CHAPTER TWO
It was a long time before anyone had the capacity to move. The staggering ferocity of the impact had taken its toll on everyone and completely silenced the area. The whole location seemed like a graveyard. Charlie, of course, was the first to his feet. Shaking off the effects of the blast, he grimly assessed the devastation that laid before him. The entire battle area they had been fighting in only moments ago was now dominated by an awe-inspiring crater. Earth and rock laid out unnaturally around the crash site, the trees were floored, smoke rose from the hole, and an eerie mist reached out as far as the eye could see. Whatever the crashed object once was now spread out all over the place in every direction, pieces of its shattered metal protruding from the walls of the crater.
Charlie saw movement. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look, grateful not to be the only one left alive. But his hope was immediately dashed. Unfortunately for him, the Nazi-wolves were the next to rise, struggling to all fours and shaking themselves vigorously, like wet dogs coming in from the rain.
‘On your feet,’ ordered Charlie at the top of his voice, concerned of an imminent strike.
The soldiers began scrambling up, assisted, a little aggressively, by Charlie. Yankee and Doodle saw Specks’ legs sticking out quite awkwardly from under a mess of fallen foliage. A little heavy-handedly they heaved him out, revealing a somewhat muddy, bewildered man. They put him on his feet and brushed him down, whilst he wiped the mud from his lenses and began counting the men. They were all accounted for.
‘That seems highly improbable,’ he remarked.
‘Improbable? It’s a Goddamned miracle!’ exclaimed Yankee.
‘Damn straight,’ added Doodle, butting heads with his brother.
‘Prepare yourselves,’ came Charlie’s powerful voice.
The soldiers looked across the void of the crater and observed as the Nazi-wolves regrouped, roaring and barking at them, ready for a second clash. The men reloaded their weapons, and straightened their uniforms - if they were going down in combat, they were going to look their best! The Nazi-wolves howled in harmony, the haunting melody sending a shudder down the soldiers spines.
‘Steady,’ reassured Charlie, watching a few of his men shift uneasily.
The pack began to lurch forward, pacing around the depths of the crater, their red eyes glowering at the men, apparently not interested in the event that had moments ago transpired. But then something rather convenient happened. It was the Nazi-wolves that noticed first. They twisted their angular faces aloft and looked to the sky, watching as a massive dense cloud slowly started to cover the surface of the moon. They looked back to the soldiers, sneering, snarling, then turned on their heels and ran off into the cover of the mist and out of sight. Their time was over - for now. The tension was thick, the situation unusual, and for a while the men daren’t move. Until:
‘Phew!’ exhaled Charlie. ‘That’s a bit of luck,’ he remarked, resting himself for a minute and taking a knee. ‘Specks? What the heck just happened?’
‘Well… Erm…’ he began, routinely taking off his glasses and cleaning them more thoroughly, buying himself a little time. ‘Again… if they really are werewolves…’
‘They are,’ said the brothers, giving him a few patronising pats on the head.
‘Then they are powered by lunar activity,’ he continued, jerking his head away and throwing the brothers a dirty look.
‘Meaning?’ asked Charlie, a little sharply.
‘Meaning, in laymen’s terms… no moon, no werewolves.’
Charlie chewed over the information and began sauntering around the rim of the crater, peering in, curious.
‘And what kind of fresh madness is this?’ he asked, more to himself than his men.
‘Judging by the size of the crater…’ began Specks, himself rather fascinated by the thing, ‘coupled with the parameter of damage… and calculated by the velocity and angle of the…’ But he stopped himself, quickly becoming aware of his comrades agitated faces. ‘It can wait.’
‘You donut,’ whispered Doodle, in the geek’s ear.
Charlie cautiously made his way down into the depths of the crater, clambering through the weird and wonderful broken wreckage, wondering just what he was looking at. But then something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned quickly and looked closer. There, amongst the shards of metal, buried beneath dirt and debris, was a pale and limp left hand, poking out, barely visible.
‘Man down,’ he bellowed.
Within a few brief moments the soldiers were with Charlie at the bottom of the crater. They dug away at the dirt with their hands, threw pieces of debris to the side and heaved with all their might as they lifted the unexpectedly heavy metal out of their way. Until finally he was revealed. Everybody, including Charlie, took a roomy step back, their mouths agape. It was a strange sight to behold. On the floor, laying stretched out awkwardly, bloody and bruised amongst the wreckage, was a young man. He couldn’t have been any older than his very early twenties. He had thick black hair, pale white skin, and was dressed in boots, trousers, shirt, with a tie loosely around his neck. But what was truly, incredibly, preposterously strange was the young man’s right arm - or perhaps lack of. The shirt, cut off at the very top of the sleeve, revealed the oddity. There was no flesh, bone or skin to be seen. In its place was a slender, shimmering white metal skeletal frame. To be more accurate - there was a large ball-bearing at the shoulder joint, a rod of metal running from it, down to a smaller ball-bearing at the elbow, and finally a second rod leading down to the hand, which was covered in a tight black glove.
