Marine Summer: Year 2041

by B. E. Wilson

  “We’re moving out, not sticking around for more reinforcements. We’ll hump back, keep air traffic out of the area. This is too close to home. Don’t want to give away our position.”

  “Oorah! You heard him, men. Let’s move it!”

  17

  “Question?” I asked Brains.

  “What’s that, my young conqueror,” he kidded.

  “It’s bothering me. What actually happened to me out there the other day?”

  Brains was fiddling with a drone in the hangar bay. My job was nothing more than to keep the overgrown child company as he played with one of his toys.

  “Well, young buck, that power source is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Not only is it a great source of power, it’s intelligent. There’s something in your DNA it communicates with; it’s organic, living, and breathing, and somehow it becomes a part of you. When you freaked out on that mountain, it woke up. It sensed your distress. It knew you needed help.”

  Jumping down off the crate I’d been lounging on, I asked, “How would it know?”

  “That, my friend, is the magic question. It’s beyond our knowledge of everything scientific.”

  “But my Suit, it was unstoppable.”

  “It wasn’t just your Suit; it was you, the Suit, and the power source. You became one. You weren’t just wearing that Suit; it became part of you.”

  None of it made sense to me. I still didn’t have the answers I wanted.

  “So what now?” I asked.

  “We wait for orders, which I’m thinking once Hunter and Motown get done with briefing the general, it won’t take long.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “Recon, battle support, search and destroy…hell, you name it...could be anything.”

  Brain’s phone lit up on the side of his hip. I waited as he answered. Nothing more than ‘uh-huh’s and a lot of ‘I understand’s. I couldn’t even piece together the slightest bit of what the call was about.

  “Ask and ye shall receive, my young friend,” he said.

  “What is it? Are we going in? Are we fighting?”

  “Calm down, calm down,” he urged. “We’re just dressing up and meeting back here in the hangar. It could be just drills for all we know.”

  We jogged toward the exit, I was thinking he knew more than he was letting on, but he casually played it off as nothing.

  As we dressed in the lab, the rest of the team also played dumb. Even Motown, who had made the call to Brains, said he had no idea. I was confused. Why aren’t they letting me in on it?

  Dressed and ready, fully loaded, we headed back to the hangar. We had only been gone a few seconds, and I was amazed to see all the suits in the hangar lined up in formation. The general stood on a podium at the end. We jumped in line in the back and waited.

  This is it, I thought. We are going to war!

  I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that nervous feeling. My stomach almost ached and yearned for it.

  “Captain Thomas Pickett and Corporal Drew Butler front and center!” called out the colonel standing next to the general.

  “Let’s go,” Motown said.

  Following his lead, we left-faced, marched to the end, right-faced, and headed to the platform in front of us, where I stood dazed and unsure of what was happening..

  The general stepped up to the microphone, “Marines! Today, it is my pleasure to honor two fine Marines. First, Captain Thomas ‘Motown’ Pickett. Captain, please come forward.”

  I felt petrified as Motown left me standing all by myself. I could feel everyone’s eyes upon me.

  “Captain, it is my honor today to promote you to the rank of major. Not only have you been an outstanding Marine, you’ve shown true mettle in being an outstanding officer.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Motown said saluting the general and then shaking his hand, which looked miniature in comparison to Motown’s suited glove.

  “Not only have you led Team Alpha into battle, you’ve set the standard for battles to come. The United States of America, our beloved Marine Corps, and I myself personally thank you.”

  “It’s my honor sir. Oorah!”

  “Oorah!” the general responded.

  Cheers of oorah rang out all around me, filling the hangar.

  “Corporal Butler, please come forward,” the general instructed.

  The butterflies in my stomach felt like they were capable of breaking out through my armor. I took my time so I didn’t trip or fall and embarrass myself.

  “Today, son. We got shit to do!” the general said.

  I could hear the laughter behind me as I stepped onto the platform to face him.

