by Reece Hinze
Judging from the boot print in that corpse, Cooper’s suit must weigh hundreds of pounds, James thought. But just as impressive was that Cooper walked and maneuvered like nothing held him down. A bead of sweat trickled down James’ forehead as his tortured body struggled to keep up with Cooper through the twists and turns of the smoky hallways. Flashing red lights cast eerie shadows over the abandoned white washed corridors.
As they made the next turn, Cooper stopped suddenly. James nearly slammed into his steel plated back. Not even the dull red emergency lights shown the way through this hall. Halfway down on the left, a steel beam had crashed through the dull white drywall pulling steel, insulation, and sizzling electrical wires with it. Thin white smoke drifted out of the wreckage adding a haze and making it hard for James to breathe.
“Stay here, sir,” Cooper said through the helmet's voice synthesizer. James followed the tiny blinking L.E.D. lights on the back of Cooper's exosuit until he disappeared from sight. Suddenly James felt very alone. More so than when he had only a steel toilet for company. He held his pistol tight. His heart beat quickly. His eyes darted from side to side like a Meer cat on the lookout for a predator. Several agonizingly slow moments rolled by with only the crackle of the loose wire and drifting smoke for company.
Suddenly, from the direction of the mist a voice called out. “Halt!”
A deep synthetic growl came in response. “Think about what you’re doing soldier. You don’t stand a chance. Come with me…”
“I said halt!” The man replied.
Gunfire erupted in the dark hall. James raised his pistol as bullets whizzed by his head but saw no one to shoot at so he darted into the nearest doorway. As he shut the door, the chaos of battle was replaced by the quite sounds of a lab. The room was dark with only a small red flickering emergency light to provide illumination but James didn’t have to see this place to recognize it.
He could feel it.
His bare feet slapped the tile floor as he ran to the heart of the room. The cages against the walls, the slow bubbling ooze in the tubes on the Bunsen burners, a distant monitor methodically beeping to the rhythm of a heartbeat, the smell of sterilization… This was a lab. This was the lab.
This was his torture chamber.
His eyes darted to the centerpiece of the room and the focal point of his pain. Underneath a switched off overhanging light and surrounded by the glowing monitors, was a gurney. A pair of bare feet welcomed him as he approached. A bloody tear ran down James’ face as he inched closer but he just wiped it away, never losing focus on the cold pale feet. As James drew closer, the feet turned into a body. All manner of wires and devices stuck from the immobilized man like an acupuncture patient. An I.V. hose ran from his arm to an orange bag attached to a stand above a machine. James crept, quiet as a mouse, to the man’s side.
James’ trembling hand lightly touched the man’s bare shoulder. Slowly, like an automated Christmas decoration, the bald man’s head turned towards James. The man's cheeks ran red with bloody tears, dark froth dribbled from his chin, and his bloodshot red eyes seemed cemented open in a permanent expression of horror. James staggered backwards, stumbling over an I.V. Confusion swept through him as the cold red eyes stared at him unrelentingly from the gurney.
“You,” James said. He was answered with a deafening scream. The bald man, the Corporal, filled with a panicked rage, shook and convulsed on the gurney, desperate to get free. Terrified, James backed away but his lethargic feet tripped and he fell hard. He hated the bald man, and dreamed of killing him, often and brutally but not like this.
Never like this.
Unable to bare the presence of the screams another second, James turned to run only to smack headlong into a cold unmovable metal wall. He looked up at the red L.E.D. lights forming the angry expression of Cooper's helmet. “I told you you are important Captain,” the Sergeant said in the deep resonate tone of his helmet’s synthesizer. James leveled his pistol at him but his shaking hands betrayed him. The Sergeant simply pushed Lasko’s gun down with his gigantic metal gauntlet.
“I’m not your enemy sir,” Cooper said, walking past James to the screaming man on the gurney. “This man was cruel and evil. He enjoyed tormenting the patients. He enjoyed torturing you.” The Sergeant positioned his big metal frame behind the bald man as he thrashed and struggled against his restraints.
