by G. P. Hudson
Jon lined up the lead Chaanisar and opened fire. He scored several direct hits before the Chaanisar took cover. A savage firefight ensued. The remaining Diakans tried to hold on, but they had just lost five of their men to the grenade attack. Jon could see they were outnumbered by the rate of return fire. The Diakans, however, weren’t giving an inch.
Jon saw a Chaanisar pop his head out. He pulled the trigger, but the Chaanisar was back behind the wall before his energy bolt could find its mark. He showed himself again and Jon squeezed off another bolt. He missed. Goddamn they’re fast, he thought. He had to change tactics. He aimed for the empty spot and fired, without a real target. As if on cue, the Chaanisar appeared. The bolt crashed into the Chaanisar armor, surprising him before he ducked back behind the wall.
A Diakan lunged forward and threw a grenade at the Chaanisar positions. He was met by a crossfire of energy bolts. The Diakan tried to get out of the line of fire, but the onslaught overwhelmed him. The grenade exploded, and Jon felt the floor shudder from the concussion. He couldn’t know how many Chaanisar it took down, but hoped it got them all. His question was soon answered. Another Diakan jumped into the crossfire and threw a grenade at the opposite Chaanisar position. The crossfire cut him down, but his grenade detonated, likely taking out several Chaanisar.
“Looks like the Diakans have balls after all,” said Jason.
“Who knew?” said Jon, impressed by the Diakan suicide attacks.
“Don’t be fooled by their cautious nature,” said Jon’s father. “They can be fierce fighters when they need to be.”
To Jon’s surprise, two more Diakans jumped out, throwing grenades at the Chaanisar positions. A Chaanisar surged forward launching his own grenade toward the remaining Diakans. A Diakan dove on the Chaanisar grenade as it and the other grenades exploded. Thrown to the ground, the remaining Diakans struggled to get up. Two Chaanisar soldiers appeared and opened fire on the prone Diakans. Jon and his group targeted the Chaanisar and scored multiple hits. The Chaanisar armor, obviously weakened by the grenade attacks, didn’t take much energy fire. The Chaanisar didn’t drop before killing the remaining Diakans, however.
“Hold your fire,” said Jon’s father.
An eerie quiet set in.
“Are they dead?” asked Jon, expecting Chaanisar to come around the corner any second.
“I don’t know,” said his father. “We’ll have to take a look.”
“I was hoping you weren’t going to say that,” said Jason.
“Come on,” said Jon’s father, and he cautiously stepped forward.
Jon raised his forearm to wipe his brow. “Is it just me, or is it really warm in here?” he asked.
“It’s warm” said Jason. “I’m sweating like a fucking pig.”
“Do pigs sweat?” said Michael.
“You look pretty sweaty to me,” said Jason.
They reached the corner and his father held up a fist, telling them to stop. He peered around the corner and exhaled.
“All clear,” he said, and waved the group forward.
“Goddamn,” said Jason, turning the corner.
Jon came around and saw a corridor full of dead Chaanisar.
Michael moved in for a closer inspection. He stepped over the bodies, pointing his weapon at each one.
“Be careful,” said Jon’s father. “Some of them might still be alive.”
“Don’t worry,” said Michael. “If any of them so much as twitches I’ll toast them.”
“They’re fast,” said Jason. “Get back here and stop playing the damn hero.”
“Relax brother,” said Michael. “They all look pretty dead to me.”
“Okay, come back so we can figure out what’s next,” said Jon’s father.
Michael turned to face them and said, “I think we should-”
A fountain of blood spewed forth several feet from the artery in Michael’s neck. Dark green fingers dug their long claws deep into his throat.
Juttari claws.
Michael’s eyes were wide with surprise, his hands struggling to pry himself free from the alien grip. From behind Michael’s head intelligent, cat-like eyes stared straight at Jon. He pointed his weapon but couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting his cousin. The creature cocked its head at Jon, eyeing him curiously. Michael’s legs kicked out violently, but to no avail.
