by Nathan Ward
'It worked, it actually finally worked!' was the thought that danced through his mind as a menacing grin glued itself to his face.
“What was that, Captain?” shouted one of his soldiers from further down the wall. Jordan turned to look in the direction from which the voice had come and replied: “Hard work, that’s what that was, it all pays off in the end!” and now he was feeling empowered, already victorious by the way the tide had instantly turned. He returned his gaze to the hole in the wall that had begun to emerge through the dust, but to his surprise he witnessed yet another gun shot, a bullet flew through the dust cloud, fired with marks man precision as it hit the eye socket of a nearby guardsman who had risen from his defensive position to take a look in to the courtyard. He was felled instantly, his lifeless body dropped over the ledge and fell heavily as the sound of cracking and snapping bones filled the air. Then silence fell for a brief moment as everyone present looked down in what seemed like slow motion, all in total disbelief.
They watched as the pool of crimson expanded out from underneath the fallen soldiers’ body staining the pure white leathers he was sporting. Jordan slowly raised his arm and pointed in the direction that the gun shot had come from and bellowed a single word in murderous rage:
“FIRE!”
Then all nine of the wall defense unleashed a volley of shots in and around the wall opening, desperately hoping to hit the enemy with one final, deadly assault. Jordan watched on as the shots were unloaded into the dust cloud, hoping to hear the cries of the wounded, the screams of the dying - but only gun shots echoed around the fort, whoever they were firing at had the advantage of invisibility for the moment but Jordan didn’t care as he continued to order that the area was to be bombarded by gunfire, and so the men continued to empty rounds of ammunition, firing incessantly into the dust cloud.
Chapter 14: Blood, Sweat and Tears
The dust had begun to clear while the guardsmen took a moment to reload their 101 rifle elites, releasing the empty ammo cartridges from under the rifle and replacing them with the replenished ammunition that had been hooked to their belts. Jordan squinted as he panned his gaze over the chaos as rubble fell from the walls and dust danced from the stone that had been torn apart by the gunfire. The dusty haze was settling and the newly formed opening sat prominently in Jordan’s sights, but the remains of the enemy were no where to be seen.
One question ran through his mind as he surveyed the chaos:
No one could have possibly survived that, could they?
Jordan had silently asked that question feeling utterly bewildered by the lack of remnants that should have been scattered over the debris that ought to have been covered in fresh and fleshy crimson - drenched matter, but there was nothing - which angered the Captain as he stood glaring into the blackness beyond the dust. As Jordan prepared himself to head down to the carnage he noticed something in the corner of his eye, just for a second. He returned his gaze to the dark opening in the wall, and then suddenly the silhouette of a figure dashed past the fort wall, avoiding the second wave of bullets that suddenly fired in the same direction once again in an attempt to take out the enemy that had somehow survived and started to move along the inner wall.
Now faced with more of this onslaught, Jordan had begun to fear for the life of his wife, so knowing the intruder was still within the walls of the fortress, he began to make his way along the upper wall, passing behind his guardsmen who were still unloading lead along the opposite lower wall in the direction that the figure had dispersed, in the hope that a stray bullet would find its way into the intruder but they ducked and dived until they came to an opening in the ground, they didn’t think twice and began to descend down in to a deep dark pit.
This deep darkness was the very same pit that Joy had been held prisoner in and had remained on her knees with the barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead. Alana had started to swing the stock of the rifle against the side of Joy’s face, the force and weight of the weapon had opened up a fresh gouge along her brow. It was obvious that Joy couldn’t take much more of this torture, one more swing would be all it took before she’d be struck to the crimson soaked ground, but she still managed to hold her head high, ready for the next attempt but also knowing that Alana wasn’t in the best of form and could pass out at any moment - which was a risk she was willing to take, one last gamble...
“Why won’t you just die!” Yelped Alana, taking another swing at Joy, propelling her head away from her body. Joy slowly reverted her gaze as crimson poured down and over her left eye, impairing her vision.
“Because it’s not my time, sweetheart. Now put down the gun, let me attend to your wound before you pass out…” replied Joy in a measured tone, as she silently concluded that she was just about holding herself together by the skin of her teeth.
“You’re not touching me!” screamed Alana as the uniformed guard looked over awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Alana had begun to hoist the rifle above her head one last time knowing that Joy was not going to last much longer, but she was running out of strength herself, her arms were trembling and the rifle shook as it began to fall towards Joy's blood soaked face, but suddenly an unknown intruder dived from the top of the dungeon stairs, breaking their fall with a roll and emerging into the warm orange glow of the burning flames. It was Sasha.
She reached for the rifle held by Alana and yanked it from her hands, pulling the woman backwards in to the blood soaked ground.
