Wrath of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  Adrian walked over and picked up the detonator. “Too bad you won’t see the end result of your plan.” Adrian threw the detonator into the main generator’s pit, watching it as it sailed down into the abyss below.

  Shaw rolled about, his head smashed open from the hard collision with the steel railing.

  “You know what?” Adrian said, bending the protective railing, exposing an entrance into the generator’s abyss.

  “What?” Shaw spat up blood. His legs sprawled out on the floor. He was unable to counter Adrian’s next attack.

  “I think I have a ticket for you after all,” Adrian reached down and picked up Shaw by his throat. Adrian comfortably dug his nails deep into Shaw’s neck and carried him over to the center of the generator. “It’s a one-way trip of course.” Adrian dangled Shaw over the pit’s entrance. “You are a stubborn fuck. The rest of your team died without any struggle. But, you? You’ve tested my patience for too long.” Adrian withdrew his nails from Shaw’s neck. “Goodbye Mr. Shaw.”

  Shaw opened the palm of his hand, displaying another detonator.

  Adrian was slow to react to Shaw’s reflex.

  “You lose. Goodbye Adrian.” Shaw pressed the button, sending one explosion after another ripping through the generator’s room.

  Adrian released Shaw into the pit and staggered backwards. The entire room caved in all around the billionaire, preventing his desire to reach the ship and escape.

  The Carnelian’s were engulfed within the blast, instantly burning. Their screeches could be heard throughout the entire station.

  Shaw chortled through the last few lines of his battle with Adrian. “And, then I held out my hand, and there was the detonator.” Shaw bent over, inches in front of Hans. Ah, shit that’s going to be a classic.”

  “Yup,” said Gillian, “one you will definitely want to tell the grandchildren.”

  Shaw stared over at Gillian and attempted his short-term plan of action. “Classic,” Shaw again repeated, cuffing his hands tightly together and swung them upward, underneath Hans’ jaw line with a hard thrust. Shaw felt the small bones inside his hands crackle after the harsh impact that had sent Hans staggering backward, flushed against the candle’s metal grill.

  “I told you I’d get the rifle back.” Shaw gripped the weapon and snatched it away from Hans’ stymied grasp. Shaw with veteran skills, unloaded another vicious shot at Hans’ face with the butt of the rifle, snapping the soldier’s head back like a bobble head doll. A bright red splashed across the cave’s wall, and the underbelly of Shaw’s chin as Hans busted his head open on the candle’s steel cage. After a few short moments, his hair had caught ablaze, igniting Hans to screech at the top of his lungs.

  Gillian spun around and caught her captor by surprise, sending the young malformed soldier waving his arms around in a desperate attempt to regain his lost balance.

  Black prepared to unleash the Doberman’s on Shaw. “There’s no escape Shaw,” Black bitterly said.

  Shaw expertly snatched Hans away from the wall, as if he were leading a mission back during the war. Shaw was amazed that Hans was still conscious even with his head on fire. Shaw, in a deft move of brilliance, pulled Hans out in front of him and readied the rifle. “Run Gillian,” Shaw shouted, while he perfectly aimed the rifle at the approaching dog’s, while using Hans as a bodyguard.

  Survivors

  “Where could he be?” Kaspar continued his search for Sergeant Dwight “Bud” Stephens. The entire clearing was littered with the glider’s debris. The cockpit of the glider had skidded through the water and buried itself inside a collection of trees, bending them at a weird ninety degree angle. Other remains were dangling from other trees, skinning their barks and snapping the fresh branches in half. Kaspar looked up at the remaining glider atop the hill, taking stock in the minimal damage it had incurred, or so it seemed from where he was standing.

  Page limped over to the saturated jungle, peeking inside the warm foliage scouring the area for his friend. “It gets dark over on this side of the planet,” Page said, “and quickly too. We don’t enough time before those things start coming out of the woodwork.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Kaspar huffed, “I’ve dealt with them before. They had overtaken the space station back at Jupiter. If it wasn’t for Shaw, then I wouldn’t be here. Nor, Jilly.”

  “You like the redhead eh?” Page asked, brushing aside a series of broken branches. “Take a peek here,” he said, running his fingers across the red stained leaves. “Blood,” he said with a dour tone.

