There are some chances you have to take, no matter the risk. Because these chances only come once. And sometimes, missing it could mean the difference between the death of one, and the death of many.
Pennsylvanian Country, 04:15 16th March 2037, Jason's POV
A familiar voice roused me awake in what seemed to be the middle of the night. Once I opened my eyes and the images of the reality around me came into focus, I found Wyatt standing at my door. He had a black jacket over one shoulder, and his skull cap over his head. He had a grey shirt and khaki trousers with black hiking boots. In his right hand, he held his pistol. Halfway up his left arm was the bandage covering the wound. There was no dry blood seeping through, so it must have been fresh. It didn't seem to me like it hurt him to move his arm. At least, it didn't look like it at all. I knew how good he was at hiding his pain, his fear, and his sadness.
"You won't believe what we found in that box" he began blissfully. The scariest thing about this guy was that he seemed to always be cheerful, or calm in all situations. At least, all I had seen.
"Someone's old lunch?" I remarked, hoping to be funny. Now, if it were Jill, she would have just rolled her eyes, or possibly glared. But Wyatt was something else. He instead chuckled at my joke, no matter how bad it was.
"Very funny, but no. What you acquired was information on a supply route that runs through GKR territory with a high concentration of military force. A manifest, and it's got times for supply runs, and guess where it leads?" I did have one guess, but I chose not to answer. "Chester." Just as I had suspected. And that also gave me an idea of what we were about to do.
"Are we hitting that road?" Wyatt nodded. He began to turn away, but stopped midway to glance at me, and opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm letting you come along because we have intelligence on the possibility that the supplies they are bringing are drones. And from what Lydia explained about the situation at the old base with the Stalkers, you do well against them. So here's the deal: you can deal with the drones, and we'll deal with the rest. That sound good?" I nodded. It was a good thing to know that he cared for the members, and assigned them to what they were comfortable with. He knew that I couldn't handle killing a person, so he left the robots with me. He waved me to follow and left into the lit up hallway.
I lifted myself from the bed and grabbed my dark jacket from the chair. On the way out, I began draping it over my arms and back, then went on to zipping up the front. On the way down the stairs, I saw Milo resting against a pillar on the porch. It looked like his leg was doing fine. I sent a smile at him on passing by with a small wave.
"Do good out there, mal'chik. And don't even think about coming back injured." I rolled my eyes jokingly.
"I'll make sure not to, Ruski. You get better, alright?" He waved dismissively, moving his eyes down to his leg.
Swiftly, I moved across the yard to where Wyatt and Lydia stood waiting, with two others. They waited by the barn. Lydia sat on a crate, examining her M14 rifle. Her attire consisted of jet black jeans and a black shirt with camo overalls and black hiking boots, with a khaki cap.. Wyatt was talking to one of the others, and the other was having a smoke. He stopped when he saw me from the corner of his eye, and finished up with his discussion.
"Jason. I'd like you to meet Ron and Artie. Code names are Hammer and Axe."
Ron was the one talking to Wyatt. He had blonde hair with his fringe poking out from under a black bandanna, with blue eyes and a small amount of hair on his chin. He had a brown shirt with khaki overalls and brown sneakers.
Artie was the one taking a cigarette. He had brown hair with a mullet, and his fringe split at the front. His eyes were a hazel underneath bushy brows. He had a full black outfit with a grey striped scarf with black stripes around his neck.
"They're going to be supporting us in this mission." They all started towards the side door of the barn, where the van waited inside. The back doors were already open, with a few weapons on the floor of the inside of the van. Wyatt took an M4 rifle with a red dot sight and gave me an M9 pistol. Ron took an M1014 shotgun, and Artie took a different M4, this time with ACOG and an under-barrel shotgun. With the pile were several magazines and a couple of small cylindrical objects called pipe bombs with fuses about half a ruler length. I was about to jump in when I was grabbed by the shoulder and whirled around.
"Remember what I told you. Aim for the eye" Lydia reminded. I nodded, remembering perfectly where to hit a Stalker. Right in the eye, where all their core circuitry was. She pushed past me and hopped in, and I followed. Wyatt was the last to go in and closed the back double steel doors behind him. Ahead of the van, the large barn doors opened. And once they were fully agape, we lurched forward out into the cleared yard, then headed out under the arch beside the boundary fences, leaving the farm behind.
We traveled off road, following the dirt road through the country to our destination, but from a distance. For a while, we saw nothing but the stretching empty fields and the dirt road close by. The sun had risen as we drove, so I could see it wasn't as early as I had expected. I had my pistol holstered in my belt. My legs were shaking out of nervousness, unlike the others. Artie and Ron were in the front of the van, Wyatt was between the door and me and Lydia across from us, next to the side sliding door.
