The Rift
Screams in the distance faded away. Mike shivered in the thicket of young maple trees; seedlings barely a yard tall with wet leaves on the ends of the small branches.
The soldiers were coming from behind. Mike had watched, hidden in the cleft of the cliff, while they came to the robots. By then they had known exactly what was was going on, of course. One of them casually took out his pistol and put bullets through the mechanical heads of each one. And then they stood in a ring and talked for a moment, while Mike counted fifteen of them. Twelve wearing the Quelnine camo uniform, and three who were probably dirt-soldiers.
Mike had wondered for umpteenth time why they didn't just rig the ground around the bots with explsoives, but he already knew. They didn't want any more blood on their hands than was necessary. After a couple minutes, four from the group had starting walking up toward the dusty cliffside, while the rest had headed back to the city.
And now, here was Mike, nestled in the wet leaves, and hoping to hell the soldiers didn't find him. In the original plan, he was supposed to notify Miley or Davis that he was being followed, and then head back to camp. Only now, he couldn't very well do that; he'd heard the horrible sounds in the background of his radio when Miley was cut off minutes earlier. And now, he couldn't get ahold of anyone to notify, anyways. Not even the SIS members were answering.
"And I'm not sure if that's good or bad." Mike whispered to himself.
Suddenly, there was the sound of rustling through the rain. Then voices.
"I say we turn back, Larry."
A dirt soldier's voice, if Mike had ever heard one.
"We were ordered by the captain to find these sneaky little pricks, and that's what we're going to do."
"Yeah, but don't it seem like a trap to you? I mean, they must've known we was gonna do this. I kept thinki'n we'd get sniped!"
Then a third voice came; more cultured.
"And those screams? What were those screams?"
"Look, you two idiots; you can either help us do this job, or I'll shoot you. End of story. I'd be free of your bickering, and I doubt the captin would mind."
"What's this?" said the fourth voice.
Shit. They had found his trail.
"What is it?"
"Well, Larry, it looks to me like we've got him. See for yourself."
There was the sound of soft bootfalls on the ground, as Larry walked over.
"Ahh. He damn-near cut a path right through the weeds, didn't he? Hell, I can even see a couple bootprints -- look."
Mike listened in agony as they drew closer, through the wind and the lightning and the rain. A couple long yards from his hideout. What could he have done, though? The ground was muddy, and there were weeds everywhere in this fucking woodside.
He cocked the back of his small pistol, he slid it from its holster. Maybe he'd manage to take one of them with him.
"He can'tve gone far."
"What they hell can'tve he?" asked Larry.
"I don't know."
"Well then why the hell did you say it?"
"I don't know... I just don't think he's gone far."
"No, you said it because you heard it in a damned movie or something. He could be as much as mile away by now."
"We'll get him, though." said Voice Four.
"Well yeah," said Larry. "They've gotta have a checkpoint out here somewhere, of course."
They kept walking, drawing in until they were only about five yards away from where Mike lay, hidden in the branches of the small trees.
Suddenly, there was a screching cry in the woods, like a baby dinasour. Mike couldn't see anything, but he heard the soldiers lift their weapons, and he heard the fast movement, as sticks cracked and leaves pattered in the wood.
"What the fuck is tha -- ?"
The man's breath fell short in his mouth.
Then there was chaos.
Guns began to fire rapidly, as whatever was out there approached. And then the rhythm of gnashing and tearing, with screams on the offbeat. Mike's heart sharted beating rapidly and his breath caught in his throat.
More gunshots. And then a hard thud, as something larger than a man hit the ground.
"Oh shit," it was the man Larry had been getting fed up with. "Holy fucking shit." Mike waited, trying to be as silent as possible, while he listened to the man limp away. The man wept and mumbled phrases to himself like "Ah! Fuck that hurts!" and "Oh shit." until he could be heard no more.
When Mike was sure he was gone, he sat up.
He thought of what Calvin had said to him.
"If anything happens... get out... Don't hesitate!"
He fought his way out of the wiry seedlings and observed the ground around him. In the darkness, he could see the weeds and the ground were covered with a dark liquid. Blood, no doubt. Five shapes on the cliffside floor. Two of them corpses of the soldiers, one of them a torso, one of them a pair of shattered legs, and one of them something that Mike had never seen before. In the dark of the night, it looked to be shaped like a very thin man, but taller. Longer limbs, too.
Mike was tempted to use his pocket light on it, but fought the urge. Then lightning flashed in the wood, offering him a much better view than he'd hoped for, and he immediately regretted it.
What the fuck is it?!
He'd never seen anything like it before. A dark face with jaws hanging from the upper lip. Mike turned away from the dark shape, holding his face in his hand. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened to the Rock Bottom Rebels on the upper cliff, now.
He stood for a moment, just like that. Face in his hand. Thinking.
And he probably could get out now. The checkpoint wasn't safe, but he could probably make it back to camp, get on a four-wheeler and ride to headquarters. Maybe visit his sister. It would be easy.
Except it wouldn't. He and Calvin had become good friends over the past two years. Hell, he had become good friends with almost everyone in the unit. If he left now, he 'd have an empty place in his heart the rest of life.
"You're an idiot," he said, finally. "But you're a little braver than I always imagined; there's that, at least."
