《A Filtered Conflict》 Chapter 1 Corporal Harry Trust groaned as he slid his feet out of his bunk, blinking to clear the light out of his eyes. Sitting up, he walked into his barracks¡¯ bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he swashed his face to wake himself up. Grabbing his toothbrush from his neatly labeled cubby, he brushed his teeth until they gleamed white. Then, Harry grabbed his razor and shaving cream to shave. Once Harry finished shaving he replaced the razor and cream, then dried his face with a grey towel. Walking to the locker at the end of the bunk, Harry opened his locker and peeled off his sleep wear. Looking into his locker, he grabbed his steel grey jumpsuit. Slipping it over himself, he zipped it up tight to his neck. Harry then slid his synthetic boots over his feet and tied them off. A hoarse voice greeted Harry from the next bunk over, "Morning Harry, how did you sleep?¡± ¡°Not that bad, Thompson, how did you sleep?¡± Harry replied, already moving to make sure his bunk mates were awake. Harry was responsible for keeping those two on schedule, as they were both members of his fire team. Knocking on the metal frame, he said, ¡°Alright Derick, Gerald. Get out of bed. Now.¡± Walking to the door, he pulled it open and stepped into the hall, pausing a moment after being hit by a blast of warm air. Looking at the dull steel walls, he walked. Striding down the hall at a decent pace, he noticed the Second Air Assault team¡¯s older sibling was not in their bunk room. Shrugging it off, he figured they must have an early morning training event. As Harry walked down the hall, he passed a large variety of rooms, ranging from barracks, to storage rooms, to offices, to life support rooms. Everything was one main building in Foba City, the third largest underground city in Nevexico, a nation formed from the remains of the states of New Mexico and Nevada after the Gas began to spread across the globe two-hundred years ago. Each level in Foba City had a different purpose, with the highest level being observation, the one directly bellow manufacturing and factories, then surface access and the launch pads, followed by the military levels, of which there were two. Just below the military levels were the offices and shops, with housing making its home on the next level down. Below housing were several layers of food production, with power production being the very bottom layer. While Harry idly thought about his home, he continued to walk. Further down the corridor Harry stopped at the softly glowing sign next to the canteen that read: Potato Soup and Milk for Breakfast Scallop Potatoes and Milk for Lunch Baked Potatoes with Butter and Carrot Juice for Supper Once he got into the canteen, he grabbed a bowl of soup and a cup of milk and sat down at a table near the front. Blowing on every spoonful before placing it in his mouth, he ate his soup. While Harry was eating his soup, he also glanced at the TV, but observed it was only advertisements. The rest of his unit gradually filed in, grabbing their soup and milk, and sitting around the canteen. After a few more minutes of eating, Harry¡¯s friend, Jonas, a ground support staff for the Blackhawks, sat across from him. ¡°Harry, did you manage to catch the game last night?¡± Jonas inquired, beginning to eat as he asked. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t quite manage to, could you catch me up on it?¡± Harry followed his reply up with a gulp of milk, hoping he could cool his throat down. ¡°Well, last night¡¯s Gooseball game, which was between the Foba City Flowers and Statler Trees, and ended with the Flowers having 16 geese and the Trees having 4.¡± Jonas said, before eating a spoonful of soup and continuing. ¡°Had the game gone on another 10 minutes, Trees probably would have won, as in the last 2 minutes Trees stole 3 geese from the Flower¡¯s coop.¡± Whistling softly, Harry asked, ¡°And Foba just let them take the geese like that?¡± ¡°Well, the defenders for Foba threw all the balls they could get at the Trees¡¯ attackers, as well as chased them to try and tag them up close, but the Trees dodged the balls and ran like a cheetah was nipping at their feet.¡± ¡°If the Trees¡¯ attacker could play like that, why did they only start doing so in the last three minutes?¡± ¡°Well, I am guessing that the attackers had an adrenaline rush when they realized the defenders only had one goose left to defend.¡± Having finished his soup, Harry stood, grabbing the tray. Harry walked to the dairy dishes window and stacked the tray and bowl in their respective piles. He put his glass into the cup organizer, before returning to his seat. Sitting back down, he noticed Jonas was watching the television. Looking over, he saw it was on the local news. After several minutes of watching, he got the gist of the story, with it pertaining to how Congress is voting on a bill to bring intercity internet. The plan for that was to lay the initial lines along the train tracks, and only allow emails to be transmitted between cities initially. Anything beyond that point was just speculation. ¡°Do you think Congress will actually pass this bill?¡± Harry said, turning to Jonas. After a moment of thinking, Jonas hesitantly started, his hands moving in small, slow circles, ¡°Well, they probably will. The only concern is whether or not they approve the placing of lines with higher capacity, allowing more than just emails to be sent. After all, right now I can only play War Thunder matches with the people in the city.¡± With a bit of a chuckle, Harry responded ¡°Why do you still play that game? It¡¯s from when our great-great-grandparents were kids. Why not play something more modern like¡­ Oh I don¡¯t know, Mount and Blade 4: Empire of the North.¡± ¡°Well, why would I care about playing the remake of a game from our great-great-grandparent¡¯s and great-grandparent¡¯s life when I could play the original of them?¡± ¡°Better graphics, faster computing speed, less likely to get corrupted files.¡± Harry listed casually, knowing it would get a rise from Jonas. ¡°Well, yes, but I still-¡°Jonas started to respond with some defensiveness, before getting cut off when Lieutenant Yorkshire walked into the canteen. ¡°All members of the Second Air Assault Platoon start preparing for a search and recovery mission.¡± And just like that, Harry and the rest of his unit were up and rushing out the door. Moving at a brisk pace, the Second Air Assault walked towards their bunk room. Retracing their steps back to the barracks, they moved with a rapid pace towards the bunk room. Entering the room, Harry beelined for the lockers at the end of his bed. Flipping the one bearing his name open, he reached in and grabbed a field uniform from it. Stripping off what he was wearing for the second time that day, Harry hung the jumpsuit over the door. Peeling the desert brown field uniform off its hanger, he slipped the jumpsuit over his body, zipping it shut once secure. Closing his locker, Harry made his way out of the room. Entering the warm hallway, he began walking towards the armory. Passing various other unit¡¯s rooms, he made his way through the military levels of the city, approaching the armory. Once Harry reached the armory, he joined the line for equipment checkout. As soon as he reached the front of the line, he quickly filled out the paperwork to acquire his M16A6 and M1911. Harry quickly filed the release forms, and he was promptly green-lit to proceed through a set of armored doors. Entering the familiar room, Harry walked down the aisles of weapons and body armor to his Platoon¡¯s shelves. Locating his locker, he opened it and grabbed his plate carrier. Sliding it on over his head, Harry tightened it onto his torso. He then pulled his backpack out and pulled it over his shoulders. Next, Harry grabbed his helmet and gas mask, attaching it to his bag by a bungee cord.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Harry pulled out his M16a6 and M1911. The M16a6 was a 7.62 modification of the M16a4, the larger rounds adding more range and penetration. Placing the pistol in the holster, Harry brought the rifle strap over his head. Just before closing his locker, Harry snatched up his cleaning supplies. Leaving the armory, Harry made his way to Supplies and Requisitions. Arriving there, Harry once again got in line, waiting for his turn to get his food and water stocked, enough for three days in the desert. Once the paperwork was filed and the MREs obtained, he began to walk back to the bunk room. As soon as Harry was back in the bunk room, he spread his equipment out over his sheets. He began silently checking and double checking them. Then he grabbed his cleaning materials and disassembled his weapons to wipe, scrub, and scour them thoroughly. As Harry cleaned his weapons, he began to idly talk with Freeman, the platoon medic and Thomas, another rifle man. ¡°What did you guys think of the menu today?¡± ¡°Better than yesterday, there was some variety in the food¡± Thomas replied, feeding a brush through his guns barrel. ¡°It¡¯ll be nice if the quartermasters can keep the carrots coming in for a while.¡± ¡°Yeah, it would.¡± Freeman replied as he counted the bandages in his medical kit. ¡°It also gives us a better nutritional variety, helps us stay healthy.¡± ¡°Say,¡± Harry started as he put a wiped some carbon buildup away, ¡°Don¡¯t carrots help improve vision?¡± ¡°No, they do not. That was just a misinformation campaign started by the British in World War Two.¡± Freeman replied, giving Harry a sidelong look. Suddenly, Gordon started cursing as he got up and hopped about his bed, clutching his foot. ¡°Shit Fuck Fucking shit dick ass eating whore of a shitting sailor that fucking hurt like getting my dick chopped off. FUCK¡± Laughing, Johnson, a squad Sergeant, got up and walked over to Gordon ¡°Hey there buddy, what¡¯d you do to your toe?¡± As he said that, Johnson moved Gordon¡¯s backpack and guided him over to the clear spot. ¡°Alright, what caused you to curse like a drunk sailor who just lost their job?¡± In between curse words, Gordon managed to say, ¡°Dropped my radio on my toe, felt like a brick.¡± Which led to even more laughter around the room. Johnson shook his head and wandered back to what he was doing before. Following another moment of silence, Freeman says ¡°What exactly do you guys think we are searching for?¡± Without missing a beat, Thomas replies, ¡°Probably has something to do with First Platoon being gone this morning. They probably screwed up and we are getting to clean it up.¡± Harry leaned in and said, ¡°Thomas, what is it you have against First Platoon? They¡¯ve never screwed up before.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s First Platoon.¡± Thomas cryptically replied. Following that, Thomas turned away and began to disassemble and clean his pistol. This lead to a lull in the conversation as everybody cleaned and checked their gear. Before long, Harry had polished his knife enough times it could be considered a mirror. Eventually, they were told to line up by the platoon sergeant, Ash Asherson. ¡°I¡¯m sure his parents thought they were hilarious.¡± Harry thought as he gathered his equipment and joined the line. Once everybody was in line, Sergeant Asherson led them out into the corridor. After a few moments of walking, they reached the airlock that lead to the exterior access floors. Stepping through the airlock, Harry waited in front of a bank of three elevators. Crowding into the one of the three elevators, Harry was squished to the side, as the doors closed. Somebody managed to hit the UP button and activated the elevator. As the metal contraption trundled upwards toward the surface, Harry wondered about what the mission would bring. Before getting too deep into thought, the elevator shuddered to a stop. The doors dinged open, and everybody stumbled haphazardly out of the elevator into the corridor. After a moment¡¯s pause, the unit once again lined up and continued on their way. Entering the hanger, Harry could see about twenty-five chairs were organized into four columns, with six chairs each. Nearby there were three Blackhawks being prepared for flight. At the front of the hanger, there were massive steel sliding doors with access to the surface runway. Harry sat in a folding chair behind his squad¡¯s sergeant, Theodoor Watson. The other members of his squad were Thomas, Thompson, Gerald, and Derick. The last two were part in the fire team Harry led. Following a minute of silence as everybody sat sat down, Lieutenant Yorkshire walked to the board and began, ¡°Last night a train carrying supplies and information was forced to stop by mutants. It came to a rest over a canyon, with the engine unable to restart. As crew members and soldiers unloaded supplies and sent an S.O.S. to us, the insurgents in the area destroyed the bridge.¡± Pausing for a moment, Yorkshire pinned a map up onto the board and circled a canyon. ¡°This morning the First Platoon was dispatched in two chinooks to retrieve survivors, unaware of the insurgents at the time. The unit was able to retrieve survivors with no losses and confirmed several threats in the area.¡± Turning to the board again, he marked several spots on the map with red, ¡°There are Blood Eagles that live in or near the canyon, preventing us from landing right there. There are also roaming groups of mutants, however, we are unsure about most of their species. You can be sure that Scorpibigs will be active in the area. The insurgents appear to be stealing materials from the destroyed train and may have brought anti air weapons.¡± ¡°Our mission is to locate the messenger who was on the train, living or dead, likely dead, and bring the information she carried back to base. The messenger was last wearing the standard issue green button up, blue bottoms, and a standard issue government mask. The information we are looking for should be found in small metal box. The box will contain a single USB stick. The contents of the USB is highly classified and time critical, so we must retrieve it before a curious insurgent picks it up.¡± ¡°Command also wants to be able to secure as many supplies as we can for later retrieval, as it was being shipped to help maintain our already shaky alliance with the villagers that reside outside the cities.¡± Once again turning to the board, he marked four spots south and west of the canyon with a new color. ¡°Due to the location of the crash and the threats present, we will be landing three miles north of the canyon, in this area¡± He circled a small area on the map in blue. ¡°Once we retrieve the information we will also exfil from this location.¡± ¡°After landing there, we will walk three miles south to the canyon. From there, two squads will remain on the lip of the canyon, providing covering fire, spotting enemies, and holding the extra food and water for the two squads that will be moving into the canyon. The two squads going below the lip will be searching for the messenger and the metal box contain the USB stick.¡± After a moment of scanning his notes, Yorkshire continued, ¡°The only support we will be able to receive will be from an howitzer unit being placed north east of the radiation fields in the area. They will not arrive for about two hours, so we can¡¯t get into any deep shit until then.¡± He paused for a moment, allowing for a few chuckles before continuing, ¡°Remember, because this information is on the messenger, we cannot call in a strike on the canyon itself, at least not until we are clear of the area.¡± ¡°The mission is estimated to last somewhere between seven and twelve hours, but you were to pack three days of food and water just in case somebody survived the bridge collapse, or if we are delayed finishing the mission. We are to leave in fifteen minutes, once the pilots and Blackhawks are ready for takeoff.¡± Seemingly content with his briefing, Yorkshire said, ¡°Any questions on something, or anything I didn¡¯t cover?¡± A soldier towards the back of a column, CPL Eric, Harry noted, raised his hand ¡°What are our call signs?¡± Following a quiet minute of the Lieutenant looking through his notes, the Platoon Sergeant stepped forward and whispered into his ear. As the Platoon Sergeant stepped back, the Lieutenant said, ¡°The call sign for the Blackhawks are Black Sun-1 through 3, our call sign is Green Noose-1, command is Red Queen-6, and the howitzers are Blue Thunder-1.¡± Standing, Harry and his squad gathered their equipment. Slinging his pack over his shoulder and following SSG Watson, Harry made his way to Black Sun-2. Before slinging his pack on fully, he performed one last check on his equipment. He swung them up and onto his pack, wobbling a bit as it hit his back. Climbing into the craft, he sat and pulled his mask over his face. As he did so, the rest of the squad followed suit, covering all their faces with a uniformed anonymity. SSG Watson was the last one into the craft, pulling the door shut behind him. After a moment of silence, the screeching of the hanger doors pierced the silence, the doors shuddering open, allowing the Blackhawks to leave. Trundling out onto a well maintained tarmac, Harry watched as ground crew rushed about, preparing for the aircrafts¡¯ departure. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The aircraft wheeled onto different pads to avoid colliding on take off and began to spool up their rotary blades. The blades accelerated faster and faster, quickly becoming a circular blur above the helicopters. They began to lift off the ground, slowly tilting forwards as they did so. The blades pulling the crafts off the ground, they flew off into the dessert. A few ground crew members watched them disappear over the horizon, before hurrying to prepare fuel for when the aircraft returned. Chapter 2 The helicopters raced over the surface of the desert and Harry was passively gazing out the window. The seat he rested on was an uncomfortable cold steel frame. His rifle rested between his legs, the barrel leaning against his left thigh. Harry¡¯s head momentarily swiveled across the interior of the Blackhawk, the eleven other soldiers in the interior sitting on identical seats. They all sit in different states of tense relaxation, either slumping over their knees or resting their back on the seat. Harry was looking at the shadows of the other crafts race over ditches and hills. The occasional tufts of grass whipping in the updraft generated from the rotary blades cutting through the air. Several tumble weeds were ripped up and sent blowing across the desert by their voyage, spreading their seeds as they did. At one point, Harry saw a small herd of Inglas, a blobby, featureless, mutant that were relatively harmless. The Inglas were rolling along the desert, kicking up dust and sand as they did so. The few plants that crossed their path were absorbed by the leaders of the herd, to be regurgitated and divided later. When the helicopters passed over their heads, the Inglas panicked and rapidly changed direction, trundling towards the east. In their panic, one Inglas rolled over another and absorbed it. The Inglas that absorbed the other swelled to twice its size. It was¡­ disconcerting to Harry, that they could easily eat each other, and not even pause or worry. At one point, the platoon flew over the cracked and weathered remains of an old highway. Two parallel roads ran north south, curving around long abandoned houses in the distance. A road that ran at a 45-degree angle had once crossed over the highway on a bridge. The bridge collapsed long ago, pockmarked with bullet holes and impact craters from mortar shells. The twisted, rusted remains of cars and one tank lay a boned on the road, rotting for all eternity. After a half hour of flying, the helicopters changed direction slightly, angling more towards the east. Sitting up, Harry looked around, before speaking into a microphone on his headset, ¡°Sergeant Watson, why are we changing direction?¡± Turning towards Harry and leaning out of his seat, a little Sergeant Watson replied ¡°A radioactive area is between Foba City and the canyon. Unless you enjoy radiation poisoning, the pilots are going to take us around it.¡± Following the rather curt explanation, he leaned back into his seat, shifting side to side in an attempt to get comfortable. Satisfied with the answer, Harry turned his head back towards the window. The sandy desert with little grass was gradually being replaced with sandy soil speckled with grass everywhere. There was also the occasional tree, all scraggly looking and barely clinging to life. While Harry was watching the landscape race by below, he thought about how Lieutenant Yorkshire had neglected to mention the radiation zone. ¡°Hopefully, he didn¡¯t forget any other crucial details.¡± Harry thought, a small frown appearing below his mask. Banishing this thought from his mind, Harry returned to watching the ground below. When helicopters rapidly shot over the transitioning ground a member of another squad, Specialist Jax, jokingly said, ¡°And here, you can see the beautiful plains of But¨¨ Village, named for a flourishing metropolis in the area. If you are lucky enough, look out the right side of the Blackhawks you may see the village square.