"Hey kid? You feeling okay?" I nodded. obviously lying. And she could tell, but with her usual self, she didn't push on with it. Wyatt, on the other hand, did.
"You'll do fine. Trust me." I looked at him to see hope in his eyes. I saw why he was seen as the leader of this band of freedom fighters. He was an uplifting sort, never looking on the negative side of things. And no matter how hilarious you'd think he was, he always managed to keep some seriousness to it. And even though he would rather I didn't, I saw him as a leader.
I had to raise my hands against the wall inside between the driver seat and the part we were in to stop myself from hitting it as the van came to a sudden halt, swerving to the side a bit. The others seemed unmovable, not even flinching at the sudden stop.
"Everyone pile out!" someone in the front shouted. Wyatt pushed the double doors open, holding his pistol up with the other hand. Everyone but me and one of the front men emptied out of the van, sweeping the area for hostiles.
"It's all clear. Get everything ready" he ordered. His voice held no emotion, yet held authority. Ron and Lydia grabbed the items I passed to them from the back of the van, such as spare ammunition, a medical kit, a bag of pipe bombs and M40 sniper rifle for Lydia. She put the strap over her left shoulder and packed a couple of spare magazines into one of the pockets on her belt. After everything was out, I myself climbed out and closed the doors behind me. Artie was to stay behind with the van, so he stayed in the front seat. Ron took the lead, holding his shotgun up to his shoulder with his eye lined down the sights. Wyatt stayed on his back, I took his and Lydia had all of ours, walking backwards with her own rifle raised. Wyatt had his held against his chest at an angle, but at any sign of danger he would raise it. I had my own weapon at my side. Truthfully, I was pretty scared. Not only would there be Stalkers, but also some KPA soldiers and whatever else the KPA had with the convoy. Though nothing could top how I had felt back at Chester, when I finally left. Ahead of us I could see the asphalt road where the target would be going along. Lydia stopped and set up on a small mound, and the rest of us moved forward. We took our positions behind a rock, kneeling by it. I kneeled in the middle, with my back to the road.
"Now what?" I queried curiously. Wyatt seemed focused on something, so Ron answered for him without turning around to me.
"We wait. On the manifest, it said they'll be here in half an hour or so." I sighed impatiently. I may be a patient person, but sitting here in the dirt for that long in the dirt, I knew my ass would be numb. But as it turned out, we didn't have to wait long for something to come. Cause something did.
"There's movement on the road" came Lydia's voice on the walkie-talkie.
"I copy" Wyatt radioed back, then shouldered his weapon over the rock. Ron did the same, and I sat back, my weapon raised aiming upwards above my shoulder. Just waiting for the shooting to come. Yet it never came.
"Hold fire! We got unarmed heading this way!" I peeked around to where everyone else was looking to see two figures in the distance. One was about my height, and the other slightly taller, with a misshapen bulge going along their chest. Wyatt was first to leave the safety of the rock, laying his rifle against the side of it and began walking over to the silhouettes. Whatever he could see that made them harmless, I couldn't. All I saw were two shadows. "Ron. Scan the road for contacts." The rebel turned away form us and down the road, kneeling on the dirt with his weapon raised and slowly turning from side to side. Not wanting to wait around, I followed Wyatt halfway, only to stop when I saw the figures in the light. The one on the left was a young male teen, wearing a torn shirt and pants, his face covered with dirt. The other did not in fact have a bulge, but was carrying a young boy, at least seven or something around there. The one carrying the child was an old woman, and just like the older boy, her clothes were torn as well. Wyatt and I rushed over before the woman began to collapse. I grabbed her while Wyatt took the child. And seeing her face brought a whole wave of shock to me. Her eyes creaked open, looking like they had almost sunken into the back of her head, and she had confusion lining her face.
"J-Jason?" I nodded, holding her head up so she could see me clearly. Her voice was hoarse, her breath quick. "W-what are you d-doing here...What am I d-doing here? W-where am I?" She looked around in confusion. I held my other hand up, holding one of her hands and found it to be cracked along her knuckles. There were grazes lining her arms and knees, like she'd been crawling through a tunnel of gravel. Glancing back at her face, I could see the effects of dehydration taking hold. Her lips were cracked, bleeding as well.
"She's delirious" Wyatt assessed. "The boy's unconscious. Check the other boy." I nodded and laid the woman down gently to look over the teen, who was laying on the ground himself, eyes closed. Just like the woman, his lips were cracked, and his skin pale. I hadn't seen him before, but when I opened his eyes, I knew I had seen them before. That proved my suspicions correct. The old woman was a widower, with her two grandchildren. I knew because I had watched her husband's brains get blown out on the execution stage towards the start of this month. She was the farmer's wife.