James' confusion was written all over his face. “I don’t have time to explain right now Captain,” Cooper said, his metal voice easily cutting through the screams of the tormented man strapped to the gurney. “We have to get far away from this facility as soon as possible. I have to keep you safe. That is the priority." He turned and gazed at the bald man with his glowing red eyes. “Goodbye Corporal.” He grabbed the man’s thrashing head with his mechanized gauntlet and removing it as easily as a hunter would a downed dove's. The screaming abruptly stopped. Blood splashed on the cool white tile.
“We have to make it to the garage, Captain,” Cooper said, casually tossing the severed head to the floor. James watched it bounce along the tile as Cooper led him away. Blood spurted from the bald man’s neck at the same pace the computer monitor beeped.
When the pair approached the door, James smiled. A red tear trickled down his cheek.
The pair made it to the garage bay door at breakneck speed with Cooper half encouraging, half dragging James. The big man banged on the sealed door three times and punched something into the control pad on his arm. An electronic sizzle that sounded like T.V. static emitted from his helmet.
“Code confirmed,” a deep voice replied from the other side of the door. It was the same scratchy synthetic tone as Cooper’s. The big doors slid open. A room, just large enough to fit a few military grade vehicles loomed in front of them. Everywhere in the facility James had been so far was dark, destroyed, or smoking but this place seemed unaffected by the attack.
“The suits can communicate with each other in their own ever changing language,” Cooper explained. Three soldiers, not as big as the Sergeant, approached them in the same gunmetal grey exosuits. Their L.E.D. eyes all glowed different colors.
“Welcome back Sarge,” the man with the yellow lighted eyes growled. “Is this the one?”
Cooper nodded.
“Yeah no shit Breaker. Look at his fuckin’ eyes,” grey L.E.D. replied.
“Ease up Foster.” Cooper ordered. He strode past the soldiers. “Sit-rep.”
“Yes sir,” Foster replied. “Betsy is outside clearing the perimeter trouble. Westlake is in the A.P.C. and ready to depart. Once the other package arrives, we will be good to go.”
Cooper nodded. “Good. We still have a few minutes until the hard evac. time.” He turned and pointed to the man with the yellow eyes. “Breaker, issue the Captain a Delta-IV before we leave.” His helmet turned to the other suited man. “Foster come with me.”
Yellow eyes held out his armored hand. “Corporal Tupac Breaker,” he said. “I do the medical and supplies thing in this outfit.” The men shook hands. Even though James witnessed Cooper remove a head with the same mechanized hand not minutes earlier, the handshake was firm but not painful. Tupac leaned down on one knee and said, “Alright, let me take a look at you, sir.”
Breaker poked and prodded him as he talked. “Damn sir, you’re a site for sore eyes. When was the last time you slept? Malnourished and skinny. You look like you just crawled out of a shit pit,” he said, laughing to himself. “Shit, what am I saying? In this facility you probably did! Oh well, don't worry. You're still strong enough to pilot a Delta-IV.” He gave James a reassuring pat on his shoulder and walked to a nearby crate. “I know what you’re thinking, Corporal Tupac Breaker. They always think the same thing. Who the fuck names their son Tupac, am I right?” He laughed to himself again as he pulled out a piece of slick grey clothing from the crate. “Well, my momma was Thug Life alright? She didn’t fuck around, nah what I’m sayin’, sir?”
James stared blankly at the suited man i
n front of him. The two exchanged looks for a moment before Tupac continued. “The fuck is wrong with you, sir? You can speak right?”
James stared at the man, expressionless. After a few moments he replied, “You talk too fucking much, Corporal Breaker and even with that voice synthesizer, you sound like a titty baby whose balls haven’t dropped yet.”
A deep guttural laugh emitted from the man’s helmet. “Alright then, alright.” Breaker reached for his helmet, switched two dials on the side and twisted. The sizzle of the depressurization accompanied the removal of his helmet. A dark man with a jovial white smile and matted afro hair appeared from underneath the intimidating exterior. “Alright sir,” the man said for the first time in his real voice. “Let’s get you suited up.”
