by A W Wang
This is a conundrum I don’t need. Walt’s a member of my new family, and besides being loyal to him, my job is to get him out of here alive. Regardless of any prior incidents.
Time to act the part of a team leader.
Folding my hands on my lap, I reply, “Sure. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Walt nods, biting his lip, his eyes happy with my approval.
“Brin, do you want to hear about your first date with high school nerd boy?” Suri says, anxious to switch subjects.
I scrunch my lips. The memories Suri wants to recite are as good as gone.
And the remaining ones are crumbling into ash. How long they last or if my morality still remains after they’ve disintegrated, I have no idea.
What will I become without them?
I draw an angry breath.
What’s better for Walt isn’t better for me. I’ve lost good things too, like how I learned to stay loyal and love my family and friends. While the virtual overlords want me to forget who I am, it’s not in my or the team’s best interests.
I have to save a piece of myself.
“That’s enough for today’s stories. Practice would be better. Walt, you need a refresher course for moving in cover, right?”
The teen smiles. “I need a lot of things.”
“Then, we’ll be practicing a lot of things,” I reply, forcing a grin.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Suri says.
As we stand and head out of the barracks, I focus on the man in the hospital room, determined to preserve the image against the might of the virtual overlords.
However, inevitability weighs on my soul with each passing step because deep down, I know only a matter of time will pass before my prior life is lost, just like I know practice will only delay the loss of my friends.
But, no matter what happens, I’ll never surrender.
Twenty-Eight
The first orange wisps of dawn creep into the sky, and the chaos of the night ends. I’m not sorry to see the darkness leave.
In the faint light, an accusing expression graces the pretty heart-shaped face. I don’t understand why; quite a few scenarios have passed since I’ve slain the girl with the violet eyes. With an unsteady hand, I wrench my knife from her chest and gently let her body sink into the murky water, feeling relief when her sightless stare disappears below the floating patches of algae.
Rules are rules and dead is dead, and yet…
Without a ready answer, I return my focus to the battle because I have bigger problems than a strange sense of guilt over killing her again.
The miasma of the swampland smells like rotten eggs infused with equal measures of blood and death, but I take a deep breath to steady my fears.
As the leader, I’ve been separated from my splintered team and that’s turned the scenario into a crap sandwich. The chaotic night skirmish has destroyed the other six teams from my side, and the few stragglers are being hunted. It’s taken every bit of my intuition and training to keep things from completely unraveling.
I’m terrified of losing any of my friends.
Heavy discharges from AK-47s chatter among the tangles between the drooping cottonwood and tall cypress trees a hundred meters in front of me. The fusillade dies as quickly as it started. Without insects in this virtual environment, an unnatural stillness falls over everything.
My wool uniform clings to my skin with an uncomfortable dampness.
I push my wet hand past the collar and rub along my sweaty nape. Then, poking my head above the stalks of the surrounding vegetation, I assess the situation.
“Take a gander at the bright side, you can at least save some of your team,” says my sidekick.
“Shut up, Corporal Sunshine,” I reply.
“Hey, when did you demote me again?”
“Just now.”
“Well, like you said, it’s a real crap sandwich, but you can do it! Not like you have any choice.”
Not helping…
In spite of being exasperating, my optimistic inner voice is correct. It’s my responsibility to save the situation.
As I slide the knife into my belt sheath, I motion to Jock, who has fought well and doggedly remained with me throughout the worst of the fighting.
When his boots sink into the mud at my side, the brackish water sloshes past my legs and into the stalks of grass surrounding the violet-eyed girl.
Before I can fret too much about her corpse resurfacing, Jock says between broken breaths, “I would never have expected them to attack that way.”
“Neither did I.” But it’s not his or anyone else’s job to anticipate these things, it’s mine and I’ve failed miserably. The opposition only needed to defend a set of boulders. Instead, they attacked leaving my forces shattered from a hammer and anvil assault.
Expect the unexpected.
I nibble on a wet and dirty nail, ignoring the awful taste.
Jock gently takes my finger and pulls it from my mouth. It’s the first time he’s ever deliberately touched me. His large hands are surprisingly soft. “Relax, Brin,” he says. “Under the worst circumstances, you made the best decisions possible. We’re still in this fight because of you. And now, you’re the only one who can get us out of this mess. Don’t worry, it’ll be the same as a nice walk through the sanctuary.”
“Exactly. Except for the noxious air and the flying bullets,” I reply, neglecting to mention our elite enemy.
He nods. “I’ve been through a lot worse. I just wish I could remember what it was.” A reassuring smile follows the last word.
Somehow, the expression reminds me of my husband. At least from what’s left of my real-world memories.
When I respond with a tense grin, he points beyond the boundary of the tree line to three boulders carved in the shape of obelisks. They are about a kilometer away in a wide clearing illuminated by eerie patches of phosphorescence. “Their base should be undefended.”
That’s the obvious choice. By attacking us, their defenses should be empty. Should be. Against these enemies, I can’t make the mistake of conventional thinking again.