“Let him go you fuck,” said Jason, charging the Juttari.
“No!” yelled Jon’s father. “Don’t!”
But Jason was too consumed with rage to listen. The Juttari looked at Jason and yanked its hand from Michael’s throat. He threw the torn out windpipe at Jason, as if to show him its handiwork. Michael crumpled to his knees, black blood now gushing from his savaged throat. Jason fired as the Juttari leaped toward him, taking him to the ground. Jason landed on his back with the Juttari straddling his chest. Its claws viciously tearing at his neck and face with terrifying speed.
Jon and his father fired. They both scored direct hits but the energy bolts only seemed to anger it. The creature looked up with narrowed eyes. It screeched as Jon shot it square in the face. Jon’s repeated firing forcing it off Jason. The Juttari sprang away down the hall, scaling the walls with incredible agility until it disappeared into the darkness.
They raced to help Jason. His face had literally been torn off. His throat, like Michael’s, had been ripped out. Jon’s weapon shook in his hand. His two cousins, who had always been more like older brothers, were dead.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and his father said, “We need to keep moving, son.”
“What?” said Jon, still staring at the bloody pulp that used to be Jason’s face.
“We need to go.”
“Where?”
“Back the way we came.”
Jon turned to meet his father’s gaze. “What about the Juttari? Are we just going to let it get away?”
“It’s not going anywhere. Believe me. It’ll be dead before this battle is done.”
“We need to kill it.”
“No, son. We need to fall back before it kills us.”
Jon stared down the hallway in the direction the Juttari escaped. Wasn’t it still back there? Hiding? Watching? He raised his weapon and stared down its sight at the corridor. No movement.
“Come on,” said his father.
Jon scanned the corridor one last time and said, “Okay.” He turned and followed his father back the way they came. He knew his father was right. The smart thing to do was find reinforcements. Then they could hunt down and kill the Juttari.
They stepped over the Chaanisar and Diakan bodies and backtracked down the corridor until they eventually reached the humans that had joined them. Their eviscerated bodies were scattered on the floor, intestines stretched out in front of them like endless gray rope. Their faces twisted in permanent agony.
Jon’s stomach flipped as a savage shriek filled the hallway behind him.
Chapter 38
“We have to make a stand,” said Jon’s father. “We can’t run. It’ll just cut us down from behind.”
“Make a stand?” Jon said, struggling to keep control of his emotions. Fighting the panic. “Look at what that thing did to these men. To Michael and Jason.”
“We have no choice,” his father said, in an even tone. “We hurt it back there, especially when you shot it in the face.”
“Why isn’t it dead?” said Jon, aiming his weapon at the corridor, scanning for signs of movement.
“It must have some type of protection. Not armor, like the Diakans. Something else. We just can’t see it.”
“Maybe it’s weak around the head?”
“Could be. We should try and aim for its head. Either way, even those Diakan suits can fail with enough punishment. The Juttari shouldn’t be much different.”
How many shots will it give us? thought Jon. He remembered how it seized Michael by the throat. Where had it come from? They hadn’t seen a thing.
Another shriek. Closer this ti
me. He still couldn’t see anything. Why was it making all that noise? Jon wondered. Wouldn’t it rather sneak up on them?
“There it is,” shouted his father, and opened fire toward the ceiling.
Jon caught the movement and pulled the trigger. The Juttari scurried from the ceiling onto the wall. It climbed like a squirrel, using its claws for traction. Even on the ceiling, it moved incredibly fast. Jon had a tough time adjusting his fire, but managed to adapt. His father had already scored several hits on the thing’s torso, but hadn’t slowed it down. The head must be the key.
His weapon blazed blue lightning but the head shot evaded him. It was almost on top of them before Jon hit his target. The Juttari dropped from the ceiling to the floor, stunned. Jon fired again, but the creature jumped out of the way. Its cat-eyes were on him now. It charged. Jon fired frantically. It crashed into him, knocking the energy weapon from his hands and slashing him across the face with one of its claws.
