Authors: Doug Vossen
Skyfire (16 page)
The corporal groaned and jerked himself upright. He awkwardly ambled toward the tent’s opening flap. His steps were short and uncoordinated; his ACU pants were still around his ankles.
What in the fuck is he doing?
The dim lighting accentuated his red eyes and the fluid around his mouth. Dark, viscous liquid dripped down his pale chest, covering his genitals and thighs as he stumbled forward. All around them, inhuman screeching from patients inside the aid station now overpowered the sound of the generators parked outside the tent. The doctors and nurses were quickly losing control.
Just then, the corporal thrust his left arm forward and grabbed a M249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) from the rifle rack by the entrance. The weapon was already in the “fire” position, with the bolt forward in a configuration many believed protected against accidental discharges. He then jerked his right arm back, yanking the charging handle to the open-bolt position. He turned in the direction of the chaos, gripping the machine gun in an unorthodox manner with his left hand as he swayed back and forth.
Without thinking, Callie launched herself toward Jess, pulling her gurney to the ground and climbing on top of her prostrate body. “It’s going to be OK, baby!”
The corporal clumsily lifted the twenty-two pound weapon while bent at the wrist. Then he spun in a semicircle at an upward, forty-five degree angle.
JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG JUG-JUG-JUG!
The sound was deafening.
Chaos erupted. People dropped all around Callie and Jessica.
My purse!
Callie grabbed it and fumbled around inside during the brief respite after the first volley of SAW rounds. The smell of expended ammunition and gun oil wafted into her nostrils, complementing the stench of blood, guts, and excrement.
JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG!
The human screams grew quieter and quieter after every shot; the inhuman screeching grew louder. The most prominent sound was 5.56mm rounds from the snub-nosed barrel of the light machine gun tearing human flesh.
Callie found the cop’s Beretta 92 and crawled toward the corporal.
JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG-JUG!!!
A soldier’s body fell in her path, his punctured jugular spraying her in the face. The blood tasted like a fistful of old pocket change.
These are the moments that matter, slut.
Callie flicked the lever at the back of the Beretta forward, exposing the red dot. She pointed the gun at the corporal, her hands shaking.
Life is never going to be the same again
. “I’m sorry!” She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. And then she squeezed again. And again. She went blind with rage.
Click-click-click-click-click-click.
“Callie, stop it! It’s over! You did it!” Sam gently touched the top of Callie’s forearms and pushed downward.
Callie’s hands were still shaking, but she had a death grip on the Beretta. She didn’t even remember transitioning from lying down in the gore to standing above the now-faceless corporal, an entire magazine’s worth of rounds in his head and body. “Jessie!” she almost slipped in her haste to run back to Jessica. Callie knelt down, picked up her companion and cradled her.
Sam signaled for Callie’s attention. “Callie, we need to go. Everyone’s dead or running around like a fucking crazy person right now. There’s still a few evac birds on standby over by the artillery battery at brigade. I saw them when we rolled in earlier to set up.”
Callie was trembling.
I just killed someone. I just killed a person. A REAL LIVING PERSON.
“But Sam, I just-”
“Girl, I get it. I really get it, but you did exactly what the fuck you had to do. You’re alive and he’s not, and that means you have the rest of your life to work through it. But now is NOT the time. The time is when you’re alone in tears cracking a fucking beer in your car fifteen minutes before an AA meeting your boyfriend’s making you go to a year from now.”
Callie nodded, her face blank.
“You saved us back there,” said Ramos. “Now you know what war is like. We’re going to get our asses to the blackhawks and pick up as many people who aren’t dead along the way, do you understand?”
Callie nodded. “I get it. I can do this.”
“Good girl. You got any more ammo for that thing?”
“In my purse.”
“You know how to do it?”
Callie nodded, pulling Jessica closer.
Sam grabbed another SAW from the rifle rack. “Let’s go, we got shit to do.”
HUGHES
“Did you just hear gunshots?” Martin asked, as if reading Trent’s mind.
The sound carried an unmistakable echo. Gunfire was indeed coming from the aid station two hundred meters away. “Sergeant Martin, that was DEFINITELY what that was.” Trent’s mind raced just as it had every time he’d made enemy contact during his time in the Middle East. It took about three seconds to intellectually realize something horrifying.
Holy shit, someone is firing a FUCKING SAW in there!
“Martin, hold up here, man. That shit was absolutely a SAW. Let’s take a second to figure out what’s going on.” The two laid the young sergeant on his side so he wouldn’t choke to death on the stream of dark discharge coming from his mouth.
Need to find some good cover for this guy and then get in there to find Jessica.
Trent scannedleft and right
.
Before he could process his surroundings, he saw a group of dark silhouettes running at him from the aid station, screaming something unintelligible.
Callie? Jess?
A wave of relief passed over Trent. He hadn’t felt such elation in forever. “Callie, what the fuck happened?”
“Trent!” It was, in fact, Callie’s voice.
Thank god, she’s holding Jess!
“What the hell happened in there?
”
Why are they all drenched in blood?
