Grunt Hero

by Weston Ochse

  Before we got to the next space, I slowed and had everyone stop. A four count later, two missiles sped through the space we would have been in. They continued towards the airport and took out a hangar. I signaled for us to move again. We were able to make the far corner of the next building before anything else appeared.

  I was peeking around the corner when three UGOs bounded towards us from our rear.

  Liebl and Jackson opened fire, but instead of carrying a machine gun, these were carrying explosives. Suicidal, no-headed mechanical canines. The blast wave sent us all sprawling. My HUD sizzled but came back on. As I got to my feet, I checked vitals on my squad. All were still at a hundred percent and their suits were functioning. I was still locked out of Liebl’s and Jackson’s, but my visual told me everything I wanted to know. Jackson’s faceplate was shattered and a six inch piece of metal jutted from his face. No need to check his vitals. Liebl, on the other hand, was still ambulatory. He was having trouble climbing to his feet. I stepped over and gave him a hand. The front of his EXO was covered in scorch marks, but he seemed otherwise okay.

  “Let’s not do that again,” I said to the squad.

  Then I peeked around the corner and targeted six UGOs. I sent the locations to Earl and ordered him to fire.

  Six rockets arced up and down. Once the explosions died, I said, “On my mark, we move at full speed to point Bravo. Everyone ready?”

  I got two nods and a thumbs up.

  “Go!”

  We turned the corner and sprinted forward, immediately encountering hostile action. Fire came from directly in front us. I took a few hits before both Stranz and I unloaded a hundred rounds on the position, silencing the oncoming fire. I heard the others firing as well. A UGF came at me from the left and I slashed at it with my harmonic blade. It danced aside, tumbled, then righted itself. Liebl managed to shoot it before it could get away.

  We continued sprinting towards our objective, continuing to lay down a devastating rain of fire.

  Then suddenly we were there. Point Bravo. Two automatic machine guns on sentry turrets lay smoking and wrecked behind a ruined pile of sandbags.

  Rather than shoving them aside, I climbed over the top. “Form into fighting positions and be ready to move.”

  Pearl, Stranz and Liebl climbed over the bags and knelt, aiming their miniguns in four different directions. I ported into Ohirra’s feed to see if Earl was okay.

  “Olivares, we’re in position. What’s your status?”

  “We lost Coops. Charlemagne was hit as well, but he’s still able to return fire. Those damned mechanical dogs have explosives!”

  “Have you designated targets?”

  “Roger, sending now.”

  A pop-up appeared in my HUD, showing me the locations of enemy fire. If we were able to get atop a three story building, we could have the high ground. Meanwhile, I sent the locations to Earl for targeting and decimation.

  I plugged Point Charlie into the pop-up and sent it to the rest of the squad, then we made our move. We passed two buildings before we got to the three story I needed. The front doors were locked so I kicked them in. Stranz was the first one through and he led us up wide marble steps. The building was identified as Mission Headquarters and was probably where all the brass sat and shat. We made the third floor without incident.

  After a moment, we found roof access. Stranz had just opened the access hatch when he was plucked bodily through it. The next thing I saw was him falling from the roof outside the window. I ran to it and watched as he plummeted to the ground. I checked his vitals but his EXO was offline.

  “What the fuck did that?” Earl asked.

  I stared at the roof access hatch which had closed. “I have no idea.”

  Water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.

  Bruce Lee

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “PEARL, SEE IF there’s another access point to the roof.”

  She moved swiftly down the hall.

  “Liebl, post at this access and advance on command.”

  “I’m not going up there,” he said, his voice steady and even.

  “It talks.” I stepped forward and slammed my visor into his. “You will go up there on command.” I locked eyes with him, daring him to do something. Finally, he averted his gaze. “Do I hear a WILCO?”

  His eyes flicked back towards mine. Then he said, “WILCO,” in a small voice.

  I turned away from the blue falcon. I had little faith that he’d actually do it. But until that moment, we both had to pretend he would. I glared at the ceiling. What was up there? Was it an alien? Was it a Cray?

  Pearl came running back. When I looked at her, she shook her head.

