targeted by the flash. An enemy
helmet bursts from an HE round. I hear a much larger caliber gun
bang from our line—that would be the Ghaddar. She’s somewhere way
up-slope and forward, firing down on our attackers.
Another of my targets gets taken by an arrow
first.
Then our shelters explode. Grenade.
I shift my scope down-slope, see a fire team of
Keepers moving up on us. I put a round through one, but then
another lobs a grenade at us. Straker manages to swat it back at
them.
“Move back!” she orders us. “Now! I can cover
you!”
No.
That’s the first thing that flashes through my head.
I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m already locking another Keeper,
and shoot him clean through the visor. And another. I’m totally
clear, totally focused, but also totally flooded with rage and I
don’t know why. But running is no option. Every one of these
animals has to die. Every one…
“ Run! ” Straker is yelling at me. My father
tries to reach me, but Rashid is pulling him back, firing for
cover. I hear him scream my name over gunfire, but I don’t
care.
I empty the rest of my magazine, kill six more
Keepers—it’s like my gun is doing it for me. They start pulling
back, dropping down under cover. Cowards.
Straker swats a sniper round headed my way.
“ Fuck! ” she’s shouting at me. “ MOVE IT, YOU
DUMB SHIT!! ”
Good idea.
I get up and run and leap, forward, down-slope,
bounding off rocks on the way down. They fire back at me—I can see it coming—and I drop behind a boulder, reload, let them
waste a few bullets against stone. Then I reach down, lift, pry,
and send the boulder and a few of its fellows tumbling at them as a
slide. I run sideways while they’re busy with that, picking off an
animal that tries to run (wielding my rifle with one hand!). I’m
laughing, giddy. One of them gets his legs pinned under my
landslide and screams. I like them screaming, but I put a round in
his back anyway.
“ MURPHY! ” I hear Straker shout. I think I hear
him yelling back, something about leaving him and getting the
others out. I know I should care, but I don’t. I don’t care about
anything but killing these monsters.
I turn, punch a round through another armored suit. I
barely feel something hit me in the chest, smacking my armor hard
and sharp below my heart; feel a shockwave like an explosion in my
ribcage, kicking the air out of me. I don’t stop. I leap for one of
them before he can look up and see me coming, tackle the suit of
armor, tossing my rifle and drawing my sword and stabbing it
between his helmet and neck guard, twisting it in meat and bone. My
body feels shaky, electric, almost like when I grabbed the
Companion Blade at the Barrow.
I cough. Taste blood. A lot of blood. I can’t get a
full breath in. My chest is full of fire and knives. Spots form in
my vision.
I don’t care.
I drag up the armor suit I’ve just killed, and use it
as a shield as they shoot at me. It should be too heavy for me to
lift, especially if I’ve taken a bullet through my left lung, but
it isn’t. I feel rounds smack into the laminate suit, then feel one
tear at my left calf, making my leg go numb and dead halfway below
the knee. I almost fall, then throw the armored body at them,
keeping its weapon, and empty first the magazine of AP shells and
then the grenade cylinder. I realize I’m screaming even though I
can barely breathe. I throw away the empty weapon, get my sword
back from the neck of my kill, head…
I get slammed in the upper right chest, feel
fragments from my chest plating tear into my face, feel it hit and
shatter off the armor on my back on the way out. It takes what’s
left of the wind out of me, leaves me gasping like I’m in near
vacuum, unable to fill my lungs. Now all my limbs become liquid. My
legs go completely, then the rest of me. Still I try to keep going,
keep running forward, but crash face-first into the rocks before I
manage one more step. My own blood surges up my
helmet bursts from an HE round. I hear a much larger caliber gun
bang from our line—that would be the Ghaddar. She’s somewhere way
up-slope and forward, firing down on our attackers.
Another of my targets gets taken by an arrow
first.
Then our shelters explode. Grenade.
I shift my scope down-slope, see a fire team of
Keepers moving up on us. I put a round through one, but then
another lobs a grenade at us. Straker manages to swat it back at
them.
“Move back!” she orders us. “Now! I can cover
you!”
No.
That’s the first thing that flashes through my head.
I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m already locking another Keeper,
and shoot him clean through the visor. And another. I’m totally
clear, totally focused, but also totally flooded with rage and I
don’t know why. But running is no option. Every one of these
animals has to die. Every one…
“ Run! ” Straker is yelling at me. My father
tries to reach me, but Rashid is pulling him back, firing for
cover. I hear him scream my name over gunfire, but I don’t
care.
I empty the rest of my magazine, kill six more
Keepers—it’s like my gun is doing it for me. They start pulling
back, dropping down under cover. Cowards.
Straker swats a sniper round headed my way.
“ Fuck! ” she’s shouting at me. “ MOVE IT, YOU
DUMB SHIT!! ”
Good idea.
I get up and run and leap, forward, down-slope,
bounding off rocks on the way down. They fire back at me—I can see it coming—and I drop behind a boulder, reload, let them
waste a few bullets against stone. Then I reach down, lift, pry,
and send the boulder and a few of its fellows tumbling at them as a
slide. I run sideways while they’re busy with that, picking off an
animal that tries to run (wielding my rifle with one hand!). I’m
laughing, giddy. One of them gets his legs pinned under my
landslide and screams. I like them screaming, but I put a round in
his back anyway.
“ MURPHY! ” I hear Straker shout. I think I hear
him yelling back, something about leaving him and getting the
others out. I know I should care, but I don’t. I don’t care about
anything but killing these monsters.
I turn, punch a round through another armored suit. I
barely feel something hit me in the chest, smacking my armor hard
and sharp below my heart; feel a shockwave like an explosion in my
ribcage, kicking the air out of me. I don’t stop. I leap for one of
them before he can look up and see me coming, tackle the suit of
armor, tossing my rifle and drawing my sword and stabbing it
between his helmet and neck guard, twisting it in meat and bone. My
body feels shaky, electric, almost like when I grabbed the
Companion Blade at the Barrow.
I cough. Taste blood. A lot of blood. I can’t get a
full breath in. My chest is full of fire and knives. Spots form in
my vision.
I don’t care.
I drag up the armor suit I’ve just killed, and use it
as a shield as they shoot at me. It should be too heavy for me to
lift, especially if I’ve taken a bullet through my left lung, but
it isn’t. I feel rounds smack into the laminate suit, then feel one
tear at my left calf, making my leg go numb and dead halfway below
the knee. I almost fall, then throw the armored body at them,
keeping its weapon, and empty first the magazine of AP shells and
then the grenade cylinder. I realize I’m screaming even though I
can barely breathe. I throw away the empty weapon, get my sword
back from the neck of my kill, head…
I get slammed in the upper right chest, feel
fragments from my chest plating tear into my face, feel it hit and
shatter off the armor on my back on the way out. It takes what’s
left of the wind out of me, leaves me gasping like I’m in near
vacuum, unable to fill my lungs. Now all my limbs become liquid. My
legs go completely, then the rest of me. Still I try to keep going,
keep running forward, but crash face-first into the rocks before I
manage one more step. My own blood surges up my
Similar Books
