by Bruno Flexer
Making the training ground a home was not a terribly bright decision on the part of nocturnal animals, Tom thought as he signaled Ramirez that he could find no trace of the enemy. He stopped scanning and brought his rifle up, hand on the trigger mechanism. He didn't like the vulnerable feeling he had when he scanned. Anything might have attacked him then.
Tom sure was glad he was inside the Serpent and his teammates couldn't see how tense he was. He had done his share of live combat exercises during boot camp and officer training, but he was not a front-line officer. Tom only hoped he wouldn't fuck up too badly. He also hoped Ramirez wouldn’t be around when he did fuck up.
"Does anybody know what we are searching for, exactly? What the enemy is?" Tom sent.
"No, Sir, they told me nothing, Sir," answered Sergeant Jebadiah immediately.
Unsurprisingly, Ramirez said nothing.
"We're too vulnerable out here in the open," Tom sent through the radio link.
He looked back at Ramirez who was crouching behind a large SUV, about forty feet behind him. The black Serpent hesitated, its viper head turning in all directions, the spike-like aerials on its head twitching.
"Start house to house search," Ramirez sent and sprinted towards one of the houses on the street, assuming position about ten yards from its entrance. Sergeant Jebadiah sprinted there next, and finally Tom sprung out, his Serpent covering the distance in five large bounds, landing and flattening itself against the wall of the house with as little noise he could manage.
"Sergeant, move inside. Riley, follow him."
They broke down the house's solid wood door and stormed inside, making sure they covered all possible angles with their heavy rifles. Tom now felt uncomfortable because they had to fold down their limbs to be able to function inside the human-sized house.
However, there was nothing here, not even on the second floor. Tom stopped and started scanning again, but found nothing. There was no sign of the enemy, nor any sign that any enemy had ever been here.
Ramirez pointed at the house adjacent to the one they now occupied. Ramirez raised three fingers, then two, then one, and then the three Serpents leaped the twenty-foot distance to the next house, landing neatly on its tiled roof, their foot claws easily supporting the three monstrous black figures who now balanced there. The Serpents' long legs easily absorbed the impact, folding down before extending again, making the black monsters' ascent eerily quiet for such large and heavy machines.
They froze, waiting and watching, their viper heads swiveling around. Tom scanned again. Nothing out of the ordinary and no sign of any enemy could be traced.
Ramirez pointed down, and the three Serpents charged into the house’s second floor, rifles ready. They moved methodically down, also checking the cellar, treating each door and alcove with the respect due to a place that could be hiding an enemy. But they found nothing.
They moved through several more houses, slowly and carefully, scanning ahead as best as they could before entering. Tom did the best he could to copy Sergeant Jebadiah's movements and actions. So far, so good.
But through Tom's fear, through his discomfort at being here, and through his feelings of inadequacy, ran elation. It was probably the first time it hit him, the size and the power of the Serpents. It was so obvious now, the Serpents were giants compared to the humans. How small were their houses, their cars and their streets. Everything here is like a toy, soft and squishy, just a plaything to be crushed and destroyed at will by the superior Serpents. Tom had never felt this way before, he had never experienced so much power.
Tom's left hand, acting with a will of its own, reached out to grab a section of a brick wall in a house they had just finished checking. The long curved fingers slowly crushed through the plaster and the bricks, and then reached for and severed a water pipe that happened to pass through that segment of wall. Without any effort, Tom had crushed a section of a wall into dust.
Tom joined his teammates, surreptitiously shaking the dust off his hand. They left the house they had just finished checking through its small garden, their claws leaving deep trenches in the soft earth and green grass, and they climbed the fence to enter the garden of the next, slightly larger, house.
They froze yet again, crouching there in the garden, long rifle barrels pointed in all directions, blank faceplates looking into the darkness, and long gaunt limbs tense. The spikes and aerials on Ramirez's back twitched nervously.
Tom had started scanning when, suddenly, his fingers froze over his arm computer controls. He reached over and softly tapped Ramirez's arm, pointing at the house whose garden they now occupied. Tom had something. For a split second, Tom thought he had heard something, something that wasn't among the noises he had heard till now. Whatever it was, it disappeared almost immediately, but it really didn't sound like anything else Tom had heard so far.
