Jack Cabe

by Timothy Nguyen

  Jack stood in the dust-filled bunker, and the massive tank cannon mounted above them was silent. He looked out on faces that were younger or just as old as his own and that were caked with grime and painted with oil. Many had bandanas across their faces with nothing but holes for their eyes, and most had bandanas or air filters over their mouths, a necessity in the dust of the trenches. Am I really going to send these boys to their deaths? I have to, but they won’t be alone. No, not alone at all.

  Jack spoke confidently despite his internal misgivings, “Listen up fellas, we have a mission to do. As you all know by now, General Vulkov and his men have been cooped up in some Inner City Restaurant and they are being bombarded day and night, raided at odd hours, and generally beset by trouble. We plan on changing that.”

  A few excited gasps escaped across the small room as Jack continued, “I am going to lead you into the heart of hell, we are going to rescue General Vulkov and his men, and we are going to escape with minimal casualties. They aren’t expecting a rescue for those men. Aerotec has allowed us to keep in touch with them only so we can hear their inevitable deaths. But you know what? We won’t stand for it, will we?”

  The men cheered and yelled “Never!” in response, bringing a smile to Jack’s face.

  “That’s right, we won’t! No man left behind, not now, not ever! So we are going to sneak our way into their home, and we are going to show them that we are more than simple street rats and scum! So let’s go over our plan, shall we?” Everyone gathered around, and Jack told them his plan before going to meet with Val.

  …

  Stan paced back and forth in the dusty cellar as dust from the crumbling rubble above settled, “Alright, who did we lose this time?” He came to a stop as he leaned in and planted his hands on his table, finally showing the exhaustion that everyone else had been feeling for weeks.

  Andrew spoke, his voice optimistic but his tone mournful, “Well Stan, we lost Eric, and his brother may as well be dead because there’s no way that I can stop all the bleeding even if I had a full medical suite at my command. I gave him some booze to ease the pain, 'cause I ran out of actual painkillers ages ago.”

  Stan still held onto a string of hope that, while no one else could see it, shone for him as bright as the sun. He spoke confidently, “We can survive, but we have to do something about the tank up there. For all we know, our boys on the roof are dead, and that thing could very well bring the roof down on us.”

  Locke scratched his scruffy beard for a moment, then spake, “What do you reckon we could do with a rocket from above? Or at least something similar.”

  Stan and Andrew traded a quizzical look before Stan pressed Locke further, “What do you have in mind?”

  “What if we take one of those plasma launchers, creep our way up to the upper floor, and then fire the damn thing down into the tank’s roof? It shouldn’t be too hard since I don’t see any way for that tank barrel to articulate and shoot us at a ninety-degree angle.”

  Stan smiled for the first time in weeks, “Allen, that’s probably the best idea you’ve had all day. Luckily, we have a few anti-tank rounds left, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Locke laughed, “I may be older’n you sonny, by I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  …

  Jack sat in the planning room with Val, and they discussed the main plan, as well as another plan Jack had concocted to go along with it.

  “Jack, you want us to do an offensive don’t you?” Val sighed, “I know we’re desperate, but if we attack now, Aerotec could crush us.”

  Jack just smiled, “Val, I’m not suggesting a full offensive, I’m suggesting pushing the lines forward and making use of all of that equipment just sitting there in the mine. While me and my boys go rescue Stan, it can serve as a distraction of sorts.”

  “Fine, but I’m leading it," Val ordered, and Jack wasn't in much of a position to argue with her over the point. She was a capable leader after all.

  Jack sat proudly while a grin spread across his face, “As long as we don’t get ourselves killed right? I have a plan to get into the Inner City and rescue Stan, and maybe cause some chaos along the way.”

  “And what might that be darling? Charge in with a bulldozer?” Val kidded him.

  “Not quite Val, not quite, what I’m thinking is that we sneak in and find our way up onto the rooftops, and then use some extending ladders to walk across the gaps we can’t jump across.” Jack figured it was a pretty good idea, even if it had a few small flaws.

