Chapter 4
Somehow, whether from intercepted transmission or instinct, the Locust knew that soon over half of their prey would be evacuated. They would be coming with everything they had, day or night, rain or shine. The Stranded knew this, and every able bodied man with a rifle was positioned on the walls, waiting for the first Emergence hole to pop out of the ground. Gospel took up residence at the left side of the west wall, Lopez was on the east, Downey on the south, and Arnold at the north. Occasionally one of the Stranded asked Gospel a question. When he didn't answer, they either returned to gazing through the sights or muttered a curse, usually him a fascist, egotistical pig.
When the ground exploded five meters forward, the west wall didn't open fire, because Gospel had lifted his hand. They wouldn't admit it, but having veteran Gears helped with morale. They listened to Gospel, even though their fingers itches as the frothing horde came charging forward. They weren't soldiers, so at any distance, their aim would be pathetic, to say the least. Each armed with a Hammerburst or Lancer that could punch holes through chest and pop heads off shoulders, they could only slaughter the wave at a proper range. He waited until they were just a meter away to drop his hand and let them open fire.
At such a close range, it was impossible to miss. Even when some of the Stranded lost their balls and hid behind cover, pointing their weapons over the edge and spraying wildly, Locust fell by the droves. Body after body crumbled, empty shells crunched under Gospel's boots as he shifted from foot to foot. Only minutes passed before there were so many corpses at the walls that the Locust could climb over and attack the bridge, frothing hungrily. Gospel revved his Lancer, the sharp teeth cutting into the nearest Locust, tearing it from left shoulder to hip. A bullet caught him in the chest. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward, slicing his saw through the next Locust and the next, blood slicking his Lancer's grip. The Stranded had retreated off the walls, and as ordered, they had dropped their Ink grenades. The only thing was they hadn't done is wait until Gospel was off the wall as well. The air grew foul and thick. The sounds of clawing and howls of the Locust was overwhelming. He smacked a Frag onto the closet Locust's belly before leaping down to the ground and scurrying to the cover, turning every few steps to be sure that no Locust had emerged from the inky cloud.
The entire siege had lasted all of five minutes. Vicious, scrapping Locust cutting down the Stranded even as their own numbers thinned. But there were so many Locust. The Stranded had done what they could, they had followed orders, and because of that, not all of them were dead. But many, many Stranded had fallen in that altercation. The good news was that now there were few enough people that everyone could evacuate.
"Command, we need those Ravens," Lopez shouted.
"Ravens are en route, they should arrive within five minutes."
Downey sighed, then shouted, "Get all the wounded to the center, they go in the birds first. The Locust?"
"Looks like we scared them off," Arnold said.
"Locust don't get scared. Keep up the patrols. We have to hold out for five minutes."
The bullet in Gospel's gut grinded against bone with each breath, but it was a nuisance, not a threat, and it would be ridiculous to strip out of his armor to suture the wound, especially as a furious gust wiped up and the four King Ravens descended from of the sky like angelic valkyries plucking warrior soldiers from the ruins. Massive armor transports, but one well placed explosive and it would crumble into a flaming pile of wreckage.
"Everyone on," Downey shouted.
Where were the Locust? None of this made any sense. One attack? One five minute assault and the Drones would just tuck tail? Gospel actually wished he had a rifle so he could see into the distant sniper spots.
"Get in!"
Gospel backed away towards the hum of the Raven, aim sweeping from side to side. He felt something take him by the collar and hoist him into the cab, and he sat in the doorway, still looking for the attack. Only when they lifted off the ground, rising higher and higher to clear the buildings, did he understand why no Drones had come. Everyone else realized too.
"Brumak!" Downey shouted. His voice wasn't even in the radio, he just screamed so loud Gospel heard it over the spinning rotor blades and the hail of fire from the turret on the giant's back. Gospel heard the explosion to, as Downey's Raven detonated.
"Evasive maneuvers. All units, evasive maneuvers."
