Chapter 35 - The Game of Life (Part III)

Author's Notes: I feel bad for the long wait, but hopefully further chapters rather than mere words can serve as a poor man's apology.

Also, I understand many readers' frustration with the current arc, and have endeavored to find some compromise - a middle ground, if you will. As an overmatched writer struggling with his own creative process, such compromise is difficult to define, and harder still to achieve. As an avid reader myself, I rather sympathize with the thoughts of many. It will likely take me a handful more chapters to wrap up this arc and return to the main storyline. I admit I've learned much from it, yet at the same time some things won't be rushed.

Yangtze River, Wei Hao Region. Local Time: 23:36

Corpses, nothing but corpses as far as the eye could see. They lay still and inert, stacked in piles of five or more, their tattered uniforms waving back and forth as the crimson water lapped at their wounds. The entire river crossing was filled to bursting with the bodies of fallen soldiers.

His soldiers.

Colonel Zhao Luqing’s breathing grew ragged as his heart began to pump furiously, as though trying to pump out all the liquid fire that was coursing through his veins. His vision grew dim, veiled by a curtain of red that turned not only the river, but the whole night around him into a scarlet haze.

“Sir, initial casualty reports estimate that over thirty thousan-”

With a furious roar, Colonel Zhao grabbed the officer delivering the report by the neck, then lifting him over his shoulders he threw him face-first into the blood-tinged waters of the Yangtze River.

“Who did this?” he growled between clenched teeth, his hands balling up into massive fists that trembled with rage seeking an outlet.

“S.. sir, beg your pardon,” came the stuttering reply from his left, “the enemy contingent lay out a carefully planned ambush from the tree line and the crags to the right. From the positions and the tracks they left, it couldn’t have been over 15,000 men.”

Colonel Zhao turned his baleful stare towards this new incompetent idiot. “You’re telling me 15,000 Federation pigs slaughtered 35,000 of my own men in little over an hour with nothing but small arms fire? Are you telling me that’s even remotely possible?”

The man gulped visibly and shook his head mutely.

“It’s obviously a trap. They left enough signs to make us misjudge their numbers. They probably have at least as many men as we currently have,” Colonel Zhao muttered, glancing over his shoulders at the 40,000 troops standing behind his shoulder.

“Sir, at least we have been able to track their current direction,” came the hesitant comment.

“You fool, they are obviously leading us to another ambush. Do you want be in the receiving end of their next slaughterhouse?”

“Ah, no. Of course not, sir. What will we do then?”

Colonel Zhao gnashed his teeth. “They’re headed northeast. That’s the direction the auxiliary artillery unit is at. Although they’re important, we still have our main artillery unit currently positioning themselves on the Lower Wei Hao peak. Even if we lose this auxiliary artillery unit, we can’t afford to fall prey to another such ambush.”

Colonel Zhao turned his head towards the northeast, before slowly shaking his head. “No, though it burns me to say it, we will wait until we rendezvous with Colonel Hong’s forces. They should be here within the hour. Colonel Hong likely has already ordered the artillery unit to retreat and reposition at Hidden Valley to prepare for an imminent enemy strike. Meanwhile, we will encircle Hidden Valley. From there, we will fall on the enemy like tigers upon a startled hare.”

“What about the artillery unit, sir?”

“If they manage to hold until we arrive, then good.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we will pour a thousand blood libations to mourn their passing,” came Colonel Zhao’s fierce reply. “I will have vengeance for my Red Tiger Force!”

Hidden Valley, Wei Hao Region. Local Time: 23:59

“Fecking Federation dogs, dirty sons of whores, all they do is lay these damned traps..” an ashen-faced soldier muttered bitterly as he dug through the rubble left by the latest explosion, which had buried at least a few dozen soldiers under a jumbled pile of broken limbs and bloodied rocks.

“Don’t even know which way to turn no more man,” another man complained while marching past the grisly spectacle. “Last time it was a claymore mine, took out two whole squads in the blink of an eye.”

“Yeh, least these you can see. Fecking claymore mines, last one killed that big bear chested fellow from 14th unit.”

“What the hell? That unit was at least 250 feet from the mine, wasn’t it?”

“Yeh, much good it did him. Piece of shrapnel tore straight through his eye and into his brain. Didn’t so much as squeak, fell down and began to twitch. Took a couple minutes to finally stop, poor bastard.”

“Goddamn, when we finally catch these federation bastards..”