  “It means we’re closing the gap between us and Stephens,” Kaspar said, applying pressure on the fresh wound. “How are you doing?”

  “It hurts like a bitch,” Page growled, peeling away the burned metal encased inside his flesh. “I’m going to kill Black for this,” he said finally giving up and leaving the shard of metal resting where it was. “I’m like that frickin’ bionic man.”

  “So, Jilly’s right about the planet?” Kaspar asked.

  “Jilly?” Page said with a dubious stare painted on his face. “Oh, yeah, the redhead. She’s your main squeeze?”

  “Something like that,” Kaspar brushed back another set of broken branches. “It’s gone from complicated to being in a relationship.” He thwarted another attempt from the branches. “More blood,” Kaspar took note of the fresh liquid.

  “Yeah, the planet’s divided in half right now,” Page concurred. “Half daylight, half darkness. And once this solar eclipse arrives, we’re going to be royally fucked.”

  “How so?”

  “Once the planet’s underneath total darkness, it will be like dangling a piece of red meat in front of thousands of hungry Doberman Pincher’s. ”

  “And Kenneth Black is their fearless leader?”

  “Somewhat. He did start out as one of us, a survivor. Several of our crew members were left scattered across the landscape, and wound up on the wrong side of the war.”

  “Any sign yet?” Kaspar hinted at Bud’s whereabouts.

  “Shit, we’re still a good twenty, twenty-five feet inside the jungle, he’s gotta be–“ Page’s voice trailed off, coming to dead standstill.

  Kaspar, obsessed with pressurizing his wound, almost bowled over the captain, not knowing Page abruptly stopped. “Exactly what are we looking at?”

  “What are we looking at? Page repeated running his blood stained hands all over his dirty face. “Look down,” he instructed.

  Kaspar leaned over Page’s right shoulder and caught sight of the glider’s fractured cockpit below, perilously teetering atop a rocky ledge.

  “We’re quite a distance away from the river,” Page said, gazing down at the river. “I’m speculating that from this point, its roughly a seventy or eighty foot drop. And, once that rocky ledge decides to break, the cockpit will plummet another forty or fifty more feet.”

  “How do we know he’s in there?”

  “Call it a hunch,” Page said. “And, I can see blood smeared across the windshield.”

  “Sounds pretty damn risky,” Kaspar added, “but, I will go down and take a look.”

  “I do have a thermal scanner in my utility belt.” Page took out the damaged scanner. His fingers ran over the cracked LCD screen. His thumb pressed the red button bringing the device to life. Within a few short moments, the screen faded from black and a small red dot was blinking in the far left corner of the screen’s quadrant. “There,” Page said, “it has to be Bud, there’s no other explanation,” he paused, “our preliminary scans told us the average depth of the river’s on this planet are at least sixty to one-hundred feet.”

  “I can make that,” Kaspar replied taking a long stare at the water below

  “Are you frickin’ insane?” Page questioned the Commander’s scary tactics.

  “Jilly does say that from time to time,” Kaspar began, “she wonders what the hell’s going through my mind.”

  “How are you going to get down there and back up?” Page asked.


  “Who said anything about coming back up?” Kaspar walked over to the edge of the cliff and peered down. “Seventy feet you said?”

  “Give or take several inches.”

  “Seventy feet to the water, or the bedrock underneath the water?”

  “I don’t really know,” Page uttered. “Do I really want to know your plan?”

  “Uh, probably not,” Kaspar replied with an unsure tone.

  “You don’t even know what to do?”

  “I do, I do. It’s just I’m thinking on the fly,” Kaspar looked down at Page’s utility belt. “You have a grappling gun?” He sized up the small powerful weapon. The black weapon hung loosely by Page’s side. “What other type of goodies you have in there?”

  “Oh, besides the thermal scanner? I have this grappling gun for exploration, and food rations to last twenty-four hours, Earth time, We still haven’t adjusted to this new planet’s time differential.”

  Kaspar stroked his red beard before finalizing his radical plan of action. “The cockpit, is it equipped with a safety mechanism?” Kaspar once again had an opportunity to flex his muscles and stretch his weary legs.