¡± Not long after Jax said this, the sandy soil gave way for fields of beans and wheat, some having the local villagers tending them. All of them looked up and seemed to glare mistrustfully at the aircraft. A few parents seemed to have ordered their children inside. When Harry looked a little closer, he could see dry, cracked irrigation ditches running between groups of crops. Harry could see potatoes, turnips, and maybe a patch of onions. They all looked wilted and dry, but that was to be expected when it was the hottest season of the year. The villagers were probably saving their water for themselves, and rationing out the bare minimum to the plants they grew. Off to one side of the village was a pasture. The pasture had a small shed next to the entrance, and its fences were made of rusted steel tubes. In the pasture were several small, wooly, and horned animals. Harry had never seen or heard of these animals. Just judging from the materials most the villagers wore he assumed that they must be what the villagers used to make their clothes. Harry turned his attention to the people, and observed that they all wore gas masks, varying from simple cloth and filter masks to far more complex masks like what Harry wore. All the villagers wore thin flowing fabrics over their bodies and moved as if they barely got enough food to live. As he watched one fell into a limp pile of flesh in a field. Several villagers made their way to the motionless villager. Harry did not see what happened after. In one field a group of villagers was damming an irrigation ditch. They paused when the helicopters flew overhead, some flinching as they did so. One worker snapped rigid and turned towards the helicopter. Despite his face being covered in shadows from a wide brimmed cloth hat, his body language showed Harry that he was furious at something. Perhaps he had missed the root of a plant he was weeding. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.Small numbers of the stronger, or perhaps better fed, villagers stalked into a stout mud building. Soon after, they emerged from the dark interior armed with AKMs and M4s. At least, that¡¯s what it looked like they had. Harry doubted that those were originals, given it had been two hundred years since the last time they were stably produced. The group then formed a haggard line outside of the building, their heads tracking the helicopter¡¯s path across the sky. The villagers entering the stout mud building drew Harry¡¯s attention from the inhabitants of the village to its buildings. Harry noted that there were not consistent building materials. A stark contrast to the identical steel and concrete hallways and rooms of Foba City. Several houses were made of wood, while many more were a mix of adobe and wood. There were also a few concrete buildings scattered about. A closer look revealed that there was one building in the center of the village that was a red brick, worn and weathered by years of exposure to the elements. Harry was stirred from his thoughts when Derick asked, ¡°Does anybody know, are these occultists that will try and sacrifice a member of their village to the Gas?¡± Derick asked, looking around the helicopter. ¡°No.¡± Thompson replied, ¡°These villagers will always wear masks. They are not willing to risk the possibility of the Gas mutating one of their own. As far as I am aware, at least, from what I have learned, none of the villages in this area have ever tried to sacrifice or offer a fellow resident to the Gas. Of course, they may have once, but tha-¡° Thompson was interrupted by Sergeant Ronald, ¡°And we are going to be cautious no matter what, regardless of what the villager¡¯s beliefs are.¡± After a moment of silence, the sergeant continued. ¡°And try to minimize radio traffic. Mission related communication only.¡± After this announcement by the sergeant, the helicopter filled with a thick silence. As Harry settled into the silence, he glanced out the window and noticed that just as quickly as the fields of beans and wheat appeared, they faded. The bounds of the village¡¯s control rapidly transformed back into sandy plains. Not long after, Harry only could see grass and scraggly trees. Shadows of the helicopter shot over the grass, and the deafening sound of the blades chopping the air cut through the silence. Not long after the village had been left behind, the trio of helicopters banked towards the west. As they did the lieutenant spoke over the radios, ¡°In about 15 minutes we will reach the landing zone. As soon as the area is secure, I will tell your squad leaders how we will hike to the canyon. From there we will hike there, do recon, retrieve the package, and leave.¡± As soon as the radio went silent the interior of Black Sun-2 was filled with the sounds of rustling fabric and clinking metal. Everybody in Blackhawk was checking their gear, making sure it was ready for battle. Harry checked his rifle, confirming the bolt worked. He removed the magazine from it and made sure it had thirty rounds in it. Sliding the pistol out of its holster, he moved the slide back and then removed the magazine. After reloading his weapon in one fluid motion, it was replaced in the holster. He then felt his knife and confirmed it was still there. Soon the helicopters began to slow and approach the ground. As they did the radio once again crackled to life, with Lt. Yorkshire barking out, ¡°We are approaching the landing zone, Black Sun-2 is landing first.¡± Yorkshire had barely finished speaking when the other two of the helicopters banked off in another direction. While those helicopters circled the area slowly, Black Sun-2 descended to the ground. No sooner than when it touched the ground did the door flung open, and everybody sprang out of the Blackhawk. Hitting the ground in a crouch, Harry kept low as he sprinted out from under the blades of the helicopter. Once he was clear he made sure he was evenly spaced out from the other soldiers and began scanning the area. As Harry slowly swiveled his head to confirm nothing was going to attack, the second Blackhawk landed within the circle Harry¡¯s squad formed. The soldiers in this one repeated what they had done moments before, spreading out and filling in gaps in the circle around the landing zone. Once the second Blackhawk lifted off the ground and began to circle the third and final Blackhawk landed, disgorging a squad and the platoon command. Once the squad had taken position, the final Blackhawk took off, circling the area once before falling into a Flying V formation with the others. The helicopters then raced away, disappearing over the horizon. As they did so Lieutenant Yorkshire called over the squad leaders. While the lieutenant and the squad sergeants discussed a plan of action, Harry continued to watch the area. Eyes scouring the ground, Harry watched intently for anything that could be a threat. As he looked to side to side, he noted a short, wide bush that could conceal a person, and a hill that would have a great firing advantage over them. Once Harry identified those potential positions for threats, he watched the area, paying particularly close attention to those two spots. Then his radio crackled too life in his ear, startling him a bit. From the radio the voice of Lt. Yorkshire could be heard. ¡°The platoon will being moving over in a traveling overwatch formation. Sergeant Watson¡¯s squad will be leading the formation, Sergeant Ronald¡¯s, and Sergeant Berisho¡¯s squad will be in the middle, and Sergeant Johnson¡¯s squad will be bringing up the rear.¡± ¡°Understood¡± Harry chorused with twenty-four other voices. Walking to his squad lead, he took up his position to the left of Watson. Gerald and Derick fell in to the left and behind Harry, as they were both members of Harry¡¯s fire team. Thomas and Thompson fell into formation to the right of Watson. Watson looked back to the Lieutenant and gave him a thumbs up. Lieutenant Yorkshire then gave the order to move out. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª Moving forward, rifles at the ready and searching the ground and sky in front of them, the squad began to walk towards the canyon. Once the forward squad was about 50 feet away the lieutenant gave the orders to the rest of the platoon to move out. As the yellow midday sun beat down on the desert soil the platoon made a slow, careful advance towards danger. Chapter 3 As Harry and his squad led the way across the desert, he held his rifle ready and swept it across the skyline. As he did so he concentrated on the sky, looking for anything that could indicate a mutant. A single hostile mutant like the Blood Eagles could spell disaster and death for the operation. A single Blood Eagle is large enough to carry off two soldiers in a single pass, and its blood can cause infections if it drips onto you as it dives past. A Blood Eagle then carries them off to its nest to be eaten. Blood Eagles were easy to spot. All it took we a glance at the horizon every few minutes, and then a few shots to the wings or head. The Scorpibigs on the other hand were exceedingly difficult to identify. The most you could see as evidence was a dry patch of dirt or torn up grass. If these were not spotted and nobody was unfortunate enough to step on it early enough, a Scorpibig could pinch several key members of a formation from the center of it. These thoughts of importance drifted out of a distracted Harry, his mind and attention pulled elsewhere. Suddenly he blinked rapidly for a moment, and refocused himself on looking for any signs of danger. As he continued to advance, Harry intently made sure there was nothing to him right forward in the sky, then the center forward, followed by the left forward. Then turning farther to the left, Harry continued to look for anything there. He then repeated this in reverse, once again clearing the skies. Every time he completed this loop, he turned partway around and checked the sky behind him, making sure nothing was in between them and the platoon¡¯s main body. Turning back, he once again scanned the skies. As he did so, he noticed a bird in the distance. The bird continued to fly off in the distance, and gradually got smaller. Without breaking his pattern, Harry spoke to Sergeant Watson, ¡°Sir, there is a bird in the distance. Too far to determine what it is. It¡¯s moving away from us, but I figured you¡¯d want to know.¡± Without breaking stride, Watson said ¡°I see it, doesn¡¯t look like it should be a problem for now. Tell me if it changes direction towards us.¡± ¡°I will, sir.¡± Harry replied, continuing to search the skies. Moving forward, the platoon continued to have a good pace. After many minutes of monotonous walking, the ground began to slant downwards, getting lower the closer to the canyon they got. While Harry continually searched the horizon, he stepped on a rock, losing his balance, and almost falling. As he waved his arms, trying to regain his balance, Watson held up his fist and halted the squad. The squad stopped and watched silently as Harry regained his balance. ¡°Ah, c¡¯mon Harry, have you been drinking enough water? Are you okay? ¡°Derick replied brazenly, beginning to take a step forward. Derick stepping forward drew Harry¡¯s eyes to the ground. He noticed that there was a patch of torn up grass and dirt in front of Derick. As soon as Harry saw this the gears in his head began to spin. Something, just something, was wrong with what he was looking at. After a moment of thought Harry realized what his mind was telling him was off. ¡°SHIT Derick don¡¯t mo-¡± By the time the gears in Harry¡¯s head compiled, registered, and processed that it was a Scorpibig¡¯s trap, Derick had stepped on it. A sudden eruption of sand and chunks of dirt exploded upwards. Harry scrambled backwards and raised his rifle, bringing it up to a firing position. As Harry did so Derick screamed in terror and pain, being thrown off the ground and then having his sides pierced by a massive pincher. Blood sprayed out of the wounds, splattering the ground and claws around him as he was pulled under the ground. In a grab for survival, Derick seized the edge of the hole, yelling in again as the pincers yanked him backwards, into the hole. While this was happening to Derick, Harry fired a burst at the hide of the beast, hoping to distract it enough so that it would drop Derick. When all three 7.62 rounds slamming into its armored hide did nothing, not deterring or harming it, Harry backed away, weapon pointing at the hole. Gerald carefully maneuvered around the trap, keeping his weapons ready and never turning their backs to it. The rest of the squad carefully backed away, weapon barrels never pointing away from the pit. At the same time, the rest of the squad carefully ran closer to the trap, stopping close to Harry. Sergeant Watson reported what happened on his radio, "Lieutenant, found a Scorpibig trap, one confirmed casualty.¡± He then turned to Thomas, and gave an order, ¡°Thomas, throw a grenade into the hole. Do not get any closer to the hole than you have too, I don¡¯t want double casualties before even seeing the enemy.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± Thomas replied while removing a grenade from his vest. Once he had it off, he squeezed the lever and pulled the pin. Once the pin was pulled, he threw it underhand into the hole. After four seconds the grenade exploded. Dirt was flung upwards with shrapnel from the grenade. The fwomp of the fragmentation followed moments later. After moments pause Thomas picked up a large stone and, using a wide swinging stance, heaved over next to the hole, waiting to see if the Scorpibig would react. When it did not react, he slowly walked over to the edge of the hole, skittering back a little after every step. After several seconds of this he reached the hole and peaked over the edge. ¡°It¡¯s dead and in pieces, so is Derick. No way could this be recovered at this point.¡± Thomas replied, his voice dipping from neutral to a mild sadness towards the end of his statement. He stepped back, and looked away from the pit.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Harry looked back at the platoon¡¯s main body, watching to see what the lieutenant would do. The officer looked to be giving orders to the rest of the platoon, and Harry hoped he would tell them to come help. Turning back to the problem at hand Harry checked with Gerald to make sure he was okay. ¡°Fuck, Gerald are you okay? Any shrapnel or shit hit you?¡± Harry asked, his voice shaking a little. Gerald¡¯s response came immediately, ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Didn¡¯t get hit with anything.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t believe we didn¡¯t notice the pit until after Derick had stepped on it. Fuck, had I just been more attentive, or faster he-¡± ¡°Yeah, well there is nothing we can do now. You need to get your head back in the game, unless you want to end up like Derick.¡± Gerald said this and turned away, looking at the pit. During this exchange Watson had been receiving orders from Yorkshire. As soon as his radio was no longer crackling with life, he turned to his squad. ¡°The lieutenant has decided that we are to be moved to the center of the formation, on the left flank.¡± Following the orders Lieutenant Yorkshire gave, Harry¡¯s squad rotated to the left flank. They were now walking to the left side of the platoon, and every few paces they turned about and swept their vision across the horizon, looking for mutants or insurgents. Then came the post engagement checks. After an incident of soldiers being unaccounted for, with no ammo or medical support offered, every lull in between an engagement was followed by a checklist to complete. Everybody checked in, reported any injury, got their injuries checked by a medical professional, reported any usage of weapons, and then checked in one last time. The officer in charge would eventually decide everything was handy dandy give the orders on whatever followed. Everybody found it tedious and unnecessary, but followed the procedure regardless, for fear of reprimands. Any disregarding of procedures, no matter how unimportant, would result in a reprimand, or a court-martial. Many soldiers had been relieved of duty for not sticking to the books -regardless of effectiveness. The platoon continued to advance, this time nobody grew casual or inattentive. Every wild animal. Every patch of dry dirt. Every out of place sound. They entire platoon would pause, while the soldiers who spotted it told their squad sergeant. The Lieutenant would then give the order to keep moving. This slowed the platoon¡¯s advance considerably. Following another fifteen minutes of walking, the ground became more solid and rocky. There was less sand in the soil, but the soil was shallower than before. The number of trees dropped down to near zero, the few that grew through the rock being old and strong. The grass was short, brown, and stalwart. Thick rocky ground meant the canyon was closer, with this rock forming an erosion resistant barrier slowing the spread of the canyon. Harry was scanning the horizon when Sergeant Watson gave a hurried order to stop. Harry stopped. Then the right flank exploded with the sound of gun fire. Whipping about, Harry saw a streak of red blitz past the ground. The men of the right flank swiveled to follow it with their weapons, one of them firing a burst at the streak. At the same time, Harry and the rest of his squad brought their weapons up. Harry, Watson, Gerald, and Thomas bringing up rifles, Thompson bringing up his machine gun. The red streak then shot upwards, splattering red and green along the ground as it did so. It slowed at the peak of its climb, allowing Harry to get a clear look at the Blood Eagle. Then it dove down again. This time, it charged towards Harry¡¯s squad, followed by a hail of gunfire. Harry and his squad scattered, rushing in every direction. The eagle closed rapidly, screaming close enough to Harry and Watson that they dove face first into the sandy soil. Rolling over and scrambling to his feet, Harry swung his head around looking for the eagle. He found it banking towards the south. Raising his rifle, he found his sight, led the target, and fired a burst. The burst struck the beast¡¯s left wing, and it wobbled and flapped its wings. It began to climb again, before a stream of bullets from Cale¡¯s machine gun ripped into and through its spine, killing it instantly. The eagle fell like a brick, striking the ground in a heap of feathers and blood. Lowering his rifle, Harry turned around and found Sergeant Watson, covered in blood and puss. Jogging over, Harry slung his rifle over his back, and raised his hands questioningly, unsure of what to do. Following a moment of silent confusion, Harry heard muffled laughter coming from Watson. ¡°Well shit, I didn¡¯t think this would happen today. I need to take a bath for sure.¡± Watson wheezed, ¡°Oh this is going to be a pain in the backside to clean off.¡± After a moment, Watson stopped chuckling. Harry could still see the amusement even through the polarized lenses of the mask. Turning away, Harry shook his head, a smile of his own playing across his lips. His smile faded when he remembered he hadn¡¯t checked in with the Gerald since the attack. Harry leaned towards the radio and spoke, hoping none of his worry showed through, ¡°Did the eagle get anybody?¡± After a moment of silence everybody in the platoon began sounding off. All 26 soldiers survived. The check in that followed was issued by Freeman, the medic in attached to the platoon. Everybody was fine, except for one bruised arm. The soldier in question attested to it being perfectly operable and just a bit sore, but Freeman examined it, claiming only he could determine that. It was fine. In the following minutes there were more checks, procedures, and orders that followed. Most of it Harry tuned out, only being attentive when he reported he fired a burst. As soon as the LT decided every box was checked and squared, they continued the advance. Continuing onwards, the ground sloped downwards towards the canyon. The ground became softer, with more soil and trees becoming readily apparent. The long-gone river that had once flowed through the land had deposited soil and sediment, allowing plants to grow strong and healthy there. The ground here was specially suited for a canyon, with a plateau of soft rock being slowly carved away. The harder rock beneath it holding soil and sedentary allowing plant life to flourish. This posed a potential threat, with enemy outposts or look outs able to be hidden easily within the foliage. They could wreak havoc on a formation, blindly firing from the forest before disappearing into the trees to attack later. Once the platoon reached the wooded area they spread out, and slowed down, to avoid detection from any look outs the insurgents placed. The foliage grew thick, untouched and unmaintained by humans. Every soldier was far enough apart that they could only see one soldier on either side. The woods were full of life, plant and animal. Fuzzy balls with eyes facing every direction scurried about, with small feathered wings attached to a small beak and body blindly fluttering about as well. But the soldiers didn¡¯t take notice of them, instead opting to remain slightly hunched over, weapons held ready. Eyes swept the wooded land before every step. Harry was far off to the left flank, with only Gerald between him and the edge of the formation. The vegetation was thick, battling for dominance over the available sunlight between the towering trees. His careful scanning of the vegetation yielding no results. Nothing had came of the agonizingly slow advance once entering the trees. Not a single out of place object had been spotted by anybody along the line. Harry continued to move forwards, never more than two steps ahead or behind anybody else in the line. His continued attentiveness had brought about no oddities in the trees. Then, he stepped forward. And realized he could hear something other than rustling of animals. It sounded more manufactured, or filtered. It didn¡¯t fit with the high pitched shrieking of the fluffy things, nor the clacking of the feathered beaks. Voices. Harry could hear voices coming through the trees. These voices weren¡¯t the same as anybody¡¯s in the platoon. They had to be insurgents. No doubt. Carefully, slowly, quietly, he turned on his radio, and whispered into it. He reported that he found enemy elements. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The radios all along the quarter mile line of infantry quietly crackled to life, filled with information. Orders were given, weapons readied, and positions changed. The right side of the formation slowly swung around, to catch the enemy position in a cross fire. Soon, everything was set. All that was left was a single order to be given. Chapter 4 ¡°Open fire.¡± Those words made almost every Nevexican weapon spring to life. Bullets raced through the trees, tearing through leaves and embedding in trees. Tracers lit the the woods up a neon green. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, not that it could penetrate the Nevexican soldier¡¯s filters. The mutated wildlife scampered away into the trees, abandoning the area until the strange bipeds with the loud sticks left. Harry¡¯s first burst tore into the shadow of an insurgent, dropping it. The weapon it held clattered to the ground, firing two shots before coming to a rest. A burst from the right of him spun off into the forest, not making contact. A machine gunner walked his fire towards a group of four insurgents crowded around a table. They scrambled to kick away from the table, two of them getting entangled on their chairs. The other sprinted away, one tripping and collapsing to the ground. The two insurgents closest to the gunner were riddled with bullets, falling limp while trying to stand and kick away the chairs. Gerald fired a shot into one of the insurgent¡¯s knees, who promptly fell. The other insurgent crawled to behind a tree, cowering behind it. Sergeant Berisho¡¯s squad carefully edged around the camp towards the tree. They reached it, weapons raised, and ordered the insurgent to surrender. He did so without hesitation. They then apprehended him, and brought him to the center of the camp. Berisho¡¯s squad proceeded to move through the small camp, checking the bodies of insurgents. After making sure the insurgents were dead, and taking any compatible ammunition, the surviving two insurgents were bound and placed in the middle of the camp. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and their legs bound together. They struggled against the zip ties around their wrist for a few minutes, before giving up with red wrists. Once the camp was cleared the Lieutenant filled out the paperwork again, gathering information on the amount of ammunition used, the amount gained, prisoners taken, and insurgents killed. When he finished he assigned Berisho¡¯s squad to guarding the captured outpost. He also ordered them to watch the prisoners. As the rest of the platoon began to march away Berisho and his soldiers began to move about the camp, setting up chairs and assigning guards to the prisoners. Over the radio Harry overheard a conversation between Lieutenant Yorkshire and CPL Jax. They were discussing something about how the insurgents¡¯ equipment was in far better shape than would be expected from non-city dwellers. Jax also commented on how odd it was that they had a modern radio, and were confident enough to give it to a simple outpost. Yorkshire just snorted, saying something about how the untrained insurgents wouldn¡¯t know any better. He assumed they looted it from the train crash, and brought it up here first thing. Lieutenant Yorkshire then decided it was about time lunch break was had. Every squad divided into groups around backpack sized gas burners. Harry found the log of a fallen over tree, and sat on it. He then laid his rifle to rest against it and removed his backpack. Pulling his MRE and straw out of it, he set it aside and prepared to eat. They warmed up water before adding it their MREs. Harry, the lucky man he was, got potato cream soup with beef, the best MRE issued. The other MRE issued was just plain potato cream soup. He proceeded to extend a straw from his mask, and stuck it into the soup. He then sucked it up into his mouth, the one way pressure valve only letting the soup through. Harry then closed the straw so that he could screw his canteen onto it. He then drank deeply from the container, drinking at least half of it. Once he was done he clicked the mouth side of the straw closed, and removed it to be cleaned. This nifty piece of engineering was now dull and mundane, many years of training and drilling making just another fact of life. He then began to clean it while chatting with the rest of his squad, ¡°What¡¯d you guys think of this fabulous potato soup?¡± ¡°Same as always, to much powdered potato, not enough powdered milk or beef.It¡¯s better than nothing, but it is consistently shit¡± Said Thomas. Thompson spoke up in contradiction, ¡°Someday they¡¯ll get a mixture right¡± ¡°Yeah, once the 40,000 surplus from the last batch are finished.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure if we complain enough they¡¯ll change the recipe.¡± ¡°Yeah, and on that day I¡¯ll be promoted to supreme commander of the Nevexico combined forces.¡± ¡°Oh shut it.¡± ¡°Sure, once you su-¡±¡°Shut up, both of you. I want to enjoy a single meal without you fuckers getting in an argument.¡± Sergeant Watson grunted through his straw, his eyebrows raising behind his mask. While those two continued to stare daggers at each other Harry simply laughed, and shook his head at their ridiculousness. He could always count on Thomas and Thompson to keep things entertaining.Standing, Harry placed the now clean straw into his backpack, and rolled the soup bag up. The bag was thing neatly placed end up in the bag, next to the eight other meals. When Harry returned to Foba City the soup bag would be cleaned with first UV rays, then with a vigorous scrubbing and soaking in soap and water. The UV rays will kill any sickness, Gas or otherwise, the soap getting grime and remaining food washed out. When they were dry they would then be refilled with it¡¯s designated meal powder for later use.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Once his soup bag was taken care of he slung the backpack onto his shoulders. He stood, and grabbed his rifle from next to the log he was sitting on. The effort of standing made him groan softly. And because he feared there was a large amount of walking ahead of him. He stretched for about five minutes before Yorkshire gave them the orders to pack up and leave. The platoon continued in the same formation as before, slowly advancing in a way that would make it difficult to be flanked. Their wide sweeping nets of vision allowed them to spot anything in front of them, and had large amounts of firepower directly to the front. The disadvantages of this formation was if an enemy element did flank them there would be virtually no immediate firepower in their direction. Harry continued to advance through the untamed trees, thick flora filling his vision with green and brown. The once ever present mammal life had since dissipated, learning to be terrified of the Nevexican soldiers and their weapons. Due to the lack of mammal life the only sounds was the rustling of leaves, the nagging of bugs, and the crushing march of soldiers. Plants were crushed and limb snapped as they forced their way through the dense foliage. A path of damaged plants was left behind them, insects buzzing curiously onto the damaged plants, drinking leaking juices. The bugs varied greatly, the outrages levels of insects and all their species leaving greater room for the Gas to mutate them. Every species, subspecies, and any continental divides led to different mutations. Some gained is size, some gained venom, others lost size or lost appendages. Other would gain organs no insect should have, while some mutated into extinction from vital organs mutating out of existence. Harry, didn¡¯t care in the slightest. He simply wanted to get through the forest filled with too many living things. The closest thing to this in any of the cities were zoos, even then only containing a few unique animals. His mind had began to wonder, distracting itself from this unpleasant place. While he continued to follow the muscle memory the years of drilling had instilled he began to play thoughts and scenes from elsewhere behind the vision. The forest faded to background, while he though of home. He thought of what he would do next he got leave. Harry planned on taking a train to the small farming shelter of Turnop, the place he was born and raised. He hopped to see his parents, and play with his sister¡¯s son again. He also thought of the need to find a gift for the small child, wanting to win him over despite their distance. His could also talk to his brother in law about some of the new protocols and construction in the larger cities, the only other person in his family that had ever left Turnop for more than a month, thanks to dangerous train routes and expensive motels. These thoughts were interrupted with the sudden scream of a soldier emanated from the right flank. It was followed by more screaming, and the radio on his shoulder crackling to life. From what Harry could catch insects in a tall mound had burrowed into the chests of two soldiers, Harry couldn¡¯t catch their names, who were promptly exposed to the atmosphere. The rest of the squad vacated the area, but not before tossing a few grenades in that area. Hopefully the privates were killed before they could mutate. The panicked discussion continued for another few minutes, while Harry¡¯s squad rotated to be perpendicular to the rest of the platoon. This would cover at least one of their flanks while this issue was sorted out. Harry tried to ignore confused and stressed conversations being heard over the radio, staring into the forest. He continue to watch, and was mildly worried about more of¡­ whatever those things that attacked the soldiers crawling up his chest. Orders came through Watson that the platoon was going to push hard to the edge of the canyon, to get away from whatever those bugs were. Harry also inquired about who the unfortunate soldiers were. Watson replied that it was Private Caleb and Corporal Cale. Harry immediately felt a pang of regret, knowing that Caleb¡¯s wife and child relied on his paychecks to get by. Hopefully the widow¡¯s pension could help support them. Harry made remembered to donate some money if he saw them again. The lieutenant then called in a howitzer strike on the position of the Burrowers mound, Yorkshire had started calling the insects Burrowers in the process. The rounds were supposed to be napalm, to burn any of the Burrowers to a crips. Because of this Yorkshire ordered everybody to move double time away from the target zone. Once the platoon was far enough off he would give the all clear to the howitzer battery. ¡°So that¡¯s what we¡¯re calling those¡± Harry remarked to nobody in particular. Gerald, who apparently hadn¡¯t heard what the insects were responded with, ¡°Calling what that?¡± ¡°The insects that killed those privates. We¡¯re apparently calling them Burrowers.¡± ¡°Well who says we¡¯re calling them Burrowers? It¡¯s a rather unoriginal name.¡± ¡°Lieutenant called in the howitzer strike, justifying it by saying ¡®Burrowers nest¡¯. When the radio operator questioned it it claimed it was a newly discovered mutant and very deadly.¡± Harry explained, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke. The platoon continued the hasty advance through the woods, until they emerged into an abandoned and overgrown parking lot. The parking lot was surrounded on all sides by five story brick apartments, thoroughly overgrown with vines and trees. All the glass in the windows long gone. Not a single door was closed, and several were completely broken off. There were broken furniture littered around the apartments, ranging from chairs to wardrobes. Scraps of ratty, mildewed clothes flapped in the gentle breeze. The cars in the lot were in similar shape, with the majority have shredded tires, shattered windows, and oil leaks beneath them. In one car there were the withered skeletons of a family, all four of their skulls caved in. If one got close enough without their masks on they could smell the urine of hundreds of animals permeating the seats. The platoon waited in the center of the of the apartment complexes, and formed a loose circle in an area free of cars. They maintained silence, hoping that there were no hostile mutants hiding in the ruins of the city they had stumbled upon. Harry was facing the northern apartment, and intently watched the building. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The battery of howitzers behind sand bags and trucks were aiming at their targets. Two fire control officers double checked their calculations, not wanting to waste any of their precious napalm shells. Once they confirmed the math, they gave the order. All four guns opened up, orange fire erupting from their barrels. Minutes latter and miles away the shells exploded one after another over the forest. The napalm flowered out, drifting down into the leaves. As the flames burned away at the forest the Burrowers fled underground. The heat would broil the entire colony in entirety. The corpses of PFC Caleb and CPL Cale were consumed by the flame, soon only twisted, charred skeletons being left in the flames. Chapter 5 Harry watched the apartments to the west, hoping he would see nothing. As he did so the platoon command team studied the map to figure out what went wrong. So far they had concluded that they were somehow further east than they liked, or the city ruins snaked further east than the map had marked. The platoon command team identified landmarks to find their position. The lieutenant found a road map of the city from about 150 years ago when an exploration team was searching for food and ammunition. Harry¡¯s squad was ordered to exit the parking lot and find a street sign so they could find where they were. While they were doing that a second squad searched the apartments for anything useful. Harry picked his way across the parking lot, he and his squad carefully moving from car to car in groups. Harry and Gerald in one, Thompson, Thomas, and Theodore in the other. One team would provide cover fire while the other advanced. Given the lack of enemies at the time, it was just watching an empty parking lot. Three minutes later they reached the drive way. The drive way ran beside the northern building, emerging onto the street on the other side. Stopping before the driveway Harry looked for any signs indicating what road it led off. ¡°You guys see anything?¡± He asked. ¡°There is an old post here, but the sign is broken off. It might be on the ground near here.¡± Gerald replied. They searched the ground, pulling weeds off the craggily pavement. Harry found a rotting wooden toy, but no sign. Gerald found a rusty knife, and nothing else. Contacting Watson, Harry told them that there were not any identifiers inside the apartment ring. After a moment Watson¡¯s fire team made their way to his, after informing the lieutenant that they would have to exit the apartments to look for landmarks. On the street the squad fanned out. Scanning the street, they looked for any locations a street sign might be. More rusted cars littered the road. The occasional mutated animal scuttled across it, not wanting to be in the open for more than a moment. About forty meters to the north of the driveway was an intersection. Across the intersection lay the rusted remains of a fire engine, with the collapsed traffic lights draped over it. The ancient fire engine had no windshields or doors intact, and it¡¯s cab was crushed by a concrete facade that tumbled from an old building. The The building the fa?ade had fallen from was scorched and charred, a fire having rampaged through it. Leap frogging from cover to cover Harry¡¯s squad approached the interception. Closer inspection of the fire cab showed three firefighter skeletons in tattered bunker gear and oxygen masks. Their helmets were ripped apart, and one had chunks of it¡¯s skull missing. ¡°Shit, looks like these poor guys got absolutely eaten up.¡± Commented Thompson, glancing at the corpses. ¡°I wonder if any of their protective gear would still work.¡± ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t. It¡¯s been two hundred years in the elements. I¡¯m surprised they are even still intact.¡± Gerald replied, as he had been a firefighter before enlisting in the Nevexico Army. Walking to the rear of the engine he climbed a ladder to the top, looking for a street sign. Harry followed him up, while Watson¡¯s fire team searched the ground around the wrecked truck for a sign. Crawling over warped and rusted poles, Harry¡¯s vision swept the fire engine¡¯s roof. Ahead of him Gerald did the same, bending over and moving debris in his search. Harry saw a flash of green below rebar and concrete, and used his foot to slide it off. He reached down and picked it up, a almost illegible green sign reading ¡°Rocky Avenue¡±. Grabbing his radio he reported his reply. ¡°Sergeant I found a sign, it says one of these streets are Rocky Ave.¡± ¡°Alright, now we just need to figure out which street that is.¡± Watson replied, continuing to search the ground. Harry then heard the screech of metal collapsing, and straightened fast hw lost his balance and ended up on his buttocks. Clambering back to his feet he quickly turned in a circle, trying to find the source of the noise. While he did that the Sergeant spoke over the radio. ¡°Everybody check in. Check in now!¡± ¡°Thomas here.¡± ¡°Thompson breathing.¡± ¡°Harry here.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Silence followed when Gerald should have reported, filling Harry with worry. ¡°Gerald, report.¡± A hint of concern crept into Watson¡¯s voice. Harry was now carefully walking towards where he last saw his squad mate. He slowly maneuvered over concrete and steel, every spot carefully scanned for Gerald. Reaching the center of the engine¡¯s roof he found a gapping hole. Next to it lay Geralds radio. Harry reported it, and not waiting for a response shined a flashlight into the whole. It was a tank of water, it¡¯s contents stagnant and brimming with algae, and in it Gerald stood, patting himself down and looking around. ¡°Gerald, you good down there?¡± Harry called, trepidation in his voice. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. Lost my radio though. The strap is torn.¡± Gerald replied, not sounding too converted. ¡°It¡¯s up here, must¡¯ve caught on something as you fell.¡± ¡°Could you toss it to me?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± With that conversation over Harry tossed down the radio, it¡¯s fall terminating in the hand¡¯s of Gerald. Gerald then recounted the last few minutes to the Sergeant. Sergeant Watson was glad that Gerald wasn¡¯t injured, and reported what happened to LT Yorkshire. He also reported that one of the streets they were near was Rocky Avenue. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.While the LT made use of the information Harry and his squad searched for a way to get Gerald out of the water tank. Harry searched the top off the engine, hopeful a length of hose or of hose or rope somehow survived two centuries. Along the top of the engine he only found rubble and metal. Climbing down the ladder bolted onto the rear of the engine he began wrenching random compartments open. While he was hurriedly searching for rope or hose he came across various breaching gear, but nothing with the reach to pull out Gerald. ¡°Gerald, I¡¯m not finding anything, shouldn¡¯t they have rope or hose somewhere?¡± Harry asked. ¡°Yes, but given we don¡¯t use engines anymore, just the emergency boxes scattered around the cities I have no idea where it would be. Try checking next to the corpses.¡± Gerald replied calmly. Thompson checked in the general vicinity of the firemen¡¯s remains, but found nothing. They must have been killed before unloading their gear. Continuing to open random compartments Harry eventually found a section of polymer rope. Pulling a coil out that looked to be in good shape and able to support Gerald¡¯s body weight and kit Harry walked back to the ladder. He threw the rope over his shoulder and climbed up, Thomas close behind. Watson and Thompson kept watch below. Reaching the hole Harry tossed one end down, while he and Thomas anchored the other. Had it not been for the lack of any goo floatations to tie it down, it would have been securely tied to something.. Spreading their legs they braced themselves and waited for Gerald to climb up the rope. The metal groaned ominously beneath them, but held steady. Scrambling up to the metal gash Gerald began to pull himself up. As he did so the metal he was on began to bend and creak louder. Stress fractures began to show through the paint. Gerald immediately stopped moving, while Harry and Thomas slowly inched themselves to the other side of the hole. On the other side of the hole Gerald once again tried to pull him self onto the roof. Once again the metal began to fold and buckle under his weight. He quickly descended to rope and stood again in the stagnant water. Harry stood silently hold the rope with Thomas thinking all the while. After a moment of contemplation Gerald spoke up, ¡°Alright, I have an idea. Pull the rope out, and coil it up. Never know when we¡¯ll need it again. Once you¡¯ve done that carefully push a chunk of concrete into the tank. I¡¯ll use that to get up to the lip. While I do that you guys lay down and spread out, to pull me up.