by Lucas Marcum
“Bernice?” O’Malley raised an eyebrow at the private.
The young soldier smiled and patted the dash. “Yeah. All the best vehicles got names. Old Bernice got us out of the Gap and ran way harder and hotter than she was supposed to. A good, old-fashioned piece of American engineering.” He checked his watch. “I didn’t think we’d get two more hours out of her, but here we are.”
Staring at the map with a dim red flashlight, Acevedo remarked, “Well. The map shows one of those marked points ahead.” She glanced at O’Malley. “It’s in the next valley. We can probably hoof it to the next ridge. Once we’re up there, we should be able to see it from the top of the hill. If we see anything, we can signal.”
Henderson popped the driver’s side door, swung a foot out, and froze. After a moment, he said in a strained voice “Sir. You…uh…”
On O’Malley’s side of the truck he saw movement, then the door flew open, and the muzzle of a rifle appeared. A tense voice commanded, “Out.”
In the moonlight, he could see half a dozen dark shapes, their outlines obscured by foliage and ragged strips of cloth. O’Malley carefully slid out the passenger side of the truck and raised his hands slowly. Cautiously he rotated his shoulder, showing the patch. “We’re friendlies.”
The obscured shape replied, “Those fuckers have slipped a few through us using some sort of magical bullshit pretending to be friendlies. We’re going to ask you a few questions.” The figure’s eyes glinted as he asked, “What’s the US Army email system?”
Puzzled, O’Malley replied, “What? AKO? Or Enterprise, I guess.”
“Who’s Snuffy Smith?” the figure demanded.
“Wasn’t he a cartoon character? In World War Two?” O’Malley replied. “Or are you asking about generic snuffy? In that case, it’s a generic placeholder for any enlisted soldier.”
“Good,” the figure replied. “What’s the best MRE flavor?”
“The jambalaya.” O’Malley replied without hesitating. “Can I speak to your commander, please?” He lowered his hands.
“Bullshit!” The figure backed up. “There IS no jambalaya! Get your fucking hands up! Get on the fucking ground!”
A tired sounding voice broke in, “Martinez, you dipshit. The jambalaya was discontinued like five years ago.” A figure stood up from the bushes and walked over to them.
“You. Security. Now,” the figure said to Martinez. The first figure shrugged and walked away.
O’Malley could hear someone speaking to him, and the young soldier replied hotly, “How the fuck was I supposed to know there’s a jambalaya? It’s not my fault he’s old as fuck!”
The second figure sighed and took off his heavily camouflaged helmet, revealing a tight crew cut and weather-worn face. He held out a hand. “Staff Sergeant Trevor Jones, 1st of the 506th.”
“Paratroopers, huh?” O’Malley replied.
“Such as we have left.” The man reached out a hand.
With a tired grin, O’Malley shook the man’s hand. “Captain O’Malley. I was a medical logistics company commander, but we’ve been taken apart and put back together so many times, I don’t even know who we are anymore.” He turned and gestured at the truck. “I have survivors, and we need to link up with the rest of the forces. I have a general surgeon in there we brought with us out of the Gap.”
The sergeant tilted his head at that. “You made it out of the Gap, huh?” He squinted at O’Malley for a long moment. “Not many of the noncombat units did. The elves hunted them down from the air and burned them.”
“Yeah.” O’Malley unsnapped his helmet. “They did that to us outside Philly, too.” He paused and added, “And Lancaster. Pretty much the whole way, really.”
“Yeah, well, you ain’t gonna get much of a break up here. The orcs are pursuing what’s left of the 28th Infantry into the hills.” The man glanced at his watch. “In fact, you arrived at a great time. We got a surprise for one of their columns happening anytime now.” He gestured at the truck. “Unass the truck, and have your men push it off the road. You and your first sergeant, follow me.”
O’Malley turned to Acevedo, who issued the commands with a few terse words. The airborne sergeant gestured for them to follow, turned, and walked into the woods. Ten minutes later, he gestured at a crudely constructed fighting position consisting of a hole deep enough for several people to stand in, covered with fallen logs. He sat down and slid in. O’Malley and Acevedo followed. Once inside, they were in a low but sturdily constructed fighting position. A long slit was formed by two logs.