Expect the unexpected.
“Either the place is booby trapped or they have an ambush ready,” I reply. The enemy could be regrouping for a final attack too. In the murkiness of dawn, it’s impossible to tell.
More waves spill beyond my boots as Jock shifts his stance. The pale outline of the girl ripples under the water.
Keeping my focus away from my guilt, I sweep my arm in a wide arc. “Our team is spread over the flat swamp past that patch of trees.”
“What about Syd?”
He’s still alive, I’m sure, doing his own thing, which is killing me in my position as a leader. With his talents, we could have already won this scenario. “I have no idea,” I answer while forcing the bitterness from my voice.
Jock refrains from giving another pep talk. Brows knitted, he searches through his threads and experiences trying to help.
I’m not surprised when no suggestion is forthcoming.
A burst of gunfire signals the renewal of hostilities.
“Let’s move. We’ll swing around the clearing toward the fighting. It’s getting light enough to look for signs of a sniper or ambush defending the boulders. We might get lucky.” I hate myself for the compromise, but until I know more, avoiding a firm decision is the best course of action.
Jock nods as if he believes I know what I’m doing.
I unsling my AK-47, the perfect weapon for this filthy map, and snap check it. After I’m satisfied, I rise. Crouching, I push into the tall grass while avoiding the girl’s body.
Jock follows a moment later.
As we push ahead, the morning sun pokes over the low-lying flora and casts soft beams of light between tree trunks and their interwoven branches. The effect creates lengthy and confusing shadows across the surrounding grass and water, while under our boots, the muck of the swamp grabs at each of our plodding steps.
&nbs
p; Sporadic cracks of gunfire spill past our cautious advance. We hunch low to the murky surface. “There,” Jock whispers, pointing at several flashes to our left.
Before he can move, I grab his shoulder. “That’s one of us. Sweep around the side.”
As we hustle to navigate a quieter path to the rear of our enemies, I scan for signs of ambush.
Jock disappears, splashing off into tall masses of brownish reeds.
“Hey,” I hiss. After he doesn’t respond, I noisily trail after him.
More chaotic gunfire erupts.
I head toward a patchwork of sedges interspersed between thick cypress trees. As several bullets whiz past me, skipping off the water and scything through nearby stalks of grass, I freeze.
Heavy footsteps splash from my right.
I swivel and raise my rifle.
Ally bursts through a thick curtain of reeds. Spatters of mud add to the freckles on her face, and her blue eyes are wide, but she’s otherwise uninjured.
Sighing in relief, I lower my weapon and point to the obvious trail. “Jock’s ahead.”
She tightens her lips and nods, understanding the need for a heightened fire discipline.
I lead her down the path of broken vegetation.
Before we get far, we hear the wet thud of a knife spearing into soft tissue. A gurgle and splash follow.
Abandoning our caution, Ally and I run under the hanging branches of a cottonwood tree and onto a thick mat of grass.
Jock returns, putting away his knife. “That was the ambush team,” he proudly announces.
He’s trying to fix each of my mistakes by himself. “Don’t take unnecessary chances.”
“That’s nothing,” he says in a cavalier tone.
“We handle this together. As a team.” No more time for admonishment. “How many did you kill?”
He holds up three fingers.
“That’s not anywhere near all of them,” I say.
Although the harsh statement is unwarranted, his nonchalant attitude bothers me. Taking on three opponents in the current crap-storm qualifies as an unnecessary risk.
He doesn’t answer.
“You okay?” I indicate a rip in his left sleeve.
“Nothing that winning this scenario won’t cure.” He flashes another wide smile.
For some reason, I don’t find the confidence reassuring and even with Ally, my trepidations remain.
I shake my head and edge past a fat tree trunk to a thicket growing along an embankment. Using the extra light from the full ball of the sun, I peer over the brambles to survey the battle.
Cursing, I kneel back into the muck.
“What’s wrong?” Ally says, rushing to me.
Without responding, I bite the corner of my thumbnail.
Two hundred meters away, in the golden hue pouring over the depressing brown and gray of the swampland, an ambush is waiting.
And Suri is leading the surviving members of the team right into it.
Twenty-Nine
The inevitable course of events unfolds in my mind. Fourteen of the enemy lie in wait. Heading into the L-shaped deathtrap, Suri leads a group of six strong. The outcome is simple math. A few moments after the shooting starts, Suri and her people will be dead.
There is no way to save everyone without Syd. I search my virtual memories trying to figure out where he is.
He’s been having relations with Suri, which has to count for something. I think. Then again, knowing Syd, he probably doesn’t care.
I grind my teeth in frustration.
“The rocks are unprotected,” Ally says.
This I know, but almost a thousand meters of boggy swamp lies between us and the goal. “We’ll never get there in time.”
“But we’ll win.”
I swivel to face her. “That’s Suri, Walt, and Vela.”
While Ally scrunches her lips into a tight circle, Jock says, “Brin, think clearly on this.”
My mind races around the simple problem. Take the easy path to the trio of obelisks and let Suri and the others fend for themselves. Or rescue our friends against superior numbers, come what may.