  How were we going to make it to the roof? Going one by one up the ladder and through the hatch was suicide. We had to find another way up… find a way to distract whatever was on the roof.

  Then I had an idea.

  I told Pearl and Liebl my plan.

  By the looks on their faces, I could tell they approved, especially Liebl.

  I went to the end of the hall and found an office.

  Pearl found an office opposite the roof access.

  I counted to three on the command channel and we both opened fire at the ceiling. Cinders, chunks of wood, and drywall rained down on me. I kept firing until I could see sky.

  “Now,” I shouted.

  Hopefully, Liebl was opening the hatch and standing beneath it ready to shoot anything that stuck its ugly face in his field of fire.

  I stopped firing. While the six barrels spun to a stop, I pulled free my harmonic blade and hacked at the space above me until it made a hole big enough for me to climb through.

  I sheathed the blade and announced, “Ready.”

  Liebl shouted, “Ready!”

  But nothing from Pearl.

  I shouted it again, as did Liebl. Still nothing.

  “Pearl, status.”

  Then I heard what sounded like a gargle.

  “Liebl, move!”

  I reached up and pulled myself out of the office and onto the roof. I saw Liebl coming out of the hatch. But other than a complex control module powered by an almost silent generator on the other side of the roof, I didn’t see anything.

  I started to run over to where Pearl had made her hole when a great beast of an EXO pulled itself out of the hole to stand on the roof. It was definitely an EXO, but it wasn’t Pearl’s. It wasn’t even close to being hers. This EXO was easily the biggest I’d ever seen. Twice as large as mine in both height and heft, it was gunmetal grey with only red, white and blue shoulder adornments in the shape of epaulettes. Unlike our suits, whose primary weapon was a built-in minigun with a retractable harness system, this EXO carried an M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun like it was a child’s toy. The cannon, an armament that was meant to be mounted on a tripod or on a vehicle, was this EXO’s personal weapon and almost looked diminutive in its metallic hands. The .50 caliber round was more than three times longer than the 5.56 rounds used in my XM214 minigun and more than twice in diameter. I’m not sure my EXO could survive a single shot.

  This super EXO was different in a lot of other ways, too. Instead of a bulletproof faceplate, the metal of the body carried upwards like a medieval knight’s helm, leaving a thin slit covered with dark glass as its only way to see. Unshielded mechanical actuators were affixed to every joint, lending electronically-powered assistance to the human inside. A thick cable covered in metal skin ran from each side of the helm to the back. Wicked spikes protruded from the elbows, knees and feet.

  I felt my anger erupt. Instead of working collectively to defeat an alien presence, the New United States of North America decided to put all of their design and ingenious effort into creating something that wouldn’t stand up against the EMP effects of an alien, but was instead designed to wound, maim and murder humans. Like OMBRA had initially been before they became the de facto savior of the planet, NUSNA’s selfish actions did more to erode their own
humanity than any other action could.

  As the super EXO began to bring the .50 cal to bear, I leaped high, firing as I did, sending a hundred rounds into the EXO’s face. Half of my shots missed, but the other half hit, resulting in a scored and pitted view plate which I hoped would blind the damn thing. My barrel spun empty as another 500 round magazine was snapping into place.

  I came down on the super EXO’s .50 cal. My weight was more than it could take and it was forced to let go. As it dropped to the ground, I kicked at it. I’d barely managed to move it aside when I felt a comet punch me in the chest and I went flying. I hit the roof and skidded on my back all the way to the edge. I managed to stop before I plummeted over, my head dangling forty feet above the ground.

  The super EXO reached down to pick up his machine gun. If he was able to fire it, I was a goner.

  Then Liebl did something right. He employed his Hydra rocket system and let loose one of the 2.75 inch rockets. With two pounds of composite B4 high explosive traveling at 2,300 feet per second, it could take out a—

  My heart sunk as it struck the front of the super EXO and shattered into a million pieces. The only effect it had on the super EXO was to knock it back a step.

  The Hydra M433 variant had ten meter arming delay as a safety mechanism, making it as effective as a crossbow bolt.