Jones gestured to the firing slit. “Grab a pair of glasses and watch that road in the valley.” He reached over and turned up the volume on a tactical radio that sat in a niche carved in the wall. O’Malley picked up a pair of battered binoculars from the earthen ledge in front of him.
The radio crackled immediately with a whispered voice. “Geronimo 6 Actual, OP Charlie. The main body is passing our position. They will be in the kill zone in 30 seconds.”
Another voice replied, “Charlie, Geronimo 6 Alpha. All teams, stand by to fire.”
Training his glasses at the valley floor below, O’Malley could see a column of dark armored figures marching down a four-lane paved road. They had several carts with them that they were pushing. The moonlight made it almost as bright as day. Suddenly, there was a series of dull red flashes from the side of the road, and a dozen of the figures dropped. Several seconds later, the sound washed over their position high on the hill—the familiar cracks of Claymores detonating.
As the echoes of explosions reverberated through the forested hills, bright sparks broke out as dozens of rifles opened up. The larger flashes of crew-served weapons swept up and down, the red tracers sweeping the column. The pop and crack of small arms fire arose from the valley below. The orcs who were still standing were thrown back by the barrage of fire sweeping out of the woods in front and to the sides of them. Within moments, there were only a few standing, desperately trying to take cover behind an overturned wagon.
There was a whistle, then an explosion in the middle of the road, and dirt and bodies flew as the mortar round impacted. More followed in short order, the explosions walking their way up and down the column. The echoes of the explosions and gunfire reverberated through the valley, making it impossible to tell where the shots were coming from, unless you were looking directly at them. O’Malley found himself grinning widely as he watched the slaughter through the binoculars.
After a few moments, the mortars stopped, and the radio crackled again. “All teams, Geronimo 6 Actual. Cease fire, cease fire, cease fire.” There was a pause, then the radio crackled and spat, “Exploitation teams, go.”
O’Malley could see dark shapes dart out of the tree line and search the fallen bodies rapidly. He watched for a moment more, then lowered the glasses.
Jones was watching the scene with a disinterested look. Seeing O’Malley looking at him, he shrugged and said, “It’s like this every time. We bloody their noses, they come back with mages and dragons, and we have to fall back.” He gestured at the log bunkers. “This seems to keep the dragons from seeing us. We think they can see heat, but who the shit knows?” He turned his attention back to the scene below.
The radio crackled again. “Geronimo 6 Actual, Exploitation Team 2. Sir, there are no elves here. It’s just orcs, and skinny ass ones at that. They also seem to have inferior armor. It’s not the regular stuff. It looks like black-painted aluminum siding.”
There was a split second of hesitation, then the radio spat “All teams, Geronimo 6 Actual. It’s a trap! Scatter and fall back to the…”
There was a bright bloom of flame in the dark valley below, and faint screams echoed through the forest. Another blossom of flame burst from the sly, sweeping down the road, and the black bulk of a dragon could be seen flapping through the moonlight sky. A figure faintly visible on its back pointed a staff, and a light blue beam reached out and touched the ground. Where it touched, a large
cloud of brilliant blue-white sparks showered the nearby trees, starting small fires. Small balls of blue fire exploded under it, marking the demise of paratroopers as the beam swept over their positions.
Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream close behind them, startling everyone in the tiny command post. A hoarse voice yelled, “CONTACT REAR!” Weapons fire erupted from the woods to their rear.
Sergeant Jones scrambled out of the improvised command position, turned, and snapped, “Hold here.” He disappeared into the darkness at a run.
“Fuck that.” Acevedo pulled and released the charging handle on her M16, and added, “We got troops out there, sir. I ain’t losing any more.”
“Agreed.” O’Malley followed the sergeant out of the bunker, chambering a round as he did. “Let’s get to the truck; they should still be there. Once we find them, we link up with the paratroopers.” He raised the rifle and headed cautiously down the hill towards where the stalled truck lay just out of sight.
