Another Force

by D. J. Rockland

  He had not seen Emily in over a week. He knew if their situation did not improve in the next few minutes, he would never see her again.

  Don’t paralyze yourself with fear, Joniver told himself.

  Think of solutions to the problem. Don’t focus on the problem itself, he thought. He recited the phrase from the training manual he studied in preparation for this mission.

  The Guardsmen moved to positions that would prevent any escape attempt by the brothers. Jacob and Joniver were cut off from the possible exit sites and without their communication pods, they were both blind and deaf to their unit.

  Jacob told himself there was nothing the unit could have done anyway. He resigned himself to defending their current position as best they could. He looked over to Joniver.

  “How many clips?” he mouthed to his brother pointing at his weapon.

  Joniver held up five fingers, and mouthed “You?”

  Jacob raised four fingers. Both brothers knew this to be a sticky wicket for sure, but neither displayed fear.

  I’ll not fail Emily, Joniver said to himself. He intended to prove to her he loved her more than words could express, and he would spend his life trying to make up for abandoning her to the pig, Jones.

  Jacob used his finger to draw in the dust on the floor and whispered as he did so.

  “This is your field of view,” he said, drawing a line between them and pointing to his opposite side. “Anyone who comes into your field of view, you shoot. Got it?”

  Joniver nodded.

  Jacob pulled three grenades from his belt and laid them on the floor in front of him. He mouthed to Joniver to do the same.

  They had seven grenades between them. The problem with the grenades in here however, was their use could cause the floor or structure to collapse. This would kill the enemy, but it could also kill them, so using the grenades would be tricky work.

  Jacob mouthed to Joniver, pointing at the grenades, “Only when I say."

  Joniver nodded.

  Jacob pulled his weapon up to his shoulder and gripped the handle, looking over at Joniver one more time he mouthed, “We will get her back. Don’t be afraid.”

  Joniver nodded. But now he was afraid.

  He had never killed a man, not really, and the foolishness of his sword story came once more to bear on his consciousness. The story had been a fabrication, a distortion of the facts, a lie. However he phrased it, the story and his actions were bad, but it was not simply his actions. He had trivialized death and the seriousness of taking someone’s life.

  For an instant he was not sure he could pull the trigger. He looked over at Jacob, who was staring back at him.

  “You ok?” Jacob mouthed.

  Joniver nodded.

  “Don’t think about it,” Jacob said. “Not now.”

  Jacob spoke as if he knew what was going on inside Joniver.

  “Don’t pull your trigger until I do,” Jacob said.

  Joniver nodded.

  “We will get her back,” Jacob whispered. “Think only of Emily and doing your job right now. Think of right now and what you must do to get her back.”

  Joniver nodded.

  “Do your job!” Jacob mouthed. This time it was a command.

  “I will. I got it,” Joniver whispered.

  Jacob nodded and sighted his weapon. Joniver did the same.

  Nothing moved. Jacob and Joniver were backed up against the far outside wall of the building. The building they were in had a narrow alley way behind it, and a building of similar construction just on the other side of the alley.

  As they knelt there, waiting for the attack from the Guardsmen, the air was heavy, and there was a sense that the two of them were staring down the barrel of their death. They would go out like two brothers should, fighting together for what was right. Joniver could not help but think of Emily and what she must be going through right now. He would fight and be killed if it meant she could be free, but he would not die willingly.

  What was it the Native Americans in this area had said so long ago? His mind whirled, searching for the phrase. Then, it came to him.

  “Today is a good day to die,” he mouthed the words. But today was not a good day to die, and he would not die nor would he let Jacob die. The thought reverberated in his mind, I will not fail Emily.

  Just then, Jacob held up his hand. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he pointed to the floor, indicating the area Joniver had to cover. Joniver gave a thumbs up.

  They saw movement. The Guardsmen hopped between the steel beams that formed the structural support for the building. Jacob and Joniver saw them running for cover about sixty meters away, but it was impossible to tell how many there were. Joniver felt as though there were hundreds and the makeshift cover they had constructed from oil barrels and old desks could not hold. For just an instant he panicked, but he thought of Emily and the night he had gone to the Station. He had created panic in himself that night and there was not a threat.

  Don’t fail Emily, Joniver thought. Stay focused. Do your job.

  They saw movement again, and this time it was closer. Three or four Guardsmen were thirty meters away. One came from behind his steel cover, and he pulled his arm back as if to throw a grenade.

  A shot rang out. The Guardsmen screamed and fell back, the grenade rolling from his hand. He rolled and crawled after it, but even in the dim light, he was an ample target. Jacob fired.

  The man stopped moving.

  Another Guardsmen raised up from behind a desk, again with his arm in a throwing motion. This time Joniver fired, but not before the Guardsmen had time to throw toward Joniver and Jacob’s position. At the same time, the first grenade exploded among the Guardsmen.

  The gas grenade exploded and the room filled with the suffocating, choking smoke. Fortunately, it was primarily on the Guardsmen side. The second grenade landed just 2 meters from Joniver & Jacob’s position and bounced off an overturned desk.

