by Casey Herzog
Callum stared back at his enemy, and the world suddenly narrowed down to the man on the drilling car and himself, only one hundred meters and a crowd of prisoners separating them.
Russell had recovered his alien blade at some point and was brandishing it while holding a rifle in the other. His bionic eye was whirring and clicking, focusing on the soldier standing within the horde of fleeing prisoners who were now backing away from the recently-arrived army from the mines. The tall, powerful leader lowered his blade to point at Callum. He breathed excitedly and ordered his driver forward without turning to look away from the soldier.
“This is insane,” Fillmore breathed. “We need to find a way out of here fast.”
Callum stepped away from the patrol officer and pulled something out from behind his back. A handgun was all he’d have available in the upcoming battle, but he’d make it count.
“Fight or flee, I don’t care. I’m going to stop Russell.” The soldier stepped forward, suddenly looking down at a hand on his arm holding him back. “What, Fillmore? I understand, you’re too important for this fight. I’m not asking for your help.” He looked back at Russell. The large vehicle was approaching and the killer was licking his lips in anticipation. A battle that had begun months ago in Ayia was about to reach its pinnacle. The bloody conclusion, Callum thought with a look of determination.
“Listen to me,” Fillmore growled. Callum turned to look at him. “I’m fighting with you.” The captain had a gun of his own in his hand, and the other patroller had a guard baton. “But we have to be smart, Callum.”
The car continued to approach, churning the ground as it pushed forward. Prisoners were throwing rocks at both the vehicle and the men around it — Russell’s men, Callum knew. Despite the fact that they had firearms and close combat weapons, the army surrounding the enhanced man didn’t fire, simply soaking up the damage and continuing their march forward. He’s ordered them to make it an interesting fight, surely. If they all fired at us, we’d be dead in moments. Furthermore, one of them could kill me from afar if they wanted to. It was an advantage. At the end of the day, Callum was content with just killing Russell and facing the consequences. Having a head start by not being shot at would help.
“What do you suggest?” he asked Fillmore absentmindedly, lifting his gun a few inches. His enemy would be within range soon. The prisoners around Callum and Fillmore were already starting to flee, some even desperately making their way back to the blocks where the guards were.
“We have to find a better place to fight. This field is going to become a slaughterhouse if they start firing, be smart! You’re a soldier, damn it!” Fillmore shook Callum hard, and only then did the soldier turn away from Russell and look into the captain’s eyes.
“Okay. Okay, let’s move.” Fillmore was right.
He looked back one last time at Russell and saw the man’s joy turn into rage as he spotted his enemy retreating from the battle. The man’s mouth opened to bark an order, and Callum already knew what was coming.
“Get down, Captain, get down!”
“Fire!” Russell screamed, and a barrage of gunfire erupted from his rifle and those below him. Dozens of fleeing prisoners died in an instant.
“Shit!” Fillmore yelled, throwing himself around the remains of a Coalition vehicle. Callum dragged himself close, as did the patroller. Bullets flew past them, and Fillmore cursed loudly.
“We need to move,” Callum said. “Bullets or not, they’re getting closer and running out of prisoners to fire at. We’re going to be sitting ducks here!”
Fillmore and the patroller looked at him and gestured in agreement.
“On the count of three, Captain?” the trooper asked.
Fillmore nodded.
“Three…two…one…go!”
They burst from their hiding position, both Callum and Fillmore firing back over their shoulders at Russell’s men. Machine gun fire tore up the ground around and behind them, but they managed to reach a trench-like crater in the ground.
“The way back in is too far away,” Fillmore breathed. “I don’t think we can get in unscathed. All of their guns are trained on us now.”
Callum agreed. He peeked back over the edge of the crater and a bullet whistled past his face, forcing him back down.
“Last stand?” he asked the two men beside him.
“No, fuck that,” Fillmore said. He rose a few inches. “We go now. Right now.”
The three of them took a deep breath and climbed to the very edge of the trench.
“One last charge,” the trooper said with a chuckle, and Fillmore nodded. An internal joke, surely, Callum thought. “Go!”
Callum’s eyes widened. He’d seen movement to one side of them, far from Russell’s army.
“Wait.”
Whooooshhhh…Boom.
The trio turned in time to see an entire half of Russell’s vehicle blow right off its tracks and fly into a section of his army, killing half a dozen men in an instant. Burning fuel rose into the air and the man himself was nowhere to be seen anymore.
“Who…” Callum began, but then he caught sight of the person who had fired the missile at Russell.
In a corner of the fence, where the chain-link met a thick, concrete wall, there stood a thin mercenary with a smoking anti-tank rocket launcher in his grip. Around him were a handful of men who watched the burning vehicle with excitement. The Whisperer turned to Callum and Fillmore and gave a smirk.
“You’re not doing this without me!” he yelled, quickly looking for cover as rifle fire pattered against the concrete around him.
