by Davis, John
“You can count on that.”
-
“What?” Bronson asked with anger. “I just dried off!”
“Suck it up,” Jack replied. “It's your fault the ship is loaded down with vodka to begin with!”
“Either way, I think the hard part will be getting back to the chopper. You have no idea what we're dealing with LT.” Twiggy commented.
“Whatever is on the outside of this door has no idea who it's fucking with,” Jack said, hoisting a battle rifle onto his right shoulder. “I'm looking at a bunch of starving kids, and I'm a might-bit pissed off about it.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Bronson asked with a bit of sarcasm.
“Our jobs,” Jack replied sharply. “Renaldo and Wesley stay here with the survivors while we carry our asses to the ship. We get there and back it up to the door. It'll give us a chance to try and make contact with the others and provide whatever comfort we can to these survivors.”
“Jack, you don't understand. These fucking things outside...they're like nothing we've seen before. That short trip to the chopper isn't gonna seem so short if these bastards are still outside.”
“Then run fast,” Jack replied. “And if all else fails, shoot the bastards.”
“Yea.” Bronson said with disgust.
-
“Getting something.” Sayers said, the chopper doing a low pass over the colony, though they could see nothing but rain.
“What is it?” Lincoln asked.
“It's a com from ground team. Sounds like a looped message, but they're alright. The rain is just knocking out their communications to the ship, which is understandable.” Sayers replied.
“I hear that,” Lincoln said with a nod. “This shit is thick as thieves.”
Sayers agreed with a chuckle, continuing to monitor everything he could through the com system.
“I'll turn and do another pass, then we'll report back to the XO. Let him know all is well.” Lincoln said with confidence.
-
“Fuck!” Bronson yelled, turning to fire several shots into the blanket of rain behind him.
The man was strong, but greatly hindered, as he dragged a seriously wounded Twiggy with his left arm.
“Just get him to the chopper, it's up ahead. I'll do what I can to hold them back!” Jack yelled, his voice nearly overpowered by the sound of falling rain.
The men still had not seen what was stalking them, exactly, but knew Twiggy's injuries were severe. He had been severed through the chest, though none of the men had even seen the enemy. They were literally blinded by the rain, with only the faint outline of the chopper visible.
As a leader, Lieutenant Jack Strong felt horrible, having made it to the chopper with both of his men trailing behind. The soldier in him screamed for immediate return to help Bronson drag their wounded friend with haste. But the human being inside of him knew the children inside of the fallout shelter depended on at least one of them to make it back with the chopper. It was their only hope.
And so, after a moment of personal struggle, Jack decided to go back; help the men under his command. But only a couple of steps into the decision, he saw Bronson fall to his death, dropping a wounded Twiggy in the process.
It was a moment that would forever cement into his mind, Twiggy, the group's explosives expert, reaching out for Jack with desperation, only to be quickly dragged out of sight and into the thick of rain. Screams of soul-damning following very closely behind.
The soldier inside of Jack finally agreed with the human being in him.
Get inside the chopper.
Quickly pressing a sequence of buttons, the chopper's door opened, quickened by the pushing grasp of Jack's arms, which seemed to pop with such harsh use.
“Read you loud and clear ground team.” the voice of Sayers said, broadcasting throughout the chopper.
“Wait!” Jack yelled, quickly closing the rear door of the chopper. “Wait, wait!” he cried, grabbing the com in his hand.
“Just in the nick of time LT, we were just about to hit atmosphere, go ahead with your traffic.” Sayers replied.
“Oh God,” Jack said, thankful that he had reached them in time. “I need you to get a message to Bailey.”
“Alright sir, go ahead.” Sayers replied, his voice sounding calm even through the digital front of the com system.
“Tell him Bronson, Twiggy and Avery are all dead. So are most of the colonists.”
“I'm sorry sir, dead? Say again?” Sayers replied with a serious lack of belief, as though the com had become malfunctioned.
