"What are they doing?" asked Jimmy. He was gazing through the night vision scope of a law enforcement issued Mossberg 500 equipped with a suppressor for stealth.
"I don't know," whispered his older companion, Ben, in reply. "There's no Mechs with them."
"That's weird," breathed the younger of the two.
"The one with the Red Eye creeps me out," said Ben peering out at the set of three, despicable, monsters wandering up ahead.
Jimmy nodded in agreement and slid the pump handle on his gun back, releasing the used shell. He pulled out a small gold and black cartridge and loaded it into the chamber of the shotgun.
"Is that one of the Berserker's Dragon's Breath rounds?" Ben asked with wide eyes.
"Yeah," Jimmy answered, looking down to make sure he'd slid the round in correctly. "Boasting the crown of pyrotechnics; bye, bye buckshot, hello flamethrower and I've got two of 'em." The armed boy pushed the pump handle forward with a satisfying click.
"Let's toast some cockroaches," Ben grinned. Jimmy gave a nod and a quick, excited smile.
"Yeah, ok." The sandy haired teen cleared his throat and, almost immediately, caught the intruders' attention. Ducking their heads even lower behind the fallen branch, they peaked out from between the dead log's appendages. As they drew nearer he held up a hand to his partner. "Wait for it," he said quietly. "Wait for it," the volume of his voice elevated at the aliens drew nearer. "NOW!" he shouted
Jimmy jumped up and pulled the trigger sending a wall of inferno toward the first Skitter. He spun on his heel and shot again, sending another wave of flame to descend upon the second.
Ben leapt over the dead tree and charged the remaining beast, knife in hand. It snarled and spread its gnarly hands wide as if to say, "I can take you!" The Red-Eyed Skitter caught the middle Mason by the wrists and forced him to the leaf coated, forest floor. Ben's eyes widened as he stared up at the imposter.
Seeing how the Skitter attacked Ben, Jimmy felt his heart leap into his throat. In a panic he reloaded his gun with regular buckshot and took aim. The shot whizzed through the air and, like some sort of super bug, the Skitter dodged the bullet with ease. Out of ammo, Jimmy charged the Red Eyes, gun raised with intentions of beating it as a last resort. Without even blinking an eye it tore the gun from the young boy's hand and threw it to the ground before shoving him twenty feet into an old oak. Bashing the back of his head into its trunk, Jimmy let out an almost inaudible grunt before crumpling to the ground at the tree's roots.
"Jimmy!" Ben screamed; horrified as he whipped his head around, watching his best friend's body make the hard impact. Though the beast had been momentarily distracted by the other boy it turned back to Ben with an unfinished business look in its eye.
Ben scrambled to his feet, dagger still in hand, and now an urge to get revenge for Jimmy. He charged the Skitter, but it couldn't have been more ready. Having barely made contact with the boy, something in him changed at the Skitter's touch. His body relaxed and he slowly lowered his blade. A blank stare came over his eyes and his mouth hung wide. The area around him took on an ominous, luminescent blue glow as the spikes in his back lit up.
Oblivious to the thuds of the approaching Mech, Ben watched, but didn't really see, as it shot a harmless blue ray at Jimmy's already unconscious body. Ensuring sedation, Ben would assume later, when he had regained his own psyche.
The thing continued to chortle and click, an intangible hand anchoring Ben to the spot. When the Skitter released him and his spikes dimmed he fell to his knees, the Mech had scooped a motionless Jimmy into its metallic arms. Still unable to absorb his surroundings, Ben remained frozen in place to watch as one of the few people he trusted was taken away. Without taking its eyes off of him, the Red Eye scampered away, following the fading thumps of the retreating Mech deep into the woods.
The moment the Skitter was out of earshot Ben snapped the rest of the way out of his trance. A ghost of a memory reminded him the Jimmy was gone but the desperate boy couldn't quite believe it; not his best friend, not now. He got to his feet in slow disbelief and sauntered to the trunk of the tree. All that had been left behind was a pool of blood.
"No!" Ben shouted; a panicked tear dropped off his cheek. Maybe if he got back quick enough to the 2nd Mass they'd go after him. He sprinted back to camp and the moment he was close enough to be heard began to scream for help. Lourdes was the first to respond. She came running down the steps of the med bus.
"Ben," she murmured, standing directly in front of him with a hand on either one of his shoulders. "Calm down."
"No!" he retorted with frustration. "Jimmy! They took Jimmy!"
By that time Weaver and Tom; captains of the 2nd Massachusetts resistance, as well as Ben's older brother, Hal, emerged from one of the tents and jogged toward the commotion.
"What happened, Son?" asked Tom; his head cocked with concern.
"Jimmy," Ben repeated. His face began to contort with tears. "They took him,"
Weaver's eyes widened at the mention of his surrogate son. "Who took him?"
"The Skitters, we were o—
Weaver cut him off. "Wait a minute," his voice returned to its usual gruff authority. "What in hell were you two doing out there, Ben?"
"H-hunting Skitters," Ben replied, panting. He was staring at his feet.
"Hunting? Is that what you two were doing when you found Dad last night?" The eldest Mason asked with crossed arms.
"What were you and Jimmy doing hunting Skitters, Ben?" Tom's eyes narrowed as he glared at his son. Obviously retained anger bubbled behind the quiet words.
Ben replied, brow furrowed, breathless and defensive. He looked up at his father and it was clear that he was not fully there. "Put spikes in my back, killed Mom, killed everyone! I need a reason?"
"Like we don't see enough combat that you have to go out looking for it?" Weaver asked. He gave Ben a look of skeptical disgust.
"'Till every last one of those things is dead…yes." Ben finished completely out of breath.
Tom and Weaver made a frightened eye contact that said a million words. "Hal, take your brother back to the tent," said Tom, unable to look at his middle child.
"No, I'm not going back to the tent. We have to go get Jimmy. We have to get people to help us find Jimmy!" The panicked air about Ben had all but dissipated.
"You can't go around camp looking like that," Tom explained in an elevated tone. "Go change first." His words were final as he managed a meaningful stare at his son.
Ben took off towards the tent; couldn't waste a minute longer. Jimmy could be killed, or tortured, or worst of all: harnessed.
"Ben, hold up!" Hal called after his younger brother.
"No, we've got to hurry," Ben mumbled without even looking back.
"Ben!" Hal called again. This time he stopped in hopes that his brother would too. The sandy haired Mason whipped around on his heel.
"Every minute that I waste trying to explain, is another minute that Jimmy is not here. We have to go get him. Aren't you going to help me?" Ben stared at his brother and his face fell as his elder gave a slight shake of his head and held up his hands.
"Look, Ben," he started slowly. "We're going to get him back, but going in with our 'guns half-cocked' as Weaver would say isn't going to do us any good. We have to retreat, regroup, return, and then when we're ready…" Hal waited for Ben to finish the phrase that had become their father's tag line.
"Revenge."
"Exactly," said Hal, lowering his hands. "We'll get him back, bro. Now let's go get you cleaned up, then we'll find Dad and Weaver, and we'll figure out a plan."
Ben nodded in agreement and allowed his brother to fall into step with him as they headed, together, back to the tent. Suddenly, feeling the exhaustion of the night's events catching up with him Ben, nearly against his will, ended up sound asleep in his cot.