First off, this is unedited, and needs proofread. This is the rough draft for the first part of chapter 4. I hope you all enjoy it!
Chapter 4
Griff shook the remnants of the memory from his head as they walked. The flashbacks were stronger, more vivid, and he found himself thinking desperately about drowning in whiskey. They had found a break in the barren, ruinous landscape and decided to use this small rocky outcrop as shelter while they ate lunch. As they ate, the Death Eater walked around, seeming to study the nearby surroundings.
Griff hated watching them eat. Hated knowing what they ate. They were vultures. They ate carrion and rot and god did it fucking stink. They had no preference over what they ate, either, and at the peak of the war intelligence had discovered that POW camps doubled as cattle farms. The worst part about watching them eat wasn’t the smell, though. It was the way their jaws moved. The lower jaw was set into their chest, and when their mouths opened the upper jaw actually hinged up. Rows of small shark-like teeth lined the upper jaw and the lower chest-jaw area. No tongue, no chin, just a head that lifts up a little so that food could be shredded by those tiny horrific teeth.
Griff also walked around as he ate, but stayed under the shade of the outcropping as much as he could. He took the opportunity to remove his hat briefly and get reprieve from the Orbisun that was hanging high in the sky. He took a nibble of some of the rations he purchased from Tom and a sip of water then made a conscious effort to pack everything back up.
“What is this?” he heard the alien’s raspy whisper in his head.
Griff walked around the rocks to where the alien was, looking around the horizon as he moved.
“We are going to need to get moving soon. There’s a way station a few miles from here. A little saloon with rooms. We’ll need to stop there. It will be a little early, but that’s the last stop for at least another day.” Griff spoke as he approached the alien and followed its gaze.
It was standing there, staring at a small break in the formation of rocks. A little alcove was nested, the dirt leading into it was stamped with heavy traffic, more than the typical signs of traffic a lonely oasis of shade would have. Griff continued to study the area and noticed a piece of sheet metal leaning against a dark rock that looked out of place. It had a pile of heavier rocks in front of it, presumably to keep it shut.
“Fuck.” Was the only thing that came out of Griff’s mouth.
The alien looked to him when the word escaped his mouth, and it had the same realization that Griff did.
“Wilders?” The alien asked.
“Yeah. And with this much traffic through here, they aren’t far off.”
As Griff spoke his words seemed to be a signal. In the distance the faint noises of engines could be heard.
“Shit.” Was all Griff said.
The Death Eater raised his head, and peered around the rock. Off on the horizon a small cloud of dust could be seen swirling up into the martian sky.
“Run?” The alien asked as it looked to Griff, who was already checking and reloading the massive revolver that normally hung at his hip.
“Where? There’s nothing but open landscape, and I’m definitely not climbing in that.” Griff said with disdain as he pointed to the sheet metal covering that was leaned against the rocks.
“It’s a small cave?” The alien asked.
“Yeah. But stop. Think. It isn’t empty.
They both stopped speaking. The alien concentrated, though Griff could barely tell what was happening. The distant growl of engines grew louder. Suddenly the alien whispered into Griff’s head.
“I see.”
“Don’t go getting ideas. We aren’t going in there. I don’t care how fucking hungry you are. Goddamned rotters will eat me.”
“Rotters. Interesting term.”
The roar of engines was louder still, and within moments a decision would need to be made.
“Look. We fight them. I know you can blast shit with your mind. We can catch them by surprise. We can take them out, and have a vehicle. We can get to Sanctuary faster. We can probably ride to a waystation then be there tomorrow. You can fight?”
“There are 10 of them. And at least one is attuned. There’s a chance they already know we are here.” The Death Eater replied.
Griff sighed a long deep sigh, “I don’t reckon we’ve got another choice, other than walking out with hands up and surrendering.”
Griff found himself unable to stand still. He began pacing back and forth in the cover of the rock. The death eater stared at him in wonder as Griff walked the same 5 steps over and over, speaking out loud, though mostly to himself.
“Okay.” Was all Griff said when he stopped walking.
At this point the engines were like thunder and the smell of exhaust was starting to fill the air. The decision had to be made and it would have to be made right now.
“Okay?” The death eater asked, still looking at Griff in bewilderment.
“Okay. I ain’t looking to be anyone’s meal, so fuck the rotters, and fuck the wilders. We gotta fight, and we have to do it NOW!” Griff put a lot of emphasis on the last word.
He whipped around the side of the rock to see a small cluster of bikes riding through the martian wastes. A few were riding double, six bikes in total. When he appeared from behind the rock many of the riders started yelling and screaming. Their calls drowned out by the hammering of their v-twin motors.
The revolver did some hammering of its own. 2 shots immediately leapt from the barrel, the first one tagging a rider on the bike of a bike. The bullet shattered the goggles strapped to his face and exploded out the back of his head. The brown duster that flapped in the wind crumpled and seemed to fade into the dust as the rider fell from the bike and tumbled hard into the iron-stained ground.