  “Corporal Drew ‘Doomsday’ Butler, it is also my honor today to not only present you with a commendation for bravery, but to stand in for the President of the United States in doing so.”

  Doomsday? What the fuck kind of name is that? I was thinking. It isn’t as cool as Motown or Hunter. Why Doomsday?

  “While engaged with the enemy, you showed great courage under fire. You successfully performed at a level…well son, a level never seen before. That ax in your hands, under your control, is nothing short of amazing. Folklore tells us that a thrown ax can ward off a hailstorm, that one placed in the crops with the cutting edge facing the skies protects us from bad weather. An upright ax buried under the sill of a house can scare away witches. Placing an ax under the bed ensured male offspring.” Chuckles from the formations rolled in. “But an ax in your hands means…DOOM! You, young man, spell certain doom for our enemies. You’ve earned your call sign, Marine!”

  I get it now, I take back what I thought. It was kind of badass.

  “It’s my pleasure to award you the Navy Cross for extraordinary heroism in combat, and to promote you to E-5. You made sergeant, son. Congratulations,” the general said, a comforting smile appearing across his face.

  Following Motown’s lead, I saluted and shook the general’s hand with my right as he handed me my medal with the left. It looked magnificent lying in its polished oak box, nuzzled into a soft pillow of cloth. It reminded me of one of those bright stars across the Dakota skies at night.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  “You’re welcome, son. You can return to your team now.”

  The playful verbal jabs were short and few upon my return to the team. We had more important business to attend too as the general carried on.

  “Marines, these are apocalyptic times. We are facing a mass extinction of our species. An enemy force has invaded our homeland, and they aim to wipe us off the face of earth. We will not let that happen!”

  “Oorah!” the teams barked.

  “Marines do not fight to live another day! Marines fight so they can fight another day! We will fight!” the general shouted, slamming his fist on the podium.

  “Oorah!”

  “Marines will stop fighting when there is true peace on earth and no more battles are left to be fought. But then! A Marine will still stand watch!”

  “Oorah!” the cheers started getting louder.

  “Our enemy wants to convert this planet into a climate that is dangerous for our species! We cannot and will not let this happen! They will not feast on our bones! They will not push us out of our home, and this blue planet is our fucking home!”

  “Oorah!”

  “It’s time for the enemy to show themselves. Summer is close approaching and no area within our reach is safe. They will be coming out in the warmer weather to harvest humans. We must hit them hard and fast, and then we—Marines—will feast on their bones! We will turn summer against them, this will be the Marine’s Summer not theirs. In this year, 2041, we the Marine Corp will own summer!”

  “Oorah!”

  The general bowed his head, his right hand rubbing his square jaw. “Marines, this is our time. This is when we hit them and take back what is ours.” He looked back up across the ranks. “It’s time. As Marines, we stand tall, we fight proud, and we wipe these motherfuckers
off our planet!”

  “Oorah!”

  “Teams Alpha, Bravo and Charlie! You leave within the hour. Southern California is back under alien control. You will take it back! The rest of you will have invitations to the dance within the week.

  “Oorah!”

  The colonel stepped up to the edge of the stage. “Companies! Atten—Hut!”

  “Godspeed, Marines!” the general said.

  “Dis—missed!” the colonel’s loud slow southern bark sounded across the ranks.

  Bob turned to me. She wrapped her arms around my Suit the best she could, attempting a hug. “Congrats, Doomsday,” she kidded. “You wanted war, you got war!”

  “Quit the love-fest, act like fucking Marines!” Hunter said. “Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick, we’re going to war and you two are grab-assing like it’s the fucking dating game or something!”

  18

  The old USMC Recruit Depot, San Diego, was our target. Brains was perched on an old cell phone tower north of Sea World. He was spotting targets and pointing out tangos as we made our way south.

  I was behind cover at what had been the Shamu Stadium. Bombed out concrete bleachers hid my position. The goal was to make it across the San Diego River, Loma Heights, and Point Loma, then attach via Liberty Station.