  “Jack, you’re insane, what if one of you falls? What about the injured when you come back?” Val’s playful smile had vanished, “What’s Plan B?”

  “There uh… There is no Plan B, besides shoot our way out.”

  Val put her head in her hands, “Great, just great, a month after saving you and you’re already going back out there to face odds that are most likely going to get you killed. Just... Great.”

  Jack got up and walked over to her before putting his arms around her back and placing his chin on her shoulder, “Val, never tell me the odds. I’ll scrape my way out, I promise. I didn’t bring us all the way here just to die,” he kissed her on the cheek, “But someone has to do it Love, and we’re the only people crazy enough to do it. I’ll be fine, I promise.

  She placed a hand on his, and turned around to look him in the eye, “I don’t… I just.. I want this to be over Jack. By whatever means. Aerotec needs to get out, and we can… We can have a family, and everyone can have a future.”

  Jack smiled and gave her a full kiss this time, “That’s the plan Val, that’s the plan. Why do you think we started the war in the first place?” He gathered his stuff, and they went their ways to organize their troops. Val would be leading the charge to break the Aerotec lines, and Jack would go on to rescue Stan

  Val smiled weakly, chuckling lightly to herself as they dismissed. Since when was that the plan? Jack must've had his eyes on me longer than I thought. But if he gets himself killed, there won't be a family for him to fight for. Or for me to fight for. She frowned as she walked through the corridors of the mine, and a depressive bout came over her as she thought about Jack dying. But it soon turned to flaming passion: That's why we have to fight harder than we've ever fought before.

  …

  An hour later, everything was ready for Jack to begin his infiltration, and Val was bringing in forces for her offensive.

  Jack gathered his men -the entirety of Seamus’ Bulldog Squad, and five men from Liam’s regiment- and they stood at the edge of the battlefield behind some cover. They checked their weapons, pulled on their respirators, and they were ready to invade the Inner City once again.

  He spoke through an integrated communicator in his outfit, “Alright men, we’ve chosen this spot because it has the smallest amount of ground to cover between here and the Glittering Divide. I hope that you’ve all got your big boy pants on, because this is about to be one hell of a fight…”

  In the afternoon light of the battlefield, the resistance launched as many shells they had of smoke, giving the relief team cover to move under.

  “Run for it! Get up onto the building and get to the roof, let’s go!” Jack’s team made a mad dash through the gunfire with their shields out, hellbent on their one mission.

  Chapter 38

  As day transitioned to dusk, a rumbling thumber resounded from the Resistance trenches as hundreds of mobile drills from the mines came to life and began pushing forward through the pile of scrap and rubble behind the trenches. They had set their drill heads to one task and one task alone: breaking through the enemy line. The mobile drill machines' front ends were covered in thick shields of scrap except for their drills, and many of them were modified with holes for infantry to fire out of. They were essentially a poor man’s tank.

  The relatively small vehicles surged out of holes in the trenches and began drilling new trenches toward the Aerotec frontlines as the resistance’s homemade and manufactur
ed mortar tubes lobbed smoke grenades into the enemy trenches. These simple mortars were followed by a round of one of TC’s latest creations: an electromagnetic pulse mortar/grenade that effectively blinded the Inquisitors and men in the other trench as hundreds of people surged out of the resistance trenches and into no man’s land.

  At the head of it all was Val, urging her soldiers on as she pushed on alongside them in the space between the tanks. She moved with her own personal shield, which was painted with the flag of the Resistance and had a slot on the side for her to fire her gun from as she ran. Her cheeks were adorned with streaks of red paint and a black bandana rested across the lower half of her face. She fired as she ran, and the Aerotec forces fired their artillery at the old trenches, unaware of the massive force that was on its way to tear into them.

  …

  Jack crouched along the edge of the rooftop and looked down below. Hm, I guess we aren’t the only ones being violently suppressed nowadays… Armored personnel carriers roamed the streets, and very few people dared roam the streets themselves. Inquisitors patrolled every road and drones hovered just below the roofs of every building. He felt a twinge of sorrow for the people here, but he had a mission to do.