"We need to get her out of here" I said. Wyatt nodded and took the woman by both arms, lifting her carefully by placing his arms under her upper back and knees. I picked the teen boy up and held him against my shoulder, since he was starting to wake. He trudged on, leaning against me. Ron, who had run over, took the youngest of the three, carrying him close to his chest. When we made our way past Lydia, she was already packing up her rifle.
"What about the convoy?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone to her voice. I couldn't believe her then. She was more worried about the mission then these people. But as it turned out, she was just curious.
"They need medical aid" Wyatt replied, passing her by. She stuck with that answer and followed behind, keeping an eye and barrel towards the road. We piled into the van after placing the three civilians carefully on the floor of the vehicle. Everyone else but Wyatt sat in their seats, and the van took off, taking it nice and slow. Wyatt looked over the civilians, starting with the youngest and moving onto the oldest. As he did, he summarized their conditions.
"Several lacerations along the arms...Cracks along lips and knuckles...Grazing along arms...Sunken eyes...Case of delirium...unconsciousness to the children; Cause is dehydration. We need to get to base fast."
"I'm going as fast as I can!" Artie called back. All I could think of doing was stare down at them, full of regret. Whatever had happened was somehow linked to my escape, I was sure of it. And that's all I did on the way back to camp.
I rushed into the house of the farm to find the best person of medical training we had. The van waited just outside with the sliding door wide open. After searching the first floor, I moved to the second and found her in Wyatt's room. She was looking over maps before she craned her head towards me, confused at my panicked state.
"We've got civilians in need of medical care." She sighed and pushed her chair back.
"What did Wyatt do this time?" she murmured to herself. "Lead the way." On the way out, she picked up a bag of medical supplies that she always had handy. I led her out of the house, and she went the rest of the way while I stopped on the porch where Milo watched from in his wheelchair. He looked on in a concerned interest, with two fingers resting underneath his chin and occasionally rubbing it. I sat down on a chair next to him on a wooden chair, rocking it forward as I pulled a hand downwards along my face.
"Something wrong, boy?" I didn't answer. I was too deep in thought, filled with regret. There was no way that none of this was my fault. If I had stayed...Shaking it off, I looked up with hazy eyes.
"This is my fault. They suffered because I left. I just know it" I stammered. It may have seemed to him that I was trying to convince him. But in fact, I was actually trying to convince myself.
"There is nothing to take blame for. What happened was not your doing, but could be whoever leads garrison" he explained with his thick Russian accent. Part of me agreed, but the other side of my mind still stayed with my original thoughts.
"It is. They are being punished for something I did." My eyes moved to the wooden planks that made up the floor of the porch. "I did this. And now, people are probably dying." There was a muscular grasp on my shoulder, being Milo's hand.
"We all hold regret for something. Whether we did it, or we did not do it." That made me feel a little better, but it did not rid me of the guilt.
I lifted my gaze as multiple people went by, carrying the civilians inside. I followed closely, desperately trying to look over their shoulders. The two boys were taken upstairs, while the widowing wife went to the lounge room with Wyatt and Jill. I followed her and sat some distance away from the others. She stirred awake, and began looking at her surroundings.
"W..where am I?" she asked, confused.
"You are in a resistance camp. We found you barely alive, and brought you back here. You and your children are safe, I swear." A wave of relief washed away the anxious expression on the old woman's face. "Now then, can you tell us what happened at Chester? How did you escape? Are there any others?" I was about to argue, thinking Wyatt was overwhelming her with questions. But he in fact was not, as she answered all the questions with a long explanation.
"Well, it began some time ago. After someone escaped past the wall, the garrison became stricter. People began to rebel. Not too soon after came the...the drones. Those mechanical beasts. They began picking us off one by one on the streets, taking those they took somewhere. We never saw where." She paused, sadness becoming visible on her face. "I took my grandchildren and, along with several others, made our way to find an exit. We found a sewer that was unguarded, and escaped. But...only we made it. Everyone else died before reaching the sewer entrance." Jill stopped the old widower right there.
"Wait. This sewer you escaped through, is it still unguarded?"
"I don't know! Do you really think I would have looked back as everyone else died?!" She went into a coughing fit, going red-faced. I hurried over and tried my best to stop it, and was successful. She narrowed her eyes at Jill, but I noticed the tinge of sorrow in them. Whoever she had lost must have been close to her.
