He Was Not Prepared (Birth Of Heavy Metal Book 1)

by Michael Todd

  Sal raised his rifle and fired a few shots into the mass of animals. It appeared that they felt their press had lost momentum and the time had come to retreat and regroup. More questions, he noted, but was thankful for the reprieve. He pushed the spare rifle into Davis’ hands since it looked like the man was empty.

  “What’s the situation?” the squad leader demanded.

  Sal answered before anybody else could. “We’ve got one fatality, and one man injured.”

  Davis looked at the corpse of his squad mate.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  Sal felt a little like he would be reincarnated as an ocean slug in his next life. “I…I’m not sure.”

  The sergeant jogged over and looked at the body. He closed the man’s eyes and withdrew the dog tags from beneath his armor. “It’s Richards,” Davis said, his voice even. The silence that greeted the words was all that needed to be said.

  The animals had retreated beyond his limited line of sight, and Sal saw some of the larger animals drag the bodies of their dead away. Well, that was one mystery solved, he mused, and tucked the mental image away for later study.

  Addams moved to help the wounded man.

  “You all right there, Rodriguez?” Cortez asked.

  The soldier lifted a hand with a single finger raised. Cortez tried to laugh, but it sounded empty.

  “There’s not much I can do here, man,” Addams muttered as he inspected the man’s wounds.

  “Just go,” Rodriguez hissed through gritted teeth. “I can probably hold them back and buy you guys a few minutes.”

  “That won’t happen,” Davis said, his booming deep voice heard by every member of the team. “No man is ever left behind. Not if I can help it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kennedy nodded, and Sal steeled himself. He turned to see Monroe hold Richards’ sidearm with both hands, as uncomfortable with it as Sal had first felt.

  “Set up a defensive perimeter,” Kennedy snapped. She rolled her neck and pushed a few errant strands of brown hair out of her face. “I want to see all lines of approach covered by at least one gun. That means you too, Jacobs. Monroe, help Addams tend to Rodriguez. The rest of you, get your rears in gear. I don’t want any more sneak attacks. Keep your heads on a swivel and stay frosty.”

  Sal nodded. It was impossible to say why, but for some reason, he almost preferred the moments when they fought for their lives. During the lulls in combat, he had more time to think about how much trouble they were in and how heavy his legs felt. The adrenaline drained slowly from his system, and his hands shook as a vague sense of nausea churned in his stomach.

  He patted Monroe on the shoulder in passing, and she squeezed his hand lightly in response. The interaction stirred a small surge of relief.

  The jungle had suddenly gone suspiciously quiet. The monsters had broken their pursuit, but it didn’t feel like they had abandoned it. This felt more like the eye of the storm. The moment of rest wasn’t restful at all. Sal couldn’t allow himself to relax.

  His mouth felt dry, and he resisted a sudden need to void his bowels. A few studies in his sophomore year in college taught him that it was the first indication that the body prepared for a fight or flight reaction. It was natural and not something he should feel embarrassed about. All this shit was new to him, and as much as he wanted to earn his place among the gunners, he knew that he barely made a difference. He wasn’t DPS or Tank, to put it in terms that he actually understood. He was strictly support, and didn’t seem to do that very well either. He needed to up his game.

  Sal tried to keep his mind off the fact that the noise level inside the Zoo had increased. The sounds were different, though, as if an earthquake had a voice. He could feel the ground shake but not in time with bipedal footsteps as he’d originally feared. This was something constant which grew in intensity and drew closer by the second.

  “I have movement,” Cortez shouted. “Ten o’clock, twenty mikes.”

  Mikes? Sal wondered but had had no time to think further. “Movement over here too.”

  In a few seconds, he could see a swarm of the massive locusts. They were even larger this time, almost as big as mastiffs. That wasn’t possible by the laws of physics either, but Sal had learned to put that behind him for the moment. Studying came later. Right now, he had to be a gunner first and a specialist second.

