From the Ashes Page 17

  “I did not,” he offered up after a few moments, not bothering to ask me to fill him in. He just clammed back up.

  “A bunch of the Genos were armed, Dee.”

  “That is what happens in war, Michael.”

  “Yeah, Dee, but if you stopped and thought about it for a second, where in the hell did they get all those weapons? Those aren’t old shotguns they were slinging around. Those were state-of-the-art Progerian war-machine firearms.

  Dee stopped. “Someone is supplying them.”

  “It’s like I said, someone wants them on the war path—someone with contacts either at the armament factories or on the Guardian. Either way, Paul has some serious problems.”

  “We need to move further away. We are being followed.”

  “Really? I somehow missed the fact that huge Genos are pursuing us?” I asked, turning around but seeing nothing. I may have seen a shadow but it felt more like I’d imagined it to make it seem that I wasn’t completely unaware.

  “They will follow us until night descends, thereby honoring Jurtillion’s request.”

  “That’s not really even straddling the line, that’s just plain shitty. How many are there?” I once again turned around as fast as I could in an attempt to catch one in mid-stride out in the open.

  “At least ten.”

  “How the hell can you tell?” We both had rifles, but outnumbered ten to two was not odds one could take lightly.

  “I do not like this, Michael. I will fight them tonight to honor my pact with you and to also preserve my own life. However, going forward should we survive I cannot participate in this upcoming war in any manner. I will not fight with or against my people.”

  “I get that, Dee. Let’s just try to focus on getting through the night and we’ll talk after.”

  “My stance cannot change.”

  I didn’t say anything else—what was there to offer? If the roles were reversed and I was on his planet I most assuredly could not fight against other humans no matter the situation. I’d also have a problem with the not joining up with them aspect. I’d known for a long time that Dee had a much higher functioning moral compass. I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it, though. I’m sure he was on par with Gandhi in that respect. We were at least five miles out of the Geno settlement by the time the sun set. Definitely far enough to not be considered in the territory. Still it was no surprise when that first shot came our way. It wasn’t particularly close, but then again how close do you want projectiles to be?

  We’d stopped a half an hour before sunset when we realized we weren’t going to lose our tail. We found a small depression in the ground and expanded it. I’d rifled through an abandoned car earlier on our trek and grabbed a tire iron. It was perfect in breaking up the soil and Dee, with his powerful arms, was able to claw it away. By the time we were done, it was big enough for Dee and I to lie down comfortably. We had a slight rise around the entire rim. It was a pretty decent fighting hole for the limited amount of time spent building it.

  “We really didn’t think this through,” I told Dee as I rested my rifle on the berm. “Didn’t bring a radio or tell our driver to come back and get us.”

  “Perhaps we should have planned a contingency, but I would not have predicted this outcome.”

  My body hurt and my cheek was throbbing. It burned so hotly it felt like someone was holding a lighter to it. I fought my way through the aches and pains, keeping still as I waited for the first Geno to expose himself. The sun had just set in front of me, the glare of it no longer affecting my shot. A Geno rose from the ground, nearly invisible, camouflaged perfectly in what I can only describe as a Geno version of a gilly suit. It’s basically a net with fauna from whatever area you are in fitted through the weaves. It wasn’t going to save this particular Geno, but damn.

  I fired, the bolt illuminating his shocked features. I was a little to the left. That side of his face melted away under the assault of the round. I thought about asking Dee if wind and distance affected the shot but thought better of it as he was deep in prayer. I had to imagine that would give the Genos pause before they considered an all-out assault.

  “One down, nine to go,” I muttered just as Dee’s barrel rested next to mine. “You alright?”

  “Not at all,” he answered honestly.

  For the briefest of insane moments I almost let him off the hook and told him he should go. I don’t think he would have, but that point zero zero one percent was still entirely too high.

  The Genos had fanned out, intense firing heading our way, but again, not really too close. They had an idea where we were but not an exact location yet.

