Tarnus fires his pistol into the air grabbing everyone’s attention, and pushes down the instigator holding the pistol to his head. “You’re angry because you have Buzz in your body, and the logical response to you is more destruction towards the enemy. But I will not tolerate dissidence and fighting. Everyone, take DT now.” The NCO’s press a tab on their arm control panels.
We feel calm, blissfully high. I have no headache, and everything is simple and at ease.
“What’s next sir?” says Blake. We sit huddled around Tarnus.
“Let me ask Command,” says Tarnus. He leans to his radio, “Command, Command, this is Love Platoon, the enemy positions in our area are neutralized. We require pick up for KIA’s.”
“Copy that Love, will send extract. Group at point Alpha. We have successfully liberated this part of the city. Command out.”
Tarnus looks over at us, “Hear that boys. We control part of the city. This is Coalition turf. We won’t see any Herculeans for a little bit.” We rise and line up our fallen brothers into a neat row by where the Pave picked up our injured, cover their faces by slanting their helmets foreword over them, and leave to the checkpoint.
Our remaining platoon advances, following alongside a freeway that leads to downtown plaza where the remnants of the assault are gathering. A group of officers atop an APC are ordering units away into the city and telling others to rest. The once towering buildings and offices of the urban sprawl that circle the plaza are now piled on top of each other, or spill over into the streets as internal fires brew smoke from within. Soldiers and marines start to break away from their marching lines to sit against the sidewalks with others, or crawl up the rubble of the plaza to rest. The red battery tips of vapsticks light up throughout the smoke as hundreds of men began taking drags.
“Does anyone have any water?” says a man hoarsely as he walks down the line. Isaac and I follow behind him as we search for a place to sit.
We cross a marine with his helmet and boots off sitting on a prayer rug. He begins to move his water bladder from his camel pack to clean his feet.
“What the hell are you doing!” says the thirsty marine before us. “Give me that goddamn water, don’t waste it on you fucking feet you idiot.” The man grabs the bladder from his hand and walks off with it.
“Should we help him out?” says Isaac.
I shrug, “We’re all Marines together.”
We walk up to the confused man, who sits staring at his unclean feet. “Here, you can use some of my water.” I offer him a canteen of water filled from my bladder.
“Thank you,” says the marine as he takes my canteen. He drizzles a little onto his dirt caked feet.
“You know Peter, I have this dying question,” mentions Isaac.
I look back curious, “What’s that?”
“You know, with us being millions of miles away from Earth, and this planet rotating at a different circumference than ours,” the Muslim marine looks up in interest as Isaac continues, “What direction would Mecca be?”
I grin, “Well, you would probably need a rotating rug to be able to follow Mecca correctly from here I would think.”
We walk away from the marine on his mat back into the avenue of hundreds of men, losing sight of our platoon that must have continued on when we paused. Isaac calls back at the marine, “If you ever figure it out, let me know!”
“You’re a dick,” I say.
“It’s an honest question. I bet they’ll have to make a new Mecca here to solve the problem.”
“If this planet survives that long.”
Isaac grabs his ancients to smoke. I reach over and snag the box. “Hey I thought you didn’t smoke.” He snatches them back, flicking his thirteen colonies ablaze, and bringing an ancient to his mouth.
“Well, what you said is true, this war is going to kill me first, might as well enjoy it.” Isaac hands me one, lighting it for me and I take a drag but end up coughing. Isaac looks away to hide his smile, but I still hear him chuckle to himself. These are indeed nasty. But it also helps calm me down even more. It’s no secret that tobacco is infused with cannabis and other chemicals companies would rather not tell us. The yield in ancients today compared to when they were first made as cigarettes is much more potent and effective. And with also being high on DT, it makes a nice combo.
“Did you ever hear about those protesters back on campus?” I ask Isaac, knowing this conspiracy theory would be right up his alley. “The ones that claimed,” I tap the ancient on his helmet to clarify what I am talking about, “vapsticks, are infused with some chemical by the Party to try and control us?”