  Jack looked toward the center of town, where a plume of smoke rose into the dimming twilight, and he spoke in the simple quiet of the rooftop, “There she is boys, Castle Vulkov. Another kilometer and a half and we’ll be there.”

  A young officer heard the distant crackling of gunfire, “Sounds like a hell of a fight sir. We oughta raise a flag when we get there! Imagine, the Martian Cross raised high over the bloody battlefield of the castle! Hell, it might even encourage some of the miscreants to do more than spray paint the walls,” the young man gestured to a few young men in the streets below who were spray-painting symbols of the Resistance on the walls of the city.

  Jack laughed at that, “McCalister, you’ve got one hell of an imagination, I’ll give you that. I didn’t bring a flag with me though, so you’re out of luck. Let’s keep a move on fellas.” Jack extended the ladder across the gap between the two buildings and walked over it carefully while the men kept an eye out for drones, and one by one they made their way to the next roof, then the next, and the next one after that, all the way to Castle Vulkov.

  …

  “I’ll go, sir, I’m young and nimble, and I can easily outwit that tank’s gunner!” Andrew cheerfully volunteered to be the man who’d take a rocket launcher up to the top floor.

  Stan sighed with resignation, “Andrew… I.. I can’t, you’re the only medic here, and the risk of you dying far outweighs the reward of that tank being gone. We can survive with the tank, but not without first aid.”

  The young man crossed his arms for a moment but acquiesced, “Fine, I guess I’ll tend the chosen’s wounds if they make it back”

  A few minutes passed and the last man from Scottstown volunteered to go, and Stan let him take up the task. The man grabbed the rocket launcher and crept up the stairs to the first floor, and from there he crept along the walls and under the tank's cannon, barely managing to avoid getting shredded by its mounted machine gun. He made it to the top floor and moments later the tank exploded, but not before it fired a final shell.

  The shell exploded and collapsed the building in on itself, entombing Stan and his last five men in a grave of stone.

  …

  Alex was a few trenches away from Val, and he was leading much more than the same team that he had led a month ago into the Inner City. He yelled out to his soldiers, “Alright people, push forward! Aerotec has taken everything from us: our homes, our families, and our dignity! But they will have their reckoning, and it’ll be by our hand!” Alex raised a flag with one hand and his shield with the other.

  Jack had gifted him this flag a month ago in lieu of an actual medal for his role in saving the Outer City, and Alex always carried it into battle with him in one way or another, and His shield was personalized so he could carry the flag while charging. It was made of better armor that had been specially designed by TC and had a trigger in the handle that connected to two heavy shotguns that were mounted on either side. Emblazoned on the front side was the Martian Cross of the Resistance, with Alex's wife and daughter’s names in place of the motto.

  He led an army of people who had lost nearly everything to Aerotec: some were from the slum lands and had lost their homes in the offensive, others were defectors from the Inner City who had made it out before Aerotec’s offensive, and there were others who had lived in the Outer City their entire lives. The ones from the Inner City -there were more and more each day, and all were pitiful- spoke of purges carried out in the dead of night, one of the same things that the Outer City had dealt with under the Inquisition. They were all united in their suffering, and every last one of them was prepared to die if it meant the downfall of Aerotec.

  The raped, the widowed, the orphaned and the childless, they all flocked to the Resistance, and they all found their way into Alex’s forces. They were loyal to the Resistance and fearless, or at the least, they had nothing else to lose, and everything to gain. They charged ahead of the other Resistance forces and threw themselves headlong into the trenches with their shotguns and a battle cry.

  …

  Jack and his team made their way onto another roof, now only five roofs away from Castle Vulkov. They could hear sporadic gunfire, but it was all too quiet for an area that was supposedly the site of a massive battle for a single building. This can’t be good.