  “Three tangos coming north in front of you, go silent,” Brains said.

  “One good battle and the little shit gets my spot. I’m not liking this,” Hunter said.

  “Shut it, Hunter. Focus on the mission,” Motown said firmly.

  Camo hid my location, tangos unaware of my presence. I waited till Brains gave the go.

  “Wait till they stop, backs to you,” he said.

  At the first sight of one of their backs, I pounced on them, slicing them in two. Easy kills. I quickly retreated to my hiding place and hunkered down.

  “Wait till they stop. What part of that didn’t you understand?” Brains asked.

  “I got excited, sorry.”

  “Follow orders. Not following them gets people killed,” Motown said.

  “Understood, sir,” I replied.

  “Clear to advance to Doomsday’s location,” Brains instructed the team.

  Finally gathered, we headed south and met resistance in the massive parking lot of SeaWorld. Alien assault teams came over the banks of the river, hidden from Brains’ view.

  “Deploying drone!” Brains said.

  “Get me some eyes behind those vehicles! Call out their positions!” Motown said.

  Aliens hid behind burnt-out vehicles left scattered across SeaWorld Drive, and the rear of the parking lot. Once the drone started sending data back to our huds, we picked them off one by one. Staying silent was no longer an option. It was a firefight.

  “Enemy targets approaching from the east. Take evasive action,” Brains alerted us.

  “I got it, sir!” I said, sprinting to cut them off.

  “Twenty tangos, he’ll need help,” Brains said.

  “He’ll need help?” Boom asked sarcastically.

  “Yeah, forgot about that. Disregard.”

  “Boom! Light these fuckers up!” Hunter yelled.

  I heard multiple explosions behind me, concussion waves making my Suit vibrate as I ran away from them. I met six of the targets head on, their shots ricocheting off my armor as I ripped at theirs, firing rounds into their exposed chests. Rita’s voice repeating in my ear, “Targeted, take evasive action.” I was trying, but my power source was acting the same. It hadn’t activated like it did in the mountains. I wasn’t maxing out like before.

  “Guys, Doomsday is struggling over there,” Brains notified them.

  “Come on kid, get it going!” Hunter said.

  “I’m trying sir! I’m trying!”

  Six down and 14 to go. Finally my mental connection with the suit arrived freezing me in place.

  “Armor at 70%. Releasing nano-bots,” Rita said.

  “Negative!” I squealed in pain as the power started coursing through my body.

  “Ex-pe, power spi—ke, shutting down,” Rita’s garbled voice said in my ear.

  “Negative!”

  Two more direct hits and finally, I felt invincible. But I would soon find out that I wasn’t. Killing the remaining 14, I stood victorious, until the bombs started falling. Two direct hits sent me flying; the third explosion sent me crashing back to the ground.

  “Armor at 38%. Releasing nano-bots,” Rita said.

  “What the fuck was that?” I said, gasping for air.

  “What the fuck was what Drew Butler?” Rita asked.

  Although I was in severe pain, I was taken aback that my intelligent computer had the ability to curse.

  “Nothing Rita, patch me up.”

  “Vitals indicate that you are in distress, body at 75%. Notifying medic.”

  “Negative, use the nano-bots,” I instructed her.

  “Warning Drew Butler, repair time thirty minutes.”

  “Doomsday to Motown, I’m down. I need support on my location. I’m FUBAR for 30.”

  “Roger that. On our way. Hang tight, kid,” he responded.

  “Get to work Rita, I’m dying.”

  “Roger that Drew Butler. Nano-bots released. Injecting 20 milligrams of morphine.”

  “Skip the drugs, just patch me up.”

  “As you wish Drew Butler.”

  Hunter dragged me into a crater as the others took sniping positions around the edges. The amount of pain I was in caused me to turn off my mic so the others wouldn’t hear my screams. Brains arrived on site and gave eyes to Boom, who released his own little fireworks display for the attacking forces.

