Categories > Original > Sci-Fi
The Last Battle
2 reviewsThe first in the Apocolypse Chronicles, my collection of short stories
1Exciting
He took one last gulp from the can. Yet another 12 fluid ounce, 355 milliliter container of what he thought of as carbonated caffeine downed. He grabbed another from the box, last one, he thought to himself. That meant eleven Mountain Dews in two hours, couldn't be good on the stomach, but why should he care?
He popped the top and set it next to his extra mags. The radio crackled, just more scouts checking in. he verified contact with each and turned towards the open doorway. From where he was sitting, he could see her sleeping face, resting gently on a couch cushion, her reddish-brown hair falling slightly over her eyes, which twitched every now and then. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Not this hell hole, he thought. He wanted to go to her, just sit by her side until she woke up. But he couldn't, hopefully there would be time later.
He turned back to the rotted, old, glassless window and surveyed the broken up street below him. He looked across the empty void to the 15th floor window of the building opposite him. Tim looked at him over the barrel of his rifle and gave thumbs up with his right hand. The bald man replied with the same gesture and both went back to their scopes.
He held Julia in his hands very gently, placing his finger just outside the trigger guard. His rifle's name was Julia because of the small inscription on the grip, which read, 'JLYA' he had no idea how it got there, or what it meant.
He had fired Julia often, and knew every part of her. There was only one thing in the world he loved more than Julia, and that was the woman walking towards him.
She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed his bald scalp. He smiled, "Good sleep?" she leaned against the corner and shrugged, "As good as it can be anymore, want some coffee?" He looked at her sarcastically, "Oh, yeah, forgot. Well, I'm gonna' make some anyway." She brushed his shoulder again as she walked to the kitchen.
He shifted in his seat, scratched his leg, and reached for his 12th can of 'The Dew'. As he brought it to his lips, he caught sight of Tim in his window across from him, waving frantically. Tim held up a piece of cardboard and pointed at it repeatedly. The bald man put his eye to Julia's scope and aimed at the message, "U HR THT??" He thought for a moment, then pulled out his own cardboard, flimsy from constant use, and wrote, "HR WUT??" He held it high above his head and looked though the scope. Tim wrote something quickly, and held it in front of him. The bald man saw frantic movement behind Tim as he read, "CHG RDO BTRS RTRD!!" He took his face from the weapon and reached for his radio. Sure enough, the battery light was on. He ripped off the yellow square and replaced it with a red one from the charger setting on the desk. Immediately, he heard the screaming.
"Shit, shit, battle stations!"
"Oh my God, get ready!"
"I count five trucks, what looks like 80 troops, three tanks, all comin' down 5th street!"
"Do we know if they're genos?"
"Definitely!"
"Ah, hell. Get ready people. Raptors, remember, officers if possible. Rhinos, be sure to have plenty of reloads. Dogs, stay hidden until Raptors initiate!" he couldn't believe it. He wasn't prepared, how could he have missed so much, how could he have made such a stupid mistake?
"Rebecca, sweetie, ammo!" he screamed. He heard her run across the apartment, suddenly appearing with and enormous box full of weapons and ammo.
"Big?" she gasped.
"Yeah, big," he replied, "take five rockets, bathroom window. When I yell, hit the first tank, then focus and geno groups."
"Gotcha'" she said as she grabbed several long, green, metal objects from the box and ran into the hallway. He could hear them now. The marching was always what he heard first, he just didn't understand how so many people could march exactly in step with one another. Then again, they weren't people were they?
He pulled magazines out of the box and lined them up neatly side-to-side on the desk to his left.
And then they came.
He looked down just as they rounded the corner, their gas masks covering their robotic faces, their helmets, reflecting sunlight back at him, their enormous weapons hanging from their left arms. He scanned the crowd with his scope and spotted a man, sitting atop one of the tanks, talking into a headset and working a computer panel. As lead raptor, it was the bald man's job to initiate contact. When he shot this man, everything would stop for three seconds, giving them a slight advantage. They need a huge one. He took a breath, felt it enter his lungs, held it a moment, and gently pulled his index finger towards him.
The marching stopped, and explosion rang out, then it begun. The genos were quick, they began firing randomly at anything they saw, blowing bits of the ground into the air. "Becca, do it!" he yelled. He watched the path of the rocket until it made contact with the black steel of machinery.
He slammed in another mag and fired rapidly, each shot tearing into the air, each shot finding its way into the metallic skulls of a geno, often two. He hammered them into submission. A rocket flew from the crowd skyward and struck Tim's window. The bald ma didn't even notice the body of his friend soaring through the air. Another mag smacked into Julia, and more genos died. Another rocket launched parallel to the ground, taking out a geno truck.
He was in his zone. The only thing that mattered was the fact that those things down there had killed almost everything he had ever loved, and they needed to feel his pain. Nothing could tear him from this state; nothing could end the death, the destruction, the hurt.
He had been shot many times, but one thing he had never felt was the blast from a robotic tank bent on destroying all humanity. He flew through the hallway into the kitchen, landing on his back. He tried to stand, but found that both his legs were gone, as was his left arm. He turned his head, searching desperately for something, anything, he didn't know what.
Rebecca.
Half of her face was missing, and her legs were bent over her back and around her neck. He stared, and cried. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, and now it all came. He looked at his chest and saw a small, green light, blinking on his radio. He knew what it meant, it meant everyone was gone, if you are still alive, finish it.
The apartment was gone, where it had been there was only open space falling down onto the street. He reached up and felt the small cupboard under the sink. It opened and he grasped a small metal cylinder. He set it on his chest and pushed a small red button on the top. Tiny lights began blinking, when the tenth light lit, it was over. He flung it out into the open air before him as he heard the elevator ascending.
