Special Delivery

a Gears Of War short by Alex McGregor

The deep, loud thunder of the King Raven's rotor blades filled the open space of the small passenger bay with almost deafening noise. Private Derek Chambers sat on his armoured COG helmet and looked out from the open bay and took a long pull from his thick cigar as he regarded the other Raven that was flying alongside them. The companion craft was carrying what was considered humanity's last, best hope of ending the frightful war with the Locust Horde – the experimental Light Mass Bomb. Tearing his gaze away from the vehicle they were escorting, Derek glanced at his long time squad-mate Sergeant Steven "Skipper" Jackson. The Sergeant had an athletic build and was well over six-feet tall. His hair was black and styled into short spikes with a neatly trimmed beard covering his cheeks and chin. A black patch covered the vicious wound to his left eye that he had received in a close call during an exchange of Lancer chainsaw bayonets with a Locust Drone a month ago.

Derek and Skipper had once been enemies as they had been on opposing sides during the Pendulum Wars but any rivalries or resentments were quickly and completely forgotten on Emergence Day when the Horde broke from its subterranean labyrinth and wrought death and destruction on humanity, irrespective of race, colour, or creed. Like Private Chambers, Sergeant Jackson was also sitting on his armoured helmet. This attracted the attention of the rookie that was riding the Raven with the two members of Nu Squad. Private Atkinson was fresh out of the COG academy at Jacinto and his very first assignment was to ride with Nu Squad on their bomb escort mission. He was as green as a cabbage.

'S-sir?' Atkinson's voice was distorted slightly by his helmet and was barely audible above the roar of the Raven's blades. None-the-less, Sergeant Jackson turned his good eye on the kid.

'What is it Private?' Skipper asked in a laid-back drawl.

The rookie indicated the Sergeant's helmet. 'I-I was just wondering what's the deal with sitting on your helmets?'

A smirk crossed Skippers face and he turned to his cigar smoking companion. 'Tell him Derek.'

Private Chambers shifted his massively muscled bulk and adjusted the Lancer he was clutching. Derek was huge, with a build that rivalled the legendary Augustus Cole, and was never seen without a weapon of some kind in his hand. This had led to rumours that he even took his Lancer with him when he went to the shitter. The man's head was shaved smooth and deep, thick brows cast dark shadows over his penetrating eyes.

'Little while back,' Derek rumbled. 'A Raven was flying patrol over the Wastes. It took some fire from a group of Locust on the ground. They made it back but not before some rounds penetrated the underside of the Raven and tagged a Rook that was ridin' in it.'

Even though Atkinson's face was hidden behind his helmet, Derek could sense that the kid's eyes had widened in fear. 'D-did he d-die?'

'Nope.' replied Derek as he shook his head. 'He lived… but his nuts got blown clean off. '

Skipper tapped his helmet with a gauntleted hand. 'That's why.'

Private Atkinson raised his hands to pull off his helmet but stopped as the voice of the pilot barked over the intercom.

'Heads up people! We've got Nemacysts inbound!'

Derek and Skipper quickly stood up and searched the sky for the flying, tentacled Locust bombs. Derek spotted them first.

'Eleven o'clock!' he yelled as he whacked the shoulder of the gunner that stood with the mounted weapon in the Raven's bay, a finger pointing out in the direction of the incoming swarm of beasts. After indicating their position, the Private lifted his Lancer and began to open fire. A split second later the gunner opened up a volley of fire, sending a barrage of white-hot streaks of lead in the direction of the Nemacyts.

Private Atkinson seemed startled by the sudden intense gunfire and covered his head with his arms, completely ignoring his own weapon. Sergeant Jackson wasn't impressed and reached down to yank the rookie to his feet.

'Get up soldier!' he yelled. 'Get your ass in gear and start firing!' the furious Sergeant picked up Atkinson's Lancer and thrust it at the visibly shaking rookie. Skipper briefly wondered what the hell they were teaching the kids in the academy these days.

Shaken from his panic, Private Atkinson grabbed the Lancer and took up position next to Derek. Training took over his terrified mind and he began to fire towards the rapidly approaching swarm.

Satisfied that the kid had gotten his shit together, Sergeant Jackson looked out at the Raven they were escorting and saw that the crew there had begun to fire on the Nemacysts. He also noticed that, despite their combined fire, the veritable cloud of swarming black creatures were still closing the distance to the vehicles. He could almost see what was inevitably going to happen.