  At one point, my screams were even hurting my own ears inside my metal tomb. The power source seemed to no longer have communication with my nervous system. I felt no connection at all, not the way I had before. I was scared.

  “We need air support immediately!” Motown called in to command.

  “Unable to assist Alpha Squad. We’ve got six downed aircraft. The others have returned for fueling. You are on your own until I can get birds back in the air,” Command responded.

  “Son of a bitch!” Motown screamed.

  I wanted so badly to get up and help. I felt helpless.

  “Incoming!” Hunter shouted, as the bomb exploded 20 or so meters in front of our location, sending debris flying back into our location.

  “That was too fucking close,” Bob said.

  “Brains, get your drone in the air and get a location on that artillery!” Motown said. “Give Boom those coordinates. We need to take that motherfucker out before he ends us all!”

  “On it!”

  “I got two tangos southwest!” Bob said.

  “I got them! Take right and I’ll take left,” Hunter said.

  “In 3—2—1—boom! Tangos down,” Bob said.

  “Hell of a shot, sweet cheeks!”

  “I got your sweet cheeks right here Hunter!”

  “Easy, I don’t want your super boy toy to get pissed and take his aggression out on me,” Hunter kidded her.

  “Sir, two artillery banks, huge bunkers are set up on the runway, and they are out of our range. We have to have air support,” Brains said.

  “Well, we don’t. What else you got?” Motown asked.

  “We’d have to get Boom to Point Loma just to pull off the shot.”

  “I’m game,” Boom said. “I’ll just jog over there, drop the package, and be back in a flash.”

  “Bullshit, they’ll slice you down before you make it halfway. It’s a suicide mission,” Hunter chimed in.

  “I agree. Stand down,” Motown said.

  I felt the nano-bots leave my body.

  “Rita, repair status?” I asked.

  “Armor 95%, tissue 85%. Still need medical attention Drew Butler.”

  “Fuck it, keep them working till I’m fixed. I’m going back in!”

  “Roger that Drew Butler, fucking it.”

  In spite of the pain I
giggled and said to her, “Rita, we really need to work on your language skills.”

  “I do not understand Drew Butler.”

  “Disregard. Just keep the nano-bots working,” I laughed.

  Rising from the ashes of the crater, I offered my assistance. “I’ll take them out!”

  “Welcome back, sunshine. Let’s go to work!” Motown said. “Boom, give him your rocket grenade launcher. He’ll need some boom power if he makes it across.”

  Boom slid the weapon onto my arm, strapping the holster in place around my forearm and wrist.

  “With your thumb, pull down the trigger and fire it like any other weapon, kid.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “We’ll be close behind. Don’t fall,” Hunter said.

  “Yes, sir. Need to get motivated though. Would a couple of you shoot me?”

  “Shoot what? You?” Bob asked. “Hell no!”

  “I got it,” Hunter said, raising his pistol and firing two shots into my chest plate.

  Like a light switch had just been flipped, the power source activated. A little motivation was all it needed.

  “See, it worked the first time, and it worked again. I’m out!” I said, leaping from the crater and heading toward the river.

  “Feed him data from the drone, Brains. The rest of us, let’s chase him!” Motown said.

  Ten aliens blocked my path to the river, I stampeded them into the pavement, with the team picking up the kills behind me. At the river, I released my ax, turning and swinging it at the same time that I threw it across the river. Hanging onto the handle, I let its momentum carry me until I crashed on the other side, creating a trench two feet deep and 15 feet long. Through remnants of war, burned down houses, and bombed buildings, I blazed a trail to the edge of the San Diego International Airport, killing anything that dared to get in my way.

  The runway was not inviting. At least a thousand alien troops awaited my arrival. I took refuge behind a concrete barrier to wait for backup.

  “Doomsday to Motown, it’s hot down here! It’s a freaking army!” I shouted as shots whizzed by overtop.

  “Hold your position, kid, the cavalry is on the way!” he responded.

  “We’ve got air support in three minutes,” Brains said.