A dozen feet into the trees, the moonlight was almost completely blocked out. Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. O’Malley paused, his eyes searching the darkness ahead of him, straining his ears. Hearing nothing, he cautiously advanced a dozen more feet, then froze. He heard a soft noise, like someone gasping for breath. Moving up carefully, he peered around a tree and froze.
Ahead of him in the dim light coming through a break in the trees was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She stood in profile, her platinum hair, like spun silver in the moonlight, pulled back with a silvery headband, revealing her delicately pointed ears. Her features were refined, with large eyes and slightly pouty lips. Her figure was slim, and her skin, where visible, was smooth and flawless. She was clad in plate armor that shimmered with a slight blue glow as she moved. Even clad in the armor, she moved gracefully. In her hand she held a sword. It was as thin and delicate as the wielder and glowed faintly in the dim light. The blade was dark and dripped with blood that was black in the moonlight. She tilted her head slightly and frowned, looking at the dark shape shuddering on the ground in front of her.
Entranced, O’Malley reflected that even her frown was perfect. Then she smiled, and her beauty suddenly transformed into a cruel visage. As he curled his finger to squeeze the trigger, she savagely thrust downward into the dark shape. There was a shrill scream, then O’Malley’s rifle barked.
The rounds hit the elf squarely in the side, causing her armor to flash, and a ripple of light to appear where the rounds impacted. Suddenly furious, O’Malley pulled the trigger as fast as he could, watching the rounds flash off her armor in splashes of blue light. The elf laughed and rushed at him. Backpedaling, he tripped over a root and fell, his rifle spinning off into the darkness. Desperately he reached for his pistol and froze. The glowing point of the blade hovered an inch from his throat.
The beautiful creature looked at him curiously, then spoke in a melodic, fluid tongue. O’Malley could simultaneously hear the alien language as well as understand it.
“Why do you persist, human? You are clearly outmatched.” The elf gazed at him, her beautiful eyes almost hypnotic, the sword point unwavering. “Your armies are defeated; your cities are ours. Why do you persist? Do you not recognize your betters when they are before you?”
O’Malley shook his head, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, the elf snapped her head to the left, just in time to catch the butt of Acevedo’s M16 across the bridge of her nose. There was a horrible sounding crunch, and the elf collapsed bonelessly into an undignified heap. Unsatisfied, Acevedo followed the stroke with several vicious kicks to the head. She pulled O’Malley to his feet, surprising him with the strength in her small frame.
“You ok?” she asked, pointing her rifle at the elven woman lying unconscious on the forest floor.
“Uh…yeah,” O’Malley replied. “Holy shit!”
“Holy shit is right,” Acevedo said. “We should cap this bitch.” She pushed her rifle barrel against the elf’s head.
“No!” O’Malley blurted. “We need intel!”
With a scowl, Acevedo held the rifle barrel against the elf’s head for a moment longer, then sighed and lowered the rifle. “Fine. But when the time comes, I get to shoot her. Deal?”
“Deal.” O’Malley reached into a pouch and pulled out a zip tie. “Here. Cuff her, and let’s get her out of here. She’s our top priority now.”
Clambering to his feet, O’Malley moved forward to the dark shape lying on the forest floor. Feeling in the darkness for the body, he rolled it over, revealing the pale face of Private Stennis. In his hand he still clutched his pistol, the slide locked back.
Acevedo looked over O’Malley’s shoulder. After a moment, she said in a quiet voice, “At least he went down shooting.”
“I guess.” O’Malley reached into the young man’s uniform top and retrieved his dog tag. He looked at it for a moment, then placed it into a pouch on his armor, where it clinked against the dozens of others he carried.
Acevedo turned back to the unconscious elf. “What do we do now? We need to find the rest of our guys, but we clearly can’t leave her here.”
From close by there came the heavy thump of a .50-caliber machine gun. It burped several rounds, then stopped. It fired again, another short burst, then fell silent. Suddenly it opened up, the roar of the massive rounds tearing the night apart. Through the trees, O’Malley could see the flash from the muzzle.