  “Equipped? Like one of those freaky space parachutes?” Page asked.

  “Yeah,” Kaspar said, “I know several years ago the U.S. Military began using advanced titanium-based technology and melded it with metal making an indestructible parachute for their planes as a backup plan in case their landing gear malfunctioned. And, I know,” Kaspar continued, “that Adrian had very deep pockets, and a skin tight relationship with President Forsythe.”

  “Adrian had this new technology incorporated in his fleet of ships?” Page asked. “Hey, listen,” he detoured the conversation. “You need to turn the dial on the back of the grappling gun to generate enough punch to catapult the hook into the thick ledge. Especially from sixty feet away,” Page offered the instructions.

  “If I’m a betting man,” Kaspar said as inspected the cool weapon, “I’m taking the over on this one.”

  “Anything else you need?” Page asked.

  “Yeah, do you have an extra one of those?” Kaspar pointed at the communication device.

  “Yeah, I do.” Page handed over the extra walkie-talkie. “Nice thinking,” he said with a half-ass grin. “I’m on Frequency 115.”

  “Got it.” Kaspar adjusted the device, then unzipped his suit and slipped the walkie-talkie inside his suit.

  “So, what’s your plan?”

  “Once I hit the water, I’ll use the grappling gun to reach the ledge with.”

  “And then?”

  “Shit if I know,” Kaspar said with a dubious grin. “I’ll ask Stephen’s for assistance.”

  “And if he’s knocked out cold?”

  “Well then, as Jilly would say,” Kaspar paused and thought fondly of his girlfriend, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “Wait,” Page began to speak, but it was already too late. Thaddeus Kaspar had already initiated a running start, leaped from the edge of the cliff, spiraling downward, waiting to crash in the quiet river below. “Thank you.”

  “Now, now,” Shaw urged Black to calm down, “let’s not do anything irrational.”

  “You’ll pay for this,” Black seethed while he reached behind his back and with a seamless jerk, withdrew his famed pistol.

  “Shoot him!” Hans screamed as his head became engulfed underneath the firestorm. His lips melted before he could speak again. His face, crisped from the fire’s surge. His skin flaked, falling inside the Doberman’s snapping jaws. Black with a relentless rampage, squeezed the trigger, filling the air with a parade of bullets.

  Shaw, an experienced Lieutenant, had Hans at a safe distance in front of him, careful not to became entangled in the fire raging on top of the soldier’s head.

  Black’s irritable mood swings had cost him his prized soldier. The cavalcade of bullets penetrated Hans’ body, riddling him full of holes. Short, abrupt spats of red blood squirted in the air, and the final, fatal blow, blew apart Hans’ head, sending fiery fragments of skin and bone streaking across the cavern walls.

  Shaw cradled the rifle by his side, ready for Black’s attack.

  Snorting with anger, Black released both of the Doberman’s. “Dinner time boys,” he growled, watching as his dogs scampered towards Shaw. “Time to die Lieutenant Shaw,” Black steadied his own pistol, refilling the ammunition, eager to watch Shaw’s brutal death.

  “It’s your funeral Black.” Shaw brought the rifle to an even keel, holding it inside both of his hands. His left hand supported the butt of the gun, his left pointer resting on the silver trigger. Shaw’s scraped right hand held the other end of the rifle, cradling it with enough support to pack a powerful punch. The leader of the pack lurched through the air, attempting to thwart his prey’s attack. Shaw let off a horrific blast, splitting apart the mad dog’s head, like a melon. The stunned Doberman squealed, meekly collapsing to the ground, rolling around in its own blood and leaking brain matter. The second dog found its mark, squeezing its teeth through Shaw’s suit right in his right arm. The dog’s fierce attack plunging its sharpened teeth right down Shaw’s bone.

  Pivoting, Shaw screamed, “Get off me.” The Lieutenant’s sudden force threw the lunging Doberman against the wall, knocking the animal unconscious.

  “Did that hurt?” Black had his pistol ready for action.

  “You’ve got to do better than that,” Shaw grumbled. He continued to apply strict pressure to his wound. A steady stream of blood poured from his arm.