  The swarm suddenly surged, leapt forward, and moved fast. For the first time, the animals’ movements made sense. Locusts weren’t aggressive creatures by nature, and whatever they did there resembled what a swarm would do when it was threatened.

  Shots fired from the far side of the line seemed to spark a reaction in the creatures. Sal couldn’t help but remember how placid and friendly the single one had been that he’d encountered only the day before. Or was it two days ago? He couldn’t spare the time to check the HUD clock as the swarm approached. They were packed so closely together that it didn’t matter where he aimed. An almost two-meter tsunami of angry, giant insects raced toward them. Sal didn’t blame the person who fired first and almost wished he’d had the guts to do it. He had one full mag in his rifle and a couple that he’d looted from Richards.

  “Move close together and make a circle,” Davis called, and Sal felt a hand drag him backward. What was left of the team now fought back to back as the swarm closed in on them rapidly with an angry buzz. The sound literally shook the ground. Sal wondered if the massive swarm that had caused the Zoo to expand so quickly had possibly become this wave of winged fury.

  “Hold formation!” Kennedy shouted as the swarm breached the squad’s comfort zone and the entire team of five opened fire at the same time. The armor-piercing rounds cut easily through the first few of lines of insects, but it didn’t slow them at all. Monroe fired her pistol into the attackers and helped as well as she could from inside the circle. Sal’s arms were numb and he couldn’t aim worth shit, but he could pull the trigger and would hardly miss the solid mass that surged toward him.

  His mag clicked empty, and he dropped it and popped the new one in with a smooth, practiced motion that surprised him. Even the half-second pause was enough for the locusts to get closer. He wasn’t sure how insects could even look angry, but these did. They were pissed the fuck off.

  Sal gritted his teeth. This wasn’t real combat experience. If he’d learned anything in hours of procrastination through YouTube videos, it was that in an actual gunfight, the people most likely to survive were the ones who knew how to find the best cover.

  This was more like hunting, but the creatures without the guns were the hunters.

  Funny how the tables had turned. Hunting and guns had never been a family tradition, and this was the first time that he’d ever imagined violence on another animal. He ate steak and made fun of vegans over the internet, but if there was ever a lesson not to fuck with nature, this was it.

  The sounds of automatic rifle fire from around him faded and became desperate, quick tugs at the triggers of their sidearms. They had almost run out of ammo and couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

  Suddenly, Addams handed out fresh mags to his comrades and joined the battle.

  “What’s the status?” Davis called over the din.

  “Rodriguez is dead, Sarge!” Addams called back. “And I suggest that we move on. I don’t think we have much time here.”

  Sal’s distraction as he tried to follow the conversation had its consequences. He missed a few shots, and a locust broke through his line of fire. His rifle was empty again, and the monstrous insect collided with a force that threw him backward. He was sure hundreds more would follow to claw at his legs and tear him to pieces. His back hit a root, and the impact drove the breath from his lungs. He fought to shove the creature’s clacking mandibles away from his face. Claws tore through his suit and dug into his legs. Sal screamed in pain and wrestled with the monster on his chest. Fatigue slowed his tired and numb arms, and the snapping jaws drew closer to press on the glass on his
helmet and shatter it.

  Sal closed his eyes to protect them from the shards, but he released the creature’s thorax and lifted his hands instinctively to his head.

  “Oh, God,” he whispered as the sharp mandibles gnashed mere inches from his face. Some crazy part of his brain said he should do something badass. Maybe he could find his scalpel at the last second and thrust it into the creature’s body and shove it aside with a cheesy one-liner. He kicked hard against other creatures which could mangle his legs, but he couldn’t spare a hand to find a weapon to fight back with. It was all he could do to prevent the vicious jaws from tearing his face off.

  A loud gunshot very close to his ears made them ring. It brought relief, though, since the angry buzz had become a high-pitched whine. Cold, blue insect blood settled on his face. He spluttered and gasped for breath, felt the creature’s heavy weight on his chest, and realized that his hands were free again. He shoved hard, then shouted and kicked as another shot splattered more blood over him. Monroe held her smoking sidearm and continued to pull the trigger, even though it clicked empty. Her shocked look probably mirrored his own as he panted heavily on the ground.