“Dead!” Jack confirmed loudly. “I need him to contact Earth Defense Command and get some damn help in here. I also need him to assemble a second ground team. Bring plenty of weapons and ration packs. The survivors are mostly children and haven't eaten.”
“Uh,” Sayers replied, taking a moment to relay the news to Lincoln. “Will do sir. What should I tell Bailey when he asks how the men died?”
“There is something here.” Jack replied.
“Something, as in what? Contamination? Animals?” Sayers asked probingly.
Up until that very moment, Lieutenant Jack Strong had been unsure himself. But, glancing to the shatterproof windshield of the chopper, he saw it. Several of them. Just as the surviving general had described them. Demons.
Very tall, each of them had a startling paleness about them, their faces seeming to mesh together a bit with pieces of flesh. It resembled a very serious skin-graft, with eyes of solid black. And though he had thought the general to be either mad, or a victim of prolonged stress, his description had been accurate. Tall wings made of a steel-type material, their edges appearing to be razor sharp, as did the massive claws poking from their fingers.
Worse, dozens of them seemed to appear behind the one closest to the chopper, leading Jack to wonder how many there actually were.
“Sir?” Sayers asked.
“Just check your video feed.” Jack replied, having the heads-up enough to lean forward and press a record button on the control panel.
A single pane of shatterproof glass separated the leader of a small Earth Defense Marine group from what appeared to be the devil himself, though it wasn't possible. Still, the monster began to drag his claws across the glass tauntingly, grinning a bit while staring at Jack with the pitch-dark of its eyes.
Firing up the thrusters of the chopper, Jack leaned close to the glass, placing their faces less than a foot apart. Offering it the universal sign of fuck-off as he raised his middle finger, slowly drifting the chopper in reverse toward the fallout shelter.
“That's the signal,” Renaldo said of the thrusters. “Open the door!” he added, prompting Wesley and the general to begin helping him open their slab of steel safety as the chopper swiftly approached. Eventually bumping up against the front of the shelter.
With a sequenced press of keys, the chopper door opened once more, this time exposing the interior of the fallout shelter, while providing a needed barricade from those who would see them dead.
“Hang tight sir, we'll get help to your position soon enough.” Sayers replied.
With that, the chopper passed overhead one last time, bursting back into the upper-atmosphere on its way to report the findings to Bailey, and ultimately, Earth Defense Command.
“Jesus man, what in the hell was that?” Lincoln asked.
“I'm,” Sayers replied, pausing to regain his wits. “I'm not sure. But we have to get this video back to Bailey quick.”
Acknowledging the truth of his statement, Lincoln began to force the chopper into a full-burn, which turned it into a machine capable of hauling ass while drinking fuel as if it were going out of style.
-
Lieutenant Jack Strong sat in the pilot's seat for several harsh moments, continuing his stare out into a pit of fog which partially hid those who lusted of murder.
He had never seen their race before.
All of the training, the wars, the grit of battlefiel
d death; it had all primed him into becoming the soldier that he was. Solid, strong and without fear.
But as he glanced out to those who appeared demon-like, their eyes gleaming of the madness of slaughter, Jack felt himself shiver just a bit.
“Sir.”
Spinning back with haste, Jack immediately held Renaldo at gunpoint, his pistol dedicated to the draw.
“Whoa sir, it's me.” the sniper said easily, slowly lifting his hands a bit.
“Sorry about that,” Jack replied, lowering his piece. “Fuck!”
“I take it whatever is out there is as advertised?” the sniper asked.
“I don't know what the fuck it is...what they are...but the old man was right. Looked like textbook demons to me.” Jack replied.
“Were you able to get a message out to Bailey? Heard a chopper flying overhead.” Renaldo asked.
“It was Sayers, and yea, sent him a video feed of the bastards. Told him to get in touch with command and get us some damn help out here.” Jack replied.
“How long before they get here?”
