Stream of Madness

by Jim Roberts

  Joe snorted before opening the door and stepping down from the truck. Gripping the M4 carbine tightly, he walked out in front of the semi. Behind him, Sandor eased onto the gas and proceeded to follow the Peacemaker towards the town square directly ahead.

  THE ONLY sound Joe could hear as he walked was the chugging of the semi engine. As he approached one of the homes, he signaled for a halt. He approached the domicile cautiously, the M4A1 directed at the door. He reached his hand out to test it.

  It wasn’t locked.

  Gently, Joe pushed the door open and peered inside. It was a typical low-class Arab home, with sparse furnishings. Joe noted some of the chairs had been overturned. A struggle? Finding nothing else, he closed the door and moved on.

  A crow cawed somewhere off in the town; the first natural sound Joe had heard since entering the ghost town. He spotted the dark bird perched on top of a shed.

  Joe had the uneasy feeling he was being watched, and not just by some loud bird.

  After a few minutes, Joe had led the truck to the cusp of the town square. In the center of Dummaya was a large rock obelisk. A cistern, Joe thought to himself. Many towns in Middle Eastern villages were built around a central well, just like this.

  However, unlike other towns, this obelisk held a dead body.

  Crucified. Hung high by strands of barbed wire attached to the obelisk was a dead Syrian, roasting in the mid-day sun.

  Joe raised his rifle, checking the area. He held up his arm to signal Sandor to halt the semi. Joe approached the body carefully, ready for anything. The man that hung from the crude edifice wore the remains of a combat vest. His eyes had been pecked out by crows and his bloated tongue hung from his mouth.

  Joe cringed at the sight. He heard the semi door open and Jamal run up to join him.

  “Do you know him?” Joe asked.

  “Yes.” Jamal nodded, “He was one of the rebels stationed to guard the town.”

  There was a sign attached to the man’s chest, crudely written in white paint. Joe pointed to it and asked, “What’s that say?”

  “It says ‘this man is condemned as a traitor to Allah. Long live the Islamic State.’” Jamal’s voice broke as he read the words.

  “Where is everyone else?” Joe looked around the area. Spattered here and there around the town center were pools of blood. Too much for only one body.

  Jamal shook his head, “I don’t know.”

  Sandor called from the semi, “Joe, ISIS has been here. We can’t stick around!”

  Joe let out a heavy sigh and waved to the semi. He looked again at the crucified body, “Sandor’s right. This was left as a message.”

  “We must search the town. There could still be survivors.” Jamal’s voice was shaking. Joe sympathized with the man, but knew they had to move on.

  “I’m sorry, Jamal.” Joe said, sweeping his eyes across the town, “Whatever happened here, it’s too dangerous to stay. If we can find…GET DOWN!”

  BOOM!

  A massive explosion tore through the building directly adjacent to the two men, blowing them off their feet. Joe had spotted the mortar team a fraction of a second before the explosion – perched on the ridge of the hill overlooking the town. Joe’s world turned dark in an instant as his eyes and nose were filled with dust and smoke. He managed to look up and signal to the semi. “Go! Drive!” Joe shouted as loud as he could.

  He saw Sandor hit the gas, gunning the truck forward. Joe could hear screaming inside the truck’s cargo area. Another mortar erupted directly beside the semi. Joe saw the left wheel burst and the windshield go cloudy as the vehicle spun out of control. Speeding past Joe and his Shaitat friend, the truck swerved off the road.

  In a chaotic maneuver, the semi slammed into an embankment and flipped onto its side.

  Joe’s heart stopped in his chest. Not wasting another second, Joe grasped Jamal’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet. The two men bolted after the semi. Immediately, another mortar exploded where they had been a moment before. Joe’s wrenched knee flared in pain as he ran. He saw the Shaitat refugees begin spilling out of the overturned truck, shouting and screaming in terror.

  They had walked into a trap. Whoever it was that was firing upon them had waited until they were well within the village before attacking. They were keeping out of gunfire range and could afford to hang back, pelting them with mortars until they were no more than crow food.

  If they could get out of the village there was a chance…

  But the odds hadn’t favored Joe Braddock in a long time.