“Yeah, we got over 100,000 men with us now, nowhere for them to run as they’re running straight into Hidden Valley, where they’ll be trapped by the granite face of the Wei Hao Peaks.”

“Good, it can be their tombstone then.”

“Woa.. hey, look!” A man suddenly tugged at his fellow soldier’s arm and pointed upward.

In the skies above, the radiation storm finally began to show signs of subsiding, the snaking vines of green lightning slowly fading in intensity as the opaque darkness of the night began to reign once more.

“Colonel Hong,” a rough voice called out from the middle of a massive formation of troops, though it could only be heard by the small circle of protective escorts carefully keeping watch as they advanced through the trees. “We should make haste. If we allow the enemy to escape our encirclement, the Ice Emperor will have our heads.” Not only were both their armies completely out of position according to the original plan, when - not if - the Ice Emperor’s scanners finally recovered full functionality and read the conditions on the field, his wrath would be unavoidable.

“You mean your head, Colonel Zhao,” a thin, wiry man with a thin mustache wrinkled his angular nose as he glanced at the man walking next to him. “I was following my orders just fine until the emergency communication from your Red Tiger Forces reached me, forcing me to abandon my pursuit of the enemy to come to the rescue of your army and the auxiliary artillery contingent stationed at Hidden Valley.”

Colonel Zhao gritted his teeth as he bit back a forceful reply, and instead glared at the thin man. He might as well have been glaring at a rock, for all the reaction he got. He was instead forced to swallow his anger and take a more conciliatory tone - for now.

“Now is not the time to bicker. Whether you came because of our communication or not, if we let this enemy slip past us, it will be the end for the both of us, and you know it. From the lack of any sounds of fire or battle, we must assume that they have yet to strike at our auxiliary artillery army entrenched within Hidden Valley. We’ve already set a rough perimeter. There is no more time, we must signal the attack.”

“Don’t expect me to bow down to the demands of your incompetence,” came the derisive reply from Colonel Hong as he turned his eyes upward towards the rapidly receding radiation storm. “In brief moments, we may be to restore our short-range scanners. Thus we will be able to know exactly how many enemies we face, as well as the best tactic to employ.”

“How about the auxiliary artillery army?” growled Colonel Zhao.

“What of it?” was the cool reply.

“They must be saved if possible!” Zhao managed through gritted teeth, glaring fiercely.

“Calm yourself Colonel Zhao. There hasn’t been any sign of enemy action or contact in the entire time we’ve been advancing. We have already established a rough perimeter, and a few extra minutes won’t make a significant difference in the outcome. What I.. ah, what WE need is to preserve as much of our fighting strength as possible.”

Of course, that way you can point out my incompetence in losing so many men under my command, while you claim the role of saviour by exterminating the enemy army and barely sustaining any losses.

“That is unacceptable Hong. We move to strike now, dammit!” Colonel Zhao growled, advancing threateningly to loom over his physically unimposing fellow officer.

“You are free, of course, to command your own men as you will,” came the impassive reply. To his credit, even when confronted by the towering fury of Colonel Zhao of the Red Tiger Army, Hong didn’t even bat a single eyelid. If anything, his eyes narrowed even further as the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly towards a barely discernible, but definite sneer. “Of course, my own troops will engage when and where I deem it most adequate.”

“Hong, you little snake -” came the heated words, but at that instant the sounds of distant gunfire and several explosions thundered in the air. While all the men present instinctively turned their heads towards the sound, the sounds of fighting rapidly multiplied, and after a few moments several bright flares flew into the air while alarm horns blared. Immediately after, a volley of explosions rocked the ground and massive pillars of fire bloomed in the forest ahead of them.

“Hssh. Hssh. Enemy force detected.. Engaging with main cannons.. Requesting assistance..” came the barely recognizable words through the radio, which had been dead until now.

“Communications are coming online back sir! We are receiving transmissions from the auxiliary artillery army! Also, General Ming’s comms officer requests a status..”

“Colonel Hong, you don’t want the auxiliary army to sustain unnecessary losses, and I will let you claim all credit for eliminating the enemy troops. However, we strike now! Otherwise, I will turn around right now and let you lose half your men to the 40-50,000 men army we are facing, and to hell with the consequences. There is a limit to how far I can be pushed!”

Colonel Hong stood immobile for a long moment while he looked Zhao in the eye, coldly calculating in his mind. Of course, Hong knew perfectly well that if Zhao withdrew his forces, the man would be committing political suicide as likely all the blame for the past and future losses in this field of battle would be pinned solely on him.