“We need to get everyone together about that.” Jack replied, turning to stare out into the pack of demons once more, the silhouette of their figures seemingly dissipating into the fog.
-
“The good news is I was able to alert my crew in orbit. They know we're here, stranded, and they have a video feed of whatever is outside.” Lieutenant Strong said, turning to look into the faces of each of them, including the children.
“What's the bad news?” the general asked.
“The bad news?” Jack asked with surprise. “For starters, three of my men are dead,” he said before pausing. “So are nearly all of yours.”
“How long before help arrives? Before we can these children off of this rock?” Julia asked.
A very good question in Jack's mind, further made important by her genuine concern for the young colonists.
“Good question,” he finally replied, his tone much easier with her compared to the general. “The remainder of my crew will surely be here soon enough, but beyond that, I'm not sure. It takes a lot of turning wheels to get real firepower here.”
“You're not telling me anything new.” the general commented, thinking of his years as a man of the uniform.
“There is something I wanted to lay out in front of the group,” Jack said, taking his time in sternly looking to the general. “We do have a fully-functional chopper.
“So we're saved?” Julia asked.
“Not exactly. There's a cargo limit in terms of weight, so we all won't be able to make the trip. I was thinking of packing it with a soldier who will pilot, yourself, and as many children as we can fit.” Jack replied.
“I appreciate the offer lieutenant, but I'd rather stay behind. I wouldn't feel right leaving and knowing children were still here. I couldn't live with it.” Julia replied.
“Alright,” Jack said, taking a moment to admire her bravery. “One soldier and as many children as we can possibly fit. Everyone else stays behind and digs in deep. We hold this position until help arrives.”
“We? You mean you're not going?” Wesley asked.
“Afraid not. I couldn't live with myself,” Jack replied with a grin, turning to warm the heart of Julia for a moment. “It'll be one of you two, and you'll settle it in marine fashion.”
The woman had thought of asking what marine fashion meant, but hesitated just long enough to have her question answered, both Renaldo and Wesley dropping down to the pushup position.
The two soldiers began to push themselves up and down slowly in synchronized fashion, waiting for the other to give out. And though it was an easy task at first for both, after several minutes, their faces told of a different story. One of twitching muscles cascading throughout their bodies with pain.
After nearly ten minutes of muscles lifting and lowering, Renaldo finally remained down, exhausted in defeat.
“That's what I'm talking about.” Wesley commented, exhausted himself, but finding the energy to flex a biceps muscle toward the beaten sniper.
“Just get ready to get these kids into orbit,” Jack replied, reminding them all of the seriousness of their situation. “You get up there and make sure Bailey is bringing us what we need, and you make sure they've alerted the core.”
“You got it.” Wesley said, nodding before turning to walk toward the chopper.
“Get in and sit tight. We'll pack it out slowly, then wait a spell. We'll have to be quick about launching it,” Jack said, turning to the others. “And those of us staying behind will have to be fast about sealing the door back.”
“Lucky bastard.” Renaldo said with envy.
“Not luck son,” Wesley replied, turning to face the stringy smuggler. “Skill. Pure unadulterated, meat-eating, country-strong skill.”
“I hear you,” Renaldo commented, a bit under his breath. “I hope you choke on your first hot meal, you arrogant fuck.”
-
It was the first crisis that Bailey had ever been tasked with, though he seemed to handle it well. Each move he made was done so in a rushed fashion, though very strategic.
“Pull both mechs and put them online. Have them handle the basic ship maintenance.” Bailey said.
“Yes sir.” Chandra replied as the remaining soldiers scurried throughout the ship collecting their weaponry.
“You're to remain here. You make damn sure the core sends real firepower. Keep the distress message looping, and keep this baby in orbit.” he added.
“You got it.” she replied with a smile.
“Alright everybody, get your asses together and meet me in the launch bay in five.” he ordered, pressing a button down on the com system.
