Grunt Hero

by Weston Ochse

  “But you eventually succeeded. You were the Hero of the Mound.”

  I shook my head. “Like Hero Prime, that’s all propaganda. My point is that I’m so fucked up in the head I might be a handicap to the mission.”

  He lowered his eyes, then climbed up on the palette beside me. He held his hands out before him and stared at them. “You’re no different than any one of us now. Maybe before, but not now.” I was about to argue, but he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I killed my mother two years ago.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “She was visiting her cousin in Stockton when the invasion hit. I was assigned to Fort Irwin and went AWOL immediately. Hell, most of us left, more concerned for our families than protecting a red, white and blue idea. America doesn’t even exist anymore. This New United States of North America is just some old guys trying to grasp onto a failed experiment. Now there’s only OMBRA. For good or bad, OMBRA is all that means anything.”

  He breathed through his nose, his lips tight.

  “Your mother,” I nudged.

  “Yeah, Moms was visiting Latricia in Stockton. I managed to make it there in three days. You were in training and didn’t see it, but the world went straight back to the Dark Ages. There was no law, there was no civilization. People charged head first into their basic instincts. When I found the house, Latricia lay face down in the kitchen. I could tell she’d been repeatedly raped. She had blood all over her.” He wiped a tear away. “She was dead. Took me two more days to find my Moms. A group of teenaged boys had rounded up all the older women and were using them as sex slaves. My mom was one of them, kept with the others in an old slaughterhouse.

  “I was barely twenty then, so I looked a lot like them. I infiltrated their group. To keep up appearances, I had to be part of the raping of three women.” He suddenly looked me in the eyes. “Know what’s worse than raping a woman and hearing her scream? Raping a woman and not hearing her scream. All three of them just took it. Those boys had fucked the humanity right of them.” He looked back at his hands. “That night I killed nine of the boys. Stabbed seven of them in their sleep, and fought the other two. They thought they were tough, but they weren’t. Just fucking teenagers at the end of the world thinking their life had become a video game. Fucking Grand Theft Auto.

  “They were trained to win first person shooters. The difference was that I was a first person shooter. 11B. Infantry. I hunted the rest down and shot them all. By the time I was done, it was sunrise. When I went to free the women… when I opened the gates that were keeping them in, guess what they did?” He looked at me.

  I shook my head.

  “They did nothing. They just stood there and waited. They thought I was just another rapist coming to rape them some more. It never once crossed their mind that I’d come there to free them. So I grabbed my Moms and left.” He closed his eyes. “Moms was broken—in her mind and body. She couldn’t speak and she could barely walk. But I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted to get as far away from Stockton as possible. I forced her to walk with me. The roads were clogged with vehicles that had run out of gas. If it had been just me, I’d have used a motorcycle like I’d done to get there. But my Moms was in no condition to ride. In fact, she was in no condition to walk. The morning of day three she began puking blood. It was then I noticed her entire torso was layered with purple and green bruises. She had internal bleeding.

  “You see, had I stayed in Stockton and taken her to a competent medical authority, she might have lived. But I’d force marched her seventy miles away into the middle of nowhere. She died that night. I buried her the next morning near mile marker 391 on Interstate 5.”

  I let the silence gather around us before I spoke. “There was nothing you could do.”

  “I know. I’ve heard it all before. Even if I’d found someone willing to take care of her, chances are she would have died anyway. I know it.” He poked hard at his head with his forefinger. “But up here doesn’t get that. It keeps telling me that there was something I should have done differently. My brain won’t let go of the idea that it was me who killed her instead of those damned boys.” Then he turned to me. “Just like your brain won’t let you forget. The more you try and hide it, the more it finds ways to remind you.”

  He slid off the pallet and stood, facing away from me. “It’s holding it inside that kills you. You don’t hold cancer inside. You ball it up and throw it the fuck away. Bad memories are worse in shadow. Let the light in. Confront them. It’s the only fucking way.” He turned his head slightly. “We have mission brief in five minutes. I expect you there, Hero Prime.” Then he walked forward and sat down, stone faced, staring at a map that was rolled out on the floor.

  Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.

  Seneca

  CHAPTER NINE

  I SPENT THAT five minutes thinking about Olivares, probably the best soldier I knew, and the one I’d hated most. I was actually sorry he’d died in Las Vegas. He had a way of bringing out the best in me. More than once he’d called me a shit soldier or a shit non-commissioned officer, and he’d been right each time. Once I got over being angry about the comment, I’d pulled myself up and corrected whatever it was I was doing.

  I watched Charlemagne, Merlin, Asterix, and Obelisk as they each sat apart, lost in their own realities. This was no unit. This was a group of individuals brought together for a common goal. As a unit they might survive. As individuals they wouldn’t stand a chance. I had no faith in any of them and no surety that if I was in a firefight and against the odds any of them would come to my aid. And they could say the same about me.