Isaac laughs. “Why do you think I smoke only natural?”
“You know I was joking?”
“Well it doesn’t matter anyway, they’re controlling me now.”
“True.”
We carry on down the avenue filling up with collapsing soldiers and marines. The way they drop themselves to the ground haphazardly makes it appear as if they’ve been taken down by an invisible assailant. An engine whines and moves our way, leading a convoy of giant trucks edging slowly through the crowd. Men near us pause to stare at the rear of the passing trucks, and we do too. Riding on the tail of the trucks are people in camouflaged biohazard suits. Behind them inside the beds are unrecognizable mounds of flesh. We follow the crowd some more and discover where the trucks are coming from. To our left is a huge pile of naked dead Herculeans and an equally big pile of their alien equipment next to them. People in biohazard suits grab the mostly mutilated corpses and toss them into the back of trucks. On a metal fencing post, sticking erect out of the ground by the corpse pile, is a planted Herculean head. Marines walking by spit on it. One marine completely stops though, dropping his stuff and kneeling by the head. He opens a book and begins reading out loud. It’s hard to hear what he’s saying, but as we move by him I am able to glance at the book within his hands: a large black book with a gold cross on it.
We catch up to Love that is beginning to unload their sacks. An officer—Lieutenant Colonel—standing on a Stryker assault vehicle in the middle of a nearby cross section directs forces. “Armor, down to the right, heavy enemy positions ahead…I need a platoon-strength force for detail.” The Colonel jumps down and comes to Tarnus. “Captain, take your company left, advance till Mendocino then go east, and clear the streets of Herculean stragglers. I sent a group up there earlier and they have not replied.”
“Sir!” says Tarnus, “I am still waiting on my remaining units. We are barely two fire squads strong.”
The Colonel looks back with puzzlement and replies, “You can wait here, send out one of your detachments then.”
We all wait, acting busy with something as Tarnus ponders who to send. He makes his decision and faces Blake. “Easy, you’re almost fully operational compared to the rest, head on out.”
“Yes sir!”
“Goddamn,” mutters Vance as we get back into a single file line. “We just got here.”
“Shut your whore mouth,” says Isaac, “we haven’t even sat down.”
The rest of our unit rises, putting gear and equipment we just took off back on, and flipping off the rest of Love as they catcall us. We follow behind Blake down the desolated streets that look no different than the all the others.
“We didn’t even get time to piss,” says Vick.
“Whatever, we can piss on a Herc when we kill it,” says Alex.
“I’ll piss in your mother’s mouth,” says Isaac, doing a jerking motion to him.
“Aren’t you a bunch of riled up marines,” says Blake.
Yeah, just by the click of a button.
XII
It’s quiet again. We walk carelessly though the ruins of the city as the DT runs carelessly through us. We cross countless streets while the skeletons of once great buildings watch. Drones hover above the wasteland, occasionally releasing missiles at unseen targets. Blake turns our unit down an expansiv
e avenue with white cheery trees lining each side. The avenue would look beautiful if not for war: potholes and upturned asphalt everywhere from ordinance, storefronts collapsed in on themselves, and trash and debris invading the lanes of demolished cars. The few standing cheery trees release their white petals into the air and they mix with the falling ash.
Blake raises his hand, and we stop on the alert against a street corner brick wall in front of the intersection, the street sign before us labeled Mendocino. “Alright, Private Peter and Julian, you will take the left and right lanes and advance cautiously. The rest of you form a fire position in the center avenue on me.”
We prepare to move, Blake calls out, “Switching you back to Buzz. Just in case.”
Peter and Julian begin their deadly dance down the avenue sidestepping obstacles and remaining alert as they hope for a fight. Peter hears rustling on his side from within an alleyway.
A Herculean?
Peter grins. This would put him at two confirmed kills, at least equal to Isaac. He places a hand on the edge of the wall and holds the XM tightly against his bicep with the other. Julian pauses on the other side of the lane and grabs cover waiting. Peter leans over into the alleyway, rifle poised and ready to hose away the filthy alien, but instead, a small tattered object comes stumbling down a pile of rubble to his feet.
