Fall, Rise, Repeat

by Matthew Schneider

  Zav slammed his fist against the table. “If every human being is out there fighting, then who are we to sit inside with our thumbs up our assholes...gentlemen, despite my cloudy mind, I can see very clearly that the whole world is fighting against me. And so, with every ally I have, I will stand and fight against these forces.”

  Ryker pressed the button on the radio and responded, “we will continue to hold our ground. Shoot anything that shoots you.” He then turned to Zav. “If you want to step outside and pick up a rifle—maybe that’s your way of redeeming yourself one last time—then you are more than welcome to; I can’t fight you on it.”

  Zav stood up abruptly. “So long as you promise to have my back every step of the way.”

  Ryker looked at the rest of the table. “Xavier, I don’t think any of us would be here, under your command, if we didn’t. Now be a warrior and fight tooth and claw for the cause you support.”

  “Hand me a weapon, and I will march out to the front lines—alongside my brothers. Alongside the men and women who know that we are all part of a greater and more noble cause. Stay safe.”

  A soldier handed a rifle to Zav and walked him up the steps. The soldier shoved open the basement door, sending fallen debris backward. Zav nodded his head and stepped out into the darkened and shattered world around him. The door shut behind him.

  Zav realized he had made a foolish mistake. He spun around and knocked on the door. The door reopened and the soldier stood on the first step.

  “I need gear. I need a helmet.”

  After a swift supply run, Zav was given everything he needed to embrace the fire. He slid the helmet over his head, wincing as it pinched his ears, and then comfortably strapping it to his chin. He held his rifle in his hands like it was a trophy. The trophy to prove the war was his and victory was imminent.

  “This is Ryker. Xavier, are you able to hear me?” said Ryker through the speakers on the ear-patches on the helmet.

  Zav comically looked around for the source of the voice. He rubbed the side of his head as he spoke and accidentally activated the transponder: “I don’t know how this works, so if you can hear me, let me know how to respond…”

  “Good question, Zav, although it seems you must’ve figured it out. Simply place a finger against the patch over your left or right ear to signal a response. Go ahead, try it out.”

  Zav placed his gloved index finger against his left ear. “I feel like I’m in a video game tutorial. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Starr. Now, we can use the live global positioning unit and the live map, alongside our soldier positioning technology, to know exactly where you are, what’s going on, and where to go. You’re facing west, for example.”

  “Yes, I can see the sun in the distance,” Zav responded.

  “Great! But we don’t have much time to kill. Two or three blocks away there is a small troop in an alleyway. I want you to head there and see if we can start out the journey by getting some assistance. You didn’t expect to do this alone, did you?”

  Zav chuckled but did not respond. He stepped over the charred remains on the floor and crept under the collapsed beams of the White House. He crawled over a mispositioned red couch and kicked open the front door. He slid down the railing outside and landed with a thud on the sidewalk.

  The city was an absolute mess. The sector had previously been astonishing—now it was only disappointing. There were fires erupting from many buildings, smoke appearing like silhouettes against the orange sky.

  He walked slowly to conserve energy but also wanted to take in his surroundings. His heart and mind buzzed with activity—fear of the fight that would ensue, and adrenaline that he was doing something big.

  He walked across the sidewalk and into the small garden in front of the White House. He trampled the beautiful flowers. He made his way across the front yard and to the front gate. There were two soldiers inside.

  “I’m heading—”

  “We know. Step on through,” said one of the guards.

  Zav smiled weakly and stepped through the opening between the two metal plates that made up the gate. Outside of the barricaded capital, the city was devastated, as if the enemy’s plan was to bring down every building possible.

  “Take a right at the intersection. You’ll have to climb over the fence.”

  Zav did as he was told. He walked down the middle of street, looking left and right, up and down, at the drastically changed city. It was quite peculiar that the insides of the city had been hit so hard, yet there was no enemy in sight…

  He turned right at the intersection. The traffic lights were in a knot of cables in the middle of the road. There were only two cars, both of them Cadillac luxury sedans. One had a small American flag hood ornament.