Charlie knelt down and put an ear to the young man’s chest. There was nothing. He looked at him inquisitively, unsure of what to do with the bizarre find. And then he caught sight of a chain around his neck. It was a dog tag. Without any thought he tugged it off. The thing was filthy and looked decades old. He spat on it, cleaning it off as best he could, revealing lettering, most of which was scratched off. But one thing was clear enough:
‘Billy Random,’ he read aloud.
All of a sudden the peculiar young man named Billy Random woke up.
Everything happened so fast. His eyes burst open - he sat bolt upright - and quick as a flash he was on his feet. He took one look at Charlie holding his dog tags and without pause attacked, swinging his metal arm at him, and sending him soaring backwards through the air, colliding into a few of his men. The soldiers instantly charged, but Billy took each and every one out with an array of tactical moves that none of them could have expected. He screamed as he did so, manic, crazed, yelling out in rage like a wild man. He punched, kicked and twisted himself around the soldiers with elegance and skill, rapidly flooring the entire squad. He looked around at his surroundings, clearly confused, and desperately gasping for air like he hadn’t breathed in a very long time. He began to cry out, tears rolling down his face, calling into the air hysterically. Yankee and Doodle took the opportunity and charged again, but Billy fought them back with the utmost of ease, barely paying them the attention they were worthy of. They didn’t like that. Beaten back, and fed up with it, the brothers pulled their guns and aimed.
‘Stand down,’ came Charlie’s commanding voice.
Yankee and Doodle stared at their Captain, perplexed, as he picked himself up from the floor and brushed himself clean.
‘Sir?’ they asked in unison.
‘I said stand down,’ he repeated. ‘Now back away. All of you.’
The soldiers knew their Captain well, so did as ordered, leaving Charlie and Billy alone in the crater. Hushed, they watched as the young man stumbled around the wreckage. He was weeping, muttering to himself incoherent sentences and ripping his way through the rubble. Charlie watched patiently, almost pitying the poor boy.
‘Billy,’ he said softly, after a long while waiting. ‘Identify yourself.’
But Billy didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge Charlie’s order. Instead he persisted, shuffling around, r
ipping up fragments of the remains. It was as if he were searching for something, or someone. Charlie allowed him some time.
‘Boy,’ he continued, his voice much louder this time. ‘If you do not identify yourself… I am going to have to assume you are one of ‘His’ projects. And therefore you will be considered the enemy. So I ask again, Billy Random?’
Billy turned on the spot. His bottom lip was quivering, his eyes were swollen with tears, and for a moment it looked like he might be willing to talk. It began to rain, but no one noticed. All eyes were fixed firmly on Billy.
He erupted, screaming out like a madman and breaking into a sprint, heading full pelt towards Charlie, giving him no choice. Charlie pulled his pistol. But Billy was way too fast, and was already upon him. He smashed the pistol from Charlie’s hand with his metal arm, causing Charlie to yell out in pain. But there was no time for weakness. Charlie instantly retaliated, punching Billy square in the jaw, followed by a swift boot to the chest, buying himself a few yards. Charlie leapt for his pistol, rolled onto his back, instantaneously opening fire. But Billy was unbelievably skilled. He kicked a large piece of metal from the ground into the air and grabbed it, shielding himself from the bullets. The pistol was empty. Charlie scrambled to his feet, but Billy charged, crashing into him with the metal shield and sending the pair toppling through the wreckage, punching and kicking as they went. Finally they came to a stop, and Billy was up first. He lifted his metal arm high into the air - he was going to finish this. But then…
BANG. Billy and Charlie looked up. Yankee stood with a smoking gun pointed into the sky. He slowly arched his arm down and aimed at Billy, joining Doodle, Specks and the other ten soldiers, who were all standing with their weapons ready to shoot to kill. Doodle couldn’t help but notice Specks’ extremely poor aim, and lowered the geek’s arm to better target Billy.
‘Just give the word, sir,’ said Yankee, eager to fire.
Billy lowered his arm and took a few steps back from Charlie. He glared up at the men, almost growling at them. Slowly, menacingly, he paced around the pit of the crater, not taking his eyes off the soldiers for one second.
‘You want to shoot me?’ he muttered with an English accent.
‘Jeez. He’s English,’ whispered Yankee to his brother.
‘I know,’ replied Doodle from the corner of his mouth. ‘Thought they were supposed to be the good guys!’
‘You wanna shoot me?’ said Billy again, yelling this time, fuelled by an unknown fury. ‘Well then, go ahead,’ he spat. ‘I won’t stop you.’
Billy spread out his arms, closed his eyes, lifted his head up to the sky and waited. The men cocked their guns, a little confused at the offering, but willing to end this. All they needed was the order. They waited. But it didn’t come. And then…
WHACK! Charlie cracked Billy across the back of the head with a very large, very long piece of wreckage. The young man instantly crumpled to the floor, out stone-cold. Charlie stood over the boy’s body, a look of intrigue apparent on his face. Who was this stranger?
‘Billy Random,’ he said, dropping the metal to the floor. ‘I just spared your life.’
The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 1 - Monsters and Machines Page 2