Ramos spoke first. “I hate to break up the reunion, but we need to get the fuck out of here. Shit is about to get ugly FAST!”
“What do you mean ugly?” said Martin.
“I mean, everyone who starts out sick ends up homicidal! It goes hallucinations, symptoms, psychotic break!”
“What the fuck do you mean psychotic break?” asked Martin.
“Sergeant, I promise I will explain everything when we get a second to breathe. Are those birds over by brigade still on standby?”
“Yeah, last I saw.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” said Ramos. “Switch off carrying the girl and this hurt dude. Pick up anyone else along the way that isn’t trying to kill you. Shoot anyone who is, even if they’re in uniform.”
Jesus Christ, what is she saying?
Trent’s eyes darted to Callie, as if to ask if the woman barking orders was legit.
“Trent, she’s Sam and she’s cool. Trust me. We need to get to those helicopters to get Jessica out of here.”
Whatever, this is completely normal by today’s standards
.
“Let’s move!” Trent yelled. “I’ll get up front with my long gun. Sam, are you cool to cover our six with that SAW?”
Ramos nodded.
I’m back.
“OK, good. I want eight to ten meters between everyone, offset and staggered in our direction of movement. All of you FUCKING STAY SPREAD OUT. We have absolutely no idea what we’re dealing with. Sam, if I start shooting at something come to the front of the column and lay down suppressive fire so I can wheel around to assault the flank.”
Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself? Assault the flank of what?
Sam didn’t balk. She sensed Trent had an understanding of infantry tactics, at least more so than she did.
They began the slow, deliberate process of moving toward the brigade TOC. After about a hundred meters, they saw a brilliant flash from the fractal phenomenon.
Oh shit!
Sergeant Martin noticed Harrison running past them, back toward the aid station. “Harrison, get on me! Shit’s changed, make sure you lock and load! Stick with the guy in the Yankee hat up front and listen to what he says!”
Harrison complied, simply turning around and running alongside Trent. Trent saw him partially pull back the rifle’s charging handle to ensure he was locked and loaded.
Good fuckin’ kid.
Another brilliant flash materialized from the entity, its arms branching out in impressive fractal patterns, as if embracing the sky.
The group kept moving. The popcorn sounds of small arms fire erupted all around them. Helicopter rotors whirred in the distance. Blood-curdling screams and shrieks filled the night air. Chaos ruled at Firebase Liberty.
They approached a series of tents lined up in long rows on each side of the path, stretching as far as the eye could see. Each cluster of canvas tents contained a command headquarters, platoon lodging, and vehicle parking for each infantry company in the brigade, twelve total. Behind each group of four tents was a larger canvas tent for each of the three battalion headquarters areas.
I have a bad feeling about this. We need to go around the long way. Fuck.
“Guys, break left,” said Trent. “If everyone’s going ape-shit shooting each other, we need to not be in the middle of where a brigade’s worth of infantry is!”
“Roger!” responded Harrison, Ramos, and Martin in unison. Callie was still too shocked to speak.
Where IS everyone?
Trent wondered.
I hear shots everywhere. Something isn’t right.
They ran to the left of the first series of tents. A prominent sign, carefully painted by hand and measuring ten by eight feet, read ‘1-32 Infantry – Spartans.’ In the brilliant pulsing light of the phenomenon, the cheesy sign of a Greek solider looked strangely ominous, even if it looked like a six year-old tried to paint gay porn on plywood.
What the hell?
Trent held his right, non-firing hand up in the air, slightly higher than shoulder level. Everyone following him stopped instantaneously.
What the fuck is that guy doing?
“Guys, take cover behind these gun trucks.” Trent pointed to the neatly-parked row of M998 Humvees.
“Hey man, be careful,” warned Sam. “You don’t know what he’s gonna do.”
A man in uniform, wearing a full complement of combat kit and holding a rifle, stood next to a row of humvees parked just outside the 1-32 Infantry headquarters tent. It was eerily quiet around him, while in the background the screeching, screaming, and small-arms popcorn fire continued. The man looked to be swaying back and forth. He took no notice as Trent quietly approached, his weapon at the ready.
I just want to get a little closer to get a better view.
Trent lowered the quick release on his assault pack. The man seemed to be above average in height and weight, with body armor, a Kevlar ACH helmet, and a standard M4 carbine rifle, similar to Trent’s.
What the fuck is he doing?
The man was slowly and repeatedly knocking his head against one of the trucks. Trent walked a little closer.
“Dude!” whispered Callie loudly. “What the fuck are you doing?” She peeked out from where the group had taken cover.
Trent approached the man, who was moaning. “Hey man, are you OK? Maybe you should stop doing that.”
At that instant the entity flashed brilliantly, brighter than at any other time, causing a temporary blinding effect. The next thing Trent knew, he was on the ground, grappling with the soldier. The man was on top of Trent, awkwardly pawing at him and screeching loudly. The sound of the screeching was painful to hear. Dark, viscous fluid dripped from the soldier’s face, onto Trent.
Oh Jesus, it got in my mouth. It got in my fucking mouth!