“You fuckers,” Russell growled as he pulled himself from the wreckage of his vehicle and lifted his rifle. “I’m glad you’re all here today — I’m going to kill you all together.”
The moment’s distraction was enough for Callum.
“Run!” he yelled, and both Fillmore and the trooper sprinted out of the trench after him and towards the fence leading back into the block. A stray round knocked Fillmore’s man to his knees, and the captain returned to grab him. Callum turned and fired his entire clip at the attackers, but it was useless. The trooper was hit again, and Fillmore cried out as a bullet grazed him. “Just leave him!” Callum screamed, and they stumbled into the block and behind cover.
“Back already, I see?” a familiar voice said from the nearby ground, and Callum saw the Coalition officer with whom he’d had the dangerous exchange. The man was heavily wounded, although his rifle was still raised and covering the area around him. The corpses of guards were at his feet, though the prisoners who had killed them were also lying lifelessly a few yards away. He repelled our neighboring block’s attack. Impressive.
“He’s come in,” Fillmore said, “And there’s more men entering. We need to leave. What is the closest exit for…” He trailed off. “Useless Coalition bastard.”
The guard was dead, his blood loss finally getting the better off him. Callum grabbed a rifle off the ground and pointed to where the intruders had come from.
“That probably leads us further towards the outside world. We can’t lose hope.”
The echoes of an explosion reached them from the field. Reiner was not going to let Russell into the prison proper without a fight.
“Yes, let’s go and give the Whisperer some back-up. Perhaps I can still find patrol allies out there,” Fillmore said with a scowl as a Coalition guard stopped playing dead and fought him to avoid losing his rifle. “You shouldn’t be alive,” the captain snapped, slamming the butt of the weapon into the fallen soldier’s skull. It was ruthless, but necessary. “Let’s go.”
The sound of approaching men interrupted them, and a group of Russell supporters stepped onto the yard from a guard corridor beyond. Immediately, Callum and Fillmore saw the same faces they had known would become enemies as soon as Russell arrived, bitter men who had been waiting for this precise moment to turn on their fellow prisoners.
“Well, well, well…” the largest and most menacing of them sai
d, a tall, powerful oaf with a Coalition-issue shotgun in his grip, “If it isn’t the alien lovers…”
Callum turned to face the five men, and immediately knew he and Fillmore were badly outnumbered and outgunned. Their enemies were no fools, and already one of them was jumping up onto the halted elevator closest to him to keep the entire yard covered.
“We’re keeping the place clear for Russell,” Fillmore barked, gesturing with his rifle at the dead guards. “Already bashed some Coalition skulls to welcome him back.”
“Lies,” the large man spat. “He told us about you; don’t you worry. You were going to be the first ones he dealt with when he took the prison. I think we should soften you up a bit first, yeah?” He looked around at his men and chuckled.
That was his mistake.
“Fuck this,” Callum said, lifting his rifle before anyone else could move.
The burst of fire from his gun tore the man’s unguarded chest apart and clipped another. Fillmore fired haphazardly and threw himself into the doorway that led into the next section while Callum rolled behind a collapsed metal gate.
“Kill the fuckers!” the wounded oaf said, and Callum couldn’t believe giant wasn’t dead. He peeked out long enough to see the man bleeding out on the floor, but firing his rifle in short bursts at Fillmore’s position.
“Die,” Callum said softly, shooting him in the head and getting back into cover as bullets churned into the metal gate. The sound of conflict continued outside, and he was reminded of the urgency of their situation. I need to get to Reiner fast, he knew. The bullets continued to pound into the gate he was using as cover, and only then did he realize the one in the elevator was firing a machine gun. Not good. They’re going to have me here for a while, unless—
A strong hand wrapped around the gate and grabbed his rifle before he realized it, and Callum was torn out of his hiding place and thrown several feet away, his rifle slipping out of his grip as he tumbled to the ground. One of the enemies had approached under the covering fire, a crude, machete-like weapon in his grip. Callum had only an instant to duck and drag himself out of the way as the blade came crashing down beside his head and cutting into the corpse he had landed beside.
“No forgiveness for you, cunt, you killed McKenny!” The prisoner stabbed with his blade this time, and Callum gasped slightly as it cut into the flesh of his shoulder. Fillmore was exchanging fire with the other men, but they, too, had sent one of their own to ambush him.
“Fillmore, one of them is approach—”
“Concentrate on me,” the prisoner said with a growl as he kicked Callum in the knee and brought the machete down with both hands.
The soldier caught the blade just above his head, slamming both palms on it and pushing the weapon out of the way. Callum slammed into his enemy and knocked the man off his feet, smashing a fist into the prisoner’s wrist and disarming him.
“Ok,” Callum spat, “I will.” He pressed his hand down onto the man’s throat and pulled his own blade from his boot, only now getting the chance to use it. The man tried to wriggle out of its way, but it was useless. Callum punched the blade through the man’s forehead and into his skull, causing the victim’s body to spasm hard before going limp. The soldier let out a long breath and rolled aside before grabbing his rifle.