The bodyguard sprang in to action, desperately advancing towards Sasha, who stood over Alana glaring down at her disgusting bloody face. As the guard began to pass the shackled Joy his stride was suddenly knocked off balance and he found himself landing face first in a deep pool of crimson. Joy latched herself on to his leg and slowly pulled him back towards her until his face was directly in line with hers. She pushed against the guard, rolling him over on to his back. The glass visor installed inside his helmet had cracked along the surface when it collided with the ground, so Joy slammed her shackled wrist against it, causing it to shatter in to shards of glass fragments inside the helmet. The guard shook his head vigorously to get the shards off his face, but some had impaled themselves in to his flesh as if they had become as stuck as miniature fish hooks, but he had not even noticed the pain as they embedded as he realized that glaring in to his petrified eyes was the prisoner – the crimson soaked face of Joy was peering inside the helmet like a predator prepared to pounce on its prey - but she didn’t. Instead she whispered innocently four words:
“On your way, son.”
Joy had never seen someone leap to their feet so fast, the guard was up and climbing the stone stairwell before she had a chance to wish him a safe journey, but she didn’t mind so much because sat across from her was something that deserved her full attention, silver treasure gleaming in a pool of crimson - the keys to her shackles...
The Soldier stumbled up the last few steps and eventually emerged into the torch lit corridor, breathing heavily and unsure what to do - after all, he had just abandoned his Captains’ wife, god alone knew what he would do to him if he were to find out, and knowing Jordan, he would probably consult his Lord on a suitable death to pay for the crime.
The soldier hastily ran in the direction of the rubble which lead straight out in to the courtyard, where the sun beamed down into his eyes and burned at his flesh, enhancing the bitter soreness of the glass impaled wounds around his cheeks, but pain was the last of his worries as he was also met with a bombardment of precise sniper rounds tearing through his flesh and suit. The soldier fell to his knees in a daze, glaring up at the silhouettes of his team mates that had just struck him down. They stood behind the high wall in deep shock at realization of what they had just done, not expecting one of their own to emerge from the ruins. They watched painfully as deep, dark crimson poured from the three bullet wounds around his chest. The wounded soldier took one final breath of air, one last moment of life and then collapsed into the stone debris that had s
hattered across the courtyard.
Captain Jordan scowled down at the soldiers’ final resting place, knowing how ridiculous this had made them all look, but even more troubled by the fact that his wife’s bodyguard had just been gunned down. The Captain continued to bulldoze his way past the guards with the steel javelin wielded in one hand and Frankenstein's creation in the other. He passed the mutilated head on the ground then finally reached the top of the stone slabs and descended down to the second level with his sights still set on the bloody corpse laid in the courtyard.
Captain Jordan continued to advance, nearing the final set of steps leading down into the under passage, but as he approached a figure struck him with force across the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and his firearm out of his hand. It fell to the ground and clattered off the side of the wall into the courtyard. Jordan took a moment to regain his composure, looking up at the mysterious figure which had begun to draw a steel sword from the sheath on its back. Judging by the uniform this person had been through the wars and if Jordan trusted his instinct he was almost certain it was another Captain – and he was right:
It was Captain Murdock.
“Stand down, Captain! This UNA facility is being shut down, today!” yelled Murdock.
“What makes you think it’s being run by the UNA, we wear the protective clothing like yourself but that does NOT make us UNA slaves!” responded Jordan, keeping a tight grip on his javelin, expecting Murdock to make a daring advance.
“Then who are you?” Murdock asked as he stood his ground, blocking the entrance down in to the complex.
“A community, forged with fire. Those who oppose us, those who will not join us have no place among our people. You are going to have to leave, Captain. I insist, before things turn ugly.” Jordan replied.
He had also took a grasp of the ground he stood upon, raising the javelin with its tip pointed towards Murdock who stood a few meters in front of him also holding his steel sword in a defensive stance, uncertain of how the situation would unfold.
“We’re just here in search of supplies. Some water and food, then we’ll be on our way. We have our own community too; they’re in a much worse state than you can imagine, believe me. We’re just trying our very best to help them…Said Murdock, trying to pull at what heart strings Captain Jordan might have left – if he had any at all to begin with. It was a desperate attempt to make a plea for reason, but going by the fury he saw in Jordan's eyes, the Captain was having none of it.
“I’m sorry, I really am but what we have, we worked for. We have enough to feed our own … you’re going to have to leave, Captain!”
“Well I’m also sorry,” Murdock replied, “Because whether you like it or not, we HAVE to leave here with what we came for!”
“You can try,” Jordan claimed, sternly meeting the gaze of his enemy.
Then Captain Jordan thrust his stainless steel Javelin at Murdock, who swiftly took a side step to avoid the sharp point penetrating his weakened leathers. Murdock took an effortless swipe at the javelin with his sword, the javelin sliced like a knife through butter, making the weapon now harmless. The tip of the javelin fell and rolled off the side of the walkway into the courtyard, which by now seemed to have become the garbage heap.
Jordan quickly flipped his javelin introducing the other end which was sharply intact, then he continued to try and wound Murdock, thrusting the javelin in and out towards him but Murdock dodged every attempt. He had been specially trained for situations like these prior to joining the UNA so he wasn’t going to give in so easily, he once again countered Jordan’s final plunge by making a swift surprise move, grabbing the javelin and yanking it from his hands.
Both Captains trembled and stumbled into an unbalanced fall, Murdock fell on to his back and Jordan took advantage, landing on top of him and quickly disarming the compromised Captain, throwing both the javelin and the steel sword into the courtyard, and both weapons landed heavily with an ear splitting clatter of steel upon stone.