'Fuck it.' he muttered as he raised his own Lancer and added his fire to the hail of bullets that desperately tried to stop the Locust bombs. When the Sergeant realised that they weren't going to stop the creatures he remembered Colonel Hoffman's last words to him before he set off on the mission: "Make sure that bomb gets delivered – no matter the cost!" A grim determination descended over Skipper and he ceased firing his weapon as he raised a hand to the com device in his ear.

'Whiskey One, this is Whiskey Two.' he signalled the pilot of the second King Raven .

'Go ahead Whiskey Two' came the reply in the Sergeant's ear, the pilot's voice was dead calm.

'Break off and bank left. We'll hold these bastards long enough for you to get away.'

There was a moment's pause as Whiskey One considered this. 'Roger Whiskey Two we are disengaging… good luck.'

As Skipper saw the Raven break formation and peel off he spoke through his com to the pilot of the vehicle they were in. 'Pilot! Accelerate and take us straight into those bastards! We have to give the others a chance to get away.'

The Sergeant noticed Derek turn and look at him. The comrades exchanged a stare then the massive, bald Private broke into a wide grin, turned, and recommenced firing as the Raven sped up. Everyone on the craft knew what was at stake and knew how important the Light Mass Bomb was. What were their lives compared to those of the rest of what was left of humanity?

Private Atkinson didn't quite seem to grasp the bigger picture. Upon hearing Sergeant Jackson's instructions he stopped firing and looked about.

'W-what? B-b-but we'll die!' there was obvious panic in his voice and it made Skipper sick to his stomach.

The one-eyed Sergeant raised his Lancer towards the quivering rookie and revved the chainsaw bayonet a few times. 'If you don't start firing I'll kill you myself.' his voice was flat and emotionless.

There was a momentary stand off that was suddenly broken by Private Chambers.

'Hold onto your asses guys, here they come!' he then roared and continued firing.

Atkinson and Jackson turned and looked just in time to see the mass of Nemacysts collide with the Raven as the pilot took them straight into the swirling maelstrom of black, glistening beasts.

The initial impact blew the nose of the Raven clean off, instantly slaying the pilots within and sending the aircraft into a wild spin as it began to plummet from the sky. Further detonations hit the body of the craft, blowing away sections of the fuselage. A flaming, jagged section of the hull tore through the passenger bay and cleaved Private Atkinson clean in half, casting the severed top half of his body out into the exploding mass of Nemacysts that were following the Raven as it fell to the ground. The unfortunate rookie's legs remained where they were for a surreal moment before falling out of the bay in a trail of severed entrails.

Another detonation rocked the spinning vehicle and the gunner's harness snapped, the momentum of the spin throwing him from the craft and out into the cloud of creatures. An instant later he vanished from view amidst the heaving, undulating cloud.

Skipper and Derek held on for dear life, both of them fiercely gripping onto a handrail that was secured to the edge of the bay opening. Neither of them said anything as they awaited their fate. Skipper found it almost amusing that his massive companion had managed to retain his cigar and was grinning broadly at him as they plummeted towards the ruined landscape below.

With a sense of calm, detached fascination, Sergeant Jackson watched as, one-by-one, his fingers lost their grip on the rail that was the only thing keeping him from the swirling, exploding Nemacysts, open sky, and – if he was that lucky - hard ground. The last thing he saw before he was catapulted from the dying craft was Derek's grin.

Like a bullet from a Boltok pistol, Skipper flew out of the King Raven and into the Nemacysts. He noted with mild satisfaction, even as the creatures exploded around him, that his gambit had paid off – none of the Locust beasts had pursued the aircraft carrying the precious bomb. Instinctively the Sergeant tucked himself up and twisted as he sailed through the air. In what was nothing short of a miracle, not a single Nemacyst hit him and he exited the cloud of beasts with a feeling of relief mixed with disbelief. It was then that he saw the spinning, smoking carcass of the Raven smash down into the ground, flame and smoke pouring from the wreck. A couple of Nemacysts exploded into it, as if just to make sure, then the swirling mass of beasts pulled away like a twisting column of black death and flew off into the sky.

Skipper was pretty sure that Derek would be dead after that. Still falling, the one-eyed Sergeant turned in midair to try and see what it was that he would hit when the earth eventually caught up with him. In the seconds remaining before impact he saw that he was heading straight for what had once been a small forest, the once lush trees now dead with their grey, brittle branches reaching out to him like bony fingers. Having resigned himself to death upon the first spotting of the Nemacysts, Skipper felt only a sense of acceptance as the branches of the dead forest sped towards him. At the last moment before impact he instinctively curled into a ball, pulling his armoured arms around his head.

Sudden impact, a brief, loud snapping sound that he hoped was wood and not bone, and Sergeant Jackson was plunged into blackness.