  He was spent and could do nothing more than simply let them kill him already. Dying had to be better than living like this.

  A hand pushed into his face, and he struggled to shake the sudden slump he found himself in. He opened his eyes to see Kennedy standing over him. She offered him her hand.

  “Get off your ass, Jacobs,” she demanded. He took her hand, and she yanked him to his feet like he weighed the same as a sack of feathers.

  Sal panted ragged gasps for air. A gentle trickle of blood ran down his legs, but he could still move around so the damage must be only superficial. Even so, his body felt made of lead, and he struggled to stay on his feet.

  “Someone’s feeling better,” he retorted acidly. With his helmet and HUD gone he couldn’t see her expression, but from the tone of her voice she was grinning.

  “Thanks for your concern, Doc.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I feel like a new woman right now. How do you feel?”

  Sal nodded. He didn’t want to confess that her playful pat on his shoulder had nearly sent him to the ground. She still wore her helmet so she would see that he swayed on his feet.

  “My gun’s empty, Sarge,” Sal finally managed to say. She nodded and turned to Davis, who still carried Richards’ extra rifle. He unstrapped it and tossed it to Sal, who caught it and almost lost it but hugged it close to his chest. Kennedy shouldered the empty gun and one of Sal’s packs. It seemed like the treatment had done more than simply heal her. It made her better than she had been before, and Sal wasn’t sure if she realized it or not. He wouldn’t complain. He felt like he could at least walk without the extra weight.

  “We’ll make a run for the Jeeps,” Davis said.

  He nodded wearily. “Let’s do this.” He’d push as well as he could, but he hoped that he didn’t slow the squad down with his dead legs and numb arms. As he couldn’t see anything, he pulled his shattered helmet off. His legs were awash with pain although he couldn’t examine the wounds. He would have them looked at when they reached the Staging Area.

  When, not if. When. Sal nodded, gritted his teeth, and put one foot in front of the other. It really was all he could do. He couldn’t look up for fear his foot would catch in something and send him to the ground again with nobody to help him up. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that the area around him wasn’t as dark as he’d thought it would be. Sunrise was a couple of hours away, and this light was soft and held a blueish tint.

  Moonlight with perhaps a little starlight too. It wasn’t much, but it seeped through the tree cover, which meant they were out of the thickest part of the jungle. They were closer to the edge and the Jeeps.

  The small flare of hope was all Sal needed to drive him forward. He could see now and could avoid the larger roots and rocks that jutted from the ground. His pace increased, and he caught up with the team. He wasn’t sure if they had slowed for his benefit, but he was soon shoulder to shoulder with Cortez, who grabbed him by the shoulder and helped him move faster.

  “They’re coming!” Monroe yelled, and again, he didn’t need to look to know that she was right. He could feel the vibration in the ground and in the air. It felt more intense as they drew closer, and he plunged forward, helped by Cortez.

  He raised his gun when the creatures leveled with them and jumped from branch to branch to keep pace. Without conscious thought, he fired a few shots and heard a thud when at least one of the locusts was hit.

  “Save your bullets,” Cortez snarled. “Focus on running, Jacobs. You can make it.”

  Sal realized the squad had already drawn ahead by a few paces. Cortez had held back to ensure that he wasn’t picked off as the weakest member of the herd, so he dug deep and surged forward. His lungs burned, and his body screamed for relief. His hands were numb enough that he let the gun drop to hang loosely from the strap around his neck. It knocked into his wounded thigh with each step.

  Can’t stop. Won’t stop. Got to keep moving.

  He felt mandibles close around his ankle and drag him off his feet. Sal cried out in pain as his ankle twisted and his hip hammered painfully into a rock or root, and he couldn’t stand. He needed to, but his body refused to respond.

  Cortez yanked him up by the collar, and another pair of hands supported him.