  And very soon, they were going to get a whole lot worse.

  * * *

  SALADIN LOWERED his binoculars, a look of pride spreading across his face. The leader of the Riders of the Scorpion stood to the left of Rashid at the peak of the hill overlooking Dummaya. Both men had a perfect view of the action below. Around them, six Riders of the Scorpion worked in groups of two with the mortar launchers, raining explosive hell on their enemy. The remaining members of Saladin’s troop sat at the ready, AK’s prepped for action.

  “Outstanding, Rashid.” Saladin spoke, speaking while still holding the binoculars to his eyes, “The trap is set, now we close the gap.”

  Rashid lowered his own binoculars, “What of Brutus, my lord?”

  “The Griffon drone has planted him outside of the village. He now awaits on the east end. We flush our enemies towards him, and the Olympus brute does the rest.”

  “Why not concentrate the fire and kill them outright?”

  “I require proof the man is dead, Rashid. Brutus must be allowed to kill the man up close. For now, we herd them towards the beast and he shall perform his task.”

  “As you say.” Rashid turned back to the fray. Once again, his master had made an extraordinary tactical gamble and it had paid off. Saladin’s trust in the machine called Brutus had been justified after all. Rashid watched as the cargo truck weaved through the narrow streets before a mortar caused it to lose control. Rashid whistled in amazement as the vehicle flipped onto its side. He could see people streaming out of the back. Rashid magnified the image. He spotted two young children and several older Syrian tribespeople, panicking under the onslaught of fire.

  “My lord, there are civilians down there–” Rashid said, preparing to halt the fire of the mortar crews.

  “As you were!” Saladin ordered, “Continue the attack!”

  “But…my lord, we do not harm non-combatants!” Rashid was genuinely surprised with his master’s disregard for civilian lives. It had been a bedrock fact that the Riders of Scorpion acted as merchants of war, but they never harmed people neutral to a conflict.

  “There are no civilians here, only casualties of war,” Saladin said, “They have wandered into the wrong battle on the wrong day.”

  Rashid opened his mouth to object, but closed it. The sound in the Scorpion’s voice told Rashid there was no arguing.

  Wars called for difficult decisions. Saladin had made his.

  There would be no survivors.

  ****

  BRADDOCK AND Jamal reached the overturned semi just as the first Shaitat tribespeople began crawling from the back. Aziz and his brother, Husam came first, helping their wives. They appeared unharmed. The two older grandparents came next. The husband, Hussein, had what looked like a broken wrist, but was otherwise unscathed. Everyone was panicking from the explosions that were still landing around their position. Mortars pelted down around the town square, bottling the survivors into staying near the truck.

  “Come on, everyone out now!” Joe shouted, helping the others exit the overturned truck. He did a headcount as the people scattered for cover. Lastly, Joe helped Ayishah out. In her arms, she carried the little girl, Safa. The child’s face was white as a sheet. Abdul, Ayishah’s son, was holding tightly to his mama’s leg.

  Joe grabbed Ayishah by the shoulder, shouting above the din, “Get the people out of the open! Find shelter inside the buildings and stay away from the windows!”<
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  “Where are you going, Joe?”

  “I’ve got to help Sandor! Go now!”

  Ayishah’s eyes were full of terror, but she nevertheless managed to nod in affirmative. Jamal joined his wife and helped herd the Shaitat people together, scooping up his son, Abdul in his arms as he went.

  Alright, they can manage without me for now, Joe thought. He had seen no movement come from the front of the overturned semi. He had to get Sandor out before their enemies improved their aim and hit the truck. It struck Joe that the attacks had so far been clustered around them. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were being herded down the east road of the town. Why? He didn’t even know who was attacking them. Joe shoved the thoughts aside and focused on saving the Centurion.

  Joe rushed towards the front of the cab. The windshield was smashed to pieces. Inside, Joe saw the Centurion. Sandor’s body was awkwardly shoved against the driver’s door. His eyes were closed and Joe saw a stream of blood pour from a cut in his temple.

  “Sandor, get up! You need to get out!”

  Joe felt another mortar smash into the ground behind the semi. He hoped against hope Ayishah had managed to move the tribespeople to safety by now.

