by John Bowers
“You guys cover me! Spray those storefronts alongside the restaurant, but make sure I’m not in your line of fire.”
Both men nodded and shifted their fire, ripping into the pet store and hair salon. Nick leaped up and raced toward the bottom of the L, angling away from the restaurant so the machine gunners, hopefully, wouldn’t see him. His boots crunched on broken glass and he leaped over a pair of dead rebels, his nose wrinkled at the smell of burning flesh. He was taking a calculated risk—more rebels could be hiding in some of the shops ahead of him—but the fire was spreading fast and anyone inside would have to seek escape if they wanted to live. No one had fired yet, and he was hoping they were either already dead or had evacuated.
He reached the hair salon at a dead run and skidded to a stop, dropping to one knee as he tugged another grenade off his belt.
“Concentrate on that gunner,” he said into his helmet. “Keep him busy while I get closer.”
Rising to a crouch, ducking his head away from the intense heat, he moved carefully forward, inching toward the restaurant. The smoke was thick now, choking, and he marveled even more that the rebels were still alive. Fifteen feet from the restaurant, he stopped and pulled the pin on his grenade. The gun had stopped firing, and for a moment he thought the grenade might not be necessary. He held down the arming lever until the enemy gun resumed fire, its muzzle flash marking its position.
Nick tossed the grenade, then ran thirty feet back the way he had come and ducked. The grenade exploded with a muffled roar, blowing flame across the walkway; he thought he heard a cry of pain, but couldn’t be sure.
The gun didn’t fire again.
Fifteen seconds later, the restaurant’s roof collapsed. Almost the entire building was now engulfed, and the roof collapsed in two more places; if anyone was inside, they were—literally—toast.
Nick backed away from the building. The heat was overpowering. The entire structure on both sides of the L now blazed like a giant fireplace, flame rolling and swirling. Sparks leaped into the breeze to be carried toward the homes across the street; two or three embers lighted on his shirt and he slapped them away, sweat rolling down his face. DuBose joined him in the parking lot and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Good work, Walker.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think it made much difference. Those rebs were about to get cooked anyway.”
DuBose turned and looked back across the parking lot. A corpsman was bent over Pvt. Singh, who was twisting in pain from a leg wound. Jimmy Chin lay still, blood pooled around him. Near the supermarket, Diego Mateo also lay motionless. Nick stared at them with a sinking sensation.
“Are they dead?”
“Yeah, all except Singh. He’ll be out of action for a while. I want you to take Mateo’s team. Take Hall and Carlson, too.”
“Why me? I’m the same rank as they are.”
“I’ll ask the captain to bump you up to corporal, but in the meantime—”
“The hell you will! I don’t want to be a corporal.”
“Why not?”
“That would make me responsible for three other people, and I can barely take care of myself.”
DuBose blinked at him, surprised and maybe a little annoyed.
“Okay, fine, but take the fire team anyway.”
“Why me? Why not Kopycat?”
“Because I want you to, okay? Goddammit, don’t argue with me, just do it!”
Nick sighed and nodded.
“Okay, but just for today. First chance you get, find somebody else.”
“Fine.”
“Where do we go next?”
DuBose pointed.
“Lieutenant Jaeger wants us to move over to the next block and start moving toward the center of town. This objective went down a lot faster than we expected, in spite of losing two men. Most of the Freaks bailed out the back when the P-guns hit; Second Squad intercepted most of them, but a few got past and retreated to the west. We’ll link up with Second Squad and head toward the high school, which is about five blocks west of here. That’s the next strongpoint on the map.”
“Wasn’t there a strongpoint directly south of us?”
“Yeah, but India is all over it. The high school is near the city center, and we’ve identified at least three enemy positions in that area. If the Freaks are falling back, they’ll probably bunch up there.”
Nick nodded and gazed at the burning shopping center again. It was now a pile of flaming rubble, no longer resembling a building. He was glad the P-guns had rendered the Freaks helpless in this instance, but it seemed a shame that, in order to save the town from the enemy, they had to destroy it.