"Jill. Can you please leave for a moment?" Wyatt requested respectfully, giving her a calm, yet stern look. And that was enough. She stood from her own seat and left, going up the stairs to help care for the young boys. "Now, please continue. This information is vital." The woman sighed, her head hanging low. I kneeled next to her and held her hand, and when she finally noticed my presence, she smiled. There was no hate in her eyes, only kindness.
"There's a group of people who have been disrupting the garrison inside the walls. They have been trying to get help, but have never gotten anywhere close to their goal." Wyatt patted her hand gently in a gesture of gratitude.
"Thank you. Now rest." She nodded and her head fell against the side of the soft velvet chair, her eyes closing until she went into a deep sleep. Wyatt stood, his expression changing back to serious. He went up the stairs, but I stayed by the woman's side. Even still, my regretful thoughts were not put to rest. And now I had to wonder who out of all the people in Chester would be part of the rebelling movement. No doubt the friend I left behind is one of them. Heck, he was probably leading them.
I sat across from the widower for..well, I had forgotten how much time had passed. But when I looked at the glass window behind me, I saw it was around midday. Most of everyone who wasn't in the house was hard at work, either working in the barn or training or just moving boxes around. No idea why we were still moving them around. When I last checked, we didn't have too many. And yet still I was seeing new ones coming and going. Frankly, it was boring. But I couldn't just leave the poor woman. Even after whatever time had passed, she was still in a bad state.
I was alerted to the sound of someone coming by drawing my attention to Wyatt. I stood up, and he turned to me attentively with an unsure look. Obviously, he had news he didn't want to share. And being me, I had to know. Especially if it involved my home town.
"Are we going to be doing anything, or are we just going to wait it out, wait for them to leave after everyone is dead?" I asked, knowing what he would say. Knowing him, even though it's been a short time since I'd first met him, he would probably wait for the US army to come. How wrong I was.
"No. We aren't leaving the people of Chester to die. We're moving in by the way they got out" gesturing to the old woman sleeping on the couch. That earned a glad smile from me. But as I stood to follow, my mood changed. "But you aren't coming. It's much to dangerous for someone like you." I stood there with mouth agape. How could he do that? Prevent me from returning to my own home? It just wasn't right, and I was not going to have anything of it.
"Y-you can't!" I stammered, but he raised a hand against me.
"No. You may have some training, but you are definitely not prepared to face an army. We are." I narrowed my eyes, and tried to push past him outside. But he blocked the way, forcing me back towards the chair and seated me.
"Let me go!"
"No!" I froze at his stern, harsh tone. "Listen to me!" He sighed, calmed himself down, then continued with a more quiet voice. "It is dangerous for someone with the amount of training you have had...I'm not even sure we will survive" he finished. His last words were filled with fear, and that was enough to convince me. Slightly.
"I want to go. I don't care if I don't fight. Just as long as I can come." He remained hesitant, scratching at the neatly shaven stubble on his chin. The short silence was broken by his response.
"Fine." His tone made it seem like he wasn't too happy about it, but he wasn't done yet. "But you will be staying outside of the wall, with Milo and Lydia, and guard the entrance there." I nodded, grateful I was making some kind of contribution. "Good. Then let's get going." Finally letting me stand, we both went outside where everyone was standing by in a line.
"I still say we should wait for the army to arrive and help." Wyatt rolled his eyes at Jill.
"There is no time to wait." She shrugged and stood at Wyatt's side, looking over the line. I joined the line, standing next to Ron. "I'm sure you have all heard about the survivors we brought back. As it turns out, they escaped from the town of Chester." There was distinct, unsure murmuring from the line. "So some of you are probably wondering what we do next. And some of you have possibly guessed correct. So to put your suspicions to rest, I shall answer: we are going to liberate Chester." The murmurs became an uproar of disagreement.
"Shut up! Everyone, just shut up!" Everyone jumped at Jill's loud and harsh roar. Even Wyatt looked scared.
"T-thank you Jillian. Now, back to the matter at hand, I will need to assemble a team to come with me. A quarter of us will stay back here, including Jill, and the rest will head to the city with the rest of us. One of the civilians we rescued has volunteered to lead us to the sewer entrance. We are to protect him at all costs. Understood?" Everyone nodded affirmatively, then headed towards the barn.
We all moved to a line of four white plastic tables. On each table was a set of weapons and equipment that was to be used. It ranged from grenades and other small equipment to pistols and small-machine guns to rifles and shotguns.
I took an M9 and a Diablo SMG, with a red-dot sight and extended stock. Lydia held what she had taken before when we hit the road, as did Wyatt, Ron and Artie. We piled into the van and the Wrangler. With weapons and equipment ready, and inside our vehicles, we launched our way out of the farm. Wyatt had me sit in the front passenger seat of the Jeep, with our car at the front. We passed around small talk here and there, though we stopped when Wyatt gave us the signal to.