  “Wake up damn it!” Joe shouted. He saw the man’s eyes open. The vice around the Peacemaker’s stomach relaxed a centimeter. He’s alive.

  Joe ducked low and reached into the cab, “Come on man, give me your hand!”

  The Centurion reached forward and grasped Joe’s wrist. With his help, Sandor managed to crawl over the dash and onto the dusty road of the village.

  “Wait!” Sandor said, leaning back into the cab. Joe saw the man clutch his PSG-1 rifle and pull it along with him.

  Joe’s eye caught the canisters of napalm, “Grab those too!”

  “You sure you don’t want the steering wheel?” Sandor barked. He tossed his rifle onto the sand before going back for the two containers of napalm.

  Another mortar exploded one of the domiciles only a few dozen feet from where they sat. Joe threw an arm up to protect his face from the shower of debris.

  “Who the hell is hitting us?” Sandor shouted above the din of destruction.

  “Can’t tell, maybe ISIL,” Joe wrapped Sandor’s arm over his shoulder and pulled the man to his feet, “We need to get out of here!” Joe’s own ankle was burning with pain, but he managed to ignore it. He was about to move the Centurion towards the Shaitat people when a massive object landed down the street from them.

  Both men halted as they watched something out of their darkest nightmares rise up to a standing position. It was a man, to be sure – with arms and legs, but it was covered by an armored exterior. Toping its gigantic form was a helmet shaped like an open mouthed wolf.

  “My god…Brutus!” Sandor’s voice cracked as he laid eyes on the beast of war.

  The monstrosity reared back on its legs and let out an inhuman roar that set teeth on edge.

  Joe Braddock thought he’d seen it all, but this was something else. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s Brutus,” Sandor answered, “Olympus’s prized tracker. He’s a genetic freak, augmented with tech you can only imagine.”

  The beast was a solid fifty feet from where the two men stood. Joe understood what their attacker’s plan had been; push the tribespeople forward into the cramped street with the mortar fire and have this creature pick them off piecemeal.

  The street was narrow, with only a small alleyway leading to the north between them and the Brutus creature.

  The sound of footsteps beside the truck made Joe whirl around.

  Jamal.

  “Braddock, are you alri–” the Shaitat man stopped mid-sentence as his eyes locked on the creature ahead of them. “By the love of Allah…”

  “It’s an Olympus super-soldier,” Joe snapped eyes on Sandor, saying, “Look, you need to get out of this town. I’ll lead this thing away from you, give you time to get away!”

  Sandor shook his head, letting go of Joe’s shoulder, “The hell with that Joe, you can’t fight him!”

  “I can give it a shot. Go with Jamal, protect the people, okay?”

  Before Sandor could argue, Brutus made up their mind for them. The creature had apparently had enough with waiting and began to charge.

  He would be on them in a matter of seconds.

  Act now, Braddock!

  Joe did the one thing every part of his body told him not to do: he ran directly towards the creature. Lifting the M4 with one hand, Joe sprayed Brutus with a hail of gunfire. He saw the bullets ricochet off the helmet, sparking against the metal armor.

  For a feverish moment, Joe thought he heard the creature speak.

  “Target in sight. Execute.”

  Joe ignored the terror he felt at being faced with a thing of nightmares and peeled towards the alley. His ankle sent blasts of pain through his body, but it was either run or die; the pain would have to wait.

  The creature was almost on him.

  Joe dived for the alley just as Brutus came leaping towards him.

  The Peacemaker’s heart skipped a beat as the beast missed him by a fraction of an inch.

  Brutus slammed into the rundown house to Joe’s immediate left. Braddock was on his feet in an instant, running full tilt down the meter wide alleyway, northbound.

  * * *

  ON THE hill overlooking the town, Rashid lowered his binoculars to speak to his master, “My lord, the man Brutus is attacking–do you recognize him?”

  Saladin squinted through the binoculars. A look of amazement spread across the Sand Scorpion’s face.

  “Joseph Braddock. The Peacemaker’s first among men. Good eyes, Rashid.”