¡± ¡°Alright¡­ uh, why would this work better than the rope?¡± Thomas asked. ¡°This should spread out your weight and hopefully the metal won¡¯t buckle with you pulling me up.¡± Gerald replied patiently. ¡°It¡¯s what would be used to rescue people who fell through ice, so I think it should work here.¡± ¡°I see¡± Thomas responded slowly. Harry then nudged him and they began looking for a chunk of concrete to elevate Gerald. Slowly working their way from the hole towards the cap they searched. Above the rear section of the cab they found a suitable piece, but it was to large to life over the other debris. Harry radioed to Watson that the currently plan was to move rubble into the hole and pull Gerald out from there. Harry also explained that they would have to clear some debris from the rest of the engine to move it over. Watson told them to wait a moment and radioed it to the LT. After a few moments of conversation Watson called up to them. ¡°Lieutenant Yorkshire sent Johnson¡¯s squad to help clear debris.¡± Without wanting to wait Harry and Thomas began clearing rubble. They picked up and tossed off small pieces, flinging them like skipping stones. They had only moved maybe eight pieces of concrete before Johnson¡¯s squad arrived to help. The arrival of Johnson¡¯s squad significantly sped up the process of clearing a path. Jean and Alexander worked together to lift larger debris off the truck. Everybody else moved the smaller pieces. After a few minutes of working they cleared enough of a path that they could move the concrete chunk to the hole. With seven people pushing the chosen chunk slowly scraped towards the hole. Half way to the hole the metal underneath the concrete began to buckle. Harry and the six others back peddled, ran, or jumped off the engine. Harry shouted at Gerald to watch out, before diving of the engine. He landed on his feet unsteadily, waving his arms for balance. A moment after he landed the roof of the truck gave way, the concrete falling through. The resounding crash echoed throughout the city, bouncing from building to building. Harry scrambled back up the ladder at the rear, and looked at the now collapsed tank. The entire roof on the cab¡¯s side of the hole had caved in. Bounding over to the now gapping hole, harry shined his flashlight into the hole. Gerald was standing at one end of the tank, shaking the stagnant water off of him. Looking up he spotted Harry and waved. ¡°I survived, Harry. Just a bit wet.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good, now let¡¯s get you out of there.¡± ¡°Yeah, I think I can just climb over the edge of the truck from the concrete now.¡± Gerald gestured as a he spoke, indicating the left side of the engine. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll wait down here and help you over as needed.¡± Harry clambered back down the truck, and waited on the left side for Gerald to start clambering out. His hands grabbed the edge of the truck and slowly pulled himself up. With his arms fully extended he swung a leg over the lip, then the other. Harry watched Gerald slide down the engine and onto the ground. Gerald then slid his back down the side of the engine to a sitting position, exhausted from climbing the engine. Harry walked over and offered Gerald a friendly hand and spoke, ¡°Well Gerald, looks like you got your upper body workout for the day.¡± Gerald accepted the the hand and pulled himself up with it, before responding with, ¡°Yes. Yes,I suppose I have. Hopefully I won¡¯t have to do any more today.¡± The two squads gathered in the intersection then took a collective break. Everybody took out their straws and got a drink, the last half hour proving very exhausting in full combat kit. Refreshed, Harry put his straw and water away. Casting his gaze about the city, he observed how different it was from Foba City and Turnop. Unlike the wall to wall, carved from rock and steel tunnels there were wide open spaces, with parking for vehicles and plant-life. The fact that private transportation existed at all once was a foreign object to Harry, with cities maintaining all trolleys and elevators throughout Nevexico. Any actual cars or gasoline vehicles were owned by the military, to transport troops. The multistory visible part of buildings was new, with the stone hewn buildings of Foba only having the first floor visible, while the rest was stone. There also was not a lot of plant life just growing in public, most being relegated to state managed parks, farms, and private homes of the wealthy. Watson shook Harry from his thoughts when he spoke, ¡°Breaks over, it¡¯s time to move out.¡± The group of two squads began to make their way back to the platoon. The squads walked back, watching all directions for anything hostile. The way back proved uneventful, nothing other than a two tail, five legged, three eyed thing wondering across the road ahead. Gerald shot it, saying something about it may be dangerous. Harry didn¡¯t object. He didn¡¯t wan to end up like Caleb or Cale. The group turned returned to the apartment complex, joining the huddle of soldiers in the center of the parking lot. Gerald was directed to Freeman, the medic. Freeman did a cursory inspection, and cleared Gerald for further combat. Lieutenant Yorkshire began to speak once everybody was situated, ¡°Alright, judging from our map and a map in the apartments I led us too far east. We need to head north west to reach the canyon. We¡¯ll get moving right away.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The formation of soldiers tromped through the overgrown edge of the city as they made their way towards the canyon. Their spread out line merged into the scattered leaves and trees. To the north west was a gaping gash in the ground, with masked figures scuttling about in the pit of it. One such figure bent over, a glint of metal catching his eye. Chapter 6 Harry walked through the woods in his position of left flank of the formation. He held his rifle at the read and continually swept his vision from left to right. One step at a time. The forest continued on, almost an endless number of plants. The plants had swallowed multiple small structures and paths. Harry came across a small collapsed shed, with a metal toilet in it. The concrete pad of the shed was set parallel to a broken and cracked asphalt path. At another point a twisted coil of metal was laying on the ground, Harry couldn¡¯t fathom what its purpose was. Near the coiled metal were twisted tubes, with a chain and rubber scraps. Disregarding the strange metal contraptions Harry continued on. After many more steps he brought his foot down and heard a crunch. He had stepped into a rib cage, the skeleton appearing similar to a human. It was in relatively good condition, meaning it had only been inside a body a few short years ago. The jawbone was jutting fourth, with sharp spikes protruding from it. The eye sockets were smaller, and offset with one higher and the other lower. One of its arms was thicker than the other, a bludgeon shooting off the elbow. The fingers in that arm were sharper, and longer. The spine of the skeleton had spikes on every other vertebrae, jutting into the dirt. The legs of it were shattered, with a small amount of healing, it had clearly been left to die where it was injured. Leaning down, Harry pulled a rib off the skeleton with a snap, and tucked it into his backpack. It was Harry¡¯s first time seeing a mutated human up close, dead or alive. Harry figured taking a souvenir from it wouldn¡¯t hurt. He sped his step up for a moment to catch up with the line. Back in his place he returned to the searching the trees with his eyes. The platoon continued to advance onwards. Harry only met one mutant, a small avian creature with a wicked beak. The beak looked sharp, and was hooked at the end. It never strayed close to Harry, much to his relief. As the avian buzzed into the tree tops Harry returned his attention to sweeping the forest. Harry had been walking for nearly half an hour when his radio crackled to life. The soldiers talking on the radio had found the canyon edge. The platoon had been called to gather near the edge of the canyon. Harry marched over, reaching it in about five minutes with the rest of his squad. The canyon stretched out in front of Harry. There were more variants of stone and rock lining the walls than Harry could identify. He could maybe see basalt, but everything else was foreign. Several scraggly trees dotted the walls, clutching to boulders and soil. The canyon also made a sharp turn several miles away, making it difficult to see the entire thing. Along the bottom of the canyon a sharp, fast river ran, the banks being flat drop offs. There was a dirt track along the floor of the canyon, vehicles having cut through it. Here and there a section of road was shored up with logs or stones. To the south of Harry¡¯s position was a narrow path down the canyon, not able to let vehicles down. As soon as everybody was present Lieutenant Yorkshire told the platoon the situation, ¡°Alright, looking at the map the train bridge was three miles north of our position. The road bellow the canyon allowed vehicle access to help build the bridge. The closest vehicle path down the canyon is all the way down at the south end, so that¡¯s not viable. Sergeant Watson¡¯s and Sergeant Ronald¡¯s squads will be approaching the position in the canyon base, while Johnson¡¯s squad and I will be staying up here to provide cover fire and keep contact with command.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± Chorused back to him. Harry joined the file heading down the path. The path had several switchbacks on the way down, with steep stone walls on either side of them. The descent to the bottom of the canyon took forty five minutes, with the two squads emerging onto the banks of the river. The banks of the river were about wide enough for a truck to dive along. The river in this section was wide and lazy, meandering down towards the south. When Harry reached the canyon floor he gazed out at the flowing river, having never seen so much moving water in one place. As he gazed at the water a glint of light caught his eye. Moving closer, he leaned over the shallow river and looked for the source of the glint. After a moment of looking he realized it was just the sunlight sparkling off the river top. Backpedaling Harry tore his gaze from the river and returned to the rest of the formation. Rejoining the file Harry continued down the embankment. As Harry walked he cast his gaze about, watching for any signs of danger. While he found no threats, he did find some of the natural wonder of the canyon. As he walked he could see the canyon walls reaching skyward around him. The layers of stone and rock were visible to his eye, giving him a history of the landscape. The different varieties of rocks told him of how the land was created, and the different ages that passed by. The plant life also flourished, trees scrambling up the sides of the canyon. Grass sprouted in gravelly soil between the everlasting stone. Tumbleweed hung onto jutting stone and blew through the breeze. Avians fluttered about the air, and land dwellers scurried across the boulders. The river had fish, swimming through the water. The fish were all vibrant colors and exotic shapes, with very few being the same. The avians fluttering about were small and harmless, going from flower to flower and eating insects. The land dwellers leaping from rock to rock had razor horns, pointing directly forward, but stayed well clear of the soldiers, for now.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Harry¡¯s idyllic observations of the canyon were interrupted when Sergeant Johnson¡¯s voice burst through his radio, ¡°This is over watch. We¡¯ve spotted a truck leading fifteen insurgents with supplies towards your position. They should reach your position in five minutes.¡± As soon as the report came through the radio the sergeants were barking orders. Watson ordered Harry¡¯s fire squad across the river. From here Harry took control. He ordered Gerald to get behind various piles of rocks. Harry himself took position behind a mound of dirt on top of which a scraggly tree sat. Ronald sent his second fireteam across the river as well. They scrambled to pile loose stones and make a simple barricade. On the main path a remote detonated explosive was placed on a shallow hole, and covered with dirt. The soldier with the detonator hid down the road behind a pillar of rock. The rest of the soldiers on the path scrambled farther down the road, finding boulders to conceal themselves behind. They were told the radio would buzz twice, when they are to open fire. Not thirty seconds after the last soldier concealed himself could they hear a truck driving down the path. The truck moved slowly, it¡¯s thrumming moving closer. Over the engine of the truck they could barely hear the sound of foot steps, crunching into the soil behind the truck. After two minutes of the truck idling down the path, the radio buzzed twice. Harry popped up, and quickly spotted the insurgents. There were two in the cab of the truck, with five on the flatbed with the stolen supplies. The ten insurgents were spread out behind the truck, casually walking and their weapons hanging from their hands. Harry lined his iron sights up with an insurgent behind the truck. He pulled the trigger, and felt a burst leave the muzzle and speed towards the enemy soldier. The first of the bullets hit the insurgent in the arm, the second and third shredding his rifle. Harry ducked back down, leaving only his head exposed. The insurgent he wounded rushed to the side of the truck, crouching behind it while holding the wounded arm. He left his rifle abandoned on the road. Two other insurgents were stuck by lead as well. One lay unmoving in the river, while the other was left in the road, pulling himself towards cover. The insurgents on the flatbed were jumping behind the truck or kneeling and firing wildly at Harry¡¯s position. So far none of the bullets had landed anywhere near Harry, but the two firing at him were walking the fire closer. The truck continued to idle forward, going faster than before. The Nevexicans further down the road continued to remain hidden. The mine hidden beneath dirt was fifteen feet further down the road, and the Nevexicans didn¡¯t want to scare them away from the mine. The Nevexicans hiding behind the barricade popped back up, and fired at the insurgents not behind the truck. One of the insurgents was struck in the legs, and dropped to the ground screaming. Another had machine gun fire walked up her chest, through her neck, and across her head. She fell down and didn¡¯t even twitch. The other two insurgents still not behind cover turned and ran. They were both shot through their backs. One fell on his face, his fragile mask shattering. The other folded in half, and crumpled backwards. With half of the insurgents already wounded, the truck driver began to panic. He yelled at the insurgents taking cover behind his truck to hop on, and that he was going to gun it. The four insurgents taking cover behind boulders heard this, and began to sprint towards the truck, desperate for a way out. Harry and Gerald both fired at them. Harry¡¯s first two bursts hit nothing, his third a bullet hit the ankle of one, and severed his tendons. He slowed to a hobble, before being struck through the lenses of his mask, and falling to the ground. Gerald gunned down two other insurgents, the fourth one jumping onto the truck bed. The rest of the insurgents then clambered on, firing at anything moving across the river. Harry and Gerald both ducked down. The three behind the barricade also began to duck down, but one was too slow. Five rounds of 7.62 crashed into his skull, four bursting out the other side with a visceral trail of pink behind them. The top off his skull fell inwards, resting on his brain momentarily, before he went limp and fell to the side. Harry hopped he could forget that image, someday. Hopefully someday soon. As Harry watched his comrade fifteen feet down die, the truck drove over the mine. And it detonated, sending shrapnel and explosives tearing through the vehicle. Secondary explosions followed a moment later, when the gasoline ignited. The boxes of supplies also exploded, some carrying ammunition. The fireball engulfed all the insurgents, lighting their clothes on fire, before pushing away all the oxygen and extinguishing them. The shrapnel ripped limb and organ away from the remaining insurgents, splattering them across the canyon walls and floor. Smaller pieces of shrapnel hit the ground around the vehicle, sending little puffs of dirt into the air. After hearing the explosion Harry slowly tore his gaze away from the dead comrade, and brought his gaze to the destroyed truck. He quickly turned away, off put by the charred remains scattered about. The rest of the group gradually popped up front their cover, weapons pointing at the wreckage of the truck. They quickly ducked back down, when more ammunition began to cook off, bullets flying in all directions at random intervals. One soldiers was struck in the breast plate, and fell on his but back behind cover. Another soldier, Freeman, Harry presumed, rushed over to the soldier and began to check him out. The rest of the platoon was seemingly woken back up by this event began speaking over the radio again. ¡°Holy shit, that was energetic¡± ¡°Did you see the way the-¡± ¡°Man, that couldn¡¯t have gone better.¡± ¡°Wish I coulda-¡± ¡°Damn, we could have used the ammo¡± ¡°Fuck, Ronald¡¯s squad lost another, it was Jax this time¡± The radio went silent, after this. Following a moment of silence, the RTO spoke over the radio, ¡°I have reported it to command, leave him there and we can get him on the way back.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The insurgents further down the canyon looked up, gunfire echoing from down the canyon. They began to walk towards the source of the gunfire, until they heard the explosion. After that, they began to move rocks into barricades on the roads, and prepare hiding spots around the train. The insurgent that picked up the metal case tucked it deeper into his jacket, not wanting to loose his potential spoils. Chapter 7 The platoon continued with the after engagement checks. Everybody counted off their remaining ammunition, reported injuries and checked for enemies. Sergeant Watson order Harry and Gerald to checked the insurgents, making sure they were dead or incapacitated. They moved from one body to another, checking pulses, claiming filters, taking ammo and removing weapons. One insurgent they came across was still alive and convulsing. His mask was shattered, the filter broken and lenses cracked. The insurgent was unconscious, and Harry couldn¡¯t determine if it was from the wound, or trying to hold his breath. Harry reported that an insurgent had a non-functioning mask, and was breathing the unfiltered air, particles of the Gas surely with it. The mutation had not yet started, the Gas not concentrated enough to immediately contaminate, but Harry was to kill him regardless. Removing his knife from his waistband Harry punctured the throat at the jugular vein, and moved on, leaving the insurgent to bleed out. The rest of the insurgents were dead, their weapons and ammunition collected and piled to one side. The lieutenant spent a moment deliberating what to do, before asking if any grenades or flammable materials were found on the insurgents. Other than their clothes, nothing was easily flammable. Lt. Yorkshire, impatient and out of idea, ordered all the weapons and incompatible ammunition be thrown in the river, to deny any wandering people them. Once the weapons issue was taken care off, the platoon was off. Overwatch was moving ahead, cautiously poking their head over the canyon walls and looking for insurgents. The two squads on the canyon floor continued to meander along the road, carefully checking every nook and cranny for a hiding insurgent. The mutated wildlife was nowhere to be seen, scared away by the gunfire and explosions. Harry was at the rear of the advance, turning and casting suspicious glares behind him every fifteen steps. He was determined to not be the reason any more soldiers died. Every time he searched the trees, rocks and river with equally determined stares, daring someone to try and sneak behind them. Every time he saw nothing. Despite his conviction, Harry let his mind wander again. The weight of Dericks death felt compounded by seeing how Jax was splattered against the canyon wall. Even if he hadn¡¯t seen Dericks remains, the image of Jax and the charred insurgents made him imagine. And he wished he would never see that happen to a fellow Nevixican again. This time, Harry snapped himself out of his musings. Harry needed to stop falling into his own world during missions, only to be pulled out by external forces. If he kept this up, more of his comrades may die. So he returned to searching behind the platoon with full conviction. After nearly fifteen minutes of marching, the overwatch squad spotted the collapsed bridge. The platoon slowed, everybody checking their weapons and getting a drink of water. They spread out, inching forward slowly. A bend in the canyon was up ahead, with the crash site being a straight hundred meters from there. The eight soldiers down bellow pressed up against the canyon walls, some climbing up the steep incline slightly. They continued to press forward, while overwatch moved up above into position to fire at the insurgents. The insurgents were dotted about, makeshift cover built from train wreckage and loose rocks. They milled about, weaving in between wrecked cars and collapsed beams. Some disappeared into sideways passenger cars, others climbing up bridge support beams. Radios crackled to life for a moment, Yorkshires voice screeching over the radio waves, ¡°Overwatch is going to suppress the insurgents, and you¡¯ll get around the corner and close distance. There is barely any cover, so sprint. We¡¯ll start firing selectively once you get closer.