"Jason. You want to know why I didn't want you to come? Then look" he pointed in the distance with a steel gaze. I followed his index finger to find something that struck fear in my heart.
"Is that-"
"No. Not the whole of it. Just what's outside the wall. The reason you never saw it before is because we took you out from a different point in the wall." I had no reply, for I could not speak. All I could do was stare at the ruined buildings. Once, they had been a part of the town of Chester. And now, they were nothing more than a crumbling suburb. And that was our destination.
We stopped just outside and exited the vehicles, scanning the outlying buildings from the outside. These were smaller than the ones further in, and had less walls, but anything could still be hiding in them.
"Jason, stay here with Lydia and Milo. The rest of you are with us. Let's move." Wyatt and the rest moved forward, leaving us behind. I pulled my self onto the back of the Wrangler, watching them disappear into the rubble of the outer suburb.
"Don't worry, dear boy. They be safe. Wyatt has not led us astray yet, no?" I looked down at the Russian in his wheelchair. Lydia stood by his side, keeping watch. "Though I do miss being by his side, with double-barrel in hand." I nodded in agreement, hating the fact that we were just staying here, waiting for something to happen. All we could do was pray for their safety. And the safety of the inhabitants of Chester.
Outskirts Of Chester Wall, 16th March 2037, Wyatt's POV
There we were. Thirteen of us, moving through the 'Ghost Area', as some called it. And it was aptly named, for it was now an empty shell of a part of Chester. Smoke no longer puffed up into the light sky from the chimneys, cars no longer went through the streets, no one chatted or entertained themselves in their homes. No, not in this forsaken place. Now only a dark sky shadowed it from above, with large airships drifting through it. And in the abandoned streets lingered patrols and monstrous machines of terror. Stalkers. Machines from one's nightmares, capable of tearing a man clean in half with it's claws, and wrapping it's paralyzed victims with it's coils after using it's tasers. And the worst part was the numbers they came in, swarming entire defense lines and forward camps.
Ahead of the group was I and Ron, with the oldest of the children we had found. He volunteered himself to lead us to the sewer entrance, where we would find our way under the wall and into the city. That was the first part of our master plan. I could hear the gunfire from inside the walls, the explosions that rocked the town inside. We had to save them. This was our only chance to do so.
"I don't like this place" complained Ron. "It gives me the willies!" I hushed him, and he quieted down, keeping his rifle shouldered. I kept my own M16 at the ready, my pistol holstered at my side. The rifle was light in my hands, as I had used them many times before. But it had not been the same case when I first used one. No, those times were much different. For the newer ones, not so much. That's why we left them behind, and kept those with more experience for the mission at hand. Our own mission. One of the reasons I could not wait was due to the fact that the US government, or what was left of it, would never sanction such an act.
"We're almost there" the young teen spoke with a quiet voice. This boy was already turning out like Jason, except seemed, dare I say it, even more braver than their first meeting with their newest recruit. He kept himself low, with his knees and back bent slightly, ready to run for cover if need be.
I stopped at the sound of some kind of groan, quickly going into a kneel and holding a fist high into the air. Everyone froze and kneeled, aiming around. As the sounds came closer, I signaled for everyone to move into the building on our right. We moved into it, taking cover at the overturned scorched tables and walls with large holes, staying in the darkness. Ron kept the boy with him, staying at the other end of the dark room. The groaning became more an more, becoming more metallic. And at that moment, I knew what was coming. My grip tightened, my pulse quickening as the Stalkers drew near. Peeking out, I saw that these ones were smaller than how Lydia had described them. The reason for this was because these were the Urban design. Being smaller allowed them to fit in smaller gaps, as well as making them faster and harder to hit. But it also made them weaker, and less stronger. Weak point was the same: hit the eye. That's where all the core circuitry was. I withdrew my gaze from them, but I feared it was too late. There was some mechanical whirring, then a hollow howl. My fingers itched on the trigger, ready to move and strike at them. They came closer and closer...then stopped. There was an echoing clang as someone from inside threw a rock in the distance. The Stalkers paused, then sprinted in that direction. They were gone..for now. I sighed with relief and scanned the room.
"Let's move" I whispered to whoever was near. The order passed around, and we moved further into the forbidden zone.
Further on, we finally arrived at the sewer entrance. And luckily, no guards.
"This is good." I turned around to Ron and Artie, then gave them my order. "Take the boy back. He's got us where we need to be." They nodded and began to lead him away as the rest of us entered the sewer, not knowing what awaited us.