“I have to try to save them,” I whisper.
“Brin,” Ally says.
I raise my hand to stop further discussion. “If anyone wants to go to the objective by themselves, there won’t be any hard feelings. I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, but I need to help my friends.”
Jock laughs. “We’re soldiers. This is what we do for a living.”
A moment passes before Ally pushes out a grim smile. Despite the mud dusting her freckles, the expression makes her too cute to be a soldier. “I have an awful feeling about this, but they would do the same for us.”
I release a breath I had no idea was lodged in my throat. “Okay, it’s settled.”
Except for the killing and dying.
“No worries. We got this,” Jock says with his newfound and annoying overconfidence.
I grab his arm. “Don’t get too cocky. With all the racket you made taking down the sniper team, they’ll be sending someone to investigate.”
His touch is warm as he peels away my grip. Instead of letting go, his fingers circle my palm. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
Although I want to believe him, and for the moment to last longer, it’s time for action. I pull my hand from his grasp. “Let’s move. Stay low and be careful.”
With light splashes coming from my movements, I quickly enter the wide patch of flat-topped cottonwoods and tall cypress trees.
Jock trots next to me. “Suri will hold things together long enough for us to rescue them.”
Although he has a point, I’m worried about the hundred things besides Suri that could go wrong.
I blow out my exasperation. Despite my adrenaline rush from the impending contact, I’m even more tired and stressed than ever.
Damn it all.
Tall reeds ripple to our front.
Spying a two-person scout team, I kneel and signal a halt. Both have higher scores than four.
Not having the time for a drawn-out battle against such formidable enemies, I get Jock and Ally’s attention, then sling my rifle and yank out my knife. After they draw their own knives, I motion for them to protect the flanks.
Crouching almost to my knees, I creep past thick clumps of grass and into a shallow channel covered with spots of green algae. As I avoid gnarled roots from the cypress trees, the water deepens to the top of my boots.
While the threads enable me to navigate the swamp in silence, my understanding and intuition of the current situation determine the direction and pacing of my actions. For everything I hate about Syd, he’s right about one thing—I’m better than anyone at processing and choosing from the competing information.
Trusting to Suri’s skills, I roll slowly into the chilly water, only stopping when the algae laps around my face. Then I take a deep breath before sinking into the muddy bottom.
The ripples distorting the overhanging branches and patches of green die as the water stills.
I wait, listening to my heart thump, until the surroundings tremble from dull vibrations. Grabbing a root, I back into the wide base of the cypress tree and twist my head to watch the channel.
My fingers tense around the knife handle when a boot splashes two meters from my face.
Too far away for a quick kill.
While my lungs beg for air, I stay motionless, watching the outline of my enemy shimmer through the water’s surface.
When he takes a tentative step, I angle and thrust my legs at him. My boots catch either side of his knee, and I twist.
He crashes into the channel.
I pop to my knees and suck in a blessed lungful of air.
Sloshing his boots into the muck, the man struggles to escape.
Before he succeeds, I land on him with my shoulder plowing into his back and pinning his AK underwater. My free hand drives the knife into his side. As he flails, I jam and wrench the blade fu
rther into his body, damaging as many internal organs as possible.
Torrents of blood spill over my forearm and foul the surrounding water as his thrashing weakens.
Rustles come from behind me.
I flop to the side, sinking into the muck and propping up my victim as a shield just before his partner emerges from behind a tree.
Ally springs from the undergrowth and stabs into the back of her neck. The woman spasms as Ally guides her dying body onto a patch of mud.
Even though my victim lies motionless, I hold his head underwater for a few seconds before yanking out the knife.
“Jock?” Ally mouths, sheathing her blade.
Reddish water rolls off me as I rise and survey the area.
Splashes come from my left.
“Crap! Move,” I say.
Loud, heavy cracks from AK-47s echo through the trees as we stumble through the channel, avoiding roots and stray rocks.
“That’s the ambush,” Ally says.
Angrily, I nod. That’s where Jock is heading, foolishly trying to save everyone by himself. Clenching my teeth, I force back a scream. “Come on.”
Abandoning good sense for speed, we add urgency to our steps, creating loud splashes as we zigzag under hanging branches and around twisted tree trunks.
At the edge of the trees, Jock fires, distracting the ambushers from Suri’s team.
I crash into the thick base of a cottonwood, and wiping wet strands of hair from my face, peer across the open ground. Heated gunfire from two directions pins Suri’s group behind a rise of grass. Thanks to Jock’s intervention, they’re still alive. At least for the moment.
The heavy stock of the rifle thumps against my shoulder as I empty the magazine, the bullets landing in a loose arc around the ambushers.
Ally arrives as I reload and fires in a more controlled fashion, actually trying to hit something.
Large 7.62mm rounds pop into the nearby trees, showering us in wood splinters. I hunker closer to the ground and cover my eyes. Although our weapons aren’t the most accurate at distance, the enemy are experts at maximizing their value.
