those who knew all too well what was happening. Reaper, for some reason, seemed to be attracting the majority of shots, as one blew his hat from his head, sending it halfway across the roof. The smell of burnt hair dominated.

  “Fuck, is my head still on?” he cried, a hand by his side not willing to reach up and potentially touch brain.

  “Whoa,” I told him.

  “Whoa, what?” He was close to panicking.

  Kap pulled him down. “You’re fine, just going to be styling a reverse Mohawk for a bit.” He was staring at the top of Reaper’s head.

  “You…you sure my head is still there?”

  “Pretty sure. Let me borrow your gun for a little bit while you take a break to collect your thoughts. They sound close enough. I’m not going to have to be good at aiming.” Kap no sooner stood than he fell over backwards. For a second I thought maybe he was still having some vertigo, until I saw the smoke pouring from his chest.

  There was no hesitation in Reaper as he lunged from the wall and pulled open Kap’s jacket. Again, unlike a war movie, no heroic words came from Kap before he died. No admissions of love for some distant woman, no words of encouragement for those he’d left behind, nothing. His eyes had taken on the flatness of a fish. He’d died before his head had bounced off the tarpaper. The round had eaten nearly halfway through his body, frying all the organs it had encountered. It was a visceral reminder of just what we were engaged in.

  The problem with being in the midst of those that wish to kill you is that you do not have time to think on those unlucky ones that have fallen. You have to do all in your power to not join them. You cannot stop to mourn their passing nor fear that the same may happen to you. War is simple in its cruelty. Kill them before they kill you. Does it get any more basic than that? Reaper closed Kap’s eyes, grabbed his weapon back, and silently got back into position to begin shooting again. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to, it was all over his face. He was going to take the guilt of this to his grave. Kap had taken a round meant for him. Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a malady. You are mentally punishing yourself for living through something you had absolutely no control over, although he might never see it that way. He’ll doubt his actions for the rest of his life. Again, that might be a non-factor given our circumstances, but one never knows.

  The fighting got more frenetic as Genos fought their way back to us. The battle had been raging for a few hours; thousands had died on each side. It was impossible to tell if anyone had gained an advantage, at least among the aliens. In the eyes of man this was about as good as it got. If we could throw some Stryvers in here, and get them killed as well, shit, that’d be a damn near perfect trifecta. Don’t get me wrong; the Genos could still be a valuable ally, it was ju
st that they were so unpredictable and volatile. Kind of like BT.

  “Did you say something?” He looked over his shoulder at me. I had a momentary panic like maybe the mind-sharing thing the Stryvers did with us had somehow changed our wiring and allowed him to hear me.

  I shook my head. I certainly didn’t want to wage a war on two fronts. Our personal sliver of hell got a little less warm as more and more Genos came to us. The sun was near to setting when I reached for my more traditional rifle because the Mutes had been pushed back so far. It was then I remembered I didn’t have any ammunition. I took that as a perfect opportunity to sit back and catch a breather. Tracy and BT joined me shortly thereafter. It was Reaper who had to be convinced he was no longer effectual and to stop. Even then, he did not sit. He just stood over Kap’s body like he was guarding it. I looked up, thinking that it was getting a lot darker faster than it should have. It was then I noticed the thousands of birds circling overhead. They were going to dine well for days to come. I shivered, thinking about eyeballs being plucked from heads and soft organs being pulled from bodies. Enemy or not, that was not a welcome way out of this world. Although, being eaten from the inside out by worms wasn’t all that much better.

  “Great train of thought, Talbot,” I said aloud.

  Tracy’s eyes were closed, and she was breathing softly. My guess was she was asleep or close enough to it that I didn’t want to disturb her. I looked over to BT who was pointing to the back of the roof and did a quick motion with his head. We both got up, I squeezed Reaper’s shoulder as we passed him. He tensed up as I did so, but said nothing.

  “Want one?”

  “I don’t really smoke, at least cigarettes. Shit, come to think of it, I don’t even remember the last time I took a toke of something a little greener.”

  “You afraid this is going to kill you?” He was putting the pack away.

  “Wish you had a beer, but yeah, give me the damn thing.” I coughed after I took my first drag.

  “You do realize you don’t hold it in like weed, right?”

  “I do now,” I told him when I got my breath back. “Smooth,” I coughed out, taking a look at the cigarette, wondering if I’d be able to see the tiny razorblades that seemed to be infused within the paper confines, some of which were now sluicing down my throat.

  “I don’t really like these things, but it seems the right thing to do when you’re at war.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Think we’ll get out of this?” he asked. He was looking at me intently, I think for some sign of a lie.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He stared maybe even harder for a second. “Yeah, I didn’t think so either,” he said as he turned away. “Been a fucked up ride so far, guess it had to end sometime.”

  I was getting a little light-headed as I took another drag. “My guess is that no one would have thought we’d make it this far.” I sniffed the cigarette, wondering if it had been stuffed with a little extra substance.

  “Relax, it’s a plain old cigarette. You look a little green.”

  “Yeah, I feel a little green.” There was a lull as we got lost in our own thoughts for a moment. “I was hoping I’d see my son at least one more time. It’s kind of unfair that he’s going to lose both his parents at the same time. At least he’ll have Drababan and the rest of my family.”

  “You don’t think we’ll get any help from the general?”

  “I don’t see how.” I was leaning up against the wall that led downstairs and into the store. “He was getting pummeled when we left, he can’t stick around long enough to send help. ‘Sides, he has no idea where we are. Even if he somehow caught wind of this battle, it looks like Genos and Mutes killing each other, hardly something he would intervene in.”