The second round missed its mark, and the riders pressed on. Many of them wore protective coats and leathers, long dirty hair whipped in the wind. Within a minute they would be upon Griff and his companion, and they needed to thin the numbers out while they could.
A shadow fell over Griff and a deep thud was heard above him. He looked to see the death eater had leapt on top of the rock, one hand outstretched before him. Griff watched as the head of a driver popped unceremoniously, fountains of blood spraying into the air and coagulating with the rust cloud the bikes had created.
Griff had forgotten how brutal the death eaters could be in combat. It was why they had trained him and the other soldiers on how to fortify their minds. Without the proper defensive techniques you were vulnerable to these sorts of attacks.
Griff tightened his grip on the revolver and squeezed another shot that opened a canal through the head of one of the drivers, sending the bike to the ground and then skidding to a halt.
The other three bikes were close enough that they were slowing and stopping. Griff briefly contemplated reloading, despite having three in the cylinder still. Griff had ducked back behind the rock, and peered out again to see that two of the bikes had stopped, four people had dismounted. The third and final bike was starting to ride off. Shots rang out and the Death Eater had leapt from the top of the rock to back behind it as well, both of them taking cover behind the massive boulder.
Rounds occasionally popped off, though Griff realized the Wilders weren’t really shooting at anything, just trying to keep him and the alien behind cover.
“They’re going to move around and flank us!” Griff told the alien. He visualized the combat in his head and tried to figure out which direction would make for the easiest to flank from. As he got it all worked out in his head he realized that it didn’t matter. The Death Eater was able to sense them and was already moving to attack the people moving from their side.
“Give me cover.” the voice whispered into his head.
“Cover…” the word repeated in Griff’s mind, and he could slowly feel his focus fading.
“No. Not now. Night right fucking now!” He said this out loud. Frustrated at his inability to control himself.
Suddenly he was no longer under the rays of the Orbisun, but instead under the cool night sky. The rocks and boulders that were giving him cover dissolved into a rooftop. Another goddamned rooftop.
The explosion of bullets being fired filled the air and muzzle flashes danced through the sky like fireflies. The heavy revolver in his hand felt massive and Griff looked down to see his old Automatic Rifle had replaced it. Around him was chaos, soldiers were yelling, taking cover, and some were returning fire.
Griff settled into his firing position. He rested the Automatic Rifle’s bipods on a desk that had been hauled to the rooftop, and pressed his shoulder into the buttstock. The shouts were almost impossible to hear over the constant barrage of gunfire. He scanned the blackness of night, waiting for the distant fireflies to sing their song and attract their mate. Muzzles flashed and he could hear the voice of his Team Leader, Corporal Allen, yelling over everything.
“There. 11 o’clock!” he shouted, pointing.
Griff didn’t need the help. Without thinking he pointed the rifle at the last location of the flashes. His finger squeezed and three to five rounds erupted from the barrel. The bullets flew like angry hornets towards their target. Within seconds another muzzle flash, more hornets in response. Griff carried on like this for almost a minute. Corporal Allen was shouting and cheering him on the whole time.
“Fuck yeah! That’s how you do it!”
Suddenly something had touched Griff’s foot, and he kicked out reflexively.
“Fuck! Corporal! Corporal!” Griff shouted as he snuffed out more candlelight flashes.
“What?!” Allen shouted back over the constant hammering of machine gun fire.
“Something just grabbed my Goddamned foot! I don’t know what it is, but something fucking grabbed me!” Griff continued his single-minded task of three to five round bursts while he yelled.
Allen, who had been standing behind Griff and his desktop firing position, suddenly leaned forward and peered over the front of the desk.
“You little piece of shit!” Allen yelled, and he grabbed what Griff thought was a boot. He could only catch bits and pieces out of his peripheral vision.
It was a boot. Soon Corporal Allen was pulling a whole body from the front of the desk. Griff could see it was a soldier.
“What are you doing, shitbag!” Allen yelled at the soldier.
“Please! Please! This isn’t why I joined. I’m communications!” he responded. He laid on the ground. Allen tried to pull him up, but every time he did the communications soldier would just go limp and become dead weight.
“Get up and fight!” Allen yelled.
He curled up in a ball. Griff noticed that he looked so young. He was probably the same age as Griff, but the stress of war ages you.
He was crying, “No. Please no! This isn’t why I joined!”
Griff had often thought about that sentence after the firefight. He wondered how someone could enlist into the military and then claim they didn’t join to fight. What did he think would happen if a war broke out?
“I didn’t sign up for this! I’m not you!” he continued yelling.
Suddenly the crying turned into pained heaves. Griff stopped scanning long enough to glance over. Corporal Allen had started kicking the young soldier in the ribs.
“Fuck!” He yelled as he kicked, “You!” he continued, screaming as he heaved massive kick after massive kick into the soldier.
“You absolute waste!” he yelled as another boot landed squarely into the crying soldier’s side. Soon the crying and yelling had subsided. Corporal Allen was satisfied with this result and immediately went back to his position behind Griff.
“Fuck yeah! Keep killing them!” He yelled.