Travesty (SolarSide Book 1)

by Austin Aragon

  Can’t they see they are not themselves?

  I take Blake and Isaac’s hand, and get up. My stomach is about to explode as more bile rises up my throat. Alex and Tommy lower Julian onto the ground while they wait, his head slumps to the side, blood trickling out.

  He said keep her safe.

  Who will tell Julian’s family? His wife and daughter. How he really died?

  Who will tell my family when I die?

  I feel high and calm. God, I love DT.

  “Maria!” says a voice. We pause and look for the caller. A raggedy filthy local appears on the street. She runs over towards us, kneeling by the dead body of the girl. “Did she die quickly?” she says, while feeling her body about. She finds a piece of loaf bread. “Zeta! Come!” Another young kid runs out from where she came, this one looking the age of the dead girl.

  Blake walks up to the teenage woman. “I am so sorry about your loss lady, you should head our direction though, it’s not safe—”

  “Yes, she died quickly?” she says again.

  Blake looks at me, I wait for him to make a response—does it matter anymore? “Yes,” says Blake.

  The lady whispers to the young boy, “We have more food now. Here eat this.” The boy looks at the dead girl. The lady snaps his attention away. He runs off with the loaf. She turns back to us, “Have any food?”

  Blake hands her an MRE, “You boil it in water—”

  “I know. Been in this war longer than you, grabbed food off many dead soldiers.”

  She runs off after the boy

  “What about her!” says Blake.

  The lady pauses, “What about it?” They disappear into the rubble of a building.

  Blake stands for a moment, gazing at Julian and the dead girl left behind. He uses the handkerchief he gave me to wipe his face, then cusses while throwing it onto the ground—must have remembered it has all that shit on it from me still. He tries again with his sleeve, and turns to us, his nose and cheeks red. He leads us the other direction towards friendly lines. I follow Tommy before me who’s carrying Julian with Alex. Julian’s head leans to the side and bounces up and down with each step. His face drawn out into a long exaggerated expression. His mouth stretched open beyond natural limits like he is trying to say something extremely important.

  He said to keep her safe.

  War didn’t. Get used to it.

  XIII

  We reach a square after walking for a couple hours, dropping Julian off at an ambulance on our way here. Hundreds of carriers and other spacecraft descend through the atmosphere, red circles engulfing them, as they land near the liberated city. The center we enter is covered in injured Carthaginian soldiers and piles of dead. “This is where they were held their last stand,” says Blake, “Almost all of their army wiped out.”

  “Jesus,” mutters Vick.

  “Something like thirty thousand killed,” says Alex. We look back at him. “I heard officers talking about it earlier.”

  “Thirty eight to be exact,” says a man sitting against a broken marble statue in the demolished center plaza. He rests in a hunched demeanor and his clothes are ripped and soaked with dirt and blood, “all in two weeks, completely annihilated. That doesn’t even include the defense forces and militias from the city itself that stayed to help. And I would bet they were all wiped out too.”

  “Are you a Carthaginian soldier?” says Vance.

  “Of the army sent here to defend the city? I was.”

  “Was?” says Vick.

  “There’s no more army of Carthage here, Private, we just explained that it was eradicated.”

  “What are you doing here then, soldier?” says Blake irritated. The rest of us sit down against the chipped steps leading up to the ruined statue where the Carthaginian is. Elsewhere other troops from the Coalition began dropping their equipment to rest, and start mixing about with the injured Carthaginian remnants waiting to be relieved. Some civilians show themselves for the first time to view the United Nations Peace Keepers and ask for supplies.

  The Carthaginian replies, “Waiting for the last relief helicopter to pick me up, and here it is.” A chopper hovering above comes to the ground, from it exits General Jack.

  “Who sees their General twice in one day?” says Isaac.

  The Carthaginian removes himself from the statue and walks towards Jack. They instantly get onto the chopper, and it lifts off as fast as it landed.

  “I wonder who he was for the General to go get him his self,” says Vance. The others shrug in agreement too.

  “Alright men, go ahead and relax till further orders,” says Blake.

