Indian Hill 4: From The Ashes

by Mark Tufo

  “You won’t finish that!” I grabbed his shoulder. I’d like to think I was so strong I pulled him up effortlessly but more likely he was already on the move. Whoever was still alive on that ridge must have gotten the same memo as we had. They were in various stages of exiting their holes with some of the luckier ones halfway down the slope already.

  Men were screaming as we ran in a full on retreat. To the left and right they were falling, burned in half by the Genos. One skidded to a death-stop not more than ten feet from me. We were three quarters down, I wasn’t holding on to much hope of survival as targets were rapidly being diminished. In all of my encounters with Death, this was the first time I felt his icy finger upon my forehead as if to say ‘Over here! This one next!’ Unlike my earlier dream/nightmare my legs were pumping faster than they had a right to as they were aided by gravity and adrenaline. I was in very real danger of falling over as I haphazardly sped down that slope. In fact I was teetering when Death reached out and snagged my shoulder, righting me.

  Okay, so it was BT, but I didn’t know that at the time. “This way!” he yelled.

  Fear had tunneled my vision, all I could see was the burned out ruins of a home that may have been done a favor when it was razed. It would afford little cover if we decided to turn and go out firing. Bolts began to fly all around us and it was only a matter of time until I smelled my own cooking flesh. Again I felt Death’s hand upon me, but it was BT. You can call it melodramatic if you want but I have never been so afraid in my entire life. It’s one thing to face your fears—that takes a depth of courage. It’s a whole other to run from them, to open yourself up to it. It becomes unbridled and will quickly gallop away from you.

  BT flung me through an opening I wasn’t sure a child could have made. I suffered a few abrasions; it would be hours before I noticed. Boards shifted as BT forced his way through.

  “Crawl, man, crawl!” BT screamed.

  I wanted to ask him where because the light was too dim for me to see much. Then I made out what was once a hallway leading down to what I guess were bedrooms. Shards of glass and splintered wood made putting my hands down a painful experience, again something I would consciously notice later, if that mythical time ever came.

  “Left! No, left!” He smacked my foot when I started to go right. For some strange reason I’d never been able to ascertain I’d always had a difficult time distinguishing my left from my right. Strange, I think part of it has to do with my ambidexterity or maybe I just fried that connection under a marijuana-induced haze.

  “Man, I don’t know about this.” I was in the opening to the room, although using the word ‘room’ seemed like a pretty big exaggeration. The hall was cramped, I was on all fours and if I raised my head up I would have hit the collapsed ceiling. Crawling into the bedroom was going to be difficult.

  “Go! In the back on the left wall next to the bed you’ll see an opening, leads to a crawl space,” BT urged.

  I wanted to tell him I was in a crawl space, although my movement in the bedroom was more of a low slithering. I clamped my mouth shut when I heard the harsh Geno-speak outside. I pushed my rifle ahead of me and did an arm over arm creep. My breath was getting short from the panic I was feeling. Had never been particularly fond of tight spaces, especially the ones in which I was most likely going to be entombed. I was focusing on the dark hole that was my target, envisioning it opening up into a grand cavern. I lost hold of my rifle and it clattered to the ground inside the cavity. I didn’t dare breathe, waiting for the Genos outside to hear it.

  After what I felt was a safe amount of time, I began to move again, pulling myself into the hole. It wasn’t quite the cavern I’d been hoping for, although I could almost stand and right now that was like Grand Central Station. BT handed me his weapon and was through a few seconds later. I was going to say something until he pointed over into the corners where there were air vents that led directly out. We could see shadow play as Genos ran past.

  I sat down heavily on the dirt floor. I didn’t realize just how much adrenaline or fear I’d had coursing through my body. That became abundantly evident as I looked at my shaking hands. On reflection the hole couldn’t have been too small because the behemoth BT had made it. Claustrophobia is a bitch.

  “You alright?” BT whispered.

  “Never better. How’d you know about this place?”

  “Friend owned it, he grew weed down here.”

  “Any left?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I can think of no better time that one might wish to escape their present reality.”

  “You’ve got a point, but no.”

  “What now?”

  “We take a break, wait for them to pass by I guess. Then we go to our secondary rally point and see who survived.”

  The house rumbled, dust falling in copious amounts on our heads as Genos thundered by. We heard sporadic fighting from time to time. But this hill had fallen. There was nothing between the fighter facility and the Genogerians now. Whoever had spun them up and set them loose had done it masterfully. It was a half hour or so later, BT and I hadn’t said much more than a handful of words. I’m sure he’d lost a fair amount of friends today and he would have to get used to bearing the weight of that. They say time makes it easier, I’m not so sure about that. Maybe you just get used to the pain of loss, but I can’t say it ever diminishes. It’s cumulative so that every additional loss just gets added to the pile until finally one day you can’t prop it up anymore. Not sure what happens at that point…rubber room and crayons would be my guess. I hear the purple ones taste pretty good.

  “You ready to get out of here?” he finally asked.

  “Never really wanted in, but yes.”