¡± After the lieutenant told the Nevixicans on the canyon floor what they were doing, the soldiers prepared to sprint. Most of them slung off their backpacks, leaving the rations, extra water, shovels, extra ammo, and anything else in them behind. They made sure they had as many magazines on their plate carrier as they could, attached extra filters to their belt, and then began stretching. Harry was nervous. He could feel it in his stomach. It made him jittery, and he couldn¡¯t stop moving. He stretched his calves, thighs, and heels. He swung his arms in anticipation. Checked and rechecked his weapons. Anything to keep his mind off the blind charge he was about to partake in. He was sure there was a better way, but the lieutenant had given the orders. As Harry¡¯s nervousness swelled, the overwatch squad began to suppress the insurgents. Gunfire could be heard around the bend, both the familiar bark of M16a7s, M240 being met with a cacophony of other weapons, ranging from smaller 9mm to 5.56 and 7.62. Following a minute of gunfire, the lieutenant gave the orders to charge. As the eight Nevixicans rounded the corner, the saw the insurgent positions for themselves. Several insurgents were already dead and wounded, with the rest taking cover or shooting at overwatch. Harry¡¯s mind barely registered this, simply starting a dead sprint down the open road. He crossed the canyon floor in just under six seconds, but didn¡¯t stop. He kept sprinting, not slowing until his shoulder hit the side of a train car. The jarring impact gave Harry another shot of adrenaline, preventing him from falling tired. He cast his gaze about, and took in the battlefield. Several insurgents were dead or wounded, but not nearly enough. Almost a dozen were still sprinkled about the defenses, firing at the Nevixican soldiers. Looking up, he saw that the overwatch squad had two casualties, with the others providing some aide. Casting his gaze back down to the ground, he spotted a Nevixican laying motionless on the road. The insurgents were firing at the other soldiers he had charged with, who were taking cover behind the makeshift barriers. Harry had a clear line of fire on two of the insurgents, so he raised his rifle. He thumbed the fire selection to automatic, and line one of the insurgents up in his iron sights. He then depressed the trigger. The first insurgent was hit in the filter, neck, and shoulder. He fell to the ground. The second insurgent attempted to duck down, but Harry had anticipated that. He had slid his fire towards the insurgent at a downward angle, and the 7.62 catching the insurgent¡¯s neck, drilling through his rifle stock, and hitting the insurgent¡¯s ribs. After Harry killed the two insurgents he could, he began moving through the crash site. He looked cautiously looked for vantage points to get a shot. Harry jogged up to a train car, rolled on it¡¯s side and the side crumpled. Harry started to climb it, letting his rifle hang from his shoulders. He found footholds on the door frame, and began to pull himself up. Once he was on top of the train car he began to pull his rifle of his shoulders. Then, he noticed an insurgent was on the car with him. And the insurgent had noticed him as well. The insurgent began to raise his rifle, and Harry dropped his. He sprinted at the insurgent, closing the distance in an instant. The rifle was shoved off the edge of the car, Harry twisting the insurgent¡¯s arms. He let go of one arm, and reached for the insurgent¡¯s filter. His movement was interrupted by the insurgent rolling over, taking Harry¡¯s arm with him. With his arm now pinned beneath his opponent, Harry grabbed the back of his head. And smashed it as hard as he could into train car. The insurgent didn¡¯t let go. In fact, the insurgent began fighting harder, kicking and flailing. And then the insurgent turned over.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. With his arm now free, Harry yanked it back, one hand restraining the insurgent, by wrapping tightly around his neck, and covering the filter on his mask with his fore arm. The other hand snaked through the crotch, and wove under his leg. HE used it to begin twisting up his body, trying to crush the insurgent¡¯s knee to his face. The insurgent was beginning to panic, and twisted left and right, while kicking his legs frantically. He threw one fist into Harry¡¯s stomach, the other pressing against one of Harry¡¯s filter¡¯s. The punch was mostly absorbed by Harry¡¯s plate carrier, with the insurgent¡¯s buckles crumbling against it. Harry swung his head around, shaking of the insurgent¡¯s hand. In the process the insurgent wiggled his head free of Harry¡¯s grip. The insurgent clambered to his feet, trying to force Harry away form him. Harry refused to let go, instead reaching his open arm around the waist, gripping the one in his crotch. Harry then lifted up, using his hips to bump the insurgent into the air. He brought the insurgent down face first, with himself landing on his shoulder. Harry circled to on top of the insurgent. He rested one knee in the insurgent¡¯s stomach, the other on the train car. One hand held the insurgent¡¯s gas mask still, Harry¡¯s right reaching for his sidearm. The insurgent tried to sit up, arms pulling and groping Harry. One shove managed to move Harry¡¯s knee enough to that it rolled of. Harry now was straddling the insurgent. Harry stopped reaching for his pistol, instead trying to regain control of the insurgent. The insurgent had other plans and sat straight up, head butting Harry. Harry staggered up, rubbing his forehead for a moment. He then undid the clasp on his sidearm and drew it. He fired three rounds, two hitting the insurgent¡¯s stomach, one hitting his hand. Harry began to back up, readjusting his aim as he did so. The insurgent was staggering towards Harry, one arm held out, while the wounded one clutched his stomach. Harry put another two rounds into the insurgent¡¯s head then, one bouncing through a finger on the way in. The insurgent fell to the ground, dead. Harry paused for a moment, his pistol still pointing at the place where the insurgent was. He then stowed the weapon and refastened the holster. Harry stumbled back to where he dropped his rifle, and picked it up. Harry laid down, crawling to the lip of the sideways train car. He observed the battlefield for a moment, taking in everything he saw. The overwatch group had returned to firing at any exposed insurgents. The six soldiers on the ground had been fighting to the caboose of the train, leaving a trail of dead and wounded insurgents. The few insurgents Harry spotted were firing at the overwatch team, seemingly not having noticed Harry or the others. Harry set himself in a careful firing position, and thumbed the rifle to single-fire. He then found an insurgent with cover facing the overwatch team, popping up and firing errant bursts every few seconds. Harry watched him, lining up a shot with his chest. The insurgent popped up, and was cut down by overwatch.Three rounds through the chest, one bouncing off a metal girder and flying into the sunset. Harry found a new target, a poorly armed and masked insurgent, wearing an ancient PSG mask. Harry brought his sights over the chest of his enemy, waiting for a moment before firing. The shot went wide, hitting the ruined support pillar to the left of the insurgent, and sending him into a panic. The thought of somebody behind him was to much to bear. The PSG wearing opponent ran, tripping over a rock, and then dropping his weapon. He then kept running. Harry again began searching for somebody else to shoot at, wanting to help relieve the hot lead flying towards overwatch. He searched for something he could do to help, but couldn¡¯t find anything. Harry quickly climbed down the train car, his feet splashing into the river. Spending a second thinking, Harry reached for his radio. ¡°Sergeant, this is Harry, where are you guys?¡± ¡°We¡¯re searching the train. Starting at the caboose, working our way down. Where are you?¡± Harry paused, looking around for some kind of identifier. He remembered that the train cars should have someway to distinguish them from the others, and walked to one end. The door was hanging ajar. The area around the door was bare, nothing identifiable on the outside. Harry stepped into the sideways interior of the car and looked for an identifier. ¡°Harry, are you there? Where are you?¡± Watson¡¯s voice crackled across the radio again. ¡°Yes, I am still here. I¡¯m looking for something to identify the car.¡± ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, what car?¡± Watson¡¯s irritation was tangible, even over the radio. ¡°The train car I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just say you were in a train car? You know what, never mind. Stay put and search the train car. We¡¯ll make our way to you.¡± Harry obeyed his orders, and began to sift through the wreckage. Chunks of glass were scattered on the ground, as well as various personal belongings. Young children¡¯s toys, helicopters, trains, farm animals, and more. A book, torn and abandoned. Cups, their straws still in them. Customized filters, with slogans and art painted on. A suitcase, filled with what looked suspiciously like counterfeit money. Harry looked though all of it, hoping the messenger had dropped it among their personal belongings in her haste. Harry had no such luck. His climbing over and under seats was in vain, the metal case holding the platoon¡¯s objective was not inside his train car. While Harry was searching for the objective, the gunfire did a decrescendo into silence. Over his radio, reports were heard. The three confirmed casualties, two fatal, one severely wounded. The two dead were Sergeant Ronald and Corporal Jean. Private Gordon was critically wounded, but stable, thanks to the actions of specialist Freeman. The number of casualties that the lower squads had taken led to Lieutenant Yorkshire deciding to reorganize them into a single squad. The locations of squad members. Harry reported the shots he fired, as well as the insurgents he killed. He also reported the insurgent he saw run off into the canyon. The squad above the canyon walls said they would watch for them. Once the reports were finished, Harry returned to his search. While shifting the debris in search of the information he had found a bronze number nine buried beneath glass and other trash. When he reported to Sergeant Watson next, he told Watson which train car it was Harry had cleared. Harry was then assigned to searching insurgent bodies, and claiming their weapons. Harry begrudgingly set to this task, deciding to work radially from his position. The insurgent that he grappled with. Harry searched the body, pulling open the jacket, checking the pockets, removing weapons and ammo. HE moved on, repeating the same with any body he came across. Find corpse, take weapon, search clothes, vests if they had one, take anything else. He continued with this monotony for almost an hour, with the rest of the platoon searching every inch of ground for the message. Harry continued to search the corpses. Open, pull, remove, pat, move on. One insurgent had been carrying a faded photograph, with a picture of his family. Another carried an excessive amount of elbow cream. The insurgent he was currently searching seemed to have a hobby of collecting games, he had a large number of USB sticks, most labeled with tape. Harry immediately grabbed all the USBs, and tucked them into various pouches on his belt. Harry then excitedly spoke into his radio, ¡°Shit guys, I might have found it. An insurgent here has about twelve USB sticks.¡± Straightening up, Harry stretched his back for a minute, then he jogged about the crash site, looking for the rest of the squad. He dodged around metal shards, bounced over rocks and splashed through the river. He came across Sergeant Watson and the rest of the squad in a police line, scouring the ground. ¡°Sergeant, here are all the USBs I found on the insurgent.¡± Turning, Watson began to speak, ¡°Alright, give me them. When we link back up with overwatch we¡¯ll turn these over to the lieutenant.¡± With the USBs turned over to the Sergeant, the squad began to make their way to where they left their bags. The walk back was jovial initially, but was sobered when the walked past Sergeant Ronald¡¯s grave, marked with a stone and his helmet. Watson looked at the grave for a moment, before he suddenly spoke, ¡°Oh Harry, I just remembered- because we had Jaxson and Jack folded into our squad, Jack is now on your fire team.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª The two squads of Nevixicans trekked back to the switch backs. Their walk back was much quicker, with far less care taken. In the following minutes joviality returned to the discussions and a bounce entered their step. They would soon be home, able to relax again. At Foba city three helicopters lifted off, tracing their steps back to the landing zone. The battery of howitzers recalibrated the trajectory of fire, preparing to destroy any supplies left on the trains. Chapter 8 Harry was tired of walking. It was just about everything he had done today. Somehow, despite him being air assault he had managed to do more walking than the average Nevixican soldier. Regardless, he figured he was at least halfway done with today''s walking. Soon he could just ride the uncomfortable metal benches in the helicopter back home. And of course, Harry was walking more. They were nearing the ambush site, the truck still burning dimly. As they passed, they stripped the firing pins and receivers from the discarded weapons, stowing them in their back backs. Ammunition in magazines were stripped from their weapons and used to replenish the almost hollow magazines the soldiers now carried. The springs in any magazines not collected were ripped out and crushed. Gas pistons were cut through, and stocks were torn apart. Harry brought his full weight down on several barrels, bending them out of shape. Any attachments were taken and pocketed, individual soldiers claiming for their own. Harry looted an angled grip he found, and a laser he was reaching for was claimed by Watson. With the additional weapon parts stored safely in their bags the squad made their way along the path up the cliff. Trekking to the top of the cliff was uneventful yet tiring. By this point even the untamed trees and bushes had lost their interest. Not even the buzzing insects gained more than a tired glance. Tired heads slumped lower as the squad climbed higher. Part way up the cliff a group of goats attempted to charge Harry and Jaxon. The platoon scrambled to one side of the switch backs, firing into a hoard of fifteen, twenty goats. Shell casing sizzled and clattered onto rocks. Goat corpses tumbled down the cliff side, bouncing off boulders and gorging each other. Two minutes after the goat¡¯s ill fated charge began, they were all rapidly cooling corpses at the bottom of the canyon. Watson¡¯s squad continued up the cliff side rapidly, wary of any more animals attacking them. The pace was rapid and fought, wearing them out further. Harry¡¯s spine ached, the weight of his equipment pulling it down. He groaned as he reached the top, both in relief and pain. Once on the top of the cliff the two squads reunited, spending a few minutes resting after the tiring trek up and along the canyon. In this break Harry got to know his new squad members better, conversing with them about where they lived and what they did before enlisting. Jack had spent time as a cook, working in a small restaurant in the capitol before he enlisted. Jaxon had been a security guard in Statler, working for a law firm. He also had a wife, who was expecting a child. Jaxon spent several minutes gushing about how he wanted to spend time with the kid, and what he¡¯d do if they were a boy or girl. The main body of the platoon then began the walk back to the insurgent outpost. They skirted the overgrown city, and carefully marched across the burned section of forest. It was eerie, how the last time the walked through here it was lush and full of life, and was now charred black, burned to a crisp. Along some edges napalm still burned, the harsh red glow bathing the ground around them. The red glow gave a hellish atmosphere to those area, casting strange shadows and twisting the shapes of plants. Amongst its charred husk they found burned remains of Cale and Caleb. Their ammunition had cooked off, drilling holes through wood and bone alike. The eyes had boiled and popped, their flesh was blackened ash. Bones were cracked and eaten. Grey uniforms melted over what was left of them, giving an elongated and liquid look to the corpses. The two squads paused and spent a moment in respectful silence at this sight. After that they continued towards the insurgent outpost. Walking through the forest was faster this time, with exhausted soldiers letting their guard drop. Harry¡¯s mind drifted as he marched along, the dregs of his enthusiasm draining away. He thought of his barracks, of his bed sheets and his mattress. He thought of breathing filtered air without the heavy plastic and metal mask on. Nobody talked, the only sounds being the crunching of ash under foot. The smell of burned wood and melted flesh hung in the air. The smoke was hanging so heavily that even through their masks they smelled it. Reaching the edge of the burned clearing, they re-entered the trees. They continued to trek towards the outpost. Step, step, step. All harry could think of was one foot in front of the other. Step, step, step. The plodding along continued. Just one step, then the other. ¡°Just one more step¡± Harry would think after very step. And every time, he would step forward again. The platoon slowly reached the outpost, finding Berisho¡¯s squad sitting in various tables, with two pointing weapons at the insurgents. The ones at the table had cards out, with two hands face down. They paused, their postures being that of deer in the headlights. The hands of several were wide and hovering just above the table, shaking slightly. All of their masked heads were turned towards Lieutenant Yorkshire, slightly raised. Harry was for a moment full of rage, that while he and the other squads were out fighting and dying this squad merely played cards. In a mere second the rage ebbed away, Harry to exhausted to maintain it for long. He wondered if they even had their radios on, or if they simply ignored the cries and panic. After a moment of silence, the Lieutenant began to speak, ¡°Alright, Berisho, get you soldiers together and hand the prisoners to Watson¡¯s squad. They will be hitching a ride in their helicopter.¡± With the prisoners now in Watson¡¯s care, Harry took the place of Berisho¡¯s soldiers, pointing his rifle at the bound insurgent¡¯s heads. Berisho¡¯s squad gathered their cards and put them away. And so, the platoon set off for the pickup zone. And again, Harry had to walk. But this time, with his rifle raised and watching a prisoner¡¯s every move. Harry dragged his prisoner to his feet by the arm. The insurgent lost his balance immediately, forcing Harry to grab him by his neck and pull the other direction. The insurgent jerked back his head snapping into Harry¡¯s. At the same time, the insurgent stepped on Harry¡¯s foot. ¡°Ah, fucking damn it.¡± ¡°Ope, sorry.¡± ¡°Mhm, just don¡¯t fall over again¡± Harry responded, absentmindedly, before realizing he was talking to an insurgent. ¡°I just politely responded to an insurgent,¡± Harry thought, mildly baffled on how the insurgent¡¯s politeness brought out his own. Shaking it off, Harry continued to march the insurgent towards their extraction site. Once the platoon reached the desert they began walking in a single file line, with the two prisoners plus escorts in the front. Up the hill, across it¡¯s crest, back down in. Across the flat plains, avoiding clumps of soil recently moved. Around the edge of the hole Derrick was pulled into, and dive to the ground when a blood eagle flew overhead. Quietly, ever so softly, Harry whispered into their ears,¡°If either of you try to run, if the blood eagles or scorpibigs don¡¯t get you, my bullets will.¡± Harry continued to hold onto the prisoners, while the rest of the platoon shot at the Blood Eagle. Bursts of fire and the sound of rushing air was all Harry could hear, his eyes and arms firmly planted on both the prisoners. Even when droplets of puss and blood splattered them, Harry didn¡¯t move or loosen his grip, though the insurgents squirmed. After several minutes of this, the gunfire stopped, followed moments later by the muffled thud of something hitting the ground a distance away. Harry slowly pushed himself up and off the prisoner insurgents, pressing firmly against their backs as he did so. Once standing, he pulled both of them up off the ground by their arms, and handed one to Jaxon behind him. He then took his rifle back into his arms, and continued to point it at the insurgent. ¡°Walk, I¡¯ll tell you when to stop.