Installation 02, Ch01

We walked through the long, dark corridors, the bodies of our fallen comrades haunting us. We were all low on ammo, and Mike was down to a combat knife. I myself still had a little more than one magazine left in my MA5, and had a few rounds left in my M6. Ever since this outbreak, we've all been nerve-racked, on edge, and stressed as hell. The Sarge made contact with a UNSC ship in orbit a few days ago, but no help has arrived for us. These blood-splattered walls and spent casings just remind us of how much we've lost since we landed here.

As I said, coming here was a mistake. Should've just left the Installations for the Covies to have, not like they could activate 'em.

Connor keeps suggesting we abandon the facility and go to the surface, and while none of us want to stay down here, it's a lot safer than it is on the surface, out in the open. It's suicide out there. Even if we could get evac, we'd risk spreading infection. No one wants that. So we've waited.

Right now, it's our only real chance at surviving. We either stay inside, relatively safe, or go outside and be slaughtered. We've already had other Marines try to go out there, and it didn't work. So why would it work for us?

...

"Suppressing fire!" shouted the Sarge. Hostiles had breached our makeshift barrier, comprised of crates and whatever else we could scrap up. Their wretched, deformed heads hung off to the sides of their shoulders, the parasite nestled into their heart. These three were all Marines, which disturbed me. I had known those men, before they were converted. The first two burst through, unarmed, however, the third wielded an MA5. I'm sure we'd all appreciate the restock.

They went down with ease, and the Sarge made sure we dismembered them so they couldn't get back up. The Sarge and Mike collected ammunition from their fallen comrades, while the rest of us put the barrier back up.

Oscar kept an eye on the entrance, M6 at the ready.

Everyone heard the movement ahead, and Oscar shouted to us, "Hurry up with the barrier, they're coming!" As he was alerting us, I was stacking an additional crate onto the barrier. Some of us slammed against the barrier, trying to keep any oncoming hostiles out.

"You know we're going to have to leave this place." Stated Connor. I knew he was right. We'd either run out of rations, or be slaughtered. Most of the others still disagreed, thought we'd be better off down here. Honestly, we would if we had more food, water, and ammo. But we didn't.

"Sensors show that a very large group is coming our way," said Mike, "however, there aren't very many more showing up after that. This could be our chance, sir." Sarge agreed.

Everyone loaded their weapons, and prepared for the worst. I tossed Mike my last frag, hoping he could do more with it than he could with his knife. He nodded in thanks, and then returned his eyes to the barrier. The sounds were getting louder, their haunting screams and their loud banging.

After what felt like an eternity, the barriers burst open. The small, insect-like Infection Forms ran through, crawling up the walls and across the floor. As minor of a nuisance as they were, in all truthfulness, they were the most threatening. The squad stomped and slammed them with the butts of their rifles.

Next, came countless Combat Forms, with a range of variation. The strain on this Installation seemed to be able to infect more organisms, resulting in the production of infected Grunts and Jackals. Marine Combat Forms ran first, most unarmed, the rest carrying MA5s or M7s. As depressing and horrific as it was, they were the first to be eliminated. Then came the infected Covenant, the first we'd seen in a while, which was honestly a breath of fresh air, as it also gave us access to some good Plasma-based weaponry. Infected Grunts ran through with Plasma Pistols and Needlers, firing wildly. Some of the Jackals still had their shields, although embedded in their arms. It was all just a stream of things to kill.

Mike tossed the frag, and watched it send numerous Combat Forms flying across the room, most of them now dead. Mike, himself, ran back to an infected Grunt and grabbed the Needler and some ammunition from its belt. A few others ran back, grabbed UNSC ammo from some of our fallen comrades.

I, however, just continued firing into the incoming horde. Spent rounds hit the floor, while my rifle was hot. My mag ran out, and I was down to 23 rounds. I reloaded, and just fired as much as I could. As my rifle clicked empty, the Sarge tossed me a magazine he'd grabbed from one of the infected. I reloaded as fast as I could, and returned to knocking down anything that moved.

Looking back, while we considered that a victory, that was just the start of our conflict with the Flood.