Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  He didn't knock me down, however, which probably would've been the end of me. I was also too close for him to shoot with his too-large gun, and although dazed, I hadn't lost all senses when he swung his gun again, this time aiming the stock at my chest.

  I brought up my left arm again, deflecting the blow off of my forearm. It should've hurt, with the amount of force used, but instead I only felt numbness in that arm.

  I noticed it, but it wasn't distracting enough for me to finish him off. The man shrugged the strap off his shoulders and threw the gun aside to better take me on, lunging forward and pulling out a combat knife from his belt. He let out a grunt, teeth bared, swiping at me with that silver, sharp metal.

  I dodged, bending backwards, as the blade swept past my face — once, twice — I angled away each time, then brought my hands, grabbed the offending arm. I twisted it, forced it further back away from me, shoving my weight back into the soldier.

  At the same time, I brought my knee to his groin, and felt the audible sound as the wind was knocked out him.

  It was quickly followed by a loud pop as I dislocated his arm, and he choked, dropping the knife. He fell to his knees, one arm limp at his side. I released him, taking a step back, putting my weight into one foot and delivering a roundhouse kick to his face.

  The man keeled over, done for.

  I stood over him, panting a little, and I finally started feeling the aching in my arm from taking the blow from the gun. Rolling my shoulders, I grabbed the fallen rifle and disassembled it, deciding not to bother with asking myself how I knew to do that, either. It was all just par for the course now. Why wouldn't I know how to disassemble a gun?

  I was a 'soldier', after all.

  BOOM.

  A massive explosion shook the very building I stood on. I stumbled slightly as I rushed over to the edge of the roof, just in time to see the metal doors of the gate come crashing down, red sparks flying. The guard towers on either side swayed dangerously, brick and mortar crumbling, and it all came tumbling down.

  And a single girl stood in front of it all, dark hair whipping in the wind, her arms raised with bright, twisting energy.

  Wanda finally destroyed the gates.

  Breathless, with a relieved smile on my face, I didn't hesitate before lifting myself up and over the edge of the roof, dropping down over twenty feet to land in a tumble on the street.

  My bones were stronger, too, if I could take a fall like that and barely feel it.

  Pietro and Wanda were waiting for me in the middle of the square as I ran over, nearly tripping over some rubble in my haste. 'You did it! You got it open!'

  Wanda smiled, looking utterly relieved, wiping a hand across her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind. 'Ha, yes, thank you. It seems the Cheka have retreated finally.'

  'The rebels surprised them,' Pietro surmised, gesturing to the gathering men and women still standing, all in the square. 'They did not expect so many of them to be here, or to be so prepared. It's illegal for a Sokovian civilian to own a gun.'

  They were in worse shape than use, only human and armed with actual weapons. But they had smiles on their faces, were shaking hands and patting backs. This was a victory for them.

  I glanced over, found Julia and Frank standing by their hiding place, looking awed and covered in dust. The sun was starting to filter through the sky above, shining golden light on the square. People raised their hands over their eyes to see through it and the clouds of smoke and dust that still permeated the square.

  To Pietro, I said, 'Well, I don't think they were expecting us, either. We must've taken out a good chunk of them.'

  'Yes, but I think we should —' Wanda began, but she was interrupted by a low rumble, that steadily rose in volume. She stopped, surprised, and we all looked around, trying to find the source of it, where it was coming from.

  Soon it was so loud that it shook the ground, and I realized it was coming from the gates. No, beyond them.

  Hulking metal forms appeared from beyond the dust outside the gates, green and gray. They creaked and groaned, long cannons swiveling in our direction, the bobbing heads of marching soldiers beneath them.

  The smiles dropped off of our faces. My heart leapt into my throat, and I grabbed both twins as I stumbled back, pulling them away from the line of fire.

  At the same time, a rebel shouted behind us, 'It's the Cheka!'

  It was indeed. It seemed the Cheka were truly devoted to their cause, having no intention of letting anyone escape. They must have realized they were losing the battle in the square, and called reinforcements.

  This time, they brought tanks.'Holy shit!' I gasped as the first tank fired off, sending a shell into the building directly behind us.

  The upper floor was decimated instantly — brick, mortar, brown dust ricocheting like powdery fireworks, hailing down over our heads. Chunks as big as dinner tables came crashing down at our feet. One missed Pietro by inches, had he not been fast enough to get out of the way.

  The rebels scattered, incoherent shouting filling the air again. Gunfire resumed, and when I looked around again, I saw men marching out of the dust beyond the gates, accompanying the tanks. Footsoldiers with their own rifles, using the tanks as cover as they fired shots into the shifting crowd. Men fell. The first tank fired off again, then the second tank behind that followed suit.

  We ran for cover as the Cheka rolled in on their massive machines, that low rumble rising to a near deafening roar. Pietro, Wanda and I ducked into a hollow storefront, its windows blasted out, door entirely gone. We hunkered down beneath one of those windows, shattered glass at our feet, keeping our heads down and praying no one shot at us. This building wouldn't do much to protect us, but at least it hid us from sight.

