Yay, two updates in one day! Like I said, this chapter is a lot more exciting than the last one. Please enjoy!
Owen woke in the morning to the sound of a Bloatfly buzzing near his door.
He sighed and rolled out of bed, nearly crashing into the wall as he did. He grabbed his jacket from off the floor and shrugged it over his clothes from the previous day. Mumbling a drowsy curse, he grabbed his laser musket from his footlocker. He cranked it once, opened the door to his shed, and shot the Bloatfly dead on in less than three seconds. Luckily, the pest was far enough away that when it exploded, none of the guts got on his clothes.
Owen rubbed his face and grabbed a box of Dandy Apples and the wonderglue he'd bought before heading to the weapons workbench around the side of the farmhouse. All his tools were still there from the previous morning, but luckily Owen didn't need any complicated work done on his gun. The capacitor was still a little loose.
Owen munched on his breakfast as he worked, carefully applying the wonderglue to his laser musket. Maybe today he'd venture up near the old factory that had once been occupied by raiders. Everyone was too afraid of it to go near, which meant that there was good salvage to be had somewhere.
It happened quickly.
Ka-bang!
Owen immediately straightened, putting his hand on his rifle. Had one of the guards accidentally fired their gun again?
Ka-bang! Ka-bang! Somebody screamed.
Owen was instantly in action, grabbing his laser musket and crouching down so he could peer around the corner of the farmhouse. More gunshots broke out, but he couldn't see anything from this angle. Staying low to the ground, Owen sprinted to his shed and crouched behind it.
BANG! In the distance, something exploded, but Owen still felt the ground vibrate. A grenade?
Multiple people were screaming now. The sound was deafening. Owen cranked his musket twice and looked around the corner of his shed.
What he saw froze him to the spot for a single moment only.
Gunners had invaded the farm.
They were all dressed in green military gear, sporting combat armor and bandanas. All of them carried energy weapons, but a few had frag grenades hanging from their belts. There had to have been at least twenty of them, pouring into the farm from the west. All were firing into the farmhouse, sending wood and brick flying everywhere. A couple farmhands were trying to fight back, but all they were equipped with was pipe pistols and rifles. They were no match for the coordinated attack of the mercenaries.
Horrified, Owen watched three farmhands get shot down by a single gunner. One of them was Joshua. His pipe pistol rolled from his limp hands.
Hate filled Owen's chest. This was a peaceful farm, yet the Gunners were killing everyone in sight just for their goods!
He growled a curse that would have earned a smack upside the head from his father. No way in hell was he letting the Gunners take Finch Farm.
Owen cranked his laser musket once more for good measure and leaned around the side of his shed, lining up the Gunner that had killed Joshua in his sights. Owen aimed for the head, breathed out, and pulled the trigger. BOOM! One Gunner down.
Owen cranked his rifle two times, then aimed for a Gunner who was pulling the pin off a grenade. BOOM! The Gunner collapsed, and the grenade exploded in his dead hands, taking two others with him. Four Gunners.
The screaming had lowered in frequency. Was that a good or a bad thing? Was anyone else fighting back? He didn't have time to think about it, because the Gunners were not as stupid as he thought. A small group, maybe six of them, noticed the sniper taking out their men and fired back.
Ka-bang ka-bang ka-bang! Three shots slammed into the front of Owen's shed, setting the front on fire.
Owen cursed and pulled his head back to safety. These were not good odds. He had a less than 7 percent chance of surviving. How he knew that, he had no idea. It would have been greater had he taken some of his grenades back down with him from the overpass the previous night.
The overpass! If he could get up there, he might be able to wait them out, maybe pick a few of them off from safety.
But he'd have to leave cover to get to the steel cable. And even if he could make it there, and if he could climb up faster than he ever had before, he'd still be exposed for an awfully long time.
Owen cranked his laser musket twice. He couldn't just do nothing. It wasn't a very good plan, but it was all that he had.
The screaming had stopped completely now. Was he the only one left, or were the others in hiding?