  But it did succeed in getting the super EXO’s attention.

  I took the moment to pull myself away from the roof edge and struggled to my feet.

  Liebl redeployed his Hydra and brought out his minigun, but it took critical seconds and was long enough for the super EXO to stride across the roof and grab the gun before it could be brought up. Liebl grunted with effort over the command net as he used his left hand to help get the minigun pointed at his target. But he hadn’t the strength. Suddenly the super EXO brought around its free hand and hammered the side of Liebl’s head. He fell to a knee. The super EXO hammered the head again and Liebl went to the ground.

  His vitals were steady but his blood pressure was thready. Knocked out cold.

  I ran at the super EXO and caught it on the side right as it was turning. It didn’t flinch and flung me off like I was a bug.

  Damn, but this was one bad ass EXO.

  I drew my harmonic blade, held it in a two handed grip and said, “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my sergeant, motherfucker, so prepare to die.”

  Then I swung.

  It had enough sense to step back.

  I swung again and it stepped back again.

  I kept swinging, hoping I could herd it off the roof, but it must have sensed the danger and began to move to the right with each step. Still, it was heading towards the edge. Then I swung and before I could bring the blade back around, the super EXO threw a shoulder into me and pushed. I tried to find purchase with my feet, but the thing drove me across the roof. I tried to bring my blade around, but it caught my hand in its and wouldn’t let it go.

  I did the first thing that came to mind. I let go of the blade with my left hand, reached up and grabbed hold of the cable that came out of the left side of its helmet, and ripped it free.

  The super EXO picked me up and slammed me to the ground.

  I lay there, gasping, razorblade-wielding unicorns dancing before my eyes.

  I glanced at my right hand and realized I’d somehow hung on to my blade.

  The super EXO was trying without success to reattach the cable I’d pulled out.

  I took a deep breath, then sat up and brought the blade around in an arc, intersecting the super EXO’s knee. The vibrating metal of the blade bit in several inches but didn’t sever the leg. Whatever material they’d used to harden the EXO was stronger than I expected.

  Still, blood welled from the cut as soon as I pulled the blade free.

  The super EXO took several steps backwards.

  I got to my feet.

  “Okay, let’s try this again,” I said. “My name is Benjamin Carter Mason. You killed my sergeant. Prepare to die.”

  I lunged towards him. This time, instead of swinging, I stabbed with my blade.

  It reached out once to try and stop my weapon and got its hand pierced for its efforts.

  I stabbed two more times and it ran at me. I tried to step to the side but couldn’t get completely out of the way in time. It had also timed its move as I was pulling back the blade, so it easily pushed away as it spun, burying one of the elbow spikes in my left side.

  I gasped at the white hot pain that shot through me. I tasted blood and copper in my mouth.

  I tried to pull away, but I was impaled by the damned thing. That’s when I knew I was going to die. I couldn’t move and it wasn’t about to let go and lose its advantage. All it had to do was wait until I lost enough blood, then finish me off. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. This wasn’t the way I was supposed to die, and certainly not at the hands of a fellow human.

  I checked my vitals and saw them falling.

  Then I felt the super EXO jerk.

  The point of a harmonic blade thrust out of the visor window on its helm, coming within inches of piercing my own. I stared at the blood dripping off the tip of the vibrating blade, then watched as it was pulled back out.

  When the super EXO fell, it took me with it, bringing me along on a new wave of pain.

  I think I blacked out, because when I came to, Pearl was standing over me and the super EXO was nowhere to be seen.

  Then the zombie version of Stranz walked up in his underwear, his face covered with blood, right arm missing, and I knew I was in a nightmare.

  My question is, why are you coming in here and laying turds all over our yard? First you badmouth OMBRA. Where was the United States when OMBRA came to their door warning them? Where were you when the shit hit the fan? And coming in after the fact to try and measure the viability of one man’s heroism against the threat of annihilation is something I’d expect from a sophomoric congressional aide, not from a military officer.