  My ears still rang from the deafening booms of the tanks' cannons, so I almost didn't hear when Wanda shouted, covering her ears: 'What do we do? We're outnumbered!'

  She was right. I peered through the broken windows into the square again. Aside from the tanks, there were at least forty soldiers on the ground, far more of them than there were left of the rebels. Even if we had the upper hand, we didn't stand a chance against the machinery.

  The first tank had stopped right in the center, the second one right behind, and I spotted two more pulling up the rear, just outside the gate. God damn, four tanks? Talk about overkill. Were they going to destroy the whole city with those things?

  Least to say, I did not like our chances.

  'We could run,' Pietro said, as another building in the distance exploded, flames so hot that I could feel them, even from here. His eyes were wide, watching the rampant destruction with growing terror. 'The gates are still open. We could run through. They would not be fast enough to catch us.'

  'No!' Wanda protested, grabbing his sleeve and giving him a desperate look. 'We cannot leave the city like this! They are completely defenseless!'

  'And what? Should we die for them?' Pietro snapped at her, throwing out his hands. 'We fight men, Wanda, we have never faced anything such as that! I am fast, but I cannot fight a tank!'

  Wanda turned her eyes to me, pleading, 'Amelia, please! We cannot leave yet. We must do something!'

  'No, we must leave now!' Pietro argued.

  'J-just hold on a second,' I said, wincing as another earth-shattering boom fell across us. Dust rained from the ceiling and I covered my head. 'I think Wanda is right, Pietro. It'd be wrong if we left now. But…I'll handle the tanks, okay? It, er, it shouldn't be too hard to take care of them. You two help the rebels; there's already more Cheka soldiers out there than they can handle.'

  'You sure?' Wanda's eyebrows pinched together. 'You can do it?'

  'I can sure as hell try.' I said, offering a hopeful smile. I didn't know if I could encourage them, but I did my best. 'If we don't do this, no one else will.'

  Pietro scowled, looking uncertain for a moment, frustrated that it was two-against-one, but eventually he nodded h
is head, determined. 'I will watch your backs. Both of you. Be careful.'

  I nodded once before standing. 'Let's do this.'

  Stepping out of that building, out of our safe spot, was like walking straight into hell. In the few moments we had been covered, the entire square had changed almost completely. Nearly all the buildings in the vicinity had been damaged or destroyed. Rubble littered the streets. There was fire everywhere. Piles of tires where the rebels had made impromptu roadblocks — they created a terrible stength and a thick screen of clogging smoke that made it impossible to see through. At the very least, it seemed to hinder the tanks, but they didn't stop moving in, and there were just so many Cheka running around, pushing the rebels back.

  I didn't see those foreign correspondents anywhere. I checked their last hiding spot, only to find it empty. Perhaps they wised up and got the hell out of Dodge.

  Well, it was one less thing to worry about.

  Tightening my grip on the shield, I turned and faced the tanks.

  Behind me, the twins darted out, Pietro going forward and clearing a way for Wanda to whip out her Magic. Three Cheka went down at once — a shout rang out, and they were alerted to our presence. A burst of gunfire exploded in the air, and I took off into a run.

  I yelped as bullets exploded at my feet, spurring me to only run faster before dodging around the tank. A soldier was on the other side, turning to me in surprise, but only had the chance to let out a shout before I slammed my fist into his jaw and knocked him to the ground.

  The soldier behind him whipped around, gun raised, but it was knocked aside by my foot as I leapt up onto the tank. On top in a second, I kicked him again, heel to his nose; his head snapped back and he fell backwards into the next man behind them, and both went down in a heap.

  I had no idea how to stop a tank, just knew that I probably could, being a Super Soldier. My abilities had to count for something, right? These things weren't unstoppable. They were actually quite old, 70's era vehicles that were never designed for the likes of me or the twins. On top, I was in the middle of deciding what to do — mistakenly catching myself in a moment of indecision, something I had decided not to do earlier — when I saw something move in the corner of my vision.

  I looked up, just in time to see Tank #2 level its cannon at Tank #1 — at me.

  In that split second, between visual recognition and cognitive understanding, I thought I could see the glint of the shell inside the cannon's barrel —

  Then diving off Tank #1, right before exploded underneath me. I felt the wave of heat, starting at my feet and washing up over my head, so crippling I couldn't feel the cold air for the next minute. I hit the ground hard, a haphazard roll, head over heels. It almost hurt me as bad as the explosion did, but at least I was still in one piece.

  I came to a stop on my stomach, bringing the shield over my head as burning metal rained down. They clattered and bounced across the street, smoking and smoldering, leaving ash trails in their wake.

  And then I was up on my feet again, without even looking to see if it was safe yet. I didn't have the time. I had to keep moving.