  I sit against the blood stained and chipped marble steps, putting my hands against my face.

  Isaac sits beside me lighting an ancient, “Want one?”

  “No,” I say. Just leave me alone.

  “Hey,” Isaac pats my shoulder. I brush it away. “Hey,” he continues, “I fucking miss Julian too, okay. He was a good guy,” he takes a long drag and exhales through his nose. “But everyone is going to die here, get over it.” Isaac stretches his hand towards me again, the tin box of ancients already having one slightly sticking out for me to grab.

  I take the ancient and light it, letting it dangle between my lips for a while as the smoke rises in tiny curls before me. “He had a family.”

  “We all have families, bud.”

  “But he was a father, he had a kid.” I spit the ancient out and it lands between my boots. Its red butt smoldering away as smoke exhausts from the tip. On fire like this city, with a short life, before it burns out like the rest of us.

  Isaac flicks his butt away and starts on another, he is chain smoking fast. “I know. Shit is fucking tough.” He offers me a new one. I reject it and grab the one I dropped.

  Rommel appears, covered in plaster and gore. Around his neck is a shoelace with human ears and Herculean appendages.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” says Blake.

  “I was moving around with a few other platoons till my arm pad finally picked you up and I followed the arrow,” he says.

  Blake points at his crude necklace, “And what the hell is that supposed to be?”

  “A little war trophy of mine, do you like it?”

  “No, it’s against regulations. And how the hell did you get human ears on it? Did you kill civilians!”

  “No, sir!” says Rommel now at attention. “I discovered looters raping a girl. We told them to stop and that’s when they tried killing her. So I fired. I thought I might as well add them to my collection.”

  “Jesus Christ, Private,” says Blake. Then he faces us. “Get up, we’re moving out.”

  “What for?” says Isaac.

  “We are assigned a rescue detail,” says Blake. “Now let’s move.”

  We put our sacks back on and follow behind. We are too tired and too high to complain. No one even talks about Julian or the others that died today anymore. Just doped and moving. I feel the DT high still, but it’s wearing off rather fast. When I tried talking to Isaac about Julian, he was detached from it all, like the rest of them, like me at first. There’s something wrong. Maybe my chemsack dose ratio is off. I’ll have to tell Blake later.

  “Is the girl okay?” I ask Rommel.

  “Yeah,” Rommel smiles, “I took care of her.”

  We move down an avenue away from the square deep into the city’s infrastructure. “There men,” says Blake, as we reach a group of parked Patria APC’s. “They’ll take us to the town.”

  “A town?” says Vick. “We’re leaving the city?”

  “Yeah. Going to a placed called Tionem, and guess who we are relieving,” says Blake, “Rangers.”

  We stand before the Patria’s with their sleek black coats, and camouflaged netting on the sides. Each Patria is equipped with a different gun platform on top to cover all the bases of war. “Giddy up boys!” says the lead Patria operator from his hatch, he gulps
down a water bottle with a mysterious taint to it.

  We climb onto the top of the two Patria’s instead of cramming ourselves inside, since it’s a breezy day out and were exhausted and hot. We hold the netting for support as we go, following a ravaged freeway, where a second group of carries meets us shortly after. Captain Tarnus and the remnants of Love Platoon and extras from another join our convoy. The Patria’s continue following the collapsed freeway while the destroyed city mimics it on our other side.

  We round a bend as a resonating noise reaches our ears. We come around the corner onto an avenue following the highway out of the city outskirts, and are greeted by thousands of cheering locals standing on each side of the lanes. They carry and proudly wave white and blue flags of the United Nations, and toss flowers and candies at our convoy as it turtles through the crowd.

  “I wasn’t expecting this!” says Vance. Kids run between the armored vehicles flying kites. Girls hop up onto the carries to hug and kiss the marines. I look over at Isaac as he plies one off, we make eye contact and he grins. The cheering, alongside the orbital bombardments and screaming jets, follows us as we leave the outskirts into the countryside till all become a memory. I look back at the city ruins, it wears a black top hat that stretches endlessly into the sky.