Jon fell back, stunned and momentarily blinded. The monster smashed into him again and he fell to the floor. His face burned and he brought his arms up to protect it.
“Get off my son you filthy bastard,” his father roared.
Jon felt the creature fall off of him and opened an eye to see blue energy bolts crashing into the beast. The creature shrieked and flung itself onto his father. They hit the ground hard.
I have to help him, Jon thought, forcing himself up. Blood streamed into his eyes, blurring his vision, but he could still make out the Juttari. It was on top of his father. He didn’t know where his energy weapon was and had no time to search for it. So he lunged for the Juttari and drew the only weapons he had left. His knives.
Landing on the creature’s back he attacked it with the ferocity of a rabid wolf. His blades came down repeatedly on the thing’s face. His arms moved like pistons. At first Jon felt resistance, like he was trying to pierce a metal plate. But with each thrust the resistance dissipated until he began to feel the soft flesh underneath. There was another deafening shriek and the Juttari threw Jon off its back.
Jon hit the floor and rolled, getting back onto his feet in one fluid motion. The creature too had left his father and stood facing Jon. It stared back at him with malevolence, but with only one eye. The other eye was a mangled mess. The injury gave Jon a surge of confidence.
He tightened his grip on his blades and bent his knees, readying himself for combat. “Get ready to meet your god, you fuck,” Jon hissed.
The Juttari let out a low, guttural growl and sprang at Jon.
Jon knew he couldn’t rely on his sight. His vision was blurred, and the Juttari moved too fast. If he simply watched for the strike he had no doubt he’d be dead. He would fight the way his mother taught him, using sensitivity rather than sight. He closed his eyes. Felt the attack. And let his arms think for themselves.
His hand shot out and he felt his blade make contact, parrying the strike. The other blade moved deflecting a second set of claws. The Juttari unleashed a flurry. Jon fell backwards, but his arms like windmills successfully defended against each slash.
His defense might have confused the creature because there was a slight pause in its melee. It was only a fraction of a second, but Jon’s arms were moving at full speed, defending, yet at the same time probing for weakness. That fraction of a second pause felt like a glaring hole in the Juttari’s defense.
His hands initiated a fierce counter attack. The Juttari responded weakly. It blocked the first few attempts, but it had lost momentum. Jon wondered if it ever had to actually defend itself in a hand to hand encounter. He stabbed at its face. It blocked. Jon hooked its arm with his other blade and pulled it down, freeing his attacking arm. He stabbed again. It blocked with its other arm, but Jon was now a step ahead. His attacking arm switched to defense, yanking its blocking arm down, and simultaneously thrusting up with his other knife.
The point made contact under the Juttari chin and slid easily into flesh. He plunged it home, slicing up through the Juttari mouth. He held the handle firmly, pinning the beast’s head in place. His other knife gashed furiously at its face. The strange Juttari scream muffled as blood sprayed out from its wounds. It struck at Jon’s arms with its claws. Jon was so focused on his kill that the wounds went unnoticed. The Juttari fell backward, taking Jon fell with it, his blade now sinking deeper into its skull with each thrust.
Its arms went limp. Jon couldn’t stop. He unleashed a lifetime of fury into its green face. He stabbed for his parents. For his cousins. For the stolen children. For the Earth.
“Stop,” said his father, his voice little more than a whisper. “It’s dead.”
His father lived. Jon looked down at his blood soaked hands then at the mutilated Juttari skull. He contained the bile in his throat, and crawled over to his father, who lay prone. Jon could see several lacerations, but just one that worried him. A deep slash across his father’s abdomen that oozed blood. He quickly removed his shirt and pushed it against the wound.
“Are you okay?” his father said, looking up at him.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You look like shit.”
“You want me to get you a mirror?”
His father tried to laugh, but coughed instead.
“Just take it easy,” said Jon.
