Eh; you'll probably find some mistakes in this since I never really edited it heavily. Here is "E.C. Battalion"
***
Repus slammed his back against a crumbling brick wall, knocking fallen debris away with an ironclad boot. He knelt down to one knee and shoved his rifle around the corner. The reverberation of gunfire, gruesome shouts and cries filled the air.
“Can’t get a target,” he spoke through a headset. “Nothing on scope.”
No response came. Repus took careful account of what laid ahead-- A wide gravel path between buildings that hardly stood, followed by a sunbathed road. On the road was a demolished truck lying on its side, resting alongside a corpse he but moments before called commander. Taking the headset between his fingers, he ripped it from his ear and hurled it against the bricks. Shifting his head both ways, Repus pressed his palms tightly on his weapon. Using an embedded rock as a footstool, he lunged, keeping his body low, in an all out sprint. The shots seemed right next to his flank as the gravel spread from his hurried feet.
The alleyway came to a close with the world shaking in Repus’ sights. Leaping onto the asphalt, he moved behind the toppled vehicle with a sharp look right. His stomach nearly overturned from the sight-- it was like a shower of bodies had rained from the sky, with both militant and civilian alike. Forcing his eyes away, he ducked behind the truck for cover, checking his ammo.
“I’m such an idiot.” He said to himself, assuring his magazine was firmly placed. “Where the hell is the rest of my squad?”
He focused left down the long road, lined with closed supermarkets, factories, and a church with a severed bell tower. Cracks and craters dominated the road. The cold breaths that filled his lungs began to slow, a soft wind blowing at his black hair and tight breastplate. Just as his nerves began to cool, his ears perked at a sudden blast that permeated the sky. It was an alarm-- the sound of howling steam. His head shot up, seeing the top of a distant skyscraper, surrounded by a mask of smoke. It was the nuclear signal, a sound that sent a chill through his very morrow. He moved to look over the truck, seeing the way was clear of hostiles. He pressed his gun against his chest, stepping over his commander to ready a run. In light of the situation, Repus had but one goal fresh in mind. The battle was near his house, the home that protected his child.
Drawing in a breath, he returned to a run, dodging as best he could the marred dead. Out of nowhere a blazing inferno shot stones once belonging to a structure into his flesh. His legs continued to churn, approaching an intersection with felled stoplights. Dropping the rifle to one side, he rested his hand on the black poles of the lights, his muscles cringing at the feel of dripping blood. He rose his foot to jump the barricade, but the shrill voices of fellow humans drew his gaze westward. The first thing he saw was glaring red lights. A small group of soldiers engaged the mechanical abomination, some taken refuge behind the rubble of a former bank, and others racing around it with fairing guns. The towering machine moved its tan plated arms with a ghostly screech, the wires and churning gears visible through an open exoskeleton. Attached at the end of the arms were two rotating guns, proven able to shred through armor at any given moment. Repus was speechless, turning away from a pool of bodily organs resting at its feet.
“RPG! Clear away!” Said one soldier frantically.
“Hurry dammit, we have to evacuate!” came another.
Repus hopped the pole, suppressing the remorse and fear that welled in his chest. The road continued but a smell bit more, and then came the turn into his neighborhood. He instinctively lowered himself just as bullets swept over his head, moving as quick as his weary body would take him. Repus passed the intersection, looking back past the rock and steel covered sidewalks. It was nearly out of sight, along with fellow men he could well have aided. Pressing forward, a gruesome scream of a woman echoed from the horizons. A cold sweat dripped down his forehead.
The long row of buildings came to an end on his right flank, breaking into a small field of grass. This led down to another street encircling a large collection of houses-- most in no better condition than the rest of the city. Repus stumbled on his way down the hill, slipping into the nearest avenue. He looked from the parked cars, fenced yards and rotting wooden houses up into the red sky. The satellites would align soon-- it was only a matter of time before the entire area was blown into oblivion.
Another yell enveloped the air-- it was the woman from before.
Taking a sharp left, Repus’s boots skid against the hard ground. He caught his street, and the park which was but blocks from his son. Moving past two graffiti-paved walls he was taken off guard laying witness to a second machine in the midst of the park. Its crimson eyes were set upon a youthful girl who crawled through murk and grass in hopes of escape. Taking aim, Repus unleashed his entire arsenal at the behemoth, the flashes taking his eyes and pounding his ears. The machine didn’t as much as turn its head. Instead one of its the mounted guns churned upwards. A long slender spike exuded where the gun had been, a trail of smoke exhausting from the arm. Repus’ rifle shot it’s last bullet, leaving him with a deafening ring. He cast the sweat from his brow and his gun slipped from his fingertips. He slid back instinctively, a terror of self-preservation eating at his bowels.
The machine’s spiked arm plunged down, a spray of blood rising as a fountain. Through the rings and past the alarm Repus could still hear her-- a moan that humans were never designed to make. He might have wept then, yet his attention was drawn to the machine’s other arm. The second gun was pointing directly at him. “No!” he yelled, turning as fast his joints allowed. The next he knew-- he was seeing red. A mountain of pain flowed in his veins, his head and arms ripped across rigid pavement. His hand bolted for his face, the sheer volume of blood but a fraction of his bottomless agony. His other limbs, as if coated with needles, flailed about madly. A deeper darkness entered his senses. Gnashing his teeth shut, Repus clawed ahead of him, dragging his armor forward vehemently while sucking in as much air as he could. He staggered back onto his feet, wobbling on legs he hardly felt.
“Charlie!” Repus bellowed, stammering forward with extended hands. “My god-- Charlie!”
His eyes didn’t open, the sting prevalent. Repus collapsed to his knees, tasting blood and feeling the vibration of the advancing enemy.
“There is no time,” he breathed, pounding a fist down. “No time… for any of us.” His head grinded again into the road, and his thoughts dispersed.
When he came to the sound of an engine was inches away, along with the stern voices of many men.
“So you did hear something. But loo--”
“Shit, Battalion! Haul ass, get him onboard!”
Repus felt pairs of hands grasp him. They raised him into the air. After moments of dangling he felt his back cleave against a hard seat, followed by two slamming doors.
“T minus one minute,” someone said, the vehicle taking off with skidding wheels. “Just enough time with no complications.”
The men continued to speak; yet the words meant nothing. He drowned out everything-- until an explosion came like a raging wave. The vehicle shook violently, and curses flew amidst the crew, yet Repus could only give a wry, confused smile. A smile that formed as pungent tears trickled down his cheeks.
His final treasure was wisped from the Earth.
|
|
Bookmarks