Ramirez motioned for Sergeant Jebadiah to move towards the house's back entrance while he and Tom moved to the front entrance.
"In position," Sergeant Jebadiah sent through the radio link. Tom and Ramirez assumed positions besides the house's main entrance, Tom trying to mimic Ramirez's expert operating procedures.
Tom shifted his hold on his rifle, making sure his left hand held it tightly while his right hand grabbed the rifle's trigger mechanism, ready to flick the safety and fire. Tom briefly looked down. His rifle was shaking.
"Move," Ramirez commanded, and they stormed into the house, breaking down the doors and ready to fire. But they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Further searching of the three sparsely furnished rooms on the ground floor and the two additional rooms on the second floor revealed nothing.
Tom started to breathe easier. In fact, his breathing hadn't changed at all since all his respiratory functions were taken care off by the Serpent, but he still felt easier now. During the search of this house, Tom had felt he had trouble breathing. It was a feeling of suffocation he couldn't control, even though he realized it was only in his mind.
Now, he relaxed a little, and he could look at his shaking rifle again. It was fear, plain and simple. He was glad they had found nothing inside. He was really just an intelligence officer. He really wasn't cut out for this house-to-house fighting stuff. He missed his desk and his computer. Tom tried keeping his mind on his surroundings, on his sensors' output, on his own Serpent's functions, on his teammates—
In a flash, a gargantuan black fist punched down from the roof, scattering splintered tiles, roof beams, debris and dust all over. Tom only had the time to emit a strangled shout before the fist crashed into Jebadiah’s Serpent, smashing its left shoulder and sending it sprawling across the floor of the second floor of the house.
Quick as a snake, Ramirez started firing, filling the air with his armor-piercing incendiary shots. Debris flew all over from the heavy bullets smashing everywhere, and shredding furniture, walls and the roof above.
"You're shooting at Jebadiah!" Tom shouted but Ramirez calmly exchanged magazines and continued shooting incessantly, his bullets punching holes in the roof as the black Serpent arm that had punched Jebadiah was pulled up.
Ramirez now extended to his full length, smashing up through the roof, rifle first. He jumped up and disappeared on the roof. Tom looked at the large hole Ramirez had created in the ceiling and then turned his horrified gaze at Jebadiah, who was twitching on the floor. The blow the sergeant had suffered had ripped through his left shoulder and almost disconnected his left arm from his torso altogether.
"Are you all right?" Tom asked stupidly. Sergeant Jebadiah slowly got up and looked down at his left arm. He tried raising his left arm but all he got were the sounds of electric motors choking, running on empty and spluttering. He tried again, but now all he got was the sound of futile electric hissing.
"Sir, pull out my left arm," the sergeant said, turning his left side towards Tom.
"Wha—what?"
"Sir, I need you to pull the left arm out."
Tom grabbed Sergeant Jebadiah's a
rm with both hands and—and—and Tom froze.
It's just a mechanical arm. His real left arm is inside the pilot's compartment, perfectly safe. They'll replace it after the exercise. It's just a mechanical arm.
The sergeant's head swiveled towards Tom and then it turned towards the broken left arm. He grabbed his left arm with his right hand, made sure the long black Serpent fingers had a good grip, and pulled sharply. The left arm came away at the shoulder, leaking some sort of hydraulic fluid and hissing as intermittent sparks flew all over from torn electrical connections.
"He's a good man, the captain is. I'm sure glad he'll be leading us in the mission. He's the best man for the job," the sergeant said cheerfully, and he threw his torn left arm to the side, picked up his rifle with his right hand and moved away.
It was the captain, Tom only now realized. The captain was their enemy in this exercise.
A little shaken, Tom followed the sergeant, throwing a last glance at the torn left arm that was still twitching a little, the motors inside it going crazy, some revving up while others stuttered. Then he looked at three fuming grooves on the back of Jebadiah's torso where the shots Ramirez fired had grazed the sergeant's Serpent.