It’s a little girl.
“Woah there, hey, don’t look so scared, I’m a good guy,” says Peter disappointedly. They both look at each other confused.
“What the hell is the hold up, Private!” says Blake down the avenue.
“A little girl ran in front of me!” says Peter. “What do I do?”
Julian sprints over to them and leans down to assist the girl. Peter determines she is probably no older than seven. Julian nudges him aside and tries to gently grab the shaking girl. She jumps back from his touch.
“Look like yours back on Earth?” Peter says, remembering that he mentioned he was a father.
“Just about the same age,” says Julian with a glowing grin.
Blake shouts out at them, “Well shit, it’s not safe out here! Tell her to go home.”
Julian and Peter stare at each other for a moment, then Julian looks back at the girl. “Alright, it’s dangerous out here, get home—” he falls on top of the little girl screaming. Plasma fire from down the avenue breaks out all around. Peter drops to his stomach crawling for the rubble. The little girl tries to crawl away too but Julian has pinned her legs.
“Take cover!” says Blake, “Suppressive fire!”
“GOD! Help!” Julian rolls over off the little girl smacking his limp leg where the fabric is on fire from a plasma bolt. The girl moves frantically away, and Peter stretches out his arm for her to crawl towards as he fires blindly at the Herculeans down the avenue. Asphalt flies up around them and her hair sizzles from being hit. She screams louder and cradles up against Julian’s side instead. Peter leans back into the alleyway for cover while he reloads. “Little girl, hey...” Julian tries hard to suppress a moan, “it’s going to be okay. Come here and hide under me.”
“I have to get back to my daddy! “You ca—”
Julian shrikes. Another burst has hit him in the lower back and he lies flat on his belly unable to move. His sack is blown away, the straps singed, and a black bubbling line forms over his back where the burst burned through. With stronger resolve and restraint in his voice he continues, “Come here little girl, you have to. I’ll protect you.”
“But the monsters are shooting you!”
Julian speaks quickly, “They won’t hurt you.”
“How do you know!” she says.
“Because you’re…you’re innocent.”
Peter roars a battle cry and steps out to save them. There is finally a fight to have with the Herculeans! He reaches out to grab the girl, but feels a sharp pain in his head and falls over confused. The world is blurry and his head hurts tremendously. His body lies useless on the ground. In his strained tunnel vision he can see his outstretched arm and hand yearning for Julian and the little girl. He tries talking but the words are mumbled.
“Are you going to live?” says the girl, cowering against Julian’s arm.
Julian has stopped talking, his limbs seizer about and steam rises from his wounds.
The girl shakes his arm. “If you don’t live my daddy won’t live! He was shot like you, will he get better? If you’ll live he will too!” Beams of light and returning bullets haze the air. The firefight is intensifying.
“Don’t look at them little girl,” says Julian. “Look at me, okay. I have a little girl like you too.” The girl grabs his twitching arm, hugging it tightly. Julian cries into her messy hair, “I’ll be fine. Your dad will live.”
A canister lands by their position and smoke fumes out rapidly turning the street into a white cloud with exploding lights. Alex reaches Peter and lifts him up. “Can you hear me man!” he says while giving him a morphine shot.
Peter’s head remains cloudy but things start to become coherent.
“You got grazed in the head,” says Alex, he holds the crushed bullet tip in his fingers before Peter. “Helmet saved your life.”
“Ju-Julian!” says Peter as he recollects himself. He gets up and rushes inside the smoke.
“Hold on!” says Alex.
“Cover me! I’m getting him,” says Peter.
“Peter,” it is Julian speaking very weakly. “Take her quick.” Peter comes to his side, assessing his wounds.
“I’m getting both of you out of here, can you get up?” says Peter pissed. “Those fucking Herc’s!”
Julian weeps bitterly with what little strength he has left, “No, no I can’t.”
That is no way to act like a warrior.