He took a breath and looked around the side of the shed. Six gunners were taking cover behind an old pickup truck, firing on his position relentlessly. Sweat trickled down his back as the heat from his burning shed reached him. Owen aimed for one of the gunners on the far side of the truck and pulled the trigger. Missed. Luckily, the truck they were hiding behind must have had some power still left in it. When his energy bolt struck it in the side, it penetrated the steel skin.
BANG! The car exploded with a blinding miniature nuclear mushroom.
Owen ducked behind cover and couldn't believe his luck. Ten Gunners down.
"What the hell is going on out there?" a deep voice demanded. It sounded strange, like it was being broadcast through some kind of speaker.
Owen peered out from around the corner. Striding towards the still flaming car, the rest of the Gunners behind him, was a man in power armor. It was black and held red stripes around the edge of each limb. The man—the commander of the Gunner squad, most likely—turned towards Owen for just a moment, and he could just barely make out the symbol of two wings with gears wedged between them before he ducked back into cover. Maybe they hadn't seen him yet?
But no. Owen heard the commander say, "Finish off the straggler, men. What we're looking for isn't here." Instantly, more laser bolts slammed into what was left of his shed. In a few moments, he wouldn't have any cover left. But with all the men concentrating on him, he wouldn't be able to climb up to the overpass.
Time to go out with a bang.
Owen cranked his laser musket as many times as he could without creating an explosion and rolled out from behind cover. He came up with the rifle to his shoulder, his eye to the scope. But the commander in power armor wasn't visible, so he switched to the first soldier that he saw and pulled the trigger.
BOOM! The Gunner was launched backwards with so much force that he knocked over the mercenary behind him.
Ka-bang! A laser bolt sped past Owen's head, burning his ear. He cranked his gun once and fired, but the Gunner it hit was wearing combat armor over his chest, so the shot did minimal damage.
Owen dived behind the farmhouse, but something still grazed his leg. Pain pulsed through him, but it was manageable. He swore and was in the middle of cranking his laser musket again when something whished past his ear.
Owen barely had time to register that it didn't sound like an energy blast before pain shot through him, originating from his shoulder. He fell to the ground, landing on his back, as his body spasmed.
Shock—baton—he thought, as the agony dulled.
The Gunner that had snuck up on him cursed at him as Owen struggled to his feet. A camo bandana covered their face underneath sunglasses. The shock baton the Gunner held crackled menacingly.
The Gunner swung again, but this time Owen was prepared. He stepped towards the Gunner while they were in mid-swing, caught their wrist, and slammed his elbow into the Gunner's face. His nose broke with a loud crack! Owen kicked the Gunner in the stomach, and he keeled over. Owen broke his neck with a snap!
It happened within a span of maybe two seconds. When it was over, Owen felt a mixture of horror and confusion as he stared at his hands.
How had he known how to do that?
Ka-bang!
Owen flew backwards, hitting the weapons workbench with a thud! White-hot pain tore through him, originating from his stomach. Somebody had shot him?
The somebody in question stepped forward in their suit of power armor, carrying a large laser rifle.
"Well," he said in that deep voice, "if you want something done right, you should do it yourself."
Owen tried to lift his hand to give the man a lewd gesture, but he found that he was too weak. The edges of his vision were tinged black.
The commander lifted his gun. Owen glared at him.
Ka-bang!
Darkness.
x x x
The images came in bizarre flashes.
A memory of his father on his deathbed, holding out the jacket with weak hands.
The sun setting over Finch Farm.
Owen standing in front of the mirror, wearing scavver's clothes, the jacket in his pack and the laser musket on his back.
A person crouching over him, shouting "This one's still alive!" to others.
Another woman approaching, red hair in a tight ponytail, green eyes flashing in concern, saying "Get him back to HQ." Did he know that voice?
Being laid on a stretcher and hauled into a strange machine that didn't make any sense. Blue lights flashed overhead.
A television screen with the words PLEASE STAND BY written in large letters.
"What the hell is he doing here?"
Brick ceiling. Musty odor.
Needle in his arm.
Nothing.
So I know this story has been published for a total of *checks watch* six hours, but I really would appreciate the reviews, guys and gals.