  XIV

  We are an hour into our journey when the DT wears off.

  First, your clairvoyance leaves, or more accurately the ease of mind the drugs give. As things become clearer, they get fuzzier. Because the things we are coming to understanding with are things we rather not. Then our breath leaves us—a punch right into our diaphragm—but the punch goes beyond the flesh. It strikes right into our very being that leaves not only our lunges gasping, but our spirits. Déjà vu of the siege brakes open my mind like an assaulting Goliath, and it all has to flood in: Julian and Ray, the little girl, the landing. Isaac coughs bitterly, spitting out the ancient in his mouth. Marines begin to scream and cuss at each other. Oh god…oh god, I remember now. The horror on the field—all those bodies. We look at each other, do they understand now?

  But others seem to be having different opinions about it. Rommel yells for more. Tommy pulls out part of his scarf and holds it tightly, thanking God that the drugs gave him the strength to fight.

  “What the fuck! Why would you make us do that?” says Vick. He jumps off his Patria. “I won’t do it anymore!”

  The convoy stops. Tarnus leaps off his lead vehicle. His neck lined with popping veins and knuckles white from squeezing them hard. “What the fuck do you think you are doing!”

  Vick collapses onto his knees. I see the scene of myself at Jericho on replay. I bite my tongue. There will be no mercy here.

  “I can’t do it!” says Vick. “It’s all wrong!”

  Tarnus pulls out a metal probe and whips it downwards to extend it. “You’re one lucky bitch that no Party Rep is here. He would have wasted you.” Tarnus beats Vick down. “I’ll give you something to whine about you fucking coward!” Soon Vick is flat on the ground, his hands above his head. Blubbering and begging for his mom. Begging Tarnus to stop.

  Tarnus turns around to face us. I look about. Isaac has lowered his head. In between his attempts at breathing he coughs. The operator of my Patria stares at the punishment with a fat smile, spitting into his bottle occasionally. The message is clear. Tarnus won’t have any of our emotional outcries about the drugs, about the war.

  “You are fucking marines!” he says. “Now act like it! I will not have little bitches in my platoon. If you can’t handle the expectations the military and your country places onto your shoulders,” Tarnus unclips his pistol and throws it at the nearest Patria. It smacks against Vance’s leg before dropping onto the ground, “there you fucking go. Go over by Vick and finish yourself off. You can roll around in your self-pity while you rot in hell.”

  Tommy and Rommel grab Vick and carry him back to their Patria, and the convoy is on the move again. We are all exhausted, but the military has an answer for that by giving us another drug that makes us fidget with artificial energy. I tap my hands against the armor while I listen to others whimper quietly. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve had, what, three other breakdowns today, and all of them similar to Vick. But all of them separate from the normal expiration of the doses. Why am I resistant? Am I broken? And why are we really on them?

  My neck tingles—DT? The opposite Patria becomes blurry for a moment as marines holler into the air. I look over my shoulder to see that Tionem is nearly before us, and I am ready, buzzed.

  Peter, Love, feel invincible. Pumped with energy that defies their past twenty hours of strenuous preparation for the invasion and fighting ever since then. Their past weak selves are gone, and all for the better. There is killing to do, and Love loves killing. Vick shouts out a battle cry that is echoed by the others.

  Tarnus shakes his head, chuckling.

  Blocks of destroyed suburbs greet them as they approach the town. A force of aircraft arrives over the convoy. Four little bird Kiowa’s manned by a pilot and ferrying soldiers on the side rails, and a Pave followed by a wave of A-10’s.

  The marines release a cheer as the A-10’s close in on the city. The first wave opens fire with their repeating cannons, then drops a payload of missiles on the entrance of the city, clearing away a path for the convoy. As the second couple of A-10’s fly over, long purple beams strike out from within the center of town hitting one of the aircraft. Its wing explodes as the tail catches on fire. The A-10 crashes in a fiery ball against the suburbs on the other side of town.

  “What the fuck was that!” says a marine.

  “They have AA!” says Blake.