  “We’re not done with you yet, rookie,” Addams said as he drew Sal’s arm over his shoulders and practically dragged him along with Cortez’ help.

  Sal didn’t have it in him to say thank you. His lungs sucked desperately for oxygen. He tried to run, but the best he could do to help his companions was to keep his feet from dragging.

  “Come on!” Kennedy yelled, and a Jeep engine came to life and illuminated the area around them. They’d parked almost outside the Zoo, but it seemed the trees had surrounded them. Thankfully, both vehicles were still in good shape. The second engine purred, and more light flooded the area and startled the swarm for a few seconds. Davis yanked a smoke grenade from his vest and tossed it into the locusts, which tried to surge forward as if they sensed that their prey was almost out of reach. The smoke enveloped them almost immediately, and the three comrades gained a little more time.

  Someone fired to hold the insects away from the trio and Sal was shoved into the Jeep. It wasn’t the most ceremonious of landings, and it crammed him into the corner of the vehicle as Cortez and Addams piled in behind him.

  “We’re in!” Cortez shouted. “Let’s go!”

  With no time for seatbelts, they were all thrown to the back when the vehicle surged forward as Kennedy accelerated. Sal landed painfully on his shoulder but eventually, the bumps lessened when they reached the slightly smoother sand of the Sahara Desert. He used the little energy he had left to drag himself into a seat.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, the view into the sky was completely clear. With not even a hint of cloud cover, a wide expanse of stars glittered and to the east, the almost full moon shone down. It was a refreshing sight. His breathing remained short and harsh, and all the pain of his wounds hit him like a freight train.

  “Are you okay?” Addams asked. He shifted closer and turned a backseat light on. Sal blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

  All he could manage in response was a weak shake of his head. Addams examined his legs first.

  Sal didn’t even want to look, so he stared out the window and craned his neck to see the most refreshing sight of them all. He wasn’t sure if he should feel that way, but inexplicably, he did. The Zoo faded into the distance, and he felt it’s unaccountable tug where there should only have been relief.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Jeeps halted, and Sal jerked out of sleep. The dreams hadn’t been pleasant, and he was almost relieved to be awake, as much as he needed the rest. Dreams of panthers, locusts, hyenas, and a massive two-legged creature large enough
to crush a man with one step weren’t the release he needed. Something dreamless and deep sounded like what the doctor ordered, but since that wasn’t an option, he’d prefer to remain awake.

  He pushed from his seat, but his legs gave way. Addams caught him and held him up.

  “Let’s not push too hard just yet,” the medic said, his voice hoarse. He looked as tired as Sal felt but had the strength left to help Sal out of the Jeep and carry him to some seats nearby.

  “Paramedics will be here to help us soon.” Addams dropped into the seat beside him.

  Sal shook his head and sighed deeply. “I’m not cut out for this place,” he said, his voice slurred. The medic had mixed him a strong cocktail of painkillers, which explained why he couldn’t walk straight. It explained the weird dreams too, he realized.

  Then again, he doubted he’d be able to walk at all without the painkillers.

  “Thanks for helping me back there,” Sal said softly to Addams and Cortez, who had joined them. “Both of you. I would have been locust shit if it wasn’t for you guys.”

  “We’re a team, ese.” Cortez bumped Sal’s shoulder lightly. “You help us out of shit, we get you out of shit. It’s how this whole squad thing works.”

  Sal flinched but smirked around the discomfort. Even that light touch on his shoulder was enough for pain to flare across his body, but it was worth it. A team, a squad, all working together—with a single exception called Lynch— to help one another out of a deadly situation. It felt good. He’d always been a loner and ahead of everyone, at least mentally. It felt good to be there with people who actually wanted to see him escape alive. His smirk turned into a full smile.

  “Hey, Jacobs.” Kennedy stepped out of the Jeep and approached the three men. “I need to head to the commander’s office to turn in what we picked up, along with our casualty count and other details from our mission. Do you still have the flowers we got?”