  A lot of the problem had to do with those damned call signs. Hero Prime, two cartoon characters and a medieval French hero. They were playing characters rather than being themselves. Mr. Pink, in his effort to motivate, had inadvertently created EXO fighters who fought using persona. I thought back to pro-wrestling and fighters like Cena and Hulk Hogan and The Undertaker. Each of them had signature moves. Was that what EXO fighting had come to? Was that who they were now? I’d been in the shit. I’d fought an entire hive and knew that I never had time for a signature move. My signature move was surviving. Whatever. If they wanted Hero Prime, I might just give it to them.

  I let my gaze stray to the EXOs. I hadn’t paid them much attention because I hadn’t really been into the mission, but now I noticed they were a slightly larger and a lot sleeker than versions one and two. The Hydra anti-air missile system was the same, as was the rotating machine gun. Each EXO also had a meter-long harmonic blade attached to a scabbard in the back. My guess was that the larger size had more to do with extra power and extra battery life. I’d have to be familiarized before we hit the mission… something I should have done already.

  Olivares again.

  You’re a shit soldier.

  I watched Nance studying the map and realized for the first time how far out of his element he was. The guy was a corporal. Sure, he was an eleven bang, but that didn’t mean he could lead. Even with the best of intentions, he’d failed to create a cohesive crew. My gaze shifted… and I’d brought Merlin into the center of it.

  I stood and walked over to where Nance sat. I noted that the map had little geographical features which indicated a flat plain. No way to hide us there. Not only would the drone of the C-130 give us away, but the sight of EXOs marching across the tundra would be unmistakable. There would be no element of surprise. We’d need to be on point and on mission.

  Nance glanced at me and I said, “I’ll take it from here, son.”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, then opened wide as he realized that I’d finally come on board. About time, you shit soldier.

  Nance’s face washed with relief. I nodded, sat on a seat beside him, then called the others over.

  Charlemagne and Merlin came first, both eager and bright-eyed. The brother and sister took their time. I counted to forty-five before they were actually sitting in place. If Nan
ce noticed, it didn’t seem to bother him. But it sure as hell bothered me. I knew I’d have to address it, but also understood that I couldn’t make enemies of them right before the mission.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. Captain Ohirra has sent us to find and retrieve any salvage we can from a spacecraft that crash landed. This is our first real chance to gain some insight into what sort of spacecraft the aliens have been using. As to which aliens they belong to, that’s yet to be determined. Curiously, OMBRA intercepted a Russian report of bodies. When translated, the report indicated that the remains of ‘human aliens’ were present. We’re not sure what that means, but we definitely need to see if we can get our hands on the remains so OMBRA can learn as much about them as they can before we have to face them. These could be the next enemy and we need to be prepared.”

  I paused to see if everyone was understanding what I was saying.

  Asterix raised her hand as if she were in school.

  I noted the behavior then nodded for her to proceed.

  “I thought Corporal Nance was in charge?”

  I shook my head. “You’re wrong. Lieutenant Mason is in charge.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she said dramatically, “I stand corrected.”

  “Yes, you do.” I gestured to the map on the floor. “Somewhere out in that nothing is our target. We can’t be sure whether the crash is contained or over a wide area. There might be debris for miles.”

  “What about the Russians?” Charlemagne asked.

  “Yeah. What about them?” asked Obelix.

  I glanced at Nance, who said, “The pilot is scanning frequencies. If the Russians are anywhere near, we’ll be able to pinpoint them. The problem is if they are near and they have radar, then we’ll have been made.”

  I nodded. “Right. We have to hope they’re either willing to share or don’t have any ground-to-air missile capabilities. Now, when we get on the ground we’re going to do things my way. We’re also changing designations.”

  Obelix frowned. “Changing designations?”

  “Your call signs for one. They’re not only ridiculous, but they’re too hard to say.”

  Charlemagne narrowed his eyes and looked to Nance for input. But Nance was equally surprised. The two French cartoons, however, were simmering, verging on outrage.

  “But our fans…” Asterix began.

  “Yeah, what about our fans?” Obelix said.

  I pinned them with my eyes. “Fans? The world is ending and you’re concerned about a loss of popularity?”

  “But you don’t understand—” she began.

  “What don’t I understand? That the alien Cray came and sent us back to the Dark Ages? Or is it that I don’t understand that the planet is being terraformed? After all, I probably forgot that I spent time in my own personal hell as a fungee’d zombie.”

  Merlin put his hand on my arm. “Easy, friend.”

  I shook off his touch and pointed at the pair. “Unless your fans are willing to come on this mission for you, they are no concern of mine or yours.” I scowled and said, “Fans,” like it was toxic.

  But Asterix wasn’t having it. She shook her head hard enough to make her brown hair sway across her eyes, reminding me of that weird girl in The Breakfast Club. “You don’t understand. Our scores are tied to our call signs. Without the call signs, it will mess up the entire record keeping system. Without the call signs, we can’t achieve the higher levels.”

  Dear God! Mr. Pink had turned our survival into a video game. I felt my blood begin to rise and tried to calm myself. But try as I might, the very idea behind what had been done was an insult to everyone who’d died.

  “Scores?” I spat the word. “You have targets and you have kills. Jesus, what the hell happened in the nine months I was away? Was killing the Cray becoming so easy that you had to make a game of it?”

  “Cray not so hard.” Obelix smiled. “We pick them off one by one. Easy.”