“Goddamn it, I knew it. I fucking knew it!” yelled Callie.
The scuffle continued. Trent used all his strength to rotate his body out from under the soldier and wrap his legs around the man’s waist. It was an exceedingly difficult maneuver; the soldier’s gear added forty pounds to his frame. With each movement Trent, in only his black hooded sweathshirt, exposed himself to more painful scrapes and bruises. His hat was partially over his eyes, making it difficult to see.
Now or never, faggot. Pressure’s on.
With one swift motion learned from repetitive training almost a decade prior, Trent rotated his hips left, raised both his legs above his head and slammed them down, his left leg onto the soldier’s face and his right onto the soldier’s chest. He grabbed the man’s arm between his legs and squeezed, pressing the outside of the man’s non-weapon wielding elbow to his hips. He thrust upward, clenching his thighs as hard as he could.
What the hell is taking so long?
In training, Trent remembered his sparring partners tapping out at the first sign of the strain associated with a hyper-extended elbow.
I guess it’s gonna take more this time.
Finally, Trent heard the spine-tingling sound of three small pops, followed by one louder pop and an ungodly screech.
I am so lucky neither of these rifles somehow discharged and blew my fucking dick off.
The scuffle gave Trent the vital few seconds needed before the man regained his bearings and relentlessly moved toward him again. Trent slid backward, pushing himself with his heels, and clumsily rose to his feet. He flicked the selector lever on his carbine from safe to semi, but before he could fire he heard the thunderous sound of a SAW opening up behind him.
Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamn crutch!
“You’re welcome,” said Ramos, three meters behind and staggered to the left. “But seriously? An arm-bar?”
When a SAW is fired at a human being, especially at close range, it does not simply leave entry and exit wounds. It eviscerates flesh into a gory pile of shit. The odd thing was, Ramos didn’t even flinch.
This fuckin’ chick is looking at me like I’m the biggest pussy ever. This girl is awesome!
“Thank you,” Trent said. “Good job, Sam. Good looking out,” Trent was so impressed he momentarily forgot the fluid that had dripped into his mouth.
“Let’s keep moving,” said Ramos.
Trent picked up his gear and waved everyone forward. Sergeant Martin and Callie carried the two casualties; Ramos and Harrison helped with security. The entity pulsed even faster, its fractal patterns branching out in the most brilliant manner. The patterns were difficult to view head on. The hellish screeching and gunfire intensified with each passing moment.
The motley group passed the 1-32 battalion headquarters tent, where the scuffle had taken place minutes prior, and continued increasing the distance between themselves and potential threats.
The further away we are from these trailers, tents, and vehicles, the better.
They moved further from the firebase, veering in a northerly direction, toward the sound of the whirring helicopter blades. They were moving through an open field, which made Trent uncomfortable.
This is a fucking mess.
Another radiant flash filled the sky. More screeching could be heard. The entity intermittently flashed out into the darkness.
Oh shit
!
After one of the entity’s illuminating flashes, the horrible, high-pitched sounds began again, this time from the tents along the path. In the distance, one of the rear flaps of a platoon lodging tent opened, exposing a low light from within. Out of the tent stumbled a squad-sized element of soldiers in varying states of dress and armament. Their movements were haphazard and they appeared intoxicated. One of the unarmed men pointed at Trent from across the open area. “HYOOOOSSSS!” the man screeched.
What the hell? Did anyone else hear that? Am I going crazy? Is that one of those things from last night?
“We can’t take an entire brigade. Run!” Trent was aware that Martin and Callie were bogged down with the weight of the casualties.
Fuckin come on guys, move it!
More flaps opened as more soldiers spilled out onto the opposite side of the field the group was trying to cross. The soldiers stumbled over each other as they ambled toward the growing group in jerky, unnatural motions.
Trent noticed a parking lot filled with shipping containers a hundred meters away.
Thank god, perfect
.
“Everyone, on me!” He ran to the nearest shipping container and oriented his carbine toward the canvas tents on the path, covering everyone else’s movement. By now, the vast majority of the tents’ occupants were shuffling toward the container yard. Many began shooting haphazardly, without aiming. Some even shot themselves and each other in the process.
Trent waved in Sergeant Martin and Callie behind the container. Sergeant Martin was in the zone; he had a look of determination in his eyes to get the young soldier in his care to safety. Callie was doing well given the circumstances; her porcelain skin was barely visible beneath the crusted layer of blood on her face. She was breathing heavily, but kept Jessica’s head cradled close to her shoulder as she whispered comforting sentiments.
Trent spoke in quick, nervous breathes. “Guys, we’re almost there. I can see the flashing lights of the birds up ahead, about three hundred meters out. Callie and Martin, Sam and I are going to cover your movement. Harrison, go with them and pull security. We’ll pick up with the original formation once we put some distance between us and them. Go, now!”
Callie stood without a sound; Sergeant Martin groaned loudly from the exertion. Harrison helped Martin steady the young NCO around his neck and shoulders. It was clear the man was little more than dead weight, completely unaware of his surroundings.