  Two more Genos exposed themselves and two more Genos got to meet their maker. I noticed Dee’s first few shots were high, as in warning. The only thing that was going to dissuade them from their present course of action was death, and I let him know that.

  There were now three dead and at least two wounded, hopefully dying. Dee had gone from shooting high to shooting wide. He’d winged a couple of the Genos, but this wasn’t a pellet gun round. Getting brushed by a Geno rifle could still kill you or sever a limb.

  “Dee, man, they’re playing for keeps. You’re a better shot than I am. You can ask for forgiveness later.”

  Rounds increased in tempo and by this time they had a pretty good idea where we were. Dee and I both pulled back into the deeper part of the depression as dirt and gravel was blown all around us from the impacts. I was staring up at the night sky, my rifle on my chest, with Dee in the same position.

  “Did you think it would end like this?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Yeah, me too, I guess. Although, in reality, we all want to go out in our sleep or maybe have a huge heart attack while we’re having sex. Wait, is that just me? Don’t look at me that way.”

  We lay like that for another ten minutes, the barrage constant.

  “Something is up.” My danger radar was beginning to register. “They haven’t stopped firing. For all they know they could have killed us when they began. I would think at some point they would cease fire for a minute just to see if we return fire. Or...”

  “This is covering fire.” Dee rolled quickly to his side of the hole and looked.

  I followed suit. There was nothing on my side. The beauty of the Geno discharge was that it was lighting up the battlefield pretty well. I turned to see how Dee was doing and saw his rifle was shaking. There was a Geno not more than fifteen feet from our hole. Dee had him dead to rights, but he wasn’t firing and the Geno wasn’t moving.

  “Dee?”

  No response.

  The Geno was moving as slowly as possible while trying to get his rifle into a firing position.

  “Dee!” I said forcibly.

  “I heard you the first time,” he growled.

  The Geno saw his opportunity and took it, bringing up his rifle. I spun and pulled the trigger as fast as I could. The first came dangerously close to Dee as I brought the rifle higher, “walking” a trio of rounds into the dancing Geno’s body, his only shot stopped by the earth halfway between him and us. Dee sagged down, resting his head on his rifle. I clapped his shoulder and got back down. He followed.

  The shots slowed in frequency but did not stop. It seemed at this point we were going to try and starve one another out of our positions. The sun was going to be up in a few hours, I wasn’t overly hopeful of what the dawning of the new day would bring. Dee hadn’t said anything since I’d shot that Geno. It was like I was alone and I wasn’t fond of the sensation.

  “I think we should try and leave right before dawn,” I told Dee. “Historically that is when an enemy is at his least alert.”

  “It is already too late.”

  “Don’t go getting all philosophical on me, your Cravaratar can still be saved.”

  “No, the soldiers will have sent someone back for reinforcements once they realized they could not kill us as easily as they’d hoped.”

  “You just fi
gure that out?” I asked as I scurried up, quickly scanning the area for any signs of a vast army besieging our location. There was nothing, at least nothing I could see. I slid down and looked over at Dee. “You didn’t just think about that. You’ve held onto that thought for a while now, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “Listen, Dee, just because you either made peace or have a death wish doesn’t mean I want to go down either of those paths with you.”

  “I am sorry, Michael. You are right. I should have told you about my suspicions much sooner.”

  “Dammit. We have to go now.” I thought Dee was going to resist and I’m not sure what I would have done at that point. It wasn’t like I could drag him. I was on the fence. I don’t know if I would have left him there or not. Thankfully he didn’t allow me to make that decision. He crawled out the back of the depression. I low-crawled about twenty or so feet off to the right of our hole before standing in a crouch. When Dee was up, I ran. We made some pretty good distance and with no shots coming our way I was feeling good about our chances, especially when just as the sun was beginning to make its ascent we came up on the outskirts of a small town.

  I was saddened somewhat when I realized it was abandoned, whether from the initial Progerian attack or the subsequent settling of the Genogerians in the area. It mattered little. I slowed to a walk as we came up on a gas station, then a post office. A small church and meeting hall were the only other structures of significance.

