Title: Trial By Fire
Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Disclaimer: Not mine - except the military guys. But I don't want 'em anyway. ;)
A/N: First and foremost, YES. I have updated and will finally be continuing this story. I know it's been a while ::coughunderstatementcough:: but thanks to all the encouragement I've been receiving from various sources, my increased drive to write, and the newly discovered joy of posting shorter chapters, my desire to complete this sorely neglected fic has become nothing short of overwhelming these past weeks.
So just to clarify, future installments for TBF will be MUCH shorter than previous ones (ie. Chapter One which spans 38 pages in Word) so I hope fans of my more epic endeavors won't be disappointed. The good thing about this 'new set-up' is that you'll probably be seeing more frequent updates - key word 'probably'. ;)
Today's bonus? Two chapters posted instead of one.
Shout outs to reviewers and those people who make me smile in general can be found down below.
Chapter Three
Lt. Mitch Parker lit up a cigarette, took a deep haul, and leaned back against the brick exterior of the guardhouse with something akin to numb relief. He scrubbed a hand across his face wearily, noting that his eyes felt gritty with fatigue, and that he was in dire need of a shave.
Just a few more hours... he promised himself silently, tapping ashes onto the ground, absently debating the merits of cutting his break short to give himself enough time to grab another coffee before returning to his post.
As if the thought of much-needed caffeine had been a summons, a hand magically appeared in front of his face, offering a Styrofoam cup brimming with the steaming, black liquid.
"Thanks, Johnson," Parker mumbled without looking up, easily identifying the tattooed forearm inches from his nose even in the near dark. He smiled slightly, the merest twist of his lips, wondering for the hundredth time why his friend had inked something so common as the heart-wreathed 'Mother' into his flesh more than a decade ago. To hear Johnson tell it, he couldn't even stand the woman.
"Thought you could use it," Johnson replied gruffly, pulling out and lighting his own cigarette when Parker finally took the cup.
They stood in companionable silence for the better part of a minute, each one lost in thought, exhaling smoke and gulping hot coffee, until they turned to look at one another almost at the same time, the uneasy light in one set of eyes exactly mirrored by other's.
"What the hell are they thinking, keeping this place open after what happened?" Parker finally muttered darkly, dropping the stub of cigarette that remained, grinding it into the asphalt with the heel of his boot. "Almost an entire company wiped out, fourteen white-coats," he continued, shaking his head in disgust. "Not to mention Major Donnelly."
"Yeah," Johnson said, huffing heavily. "Me and Simms were still trying to get the old bastard's blood off the floor this morning, 'til we decided that it was a waste of time." He shook his head, then barked a short laugh, revealing wrinkled fingertips. "So much for that industrial strength cleaning shit, huh?"
Parker nodded, trying to banish the images his friend's words had brought to the forefront of his mind, images that he knew would stay with him until the day he died.
Hallways full of corpses, ripped up, slashed, and gutted. Lab technicians missing limbs, soldiers laying in pools of congealed blood that fairly glued them to the ground, and the Major, found without his throat and most of his face. Even now, days after making the grisly discovery, Parker felt bile rising in his stomach, stinging his esophagus as he tried to swallow it back down.
"And can you believe that chicken shit, Lynch? Saying that one guy did all that - one guy, with fucking knives sticking out of hands!" Johnson scoffed, ducking into the guardhouse to dispose of his empty cup. "Martinez told me he found that rookie coward passed out in his own piss, so I don't see how he'd know anything. If you ask me," he continued in a low voice, "we were hit by some terrorist organization, or the goddamned Commies!"
Parker almost smiled at his friend's conspiracy-theory-like diatribe, but didn't. Instead, he gave Johnson a rueful look and shook his head. "Lynch might not be the most reliable source, but the surveillance tapes don't lie," he murmured, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Johnson blinked, and then his eyes went wide. "You telling me that a single guy sliced and diced his way through the whole place?" he demanded, sounding outraged.
"Not just a guy," Parker grated, feeling his nausea recede as instant anger took over. "A mutant."
Johnson opened his mouth, about to unleash a stream of expletives at the revelation, or so Parker surmised, but before the other man could vent his well-known opinion of 'those fucking muties', a flickering light in the distance made him pause, ultimately drawing both of their gazes.
"And what do you suppose that is?" Johnson queried, scratching his crew-cut head as he continued to watch the light as it neared. "A plane?"
"Can't be," Parker said quietly, squinting into the night. "We're sitting in the middle of a no-fly zone. Airspace is restricted for miles."
"Lightning maybe?"
"It's a clear sky."
"Falling star?"
"Unless they've started falling horizontally, I'd say that's another negative."
"Well, what else could it be?" Johnson groused in exasperation.
The light had grown in the few seconds the two men had used trying to identify it, becoming larger, brighter, its approaching speed eating up the miles between it and the base. As it closed in on them, the glowing thing started to come into focus, its radiance coalescing into an actual shape, finally registering as something that was simply beyond impossible.
Parker felt adrenaline flush through his system before he even realized what he was looking at, prompting him into panicked action. Darting into the guardhouse, he slammed his hand on the communication console, ignoring Johnson's frenzied babbling behind him.
"This is Lieutenant Parker, we have an emergency!" he shouted into the small mike, his other hand reaching blindly for the Beretta 9 mm holstered at his hip.
A sizzle of static, a series of clicks, and then...nothing. The line between the guardhouse and Central was dead.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Johnson was roaring from outside, his fumbling fingers grappling with the sub-machine gun slung across his back. He looked to Parker with wild eyes, then back to the ball of fire now hovering directly overhead. "What is that?" he finally rasped, voice full of fear.
Parker could hear shouts coming from the base behind him as legions of soldiers spilled out of the building, their sharp cries and the odd staccato burst of guns being fired without restraint telling him that most of those men already knew the answer to Johnson's question.
We're dead men... Parker's inner voice whispered softly, sounding, he thought, strangely unconcerned about impending death, though the trembling that had since invaded his entire being gave lie to the notion.
Cocking his pistol despite the futility of the gesture, Parker went to stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend, and did the only thing he could do.
Prepared for the inevitable.
Yrch Monger - Your reviews never fail to encourage. I am so very grateful for the continued interest you show in all my fics. Thanks for sticking around through all the procrastination and for appreciating whatever I put forth. I live for your approval. ;)
Foenixfyre - Well grrl, it seems you've finally got the update you've been wanting! I hope it doesn't disappoint! You've been a great cheerleader, both here and within the group - big thanks for the support.
Talon-Draven - Talon, Talon, Talon. One of my biggest inspirations and the grrl who finally pushed me into finishing what I started oh so long ago (or did I take that 'get her butt into gear' comment the wrong way? ::winks::) Thank you so much for feeding both my ego and the flames of my creativity. TYL and especially WDW did more than just entertain me, they inspired. So again, thanks for that - and I hope to see more of your spectacular work soon. :)
Lucid Dreamer - Don't know if you'll be popping by anytime soon, but thought I should include you regardless. How could I not, big fan-o-mine? Your constant praise for all my work (even the non-Jeantro stuff) is so incredibly valued, that I don't even know how to thank you properly. Will big hugs and another chapter of 'The Challenge' suffice for now? ;D
To everyone else who reviewed or read - THANK YOU! And most importantly, please continue to enjoy!
Much love to all,
fury