1. Battle for Nebraska

Date: July 12th, 1897, "The Battle for Nebraska"
Subject: Private Jacob Peterson

At first, Jacob Peterson's unit was tasked with neutralizing Native Americans. Being one of the tallest ones in his platoon at 6'2", he was tasked with doing surveillance. But when the day came for him to scout out the battlefield with his platoon in tow, he didn't spot Native Americans. He spotted these creatures with the upper body of a rather attractive adult woman, with the lower body of a snake. His platoon commander knew what they were. He heard him scream
"LAMIA'S!" and proceeded to order the regiment to ready their Springfield 1873 Trapdoor rifles. And he was lumped in. But he was lucky. He had a double-action swing out cylinder revolver with him as a sidearm, and had plenty of ammunition in shoulder pouches. But the Lamias seemed to keep coming. He jumped half-way down his watchtower post, rolling as he hit the ground. He gripped tighter onto his rifle, and sprinted to the rest of his regiment. He swore he saw that some of the Lamia's at bright pink valentine's day hearts for eyes, but most of them were clad in medieval-era armor with swords. The modern bullets they had penetrated the armor easily, and he saw row after row of Lamia warriors die to their hail of lead. He aimed at a Lamia warrior rushing at him with open arms, wanting to grapple him with an unknown goal. He fired, a bullet going straight through their head. They hell to the ground, limp; they were dead. He reloaded quickly, putting the hammer on half-cock and opening the trap door of his rifle. The spent bullet case ejected out, and he reloaded a fresh bullet into the chamber. He closed the trap-door, and put the hammer on full-cock, aiming for another Lamia warrior. Rinse-and-repeat, Jacob was massacring Lamia warriors left and right. To his shock, the Lamia warriors brought out their crossbowman (or is it crossbowwomen in this case?), and they opened fire on his platoon. Since his comrades weren't wearing metal plating, he saw some of them get an arrow to the stomach or knee. Luckily, the medics were quick to get them aid, and we even had ambulance wagons with sipping whisky.

After he put lead in a good 50 more Lamia warriors, they brought out their big guns; weapons that appeared to look like 15th century Harquebuses. Jacob felt an excruciating pain in his lower abdomen, and fell to the ground. He looked down, and saw a 4-inch wide hole, with a bloody mess of muscle, skin, and blood surrounding it. He just got shot. He hadn't been shot at all in his entire life, but then the adrenaline kicked in. He couldn't move his legs, but he didn't feel the pain anymore. He put lead on target with some Lamia warriors for a few more shots, before he ran out of ammunition for his rifle. He dropped his rifle, and whipped out his M1889 revolver. Time mentally slowed down for him, as he was near an inch of his life. He had the pleasure of aiming relatively easily at Lamia heads and popping them like watermelons with his revolver. The lower part of his navy-blue uniform was soaked red and purple with blood, as he fired mercilessly upon the Lamia horde. His short and shaggy bright brown hair frollocked in the wind, and his heavy features were gritty with the black stains of gunpowder and the red stains of blood. The innocence faded from this 25 year-old private's bright blue eyes, as he put lead on target more. His standard-issue khaki stetson hat lay next to him on the grass, stained a dark crimson red. The scene was brutal. Where the hell were all these Lamia coming from? He was running out of bullets, and quickly at that. He couldn't walk, so he couldn't use his rifle's bayonet as a last ditch effort. But what he did was valiantly do what he could. Many Lamia fell to his bullet onslaught, before he finally ran out of ammunition. His final shot went to the shoulder of the Lamia warrior. They screeched in pain, before looking at him with an amalgamation of an expression; anger and lust mixed into one. They slithered toward him, coiling his limp left leg.
"BACKUP! I-I NEED HELP!" Jacob screamed, as he was dragged closer and closer to the Lamia.

His entire body up the shoulder was coiled in the Lamia's strong, muscular tail, his arms glued to his sides. He got a better look at the Lamia, as their helmet was knocked off from his shoulder shot after they flinched and went back in pain earlier. The Lamia who was coiling him had bright red hair and eyes, with scales on their cheeks. Overall, if you asked any man to rate them on the out-of-10 scale, she would be a ten. Jacob's scream for help did not go unheard, though. As he was squeezed into a tight hug from the Lamia, his face going directly into her bosom, she was shot in the head by a marksman. He was let go, and fell to the ground. He still couldn't move, however, but to his relative luck, and ambulance wagon and 2 medics approached from behind. He was put on a stretcher, and was given a small 5-ounce flask of sipping whisky. His adrenaline wore off, but the whisky as he drank it numbed the pain. He was loaded into the back of the wagon, and the two medics got into the wagon room. He didn't even have time to react as he was asked questions by the medics.
"Injuries?" The first medic, a burly white man with a standard military uniform but with a white apron with a red cross on it's front, asked him.
"Augh...a bullet to the...ugh...stomach..." He answered them, taking another sip of his whisky. The medic got quick to work, taking a bloodied set of tweezers and digging them into his wound.
"DURGHAGH!" Jacob screamed in pain, as the musket ball was ripped out of his body. He was given an extra surgery, as he felt some things reconnecting in the wound as the medic did their work. He was then bandaged up, and brought out of the ambulance wagon. There was a railroad nearby, which was used to transport goods and troops. He was loaded onto the nearest car, and the train speeded away. He quickly fell asleep, as his body did the work to heal itself

25 minutes later...