Chapter 10
When it came to urban warfare, Nick preferred moving down back alleys rather than streets; streets offered little cover, but back alleys were generally narrow and cluttered. Alleys could provide cover to the enemy, but also to the Star Marines, and it was easier to spot a suspected position as you approached it. Streets, on the other hand, were lined on both sides by houses which looked innocuous but could be hiding dozens of enemy troops. And houses had wide fields of fire.
The alley behind the shopping center was largely obstructed by flaming debris, so Nick led his fire team past it to the next street, where he crouched next to a stone fence to survey the situation.
He felt awkward giving orders to the men with him, but somebody had to be in charge and DuBose had chosen him. Fire teams usually consisted of four men, but now they were five. With three men down in two fire teams, it only made sense to consolidate the survivors. Nick had a good rapport with Hall and Carlson, and they seemed happy enough that he was leading them.
DuBose had joined Wiebe’s SAW team and was moving up behind them.
As he knelt by the fence, Nick could hear firing to the west of his location, and also to the south. India Company was taking on a strongpoint south of him, with Hotel on their flank. To his west, 2nd Squad was apparently engaged with survivors from the shopping center. Nick needed to link up with them, but wasn’t sure how far away they were…and didn’t want to get ambushed on the way to meet them.
He didn’t like the look of the street in front of him. It was a beautiful residential neighborhood, but that meant wide streets with very little cover. He saw at least nine houses on the other side that could be hiding enemy gunners. Anyone moving along the sidewalk would be an easy target.
Panting, he wiped his eyes, peered at the street again, and turned to his men.
“Okay, fuck this. We are not going down that street. Kopycat, I want you, Hall, and Carlson to clear this corner house, then cover the street until I call you. Go in the back door and check every room. Any or all of these houses could be occupied, so keep alert and fire only when you have to. If you see anything moving on the street, sound the alarm and open up on them.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m taking Rudy through the backyards—when we get to the middle of the block, I’ll call you to come and join us, then we’ll leapfrog on down the block.”
“If the houses are occupied, won’t we be trapping ourselves?”
“That is a risk, but our immediate objective is to link up with Second Squad, and after that we’ll be in better shape to defend ourselves.” Nick looked back down the side street toward the alley. He pointed. “Use that gate to gain access to the backyard. We’ll cover you until you breach the house, then we’ll head out.”
Kopshevar sucked a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay. Good luck, Nick.”
The five of them backtracked a dozen yards to the wrought-iron gate that opened in the stone fence. Kopshevar took the lead. With Hall and Carlson on his heels, he swept the backyard with his rifle, then moved toward the rear patio of the house. Nick and Aquino took up position thirty feet behind them, watching the windows as Kopshevar smashed the glass in the rear patio door. Kopshevar and his two men surged into the house and began to spread out. Nick waited until he heard the all clear.
&n
bsp; He and Rudy Aquino crossed the backyard to the next house. This one had no fence, so they pushed through a screen of flowered vines and emerged onto a grassy lawn littered with children’s toys. Smoke drifted over them from the burning shopping center, which was only twenty yards to their right. They pressed against the side of the house as they approached the patio, then Nick risked a glance through the back door. He saw nothing—if the Freaks were in there, at least they weren’t shooting at him.
He briefly considered tossing a couple of grenades into the house, but hated to cause destruction that wasn’t necessary. And there was the risk of hitting civilians, which he wanted to avoid.
Except for the patio door, the rear windows were small and up high; he crouched low and trotted past the patio, under the rear windows, and reached the third house on the street. Aquino covered him until he stopped, then caught up with him. The third house had a backyard fence, this one about four feet high and made of wood. Nick didn’t see a gate, and the next yard looked clear, so with Aquino covering him, he placed one hand on top of the fence and vaulted over it. He had barely hit the ground when he heard a gasp of fear from the patio door.