  In the middle of the road, spanning from one building to the other, was a four-meter-tall chain-link fence. There was no apparent reason that it was installed, because there was absolutely nothing on the other side except abandoned cars who had made a wrong turn and were not given the opportunity to turn back.

  Zav wrapped his fingers around a link and pulled himself upward. His pointed dress shoes stuck into the wiring easily, and he scaled the fence like a ladder. At the top, he wrapped his hands around the metal bar and swung himself over and began the climb down. Once he was just a yard off the ground, he dropped, landing with an echoing thud.

  He dusted himself off, grease smeared across his palms and pants from the hastily installed barrier.

  “Perfect. A block and then the alley will be on your—okay, they are walking out. They should see you.”

  Zav looked up and saw the half-dozen soldiers exit the small space. He waved them down, and they hustled over.

  He waved and reached out his hand for a handshake. The soldier in the front denied his request. The soldier was young, probably a college student. He had orange hair and a thin moustache. “Xavier Starr, pleasure to see you. I see you are equipped to join us in battle. We’ve been stationed here, waiting until we receive an order to advance to the next checkpoint.”

  “Well, I am that order. Let’s move.”

  Zav trailed the soldiers, jogging at times to keep up with their long legs and quick pace. He listened to the sound of gunshots and explosions in the distance. They sounded many blocks away, and they probably were—most likely at the border of the district. But it was also recognizable that these noises came from every direction. Ryker was correct: the district was being attacked from all sides.

  The leading soldier held up his hand and each person came to a halt. Zav bumped into the back of the soldier he was tailing. He wasn’t sure why they had stopped and tried to read the body language of the ginger. He read confusion and worry.

  All seven saw it at the same time: a convoy of red trucks busted through the construction tarp that had been stretched across the road as part of a security checkpoint and flew across the road. Dozens of vehicles roared past, traveling perpendicular to the route of the seven.

  Zav touched his right ear-patch. “Massive amount of rebels heading south.”

  “Running an update of the map...and, oh! I see it. Certainly a lot of vehicles. They’re heading towards a hub of warfare. I can see there are many groups gathered there. I can actually see the entire city on here, and every place of conflict. From this data I can conclude which areas need assistance; I want y’all to follow that convoy. Flank the enemy while they attack our own men.”

  Zav inched past the soldiers and stood in front of the ginger. The tarp on their side of the intersection provided some cover; enough to allow them to see what was going on but also remain undetected if there wasn’t too much movement. “Okay. Our next orders are to follow the trucks. We’re going to attack them from the back.”

  The ginger cocked his head. “Your orders? Or whose orders? Because I don’t really think you know what you’re doing out here.”

  “Major General Ryker. He just informed me over the earpiece,” Zav said, and turned left onto the connect
ing sidewalk.

  He watched the trucks shrink into the distance, nearing the chaotic scene that was just barely visible. There were scattered muzzle flashes, squealing tires, and a large explosion that struck one of the trucks and accidentally took out two more.

  Adrenaline began to pump into Zav’s bloodstream and his quick stride became a jog, and soon a sprint once he saw an actual rebel.

  The rebels’ attire was easy to pick out: red helmets, red and black jackets, black pants, and black shoes. On the back of the horrific jackets were large symbols. Some were flags, some were fists, others rainbows, and a few simply and uncreatively said ‘REVOLT!’

  Zav placed one knee on the ground and raised his rifle. He thumbed off the safety and took aim at his first target. At the back of the convoy, just before the giant crater that had once been rebel trucks, were a dozen rebels situated around their vehicles. They stayed behind the truck beds and engines for cover. Zav lined up his iron sights with the nearest rebel and took a breath in.

  He pulled back on the trigger, his first use of a gun this strong in weeks, and chirped at the strength of the recoil. But the machine operated as it should: it sent a bullet into the back of the rebel, then a second, and then a few more into the rebels surrounding. His soldiers followed his lead and knelt with him.