  “Follow me.” BT had to crawl, I was able to hunch over. We went to a small bulkhead. BT turned to look at me. I checked the safety of my rifle and put it on “fire”. Light flooded into our small haven and I squinted, trying to hold on to some semblance of sight. BT opened the door completely as I thrust the barrel of my weapon out and swung it from side to side looking for a target. Then I cautiously went all the way through. Nothing. The Genos had swept past like an ill wind, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The smell of burning everything was in the air. I reached a hand down and helped BT up.

  “Didn’t even leave with so much as a kiss goodbye,” I said.

  “Your wife must be a saint. Let’s go back up the hill and see if anything from the rail guns is salvageable.”

  The hill looked like a volcano getting ready to erupt, as smoke and fire poured from the top of it. It seemed highly unlikely anything of value was still there. Bodies littered the ridge and slope like discarded trash. BT stoically avoided looking at any of them, I would imagine because he didn’t want to see anyone he knew and cared for. As we crested the hill the sight on the other side was breath taking, but not in a scenic awe-inspiring way. Thousands, no, tens of thousands of Genogerians were on the ground, large birds of prey and scavengers alike assembling to begin the process of reducing them to bones. In some places the bodies were three to four deep, stacked almost with care.

  I would have liked to have said it was victory of sorts. But we’d lost a significant part of our force. We’d been overrun and the damn Genos were still going to complete their mission. It had been a complete and utter failure. I could have stayed home and played Legos with my son for all I’d done to help turn the tide.

  “You hear that?” BT asked.

  “Tanks.” I couldn’t see them yet, the smoke rising from the battlefield making an effective screen.

  It was sickening to hear as the tanks rolled up and over the Geno bodies, the grinding of bones into dust should have held some measure of satisfaction, it didn’t. Slowly through the mist the tanks’ long barrels, turrets and bodies revealed themselves. I noticed with a small amount of trepidation that those same long barrels raised up when they saw the hill or us.

  “Wave, man,” I told BT, “before they
mistake you for a small Geno.”

  There was a chance he was going to hit me, but at least he waved without any additional prodding. “Friends of yours?”

  “Friends of both of ours right now.”

  “Do not move!” Came through a loud speaker somewhere on the first tank.

  “Doesn’t sound very friendly.”

  “On this I’d have to agree. Just remember they were involved in the same attack we were and I’m sure they’re still a little hopped up.”

  “Do I look like a fucking Allee to them? I just lost hundreds of men!” BT was working himself up into a rage.

  “Listen, man, they just want to talk.”

  His grief was close to the surface and it was manifesting as anger. It was much easier to deal with—the white-hot burn of being mad rather than the long, slow, steady smoldering of sorrow.

  “Put the weapons down!”

  “Well how in the hell are we going to do that if he told us not to move?” I queried BT.

  “Nobody’s shot you yet?”

  “Oh, I never said that.”

  We both leaned over real slow and put our respective rifles on the ground. Dodging a tank round was not on my ‘to-do’ list for the day. Trucks and then foot soldiers began to cautiously materialize through the wispy shield. Foot placement on dry ground seemed to be of more importance than actually looking for an enemy. The Genos were miles from here. The tanks stopped near the base of the hill. I’m thinking they were hesitant to scale it, not knowing if they would sink up past their treads in the material it was constructed of.

  “Identify yourself,” came another command. It was not a request.

  “I’m Ponch and this big guy here is Avilla!”

  “I don’t know him!” BT shouted, taking a step away.

  “Fine! I’m Colonel Talbot and this big brute is BT!”

  “Did you say Talbot, sir?”

  “You’re famous?” BT said.

  “Infamous is more like it.”

  BT snorted.

  “Do not move, sir. We’ve got someone who is sure going to be glad to see you.”

  I thought my knees were gonna go weak. There were only a handful of people on the planet that would be happy to see me and only one in this zip code, if those things even existed anymore.

  A troop transport truck came racing over from the left. I thought it was going to be in some serious trouble from overturning the way the driver was slamming into Geno bodies. Gristle and blood were spraying over the top of the hood. The truck had no sooner come to a stop than someone I knew and loved deeply jumped from the passenger seat. Her booted feet were already moving before they touched ground.

  “Your wife?” BT asked. I was already running down the hill.

  I had so much momentum built up by the time she was getting close that I was in real danger of passing her by or slamming her into the ground as I used her like a backstop. I don’t think it could have worked out any better as I yanked her up off the ground and spun her around. The only thing that would have made it better was if her helmet had flown off, her red hair fanning out. Yeah, that would have been a movie quality scene. I’d have to be content with her sigh and kiss. And then she seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing.

  “You should maybe put me down.”

  I kissed her again and set her down easily. She adjusted her camo blouse, trying to look like she had not just completely lost her military decorum. Her huge smile gave the ruse away though.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you,” was my response.

  “Looks a little bit like the other way around.”

  “To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

  “Travis?”

  “He’s with Dee.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

  “He’d die ten times before he’d let anything happen to our child.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that I have been seeing the Genogerians in a different light lately.”

  I nodded. The man who had been haphazardly driving my wife was running up the hill to keep an eye on his charge.

  “Colonel, this is Rut. He’s not much of a driver but he’s a hell of a bodyguard.”

