“Why the fuck are we out here?” whispered a PFC as he crept through the blackness. His HUD made it look like it was high noon in the Houston-Dallas-Austin metropolis, but that didn’t stop it from feeling creepy.

“Because we’re expendable,” the CPL leading the two-man mission hissed back. “Now shut the fuck up.” They continued to inch forward through the bay toward the former entrance to the bunker complex.

Abandoned vehicles, powered-down Spyders, crates of discarded supplies, and the metal helms of several LACS watched the two scouts as they attempted to investigate the massive space. Both men had been present when this area was bursting with activity. They’d also been present when it was boobytrapped and abandoned. The last thing either one of them wanted was to be back here.

“I’m lodging a formal complaint with the LT,” the PFC continued anyway. “This is a misuse of essential resources,” he jiggled his IAR for emphasis. “This rifle could be put to use in the blockades down below, not sneaking around up here.”

The CPL just shook his head behind his faceless helmet. “Your grievance is noted,” the scales system would pick it up and log the complaint. “Your problem is that you think people give a fuck.”

The remark bought the CPL a minute of precious silence. The boobytraps had been highlighted on their HUD, and they stepped carefully around them. The engineers had planted mines, there were motion sensor trip wires attached to artillery shells, basically; anything that would make a big boom when the ETs came through had been carefully placed. Even better, some of the ordinance was on a delayed timer, so even if the ETs tripped it, they’d wait to draw more bodies in before detonation. Against your average human formation, the traps would be deadly, but with the ETs shield tech, it would probably just slow them down; just like the small cave-in that trapped every human in the bunker complex underground.

The CPL’s millimeter wave radar picked up something beside the rock of the tunnel they’d proceeded into after the maintenance bay. He sent a message to the PVT to halt, and went down to one knee. He focused his sensors more and picked up a heartbeat.

“We’ve got something ahead,” despite his sensors indicating the heartbeat was weak, and in need of medical attention, he took it slowly. “Cover me.” He would have told the PVT to check it out, but the baby-faced kid was turning out to be a little chicken shit despite all his big talk.

He hoped the kid didn’t shoot him in the back as he crept forward. The readings said the heartbeat was twenty meters in front of him, just on this side of the cave-in. With each step, he expected an ET to jump out and kill him, but nothing happened. Instead, he made it to the body . . . or what was left of it.

“Get up here,” the CPL ordered after he cleared the area. The PVT shuffled up with his weapons raised and pointed at the CPL. “Put that shit down and help me.”

“Oh god,” the PVT audibly gulped over the net. “this guy looks like someone took a flamethrower to him.”

“What the hell is a flamethrower?” the CPL asked as he assessed the casualty.

There were third degree burns all over the person’s back. He was missing a leg at the knee, and was just generally fucked up. He had a compound fracture to his left arm, his shoulder was out of his socket, several ribs were cracked, and there was definitely internal bleeding. The CPL took out his ration of medical nanites and jammed it into the soldier’s back. It should help keep the poor son-of-a-bitch alive until they could get him to the medics.

“It was a weapon used back in the twentieth century,” the PVT started to ramble. “It shot out a wave of fire and roasted everything for about five meters.” The PVT hadn’t been in a fight, probably had never been off Earth, but he thought because he knew these little facts that he was some kind of military expert.

“Five meters, who the hell would invent a weapon with such shitty range,” the CPL cut off the kid. “I could take out someone from six meters with a wet fart. Fuckin’ five-meter weapon,” he trailed off as the body began to stir. He immediately shot the poor guy full of pain meds, but that as all he could do.

The PVT pointed his weapon at the man who reared up on his one good leg, and the CPL had to grab his weapon and point it at the ground. The guy was big, clearly some HI trooper who’d made it out of the clusterfuck outside before the cave-on locked everything down.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The guy seemed to shake it off and then grabbed the CPL by the collar. Despite having one leg, and being freshly BBQ’d, he still picked the soldier up off the ground. This time the PVT didn’t aim his rifle at the madman. If he lived, the CPL needed to whoop that kid’s ass really good.

“What the fuck happened?” the man gritted out, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” the CPL answered honestly. “But I can take you to someone who does.”