  They were about to move onto the next roof when a drone suddenly flew up in front of them and engaged its alarm siren and its gun. It spoke in the same monotone as all of the other drones: “Halt. You are under arrest fo-”

  The drone was shot out of the sky by one of Jack’s crew, but the alarmed clank of Inquisitors’ feet was already thundering out of the stairwells of the building and its neighbors.

  “Well shit. I guess the fight starts sooner rather than later I guess. Come on boys, let’s get that ladder down, but we go over two at a time.” Jack spoke cooly, despite what had to be a hundred Inquisitors storming up to come and kill them. His men obeyed, and half of them had made it to the next roof when the doors of the furthest building’s stairwell burst open.

  Jack’s men opened fire with their guns, and as more stairwells opened they shifted their fire until three men were firing per door. It was sustainable, for now. They leapfrogged their way to the next building. “Come on men, just four more to go!”

  They weren’t all going to return alive.

  Chapter 39

  Stan, Locke, Robertson, and the last five men were trapped under the rubble of the first floor, and their only chance for survival seemed to be an old air scrubber in the corner. Eventually, they'd run out of food though.

  “Dammit… Dammit!” Stan slammed his hand into the wall next to the stairs, which were completely blocked by rubble, “Alright, that effectively sealed us in here. But… But we can make it through. We have the resources to last longer. We just need to clear a hole so we can get out when we need to.”

  Ricky, a burly gunner from Scottstown, threw his hands up in defeat and anger, “And when’ll that be Stanislav? When Aerotec asks us nicely so they can hang us in the town square? The fucking radio’s broke thanks to that collapse; no one’s coming for us! They’ll have heard the explosion, they’ll figure out the radio’s broke, and even if they do send a team for us, what good’s it gonna do if they think we’re dead under this pile of rubble?”

  Stan straightened his back and squared his shoulders before speaking loudly and proudly: “Would you rather die cooped up in a concrete tomb? Ricky, men, our best chance is out there,” he pointed to the doorway, “Not in here. We owe it to every man who has died here to either fight our way out of this and live or die trying, we don't owe them death from starvation and madness in a concrete tomb. We owe it to the Resistance soldiers who have idolized us as heroes. I don’t care what you do Ricky,” Stan planted his
finger on the burly man’s chest, “But I’m going down fighting.”

  “You’re insane Stan, we aren’t heroes. We aren’t gods dammit!” The big man yelled in blatant insubordinance.

  Stan just stared at him and calmly spoke, though the disappointment in his eyes was enough to bring a lesser man to shame, “We aren’t cowards either.” Stan refused to say another word and walked over to the rubble pile and began pulling chunks out and putting them aside, slowly but surely clearing a way out. His men joined in after a few more moments, and within an hour even Ricky joined in, mostly out of shame.

  …

  Jack ordered his men into the final stairwell with the last 3 men from Scottstown going first while Jack and four other men covered everyone else. Before they entered, he gave them their instructions because he knew that they wouldn’t be able to hear a thing once they engaged inside.

  “Alright, we may have lost a few men, but we will not let their deaths be in vain,” internally, Jack's conscience was wailing, but he spoke coolly, “When you get in there, you move to the bottom floor. But don’t rush it, and don’t just pour fire. We can’t rush through and then get ambushed by a group of Inquisitors who're waiting in a hallway that connects to the stairs. We do this smart. Keep your shields up and keep your eyes open. Divide yourselves into groups of three, and as we pass each hall I want you to go into the hall, fight your way through it, then go to the fire escape and make your way down. You’ll be exposed, yes, but I didn’t choose you because you were cowards. Once you’re on the fire escapes, speed is key. Understood?”

  His men nodded their understanding and entered the hellish corridor. They pressed forward, and the cacophonous din of battle filled the hollow shell of concrete as the Scottstown men fired over their rudimentary shields at Inquisitors, their guns pounding away with a slow and steady thud. The first group of three dashed into an adjoining hallway with their shields topped with the barrels of their guns, and they pushed ever onward.