Then, he began to walk back down the new trail that he and the Quelnine soldiers had made during their game of hide-and-seek. Within seconds, the rain swallowed him up.
The soldiers were coming from behind. Mike had watched, hidden in the cleft of the cliff, while they came to the robots. By then they had known exactly what was was going on, of course. One of them casually took out his pistol and put bullets through the mechanical heads of each one. And then they stood in a ring and talked for a moment, while Mike counted fifteen of them. Twelve wearing the Quelnine camo uniform, and three who were probably dirt-soldiers.
Mike had wondered for umpteenth time why they didn't just rig the ground around the bots with explsoives, but he already knew. They didn't want any more blood on their hands than was necessary. After a couple minutes, four from the group had starting walking up toward the dusty cliffside, while the rest had headed back to the city.
And now, here was Mike, nestled in the wet leaves, and hoping to hell the soldiers didn't find him. In the original plan, he was supposed to notify Miley or Davis that he was being followed, and then head back to camp. Only now, he couldn't very well do that; he'd heard the horrible sounds in the background of his radio when Miley was cut off minutes earlier. And now, he couldn't get ahold of anyone to notify, anyways. Not even the SIS members were answering.
"And I'm not sure if that's good or bad." Mike whispered to himself.
Suddenly, there was the sound of rustling through the rain. Then voices.
"I say we turn back, Larry."
A dirt soldier's voice, if Mike had ever heard one.
"We were ordered by the captain to find these sneaky little pricks, and that's what we're going to do."
"Yeah, but don't it seem like a trap to you? I mean, they must've known we was gonna do this. I kept thinki'n we'd get sniped!"
Then a third voice came; more cultured.
"And those screams? What were those screams?"
"Look, you two idiots; you can either help us do this job, or I'll shoot you. End of story. I'd be free of your bickering, and I doubt the captin would mind."
"What's this?" said the fourth voice.
Shit. They had found his trail.
"What is it?"
"Well, Larry, it looks to me like we've got him. See for yourself."
There was the sound of soft bootfalls on the ground, as Larry walked over.
"Ahh. He damn-near cut a path right through the weeds, didn't he? Hell, I can even see a couple bootprints -- look."
Mike listened in agony as they drew closer, through the wind and the lightning and the rain. A couple long yards from his hideout. What could he have done, though? The ground was muddy, and there were weeds everywhere in this fucking woodside.
He cocked the back of his small pistol, he slid it from its holster. Maybe he'd manage to take one of them with him.
"He can'tve gone far."
"What they hell can'tve he?" asked Larry.
"I don't know."
"Well then why the hell did you say it?"
"I don't know... I just don't think he's gone far."
"No, you said it because you heard it in a damned movie or something. He could be as much as mile away by now."
"We'll get him, though." said Voice Four.
"Well yeah," said Larry. "They've gotta have a checkpoint out here somewhere, of course."
They kept walking, drawing in until they were only about five yards away from where Mike lay, hidden in the branches of the small trees.
Suddenly, there was a screching cry in the woods, like a baby dinasour. Mike couldn't see anything, but he heard the soldiers lift their weapons, and he heard the fast movement, as sticks cracked and leaves pattered in the wood.
"What the fuck is tha -- ?"
The man's breath fell short in his mouth.
Then there was chaos.
Guns began to fire rapidly, as whatever was out there approached. And then the rhythm of gnashing and tearing, with screams on the offbeat. Mike's heart sharted beating rapidly and his breath caught in his throat.
More gunshots. And then a hard thud, as something larger than a man hit the ground.
"Oh shit," it was the man Larry had been getting fed up with. "Holy fucking shit." Mike waited, trying to be as silent as possible, while he listened to the man limp away. The man wept and mumbled phrases to himself like "Ah! Fuck that hurts!" and "Oh shit." until he could be heard no more.
When Mike was sure he was gone, he sat up.
He thought of what Calvin had said to him.
"If anything happens... get out... Don't hesitate!"
He fought his way out of the wiry seedlings and observed the ground around him. In the darkness, he could see the weeds and the ground were covered with a dark liquid. Blood, no doubt. Five shapes on the cliffside floor. Two of them corpses of the soldiers, one of them a torso, one of them a pair of shattered legs, and one of them something that Mike had never seen before. In the dark of the night, it looked to be shaped like a very thin man, but taller. Longer limbs, too.
Mike was tempted to use his pocket light on it, but fought the urge. Then lightning flashed in the wood, offering him a much better view than he'd hoped for, and he immediately regretted it.
What the fuck is it?!
He'd never seen anything like it before. A dark face with jaws hanging from the upper lip. Mike turned away from the dark shape, holding his face in his hand. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened to the Rock Bottom Rebels on the upper cliff, now.
He stood for a moment, just like that. Face in his hand. Thinking.
And he probably could get out now. The checkpoint wasn't safe, but he could probably make it back to camp, get on a four-wheeler and ride to headquarters. Maybe visit his sister. It would be easy.
Except it wouldn't. He and Calvin had become good friends over the past two years. Hell, he had become good friends with almost everyone in the unit. If he left now, he 'd have an empty place in his heart the rest of life.
"You're an idiot," he said, finally. "But you're a little braver than I always imagined; there's that, at least."
Then, he began to walk back down the new trail that he and the Quelnine soldiers had made during their game of hide-and-seek. Within seconds, the rain swallowed him up.