As pleasant as that would be to watch, Colonel Hong himself might lose a sizeable chunk of his own forces, as well as the damage to the auxiliary artillery army. Depending on just how heavy those losses were, he might be gambling with his own future.

“Fine,” came the words from Colonel Hong, as a decision was finally reached. “We strike. However, remember your words well Zhao. This is my show now.”

Grimly vowing within his heart to one day pay back this humiliation, Colonel Zhao made no further comment as he nodded to the officers standing by for orders. “All men to follow Colonel Hong into battle. Get all the men ready. We fight now!”

“Sir, we can no longer hold this position. We must retreat!”

“You will hold this ground to the last man,” came the reply, smooth and undisturbed by the chaos raging all around them. Stahl’s expression remained as poised and unperturbed as a motionless pond, without the slightest ripple disturbing its surface.

In such a fashion, five hours had raged on already, a battle of desperate extremes. The forces arrayed against them were seemingly endless. In the very beginning, they’d begun with a stealthy assault against the unprepared defensive perimeter of the artillery army deployed within the valley. Even the ever stalwart Stahl had seemed somewhat disquieted as he gave out numerous orders to different coordinates, whereupon they would unfailingly find hidden enemy scouts and sentry posts.

Armed with such fail proof intelligence, they had been able to disarm the enemy’s defenses in a flash, and had even been able quietly take over the entire military post. With such dazzling success, by any common logic they should have rigged explosives to destroy the artillery pieces, then made a fast getaway before the enemy’s reinforcements pounced upon them. After all, they had left a wide trail of blood and guts all the way to the Yangtze river, and every single man in their army knew the enemy would be upon them like dogs howling for blood.

However, contrary to their expectations, and to everyone’s shock, Commander Stahl had instead ordered the artillery pieces be manned, and begun to lay out an intricate web of defenses all about the immediate area. Clearly, this was tantamount to suicide! Their numbered at most 12,000 men after all the frantic battles they had been through, and though they’d dealt far more than they’d received, the men had been bled thoroughly, paying a heavy price for every casualty they’d inflicted upon their enemy.

As the men rushed to comply with their orders, a general sense of fervor arose among the men as they steeled themselves to face the oncoming tide. Perhaps this would be their last battle, after all. If they would go out in one last glorious flash of brilliance, then who better to lead them than the famed Hellhound, Ironmask Stahl?

Indeed, as they’d staged the first salvo of artillery fire and the emergency beacons, they had watched with blood-thirsty eyes as a seemingly endless wave of enemy reinforcements had streamed down the valley, and to their eventual doom.

They had all watched with helpless frustration as thousands of their comrades were slaughtered like pigs under the butcher’s knife as they sought to reach some desperate retreat in vain.

Five hours of constant carnage, with one side desperately pushing forward in order to stop the deadly rain of fire and doom from the artillery emplacements that had mysteriously shifted from their original positions and seemed to always swoop upon them unawares to blast them into the next world; the defenders, on the other hand, fought tooth-and-nail, with eyes that stared unflinchingly at death as their defensive positions were slowly buried under an ever-increasing, appalling mass of dismembered corpses and smoking shells.

All the while, Stahl continued to issue orders as calmly as before, even as the inevitable onslaught of the enemy advanced further still, to knock upon their very doorstep, and the final line of defense.

The enemy now lay arrayed before them, shedding all pretense of order and structure. Instead, the seething masses of the enemy ranks resembled a giant beast glaring balefully at the hateful prey it had finally cornered after receiving countless wounds, not only to their flesh but more importantly, to their dignity and pride.

The boastful numbers of 100,000 men had been severely culled, until little more than half now remained standing over the course of five hours. Once trapped within the deadly web spun by Stahl’s cold, methodical genius, not only would escape be a fool’s errant dream, but rather doom as they could feel the shadow of death slowly creeping up on them from what they had foolishly regarded as a mere insignificant force ripe for the plucking. Thus, they had pushed forward with mad desperation, in a headlong rush towards the only lifeline that lay before them - to completely eradicate their enemy before they could do the same to them.

Equal measures of shock and dismay could be now seen on the blood-matted, haggard faces of the 50,000 or so troops surrounding the final defensive line Stahl had prepared. 2,000? Surely the ragtag remnants of the Federation troops couldn’t number any more. Where was the mighty foe that had terrorized them even as they had been urged forward in a frantic bid for survival? 2,000 men, mostly wounded and bloodied, their bodies slumped over with exhaustion as they crouched low in a quiet wait for the final battle to unfurl its dreadful banner.