¡± And the insurgent began walking. They continued to walk across the now scorching desert, sun beating into the sand. When the sweat had all but been exhausted from Harry, the platoon paused for a water break. Harry removed his straw from his bag and drank deeply, before pulling an extra canteen out and tapping the insurgent on the back with it.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Here¡¯s a canteen. Drink up, I wouldn¡¯t want you dying on us.¡± ¡°Thank you¡± The insurgent replied, grabbing the water with some difficulty. He undid the straps on his mask, and pulled it off. Harry held it with one hand, while the insurgent quickly raised the canteen to his mouth and began drinking deeply. Once he finished, he lowered it. Harry took the canteen, and passed the gas mask back to the prisoner. ¡°When we get to your new home you¡¯ll have to take antibiotics, or uh, bacteriophages, to kill any exposure you might have had. It isn¡¯t enough to mutate you, yet, but better safe than sorry.¡± Harry explained this while the prisoner reattached the mask to his face. Once secured firmly on his face, Harry turned him around and continued to march him towards the extract zone. Once the platoon arrived, They formed a circle around the landing area, facing outwards while waiting for the helicopters to arrive. Harry and Jaxon stood watching the insurgents, facing the center. They stood and waited. And waited, and waited. They waited for too long, out in the burning sun. The approach of the helicopters was a slow and creeping thing. First the echoing sound of blades beating the air sped over the horizon. Small metal shapes flying in a V came into view, shimmering in the afternoon heat. Next, the sound crescendoed as they grew in size, and the center one began to drift closer to the ground. Touching the ground, the helicopter sat heavily on it¡¯s wheels, bouncing back in forth as it kicked up dust and sand, scattering it over the landing zone. Once the helicopter came to solid landing, Harry and Jaxon pointed the insurgents into the Blackhawk. Once they were inside, Jaxon and Harry slung their rifles over their shoulders, and drew their pistols. Sitting one seat away from their respective prisoners, pistols were aimed carefully at their heads. Once they were sitting securely, Watson, Thomas, Thompson, Gerald, and Jack all peeled away from the circle, making a low circle around and into the helicopter. They climbed in, one by one, clambering into their seats. Gerald was the last one in, sliding the door shut before buckling into his seat. Before the helicopter took off, Harry reached over to buckled in his prisoner. He fumbled for a moment, using one hand pulling the far side buckle over, then the other. With his pistol still trained on his prisoner, he clicked the pieces together, then cinched it tight to his waist. Harry then leaned across the aisle, stringing it together like the other prisoner¡¯s buckle. But before he could click them together, the insurgent bucked it¡¯s hips, and flopped onto the metal plating of the helicopter. ¡°Up, get up¡± Hissed Jaxon, grabbing the insurgent roughly by it¡¯s neck, forcing it to stand. Shoving the prisoner back into his seat, Jaxon began to buckle his seat, lowering his pistol as he did so. When his pistol neared the insurgent¡¯s hands, a sudden flash of movement drew Harry¡¯s vision. As he turned his head, two gunshots rung out. One came from Watson¡¯s now smoking pistol. Harry couldn¡¯t see the source of the other. Jaxon fell backwards slowly, one hand hindering his decent. The other clutched at his throat, blood surging out around his tightly gripped gloved fingers. His prisoner was slumped sideways, blood trickling down the side of it¡¯s head. Radios crackled to life, barking that a soldier was wounded and they would have to take off immediately. Thomas rushed across the helicopter, climbing up and over other soldiers with a first aid kit gripped tightly in hand. Harry sat still in his seat, pistol still pointed at his prisoner, and watch Thomas administer first aid. Another soldier, Jack, help restrain Jaxon¡¯s arms and thrashing legs. White gauze pads were pressured against the wound, and wrapped tightly against his throat. Flowing quickly, the blood reddened the starch white pads, and Thomas applied a second in the same fashion. Then a third, and a fourth. The blood flow slowed and came to a stop after the fifth pad was stacked on top and tightly wrapped. Thomas then stripped the cracked plate carrier off of Jaxon, checking for a pulse. While this happened, Watson began speaking to the pilots. ¡°What can you do to cut time off the return trip?¡± Watson yelled into the microphone, to be heard over the sound of the engines. ¡°My co-pilot and I are booking it at max speed, but it will still be a half hour. We have to go around the radiation fields.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the harm if we go over them?¡± ¡°Might take a few months off our lifespan or increase our cancer risk.¡± ¡°Well, I think that¡¯s worth it, to get Jaxon the aid he needs¡± With that, the helicopter continued on, the pilots speaking with command about the change in flight path. They also told the tower to have medical aid on standby, and that there was a critically wounded soldier onboard. Harry idly listened to all this, while continuing to aim at his prisoner. The prisoner in question had since fallen asleep, his head nodding down onto his chest. When the helicopter neared the irradiated zone, the pilot informed them. Harry was a tidbit surprised, with all the talk about how bad the place was, he figured it would be glowing green with radiation and have dead animals everywhere. Instead, there was only significantly fewer plants, and the occasional mummified animal, baked dry under the desert sun. The helicopter continued to speed across the zone, going faster than almost any Harry had ever ridden in. Five minutes into the zone, Harry spotted a grey cooling tower, a sign of an old nuclear plant. It was cracked and crumbling, and in ill repair. The plant underneath it was also unmanaged or cared for, with one side of the building completely collapsed. The area that would house the reactor had hastily poured concrete over it, also grey and creaking with age. Harry remembered in high school learning that, while most reactors had been shut down during the initial spreading of the Gas, and the fuel rods claimed by all the different shelters and underground cities built across the US, most waste was not able to be properly disposed of. The impromptu way to contain them was pilling it into a reactor, filling it with concrete. Then pouring more concrete over the reactor, filling it¡¯s building with it. Then, on top of the reactor building yet more poured concrete. Then, they fenced a ten mile radius around the reactor and placed signs noting the contaminated substance. After that, the removed any water they could and killed any animals within the fence. Then they were abandoned and left to rot. In nearly two hundred years nobody had checked on or managed the waste. Just letting it burn away in concrete. The fences in this time had either been destroyed, or pulled out and melted down by the above ground dwellers. Now, many animals would wander in, and either be killed by cancer, or be damaged so badly that their offspring were also effected. And Harry didn¡¯t care much, as long as it didn¡¯t harm him directly. At this moment he couldn¡¯t care if enough waste was there to melt his bones and boil his muscles. He just wanted Jaxon to survive, and to get to Foba City for medical help. Just get him there, so he can see his pregnant wife again. Over the horizon, the mountains Foba City resided in began to appear. First, as hazy brown bluffs against the blue horizon. Then, they grew to a solid, stagnant and colossal wall of stone. When the airfield and entrance to the city became easily visible, helicopter began to descend. Coming in low and fast, the ground raced past as fast as a speeding cheetah. The helicopter only slowed when it neared a landing pad with a group of stretcher bearers and several medical personnel. It touched down, bouncing slightly as it¡¯s wheels absorbed the shock. Watson threw the door closest to Jaxon open, and the stretcher bearers laid the stretcher beside it. Jaxon was then carefully moved by Jack and Thomas onto it, one limb at a time. The neared than began to walk steadily to an emergency medical ward that was situated just behind the airlock to the hanger. The doctors accompanied them there, inspecting and assisting Jaxon as they did so. A second group of people, all soldiers, approached the helicopter then. One carried a black bag, and the others tasers. When the group reached the helicopter the bag holding one stepped into the helicopter, and roughly shoved the bag onto the prisoner. He then unbuckled it and began to drag the prisoner to the depths of Foba City¡¯s military district. Harry then climbed out of the helicopter, his boots leaving a trail of blood behind him. From outside the craft, he helped drag the corpse out of its seat. The corpse made a dull thump, its head bouncing heavily off the ground. The rest of the squad disembarked, standing quietly around the helicopter for a moment. An air of exhaustion hung over the soldiers. This silent rest was interrupted by a captain approaching them from the interior. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As the officer led the tired squad away from the airfield, they entered the pressurized area of the city. Inside the airlock the squad disposed of their filters, throwing them into a bin for recycling. At the same time, Black sun two taxied into the hangar. The two other helicopters arrived over the horizon a half hour later, kicking up dust as they landed. These soldiers here were also brought into the debrief room. The insurgent is dragged behind multiple airlocks and secure doors. His escorts have their identities verified twice and he is placed into a dark, dingy cell. He does not know what will happen to himself, but he vows to never be impolite. Jaxon was pulled into the emergency room. He would go through multiple surgeries in the coming days and would always have a raspy voice. Survival was all but certain but returning to duty was not. His service for Nevexico was over. Chapter 9 The debriefing room was always an oppressive place, in Harry¡¯s opinion. There was no such thing as a good debrief. The officers were always displeased, always wanted better performances. And the design of the room itself was dull and restrictive. Grey featureless walls, poor lighting, and uncomfortable chairs rules supreme here. Harry, and the rest of the squad were sitting in the front row, either sleeping or casting their gaze around while waiting for everybody else to return. Time inched onwards slowly, every second stretching into minutes. The only clock in the room was moving unimaginably slow, so slow Harry swore it was broken. It claimed they had only been there for five minutes. It had to be lying. Harry¡¯s hateful thoughts in the direction of the clock were brought to an end when the clattering and clanging of metal were heard. His head snapped around, and he saw Jack and Thomas dueling with their chairs. Parrying and thrusting the two soldiers had wide smiles splitting their faces as they did so. A high-pitched screech of ¡°Engard, Engard! Onwards, to free chairs for all!¡± came from Thomas, with laughter following the ridiculous statement. He followed this statement with the thrust of his chair, it loudly clanging as it bounced of his opponent¡¯s. Making small circles with his chair, Jack backed into the wall. ¡°Never! I shall never permit the peasants to own chairs!¡± Jack¡¯s reply was interrupted with spurs of giggling, as he waved his chair at the ceiling. The chair climbed to high, and the ceiling swatted it to the ground. Without a chair to defend himself, Jack was wide open for attack. Thomas pressed his advantage, pinning jack to the wall by surrounding him with chair legs. Or that was his plan, had he not tripped over Jack¡¯s discarded chair on the way over. The fall brought his chair down on Jack¡¯s head, bouncing away and clattering on a disused table. Thomas¡¯s stomach became aquatinted with the seat of a chair. His impact knocked air out of him, and caused Thomas to groan. ¡°What a couple of idiots.¡± Harry said, albeit a smile and hint of playfulness in his voice. He turned to Watson, who returned the smile before standing. He pulled Thomas off the floor, setting him in a righted seat. Jax was pulled up and straightened out, before being sent to sit beside Thomas. Harry stood and picked up the chair on the table, returning it to it¡¯s proper place. Watson did the same with the one Thomas tripped on. With the two¡¯s shenanigans cleaned up from, Watson and Harry returned to their seats. Boredom slowly returned to the room, inching in minute by minute. The boredom again became unbearable, the silence absolute. So heavy was the silence that a light tone filled Harry¡¯s ears. It rang with high intensity. The silence pressed in, throbbing, pulsing. It battered his eardrums, making the silence deafeningly loud. When it became to much for Harry he rubbed his ears, the quiet scratching resetting the silence. And it would be silent. For a time, then the cycle began again. The cycle repeated eight times before the rest of the platoon arrived. They wandered in behind the same captain as before, each squad taking a row of seats, with the platoon command sitting up front. Harry noted all the lightly wounded individuals were not present, likely in the infirmary. Once everybody was seated the captain began to speak. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going to need to know everything. The Lieutenant and Squad leaders will be providing reports on what they saw and did. I want nothing left out. Now, for the object of this mission. Yorkshire told me a Sergeant Theodore Watson has it?¡± ¡°Yes sir, I have the stick. Several, actually. Corporal Harry Trust collected them.¡± ¡°And¡­ what are on the other USBs?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know sir, I didn¡¯t look at any of the USBs. Harry could tell you.¡± Both the sergeant and the captain turned to look at Harry. For a moment Harry paused, gathering this thoughts before speaking. ¡°Yes, well. Three of the USBs were unlabeled, and the rest had what looked like game titles on them. I didn¡¯t know what the USB looked like so I just grabbed them all and handed them over.¡± ¡°¡­I see. If the investigated USBs are not hostile information and are, in fact, game titles, they will be returned to you in accordance with our looting regulations. Assume that if within two weeks they aren¡¯t returned you aren¡¯t getting them back. ¡°For now, I want an overall summary from Lieutenant Yorkshire. The rest of you will reports latter to be read. If individual evaluations are deemed necessary you will hear from me. I want casualties included, engagements and prisoners taken. I want it all. I¡¯m sure you guys are tired, so once that is dealt with I¡¯ll ask just a few more questions then you¡¯ll be free to go.¡± And Yorkshire did recount everything that happened. From the scorpibig, to the blood eagle. The insurgent outpost. In detail he described the ambush and assault of the ruins. Everything. Specific details may have been excluded, but the reports would add those in. And there would be lot¡¯s of reports. Every NCO and officer had to file them, with individual soldiers having to file additional if their actions were considered exemplary or ornery. ¡°Thank you Yorkshire. Anything sergeants would like to add?¡± Silence followed. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask Berisho¡¯s squad about the captured insurgents¡­¡± The captains questions droned on, filling the silent room with dull, unappetizing sound. The ¡®few more questions¡¯ dragged on for nearly an hour, a dull slog through the necessary protocols. Questions on the number of breaks, estimated bullets fired, anything. The boredom filled the room, pressing in and filling every nook and cranny. When Harry had finally decided to start day dreaming, the captain said; ¡°Alright, that¡¯s all I have for you. Go get some rest and sleep. You are going to be remarkably busy in the coming weeks.¡± With that, the briefing was over. The platoon filed out of the room, back into the well lit corridor. They retraced their steps from earlier that day, heading back into the elevators. Once again they crammed as many as possible into the elevators, everybody wanting to get rest. Once the doors slid shut with jpeunimic hiss, the stench of blood and sweat began to fill the compact room. Several soldiers reached for their masks, pulling the rebreather over their face in an attempt to avoid the odor. When the doors dinged open, everybody practically fell out of the elevator and grasped for fresh air. Everybody then proceeded to the quartermaster, returning their unseated meals in one box, the waste from the others going a second. Several soldiers had also collected their shell casings, discarding them in a third box for recycling. Once the easy things were returned everybody obtained paperwork to fill out and file claims on their loot, as well as captured enemy equipment. Loot a soldier could use as he pleased, things like individual modifications and books and entertainment falling under that category. It would be the soldier¡¯s responsibility to maintain them and keep them operable. Captured equipment would be turned into either the armory and quartermasters, for integration to Nevexico¡¯s own item pool or melting down and recycling. Thing such as weapons, gas masks from post Gas, and vehicles fell under this purview. When the platoon tread it¡¯s path out of the requisitions room they made their way to the armory. The cool, air conditioned halls were full of personnel at this time of day. Even so, everybody parted and allowed a path directly through to the armory. The smell probably is what did it. When the platoon entered the armory they checked out weapon cleaning equipment, and made their way back to their bunk room. The soldiers flooded into the room, tossing their bags and equipment roughly onto their beds. Everybody sat on their respective bunk, and began cleaning their equipment. The room was mostly quiet, the empty bunks emphasize the losses they had taken during their mission. Gas masks came first, nobody quite knowing when they would have to use them again. A drop of dish soap and water were used, a rag and plastic brush being used to scrub them out thoroughly. Once all dirt and grime were removed they placed them into a UV light machine. It would kill any of the Gas inside, the little microbes that attacked the nervous system being destroyed. Once their field masks were in the UV container they all removed their city masks from their lockers and set them beside themselves.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Next, the rifles were disassembled and cleaned. Any carbon was scrubbed away, with a thin sheen of oil being applied over the metal parts. Individual parts were inspected, any fractures and warping noted and removed, with new pieces ready to be ordered. Next came the pistol, everybody repeated the same process. Then individual magazines were checked, springs confirmed to be operating and springy. Everybody then removed their plate carrier, removing the ceramic plate and checking it over. Fractures and damage would mean they needed replacing. The kevlar woven into the vests were checked as well, holes needing patching and stitching. The helmets were also checked over, Harry looking for the same issues as in the vest¡¯s kevlar. When Harry finished checking over his equipment, he stood and strode to the door. Stepping to the hall, he navigated to the armory. There he submitted a report on how much ammo he used and the loot he acquired for his weapon. He handed his weapons and equipment over for a look over by the armorers, before proceeding to the storage zone. There he found his locker and replaced them in his locker, a new grip clutching onto his rail system. With the locker closed he made his way back to the bunk room, passing several members of his platoon on the way. When he returned, he opened his bunk locker, pulling out the soap and shampoo. The shower in the bunk was communal, eight shower heads out in the open. Behind a dividing wall four dozen towels were stacked, free to use for any soldier. A wheeled basket was divided into two sections, one for jumpsuits and the other used towels. Harry unzipped his jumpsuit and stepped out of it, tossing it into the basket. His underwear and socks were peeled away and followed the suit. Harry proceeded to shower, turning the water to scalding. As the steam wafted away from the water Harry scrubbed himself vigorously, rubbing it red raw. While he was showing private Borris and Mcnab took positions on either side, washing themselves as well. Both were members of Berisho squad. An awkward silence began to permeate the shower, nobody making eye contact or speaking while showering. The only sound was water cascading from shower heads and crashing into the floor, bouncing and winding towards a drain in the middle of room. Dirt and mud, and bits of blood, wound down the drain, mixed into the water as streaks of red, brown, and grey. Harry scrubbed away dirt and blood from a stubbed tow, sending streaks of red into the water. His feet, which were once dusted brown and matted red now were a pink and peach color, scrubbed raw and clean. His legs were no longer covered in gritty sand, instead were smooth flat. His chest lacked sweat stains and sweat foam, just left over water. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from a rack. He quickly dried off, rubbing the course brown towel over his entire body before pulling a pair of clean underwear over his naked body. Once he had it pulled up and over his toned legs he made his way to his locker, and pulled out and put on his casual attire. He checked the clock, and noted he had an hour before dinner, and decided to head down to the library and read for a bit. Harry made his way down to the military library in casual attire. While he held the posture of a soldier, his clothes were anything but. Non-regulation grey jumpsuit, far fewer pockets than the military version. It lacked any emblems, and its gas mask pouch was smaller, designed for rubber and soft plastic, rather than metal and rigid plastic. The library was several corridors down, through a checkpoint, and past at least two secondary filtering systems. In the library, Harry made his way to one of the reading tablets set on a table. He switched it on, pulling up the log in information. After logging in Harry began to search for a fictional book to read. He scrolled past his recently read, filled with short stories of surviving accidents, settling onto farms, and starting new lives. Harry sluggishly scrolled through the ¡®suggested based on what you recently read¡¯ tab, reading the synopsis of each story before moving on. His scrolling eventual settled him on To Skin a Skinrat, a story written by a former Nevexican Senator that represented Harry¡¯s hometown, Turnop. The story was about a family finding ways to survive in the wasteland a few short years after the first spreading of the Gas, gong up against food shortages, raiders, and worst of all, politicians claiming to want to help. Harry settled in and began reading, his posture relaxing a bit as he softened out and sank into his chair. His back slid down to rest at a angle against both the seat and head of the chair, his head bent, like pulled by a magnet, towards the reading tablet rested firmly between his legs, which were resting against the edge of the table. Harry was enjoying the story, when he glanced at the time and noticed it was five minutes before supper started. Hurriedly logging out and powering down the device, Harry tossed it onto the table, where it skidded to a stop noisily. As he made his way out, one of the librarians glared at him, burning holes in Harry¡¯s head. Harry quickly rushed up to the mess hall, leaving streaks of fire behind him as he speed walked. The majority of the corridors and rooms he passed were empty, filling him with dread. His speed increased, and the air pressure behind him decreased. Soon he would take flight with the down draft his rushed speed walk brought. Harry¡¯s panicked walk through the empty halls of Foba City¡¯s military levels came to an end. At the back of the food line. Harry would have to wait. And wait. And wait. Perhaps he could- no, if he was caught he¡¯d be sent to the back. So waiting was the option. And maybe some more waiting. And- oh! Harry was finally able to grab his soup. What a tasty soup, if only because it was all the military could make. He grabbed the accompanying glass of milk, and made his way into the seating area. He spent a moment scanning the room, before pacing over to where his platoon was gathered, for the most part. His officer was obviously absent, off eating the officer¡¯s mess. A couple of members of Berisho¡¯s squad were sitting elsewhere, talking with members of the 3rd platoon in their company. A dull roar from dozens, if not hundreds, of conversations bounced off the walls and filled the entirety of the cavernous room. When Harry sat, everybody temporarily paused and glanced at him. Jack, who was sat next to Harry, grinned a little and asked, ¡°Well Mr. Trust, what took you so long? Surely you¡¯ve learned by now that the line gets long far to fast.¡± ¡°I lost track of the time again.¡± Harry muttered, sounding sullen. He began spooning the warm soup into his mouth, while listening to the conversation his appearance interrupted. Boris and Mcnab were leading the talks, acting like friendly diplomats negotiating a treaty with a hostile warmonger. ¡°Alright, if we all go drinking, Boris and I will both get it okayed with the captain, and buy the first four drinks.¡± ¡°First five, otherwise we ain¡¯t going.¡± ¡°Fine. First five. We¡¯ll buy the first five, and get the green light. All you guys have to do is come along. Good?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine with it, how about the rest of you?¡± At this several soldiers along the table gave confirmation, leaving Harry mildly puzzled. ¡°Hold on, Mcnab, Thomas. What¡¯s this about?¡± ¡°Mcnab and Borris here suggested we all go drinking. I wasn¡¯t gonna, unless they agreed to get us cleared to leave and buy the drinks. Managed to convince everybody else that they also wouldn¡¯t go unless those terms were met. We¡¯ve been debating all of supper.¡± ¡°Until now. I finally relented. Harry, would you like to come with? An extra drink wouldn¡¯t be too much more.¡± Harry grinned, momentarily, before speaking, ¡°Only if you buy the first five.¡± ¡°For fu-. You know what? Fine. I¡¯ll buy the first five.¡± ¡°We have a deal.¡± After this the talking died down for a bit, the members of 2nd platoon shoveling soup into their mouths. Bite after bite, until their carefully measured and rationed food was out. They all, as one, began to chug their milk. It was a short standing tradition at that point, to race each other to finish their milk. It almost always ended in a victory for Jean, but with him cooking under the sun in the desert the victory went to Freeman. At his victory he raised his arms up in a victory flex, before quickly dropping them and gathering up his plate. The all gathered their messes afterwords and took them to the dirty dishes station, neatly stacking and organizing them into dividers. After that they gathered just outside the mess for a moment. Mcnab turned and began speaking to the group, ¡°Alright, we meet here at ten, just after we get the schedule for tomorrow. We¡¯ll go out and get drinks, fool around for a short while, and then return to the military levels and get some sleep.¡± ¡°Like you and Boris will be getting any rest afte-¡± Laughter erupted right before whom ever shot the crass joke out could finish, cutting them off. Harry joined in, glancing at those two as he did so. Borris flushed slightly, while Mcnab gave everyone a look of boredom. ¡°Yes, ribbing Borris and I is still funny. Even after four months. Where it¡¯s almost daily. Hilarious in fact.¡± Mcnab¡¯s sarcasm could have melted steel. It just bounced off everybody else, too busy laughing at the admittedly over used joke. ¡°Hey man, we¡¯ll stop after Borris stops getting beet root red every time.¡± ¡°Shut it Alexander.¡± As the laughter subsided, everybody parted ways and began to head towards what ever they would do before meeting for their schedule took place. Harry made his way back towards the library, noting he had three hours to kill now that supper was over. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª As the soldiers all parted ways, officers rushed about a planning room in center of the military levels. Shoddily drawn maps of a compound were projected on screen, being annotated by an aide at his officer¡¯s command. Plans were drawn up, and platoons were pushed about on maps. Contingencies were drawn up and planes were given orders to be armed. The first stage of retaliation was complete. In no small part thanks to the 2nd platoon of the air assault company station at Foba City. Chapter 10 Harry returned to the library , and found an open reading tablet. Turning it on, he watched it boot up before logging into it. When it opened the last book he was reading, To Skin a Skinrat, came up on screen. He began to read it, settling into a comfortable position as he did so. He was quickly absorbed into his reading, the world starting to fade around him. After reading for a couple of hours Harry set the tablet down and saved his chapter. He then logged out and shut off the tablet. He carefully set it down, much to the pleasure of the librarian staring him down. As soon as he finished cleaning up, he made his way to the company briefing room. In there, all four air assault platoons were scattered about, waiting for the schedule for the next day. Soldiers were sitting in square formations of chairs, all facing an elevated platform and white board. The whiteboard in question was about twenty feet long. Everybody sat with their platoon, chatting idly about bland topics. Food, politics, anything from there to the color of the walls. Apparently a few soldiers debated wether the city should add splashes of color to grey halls winding through the underground. Everybody found their seat five minutes before the meeting, and silent two minutes before. Thirty seconds before the company commander walked out on stage. He began speaking and writing the schedule for the next day up on board. The first several blocks were normal, breakfast, and workout. Then there was a base wide presentation apparently, taking up what was normally training and drilling. It was followed by lunch and then the drilling and training instead of free time. Supper followed next, with a bit more free time afterwords. Once the captain was finished explaining the next day¡¯s schedule, everyone took turns going up and memorizing it. In-between bouts of people looking up close at the schedule there was chatting and goofing about taking place. Once he had taken care of that he left the briefing room and made his way to the mess hall. On his stroll there Harry passed various friends and acquaintances from different companies and platoons. With all of them Harry have a polite wave and a nod, and continued walking. He did not want to be late to the platoon¡¯s drinking event. After reaching the mess he waited outside, the group gradually filling the hall. After a couple of minutes everybody had arrived, so Mcnab went over the plan for the evening. ¡°Alright, I got it cleared with Captain Lujien. We¡¯re cleared to go drink and play gooseball down in the sporting level, until twelve. Then we gotta come right back up here. We¡¯ll hit the bar right next to the fields, drink for about an hour, then go play drunken gooseball. Sound good?¡± There were general murmurs of confirmation that floated around the compact group. They waited a minute longer than made their way to the elevators. Everybody packed tightly into a single elevator and rode down into the depths of Foba city. On the sports level, they spilled out of the cramped compartment and into a wide landing. There were several small doors dotted about, with flashing signs above them. They were almost all sports related, either selling gear or providing another service to event goers. At the far end of the atrium were several sports field entrances. Two were labelled Gooseball field, and the rest sports like tennis, soccer, and wrestling. The soldiers ignored these locations. For now. Instead, they made their way to a door labelled Gooseball Bar and Brewery. Harry walked into the familiar bar, the worn wood furniture, and a nice, well lived in feel. Across one side of the bar were several TVs, some were playing feeds of currently empty fields next door. Another one was tuned into a gooseball game going on in another city. Everybody filed in and grabbed a seat, weather it be at the bar or in a booth near it. All of the soldiers called for their first drinks and shots. Harry was sat in a both with several of his friends, Thomas chief among them. He called for the tables first round of drinks, several eight ounce glasses being brought around. Harry grabbed two, stealing one from Jack beside him. Thomas, sitting beside him, burst out with a story retelling a tale from basic, when a drill sergeant was so astounded by Jean¡¯s inability to hit a target. ¡°Thirty rounds! It took Jean thirty rounds to hit it once! He was missing shot after shot. So the instructor came over and was bellowing and howling. Got in his face, his spittle practically flying out of his mask. It was absolutely terrifying at the time, but it is hilarious now. Man, what I wouldn¡¯t give to see Jean shrinking back behind his rifle again¡­¡± Harry drank his fourth glass of vodka, it burning down his throat. While he did that Thomas continued with another tale from Jean, ¡°One morning, not long after the start of camp, when the sergeant began throwing the metal trash an, which is older than us, Jean slept through it. The sergeant flipped it over, kicked down the middle of the aisle and everything. Once everybody else was up and at attention, he was still sleeping. So the sergeant pulled the trash can up to his bunk. And dropped it on Jean. And that woke him up. Barely. He kinda jolted up, mewled a little and looked around. The sergeant said ¡®Hey there little guy.¡¯ After that he crescendoed to maximum volume. Just absolutely burst our ear drums. All the while the rest of us stood at attention next to the end of our bunks.¡± The ambient noises of the bar filled the silence for a while. Idle talking and drinking from other patrons. Harry finished his fourth drink. The buzz grew a little. He began speaking of the time spent with Derick in air assault school. ¡°Derick was a bit of an over cocky ass in the first week. He was rude, pushed others around. Constantly reassured us that he¡¯d be the best and brightest when it came to the helicopter stuff. Which was bullshit since he had never been on one before. Went on in on about it. Really pissed us off. Well, when the time came, he was scared shitless. Couldn¡¯t look down. Could barely even move out of the chopper. He mellowed out a lot after that. Somehow he managed to get over the fear before the end of training.¡± Harry¡¯s fifth drink came, and went. Then his sixth. At this point the words being exchanged between himself and everybody else were barely registering. His seventh brought the buzz to almost fuzzing out his entire head. He really was talking now, telling story after story, making comment after comment. Everything made him and the others laugh. Everything was funny. All of it. The eighth arrived, and shortly after Harry¡¯s brain stopped recording. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.__________________________________________________________________________________ Harry came to the next morning, a headache splitting his skull in two. His brain pulsed and filled those cracks, only to suck back in. And then back through the cracks. And back in. It was agony. His legs swung out of the bunk, plopping onto the floor. He staggered to the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. It did not help in the slightest. His head still throbbed. Harry could barely remember anything after the eighth drink, only vaguely recalling a game of Gooseball and nothing of the second bar. And damn his head really hurt. Harry stripped and showered, rinsing grime and dirt off his body. Bits of plastic and rubber fell off and circled down the drain, to be recycled and used later. When Harry was passably clean, he dried off with the supplied towels, and then dressed. Today he dressed in his standard grey uniform. His boots squeezed his feet, practically airtight. With his uniform on, Harry made his way to the mess. Once again he grabbed a bowl of potato soup, and a glass of lukewarm carrot juice. He sat with several others who went drinking with him last night. ¡°Hey, Harry, how did you manage so many steals while drunk?¡± ¡°Man, those jumps and doges were amazing.¡± ¡°Did you see the way Watson slid under ¡­¡± The talking all blurred together. It was all friendly in nature, although a bit embarrassing given he couldn¡¯t remember a thing pass his eighth drink. From what he could piece together from the stories and jokes he was excellent at dodging equally drunk soldiers. Even so he wasn¡¯t the best player out there, that going to his sergeant Watson. He was almost unanimously voted MVP thanks to his, as SPC Foder put it, ¡®Especially sick moves¡¯. Nobody could really specify what Watson had done that outshone everybody else so much, just that it was amazing. Once breakfast was finished everybody made their way to the indoor parade ground. The entire garrison was called to be given some statement. With how close to when they brought back whatever his platoon brought back Harry had no doubt they were correlated. If not causation. He hoped it was positive news, but he knew better than to expect it. Entering the massive two hundred by two hundred foot room Harry plodded to his company¡¯s area. There he took up his position in the rank and file. Each platoon occupied a fourth of the space given, in number order. Today The Second¡¯s area was vastly under populated. It was a reinforcement of the losses they had suffered. They waited in formation for two minutes, their officers being late, as usual. Or maybe everybody else was early. The tension in the room grew as they waited, and so did the whispers of what the garrison wide announcement was. Near Harry two members of 3rd Platoon were gossiping about the source of the meeting. ¡°I bet you it¡¯s to give a medal to some distinguished officer. It always is.¡± The other soldier, Tullet, rolled his eyes when he responded. "Garret not once have we had this happen for a medal presentation. It¡¯s probably just some announcement about renovations or cutting of funding. Again. Which means firing more soldiers, again.¡± Before Garret could respond the commander of the garrison walked onto the stage. Brigadier Richard, the garrison¡¯s commander, stood in front of a microphone at the front of the room, and waited for a moment while the last of conversation died down. Once it was silent as a mausoleum he spoke into the microphone, throwing his voice around the room. ¡°As of today, we are entering a state of semi-mobilization. Drilling and training will increase. Various members of your units will be pulled out for and attend Drill Sergeant school, in order to assist with the large influx of recruits. There will be weekly briefings and updates on the status of various facilities for company officers and above. ¡°We believe that the Nevixican Republic will soon be at war. This is largely thanks to intel transferred here from a spy implanted amongst insurgents. The headquarters for the insurgents is going to be raided in a week from now.¡± The silence in the room stiffened. The implication that multiple battalions would be getting trained meant that conscription was coming into effect. In the hundred and sixty years of Nevixico, not once had conscription been implemented. Whatever had spooked command was powerful. Richard continued to speak, explaining which company will train when. Laying out a schedule of whom will drill where. Instructing how sleeping and eating arrangements will be. Information on restrictions of communication, with all messages sent by soldiers read or listened to and censored. Free time off base was to be limited to one platoon an evening, with offices having to weigh and coordinate the units being let out. The changes vast and numerous, all restrictions that had previously only been a thing in rule and history books. Harry regretted not sending letters nearly as often as he could have, his messages now to be slowed and possibly straight up destroyed in the name of military secrecy. Once Brigadier Richard finished his informative speech, he left. Likely to go and work on signing new battalions into existence. Tablets with new, updated schedules were handed out. Harry¡¯s company still had this evening drilling and training themselves, but every day in the next month was to assist in training new recruits to replenish losses, as well as training a whole new company of air assault. The fact that the boot camp was so overwhelmed that training would happen in and around Foba City was astounding. Fort Brettle, Nevixico¡¯s only training camp, was capable of handling nearly nine hundred trainees at a time. It had never been that full before, with a volunteer only army never having more than a battalion in training. Soft muttering was slowly growing in the room. The volume gradually increased, beginning to echo across the room. Soon the sound of complaining, griping, and worry thundered about the cavernous room, deafeningly loud. Beside him Private First Class Potter began gripping,¡°Great. Fucking great. Not only do we have more work, now I can¡¯t complain to my family.¡± ¡°Shut it Potter.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say, you have no family outside of the military. This won¡¯t effect you, Ethan.¡± Spat Potter, wheeling to face Ethan, a scowl on his face. He began to raise his fist threateningly, before Harry and Sergeant Berisho both stepped in. Harry grabbed Potter¡¯s fist, while Berisho physically created a barrier between them. ¡°Your life got marginally tougher less than five minutes ago and you are already at each other¡¯s throats. Grow a thicker skin, both of you.