  Rashid nodded, “I thought he looked familiar.” He had seen pictures of the man during their last Olympus brief. He’d never thought he’d see the man who’d caused the PMC so much grief alive in person.

  It made sense now. Braddock had been the survivor taken from the Raqqad valley two nights ago. The man was hard to kill, Rashid had to give him that.

  Saladin frowned as he watched the scene play out, “Wait…what the hell? Brutus is attacking Braddock, not the Centurion!”

  Rashid surveyed the street. Indeed, the Olympus tracker was following Braddock into the narrow alleys. Rashid abruptly lost sight of the Peacemaker. He could only track his position by the destruction Brutus caused as he destroyed the mud walls while running after the man.

  Saladin was livid, “Why is he tracking Braddock and not the Centurion?”

  “I don’t know, my lord.”

  Rashid heard Saladin curse under his breath. From what Rashid could tell, the other members of the Centurion’s convoy had begun bunkering down in the mud and cement houses just off the town square.

  Rashid looked to his master, “What should we do, my lord?”

  Saladin’s eyes reflected the anger he must be feeling at seeing a well laid plan go wrong, “They are ragged and shell-shocked by now. Prepare the men to enter the town. Send ten men around the south and flank their positions. If we cannot rely on our beast of war, than we shall take care of matters personally.”

  * * *

  THE BEAST was as fast as a rhino; its powerful body smashing through the alleyway as it chased after Joe. Any time the Peacemaker turned around to fire at the charging hybrid super-soldier with his M4, he only saw the bullets zing harmlessly off the powerful obsidian armor. He saw the massive metallic gauntlets rip into the sides of the buildings as Brutus chased him; the metal claws slicing into the mud walls like paper.

  The creature wanted blood and Joe was first on the menu.

  Joe wondered why the super-soldier had targeted him so readily. It stood to reason that the creature had been sent by Olympus to track down the AWOL Centurion and it must have seen the man back at the truck crash site.

  Why is it following me?

  He would need to figure something out before his size advantage in the narrow alleyway was played out. Joe had no idea what sort of weapons the
man/machine was armed with, other than the razor sharp claws. Going hand-to-hand with it would be tantamount to suicide.

  The heat of the late afternoon sun was becoming intense, even in the relative shade of the alley. Joe was sweating hard and his heart jackhammered in his chest. His ankle was killing him; the pain in the ligament becoming almost unbearable.

  Still, he pushed himself forward at double time.

  Joe saw the end of the alleyway open up to what was probably a backyard gathering area of some sort. He dared a glance behind him and saw the man/machine was trailing at a mere twenty feet. Brutus let out a bellow of rage as it fought against the narrow alley, desperate to catch up with its prey.

  As soon as Joe cleared the alley, he ducked to the side, out of the view of his pursuer. He quickly took in the details of his surroundings. Perpendicular to the alleyway was another backstreet where just beyond Joe could see the town center. The obelisk with the dead rebel was within sight.

  Braddock clasped the handmade napalm bomb in one hand, slinging his rifle with the other. That done, he popped the fuse of the flare and readied the volatile cocktail to throw.

  Please let this work!

  The second he heard the beast’s snorting breath, Joe lobbed the bomb.

  He watched in fascination as the incendiary device slammed full bore into the stampeding monster and burst into a shower of molten flame. The napalm drenched the entire left side of Brutus, igniting the armor and clinging to the beast as it burned. The creature tripped and toppled headlong into the dirt, screeching in pain.

  Joe didn’t waste a second. He brought the M4 up and aimed at the exposed midsection of the Olympus tracker.

  But the beast of war wasn’t out of the game.

  Brutus twisted his limbs into a full standing position just as Joe opened fire. The brute flung an arm towards the Peacemaker and swatted the rifle away. The weapon sailed through the air to land on the cement ground.

  The beast pushed forward and dashed headlong at Joe, his body still on fire. Braddock could barely manage a reaction as Brutus slammed full bore into him, lifting his body off the ground. Joe was propelled by the beast along the adjacent alleyway towards the town square. All the air was expelled from his body as the creature pushed him along in a madcap rush towards the other end of the passage. Gobs of napalm splattered against Joe’s right arm, scalding him.