The mini gun had been removed to compensate more people, so at the moment, all Gospel had was the Lancer, Boltok pistol, and a few grenades strapped to his belt. And the Brumak was pissed, guns blazing and spinning furiously, trying to get the King Ravens that were spinning and struggling to get out of the line of fire, dodging between buildings to reach the open area of the surrounding forest, where they could make a beeline to safety. The Brumak charged through the streets. Gospel hung out the sides, firing clip after clip, but no bullets penetrated the giant's thick skin, and the riders were safely at the back.
The second King Raven was hit in the tail, and spun helpless before landing in the density of the forest, and though the other two had gotten out of range, the Brumak shuffled and charged along. At this rate, there would be no survivors. The Brumak wouldn't stop and the Raven's couldn't flee fast enough.
Gospel pulled on a parachute, pulled off his dog tags and handed them to one of a Stranded, an elderly man. If not for the raid, if his friends didn't fall, he wouldn't have been permitted to ride the great bird to freedom. The man took the dog tags, not really understanding what was happening. Even when Gospel leapt out of the Raven, he just stared dumbly.
The private didn't really think how stupid an idea this was until the air batted at his face, and he watched as the Brumak charged, and was fairly certain that he was going to die. But to do nothing meant he was going to die, and there was a chance that at least the last two birds would make it to safety. He actually thought of the woman, Jinx, and wondered if she was on the other bird. She wasn't on his, but there was the other one that was still speeding away. And the world needed people like her more than people like him.
He watched the Brumak approach, and he yanked the pull string. The drag yanked him so hard, it felt like his stomach was going to come out of his throat. And he was still falling fast, the Brumak charging, approaching where he'd be landing, and he actually thought that this may work.
Technically he landed on the Brumak's head, but the speed at which the monster was running meant he very quickly tumbled off the perch. He extended a hand and caught the bumpy skin, while his parachute trailed down over the Brumak's face. The Brumak roared, blinded now, and thrashed madly. A single shot from his pistol blew off one of the Drone's head. Three shots killed the other. A chainsaw to the back of the neck opened a large enough gash that Gospel could stuff two grenades beneath the skin before leaping off the Brumak and to the ground.
Everything hurt. That bullet wound in his gut ached. He had to crawl to cover, afraid that the Brumak would fall back and end up squishing him, but it fell forward, its massive frame shaking the ground. The vibrations so intense Gospel fell flat on his stomach.
"Gospel! Gospel answer me." He had never heard Lopez sound worried, lest of all, about him. Lopez was that kind of soldier. Always business, save when he was pissed, then he was all fire and brimstone. But he was never worried, not in the heat of battle, not when they were being overwhelmed.
He barely had the strength to lift his fingers to his ear and let out a deep breath.
"Gospel, you are one fucking crazy little fucktard. By fuck, what the fuck is the matter with you? You just killed a fucking Brumak with a fucking parachute. I've never seen anyone do that without a fucking tank."
He sighed again, putting his head back down, resting it on the cool earth. He really wanted to sleep more than anything. He didn't even care if an emergence hole popped up right next to him. If a Berserker came out with certain burnings that only a man could satisfy. He was so tired and his insides were burning, and he just wanted to sleep.
"Gospel, we can't turn the birds around. God knows how many more Locust are in the area. We have to get the civies who are left out of the hot zone. Dig in, I'll be back as soon as I can be. The second bird that was shot down, only the tail was hit. That was Arnold's. Check for survivors."
"Uhhh."
"If there is anyone that can do it, it's you. Be careful. And good luck."
It was still a long while before Gospel stood up, holding his belly. He looked around, and seeing no signs of Locust coming, took the time to struggled out of his chest plate. Before anything, he needed to suture the wound.
The needle stung as he pushed it through the skin, and burned as he pulled the string tight. In and out, in and out. No sedative, nothing sterilized. Even when he was done, the wound ached worse than it had before the surgery.
There was a GPS in every Gear's suit, it allowed squad mates and Control to keep an eye on everyone. He checked his GPS, and learned that at the very least Arnold's body was to the east. The trees were too high for him to see the smoke from the wreckage climbing towards the sky, but he was sure the Locust could see it, and there was a good chance they would get there first.
