“Here, take my hand.” I look up, this time it’s Julian.
“Where you been?” says Vance. The mass of soldiers grow around us as more move forward with the assaulting vehicles.
“I found cover with Blake behind some tank,” says Julian. I grab his hand and rise steadily to my feet. “Thankfully the bombardment ended and we moved again.”
“We were held up in a Goliath—hey now that I think about it, what happened to Ray?” says Isaac.
Julian looks at me, “Shitty day, why isn’t Ray with you guys?”
I just want to stay here. I don’t want to move. My head won’t stop hurting. What is happening to me? Dead, all of them dead! I choose to follow the crowd, and we jog again with the advancing wave, my stomach cursing me with every footstep.
What happened to Ray? I feel my eyes go warm and blurry. They, Jesus, they killed him.
“Those fuckers!” says Julian after looking at me. “Look at what they’ve done to us. Once we make it through the screen the Herc’s will regret being here.”
I need Buzz again. Why has it worn off? What is wrong with me? The smoke screen we are nearing grows closer. Herculean fire leaps out at us. I am going to die! I can’t do this without Buzz. I press my dosage control. I may get in trouble for it, but I don’t know what else there is to do.
He made the right choice. Peter takes the lead of his group and yells, “For Ray!” They shout in agreement, and continue with the advance.
“The smoke screen is moving up,” says Julian. The earlier wall of smoke that they ran through dissipates, and the skeleton of the city outskirts can be seen. A second trench with destroyed barricades lining its sides becomes visible. The remnants of the assault rally around and inside the trench as the new screen forms meters ahead of it.
They join the hastily made trenches for cover, and peer towards the smoke. In the gap of land between their trench and the new screen, Peter can see the shapes of strange bodies in baggy outfits. Their armor is a pale shade similar to ash, and their under-exoskeleton suits are a dark drab. He grabs Vance and Isaac’s arms to show them. “Those are the Herculeans!” he says. Others point and jeer as they view their deceased adversaries from the trench lines. Little details can be made about them from their distance beside vague aesthetics—they are no doubt hideous though.
A marine hops out of the trench despite plasma fire still zipping at them, and runs to a Herculean body in a zig-zag style to dodge the rounds. He grabs one of their alien weapons raising it over his head in triumphant accomplishment while comrades cheer and praise him. As he runs back to cover he is struck dead by a plasma burst and the adulation stops. Pity, he was a brave one.
Surviving APC’s—armored troop carries with gun platforms on top—and other fighting vehicles from the assault, move up to assist the new front line. A group of A-10 Warthogs fly over the trench pounding the outskirts with their awesome repeating nose cannons and missiles. Fire begins to raise among the outskirt ruins bright enough to be seen through the smoke screen. Most of the Herculean fire ceases for the moment.
Easy squad’s earpieces tingle with a muffled voice. Soon it’s clear enough to understand what it says, “Love Platoon, reform on me.” They look at their arm pads. A digital arrow points them in the direction of their Captain. They shuffle pass the crowded trench of brothers ducking to doge Herculean fire. Parallel to the trench, is a fury explosions and tooth rattling vibrations as the Warthogs pound the city outskirts in unison with the artillery. The smoke screen swathes back and forth between the trench and the outskirts as mortars pump new smoke canisters to maintain the veil of cover.
Julian points at a roughed up officer ordering men, “Its Tarnus.”
Peter looks at his arm pad. The arrow is large indicating they are within meters of him. They cover the last stretch of trench to reach the rest of Love. Support units began to set up their machineguns against sandbags in anticipation for the assault on the urban terrain. The trench is a swarm of blue helmets, their rifles lying against the top of the parapets readying themselves for when the smoke screen subsides. Easy reaches Sergeant Blake, kneeling with his XM against his lap and face plastered to his radio. Tommy and Vick lie against the dirt wall behind him with Tarnus and others from Love farther down the trench.
“Shit, you’re all still alive?” says Vick. They hurdle about Blake. Smoke wisps flood in from the dissipating screen. Herculean plasma and laser bursts continue about overhead. Another sortie of A-10’s roar down against the outskirts, interrupting the conversation as their rapid nose cannons spits phosphorus against targets.
“Thanks for the words of hope,” says Isaac.
“Where were you guys when the salvos fell?” Vick continues, “I was stuck with these fuckers unfortunately.”
“Hiding in a shell hole with Peter and some others,” says Vance.
“Then I found them as we moved,” says Julian.
“Where’s Alex, Rommel, Ray?” says Tommy.
“Ray was killed by the Herc’s,” says Julian. “No idea about the rest, hopefully not dead.”
“I wonder who will get promoted now that Kaiden is gone,” says Vick.
“It won’t be you,” says Isaac.
Before Vick replies, Blake breaks in, “Now shut up all of you, we’re in a goddamn warzone. We’re down an officer and Jonathon is injured, so missing three still in our unit.”
“Ray is dead too,” says Peter.
“Damn, so three are dead, two MIA.” Then Alex bumps in between Vick and Tommy. “Good god, there you are Private.”
“I walked down the whole trench looking for you guys,” says Alex. “Just followed my arrow till I got here,”
“So two, three casualties, and one MIA, Rommel.” Blake recites the news to his radio. “We are still better off in comparison to the rest of our Platoon. Alpha, Charlie, and Delta squad have been completely wiped out. Just leaving Bravo, us, and some of Foxtrot and Golf.” Blake turns to his radio to hear further news, “and the Major General just gave his orders, we are advancing momentarily.”
The smoke screen has almost cleared by now. A final barrage from Coalition artillery rattles the earth and outskirts in front of them. Plaster floats in the air among the smoke, and mix with the falling ash caking the humans. Colossal black clouds from the smoke form above the city, and shade the army in a gothic hue for impending liturgy.
Peter’s visor is splattered with earth and he ducks deeper into the trench. A marine next to him seizers about till he succumbs to the plasma bolt that blew his right shoulder off. Peter’s visor wiper clears away the dirt. Herculean fire increases elsewhere, and is more precise at finding humans. The smoke screen is gone, and Peter can see their figures poking out from cover.
“Contact! Left Street!” says Tarnus. The temporary lull of peace is over. Herculean fire whirrs towards the trench, while support crews open up with their LMG’s and rocket launchers on the targeted Herculeans. Soon, the outskirts are alive in a fully engaged firefight between the Herculeans and Coalition troopers, all of them only a hundred meters away from each other. Elsewhere, along the rubble and desolated streets, additional Herculean fire breaks out. Blue and purple streaks smack into humans blowing away exit holes through flesh and scorching limbs.
“Medic!” cries someone. His request is echoed as more men fall. The trench of warriors comes alive with movement and gunfire as additional troops make it into the fray. The warriors lean against the trench parapets shoulder to shoulder with the next man, their rifles ablaze at the outskirts of ruble and cover that the Herculeans hide behind.