  Like a firing squad, they shot rounds into the unsuspecting soldiers. They tumbled to the ground, some grabbing parts of their bodies that had been penetrated. Missed shots broke through windows, dug into vehicles, or recoiled off of angled objects.

  Zav popped out his empty magazine and tossed it aside. He pulled another from the pouch on his combat vest and slid it into his rifle. He cocked the rifle and grunted, bolting forward from his position and sprinting to the next intersection.

  All around him were damaged trucks and twitching bodies of those who had decided to fight for the wrong side of history. Zav saw a rebel up ahead who had taken cover on the last line of truck defenses and readied their weapon for Zav’s head. He skidded across the gravel that blanketed the road and slammed into the crispy tire of a truck upturned from the explosion.

  Signaling to the rest of the squad to move up, Zav peeked around the back of the truck to spot his target. He made brief eye contact with one he assumed was a female. She did not fire, though.

  Instead, she placed down her weapon and stood up from her crouched position. She placed her hands over her head and began walking forward, looking down at the mess of flesh and blood that were once the comrades she fought with. Zav stepped forward, outstretching his hand in a friendly manner. His left hand stayed at his side, resting on top of the handle of his knife.

  He stood just a couple of feet away from the lady. As the woman reached out her hand as well, Zav grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, then sliced at her like a chef slices an onion, sending a clean cut across her neck, starting from the lower left and ending at her right jawline. “The war is far from over. I’d stay and chat but...my time is limited and more valuable than every footstep you’ve taken in your life.”

  She gurgled blood, choked for breath, and stared into Zav’s eyes as she fell to the ground. Zav looked into her eyes with no remorse. War is not friendly, he told himself.

  As she fell to the ground, Zav stepped over her body and motioned his hand for the rest of his soldiers to follow. He stepped into the middle of the intersection and looked around. There were upturned cars and dead men and women everywhere, but it did not seem there were any winners.

  Zav touched his headset. “Where is everybody? Do you see any soldiers or at least some recent activity?”

  There was soft static and the voice returned, “There’s...let me select the area...thirty-nine friendly soldiers to your left. Then another convoy of rebel soldiers backed by helicopters to your right. But beware, I can see unidentified forces advancing towards the commotion ahead of you—”

  Zav looked up and could clearly see the figures moving in the west. He looked back at his squad and gave his head a nod to the left side of the intersection, then proceeded to run in that direction. He jogged to the front of the semi-truck parked across the street. He squeezed between the front of the truck and the building, scraping his boots against the brick.

  He sucked in his stomach and fell through to the other side. Dozens of confused faces stared at him like deer in headlights as he and the others entered the space behind the trailer. There was a makeshift ramp built up to the top of the semitrailer.

  “We took care of the rebels for you, so you’re welcome for that,” Zav said, resting his rifle on his shoulder.

  There was a curious response from the soldiers. “But aren’t you Xavier Starr?” asked one.

  “Why, yes I am. Your president and your leader. But the time for nonsensical talk is over—we have hostiles moving into our location from every direction. Helicopters, trucks, men, and new forms of animalistic warfare that I can’t even imagine.” Zav walked up the ramp and lay down at the peak. He pushed his rifle over the edge and nudged it against the wooden platform. “Brace yourselves…”

  A snowplow broke through the line of cars at the opposite end of the intersection, sending the vehicles flying in either direction. Limp bodies and debris were flung like snowballs.

  Zav let out a terrified shriek and jumped from the top of the ramp and fell onto the trailer, then sprinted to the edge and jumped for the windowsill of the ornate brick building on the corner. He held onto the iron grate as the snowplow smashed into the trailer, splintering wood and sending it flying down the road. The remains of the trailer smashed against the buildings and broke into a shower of pieces.

  But the plow was more dangerous than the flying trailer, with its shovel against the road and either flattening soldiers or pulling them along.