He spun to face the threat, but held his fire. The patio door was halfway open and a woman stood in the gap, her face white with fear. She stared at him in utter shock, her mouth working silently. Nick quickly put a finger to his lips, turned his rifle away from her, and approached. She was about fifty, slightly grey, slightly overweight. She was panting with stress.
“Have you seen any rebel soldiers?” he asked in a low voice. “Is anyone in your house?”
“No one is here but me and my husband.” She was shaking so hard she barely got the words out.
“Where is your husband?”
“I think he’s in the bathroom. I just came out to see if the fire is coming this way.”
“Don’t worry about the fire. The shopping center collapsed and it doesn’t seem to be spreading. What about the enemy? Have you seen any?”
“No. You’re the first person I’ve seen since all those explosions hit the shopping center.”
“What about the other houses on the street? Any activity around them?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Are the owners still around?”
“Some of them are, but I’m not sure how many. This all happened so fast, we didn’t know where to go.”
“Okay, the best thing for you to do is stay put and stay low. Crawl under the beds if you want to, but keep away from the windows and for god’s sake, don’t go outside.”
She nodded in a jerky fashion, hope competing with fear in her eyes.
“Okay. Okay. But…what if they come back?”
“If anyone comes back, it will just be stragglers. We came here to kill them, and when we’re done, the town will be safe again.”
But not necessarily still standing, he didn’t add.
Still panting with fear, she seemed calmed by his words. She nodded again.
“Thank you. And God bless you!”
Nick nodded. “Get back inside now, and stay under cover. When the town is clear, there will be an announcement of some kind, but it may not be until tomorrow.”
Without another word, the woman faded back into the house and closed the patio door. Nick turned to Aquino, who had also vaulted the fence.
“The lady said her house is clear, and she hasn’t seen any Freaks on the street lately. But we do everything the same, just in case.”
Aquino nodded.
“Okay, Nick. Lead the way.”
Rudy Aquino looked rattled most of the time, but now his breathing was regular and he seemed less jittery. Nick patted him on the shoulder and they moved forward again. They checked two more houses without finding anyone, then kicked in the back door of the sixth house. Nick went in first with Aquino right behind him. They moved from room to room. The place seemed deserted. They moved down a hallway toward the bedrooms. Nick pushed into one and Rudy entered the one opposite.
“FUCK!”
Pop-po-po-po-po-pop!
Nick nearly jumped out of his skin when Rudy shouted and ripped off six rounds. Nick heard shattering glass and spun around to find Rudy still in the bedroom doorway, panting so hard he was practically hyperventilating. He looked over his shoulder at Nick.
“I thought it was a Freak,” he explained in a weak voice. “I just killed a mirror.”
Nick stared in disbelief, then started laughing. Powder smoke filled the empty bedroom, which looked undamaged except for a mirror on the far wall, which had been shot to pieces. Nick leaned against the door jamb and braced himself to keep from falling, laughing harder than he had in months. It wasn’t really that funny, but the tension and stress magnified it.
“Hey, man, you can’t tell nobody about this, okay?” Rudy’s face was glowing red. “If you tell, I’ll never live this down.”
Nick tried to answer, but couldn’t. He sucked a deep breath and let out another peal of laughter, tears running down his cheeks. Rudy Aquino had seen his own reflection and opened fire. It could have happened to anybody, but it had happened to Rudy. It was the kind of story combat troops love to repeat.
“Come on, Nick, promise me! You can’t tell no one.”
Nick nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. With an effort, he regained his breath and hung an arm around Rudy’s shoulders.
“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry, but that’s funny. You have to admit that’s funny.”
Rudy, still red-faced, started to grin. After a moment he allowed himself a chuckle.
“Yeah, okay, it’s funny, but—”
“Don’t worry. It’s our secret. Just try not to kill any more innocent mirrors.”
The house had no basement, so with the rooms clear, Nick deemed it safe. He got on his helmet comm.
“Kopycat, bring your people down to the sixth house. Use the backyards and be careful—we’ve encountered at least one civilian and there may be more. The street still looks clear.”