James, anxious to escape, but excited about having the added protection of the suit, nodded in agreement. “Now the first thing, sir,” Tupac said with an upward twitch of his nose, “Is to get you a fucking shower but since we are low on time, we can skip that and get you right into the bio fiber undersuit.” He threw the Captain the grey one-piece. “Don’t be shy, sir. I’m not into dudes.” Tupac looked at the panel on his left gauntlet. “We only have a few minutes to give you the crash course.”
James didn't hesitate a moment as he flung his filthy black smock over his shoulder. He squeezed into the spandex like material one leg at a time. Tupac looked up from his arm's control panel to point at James' crotch. “Now be careful sir. You need to tuck that in comfortably because you won’t have an opportunity to adjust it for a fuckin’ while.”
"Got it," James said awkwardly. The skintight suit had a strange tingling warmness to it.
“The undersuit’s sensors are designed to pick up on the slightest movements of your muscles and relay the information to your exosuit.” Tupac walked to a different pallet and removed the leg pieces for James' suit. “These suits are heavy as hell. To get in one unassisted, you need to be laying on the ground but today you have me," Tupac said with a wide smile.
The man was growing on James. It was a shame he had to kill him.
Cooper's red lighted helmet appeared above a stack of crates several paces away. “Two minutes until hard evac. Hurry it up, Corporal,” he growled.
“Yes, sir,” Tupac replied, turning to James. “Alright, time to hurry this shit up.”
He helped James, who looked at the Corporal sideways, into his leg unit. “Do you always do what the Sergeant tells you?” He asked him.
Tupac reacted as if stung by a bee. “You don’t talk about the Sergeant, sir. He isn’t exactly the kind of guy that takes no for an answer.”
James felt a strange sensation as the lower portion pressurized around his waist. Already he felt the power of the suit. His near atrophied legs felt strong. Tupac raised the armored chest piece next. James raised his hands to the sky as Tupac slid the piece over him. “Looks like a perfect fit to me,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “Damn I’m good.”
James jumped in place, the gears wining slightly as he flexed and maneuvered. The heavy exosuit performed admirably, mirroring his every movement without the slightest hiccup.
“Alright here’s your crash course Captain. We have one minute.” Tupac handed James a pair of gauntlets which he quickly snapped into place. Tupac pointed to James' legs, chest, and then gloves. “You put that shit on, and then that shit, and those fuckers too. After that,” he held up the helmet, “you put this shit on.” It had red L.E.D. lighted eyes like Cooper’s. “After that, you’re a super fuckin’ soldier, ya dig?”
James nodded and grabbed his helmet from Tupac. “Thank you Corporal,” he said.
“Yeah no problem, sir.” Breaker stood and slapped him on the back. “One last thing. That control panel on your arm has all sorts of useful functions we don’t have time to get into at the moment. Now let’s get the fuck outta here, huh sir?” James nodded and smiled.
Tupac reattached his yellow lighted helmet just as the Sergeant’s deep voice echoed through the garage. “Corporal Breaker, load those crates into the A.P.C.” He waved his arm in a circular motion. “Everyone, move out.” James, still holding his new helmet, grabbed a rifle out of the nearest crate and jogged towards the A.P.C. The popping of small arms fire erupted from inside the facility and a large thud smacked against the garage bay door forcing the steel to bulge inward.
“Get to the A.P.C. now!" Cooper shouted. James, turned to run. They heard another thud and the heavy garage bay door buckled, flying past the Captain’s head, and skidding to a stop forty feet away. Two men in exosuits rushed the garage, pushing a tall skeletal male with them. They fired their automatic rifles into the smoky hall behind them while incoming bullets ricocheted off of their armor.
“Get him to the A.P.C.,” the soldier with the purple lights screamed. A crate exploded near him, showering the surround with splinters of wood.
“Let’s go! Move it, move it!” Cooper shouted.
James blood ran cold when he saw the face of the man they brought with them. “You son of a bitch!” He screamed, dropping his helmet and aiming his rifle. As he squeezed the trigger a huge force turned his rifle away, causing his bullets to ricochet harmlessly off of the floor. James turned to see Cooper towering over him.
“He is as important as you are, Captain.”