  “I intend to,” Black said. His eyes rolled around and stared down at the first dog. “Nice shot Shaw,” Black was briefly impressed.

  “I never miss,” Shaw retorted.

  “I never lose,” Black responded with a twisted grin. His eyes watched as the dog’s head split in half, instantly growing a new one.

  “What the fuck?” Shaw watched in horror as the Doberman grew another head, like the multi-headed hydra from the infamous Hercules lore.

  The nasty Doberman shook both of his heads and snapped the jaws madly.

  “I’d start running if I were you,” Black hinted.

  “Yeah, I’d agree with that philosophy,” Shaw added, “but, first,” he said loading two more shells in Bud’s rifle. “I’m going to set off some fireworks.” Shaw stuck his hand inside his suit and took out a handful of clay.

  “What is that for?” Black quickly recognized the clay explosives.

  Shaw molded the C-4, rolling it in a ball in one hand, while holding the rifle in the other. Shaw’s arm wound up, and fired the ball against the wall, watching it as it stuck over the candle’s steel cage.

  “You wouldn’t,” Black taunted.

  “You know.” Shaw pulled out another wad of C-4 clay from his pocket. After molding it again, Shaw used another one of his high-school pitcher stances and knuckle balled the C-4 towards its mark. The second one attached itself to another steel cage. He raised the rifle, taking aim. “C-4 is a very stable explosive and offers great flexibility in the field,” Shaw said, “with that in mind, all it needs to detonate is extreme heat and pressure, or an electrical current.”

  “You have neither here,” Black became angrier by the minute. “You are clasping at straws Shaw.”

  “Now, that’s where the beauty of faith comes in,” Shaw said, “you see, the heat from the candle will still give the C-4 some kick, and after I plug it with a pressure-packed bullet,” Shaw said with a grin, pausing before finishing his sentence. “Well, let’s just say, I’d run if I were you.” Shaw pulled back on the trigger sending one bullet twisting through the air and at the heart of the C-4. The sudden explosion had enough punch to jar loose the cave, sending rocks raining down on Black and his Doberman’s. Shaw’s vapor quick release had sent the next bullet barricading into the second explosive, spraying rocks and debris all over the cave.

  “I will get you Shaw!” Black screamed. His chilly antics were soon buried underneath the f
irestorm of rubble.

  Kaspar blitzed through the cold water head first, scattering several schools of native fish, as they scurried with a fluid escape beneath the river’s surface. Using his legs, Kaspar forcefully thrust his body, an angular ninety-degree turn underwater. With a final push, he broke through the surface expelling a fresh mist of water. . After refueling his lungs, Kaspar keenly surveyed the scene, designating the proper placement of the grappling hook. His hair matted down, his skin’s wounds washed away from the river’s cleansing, Kaspar definitely could use a vacation from this weird trip. His unique spacesuit however, repelled most of the water, just like a duck in water.

  Page tried to adhere to his pursuit of Kaspar’s heroic dive, yet the rising moon riled concern in the Captain’s bones. If they didn’t make it aback to camp, they were good as dead.

  Shifting his feet, Kaspar bobbed like a cork in the water, waiting for the shot. The glider’s damaged cockpit began its dangerous slide off the ledge, limiting Kaspar’s margin for error. His hand grabbed the gun from his utility belt, and brought through the water, splashing remnants of the river everywhere. Kaspar used his patented cock of the head and tightened squint of the left-eye, and pulled back on the trigger. The hook whistled through the humid air, and buried itself in the cliff’s dense wall, right above the cockpit.

  Kaspar’s body hurtled through the air and collided against the wall, knocking the Commander dizzy for a few seconds. Releasing his grip from the grappling gun, Kaspar turned around and stared inside the fractured cockpit’s windshield. There, lying before the Commander, Bud Stephen’s was pinned between the disjointed control board and floor.

  “Hey,” Kaspar shouted. “Stephen’s can you hear me?”

  The semi-conscious Marine stirred about, mysteriously wiping away the fresh collection of blood dripping from the corner of his right temple. “Where,” he stuttered.

  “Don’t move,” instructed Kaspar, “I’m coming for you, but we don’t have enough time.”

  “I can’t move,” Bud responded weakly.