  I extended my hand. “Rut? Thank you for keeping an eye on the Captain.”

  “She didn’t really need it, sir, but it was my honor.”

  BT had come down to us by this time.

  “BT, this is my wife, Captain Talbot, Tracy. And her driver/bodyguard, Corporal Rut.”

  “Captain.” He shook her hand.

  “This is my bodyguard, he’s bigger than yours,” I told Tracy.

  “It’s always about size with you, Mike,” Tracy said slyly.

  BT outright laughed. Rut looked about as embarrassed as a nineteen-year-old Corporal could.

  Tracy, myself, Rut and BT sat in the back of her truck eating a couple of MREs while we both recounted our sides of the story. I was simultaneously full of pride for what my wife had done and horror at the danger she had been in. She excused herself to get the men assembled so that I could see them.

  “How’d you manage that?” BT asked as Tracy left.

  “A lot of skill, man, and a little bit of luck.”

  BT was looking at me.

  “Fine, some skill and a decent dose of luck. Stop looking at me, man. It was all luck. She thought the world was ending.”

  “There’s the answer I knew was there.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “Beauty, brains and a killer attitude. She’s a triple threat. You up for the challenge?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Sir.” Rut came running up to the tailgate. “The Captain will have the men assembled on the hour and wants to do the transfer.”

  As the senior officer in the area the men would now fall under my command and this was just a little bit of pomp and circumstance. I’d told Tracy that she’d more than deserved the right to keep leading them and with the way they were looking at her they’d follow her just about anywhere.

  “Tell her I’ll see her then. Thank you, Corporal. What are your plans?” I asked BT when Rut bounded off.

  “Well, I’ve got to see who’s survived and then I wouldn’t mind exacting a little more revenge on the Allees.”

  “You’ve done more than should be expected.”

  “So have you, are you going to stop?”

  “I can’t, I’m still in debt for the military duds. They take so much out of my paychecks each week to pay it back.”

  “Let me go and see who wants to come along. When are you planning on pulling out?”

  “If I said ‘never’, would that make me a coward?”

  “Naw, man, it makes you a father and a husband who doesn’t want to lose what he lucked into.”

  “Hurry up or I’ll leave without you.”

  “Glad I never joined the military,” BT said as he extracted himself from the truck. “These MREs suck.”

  “You’re not supposed to eat the package.” I told his back. He flipped me the finger.

  I kept my speech short. I’d learned that one of a military man’s least favorite activities was standing in formation. I’d gleaned all the information I needed when I first walked in front of them anyway. They were battle-hardened, tired but not exhausted and they were ready for more. Paul, um, General Ginson loved the dog and pony shows; he would keep his troops out in formation for hours. I could see the constant shuffling as the men tried to get comfortable while they stood and listened to his speeches. The man liked to talk, of that there was no doubt.

  “My name is Colonel Mike Talbot.” There were a few murmurings but not much, word of my presence had probably spread before I’d even showed. It was a mystery how information could pass so quickly among the ranks. “I am now your commanding officer. This might be the only time I can call Captain Talbot my subordinate.” There were some snickers throughout the ranks. “I would like to finish what my bette
r half has started. But just know that there will be no fresh troops coming, there will be no air support coming, there will be no Calv...” Rut tapped my shoulder and pointed to the ridge. Men began showing up on the top, at first only a few handfuls, then a few dozen and finally a force that rivaled ours. BT was at the helm. “Well, okay, scratch that. There will be a cavalry.” More and more of my men were turning as they heard the clatter of moving glass. The gang members came down to join us.

  I waited until the gang got into a reasonable facsimile of an assembly. There were some uneasy glances from the two sides.

  “This is BT,” I said, introducing the big man. “He is the leader of these men here. Don’t let the colors of their clothing fool you. They, like you, are part of a battle-tested hard group of men and women. They are not apart from us. Not anymore. This isn’t about the Bloods or the Crips or the Barrio 72s or the Marines and Army. This is about humankind. Every one of us here has lost someone or something—loved ones, homes or even just a way of life. The Progerians and Genogerians took it from us. They came from some shitty little hole in the universe and just took it. Didn’t matter to them if it already had a rightful owner. However, this planet is ours! Who wants to take it back?!” There was a smattering of “Ooh rahs”. “I fucking asked, WHO WANTS TO TAKE IT BACK?!” This time I got the response from both sides that I’d been looking for—the heavy stomping of boots and the screaming reply of “We do!”

  “Mount up, then. They were wailing for their losses last night, let’s make their grandmothers light candles tomorrow!”

  “What’s that even mean?” BT asked, leaning in. The men and women were still cheering.

  “I was going with the church thing and lighting a candle for their souls. Wasn’t sure if it was going to work but it sounded good. Thank you, by the way.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “That word play? Because that’s what we’re fighting for.”

  He smiled.

  “You have rides for all of them? I could fit a decent amount in some of the trucks but not all of them.”

  “We’ve got rides.”

  “Yeah, probably not a good idea to mix them just yet. Just because they have a common goal doesn’t make them friends. That will change quickly enough once the lead starts flying.”