  “Not like they were leaving much behind,” I said aloud, but it was more of an internal thought.

  “All of these buildings are stick built,” Dee said.

  The implication was easy enough; the blue bolts caused fire. “They’re still following?” I turned.

  “They will.”

  “Where’s a good armory when you need one?” I was losing hope. I was hungry, tired, my body ached and I’m pretty sure my cheek was burning with infection. It was only a matter of time until I was seriously compromised with a heavy-duty fever and the weakness accompanying it. “Well, buddy, I can’t say I’m really all that ready to die, but going out in a church seems like the right thing to do.”

  He nodded. The church had been looted of anything of value; the pews were stacked in the center as if in preparation of a bon fire. Not sure if someone thought better of lighting a place of God on fire or just couldn’t find a match. I walked over to the window facing the way we had come. The sun had bridged the horizon and it was easier than hell to see the line of Geno soldiers approaching. Had to have been hundreds.

  “Well, that’s a good old fashioned screwing.”

  Dee came up to view what I was looking at. Would he shoot at all? I mean really, what was the point? The conclusion was foregone. Each kill for him now just brought him further away from his inner peace. The Genos were still a good five hundred yards out. Even still, missing them was impossible because there were just too many of them. But the sooner I shot the sooner they realized our location and began to fire back. Dee went to a window about ten feet from mine. He busted out the glass, crouched down and placed the barrel of his weapon on the sill. I guess that answered that question.

  “It’s been an honor, Dee,” I said as I also broke out my window. I wondered if the Genos could hear that from the distance they were at. Then I realized how loud an army on the move could be, the heavy footfalls, the worried breathing, the small murmurs among friends, weaponry scraping against clothing. I could probably belt out “Holly Holy” by Neil Diamond right now and they wouldn’t hear it. Didn’t seem quite fair to Dee, though, if I did that. My singing had been equated to dying cats in heat.

  “That is not the first time you have said that to me, Michael, and perchance it may not be the last.”

  “Well, if it is a good luck omen you can guarantee I’ll use it again. It would, however, be nice if it was on my death bed, say some seventy or eighty years from now, surrounded by my family and friends and you.”

  Dee looked over at me, arching his eyebrow ridge. We waited until they were about two hundred yards away. Easy enough shots that, at least, in Dee’s case did not allow for any distinction in facial features. I hoped for his sake they looked like cardboard targets. Return fire was instantaneous, glass from other windows blowing out all around us. I smelled smoke as the first licks of flame took hold.

  “This is kind of like the Alamo.” My mouth sometimes engages before my brain.

  “That did not end so well for the side I would think you imagine to be on.”

  “No I guess not, but all these years later people still know who Davy Crockett was. Maybe my name will be said with the same reverence.”

  “You will care nothing of that legacy once you are dead.”

  “I haven’t really thought this through. I’d mostly intended on finishing a picture puzzle today of the Disney castle.”

  The Genos knew what they were up against. Two versus an army, they weren’t overly concerned, this I knew because they were sprinting towards us. Not an iota of caution in any of them. Our time left was measured in seconds. It was the stomping of so many feet on ground that at first masked the sound of traditional fire. The brass falling from the sky looked like it was down-pouring metal. We had air support and they weren’t fucking around. The only thing I’d seen that could fire at that rate were mini-guns mounted on helicopters. At nearly a hundred rounds a second, they were devastating.

  For all the pluses of the alien rifle, nearly unlimited ammunition and low to no serviceability, it had some major drawbacks. First off as a human weapon, it was heavy. The original design was close to thirty pounds. It had since been reengineered to be just under twenty but any foot soldier will tell you that’s twelve pounds too heavy. Most of that heft was the power supply needed to charge the bolt. Another drawback was the system could only be fired as fast as the trigger could be pulled. There was a nanosecond between pulls as the rifle charged back up, so making it into a fully automatic rifle was impossible. Trust me, there were enough blown up labs around the world to attest to that fact. Every effort to tweak the system had failed, it would overheat and blow up much like the rifle would when the feedback was reversed. It was a brilliant weapon but it had its limits. I’d been to a class on it but once I realized we wouldn’t be shooting anything I’d zoned out and basically doodled the entire time.