  Jacob saw it and yelled at Joniver as he ducked down, “Put your fingers in your ears and close your eyes tight!”

  Joniver reacted to the warning too slowly. Before he could get his fingers positioned and his eyes all the way shut, there was a brilliant bright flash and a deafening roar.

  Joniver’s head spun. He could not open his eyes without feeling like his head would rotate and swing off his shoulders. He only saw bright pops of light and the roaring in his ears was like a water fall. He heard a high pitched ringing like a fire alarm. He felt useless and trapped in his own world. He was caged in his own body and could not escape the awful sound and suffocating flashes of light, which burst constantly despite his tight eyelids.

  After what seemed like hours, he heard weapon fire breaking through the ringing noise. He moved a limb, but it felt as though he was trying to swim for the first time. He swung in desperation for some support and orientation.

  He felt a fist grip his arm and place his hand on his weapon. He felt out of control of his senses.

  He heard Jacob’s voice, “Joniver! Joniver! That was a stun grenade! Open your eyes! Feel your weapon!"

  Then he heard the exchange of gunfire.

  Joniver felt his weapon, and he chanced opening one eye. The room stopped spinning, and the bright flashes dissipated. He rolled up to his knees, with his head still down.

  Jacob’s voice was like a call from a distant beacon, “Joniver! You hear me? I need you brother!”

  Joniver rolled his head up and gazed. He saw Jacob on one knee, firing over and over, his weapon moving left then right, then left again.

  He clutched his weapon with purpose now, but as he did so, he noted a grenade was missing. Had Jacob thrown a grenade and it exploded without his noticing? Joniver rose to one knee, and brought his weapon to his shoulder.

  Jacob said, “Cover your angle!”

  Joniver scanned. Movement - he saw movement and he fired. Smoke continued to drift across their field of view, but it scattered as a breeze blew through the building.
r />   Joniver fired again and again and again. He knew he was hitting targets.

  The weapon’s indicator sounded, and he discharged a clip and loaded another. The green indicator light and the tone said the weapon was ready.

  Jacob and Joniver did well with their targets, but Guardsmen continued to come. Strategically, Jacob knew their enemies had more fire power and that it was only a matter of time. He hoped the Guardsmen would get bored and decide the brothers were not worth it, but judging by their persistence, it was a vain hope.

  Jacob looked at his brother squeezing off shots like he had been doing this all his life. Jacob had been doing this all his life, and although he was better than Joniver, he still admired his brother’s passion and determination to succeed.

  I’ve been trained, Jacob thought, but Joniver is motivated.

  In that moment, Jacob envied Joniver. Joniver lived with purpose, and Jacob knew he had only been living. Jacob had a purpose when he was competing during training, but the actual work - the patrol and fighting - bored him; there was no purpose. He had just been another pawn in the great scheme of Hunter’s game.

  Rather than power, Jacob wanted to be free. He wanted to be free of pain, and free of the feeling of being trapped. He wanted his brother to love him, not obey him and not simply admire him.

  Joniver listened to Jacob because listening served his goal to get Olinar. Jacob wished Joniver listened because he respected him and loved him as a brother, but Jacob knew he had done little to earn such love and respect.

  I’ll use whatever time I have left to show Joniver that I love him enough to die for him, Jacob told himself. I’ll die for Emily and Olinar, if necessary, because Joniver loves them. In that instant Jacob realized Joniver had become his friend, not simply someone with whom he shared a gene pool.

  They squeezed off rounds and continued to take out Guardsmen targets. Jacob and Joniver both went through another clip. Jacob reached down for a grenade. He punched Joniver in the back, who lowered his head and saw what his brother planned. Joniver nodded and fired at the Guardsmen positions. Without raising himself higher than their cover, Jacob pulled the pin, cocked his arm and launched the projectile. He intended for the grenade to go the full thirty meters, but it fell short and exploded in front of the Guardsmen creating a small crater in the floor.

  Both Jacob and Joniver rose from their crouched positions to take advantage of the momentary shock to the Guardsmen. Three more fell, but three others replaced them. Jacob threw another grenade and this time it fell closer to its intended target, just behind the Guardsmen.

  The explosion rocked the building and they heard creaking and felt the building sway. The brothers pushed up from their crouched positions and fired.

  Joniver’s weapon locked and the red indicator popped on. He reached down for another clip.

  “How many?” Jacob asked over the sound of the fray.

  “One!” Joniver said. They both went back to firing at the Guardsmen, who now posted men at every position within the forty-five degree angle of each field of view.

  Jacob counted the rounds. Joniver had one more clip, and he was on his last. Time for another grenade. He reached down, pulled the pin and tapped his brother on the shoulder. He crouched and threw the grenade.

  Joniver crouched, waiting for the explosion.

  “Three - two - one,” Jacob counted off loud enough for Joniver to hear, and then the building rocked and swayed with the impact of the explosion.

  Bits of concrete and shrapnel flew over their heads and pinged against the drums and table they were using as protective covering. Some concrete and flooring material from above fell on the Guardsmen, and the brothers heard screams and shouts, as the wounded tried to retreat and fresh troops took up their vacated positions.