Jordan grasped on to Murdock’s neck with both strong hands and started to squeeze in an attempt to crush his throat and be done with the brawl, and his adrenaline flowed as he thought how he was saving his community from the threatening opposition. The thought was enough to make his blood sing in his veins. Murdock desperately gasped and spluttered, trying to focus on some way to turn the situation on its head but he knew if he couldn’t, then the face of Captain Jordan staring down at him would be the last thing he would ever see.
The nine guardsmen watched on through their scopes, tempted to put a bullet between the intruders’ eyes but rightfully hesitant, knowing that Jordan would want to finish the fight himself, so they waited patiently, looking into the blood shot eyes of Murdock as their valiant leader slowly and painfully choked the man to death.
Chapter 15: Close Combat
Jordan’s clutches had tightened even further around Murdock’s neck, his face had begun to look as if it was preparing to explode, his veins had surfaced from under the flesh and the colour of his face was now a deep rich purple which could only mean his air supply had now been completely cut off, and this sight made Jordan grin like a deranged Cheshire cat as he watched his enemy slowly but surely slip closer to death, Murdock’s vision had blurred and a deafening hum had amplified within his ear drums, a constant high pitched ringing that completely shut out the sound of silence - but before the end came, Murdock begun to feel a sudden ease around his throat as if Jordan’s grip had loosened, ever so slightly. There wasn’t going to be another opportunity to try and save his own life, so Murdock seized the moment, latching his hands around what felt like Jordan’s wrists - his vision was still a blur but he could just about make out the outline of the silhouetted figure standing over him. Murdock bravely began to pull Jordan’s arms away, heaving with every last shred of the will to survive that was left inside him, until his hands had begun to separate from his swollen neck. Murdock could now make out the struggling expression that had formed on Jordan’s face as he eagerly attempted to counter the wrestle, but the two Captains were locked in a stalemate fueled by adrenaline, their arms trembling in frustrated aggression until finally Murdock made his move, thrusting his forehead into the unsuspecting face of Jordan, knocking him backwards, as his nose fractured with a loud crack.
Suddenly Enrique dived to Murdock’s rescue, falling from a flag pole and throwing himself upon one of the guardsmen who was about to gun down his Captain. They both hit the ground with a bone crunching thud, attracting the attention of the other eight snipers positioned along the wall; they turned to witness the two bodies scrambling to their feet from the stone walkway.
Enrique drew one of his trusty axes from its holster and took a forceful hack at the guardsman’s wrist, severing his hand cleanly from his arm. The 101 elite sniper rifle fell abruptly to the ground with the guards hand still grasped around the handle. Before the amputee could let out a shriek of pain, Enrique’s axe had already found its way in to his thick neck, launching slivers of flesh in to the path of the guardsmen watching from afar. The guard's deep crimson bodily fluid had exploded over Enrique’s face, but the shower of blood had not fazed him in the slightest. As it poured over him he reached out, grabbing on to the lifeless body standing in front of him and pulling it against him, using the corpse as a shield, soaking up the eight rounds that had been loaded in to the elite rifles and shot in the direction of Enrique. The bullets ripped through the guardsman’s leathers with ease and embedded themselves in to his body, Enrique wasn’t fond of the idea of using another human being to save his own skin, but he knew there was no other way because there was no chance the fortress would stand down - not before putting up a decent, honorable fight to the bitter end.
“Bring him down!” yelled one of the guards who had backed away towards the others who now huddled together with their long sleek sniper rifles pointed towards the shuffling corpse of their fallen comrade. Edging forward ever so slightly while holding the dead weight of
his prey, Enrique advanced towards the huddle – all the while feeling every pound of vibration from the bullets as they made impact into the flesh of the meat shield.
This should buy the Captain some time, was the thought than ran through the mind of Enrique, who was standing his ground and still moving himself in the direction of his enemy who had fearfully begun to tremble, missing the occasional shot.
The sound of gun fire filled the unsettled air; Murdock could once again make out the occasional sound against the high pitched buzzing that had dimmed ever so slightly since being able to fill his lungs at last with precious gasps of oxygen.
He looked down at the bloody mess as Jordan found his way back on to his knees as crimson poured from his nose and dripped downwards, heavily staining the stone he knelt on.
Murdock stood over him like the thundering force he was, the embodiment of thunder and lightning rolled in to one, he knew there was only one way this fight could end and what was on the line if he was to fail, but so did Jordan as he wiped his tatty uniform sleeve against his blood stained face.
“I’m sorry, I really am. We’ve just come for some food and water…” Murdock said weakly as he looked down at Jordan.
“And as I said, you’re not welcome to any of it. We worked for it, the children and families of our community deserve every drop of it and I promise you, you will have to kill me before you take any!” Jordan fumed, raising his head to meet Murdock’s gaze.
“We thought we could negotiate. Until one of your men put a gun to my head, then we knew we had no hope, but he was willing to take my life before allowing us time to explain who we were and where we had come from!”
“So you killed him, my man who was just obeying orders I’d given him?”