  I could see how Pietro through, in his way of fighting. When getting from one point to another as fast as possible, Pietro usually just ran in straight, direct lines — something I knew thanks to him saving me those few times. But in a fight, he acted differently. I could see it here; darting back and form, leaving a zig-zagging glimmering ribbon in his wake.

  It reminded me of a rabbit, and how it behaved to avoid predators; essentially being so random and quick in its path, literally turning on a dime, so that it was impossible to track, to predict where it will be next, and thus frustrating any marksman worth his salt.

  Pietro was basically invisible to the tanks, who took far too long to adjust aim to ever catch him.

  So I tried to be like Pietro, in dealing with these big-ass tanks. While I would never be as fast as Pietro, I copied his pattern, quickly getting my way around Tank #2. Along the way, I picked up one of the fallen chunks of metal left of Tank #1. It was still hot, almost too hot to hold, but I did anyways.

  One of the Cheka footmen had run up to replace the men lost. He took aim at me as I came his way, stumbling slightly when I didn't slow down. I dodged his opening shot, dropping back to one knee with one leg out, as though I were sliding to home base — slamming the hunk of metal into the wheels inside the tank's tracks — at the same time, swiping my shield on my right, taking out the footman's knees as I slid past him.

  He cried out, and I got up as he fell down. Turning, I delivered a well-placed kick to the back of his head. A piercing shriek filled the air: the shard of metal tearing through the tracks, the tank's gears grinding. The entire vehicle veered left as its steering was compromised.

  I wasn't done yet. Clambering on top of Tank #2, I kept on an eye on the tank directly behind it as I got on top, working fast as I grabbed the ceiling hatch and — with one good yank — broke it open. Super strength certainly had its advantages.

  Tossing the useless metal aside, I was already waiting for the bayonets to come shooting out, ready to pierce me. But I leaned back, and instead grabbed them, too, and easily yanked them out of the grips of the soldiers within the tank. Tossed the guns, aside, too. Then grabbed the shirts of the soldiers as they came out next, throwing them out one by one, until it was empty.

  The last tank Cheka, however, had something in his hand when I took him out. I only noticed it at the last second, as I dropped him outside, and he let it go.

  It bounced across the top of the tank, at my knees. I looked down.

  A grenade.

  'Shite!' I yelped, kicking it on instinct before stumbling backwards — only there was nothing behind me, and I fell. Flat on my back, in the dirt, next to the tank, as the grenade tumbled inside the hatch.

  FWOOM.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, curling up under my shield, still on my back, as smoke and fire billowed out of Tank #2, like a perverse chimney.

  I let out a sigh of relief. At least it didn't explode this time.

  The Cheka I had thrown out were already running away, trying to grab their lost weapons — but never reached them. I had just gotten up when a sudden tornado hit, whipping my coat around me and sending dust up in the air. I brought my arms up, covering my eyes, until it passed.

  'You're welcome!' Pietro called, when I could see again. The escaped Cheka had been knocked out, still falling to the ground, while their weapons had mysteriously disappeared.

  'Thanks!' I said belatedly, before turning on my heel towards the gates.

  Tank #2 was essentially rendered useless, and was now acting as a roadblock to the last two, who did not have enough space through the gate to pass. I slipped past Tank #2 just as the last of the Cheka infantry ran forward.

  At that, I backpedaled, ducking behind Tank #2 just before a volley of fire could catch me. I took the other way around, flanking them, coming to a stop just at the back of Tank #2 and peering over to see them spreading out, some going forward where I once was, others fanning out in my direction. I had exactly two seconds before they were on me.

  Next to me, an unconscious Cheka lay. On his belt were three fresh hand grenades.

  Well, it worked before, didn't it?

  When the Cheka came around on me, I was already standing, arm over my head, grenade launching from my hand.

  The Cheka saw this, and instantly knew what I was doing. Their eyes went wide and they skidded back, flinching, turning their heads and bringing up their weapons as if to shield themselves.

  But the grenade wasn't aimed at them. I wouldn't be so stupid. They were so close that if the grenade was for them, I'd just blow myself up, too.

  No. It arced over their heads. My aim was careful, precise.

  It went up, and slipped into the barrel of cannon #3.

  There was a rattling sound as it rolled down the entire length of the barrel. A brief, muffled shout from ins
ide the tank. Then —

  BOOM.

  The cannon practically tore itself off the tank. The metal was too sturdy to be broken by the tiny grenade alone. It did, however, react with the shell in an exciting manner — about midway along the cannon it bubbled out, like a giant tumor, while the exhaust of the explosion ricocheted out the end of the cannon, bursting the end of it like flower petals. Ugly, metal flower petals.

  I stared at it for a second, almost surprised. I couldn't believe that worked.

  The effect I had on the Cheka soldiers was over the instant they looked around and noticed that Tank #3 was out of commission. They seemed relieved they weren't dead, then angry at me in short order. I barely had the time to remember myself and charge past them before they could get their guns up again.