  Jacob and Joniver rose to their knees and once again fired into the Guardsmen positions. As he moved, Joniver felt a strong hand wrap around his neck and cover his mouth. There was a foul smell in the air.

  He was pulled backward and down.

  Joniver felt a pinch in his neck and everything went black.

  ***

  Running, I’m running but I can’t go fast enough.

  Stumbling.

  Falling.

  Is this mud? Am I sinking? I’ve got to keep running.

  There she is!

  No, wait!

  Stop!

  Don’t go!

  He yelled, “EMILY! EMILY!”

  Joniver jumped up from the table, but a hand pulled him back down with the force of an explosion. A bright light shone in his eyes, but he was unable to raise his hand over his eyes to protect them from the glare. He felt the tingle of pain from the intensity of the light.

  A pinch in the neck and all went black.

  ***

  Dunston raised his hand and the unit stopped without a sound. Staying quiet was imperative. The search bots were out, and although they heard all sound to some degree, as long as the unit stayed below the general clutter of the background noise they would be ok. But Dunston did not feel ok. He was missing two of his best and the best second-in-command he’d ever had. Jones had been excellent, but now Dunston knew why. Jacob was just as good and better and there was no denying it.

  Dunston motioned for the unit to move into an alleyway for cover. He pointed at Beetle and Peters to move across the street and check out an abandoned building. They needed a place to hole up for the night, and it looked as good a place as any. The two moved out and room by room, cleared the abandoned building. There were no threats.

  Dunston pointed at Morgan and told him he’d have first watch, followed by Munster, and then Roberts. He pointed to each in turn and they all nodded. Dunston would not let a lack of preparation ruin their night.

  He had fifteen men, sixteen counting himself, and two missing.

  Where would they be? He asked himself the same question over and over again. We tracked them to this area, but which one of these buildings did they enter? He looked up at the tall buildings around them. There is no way we can clear each one of these. We need some indication or a clue or something, he thought.

  His communication pod sounded with three long clicks. He looked up and saw Beetle and Peters at the door of the building. They motioned for him to come over to the entrance, and Dunston motioned to the Angriff. He heard a long click and looked again. Both Peters and Beetle shook their heads and pointed at Dunston, and he understood they wanted him alone. He nodded and walked across the street, the Angriff huddled and alert behind him.

  When he arrived, both Beetle and Peters were tense but excited.

  “There’s been a gunfight in here, and it’s been recent,” Peters said.

  “Recent like today,” Beetle added.

  “Well, possibly today,” Peters corrected, eyeing his counterpart, “but if not today, no more than two days past.”

  “Ok,” Dunston said, “and?”

  “And it was them,” Beetle said. “The brothers were in the fight.”

  Peters again glared at Beetle. The conclusion was a leap in logic.

  “I got ya, Beetle,” Dunston said. “Is the building suitable for us to stay in tonight?”

  Peters tilted his head and gave a worried expression. “I don’t know, Boss. If they fought today, Guardsmen could be back at any time for an AAR verification, or to search for clues.”

  “Clues? Why clues?” Dunston asked.

  “From what we can see, they didn’t get them, Boss,” Beetle said. “There are a couple of huge craters in the floor, and it looks like they were backed into a corner.”

  “But there is no evidence they pulled them from the corner,” Peters said. “They must have fought their way out or something. I don’t think they were killed in there though."

  “OK,” said Dunston. “Let’s try and hole up here for the night. We need rest. We’ll risk them coming back, and we’ll solve the mystery of the fight later.”

  He motioned for the unit to move across the street and into
the building.

  They scurried inside and after the unit was settled, Dunston moved over to Beetle and Peters.

  “Show me,” he said.

  They walked over to the five-meter wide holes created by the grenades. Peters pointed at the building steel. “The damage is done on this side of the support structure, so the bullets were fired from over there. If we judge the angles right, weapons were fired from the corner.”

  “The craters would be right for grenades thrown from this corner,” Beetle added, pointing straight ahead. “The marks on the wall also say whoever was in the corner was taking fire. Our guys were probably in the corner because of all the fire angles on the walls.”

  “Then where are they?” Dunston asked. “What makes you think they weren’t killed?”

  “May have been,” Peters jumped in, “but they didn’t go down without a fight. What’s amazing is they hung in there as long as they did. There are a ton of bullet marks.”

  “If they had been killed, Boss,” Beetle said, “we’d see blood and lots of it, or we’d see more damage to the defensive position in the corner.”

  Dunston rubbed his jaw, “Then they fought their way out.”

  “Not likely,” Beetle said.

  “No way,” Peters said.

  “Well, it can’t be both ways!” Dunston almost yelled.

  “We didn’t say we understood it,” Peters said. “We’re just telling you what we see.”

  “Then find me some answers,” Dunston said. “If the possible can’t be the answer, it has to be the impossible. Check everything. Maybe they sprouted wings and flew out, but if so find me evidence of how and where they went.”

  “Right, Boss,” Peters said.

  “Got it,” said Beetle.

  They looked at each other and shook their heads as Dunston walked away.

  “Wings?” Beetle mouthed.