  Limbs were torn and blood was smeared mercilessly. Zav gaped at the brutality of the event, but was pulled out of his gaze when a bullet struck near his window. He sidestepped across the jagged bricks that stuck out to texture the building, then grabbed onto a sill above him and pulled himself up. The golden pocket watch in his pocket slipped out and fell to the ground. Using his knife, he shattered the glass and dove into the room. He tumbled into an unorganized office room.

  He regained his bearings and waited for the screams to stop before he stuck his barrel back out the window to retaliate. He picked his targets carefully, choosing ones that were advancing quickly. Some American soldiers had avoided the plow and were returning fire, so Zav focused his fire on the rebels in the back of the pack to avoid crossfire.

  There were so many lines of rebels that Zav could not count them all. Behind them, armored cars and helicopters moved slowly across the road. He spun and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down and tucking his head to avoid being seen.

  “I expected there to be a surplus of our own soldiers. Most on the road are dead. If not, they will be. It’s as bad as the Holy Road back at Trump Hotel. Where the hell are our reinforcements?” squealed Zav.

  “We’ve had to disperse soldiers all over the sector! I can see on our screen that there are roughly ten-thousand active soldiers in the entire quadrant, and beyond that our network seems to dip. But Xavier, don’t forget about that militia! It looks like they will be breaching the intersection — help them!”

  Zav shook his head in disappointment but leaned out the window anyway. And so the chaos had begun—intersecting the last wave of infantry, two dozen militiamen wearing the most casual clothes appeared from seemingly nowhere and began attacking. They fired pistols—Zav could see no rifles—and wielded knives and swords like samurais.

  “Damn! The medieval ages just clashed with the modern age—” Zav said, and watched in awe as the militia tore through the useless, zombie-like rebels.

  But behind that wave of infantry were the heavily armored rebel trucks, equipped with massive guns and a strange satellite that Zav had never seen before.

  He began firing at the trucks, determined to assist the overworked militia. Late
waves of infantry had begun attacking from behind and swarmed the intersection.

  “Bingo!” screamed Ryker.

  Zav heard the FIM-92 Stinger fire and watched the shell strike the helicopter, blowing it to smithereens and inspiring a new vigor among the soldiers and rebels.

  American soldiers emerged from rooftops and began firing down on the rebels. How the soldiers had climbed up to the rooftops without being noticed was amazing to Zav.

  But the madness had not stopped there. Zav squinted as he saw something so unfamiliar in the distance he gaped and had to blink to make sure it was not his eyes playing tricks.

  Russian BTR-80s and T-90As crawled across the cracked roads like mysterious monsters from the fog.

  “Holy fuck! No! The Russians! The militia—”

  Zav watched as a mob of civilians wielding weak weapons and libertarian flags rushed out of the left road and began tackling the rebels. The rebels moved forward and a fistfight erupted. Weapons were scarcely used.

  “ARE YOU SEEING THIS?” screamed Zav.

  The headset only crackled in response.

  American soldiers, hundreds at least, entered the war zone. It was five blocks of the most sheer violence imaginable. But it only increased as the armored Russian vehicles began shooting into the crowd, causing volcanic eruptions of fire, blood, and concrete. Rebels fired from all directions, shooting whoever they could—Zav could only assume they were beginning to feel overrun and fearful.

  The earsplitting rumble of tanks, the cries of slaughtered men, the clashing of metal and the crumple of brick was beginning to sound like music to Zav’s ears. Yet, his feet stayed planted and he made no effort to join the fight.

  The American M60A3 tank rounded the corner of the intersection, flattening Russian infantry, rebels, and militiamen. Its cannon found a target and fired, puffing smoke and shooting a powerful shell at the hostile tank.

  Buildings around the intersection began to collapse. Soldiers on all sides began to retreat. Nobody wanted to interfere with the battle of the cavalry.

  Smoke was becoming so dense that Zav had to back away from the window and cover his nose with his shirt.