The sound of heavy boots reverberated down the hallway, coming toward them. Closer now, Jon grabbed his father’s hands and pressed them onto his wound. “Hold this. Someone’s coming.”
He searched the corridor for a weapon. He pulled one out from under a dead fighter and pointed. A group of Diakans appeared and relief washed over him as he lowered his weapon. He walked up to the lead Diakan.
“Please, we need help,” Jon pleaded. “My father’s been badly injured.”
The Diakan glanced at him, then down at his father and at the dead Juttari. He walked past without a word. Jon was stunned. He ran forward and stood in front of the Diakan.
“Do you understand me? We need your help.”
The Diakan pushed him aside, the armored strength surprising Jon. Jon stumbled sideways several steps before regaining his balance.
Jon lunged forward and grasped the metal arm. “Please, you have to help us,” he begged.
The Diakan spun around striking with a powerful armored glove.
Jon’s head snapped back and the lights went out.
Chapter 39
Jon woke to a pounding in his head. The sunlight hit him square in the eyes piercing into his temple. He didn’t know where he was, or what had happened. Then everything came rushing back.
“Father!” he shouted. He tried to get up but it felt like someone had driven a spike into his skull. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight he began to make sense of his surroundings. He was back at camp, in a medical tent.
“Father!” He frantically scanned the other beds. Could they have just left him in there? If he was dead, they would have. How long was I out? he thought. He remembered the Diakan armored fist. I’ll kill that son of a bitch. He struggled again to get up.
“Take it easy,” came a soft female voice from behind him. “You’ll reopen your wounds.” A face came into view. A human face. She had blond hair tied back in a loose bun, high cheekbones and light blue, almost gray, eyes. He didn’t remember seeing her before.
“Who are you? Where’s my father?” Jon said, his voice hoarse.
“I’m Tess. I’m the nurse who’s going to make sure you recover properly. I’m guessing the man brought in with you is your father. He’s okay, but was in far worse shape than you.” Tess checked Jon’s wounds. “My God. What happened in there? The two of you look like you were fighting wild animals.”
Jon let his head drop back down onto the pillow. His father had made it. He looked up at Tess and said, “Juttari. We fought a Juttari.”
“A Juttari did this to you?” said Tess.
“Yeah, with its claws.”
“Claws? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”
“You’d know if you did,” said Jon.
Tess studied Jon’s wounds and said, “I suppose I would.”
“When can I see my father?”
“Soon. I’ll let you know.” When Tess turned to walk away Jon grabbed her by the arm. “Was there something else?”
“Yeah. Who brought us in?”
“I don’t know their names.”
“Were they human or Diakan?”
“Human.”
Jon loosened his grip and said, “Thanks for all your help, Tess. We’re in your debt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We’re all in this together.”
***
“That bloody Diakan hit you real hard,” said Jon’s father, laying on his medical cot. “I saw the whole thing.” His father paused, glaring at him. “And you just stood there and let that alien shit knock you out. I thought I taught you how to defend yourself.”
“I didn’t expect it,” Jon said, embarrassed. He sat in a wheelchair next to his father’s cot. Tess had insisted that he use it, even though he felt strong enough to walk. He found her strangely persuasive. And beautiful. While waiting for his father to gain consciousness, he kept making excuses to speak with her. Likely why he agreed to the wheelchair. But now it made him feel uncomfortable, especially with his father about to tear a strip out of him for getting sucker punched.
“You didn’t expect it? How does someone fight off a Juttari attack and win, then get flattened by a single punch? Can you explain that one to me? I mean, I don’t think the Diakan could’ve been any more obvious about what his intentions were.”
“I thought the Diakans were on our side. I didn’t think he would attack me, especially after I killed a Juttari.”
His father rolled his eyes. “What did you think, that the Diakan would give you a medal? I guarantee you he assumed that another Diakan killed the Juttari. There’s no way in hell he’d believe you killed that Juttari with just a couple of knives. How many times do I have to tell you-”
“The Diakans don’t give a shit about us. I know, father.”