¡± Berisho¡¯s statement cooled them both a little, but they still shot daggers at each other. As the two walked away from each other, Berisho shook his head in disappointment. It followed by a sigh that could blow down houses. He walked away shortly after, heading for the barracks as well. Harry turned to go, before getting caught by his sergeant. ¡°Harry, thank you for stepping in there.¡± With that single comment Watson also began to make his way to the barracks. Harry paused for a moment before quickly following. Soon a long stream of soldiers flooded towards the exits in the room. They pressed out the narrow doors, pressurized like water escaping a hose. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª As the soldiers made their way to repositions and reconstruct their barracks, recruiters were pouring over lists of able bodies citizens, judging who should be conscripted and who should be left. Already intelligence officers were setting up servers and rooms to read and redact messages. At the same time files were pulled up on soldiers, personalities and reports read about as the future drill sergeants were selected. Specialized units such as airborne and artillery were overlooked, with skilled combatants needed more than ever. Chapter 11 It had been a week since the restrictions were introduced and by then the bunk room were significantly more cramped now that the number of soldiers in it doubled. 2nd Platoon had shifted all their bunks closer together and to one side, while 4th Platoon carried all their bunks and placed them in the available space. All the lockers holding personal effects were crammed against walls and stacked two high. The luxury of small units getting their own rooms was now gone, with the massive influx of soldiers needing more and more space. Several larger rooms were being converted from their recreation purposes to additional barracks, and there were plans made to expand into the surface, and have several pressurized barracks along the airfield. The additions seemed unnecessary to Harry, only serving to increase the target size in his opinion. But he wasn¡¯t in charge so they were planned and prepared. In this time the losses the air assault team had taken had been replaced, a quick school undertaken by a few chosen applicants. They would be joining the platoon and acting as a full new squad, the more veteran troops getting shunted into other squads. Gordon had since recovered from his wounds and rejoined the platoon in drills. Harry was currently being briefed on the upcoming mission, the week of preparation having flown by fast. Drills were made on how they would be breaching and capturing the compound, a rough mock up of the buildings having been constructed. The structures were to be hit by several bombs dropped in an air strike, opening up holes in the facility and hopefully disorienting the insurgents inside. From there the air assault company would move in, one platoon providing overwatch while the other three breached and captured the facility. Harry¡¯s platoon would be entering through a hole made in the armory, blasted open by the airstrike. From there they would press in and clear the center building, which should have also been hit by an explosive. The armory was not to be left unguarded, so one squad would stay behind while the rest stormed the building across the alleyway. From there they would extract as much information, files, and prisoners as reasonably possible. Once the company finished their briefing, they were dismissed to finish their preparations for the upcoming raid. Everybody went to the armory, and went through the long and arduous check out process. Full plate and Kevlar armor were put on, Kevlar pieces strapped onto legs and arms, and place carriers resting on chests. Pistols were cleaned and holstered, rifles prepped and loaded. Knives were polished and sheathed. Grenades clipped to belts and chests. Soldiers strapped, tapped and balanced magazines and extra ammunition anywhere that fit. Harry walked out into the hanger in a throng of soldiers, and could see five Blackhawks and a Chinook idling in the hanger. One of the Blackhawks, Black Sun-5, were set up to have missile hard point extending from it¡¯s side, sacrificing some troop transport capability for fire support. Nearby two F-15s were being loaded with munitions for their upcoming air strikes. The old, reliable planes were just about all Nevixico had, still remaining in service after hundreds of years. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Harry climbed into a Blackhawk with his squad and Berisho¡¯s squad. He was sat in the middle, waiting for take off. A kind of nervous energy was building in his chest, bouncing about and making him jittery. Several other soldiers, Thomas, and Mcnab, for example, were also fidgeting and constantly changing the targets of their eyes. Everybody, showing their nervousness or not, was as ready as possible for the upcoming mission. There was a strange comfort in Harry, underlying the rebounding nervousness, that regardless of what happens next he was prepared for it. It didn¡¯t give him confidence, just reassurance. Reassurance that it would work out eventually. Soon everything was squared away, ammunition loaded, jets and helicopters fueled, soldiers crammed into transports. First the helicopters spooled up, blades spinning faster and fast till they, one by one, slowly lifted off the ground and banked towards the coordinates of the compound. The jets idled out onto the runway, preparing to take off. The helicopters flew for nearly and hour, bobbing through the valleys and close the ground. They shot past a small village, it¡¯s crops withering under the unrelenting desert sun. Various animals were scattered about, dodging from shadow to shadow and dug out to dug out, trying to avoid the harsh sun. Even after the Gas mutated them they remained adverse to heat. Harry was gripping his rifle, his nervousness rising. Rising. Mounting. This wasn¡¯t like the last mission, a simple go fetch gone wrong. This was a ¡®go and kill them¡¯ mission. Something Harry, nor the rest of his unit really, if you thought long and hard of it, had done before. Sure there were the ¡®go scare these angry villagers¡¯ or the ¡®hunt the mutants to protect the villagers¡¯ but never any direct ¡®go and kill them¡¯ mission, thought Harry, his anticipation making him more philosophical than normal. Over the radio crackled Harry¡¯s Captain, informing everybody that they were nearly there and the airstrike would hit soon. Then the inside of the helicopter was lit up. Harry was blinded, the sudden light searing his retinas. He and countless others shouted and screamed as they lost vision. Through the din of confusion, a pilot¡¯s calm voice cut in, ¡°Command, this is Black Sun-1, Black Sun-3 was intercepted by a a missile, over.¡± Harry was snapped out of his confusion, and leaned over to the windows, trying to spot anything outside. The left side just had normal desert and helicopters. The right? A cloud of smoke and flaming debris scattered across the earth. The husk of the helicopter was glowing orange as flames engulfed it. The cockpit wasn¡¯t visible, flattened and dug into the sandy earth. A trail of smoke from what a hidden dugout, only existing shortly in Harry¡¯s view before a missile from Black Sun-5 burst through it, throwing chunks of sand and what looked to be limestone into the air. The helicopter Harry was in banked hard, diving towards the ground. ¡°Change of plans everybody, we¡¯re disembarking here. They knew we were coming.¡± Shouted the pilot, leveling out just above the ground. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª- Nearby this messy situation the two fighter jets climbed and prepared for their first pass of the targets. In the compound itself insurgents rushed about, preparing defenses, building barricades and burning documents. Their rushed actions focusing around the center building and the entrances. Chapter 12 As soon as the helicopter touched down everybody in it piled out, a few soldiers practically falling out into the sand. Harry was one of the last one out, falling into the sand with such force that he sank ankle deep. Harry pulled up one leg, while untangling his rifled from it¡¯s strap. While his hands fumbled around the strap Harry yanked his other boot out of the sand, already falling behind the rest of the company as it pressed up the divot towards the insurgent compound. Sand was flying everywhere as the mad scramble up was happening. It pelleted off Harry¡¯s mask and some even got stuck in his filter. Harry shook his head to try and dislodge the intruding sand, still climbing up the divot. At the top the steep dune the company was spread out, and the captain shouting orders at the Lieutenants.¡°Yorkshire, take your platoon and circle round to the armory. George move towards barracks over there. Tommy. Hold on, where¡¯s Tommy?¡± ¡°In Black Sun-3.¡± Shouted a private just up the hill from Harry, Jared was his name. ¡°Shit.Wesley take command of 3rd and takeover for overwatch. Jovan get ready to storm those garage doors. Don¡¯t get close till the air strikes hit.¡± The confusion was crushed when the orders were given. Harry climbed the dune a little bit more, and then followed along behind his sergeant. The sand scattered down the dune after every step, a scrabbling clatter from the cascading sand echoing back up towards them. Anytime a soldier¡¯s head drifted up above the ridge line a river of bullets flooded around them, and the heads ducked back down. The carefully rushed movement about the compound allowed them to be taking cover just outside the armory in eight minutes. The wall of the armory had no windows or cracks in it, and was a short, stout building. The wall that ran around the rest of the compound seamlessly melded into it, providing solid cover and protection to the insurgents. Sounds of confusion and urgency, muffled by the thick walls, wafted across the wind towards Harry¡¯s position. The multi-story building in the center of the insurgent headquarters towered up above the single story of the armory, and it¡¯s backdrop were the three two story barracks, each one arranged in an L shape to form ? of a square. The rumble of jet engines soon drowned out the sounds of hurried defensiveness, two F-15s racing over the horizon. They were spaced out, one in front of the other and to the right. Along the underside of their wings sat two dumb bombs, guided by momentum and detonated by percussion fuses. The front one drubbed it¡¯s bomb, followed by the second. The first one sailed, almost gracefully, into the top of the command center. The stone roof looked as though it melted under the impact, rolling inwards softly before an orang fireball erupted forth. It blasted what remained of roof into the air, scattering the shattered pieces across the winds. The walls bulged out and folded, the explosion compromising the third floor¡¯s stability. The second floor walls had a fireball erupt out of two, one backlighting a flaming insurgent. The second bomb hit the garage, but instead of forcing through the roof it exploded on impact, no delay added to the fuse. It brought the roof down, crushing vehicles and fuel canisters, as well as any defenders inside. The fireball, instead of erupting in all directions like the first bomb, was directed almost entirely downwards, with minimal flam going up or out. The fuel and ammunition ignited in the garage, burning brightly and cooking off. Bullets sprayed everywhere, and the third and fourth platoon had to take cover to avoid being shredded by them. Then the planes were gone, shooting back across the horizon. Now the only sounds were dying insurgents and burning fuel, the orange glow lighting the sand around it. Some burning paper or clothes floated down towards Harry, almost peacefully if not for the set on which it danced. Then the jets returned for a second pass, this time releasing the bombs directly above Harry¡¯s platoon. One flew into the armory¡¯s side wall, another through the barracks. The explosive for the armory was significantly less incisive than the one used on the central building, just being enough to blast through the wall and send shrapnel into anybody unfortunate enough to be on the other side of the wall. The fourth and final bomb blossomed a flower of boiling death up above the barracks. A flower that was extinguished just as fast as it bloomed, dust and rubble drowning it, sweeping up and obscuring further vision of the area. Harry sprang up, charging towards the breach. He was first to be shaken out of the sense revelry, soon followed by two, then three, then the entire platoon. Harry held is rifle slightly in front of him, his barrel pointing towards the hole. Within seconds he was just in front of it, still not slowing down. His feet wobbled and slipped on debris, struggling to keep him stable. Harry propelled himself through the hole and into the armory. His vision was met by the sight of two bleeding insurgents on the floor. To his left lay a blasted open door, his front an open room filled with firearms and ammunition, and to his right a long hall lined with weapons ending in a door. Harry rushed into the door to his left, followed by the rest of his squad. Harry pressed through, turning to quickly towards his right. He turned so quickly his should rammed into the doorframe, knocking him off balance for a skittering moment. Harry cast his gaze, accompanied by his rifle, across the room. Two dazed insurgents sat in the room, a third chair empty, behind reinforced glass watching the entrance to the building. Harry shot the first insurgent through his eye, blood and eye juices sprayed out of the hole in his mask. The second one began reaching for his rifle, but was shot through the chest by Thomas. Carefully Harry¡¯s squad began finish clearing the room, casting calm glances around the room while gunfire sounded all throughout the compound. Harry kicked over a chair and placed his hand on the desk under the security window. He bent at the waist and looked under the desk, rifle held by just one hand. Just a waste bin and a few loose bullets.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Harry straightened up just in time to see Jaxon yank open a steel cabinet in the corner, it¡¯s paper¡¯s and a shelf hastily cast onto the ground. In it a cowering insurgent was crammed into a corner, a pistol in hand. With a small shriek she began to raise her pistol in a trembling grip, before a ear splitting bang sounded. And the hand went limp, along with the rest of the insurgent. The pistol fell from the hand and the insurgent¡¯s tense body relaxed and toppled out of the hiding spot, a wide wound in her chest. Thomas lowered his rifle, gave a curt nod to Jaxon, and ducked out of the room. Harry followed shortly after, patting Jaxon on the shoulder as he went past. Jaxon, perhaps contemplating how close to death he had come, or maybe just checking one more thing, came out a moment later. In the central room the rest of the platoon was gathering, the new squad already at the entrance and firing at insurgents in the courtyard. Bullets bounced and ricocheting off the walls, an occasional one piercing the wall and spiraling through the room. Lt. Yorkshire shouted over the din of gunfire, his voice stressed and hoarse, ¡°When the fire dies down we get over to the central building. Remember, the door is just on the other side from us.¡± The seconds of waiting were agonizingly long, growing longer as the concrete wall weakened, more bullets punching through. Mcnab, who was standing right beside Harry, was shot through the shoulder twenty seconds in, falling over from shock and clutching is in an attempt to slow the blood flow. Freeman rushed over, medical kit in hand, and guided Mcnab back into the hallway and began treating the wound. The a grenade sailed by and exploded, forcing the insurgents to dive for cover, giving the perfect opportunity to dash out of cover. Berisho led the way, followed by his squad. And Watson joined the fray, Harry close behind. They charged past the insurgent sandbags, and fired at the cowering soldiers. After the quick executions they continued this push towards the center building¡¯s entrance. Windows were situated along the wall, each one closed and boarded. Berisho led them across the side, decided it the windows posed no immediate threat. They stayed near the wall, using it as cover from anything directly above them. Their steady pace took a fireteam across the building, everybody else providing cover. Insurgents still held controlled of the barracks, but most were preoccupied with third platoon¡¯s advancement. The heavy fighting across the compound let many dead insurgents and nevexicans alike, their bodies still and lifeless. Gunfire was permeated the air, thicker than the Gas all around. Has Harry watched a brutal melee broke out, knives slashing flesh while rifle reports were heard. Masks were shattered, throats sliced open. Shotguns had a field day, shredding entire crowds in quick succession. The second fire team made their way across slowly, not wanting to draw fire from the bloody brawl across the clearing. They passed by the boarded windows, staying low to avoid crossing the line of sight. Once they reached the other side the next fireteam crossed. Then Harry¡¯s crossed. Followed by two others. Soon everybody had crossed the wall to the other side of the wall. Everybody began preparing to go through the wall, stacking up tightly against it. Harry felt the hand pat his shoulder, nodded silently, then patted the should in front of him. The wordless signal that he, and everybody behind him, was ready. Once the front of the stack received the pat, he shot open the door with his shotgun, while the man right behind him hurled in a flash-bang. An ear shattering bang rang out from the room, a flash washing the doorway in a blinding white. The entire file sprinted through the door, rounding corners, and bounding through the wide-open space. A couple of shots rang from unfamiliar weapons, and wo Nevexicans went down. The insurgents that were behind hastily erected sandbags, and a well-placed machine gun, and most were clutching their ears with their eyes squeezed tight behind their masks. The few who were not were quickly shot or skewered by the tide of well trained infantry pouring into the building. Harry rounded the corner to the left, dodging the body of a comrade and vaulting a group of sandbags in his way. Gerald and Jaxon followed right behind. Gerald made it over the sandbag wall with ease, but Jaxon¡¯s leg got caught on it and brought down several bags on top of hisself. Not slowing down Harry bounded over to a stunned insurgent and cracked them on the head with his rifle, knocking them unconscious. Gerald shot another incapacitated insurgent through the eye, killing him instantly. He and Harry then began moving along the wall, dodging around walls of sandbags, and checking the corners for insurgents. Two more insurgents were shot by Gerald once their area was cleared. Jaxon had managed to extricate himself from the pile of sandbags and joined the two in their efforts to clear their corner of the building. Gunfire still sounded occasionally, short, and concise bursts of noise followed by silence. Emerging from the little sandbag ridden area Harry approached his squad lead, a dazed insurgent being dragged by Gerald and Jaxon. The two bodies of Nevexicans were neatly laid side by side near the door. The dead insurgents were being dragged outside, where the fighting had stopped. Weapons were being collected by other soldiers, being carried outside carefully. ¡°Sergeant, we managed to capture an insurgent.¡± ¡°Thank you, corporal. Prisoners are being gathered in the courtyard near the garages. Take him there.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± With that, Harry led Gerald and Jaxon, plus the insurgent, out the door and past the Nevexican bodies. Looking at them, Harry recognized it was Harold and Jack. One had a neat little hole through the center of his forehead, while Jack had a ragged line of tears tracing from his upper left chest, through his neck, and terminating on his chin. Both of their masks were shattered and useless. Out in the courtyard it was much of the same inside. Soldiers were carefully piling weapons up in the center of the courtyard, while all the dead insurgents were being laid out in rows near the barracks. From just outside the door Harry couldn¡¯t see the captured insurgent collection point, so he kept walking. He led his fireteam around the left corner of the building and spotted it. Five or six unarmed and battered people sat, their arms restrained behind them, in the sandy ground. Harry placed his insurgent with the others, giving a silent, respectful nod to the private from first platoon watching them. Harry returned to central building just as the last of the bodies were removed. Harry led his fireteam back into the building, glancing around as he entered. In there the captain, his lieutenant and two soldiers holding a charred green, blue, and yellow cloth. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª Outside of an imposing building on the Great Plains waves a blue flag with a swallow tail. Green trim is all around the flag, and a sunflower with thirty four petals rests in the center. Above the entrance to the grand limestone administration building is a Latin phrase, carved in stone, ¡°Ad Astra, Per Aspera¡±. And atop this building sits a copper Native American, his bow shooting for the heavens, green with age. The Capitol of an Empire.