He didn't hear the elevator stop, he didn't hear the genos kick down the door in the next room, he didn't even hear the explosion. The only thing he heard as the nuclear blast tore through his body and destroyed everything within eight miles were the two words he kept repeating over and over in his head.
Finish it.
He popped the top and set it next to his extra mags. The radio crackled, just more scouts checking in. he verified contact with each and turned towards the open doorway. From where he was sitting, he could see her sleeping face, resting gently on a couch cushion, her reddish-brown hair falling slightly over her eyes, which twitched every now and then. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Not this hell hole, he thought. He wanted to go to her, just sit by her side until she woke up. But he couldn't, hopefully there would be time later.
He turned back to the rotted, old, glassless window and surveyed the broken up street below him. He looked across the empty void to the 15th floor window of the building opposite him. Tim looked at him over the barrel of his rifle and gave thumbs up with his right hand. The bald man replied with the same gesture and both went back to their scopes.
He held Julia in his hands very gently, placing his finger just outside the trigger guard. His rifle's name was Julia because of the small inscription on the grip, which read, 'JLYA' he had no idea how it got there, or what it meant.
He had fired Julia often, and knew every part of her. There was only one thing in the world he loved more than Julia, and that was the woman walking towards him.
She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed his bald scalp. He smiled, "Good sleep?" she leaned against the corner and shrugged, "As good as it can be anymore, want some coffee?" He looked at her sarcastically, "Oh, yeah, forgot. Well, I'm gonna' make some anyway." She brushed his shoulder again as she walked to the kitchen.
He shifted in his seat, scratched his leg, and reached for his 12th can of 'The Dew'. As he brought it to his lips, he caught sight of Tim in his window across from him, waving frantically. Tim held up a piece of cardboard and pointed at it repeatedly. The bald man put his eye to Julia's scope and aimed at the message, "U HR THT??" He thought for a moment, then pulled out his own cardboard, flimsy from constant use, and wrote, "HR WUT??" He held it high above his head and looked though the scope. Tim wrote something quickly, and held it in front of him. The bald man saw frantic movement behind Tim as he read, "CHG RDO BTRS RTRD!!" He took his face from the weapon and reached for his radio. Sure enough, the battery light was on. He ripped off the yellow square and replaced it with a red one from the charger setting on the desk. Immediately, he heard the screaming.
"Shit, shit, battle stations!"
"Oh my God, get ready!"
"I count five trucks, what looks like 80 troops, three tanks, all comin' down 5th street!"
"Do we know if they're genos?"
"Definitely!"
"Ah, hell. Get ready people. Raptors, remember, officers if possible. Rhinos, be sure to have plenty of reloads. Dogs, stay hidden until Raptors initiate!" he couldn't believe it. He wasn't prepared, how could he have missed so much, how could he have made such a stupid mistake?
"Rebecca, sweetie, ammo!" he screamed. He heard her run across the apartment, suddenly appearing with and enormous box full of weapons and ammo.
"Big?" she gasped.
"Yeah, big," he replied, "take five rockets, bathroom window. When I yell, hit the first tank, then focus and geno groups."
"Gotcha'" she said as she grabbed several long, green, metal objects from the box and ran into the hallway. He could hear them now. The marching was always what he heard first, he just didn't understand how so many people could march exactly in step with one another. Then again, they weren't people were they?
He pulled magazines out of the box and lined them up neatly side-to-side on the desk to his left.
And then they came.
He looked down just as they rounded the corner, their gas masks covering their robotic faces, their helmets, reflecting sunlight back at him, their enormous weapons hanging from their left arms. He scanned the crowd with his scope and spotted a man, sitting atop one of the tanks, talking into a headset and working a computer panel. As lead raptor, it was the bald man's job to initiate contact. When he shot this man, everything would stop for three seconds, giving them a slight advantage. They need a huge one. He took a breath, felt it enter his lungs, held it a moment, and gently pulled his index finger towards him.
The marching stopped, and explosion rang out, then it begun. The genos were quick, they began firing randomly at anything they saw, blowing bits of the ground into the air. "Becca, do it!" he yelled. He watched the path of the rocket until it made contact with the black steel of machinery.
He slammed in another mag and fired rapidly, each shot tearing into the air, each shot finding its way into the metallic skulls of a geno, often two. He hammered them into submission. A rocket flew from the crowd skyward and struck Tim's window. The bald ma didn't even notice the body of his friend soaring through the air. Another mag smacked into Julia, and more genos died. Another rocket launched parallel to the ground, taking out a geno truck.
He was in his zone. The only thing that mattered was the fact that those things down there had killed almost everything he had ever loved, and they needed to feel his pain. Nothing could tear him from this state; nothing could end the death, the destruction, the hurt.
He had been shot many times, but one thing he had never felt was the blast from a robotic tank bent on destroying all humanity. He flew through the hallway into the kitchen, landing on his back. He tried to stand, but found that both his legs were gone, as was his left arm. He turned his head, searching desperately for something, anything, he didn't know what.
Rebecca.
Half of her face was missing, and her legs were bent over her back and around her neck. He stared, and cried. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, and now it all came. He looked at his chest and saw a small, green light, blinking on his radio. He knew what it meant, it meant everyone was gone, if you are still alive, finish it.
The apartment was gone, where it had been there was only open space falling down onto the street. He reached up and felt the small cupboard under the sink. It opened and he grasped a small metal cylinder. He set it on his chest and pushed a small red button on the top. Tiny lights began blinking, when the tenth light lit, it was over. He flung it out into the open air before him as he heard the elevator ascending.
He didn't hear the elevator stop, he didn't hear the genos kick down the door in the next room, he didn't even hear the explosion. The only thing he heard as the nuclear blast tore through his body and destroyed everything within eight miles were the two words he kept repeating over and over in his head.
Finish it.
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