"To the next house. Move," Ramirez's voice was even more cold and heartless than usual through the radio link.
They assembled outside the house, the sergeant holding his rifle with his right hand, balancing the stock on his arm.
The three Serpents were ten or fifteen feet apart, rifles aimed at the next house, crouching behind what cover they could find, trying to spot anything in the darkened windows.
Tom lowered his rifle and opened the armor plate that protected his left-arm computer. He started flicking the sensor controls, trying to spot anything on the infrared or audio ranges.
"I'm not getting anything. He must have moved on to another house," Tom sent though his link. He closed the armor panel and raised his rifle, pointing the heavy weapon at the house. "Or he's just laying low, waiting for us," Tom sent.
"I'll flush him out!" The sergeant sent and moved up behind his cover.
"Jebadiah! Get back here!" Tom sent urgently but the sergeant just kept advancing slowly towards the house, aiming his rifle from window to window, trying to cover them all.
Tom glanced at Ramirez, but his Serpent just kept his rifle pointed at the house, trigger finger ready, another magazine already placed on the roof of the car he had taken cover behind.
Sergeant Jebadiah reached the low fence encircling the house, paused there a moment and then vaulted over it, his ten-foot-tall Serpent negotiating it with ease. Then, he reached the house itself and crouched besides the entrance door.
"Sirs, just be ready to shoot when you see—"
The sergeant did not have time to finish. A huge black Serpent fist burst out of the wall of the house with a force that made broken bricks and wood chips fly across the street. The Serpent hand grabbed Jebadiah and pulled him inside the house, breaking the house's wall in two, exposing bricks and broken wooden panels.
"Jebadiah!" Tom's shout was drowned by the sound of Ramirez's shooting. Ramirez's Serpent fired almost continuously, emptying his magazine in less than five seconds, pulling it out and replacing it with another so fast it almost did not interrupt his shooting.
Tom did not shoot. He just looked on as the large-caliber bullets slammed into the house one after the other, breaking the door and parts of the wall that remained intact, uprooting a young tree that once stood in front of the house, and making a jagged section of the second floor crash down into the ground floor .Wooden chips, furniture parts, plaster and bricks flew everywhere from the many small explosions the Barrett bullets created. Ugly yellow flames sprang up, lurid and vivid in the night.
After about one minute, Ramirez stopped shooting. He replaced his last spent magazine and got up carefully, leaving the dense cordite cloud his shooting had created. He motioned for Tom to move, and he started advancing towards the stricken house.
Tom could see nothing beyond the destruction the shooting had created. He could not see Jebadiah, nor the captain's Serpent.
Come on, Tom. It's just an exercise. Everything will be all right after it. They will put Jebadiah back together, and we'll laugh about the whole thing. It's just an exercise.
Where is my desktop now? Tom couldn't help thinking. Where's my keyboard.
Tom got up from behind his cover and started moving slowly towards the house. His rifle was aimed at it, but he was not really looking for a target, just hoping to see that Jebadiah was all right inside the half-demolished house, where wooden beams, shelves and bricks were still falling among the many small conflagrations started by the fire fusillade of the heavy-caliber rounds. Ramirez advanced slowly from the north of the house.
They both reached it a few moments later, seeing nothing inside the house except the many small fires and a great cloud of dust. They entered the house and moved through the debris slowly, alert for any sound or motion, but they saw and heard nothing. No trace remained of either Sergeant Jebadiah's or Captain Emerson's Serpents.
After a few moments of sifting through the wreckage, Ramirez motioned for Tom to leave.
"But—"
Tom's transmission was cut short by Ramirez, who slapped Tom's face with the long talon-like fingers of his hand.
"Emerson is tracking our radio. No radio."
Ramirez went out into the street again. Tom followed him hesitatingly, holding his rifle as if he didn't know what to do with it.
A moment later both Serpents froze. Out on the street, in plain sight, stood Captain Emerson's Serpent. He held up Sergeant Jebadiah's Serpent, one hand on its throat and one hand on its torso. The sergeant's Serpent struggled weakly, but Captain Emerson held him aloft from behind and the thrashings of the sergeant's one arm and legs could not reach the captain.