“The bastard’s killed Serj!” he heard the machine-gunner cry, and soon the gunfire turned to focus on him.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Callum shouted, running and sliding behind a mound of corpses.
A furious scream suddenly erupted from where Fillmore had been hiding, and he heard a rifle fire at full auto. Fillmore emerged from his hiding place covered in blood and continued to fire up at the elevator, forcing the man into cover. Callum lifted himself to his feet and took advantage of his companion’s sudden berserk mode, firing killing shots at the other survivors and watching Fillmore fire at the elevator cabin until his gun ran dry. The machine-gunner never emerged from his hiding place, but copious amounts of blood began to drip from the bottom of the cabin.
“Boy was that good,” the captain said with a grin, throwing away his empty weapon and grabbing another. Callum did the same, admiration growing for the patrol officer. “Let’s move.”
The guard corridor the prisoners had come through was deserted of life, only the bullet-ridden corpses of the riot’s victims remaining in its interior. The dead bodies of guards and prisoners alike littered the expanse, and each of their poses told a story.
“The guards, for all their weapons…they had no chance at all.” Fillmore admired a particular guard’s corpse who had over fifty stab wounds. He had emptied his rifle and killed a dozen men, but it hadn’t been enough.
“Let’s keep going, Captain,” Callum said nervously, “The fighting seems to have stopped.”
Eerily, they could no longer hear the gunfire from above. Are Reiner and his men dead?
Both men emerged in another yard of the prison, where men were already ransacking a guard outpost. They turned to look at Callum and Fillmore, their rifles raised.
“Ally or enemy?” one of them asked, and Fillmore became nervous. Callum lifted a hand.
“We’re going to kill Russell; let us through.”
The man who had spoken shifted slightly and both Callum and Fillmore gripped their rifles a bit more firmly, but the prisoner nodded.
“Keep going and leave everything here alone. If that bastard comes in, we’ll be ready for him.” He shared a look with Callum before the soldier walked away and tapped Fillmore on the shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
It didn’t take them long to reach the area they’d been searching for. Only a few minutes later, the two soldiers — one retired, one current — encountered the scene of a real battle.
“We’re too late,” Callum breathed.
They found them each at different spots of the top wall, each mercenary having taken down a score of Russell’s men at least. One of them looked like he had been hit by at least a dozen bullets before succumbing to his wounds.
A fallen mercenary winced and grunted as he heard the voice, lifting his rifle exhaustedly and grimacing as he saw Callum and Fillmore. The blue eyes were framed with dust and dirt, the veteran merc coughing up blood as he shifted to his feet awkwardly.
“Had the bastard in my sights…clipped him. My aim failed me. I failed…” Reiner’s hand went to his side. He was wounded and had lost a lot of blood.
“We still have a chance,” Fillmore said.
“That we do, as long as he’s alive and we are, we can kill the bastard,” Callum added.
“We can,” Reiner said, “But we gotta move fast. He’s already reached the prison, soldier. Russell is already inside.”
He had expected to enter through the same hole in the wall the prisoners used to escape, but one of the prisoners approached to lead him elsewhere.
“We’re all ready for you at another part of the prison, sir.”
Russell smiled at the deferential behavior of the prisoners, his charms already having worked their way into their minds. Only fools rule by merit. I rule by fear and always have done. It has worked since the dawn of man and won’t be changing soon.
He had no issue with postponing his encounter with Callum and the patrol captain — they had nowhere to run anyway. If his encounter with the prisoners meant gaining more soldiers, Russell would happily spend a few minutes with his growing army before beginning the hunt for the prey. Did Reiner survive the barrage we fired at him? Russell wondered. I wouldn’t mind having the chance to kill him up close.
They led him behind the block he’d been imprisoned in and escorted him further across the prison and through the wreckage of a thick metal gate in another sector. Tall blocks rose up into the air, stacks of cells taller than the ones the Coalition guards had thrown him and the rest in on arrival.
“Ah, such sweet silence,” Russell said softly, smiling as he took in the scene. “Greetings.”
“Welcome,” they re
plied as one.
They stood all around and above him: scores of prisoners watched from the railings outside open cells and others sat on the remains of gym equipment. There were tied-up guards and restrained prisoners in the center, all watching the killer as he entered the yard with his arms spread.
“What is this?” he asked, nodding down at a wounded Coalition officer. His mouth was gagged and his eye socket bled from where his eyeball had been gouged out. The man still held his head high, but it was clear the pain was overwhelming him.
“It is a gift,” a particular prisoner said, an olive-skinned man who had been loyal to him since the day he’d arrived. My reputation precedes me wherever I go, Russell knew. “For you from all of us, Lord Russell.”
“I am flattered.” He looked around and saw their faces. There was anticipation. “Very well, bring me a bat, or whatever long, blunt object you can find.”
