“Oh my god,” says Obie.
Rennin looks back through his scope and sees a swarm of contaminants rushing out of the building. “Run, trooper!”
Rennin focuses on a target and fires a round through its chest killing it instantly. The trooper is scrambling away from a handful of contaminants that are almost on him. Rennin pulls the bolt action back ejecting the empty shell, slides it back and takes another shot, another kill. He ejects another shell, another shot, another kill but there are more piling out of the building.
“Too many,” Rennin says pulling off the bolt mechanism, attaching an assault rifle automatic upper receiver and slamming a full magazine into the underside, all the while staring at the crowd that’s ever growing.
“Sacrificing accuracy for volume, ready to fire,” he says.
Rennin pours out shot after shot, each hitting but not all outright kills. He always hated magazine-fed sniper rifles because they never shoot as straight as the old bolt-action mechanisms, particularly with high calibre rounds.
He takes out one that dives atop the soldier. Bullets are flying out from the other side of the street in a barrage but it’s not stopping the rampaging contaminants. Rennin stops shooting, just watching the sea of bodies running at the gunmen with an increasing amount of ‘Substance 6’ on the scope display.
“What are you doing? Help them!” says Obie. The soldier investigating the original kill has been overrun and can’t even be seen anymore.
The contaminants make it across the street and screams can be heard along with gunfire, but at the sound of tearing flesh and death cries Rennin switches channels back to his own unit,
“Fader, you copy?”
“Longinus! I’ve been trying to reach you!” it is Sabre’s voice.
“I tried to warn the troops on the street but they’re gone,” Rennin says.
“Fader’s dead! The whole unit is gone. Only one from Clone Unit made it back to the gunship.”
Rennin can’t get his head around how fast that just happened. “Orders?”
“A pack of them just ran into the building you’re in—”
Rennin trains his scope to the streets and can see a group back where Horus Unit was taken out all looking towards him with their white eyes. “Jesus, I hate these things,” he says ducking down.
“—they’ll be at your position in moments. Hold them off till Dead Star arrives,” orders Sabre before signing off.
“You heard him. We have to keep the rooftop clear, they won’t land if we’re overrun,” says Rennin. The three of them keep their backs to the ledge and point their guns towards the roof access. Rennin switches to his assault rifle for the closer quarter combat.
Blood droplets strike Rennin’s face seemingly from nowhere. He looks to Obie who has a look of horror on his face, with a huge sword-like claw protruding through his chest. Then he’s gone, pulled over the edge.
Rennin pushes Jawa away from the ledge. “They can climb walls!” he yells, inwardly cursing himself for letting that slip his mind. He should have remembered from his first encounter with the contaminants out the front of the lab.
“Here they come!” calls Jawa, opening fire on the flood of them at the doorway.
Rennin pulls the trigger and nothing happens. He curses, describing a certain mother’s gratuitous fornication with sailors.
“Safety catch, man!”
“Where the fuck is it?” he looks desperately at the side of the gun.
“Other side! Other side!”
Rennin flips the gun over to see the safety catch as plainly as his own ineptitude. He should have known that. It is then he realises he’s holding the gun in his offhand. When did I become left-handed?
He arms the gun just in time for one to leap over the ledge onto the rooftop. Rennin cries out, firing off-balance causing him to fall over. He lets out a yell, willing himself to steady his aim, blasting the thing in the head and the chest but the bullets just don’t look like they’re penetrating. The creature is badly maimed and stumbles back over the ledge, to its death. “Something’s wrong, Jawa, how weak are these bullets?”
“They’re Nexus Arms, should shoot through a tank. These things are strong.” he calls chewing through bullets and mutants alike.
Rennin faces the ledge where others can be heard climbing and snarling. “You right there?”
“For the moment. We’ve got them bottlenecked at the doorway.”
“I’ll cover you,” yells Rennin, shooting any clawed hands he sees gripping the top of the ledge. Insanely, it reminds him of a game he played as a child where you have a hammer and have to hit the alligator heads that pop out of the cave.
“Loading!” calls Jawa.
Fuck! Jawa’s gun needs to have its empty ammo box removed, another refit and the bullet belt placed correctly in the feed tray. It could take twenty seconds to load, maybe more if he fumbles. Rennin swings his weapon around to start firing at the doorway where they storm up one after the other. He hammers one in the head with what must have been ten rounds but it only drops dead when a bullet pierces its eye. He aims lower, tearing through their abdomens, feeling rapture swell within him like a heavenly wave as they collapse from the sheer grievousness of their wounds.
“That’s right, die!” he yells swinging back to the ledge to shoot off a few more clutching hands, and even a face.
“Ready,” calls Jawa climbing to his feet, commencing fire on the doorway.
“Aim for the stomach. If we can’t take them down cleanly we’ll rip ’em apart!”
“Copy that,” says Jawa and the two of them lay down everything they have standing back to back. Rennin picks off the clawing hands and Jawa blows the literal guts out of the ones charging out of the roof access. Red lights suddenly shine down from above. “The gunship.”
Rennin knows gunship lights are blue, not red, and he risks glancing upwards. What he sees sends a chill running down his spine. He shoots a few more contaminants off the ledge and takes a longer look at the object above. “You’re kidding…”
“What is it?” Jawa glances up. “What the hell is that?”
Above there’s a round disc that looks like a slightly closed black flower, the petals are more like claws arcing downwards. At their crux is a glowing red light. “It’s a Desolator satellite!” Rennin calls as the weapon begins charging, causing an updraft strong enough to lift the empty shell casings into the sky.
Dead Star arrives overhead a few seconds later. It blasts the roof access doorway stopping the flow of contaminants. Both Jawa and Rennin swear in happiness but now contaminants are leaping onto the rooftop from all around.
Dead Star settles low enough to board and Rennin yells for them to make a break for it. The two survivors run at the gunship through the now roaring upward wind. Sabre opens both doors on either side to provide some cover fire.
They make it to the gunship with Jawa slamming straight into it, unable to make the climb because of the weight of his weapon. Rennin leaps in cleanly despite his age and the weight of his extra ammo. He shoots a couple of contaminants then reaches down, grabbing Jawa’s vest with his andronic right hand, bracing with his left leg and hoisting the surprised soldier in one handed.
Rennin turns to pilot Bulldog. “Get us out of—” he is cut off by a contaminant diving into the gunship and onto him, throwing his body against the pilot’s seat. A long claw growing out of its wrist is thrust at him. He dodges to the side and it pierces the pilot’s seat behind him. Bulldog cries out.
Fuck!
Rennin removes Drej’s knife, and slashes along its bowel with one smooth stroke. He digs his hand into the wound, grabbing anything he can, ripping it out causing the creature to screech and drop dead.