  “I invited you over here because I thought you might have something worth telling me.”

  “Not for my winning personality?”

  “Not so much.”

  “It’s not over yet. I think, as it stands, we could beat the Mutes.”

  “But?”

  “The Progs will send help. It’s only a matter of time. Either dropping more troops or just blowing this whole area into a shithole.”

  “You really are a shining light at the end of the tunnel.”

  “Sorry, man, I don’t really have a barrel of monkeys to pull out of my ass.”

  “Maybe try railing on God a little. That seems to work.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No, man, the last time you did, we were getting our asses handed to us from that Battleship, then ‘poof’.” He even made the sound and the hand movements to punctuate his point.

  “Poof?”

  “Yeah, ‘poof’.” He did the same set of gestures and sounds. “And Paul’s there, saving our asses. I think maybe you should try it again.”

  “Yeah, like I really have a hotline set up with the big man. If that was the case, I would have already won the lottery or maybe that time back in high school when I wanted a three-some with two of the cheerleaders.” I think I got a faraway look to my eyes.

  “He’s not going to help with that kind of crap, it really has to mean something.”

  “Oh, it would have really meant something with Betsy and Danielle.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Fine, I think you’ve now surpassed me in the lunacy department, but since you probably won’t give me another smoke unless I at least try, here goes. God, please help.”

  “No, no, no, not like that. Like you’re pissed off and you can’t understand why He’s leaving you out to dry.”

  “What are you, Spielberg?”

  “Think of your soon-to-be-orphaned son.”

  That was hitting below the belt, I was surprised at the depth of my fury and the rage that filled my throat. It couldn’t have been buried too deep with how quickly and violently I expelled the words. I tempered my words because it was, umm…well…God that I was talking to, and sure, I might be pissed off, but one does not go cussing out the big guy unless they wanted to get a direct express trip into hell. “I’ve been a decent person. Well, I’ve been an alright person, but I’m getting better.” I was looking to the sky. “I’ve given all I can, mentally, physically, and spiritually, to overcome this onslaught you have placed in my way. I don’t think it’s fair that now you will pull the rug out from under us. Maybe I deserve it, but my wife doesn’t, and neither does BT. And certainly not my son. We need your help and would appreciate it…nope, scratch that last word, you owe us this help. If we are indeed your children, and this is indeed your crown jewel of a planet, you owe us!” I was pointing upwards.

  I thought it was a crack of lightning coming to smite me down for my heresy.

  “That was a tank!” BT said excitedly.

  I pulled my finger back and was staring at it curiously, like maybe it was actually my antennae to Heaven.

  The roof shook as more rounds struck off in the distance.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Fuck, Talbot, you’re like having a genie around!” BT picked me up and was swinging me.

  “You two having a moment?” Tracy asked. “You maybe want to rejoin the war effort? It sounds like we have some help.”

  “I know, I know. Mike did it!” BT was smiling as he put me down. I swirled my finger around my temple and rolled my eyes as if to say “he’s nuts” before we followed her back to the edge of the roof.

  We couldn’t see who had come to join the fray, only the explosions in the distance as they lit up the horizon in violent hues of red, orange and yellow.

  “Friends of yours?” BT asked excitedly to Tracy.

  “I don’t know who it is.” She was trying like the rest of us to see if she could make anything out.

  “Do you think it’s our friends from Area 51?” BT asked.

  “I don’t see how.” I was thinking on it. “I can’t believe they would have spent the resources necessary to get tanks her
e, and again, how would they know to do so? Not like CNN is reporting on this.”

  “It has to be military,” Tracy said. “Right?” She had turned her statement into a question.

  “I don’t know, makes absolutely no sense. It’s Mutes killing Genos, damn near perfect scenario. Why risk anything?”

  “Who cares?” It was BT who had hit the nail on the head.

  Frankly, I didn’t give a shit if it was pissed off nuns that had got ahold of some heavy war machinery and were delivering some good old-fashioned Catholic justice. That was just fine with me, although my knuckles hurt just thinking about them. Those of you in the know realize what I’m talking about. Nuns have a habit (see what I did there?) of using heavy wooden rulers smacked across knuckles to get their point across.

  “Is this your doing?” Keecan had come over and was pointing.

  I wanted to take credit. Not for any reasons of pride or grandeur, but I thought it might give me some leverage in our dealings, because up until now we were at his…not mercy, he wasn’t holding us captive…benevolence maybe? A subdued mercy perhaps. We had a strange agreement, Keecan and me, and I’m not sure why I’d let it go on so long. Maybe I thought I could change his mind or something. But basically we were fighting until there was a resolution, and in both resolutions we were dead. And by ‘we’, I mean the group I was traveling with. Talk about getting the short end of the shitty stick. Keecan and I were fighting side by side to combat a greater enemy. If the enemy won, we were dead, obvious enough. If we somehow won, the alliance was dissolved; and, once again, we were dead. Talk about painting yourself into a corner. This was more like allowing bubbling lava to force me over a cliff edge. Now that I realized it, I can’t believe how I’d missed it. Kind of like when you finally find fucking Waldo in those pictures, then you can’t un-see him. Stupid Waldo—apparently it was all his fault now.

  I came up with a compromise, remembering my entreaty to God. Who knows, weirder things have happened. “Maybe.” I told him. At least I didn’t end my answer with a question mark.

  Keecan grunted and surprisingly left it at that.

  There was little we could do from that rooftop except revel in this small victory. We were too far away from the lines to fight, and now that the store was completely enshrouded in Genos, leaving wasn’t really an option.