Skipper was equally surprised and confused when, after an indeterminate amount of time, he opened his eye and found himself alive. He looked up and saw a path of snapped and smashed branches directly above him and realised that he had survived the fall from a combination of the branches taking the force from his descent and the COG armour keeping him intact upon impact. Never-the-less it was nothing short of miraculous that he was still breathing, even more so when he slowly got to his feet and realised that nothing was broken. Apart from a few scratches on his face from snapped branches he was completely unscathed. The one-eyed Sergeant had never considered him self particularly religious but he muttered a thanks to whom ever was listening.

Swiftly getting over the wonderment of his survival, Skipper's thoughts turned to Derek. He quickly jogged to the edge of the dead forest, his booted feet crunching on the fallen branches. Once clearing the trees Skipper scanned the horizon and located the smoke plume from the Raven wreck. Convinced it was a futile effort, but resolute that he had to be sure of Derek's fate, he began to jog towards the impact spot.

After twenty minutes Sergeant Jackson slowed to a walk as he came upon the smashed and virtually obliterated remnants of the vehicle he had been in only a short while ago. Wreckage was scattered in a wide arc around the crash site, with debris lying in flaming piles as much as one-hundred feet away. What was left of the main fuselage was a twisted, broken hulk that was still partially burning. Skipper regarded the wreck with a mournful look – there was no way his companion could have survived that. He closed his eye and lowered his head.

The sound of scraping metal made him look up again. A section of the smoking wreck was slowly moving, as if being shifted from inside. Skipper hurriedly looked about, searching for a weapon in case a Locust was rummaging around in the wreckage. Even a Wretch could prove deadly to an unarmed opponent. Spotting a snapped section of metal pole lying nearby, he picked it up and prepared himself for battle. When the moving section of wreckage finally came lose and fell to the ground, the improvised weapon nearly fell from his hands in shock at what he saw.

Private Derek Chambers heaved the burning metal wreckage from him self and slowly stood up. As he looked around at the destruction he was mildly surprised to see Sergeant Jackson standing a few feet away holding what looked like a metal pipe. Derek grinned and chewed on the seemingly immortal cigar that was still between his lips.

'Rough ride, huh Skipper?' he said.

The Sergeant lowered the metal bar and shook his head in disbelief. 'How the fu-? No, never mind. It doesn't matter. Are you okay?'

The massive, bald man checked himself quickly then paused as his eyes caught a glint at his feet. Bending down he picked up his Lancer assault rifle and quickly checked it. 'I am now .' he replied when he saw the weapon was operational. He then bent down again and picked up an undamaged Carnage shotgun and stepped out from amidst the wreckage. The shotgun was tossed to Skipper and the two soldiers surveyed the crash site.

The immediate area was a blasted wasteland consisting of baked, cracked earth and small pockets of dead vegetation.

Derek rubbed the back of his head. 'Okay Skipper, what now?'

The Sergeant raised a hand to his ear. 'Command, this is Nu Squad. Come in.'

Silence.

Skipper pulled the com device from his ear and cursed when he saw the small unit was damaged beyond repair. The useless object was tossed to the ground and he threw a questioning look at his companion.

'Command, this is Nu Squad. Are you receiving?' said Derek as he touched his own ear. There was a moment's pause and the big man shook his head and pulled out his own defunct com unit and tossed it away.

Sergeant Jackson scratched his beard and considered his options.

'Okay,' he said in a decisive tone. 'I'm pretty sure we flew over a small town on the way out here. It's a good few clicks back that way but I think it's our best bet.'

Private Chambers looked out towards where his Sergeant was pointing. He didn't remember seeing any such settlement, but then he did have to admit that he had maybe been a bit preoccupied with staring at the clouds as they flew in the Raven (he was even convinced that one such cloud had closely resembled his Lancer, but he wasn't going to mention that). 'Okay Skipper.' he said with a shrug.

Just as the two men were about to begin their hike there was a deep rumbling sound from beneath the ground. Both of them instantly recognised the tell-tale sign of an imminent emergence hole.

'You've gotta be kidding me!' yelled Skipper as he watched cracks begin to form in the ground nearby. 'Take cover!'

The two Gears ran for the wreckage of the crashed King Raven , using the debris as cover. With a tearing, imploding sound the cracks in the ground split open and a large hole appeared in the earth accompanied by a cloud of dirt and a bestial roar from beneath. Both soldiers aimed their weapons at the emergence hole and waited for the Locust to appear.

'Come on!' snarled Derek between gritted teeth.

To be continued…