Their eyes, however, told the harrowing tale of a death well earned. They silently counted off the unspeakable odds they had surmounted, and the glory of a fight worth dying for.

To the shaken coalition army led by Colonel Zhao, it seemed as though even at the cusp of victory, only defeat lay before them, staring back hollow-eyed and silent.

Colonel Hong might well have ordered an unconditional retreat well before they reached this point, fearful of the appalling casualty rate as they assaulted layer upon layer of defenses, each more harrowing than the last. However, Colonel Hong had himself been one of the first casualties of the clash, as a direct hit from an EM-piercing artillery shell had left nothing but ashes in its wake.

Colonel Zhao lifted a trembling hand to his face, pausing in the motion to wipe off the blood that insidiously kept trickling down his face from a deep gash on his forehead to stare blankly into the palm of his hand. It was stained a dirty, grimy red as he’d repeated the motion all night long to deal with the blood as it ran into his eye. That cut on his forehead, it came from a piece of shrapnel from that very same shell which had left Colonel Hong as a pile of cinders. A few more inches and it would have pierced directly into his brain.

How fortunate he had felt then. How he had gloated over the fate of his rival, Hong.

As he stared into the palm of his empty, trembling hand, Zhao couldn’t help but shudder at the inexorable feeling of envy that had come to replace such wanton feelings instead.

Endless envy, for after last night’s ordeal, he almost wished for a quick death instead.

He was ruined. Completely, absolutely, irrevocably ruined. His army in tatters, their morale shattered. Especially now as they at long last were able to confront their hated, yet dreadful prey.

Just who had been the hunter and who had been the prey, this night?

His command would be torn from his clutches, his honour dragged through the mud as he would likely face a military tribunal to answer for gross dereliction of duty, insubordination, and even outright treason. Not even his family would be spared, for though the government likely wouldn’t stoop to such actions, the Ice Emperor would be sure to make his displeasure fully felt before delivering what at that point would be the merciful blade of the executioner.

Zhao was, in fact, a dead man walking.

As he lifted his gaze to stare balefully at his enemy across the short distance that separated them, Colonel Zhao slowly tightened his fist as he raised it, in preparation to give the command to initiate the final attack.

However, that hand slowly dropped to his side as he stared in stunned disbelief at the sight before his eyes.

A neatly dressed man, likely well into his 40s, was at the moment casually striding forward from within the confines of the final defensive line laid out by the Federation forces. Soldiers on both sides of the battlefield watched in baffled incredulity as the man calmly, collectedly strode forward.

His uniform was impeccably neat and crisp, as though he had stepped into a parade instead of a blood-soaked field of battle. His face was well-shaven, and his eyes stared straight at Zhao with unnerving directness.

It was a spectacle so surreal that not a single solder even had the presence of mind to shout out a challenge, much less aim and fire a bullet.

Thousands of rapt eyes watched the slow progress of this insane man as he sedately made his way to the middle of the field, then with an unhurried, practiced flurry of motion unfolded a compact table as well as two portable chairs from within his belt. Such a move should have startled any wary soldier into violent action, yet the smooth train of actions served only to further deepen the spell that held sway over this entire ludicrous, almost fantastic spectacle.

Apparently satisfied with the layout of the items set before him, the insane man once more returned his eyes to nod towards Zhao. “Commander Zhao of the Red Tiger Army, upon this battlefield where we shall both meet our untimely demise, let us stare death in the face as we contemplate upon the Game of Life.”

Utter silence dominated the clearing for what seemed ages. Just how to respond to such a bizarre, demented entreaty?

Thus, a few minutes later, Colonel Zhao found himself seated across his mortal enemy, the man who had effectively killed him though he still drew breath. Cursed to unlife, to come so close only to lose it all, and finally wrench victory from the maws of death only to find the hollow, desolate eyes of defeat staring in silent vigil over him.

For how else do you respond to madness, but further madness?

As the madman had stated, they were both dead men. Might as well indulge just a little further into the insanity, at least until he could clear the hazy fog of this most ignominiously hollow victory still blanketing his mind with its bleak pall of doom and death.

Then, and only then, would he pull out the .44 caliber revolver he’d prepared just for this express purpose, and blow the bastard’s brains out all over his little “Game of Life” nonsense.

Then he’d proceed to calmly pull the trigger one final time.

Two bullets, that was all he’d brought, and all he needed.

One for you, and one for me.