  Lt. Olivares, speaking

  to Maj Dewhurst about the

  New United States of North America

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TURNS OUT I was still awake. Stranz had survived the fall but his suit hadn’t, so all he had to wear were his Kevlar shorts and his toe shoes. For the first time I saw what I’d done to his arm. The lower part was removed right above the elbow. I pulled myself to a sitting position. What had happened?

  “The battle is over is what happened,” Olivares said over the command net. “Whatever you did up there shut down all the sentry guns and those strange mechanical dogs with bombs.”

  I glanced at Pearl, whose EXO showed scratches and dents, as if she’d gone through a wash cycle with a box of razor blades. “When I fired on the roof, that beast was above me. Fell right on top of me. Wasn’t sure if I was going to make it until you got on the roof and it went after you.”

  “What happened to it?” I said, wincing as pain shot through my side.

  “Over the roof edge,” Liebl said, offering me a hand up. He pulled me to my feet, then gave me my blade.

  I resheathed it, and cried out as the movement sent what felt like foot-long shards of glass into my side. I checked my vitals and they weren’t good. I was going to have to get out of this suit soon and see what the damage was.

  “Looks like she was controlling the sentry guns and the mechanical canines using that contraption,” Pearl said, pointing to the control panels I’d seen earlier. “Once I killed the bitch, I turned off the transmitter and everything just stopped.”

  “The gigantic thing I was fighting was a woman?”

  Pearl shoved out her hip and gave me a look.

  “What I meant was, that EXO was humongous.”

  “Well, she must have been a basketball player. Here.” Pearl sent me a photo packet on the command channel. “I snapped this because I knew you wouldn’t believe it.”

  I gaze-flicked the packet open and saw the face—or at least most of the face—of a woma
n. Blond hair shaved close to her scalp, pointed chin and high cheekbones. I’d have to guess the color of her eyes because that’s where the blade had come out when Pearl had shoved it through.

  “Olivares, report.”

  The reply came immediately. “We lost Coops. Charlemagne is wounded but functional.”

  “We lost Jackson, Stranz broke his suit as did Earl, and I just got my ass whooped by the biggest EXO you ever saw, plus I think I have a punctured spleen.”

  Totally ignoring my own predicament, Olivares asked, “How’d Stranz break his suit?”

  “Let himself get thrown off a three story building by the same EXO that kicked my ass.”

  “Thought the EXOs were stronger than that.”

  “You can call the warranty in later, Olivares.”

  “And Earl?”

  “Leg joint. Can’t move. Everything safe down there?”

  “Roger.”

  “Then let’s get everyone together and get what we came here for.”

  I commanded Earl to abandon his suit and head in our direction.

  I turned to Stranz. “You okay, sergeant?”

  “Everything’s a little fizzy, but I’ll survive.”

  I noted his 82nd Airborne tattoo on the shoulder of the arm I’d sliced off.

  “You always had that?”

  He nodded. “You missed that one but I no longer have a tattoo of my girlfriend’s name.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Susan,” he said, grinning behind the blood that was smeared across his face. He must have broken his nose. “There was an old school Sailor Jerry style picture of a mermaid on my forearm with her name beneath it”

  “What was she like?”

  “She wanted kids is what she was like, and all I wanted to do was deploy.”

  I’d led dozens of young men like Stranz. During their first deployment, they were terrified—jumping at every sound, twitching on patrols, eyes crazy with what they didn’t know. Then they’d redeploy back to the land of women and easy days and they’d love it at first, relishing the freedom from the constant tension. But eventually boredom would overcome them. They’d get that far away stare and remember that they’d survived and how every day was a different challenge. They’d remember how close they got to their brothers in arms, relationships far closer than any other they’d had. Then they’d remember the tension, life balanced on the head of a grenade pin, so much fuller than playing video games. While Call of Duty was the methadone, actual combat was the heroine, and every last one of them wanted to mainline the freedom to fight for what they loved. They’d find a way to get back in the war, serve a tour of duty, and eventually return home again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. And every time their enjoyment of the easy days would become less and less, until they couldn’t stand the sight of their girls or their families or their home life, discovering that they were only truly alive when they were in combat.