Mark “Coop” Cooper

Location: North American Eastern Seaboard, Smokey Mountains, United Commonwealth of Colonies

Everything hurt. It wasn’t the type of hurt after a hard day’s work where you could get a good meal, a good night sleep, maybe be a little sore, but good to go the next day. Nope . . . this was the type of hurt you couldn’t push through the pain. This was the type of hurt when you were broken, and Coop felt broken.

The initial surge of the drugs and painkillers made him feel invincible, and he made a mental note to apologize to the grunt who he’d picked up. That initial rush was short-lived, and he barely made it back to the maintenance bay before nearly collapsing. He barely saw the medics before he was out again. The CPL’s injection definitely saved his life, but life was going to suck ass for a little; and that didn’t even take into consideration if the ET’s didn’t bust in and murder him in his sleep.

he was really starting to hate anything that wasn’t human.

“Now hold still,” some civilian nurse said as the ground rumbled and the lights flickered.

A big machine with a dozen thin, mechanical arms was sitting next to the table he was lying face down on. He didn’t have much choice but to follow the nurse’s instructions. He couldn’t do much more than lay there. The impromptu hospital they’d retrofitted deep in the bunker complex wasn’t full yet. The ET’s were still pounding their way through the mountain – or that’s what it sounded like – and nobody from the outside had made it back in. That hit him like a punch to the gut and he couldn’t hold back a sob.

“I haven’t even started yet,” the nurse frowned at him, misinterpreting everything.

He’d been in and out of it since the CPL found him, but he’d had enough energy at one point to ask an LT about Eve and the western front. The kid was busy, running around like a chicken with his head cut off, but he did relay that the ETs had brought some new mobile artillery to the fight. The western front had been routed and everyone was dead.

Coop was too shocked to grab the LT and shake him for more information before he moved away. The thought of Eve being dead was learning the sun wouldn’t rise in the morning and set in the evening. It was impossible.

he concluded. The problem was that would probably never happen judging by the ground shaking this deep underground, and a gnawing feeling at the back of his mind kept telling him to accept that she was gone.

He griped the table out of rage as a cool sensation spread across his back and legs. The blast that had roasted him like a Thanksgiving turkey had been localized to his back. Of course, that meant he’d lost a third of the hair on his head and been blasted all the way down to his heel. Even his front was a little red, but with the limited resources, the docs were going to fix the third-degree stuff and let what amounted to a harsh sunburn heal on its own.

The cool sensation faded into numbness, and the only reason he knew the procedure had begun was the machine hummed to life. It was a simple operation. They needed to remove the dead, burned skin, and the machine’s dozens of arms went to work on that immediately. It would take time, and even with the numbing, he felt the occasional painful tug when they had to yank on something a little deeper. He sucked it up and took it, even when the machine started peeling off his ruined ass. Having your cheeks spread and dead skin plucked from around your asshole was something he hoped to only have to experience once in his lifetime. At some point in the process he passed out.

He woke up with an IV in his arm and a nurse sticking him with more medical nanites. He had no idea what for this time, but his back was still cool and numb. “I’m going to put you back under,” she explained as she pulled out a hypo full of something strong enough to knock his ass out. You need at least eight hours for the new skin to set.”

She moved a mirror into place so he could see the machine’s fine work. In his opinion he still looked unnatural. Now, instead of a black charred mess, there was fresh pink skin. It was still creepy to look at, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“Eight hours,” the rumbling didn’t feel any closer, but it was more frequent. The lights were also dimmed in his room; to conserve energy for the siege.

“Yes,” the nurse replied, and stuck the syringe into the intake valve of the bag. “Next thing you know you’ll wake up and they’ll give you orders for what to do next.

he thought as his eyelids grew heavy. He needed to do something. He couldn’t sit here feeling sorry for himself and thinking about Eve. Fuck that.

She didn’t even have to tell him to count backwards. He was out before she left the room and turned off the lights. Thankfully, the meds didn’t let him dream, or he was sure he’d have nightmares. Coop had been in a lot of shitty situations, but this was by far the worst. Even if he miraculously made it out, he was sure he’d never be the same. Even worse, he might be a single dad, and that terrified him most of all.