  What I had learned was that it could never achieve the devastation that was raining down from above. Genos were falling in vast swaths as the gun laid them to waste. They were still firing but they were also pulling back.

  “Colonel Talbot?” A voice came from above.

  “I didn’t think God would address me by rank,” I said to Dee. I was so happy my cheeks hurt from smiling.

  Dee was not feeling of the same ilk as he watched the Genos get cut down like wheat.

  “Mike, get your ass out in the open so we can pick you up!”

  “Looks like the General came down to say hi. I’m telling him this was all your idea.” I hadn’t realized it but the entire top half of the church was engulfed in flames. When the shuttle crew saw me they immediately landed in the roadway. Dee came out a few moments later, head hanging low. The machinegun operator was waving us on. I hopped on board, for a second I thought Dee was going to stay. He looked at me and then back toward the Geno line that was reforming.

  The shuttle was about a foot off the ground when Dee hopped in; we dipped down to that side. I grabbed his arm as the shuttle rocketed straight up. An alarm blared.

  “We’re being painted!” the gunner yelled.

  Dee looked at me confused as the statement made no sense to him.

  “Anti-aircraft.”

  That he got.

  Paul was absolutely glowering at me but he was going to have to wait to see if we survived before he chewed me a new one.

  “Buckle up, evasive action!” the pilot turned to let us know. The gunner’s door closed. As the shuttle turned at forty-five degrees, I felt significant g-force as he must have had the pedal to
the metal. That’s all figurative, I don’t really know if there’s a pedal or not. I think at one time we were upside down. It was tough to get my bearings as I was doing my best to make sure my internal organs didn’t come flooding out of my mouth. The alarm, which was already at ear splitting decibels, sped up as whatever was shot at us was gaining. We were pushed violently to the left as we were struck. Thankfully, the alarm stopped. Then I realized that was because all systems had failed. We’d basically become a brick, a very fragile brick, very high up in the air.

  The ship began to plummet towards the earth ass first. I would gladly have screamed if I could have pulled in enough air to do so. My stomach felt like it was being squeezed in a big greasy fist. We were going to crush like a beer can under the heel of a heavy boot. At least now Paul was alternating between glowering at me and being pissed off at our predicament. There was one positive to come from our crash.

  “Brace for impact!” The gunner shouted. “In five...” He held up his hand with fingers extended.

  I thought he had either balls of steel or marbles in his fucking head. Bracing for impact was like a nice way of telling us to kiss our asses goodbye. Plus, I knew we were about to die—he didn’t have to fucking announce it with a countdown.

  “...four.”

  There was a half ‘braaap’ as the alarm kicked in for a millisecond.

  “...three.” A small light came on over Dee’s head and then winked out.

  “...two.” Passed without a glimmer of hope.

  On ‘one’ I flipped the bird. I figured to go out in style. Everything suddenly kicked on, the alarm deafening after the total quietness of free falling. The engine whined like a spoiled brat leaving a toy store empty handed. We still hit the ground with a significant thump, but nothing like the crushing blow we’d all been expecting. The rear right split open, dirt and debris swirling about all of us as the pilot attempted to regain control. I could feel as the ship tipped forward, we were once again horizontal. We weren’t more than two or three feet off the ground and by the way the pilot was moving rapidly, twisting dials and punching buttons it was easy enough to tell he had not regained control. Power yes, control no. We were listing heavily to the side that had struck the ground. And by the screeching of rock on metal I could tell we were scraping the ground. Although, out of all the problems we were looking at, at that very moment stripped paint was the least of them. We were approaching a good-sized town and some very solid looking three to five story buildings.