Jacob woke up, with soldiers around him. He did the first thing his body thought of: moving his legs. He wiggled his toes, and finally bent his knees.
"I have never been so excited to move my lower body in my entire life..." He exclaimed, as he went to a sitting position, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.
"You got shot, too?" Another soldier, one Private Christopher Taylore, asked him. He looked to Christopher's eyes, done with all the shit he was just subjected to.
"Yeah..." He answered them, feeling the bloody area of his bandage. Christopher nodded, before looking to the left-side entrance and exit door of their train car.
"Chow shouldn't be comin' before too long. I heard they're making that new Brunswick stew with some beef and bread." He told Jacob, feeling his stomach.
"Nice...we get real food and not spoiled corn cobs?" He exclaimed to Christopher, feeling his head.
"You bet!" Christopher exclaimed, looking out the window behind him. There were still Lamia hordes charging on open fields, but instead of massacring them, the regiments of soldiers were retreating on horseback.
"I don't know how to break to ya' Jack, but...Nebraska is lost." Christopher told him with a grim tone, with a worried expression on his face.
"...excuse me?" Jacob blurted out, looking to Christopher in the eye.
"I don't know how else to put it. We'll be lucky if we can stop them by the next year." Christopher explained, placing his hand on his shoulder. Jacob stood up, and turned around, looking out the window behind him.
"We got company..." Christopher exclaimed, seeing a different horde of monster girls. It wasn't Lamias like last time, though. They were more swift and fast, and appeared to have green scythes for arms, with a small mantis cap fitting snugly on their head.
"What the fuck is that?" Christopher blurted out, standing up and looking out the window.

"Not nothin' good..." Jacob said, watching them target their train car. They were darting through the trees next to their train car, and jumped on top of it. They heard heavy metal thumps as they landed on top.
"We need our guns!" Christopher exclaimed, running to the right end of their train car.
"Chris, wait!" He yelled to Christopher, as he slammed open the train car door. He quickly ran after Christopher, being just behind him. Christopher stepped out of the train car, now on the small platform between their current one and the next train car in front of them, which happened to be the armory car of the train. One of the mantis girls snatched Christopher, trying to pull him up onto the roof. Jacob acted quickly, grabbing onto Christopher's ankle. He still had his bayonet, so he hatched a small idea in his head. He swiped the bayonet out of it's holster, and stabbed it into the mantises right scythe gripping Christopher. To his surprise, the bayonet penetrated the natural armor of the scythe like tissue paper. The mantis girl let out a cute, yet pain filled yelp and dropped Christopher. Jacob ran and slammed open the armory train car door, and practically threw Christopher in. A few soldiers got the memo, and sprinted into the train car, and Jacob was able to make it in by the skin of his teeth. A mantis girl lunged forward, and attempted to tackle him. They slammed into the hardened steel door, sliding down it like a cartoon. They were knocked out cold, and fell off the train, rolling in the grass. Jacob frantically locked the door, and shoved a spare piece of wood in between the handle.
"We're...safe...?" Another soldier asked.
"As safe as soldiers near guns and ammo can be." Vince declared, turning around. He looked at the armory rack near the end of the room, and saw Springfield Trapdoor Rifles, Carcano Bolt-Action Rifles, Colt M1889 Double-Action Revolvers, Double-Barrel Shotguns, and a new invention; a Winchester 1897 Pump-Action Shotgun.

"Boys...lock and load." Jacob commanded. They all nodded, and he followed the rest of the soldiers as they went to the back of the rack. Jacob snagged some spare slings and ammunition pouches, and grabbed a Colt M1889, a Carcano Bolt-Action Rifle, a Springfield Trapdoor Rifle, and a sawed-off Double-Barrel Shotgun. He grabbed a spare holster, and fit the sawed off shotgun into there. He fit the slings onto the rifles, and swung them over his back, tightening them. He put the ammunition necessary into his chest and side pouches. He was a walking armory. In fact, all of the soldiers around him were.
"Now men...are we going to let some goddamn lust-crazed rape machines destroy our country?!" Jacob called out.
"NO!" The soldiers in the train car yelled back to him.
"So WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!" He yelled out to them.
"FIGHT UNTIL THERE'S NO FIGHT LEFT!" The soldiers yelled out to him.
"NOW THAT IS WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR!" Jacob declared, turning around. As he turned around, the train began to slow down. he heard the scraping of the wheels against the tracks. The mantis girls had made it too the conductor car.
"We have to get this train moving again!" Christopher exclaimed, walking to the front, a Winchester 1897 Shotgun in hand.
"What are we going to...do...Jacob?" A young recruit asked him. He turned around, holding his Carcano Rifle. He placed his hand on the bolt.
"Kill all son's'a bitches." He cocked the bolt on his rifle, smiling.
"That's what we're going to do."

TO BE CONTINUED

Hey guys! Now I know it seems a bit idiotic that I'm starting another story in the midst of beginning a new one, but hear me out! I just remembered the game "Darkest of Days" that I played when I was around 6 years old, and I got inspiration to write this story! Remember to review and read when able!

- Lizdo Writing