  “One by one. You’ve never been against a hive, have you? Try a thousand Cray coming at you and all you have is the trust of your squad.”

  Obelisk rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

  My ideas of not making enemies vanished under a wave of rage. I was on him faster than he could smirk, riding him down onto the unforgiving metal deck of the plane. One hand was wrapped around his throat and the other balled into a fist, my finger pointing at his face. “If you fucking roll your eyes at me one more time, I’m going to chew them out of your face.” I felt a hand on me, and yelled, “Get off!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Merlin pull out his knife and hold it out. “Not one of you touch him,” he said.

  Obelix wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t sneering. He wasn’t rolling his eyes. All of his attention was on the tip of my finger.

  “Leave my brother alone!” Asterix screamed.

  “This is a goddamn military unit, not high school,” I said to both of them, but particularly to the snot under my hand. “I’m the ranking officer. I say, you do. No comments. No facial expressions. I say, you do. Now say it.”

  Obelix still couldn’t take his eyes off my finger. So I slapped him. “Say it.”

  “I—I say, you d—d—do.”

  “The rest of you, say it.”

  All of them did, including Merlin and a grudging Asterix.

  I released Obelix neck and sat back, but didn’t stand. “What’s your name? Your real name.”

  “Earl,” he said, fear leaving him as he realized I wasn’t going to punch him. “Earl Stone.”

  I nodded. “What’s her name?”

  “Pearl. We’re Earl and Pearl Stone.”

  “Earl and Pearl. Cute. You are now Hero Three and she is Hero Four.”

  I got to my feet and pointed at Charlemagne. “You are Hero Two and Nance, you are Hero One.”

  “Who are you?” Charlemagne asked.

  “Hero Prime. Just like you said. Or you can just call me Prime.”

  Merlin, who was still standing with the knife in his hand, cleared his throat. “Uh, what should I be called?”

  I grinned. “Put the knife down, brother. You’re Merlin. Merlin’s a great name.” I turned towards the team, then reached down and helped Earl to his feet. “Now, you all want to be heroes? We can do that. We’re Hero Squad. Not one of us is more or less of a hero than the other. Your number of kills is irrelevant. I don’t want to hear them mentioned, unless it has something to do with helping each other out. Any questions?”

  Obelix stared at the ground, his fists balled. I knew the stance. I knew what he wanted.

  “You want to hit me, Hero Three?”

  Although he shook his head, his fists were balled.

  “Yes, you do. You want to hit me hard. What if I said I’d let you hit me?”

  He looked up, clearly not believing me.

  “Here’s the deal. You have every right to be mad. I shouldn’t have jumped you. I let my temper get the best of me. You want to hit me, I’ll let you.”

  I saw the fist coming from a hundred miles away. I could have easily dodged it, but I let it score me on the side of my face. Although the kid had put everything he had in it, the punch was no more powerful than the slap I’d given him. But he had to do it. I had to empower him. So I let my head roll with the punch.

  When I again looked at him, his head was held a little higher and he was ready for me.

  “That was a good one.”

  Then I surprised him by offering my hand.

  He accepted it with a soft grip.

  Pearl stared at her brother a mix of awe and fear on her face.

  “That the first time you’ve hit anyone?” I asked.

  “In real life?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Not even in an EXO?”

  He shook his head.

  Hadn’t he just said not in real—then it hit me—all of it—what Mr. Pink had done.

  “You’ve never been in the military have you?” I asked, l
ooking from the boy to the girl and back. They both shook their heads. I noted a spark of pride in the girl’s eyes. She had an impressive number of kills for someone without any military experience, as did the boy. And to think that all of their experience came from video games. Ender Wiggin proved it by destroying the buggers. Alex Rogan proved it by being the last starfighter and defending the frontier from the Ko-Dan Armada. Where before I’d thought Mr. Pink had been insane for setting up the new program, now I saw its genius.

  “Where’d you two come from?” I asked.

  “Salt Lake City,” she said.

  There’d been a hive there. I wondered how they’d missed it.

  Sensing my question, she answered, “We were spending a week in Park City when everything happened. After a few days, my father went back to SLC and my mother took us deeper into the mountains. It wasn’t until she got sick that we came out, but by then it was too late.”

  I nodded. Without modern medicine a simple flu could prove deadly.

  Earl spoke softly. “We heard on the radio that OMBRA was taking all comers. All of our friends, my father, everyone was killed. We just wanted to fight back. Turned out we were really good at it.”

  “What video games did you play?” I asked.

  Earl snorted.

  Pearl grinned. “All of them.” Then seeing my doubt, she added, “No, seriously. It takes us about a day to finish one.”

  “Hero level,” Earl said.

  “Always at hero level,” she added. “First Person Shooters are my favorite because they give me the instant gratification I need, but that one likes leveling,” she said pointing at her brother.

  He grinned, “Loot.”

  “Well, there’s no loot to be had fighting with the EXOs,” I said.

  “What about the alien tech?” Pearl asked.

  “And the remains?” Earl added.

  I couldn’t help but grin. “Okay, let me correct that. There’s loot this mission. Just remember that we’re working together. This isn’t a competition.”