“He’s a murderer. He’s a torturer. That man deserves death!”
“That may be true,” the Sergeant said through his helmet’s speaker, “but he will live. You will do me this favor for saving your life.” James ground his teeth together and shot the Sergeant a murderous look.
“Very well, Sergeant. For now,” James replied through clenched teeth.
More gunfire erupted from the hall. Bullets rattled and ricocheted off of the armored vehicle. “Get him into the A.P.C.,” Cooper shouted.
Without hesitation, the man with the purple eyes scooped the Doctor up off of the ground and sprinted towards the open door of the armored vehicle. A projectile, trailed by a plume of white smoke, rocketed into the garage. The man wearing the green lighted helmet took a direct hit. His armored body split in two as it was engulfed in a massive fireball. His torso flew through the air to smack against a wall and his legs fell over with a crash. His guts sprayed into the air like the Old Faithful geyser.
“Go, go, go!” Cooper screamed.
James, now frightened, grabbed his helmet and sprinted towards the A.P.C. door. Foster, with one foot on the ramp and one inside the vehicle, waved him on while the man with the purple eyes dove inside.
“Well, well,” a man shouted in a Cajun accent. “Where ever do you think you are going?”
James, a heartbeat from escape, turned back to see Colonel Fennimore Devreaux, dressed in a black military duster, standing on a pile of crates, twisting his mustache with one hand while tapping his holstered pistol with the other. Flanking him were two men in black exosuits holding shoulder mounted rocket launchers.
“Get in the vehicle, sir,” Cooper said but Devreaux held up his hand. “Not so fast, traitor. One signal from me and these men will blast your merry company of misfits to smithereens.” The Colonel walked a few paces towards them with his easy swagger while all the time, tapping his holstered pistol. “Put those rifles down and I swear your deaths will come easily. Resist and I will tear you limb from limb.”
James was furious. There stood the man who ripped his life away, who tormented him ruthlessly. He made a motion to raise his rifle but Cooper’s outstretched arm stopped him. “And what of the Captain and the Doctor?” He asked.
Devreaux smiled, twisting the side of his mustache again. “Why, my dear Sergeant, the Doctor will go back to doing what he's been doing. Changing the world. Patient 1113 however, has outlived his usefulness. He will die no matter what. ”
A few tense moments passed. Nothing moved except the slow ticking of Devreaux's finger. Suddenly, a massive crash shook the room. A huge black tank smashed through an outer wall sending chunks of concrete and debris flying and a
low roll of dust surging through the room. Devreaux pulled his pistol and screamed, “Kill them all!”
Gunfire erupted. Wood splintered and men bellowed as bullets traced deadly arcs through the air. James raised his rifle but felt a sharp pain and recoiled backwards without firing a shot. He retreated behind a crate and discovered an ear dangling by a single thread of cartilage. Devreaux's men aimed their missiles. The black Abrahams II boomed. Devreaux saw the end near and jumped from the crate, narrowly missing the fireball that engulfed his men. The concussion of the tank blew James off of his feet, slamming his head hard on the concrete. Noise pinged loudly in his ears and his vision blurred. Figures ran back and forth. Flames spit from a rifle but he couldn’t make out who was shooting who. Something cold and wet splashed onto James' face as he lay on the floor, stunned.
A green barrel had overturned in front of him. Clear liquid gushed out, pooling on the floor around his face. James' mind flashed to the last Fourth of July he had been able to spend with his boys. This was years ago but the fireworks danced in front of his eyes like it was happening all over again. James saw a tiny spark float slowly through the air to land on the ground near the barrel. A massive wall of fire encompassed the whole of his vision and as the flames crept towards him, he smiled. Maybe this is what death feels like. He welcomed it. James heard the innocent laughter of his children. “And now the finale!” His oldest yelled at him with a smile.
The flames touched his face. Captain James Lasko screamed.
Birds chirped overhead in the ancient oaks. The huge wooden creatures cast wide shadows on the people below. The Slaughter family had placed the picnic tables in this part of the yard years ago for family gatherings and cheerful community barbeques. Now, the tables held grim gun toting survivors. One man stood in front of them.
