Chapter 29:
Snare

The tent’s interior was dim in the spare sunshine that managed to seep inside, and Jack was looking down at his gauze-wrapped hand. Six weeks had passed since the fight, and the roasted skin never stopped itching and aching. The burns could have been a lot worse, he admitted, but he was still short a hand. His good hand, even.

He made due. He started carrying a forty-five caliber handgun and learned to shoot left-handed. That hand felt damn near useless and learning to aim reliably was a struggle, but after a bit of practice, it started to come around.

He stretched his burnt fingers then made a fist, and had to grit his teeth against the pain. He had no room to complain, though. It took the surgeons a week to dig all the shrapnel out of Nikitin’s side, and he was still in a med-tent somewhere recuperating. With a little luck, he’d be back on the frontlines soon. Rebecca Hartnell didn’t fair as well; she got caught in direct fire that night, and one of the rhino’s autocannons took a fist-sized chunk out of her shoulder. She survived, but it was a safe bet her left arm would never work quite right again. Despite her best protesting, she was taken off active duty and given a desk job in the armory.

Considering all of that, Jack had made out alright. His hand would never be pretty, but it would work once he got the bandages off. Streaks of scarred skin twisted up from the hand towards his elbow, like permanently etched flames, and they’d serve as a reminder that the situation was never under control, no matter how simple it appeared.

He stepped out of the tent and into the full light of day. The sun hung directly overhead, and a dusty canyon stretched off in two directions beneath him. Their camp was on the Sinai Peninsula, in a known high-traffic area thirty klicks east of where the Suez Canal met the Red Sea. His troops were spread out in three-man groups along the top of the canyon, and his own was the furthest south.

Lisa Albright was a couple meters away with her rifle held across her chest. Stories of her exploits on the Gaza Strip spread quickly after their return, and she’d become a minor celebrity. As far as anyone knew, she was the only person to kill a rhino in hand-to-hand. Of course, rumors grew and twisted as they spread, and half the resistance now thought she’d faced the beast in single combat and snapped its neck with her bare hands. That was just the way rumors worked, Jack supposed.

She wore a dark red beret that someone gave her, and with her camouflage painted face, she looked less like a physician every day and more like a very tiny commando.

There were stories about Jack, too, but nothing like Albright’s tall tales. The brass were talking about his quick thinking and ability to stay cool under pressure, and in an organization starved for leadership, a lot of eyes were on him all of a sudden. His only option was to pick up the ball and run with it.

The resistance had scored a few small victories over the previous weeks, minor annoyances at best, but Jack thought it time to start really pissing the invaders off. He wasn’t content to skulk around the night setting booby traps. He wanted to do something bold and noisy. Something the enemy couldn’t ignore.

The Bravos, whose ranks had swollen to a few dozen soldiers, hid along the canyon for three days straight. They watched the alien walkers sprint through at two-hundred KPH, and they figured out a rough schedule. Around noon, single walkers tended to come through every forty-two minutes, and there were never any security sweeps or air support. The enemy considered this a safe region.

“Whaddya think, hero? Today the day?” Albright asked.

He nodded. “We’ll hit the next one that comes through.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m tired of this shit hole.”

Charlie Hernandez came bounding up the slope a moment later. Most of his black, bug-like armor was hidden under overlapping pieces of ragged cloth, and he looked like some kind of vagrant grasshopper.

The higher-ups wanted someone to observe and report back on the viability of Jack’s tactic. Charlie was between posts at the time and quickly volunteered. “The chain is set and ready to go. The forward team’s just waiting for a target,” he said in his mechanically altered voice.

“What about Trash’s group?”

“Locked and loaded.”

There was nothing left to do but take cover and wait.

Twenty minutes later, they spotted a dust cloud at the northern end of the canyon. Jack raised his binoculars up, and could see the alien walker galloping in at full speed.

“Here she comes,” he said.

From his vantage point, he could hardly see the forward team’s position five hundred meters on, and he couldn’t see the chain at all. That’s how it was supposed to be.

Then, just as the walker was about to pass the forward team, the thick metal chain snapped taught eight meters above the ground. The walker saw it at the last moment and tried to stop, but it was too late. Its forward legs buckled and snapped, and the vehicle lurched forward, tumbling end over end through the narrow canyon, and then skidded along the rocky soil.

It ground to a halt amid a thick cloud of kicked up dust right under Jack’s position. Trash’s team immediately went into action.

“Fire one!” Trash hollered, and a rocket propelled grenade raced down from out of the rocks with a hiss, followed by a trail of white smoke. The shot struck the back of the walker’s body and exploded in a ball of fire and debris.

“All clear!”

It was time for Jack’s team to move. He, Charlie and Albright rushed down the side of the canyon, interspersing quick hops with controlled slides through the loose soil. By the time they came to the bottom, the smoke had cleared and the walker lay face first in the dirt with its blasted ass in the air, broken and twitching, a massive singed hole where its back-end used to be.

Chase and Trash came down the opposite side, and stopped behind a rock above the walker. They had their rifles trained on the wreckage. “Got yer back, chief!”

Jack team moved. His team clambered up the side of the vehicle and swept their barrels across the opening, ready to take down anything still moving. There was no motion inside the vehicle, only strangely colored blood and carnage. “Sweep through and put a round in every skull. No survivors. Charlie, you documenting this?”

“Recording as we speak,” Charlie said. “We’ll have plenty of footage.”

“Good. Albright, pick out two good specimens of each kind.”

“Roger that,” she said.

The creatures were strapped to the walls with tendril-like harnesses, much like the inside of a leviathan, actually. Jack quickly pushed the thought out of his head before he had a chance to feel anything approaching sympathy.

The three soldiers moved through row by row, and finished each occupant with a single round to the head. It was mechanical work, and they did it quickly and without passion.

“Jack, take a look at this,” Albright said from the front of the cabin.

He strode over to meet her, and found her standing before a creature they hadn’t seen before. Its flesh was shiny and off-white, like uncooked scallop meat. It was thin and spindly, with no apparent bone structure. It had six arms, a finned tail, and a bulb of a head with thin mouth and a single, off-center blue-green eye.

It sat in some kind of cradle, with its arms hooked into burrows in the walker’s flesh. It was alive, but badly wounded. It mewled in pain and fear.

“Must be the pilot,” Albright said.

Jack nodded. He thought back to the first village back in China, and remembered the floating, six armed creature that directed the operations there. It shape was right, but all of the details were different. “Sounds about right. I think they wear some kind of armor when they go outside.”

The thing was twitching uncontrollably, and whenever it jerked, the ruined walker quaked. It looked up at Jack with pleading in its giant eye, and it whimpered.

Jack had his forty-five in hand the whole time. He raised the weapon to the creature’s head and pulled the trigger, splashing grey and green on the wall behind. The creature was silent.

“You’re a cold son of a bitch, Jack.”

“You should talk,” he said. “If you can get it out of the cradle, take this one too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack heard the rumble of their troop transport outside. The forward team packed up faster than expected. That was good news. They needed to get out before the next walker came.

In silence, Jack and his team carried the alien corpses out, loaded them into the transport, and left for Al Saif. They left the broken walker out in the open, where it would be found a half-hour later. Jack hoped the message was clear.