Chapter Sixty-One - Go Kill the Thing

“All students at Bartholomew G. Wordstum Elementary school must follow the dress code. That includes:

Dress shirt/blouse (white, logo on breast)

Fitted slacks/a skirt no shorter than the knees (black)

Class 2 bulletproof vest (black)

Lounge jacket (school standard, winter or summer variant)

All students will be provided with new school software for their augmentations at the beginning of the semester.”

--Letter to parents of students of Bartholomew G. Wordstum Elementary school, 2039

***

I had about a second to come up with an idea of what to do.

That second passed.

“Cat!” Gomorrah shouted. “Go kill that thing.”

“Got it!” I said. Then I ran.

The earth shifted and rent, and from the growing hole came a beast whose appearance alone was enough to clutch my heart.

I wasn’t a coward or anything, and there were few things that made me nervous or that scared me, but that antithesis... fuck me if it wasn’t terrifying.

The antithesis clambered out of the hole it had made, slabs of cement falling into the growing pit even as dozens of model threes came pouring out of the hole after it.

Its legs were tree trunks, its body was long and covered in thick bones with leathery segments between them. Four legs, and a face like a lamprey fucked chuthulu. As I ran, eyes on the monster, two long tusks ripped out of the sides of its head. They were bigger than I was, with serrated edges and sharp points.

One of the tanks nearby started to back up, turret turning towards the antithesis while the big beast was still pulling itself out of the ground.

The tank fired, and I slowed my run down. Was that it? Had I been freaking out for nothing?

The dust cleared, revealing the antithesis which was shaking its head to clear out the smoke left behind by the exploding shell. It was injured, a crack in the off-white bone over its sternum and skin ripped through, but it wasn’t dead.

“Myalis, what is that?” I asked.

A model twenty-eight, though that is a small specimen of the model.

A small specimen? It was the size of a tanker! The PMCs and militia around the hole turned around. Some opened fire immediately. The smarter ones ran for cover first. I saw two of them get gunned down as a nasty cross-fire started near the backlines.

The model threes were going to be a problem.

“We need to patch that hole,” I said.

The model twenty-eight turned, then started to charge with its head lowered. Its tusks rammed into a parked van and it lifted it clear off the ground before swinging its head around. The tusks retracted and the van went flying.

“We need to kill that thing,” I said. I must have had fire on my mind. “Myalis, need a fire grenade, something long-lasting.”

A bomb appeared in the air before me, just at the right height for me to catch it without having to slow down at all. I pulled the pin, then vaulted over the barricades.

Militia-people were scurrying around in barely contained panic. Officers were screaming orders out, and I could tell that the other sections were looking our way, wondering what to do.

I flung the grenade Myalis had given me out and ahead as hard as I could. It sailed through the air in a nearly perfect arc, bounced off the head of a model three, then disappeared into the hole. A heartbeat later a dozen red beams flashed out of the opening, some of them spearing into and through the model threes still on the edge of the hole.

That will last for approximately one minute.

Good enough for the moment. I refocused on the model twenty-eight. A lot of others were doing the same, firing into its sides and flanks. The big alien seemed almost confused for a moment before it spotted a group of power-armoured PMCs running by. It ran after them, like a hyperactive dog who’d just spotted a juicy squirrel.

I winced as the monster swung its head down and picked one of the men off the ground and into the air, its lamprey mouth crunching down on the soldier.

Now that I was closer, I raised my gun to fire at it, then paused. Plenty of others were doing the same. It wasn’t working. The damned thing had tanked a shell to the torso with barely more than a scratch to show for it.

If I couldn’t do anything from the outside, then... the inside?

My Claw wouldn’t go deep enough. For that matter, I bet the bastard was nearly as tough inside as it was on the outside. I needed something with more oomph. “Myalis, get me the Claw’s bigger meaner brother,” I asked.

Certainly.

New Purchase: Mark VI Claw

Points Reduced to... 54,129

Myalis didn’t bother with a box. That would have taken seconds I didn’t have. Instead a big gun appeared in the air before me. It was squat, with a wide front with a handhold beneath and a curved grip and handguard. No barrel, which in hindsight made sense.

I let my Bullcat drop, the strap hooked to it allowing the gun to dangle by my side as I raised the Claw. A crosshair appeared in my augmented vision and I placed it atop the big alien. Then I took in a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

There was a faint ‘clack’ and some of the lights on the gun glowed for a moment. A timer circle appeared around the crosshair and filled up until it disappeared.

I moved the crosshair down towards the middle of the alien’s body, then fired again.

A moment later, the alien’s side where I’d put the first round, exploded. Skin and bone and blood gushed out of a hole large enough that I could have crawled into it. Soldiers and PMCs cheered, but I ignored those in favour of firing into the alien again.

A little flesh-wound like that wouldn’t kill it.

The smarter soldiers opened fire again, this time aiming for the opening in the alien’s side where its tough skin wouldn’t be able to absorb as much of the damage we were laying into it.

A second explosion occurred, this one partially swallowed by the alien’s side. Then a third, near the flank, which ripped apart enough of the model twenty-eight’s hip that the alien stumbled to the side, one of its rear legs only hanging on by a few tatters of skin.

The tanks stationed at the back had turned their attention inwards. Fortunately, they weren’t firing desperately at the monster. Instead they were taking their time. When one of them fired, the others waited to line up their shot properly.

The model twenty-eight groaned as armour-piercing shells punched holes into its sides.

Coupled with the explosions I was setting off within it, it was only a matter of time before the alien collapsed onto its side. There was enough weight crashing down all at once that I felt it in the soles of my feet.

Well done. That was a difficult opponent.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t just me,” I said. I glanced at the hole where the lasers had stopped and more model threes were starting to poke their heads out.

The hole was partially encircled by PMCs now, some of them dragging barricades over, others on overwatch to shoot anything that poked its head out.

“Can I get a box-full of whatever grenade that was last time?” I asked.

Certainly. They’re area-denial explosives that fire lasers. They’re called HAIRBALLS.

I shook my head, then grabbed a passing PMC. Myalis’ box of HAIRBALLS appeared by my feet, and I pointed to it. “Bring this to the troops defending that hole. Toss one into the hole every minute.”

The man nodded his head, grabbed the case, then ran off towards the hole.

He’d probably follow my instructions. There was the risk that he was greedy, but... well, running off with a boxfull of explosives was stupid when you didn’t know if the person who’d given them to you could detonate them from afar.

“Cat!” Gomorrah called back.

I spun around.

No one was paying attention to the front. At least, no one in our part of the defences.

The antithesis knew it. And they abused the fact.

Gomorrah was walking backwards across the no man’s land. Her flamethrower was spitting fire over what was left of the wall before her.

The tide was pouring over the debris, hundreds of them pushing over each other’s flaming corpses to try and reach Gomorrah. When she lit up one group, another would slip into the gap. She was going to be overrun.

“Fuck. Attention to the front!” I shouted. A few people were paying enough attention that the fire heading ahead redoubled for a moment.

I didn’t wait. I fired my new gun, hit some model five that was moving too slow, then discarded the gun a moment later. It was too slow.

Just as the tide reached Gomorrah, she bent her knees and jumped backwards. Fire bloomed out beneath her and she rocketed into the air on a plume of burning thrust.

I let out a relieved sigh. I wouldn’t be seeing my friend chewed up just yet.

Still, I didn’t think our troubles were over.

***