Acevedo raised her rifle and snapped, “Sir, watch that freak. If she opens her eyes, knock her the fuck out again. We don’t know what kind of bullshit she can do.” She headed off into the dark at a fast walk, her rifle at the ready.
O’Malley watched the tiny sergeant disappear into the dark, then looked at the elf woman and swore. “Goddammit.”
He knelt next to the beautiful elf, noting, even with the blood running down her face, how delicate her features were and how fair her skin was. He watched intently for a moment, then sighed, shrugged off his assault pack, and removed a roll of duct tape. After few moments work, he’d reinforced her hands and feet and placed a square firmly over her mouth. Pausing for a moment to make sure she was still able to breathe, he ran a red-lensed flashlight down her armored body, looking for weapons. He removed a dagger in its sheath from her waist and tossed it aside. He removed her belt, which had several pouches on it. He found a long, polished stick in a holster on her left thigh. Holding it up, he noted the glyphs on the handle glowed slightly. He removed two large rings from her fingers, one with what looked like an opal that shimmered on it, and the other of solid gold.
Satisfied that he’d taken all the obvious threats, O’Malley leaned the elf against a tree and scooped all her belongings into his assault pack, then took the elf’s sword and strapped it to the outside of the pack. He sat down with his rifle pointed at her and waited.
***
Moving carefully in the dark, Acevedo advanced towards the sound of the gunfire. As she crept forward, the deep thumps from the .50-caliber stopped. For a moment, she could hear pained moans, then a laugh, and someone called out, “How do you like that, you toothy fucks? Come get some more!”
A deep, guttural voice replied in an unknown language, a defiant yell, immediately followed by another round of gunshots, all of these from rifles.
Stepping around a tree, Acevedo froze. In front of her, the big shape of Specialist Ewart crouched. He had the .50-caliber he’d scavenged from the Humvee strapped to a spare tire from the five ton. He’d placed both on top of a large tree stump and had somehow chained the machine gun to the huge tire. He was slamming the action back and forth and swearing. There was a pile of spent .50-caliber shells next to him. Privates Williams and Henderson were kneeling behind the fallen portion of the tree, firing their M-16s at the road. Acevedo noticed a dozen stubby black crossbow bolts sticking out from the thick log they were taking cover behind.
Rushing to their position, Acevedo crashed down next to Ewart. “Tell me what you got, Specialist.”
&nbs
p; “Fuck!” he swore and slammed the action again, trying to get the weapon to work. “We got an orc patrol that came up on our asses as we were stripping the truck. Me and the guys jury-rigged this bitch and took some of them out, but there’s a couple of them back there taking cover behind the five ton.” He pointed. From where they crouched, Acevedo could see straight down the road. Next to the bullet-riddled truck, there were a half-dozen orc bodies lying still on the pavement. The massive, jagged rents in their plate armor from the .50-caliber rounds were clearly visible in the moonlight, as were the large, dark pools under their bodies.
“Where are the Airborne?” Acevedo demanded.
“They took off after an elf and about five or six of them monsters that went into the woods. They said she was a high-value target. Not sure where they are now. These fuckers showed up after they chased the other guys.”
Ewart reached over, smacked Williams’ arm, and pointed at the truck. An orc was peering out cautiously. Williams replied with a burst of fire that caused the orc to duck hastily back into cover. A split second later, an arm with a crossbow appeared. Acevedo ducked as she heard the deep twang and the immediate SMACK of the crossbow bolt hitting the log in front of them.
“Bastards are good with those,” Ewart said. Without looking at Acevedo, he added in a matter-of-fact voice, “I think they got Beck. She was unloading the truck when they showed up. I don’t know where the new guy or the doc are.” He pointed at the forest next to the truck. “If you can get around them, I think we got ‘em pinned.”
“Let me get the captain. We captured the elf. He’s guarding her.” Acevedo risked another cautious look over the fallen log, then pointed at the machine gun. “Is that thing working?”
With a shrug, the specialist replied, “Not in auto anymore. I think I might’ve fucked it up. Might be able to get semi out of it.”