"No!"
Even before the echo of Tom's shout faded away, the captain moved his arms, and in one smooth motion, ripped away the sergeant's head clear off his body with a tortured metallic tearing sound.
The captain dropped the sergeant's head and his body in one black pile, turned and sprinted away, moving at the top of his Serpent's speed.
Ramirez was already running and shooting. Small explosions of concrete spurted around Captain Emerson's Serpent from the impact of Ramirez's bullets.
To his great surprise, Tom found himself keeping pace with Ramirez, the street moving beneath him so fast he could not keep track of any details. Ramirez kept shooting, but Captain Emerson's Serpent weaved from side to side, and Ramirez kept missing. Tom still kept pace, one time leaping over a car, his leap taking him at least ten feet in the air above its roof.
"He's got the sergeant's rifle," Ramirez now sent through the radio link. Tom did not pay attention to Ramirez. He brought up his rifle and pressed the trigger but nothing happened. He pressed it again but the rifle did not fire.
The safety! Tom fumbled with the safety while the noise from Ramirez's shots engulfed them. The two Serpents ran down the street, weaving between and above stricken cars, trees and sidewalk benches. Tom finally flicked the safety, aimed his rifle and sent out a few shots that went nowhere near the running Serpent they were chasing.
Captain Emerson jumped up onto an SUV, leaving a deep impression from his claws on its engine hood, turned to the side and rounded a corner, sprinting even faster than he had before.
Ramirez and Tom chased after the captain. Ramirez held his fire, waiting for a clear shot, while Tom was fumbling with the magazine catch to free the empty magazine and replace it.
They rounded the corner and Tom looked up, not understanding what he saw. The captain stood calmly in the middle of the street, one Barrett anti-materiel rifle in each hand, holding them as if they were handguns. He raised the rifles and squeezed the triggers.
Tom tried closing his eyes, but he couldn't, of course. Stumbling, he fell sideways into a house's fence, crashing through its front gate. He rolled across a small
lawn before he reached the house, breaking through its front wall and entrance. During this time, Tom had managed to look back to see what was going on, though he dearly wished he hadn’t.
From a distance of less than seventy feet, Captain Emerson fired at Ramirez, his two rifles shooting in unison, filling the air with acrid black smoke, while the noise of the rifles' shots thundered down the street.
The heavy bullets hit Ramirez again and again, small bright explosions blossoming on his Serpent's head, front torso and arms. Ramirez's Serpent twitched repeatedly as the heavy bullets slammed into it, driving it back as if a giant was kicking and punching it. It stumbled and fell, then rolled over into the street, smashing a green Volkswagen beetle that had the misfortune to be parked in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Captain Emerson emptied his ten-round magazines, threw away Sergeant Jebadiah's rifle and sprang forward, reaching Ramirez before the lieutenant had time to recover and rise. Captain Emerson kicked down with one clawed foot, creating a crunching sound not unlike a coke can being crushed but magnified one hundred times. Then, the captain bent down and lifted Lieutenant Ramirez's Serpent, holding it behind from its neck as it had Sergeant Jebadiah's.
Ramirez struggled, twisting his whole body, but he couldn't reach the captain's Serpent. Tom froze while Captain Emerson turned slowly in his direction, his featureless viper head staring right at Tom, the horns on his head making him seem like an ancient vengeful god about to consume his sacrificial victim.
Tom, do something. You have a rifle in your hand. Shoot him, shoot the bastard. Shoot through Ramirez. Do something! Don't just lay there! However, although Tom's Serpent body was operating perfectly, he still felt a leaden weight smothering him: the weight of his fear. Tom could not move, nor change his sensor's focus, nor do anything else but stare at Captain Emerson's hand on Ramirez's throat.
Tom waited for the crunching sound he knew and dreaded as Ramirez's head was slowly pulled away from his body with the sound of a thousand electronic components wailing their death. Ramirez's Serpent, who a brief moment ago had been a terrible fighting machine, was now tossed carelessly onto the street like so much matt-black-colored garbage.