Kopshevar replied in the affirmative. Two minutes later, he rapped on the patio glass before entering the house. Hall and Carlson were right behind him.
“Three more houses on this block,” Nick told him. “Once Rudy and I clear those, you can join us again. I think Second Squad is pretty close, from all the gunplay in that direction. I’ll call you.”
“Got it.”
Kit Carlson and David Hall manned the front windows of the house. Nick and Rudy returned to the backyard and turned toward the next house west of them. This one sported a small, three-foot picket fence that extended only halfway to the alley. Nick and Rudy went around it. A tool shed sat on the back of the lot, right against the alley. Their path around the fence brought them within a few feet of it, and Nick stopped. He dropped to one knee and motioned Rudy to do the same. He was picking up a smell…roasted flesh and singed hair. His pulse accelerated as he inched closer.
The shed door was slightly ajar; the smell seemed to emanate from inside. He thumbed the bottom of his helmet to retract the noise-suppression pads over his ear. As soon as he did, he heard the sound of whimpering. He glanced back at Rudy and pointed, then gave a hand signal—cover me! Rudy, eyes wide, nodded. Rudy rose to a half crouch and trained his rifle at the shed, but held his fire. Keeping low, Nick crept closer to the shed until he was only two or three feet away.
“Throw out your weapons!” he shouted. “Do it now, or I’ll open fire!”
He heard what sounded like a slap, skin on skin—as if someone had clapped a hand over someone else’s mouth—and the whimpering stopped. But whoever was inside couldn’t control their breathing, which sounded harsh and strained. He waited five or six seconds, but nothing happened.
“Last chance! Throw out your weapons or you’re going to get a grenade!”
Five more seconds.
Nothing.
Nick fired two rounds into the shed at about head height.
“Okay, asshole, you asked for it! Fire in the hole!”
Nick didn’t have a grenade in his hand, but “Fire in the hole” was the universal warning that one was on the way; he hoped that would be enough.
It was.
“Wait!” The voice was weak, gasping. “Don’t throw it! We’re coming out!”
“Weapons first! Throw ‘em out!”
“We don’t…have any weapons. We’re unarmed.”
“All right, if you’re lying you’re dead. One at a time, real slow, come out of the shed. I’m not fucking around!”
He heard the whimpering again. The shed door quivered, then creaked as someone pushed it open from the inside. Nick stood and held his rifle aimed directly at the opening. The first thing that emerged was a head…or something similar to a head. It was red, raw, and blackened, with no visible hair. Nick winced as he saw the blistered flesh hanging from the face. The body followed, painfully slow, crawling on its elbows because the arms no longer had skin on them. The upper body was also bare and blistered, with just a few remnants of burned cloth clinging to it. The soldier had been wearing a white shirt.
The sight reminded him of a barbecued pig, swollen and blistered and oozing. The rebel soldier was sobbing with pain, but pulled himself agonizingly clear of the shed.
“Stop,” Nick told him. “How many more are in there?”
“Two,” the rebel whispered. “But I think…I think—one of them is dead.”
Nick studied the man for a moment. He was clearly unarmed, too badly burned to even hold a weapon, and without enough clothing to hide one. He stepped forward and pressed against the side of the shed, keeping his rifle on the wounded man. He peered into the shed, where the stench was overpowering. Fighting against his gag reflex, he identified two more forms in the dim light. One lay absolutely still, the arms bent at the elbows and curled up in the classic pose of someone who has burned to death. The other was still breathing, but his face was obscured by black, blistered skin that had swollen so badly Nick couldn’t even tell where the eyes were…or had been.
“Rudy, cover this guy, but don’t kill him.”
He stepped inside the shed and looked around. A thin sliver of daylight framed a larger door that opened onto the alley, which explained how the rebels got into the shed. Nick checked the corners for threats, but the shed contained only a few lawn tools. He knelt beside the rebel that was still breathing.