Then, taking a moment to try and collect himself, Bailey began watching the looping video feed their ship was attempting to broadcast to the Earth Defense Marine Core.
“Never seen anything like it before. Never.” he said.
“Alright, give me a list of what we're taking along!” Bailey demanded, the last to board the small chopper as Wilson, Martin, Lincoln and Sayers waited patiently.
“Two sealed crates of chow, a pile of medical supplies and guns. Lots of fucking guns.” Lincoln replied with pride.
“Good. Let's go save some kids and skin some asses.” Bailey said, sitting and beginning to buckle in. “Let's go!”
Rather than wait for him to finish strapping in, Lincoln nodded his approval of the direct order, beginning the sequence of the hop to come.
There was something about the toxic mixture of nerves, adrenaline and the free-fall which every hop began with. It was almost an out of body experience for any soldier who had felt the combination of the three.
The force of a chopper falling hundreds of miles per second, as if a stone had been flicked from the orbiting ship above, only filled with the souls of soldiers who hungered for a fight.
Each of them thought about the video stream which had been broadcast by their commanding officer. Each soldier's mind vividly replaying the sight of demons below.
“These boys don't know who they fucked with!” Martin yelled, bringing chuckles from soldiers who otherwise remained tight-griped onto the handles attached to their seats.
Moments later, the chopper's thrusters began to fire, taking the crew from a free-fall to a full-burn within a single moment.
“Wooooo” Lincoln yelled, his hands controlling the chopper's flight stick as the entire crew was pushed back into their seats with violent turbulence.
“Check your gauges Sayers, I can hear equipment back here stalling out!” Bailey yelled.
“It's not equipment sir, it's rain.” Sayers replied, continuing his close monitoring of the shuttle's vitals.
Rain? Bailey thought, having never heard such a heavy downpour in his life.
The interior of the chopper began to echo with the roar of rainfall. Pellets of hard water slamming against the man-made steel of the chopper, as it did against the shatterproof windshield.
“How can you see in this shit?” Bailey asked, using a loud voice in an attempt to overpower the steel-echoed rain.
“I can't,” Lincoln replied. “Lieutenant Strong has their chopper beacon going, so I'm aiming for a spot near them.”
“Good idea,” Bailey replied. “Sayers, go ahead and alert our beacon in anticipation of the core sending more firepower.”
“You got it.” Sayers replied, punching in a sequence of buttons that would make their spacecraft findable to the core's equipment when the time came.
-
“LT, they're weaponized!” Renaldo yelled, spotting several of the demon-like soldiers planting a large cannon into the ground.
It was primitive in appearance, though a glowing red circuit inside of the metal cylinder gave way to the fact that it was advanced, and it was a weapon.
And though it was a single cylinder, a spear-like attachment rested on its bottom, sinking into the water-drenched ground with a thud as it began to pivot.
“Weaponized?” Lieutenant Strong asked loudly, rushing over to the open door as he joined Renaldo in watching the chopper filled with children lifting-off. “Oh God!”
It was a certainty that the children, accompanied by Wesley, were to be destroyed at the hands of this race of murderers. And though he would have given his own life in order to save those aboard the doomed chopper, even Lieutenant Strong knew there was no stopping the demons, who now began to lock their weapon onto the lifting shuttle of souls.
“Oh my God, no” Julia shouted with panic, eyes quickly turning to waterfalls as she thought of the children and their innocence. “No!” she shouted, attempting to run out to halt the demons, quickly grabbed by the grasp of Jack Strong.
“LT!” Renaldo yelled, pointing to the sky above.
Just as the sniper had spotted a second chopper, the steel-winged demons had done the same. Taking a moment before finally adjusting their targeting system.
Lieutenant Jack Strong found himself looking to the skies above, the pupils of his eyes burning a bit as they fought against the relentless fall of rain. Two objects, though sketchy at best. One of them filled with children and heading to safety, while the second was most likely packed with needed supplies and longtime friends.