  “Operator!” says Tarnus, “You need to tell them to get out.”

  “We are sir, but I think they figured it out themselves,” says the operator from his front hatch.

  The A-10’s make a prolonged sweep away from the town, ascending upward into the sky. At the same time another Herculean anti-air beam connects with the slower Pave attempting to disengage. The entire side engulfs in flame as it spirals sideways towards the town. The four Kiowa’s, who are smaller and nimbler aircraft, break off and hover low over the rooftops so as to not be targeted as they come back towards the convoy.

  “Fuck,” says Blake. “We’re gonna have to go in ourselves.”

  “So much for an easy grab and go,” says Isaac.

  “We’re pulling up towards the entrance,” says the forward operator. The convoy forms into a row with their turrets aiming down a center avenue that leads into downtown. The Kiowa’s land farther back and their paratroopers come forward. Love discovers they are British Airborne.

  “What now?” Tarnus says to the Airborne Leader.

  Herculean fire opens up on them as they enter downtown, halting them at an intersection. “Behind the APC’s for cover!” says the Squad Leader of Golf unit. The Patria turrets lay suppressive fire as the marines find cover. The crewmen close their hatches and Love hides behind their rears.

  “The rangers are completely silent,” says the Airborne Leader. “I think they’re being jammed.”

  “And not us?” says Tarnus.

  “Weird I know, but this is a considerably smaller Herculean force compared to everything else we fought today. Maybe that’s all their defenses are capable of doing right now.”

  The rear hatch to a carrier opens up and the operator peers out, “Captain! No air support till we take care of AA.”

  “No surprise there,” says Tarnus, he turns his attention back to the Airborne Leader. “So what should we do first?”

  “Well I bloody hell rather have your air support while we try to save our chaps than do it alone.”

  “Right, so we need to take out their AA,” says Tarnus.

  “I’ll move my men around the left,” says the Leader. “Get your men to advance down the street closer to where your rangers should be.”

  “We got a man down!” says a marine. The Squa
d Leader of Golf has been hit and he rolls away out of cover between the carriers. One marine tries to lean out and reach for him, but a plasma round hits his wrist charring it up to his elbow as he falls back.

  “Let’s get a move on Captain,” says the Leader as his paratroopers begin maneuvering left to create a flank. “Good luck with your men!”

  Tarnus turns to the convoy. “Get behind the APC’s! Leave him,” he says to another marine trying to move out for the Squad Leader. “He’s already dead!” Tarnus leans to his radio to contact the crewman about the push, “We need to advance down that street a while and clear out the Herc’s.”

  “Copy that. Stay behind the vehicles for cover,” says the operator, “and watch your three’s and nine’s for ambushes, we’ll get fucked in an open fire fight if they flank.”

  “Love!” says Tarnus. “Guard the carriers as we move up the street, watch our flanks!”

  Peter is taking cover behind a corner store on the left side of the intersection when Tarnus gives the order. He rises, readying himself to cross the gap between him and the Patria’s when he hears a peculiar uproar behind him. The paratroopers hit the wall next to Peter, and are ready to change over to next the street where he heard the noise. Peter looks down the road seeing a strangely fortified building a hundred meters down. He hurriedly grabs the Leader’s attention before he moves.

  “What is it, yank?” says the Leader, his squad waiting in cover impatiently.

  “Right down there, see that odd looking building just out in the middle of the road?” Peter points to the structure that protrudes from a storefront into the street a few meters. “I think there’s Herculeans in it,” he says with rising excitement.

  “It does look strange, but why would you think anything is in there?”

  “I think I heard them, talking.”

  The Leader turns to his men, “Alright, hold here with the yank, I’ll go check it out.” He runs down the lane quickly, and inspects the structure by peering through a broken window. Immediately he probes his rifle in and fires a burst. Strange screaming replies and different colors of Herculean fire break out form within the structure. “Fuck!” He sprints back towards them as Herculean fire shoots wildly behind him. “Mother Mary! Get the fuck down!” The Leader hits the pavement breathing hard, “Maybe ten in there.”