“Shut up Julian! I’m getting you out of here!” Peter finds the girl and raises her in his arm, and places his free hand on Julian’s collar to drag him.
A searing hot motion on Peter’s hand makes him let go and Julian cries out. Peter shakes his hot glove off as he turns around to Julian. His shoulder has been hit by another plasma burst, the dissipation splash slightly burning Peter’s hand. Yellow tissue on Julian’s shoulder hisses and bubbles as it pops and leaks out onto his burnt clothing, revealing white bone underneath. Blood pours out of Julian’s mouth while he opens it, “Go. Please.”
Tommy breaks into the smoke to help as well.
“Peter!” says Alex from the alleyway, “Get back to cover. Where’s Julian? We can get him.”
Peter points at the direction of his body through the smoke. “He’s hurt bad, I’ll take the girl you guys grab him.” Peter sprints away towards Blake’s voice, holding the girl close to his chest.
Isaac stops Peter as he exits the smoke through the intersection, and pulls him into cover. The rest of the unit is waiting in safety with them as Blake fires over the corner covering Alex and Tommy dragging Julian. Moments later the other two marines come back, Julian dragged by the shoulders and his head slumped over unnaturally.
Blake lobs a grenade down the avenue and turns to Easy, “Alright! We need to move down this road fucking fast back into friendly lines.”
Peter watches as Alex and Tommy heave Julian and carry his body with the leaving unit. “How is he?”
Alex mutters quickly as they pass, “Dead.”
“No, he was just talking to me.” The others solemnly break away from the firefight and begin running down the street. Herculean fire continues to zap through the smoke. Peter grabs Alex by his chest collar and stares at him, only seeing regret and anger in his eyes.
He really is dead. Those Herculeans! Peter’s body pulses with raised temperature, his muscles expanding outside of their figure. “We need to kill them! All of them!”
“Then we will all die!” says Blake. “There are too many of them, get the fuck in line and move out!”
The unit follows Blake, Peter stands idly by in the rear holding the little girl
. Isaac stays back with him too. “Come on Peter, let’s get out of here, they’ll be down the avenue any minute.” He pushes Peter and he follows reluctantly. The little girl quiet in his arms.
Peter rubs the underneath of his helmet to clear the sweat. “Shit man, I almost forgot about her.”
Sorties of jets zoom over them, and they feel the ground shake with their air strike against the encountered Herculeans. Isaac grabs Peter’s shoulder as they sprint away, “Let me see the girl.”
Peter stops. “Why are you asking that?”
“I think she’s dead, bud.”
“What are you talking about?” Shock rises through Peter’s throat, chocking his breathing. He extend his arms out, the girl is limp. Her dress is tattered and bloody. A dark gore stain stands out on Peter’s chest. He turns her head to see the bold spot from the plasma fire. There is a large burnt depression in her scalp. His knees lose strength, and he falls to them holding the girl out to Isaac. He takes her and Peter collapses onto the ground.
Pull yourself together warrior.
“My head! Fuck! Fuck! Stop!” Peter slams his fist into the ground and tosses his helmet off. He tries to rip his vest off too. “Why does it hurt!”
“What the hell is going on marine!” says Blake.
“She’s gone! They must of hit her, I didn’t, but,” I forget how to speak. The world rushes pass me and I can’t take it all in. And the bullet Alex showed me, it was friendly fire. They stopped me from saving Julian!
Isaac places her down on the street. I feel water on my cheeks and the world is blurry. I try wiping away the tears, but blood mixes in with it from my gory sleeve.
It’s her blood.
It’s too much! Mucus and bile form in my mouth. I cough it out against the pavement as I crawl to the wall for support.
“Alright, get up, you’re a Marine,” says Blake kneeling beside me. “We got to be strong here. We got to keep moving.”
I spit out the fluids in my mouth, a stringy mess that sticks against my lips and chin. Blake hands me a handkerchief and I wipe my face. I look over at the dead girl. The other guys fidget around anxiously to get moving away from the Herculeans, or towards them to fight.
Travesty (SolarSide Book 1) Page 13
