Warior: Unfortunately, yes…poor guys. I hope you're enjoying so far and that this has you enthralled enough to keep reading. Thanks for all your reviews and support.

Zichalo: Uh…thanks? Your last review was chapter five…there are now eleven chapters. Just thought I'd give you the head's up.

Lecter42: The barrel got sliced in half, not the weapon; it was still operable.

Firebendingguy: Thanks…but where'd you get Big Red One from? He's not part of the Army's First Infantry Division.

NoneAvalible: Thank you for all of your reviews. As for the Elite, well…you'll see why he wasn't being hostile.

The Marines of Charlie Company

Chapter Eleven

The Flood

David was sweating as he and his Marines crept through the eerily silent corridors that linked together to form the Hellish facility that they were in. It had been nearly an hour since contact was lost with Sergeant Johnson and Captain Keyes, but David's squad had yet to see a damn thing…other than damage from previous battles fought, such as shell casings on the ground, plasma scarring, copious amounts of blood and discarded weapons…but never any bodies, which worried David terribly. The Covenant weren't known for carrying off their dead (more often preferring to leave them where they were), and the Marines normally did so on exfiltration, which had not yet occurred…

Add that to the fact that there were bullet holes and blast marks up high on the wall far too high for a panicky soldier to aim unless the weapon was fired there intentionally. Upon closer inspection, he found that there were marks of a sickly green blood up high on the walls relative in position to the plasma marks and bullet holes, and that indicated whatever they were fighting had the ability to climb on walls, which virtually meant the Marines had two hundred and seventy degree dome to cover to defend themselves from an attack.

"Timms, Owen, what's your status, over?"

There was static for a second before the reply came.

"All quiet on this end, Sarge. Nothing near the elevator shaft."

David went through the list of Marines that had come with him in his head and checked in with all of them regularly. He finally made his way to the main chamber where the Captain and his Squad had been, found it locked, and started to make his way back to catch up to Allister, who he'd left at the top of an incline, only to find him dead. Whatever killed him had done so quickly, efficiently and, most of all, silently. David fished through his pockets, took what ammo and grenades he could find, and then took Allister's dog tags. At that precise moment, everything went straight to Hell.

The Comm. Network exploded as the other five Marines shouted about contacts being everywhere and firing their weapons madly. The three he had left behind at a small junction, McClung, Davis and Smith, reported that all the doors around them were locked and that some sort of Mutated Elites had found their way into the room, followed by what seemed to be small bulbous creatures that wiggled and squirmed and crawled along the roof and walls. Timms and Owen both reported something similar, but the doors leading into the elevator shaft were unlocked; David still had a way to escape.

The young Marine immediately sprinted back in the direction he and Allister had come through, silently cursing at his luck and not being able to drag his comrade's body out of this hellhole. At the moment, though, the only thing that mattered was survival as David's legs carried him at top speed through the Forerunner complex, which were now quite literally alive with…whatever the things were that were crawling the place. He passed through a doorway, only to find two more deceased Marines; Owen and Timms, who had probably made their way here and were ambushed by those creatures. David searched around and found their dog tags, clambered up onto the catwalks they had come down from and made a mad dash for the elevator shafts.

Two doors were Flood free, but the one that led into the elevator room itself was full of them, and that wasn't even the scary part. Not only were there the small creatures he had seen the first time he 'met' the Forerunners, but there were larger forms that looked similar to Elites…except the head dangled lifelessly from the shoulders down around behind the back, and the right arm was replaced with three long tendrils which, as Carson quickly found out as the first form plowed those tentacles into his chest, were very sharp and powerful enough to send him sprawling to the ground and gasping for breath.

The tendrils had gone right through David's service armor; he could feel blood flowing from a trio of wounds across his chest. By the time he got reoriented, the creature was bearing down at him again bellowing a strangely warped war cry at a painfully high pitch. Carson brought the shotgun to bear and fired a shell straight through the thing's torso, which blew half the chest cavity out and sent it tumbling backward across the floor. David watched as the limbs twitched for a few more seconds, then stopped with one last great heave.

Sergeant Carson didn't have time to celebrate or study the sickly-green creature any closer, however; a dozen of the smaller forms were squirming right for him. He decided that the shotgun would be ineffective against such a small number, so he dropped it next to him and reached for his assault rifle…only to find that the weapon had cracked under the force of his body hitting the hard floor, so he went to his next alternative; the M6D. David didn't bother to activate the 2X optical zoom; it wouldn't be necessary at this range. Using the iron sights, he fired a single round into the closest of the creatures, which popped like a balloon and, apparently, detonated the others around it, effectively neutralizing half the opposing force with one shot. Slightly surprised, David fired again and took out the other half with extreme ease.

Why did the Forerunners fear such physically weak creatures as the Flood (he had now come to realize that the enemy he fought was none other than the Flood) so greatly? 'No' he told himself, 'they didn't fear the smaller ones…that feared the bigger ones.' After that realization had struck him, David pushed himself back to his feet, holstered the pistol, snatched up his shotgun and carefully approached the door again; it opened upon sensing his presence and he slowly peered through; everything was quiet on the other side…too quiet for anything good to be going on. David stepped through the threshold with the utmost discretion and checked the ceiling first; nothing there. He turned his head in both directions and found nothing on either side of the room…strange.

David stood still for several moments, listening for any sounds that might have come in front of him…but there was nothing but an eerie silence. He pressed his back to the wall in front of him and peeked around the corner; nothing there but the elevator shaft. After a moment of deliberation, he decided that is should be safe enough, dropped into a low crouch and made his way toward the shaft. Nothing came at him as he activated the device and began his ascent toward the surface.

"Charlie Company, this is Sergeant Carson. I'm on my way back up, hold your fire."

A moment passed and no response came. Either the transmission could not penetrate the walls of the compound…or everyone was dead. He held his breath and looked upward as the elevator ascended at a seemingly slow pace, almost like something was trying to torture him by slowing time down. David was understandably worried about the soldiers that were kept under his command; they were his responsibility and David didn't want to let them down. He'd already let enough of his fellow Marines down during his career…like back on Jericho IV. The young Marine shuddered visibly as the elevator reached the peak, and he nearly forgot about the other soldiers that were supposed to be up there.

Carson was snapped back to reality as he heard the different snaps, cracks and pops of weapons being loaded and readied to fire.

"Hold fire! Hold fire!" he shouted as he observed the soldiers around him. They were all wild-eyed and jittery.

David stepped off the lift and turned to the radio man. "I want you to send a transmission every five minutes detailing our position and status. Everyone else, guard duty in pairs, both at the top of the shaft and at the entrance to this facility in pairs. Switch off every twenty minutes so that no one gets jumpy. Kormak, Malchev, Yaegar and Milev, you're first."

The radio man immediately began broadcasting a message at maximum power and on every frequency he could access; at the moment, the Marines didn't care who found them as long as someone did and could get them the Hell out of this mess. David separated himself from the rest of the Marines and sat down in a corner of the room. He thumbed the dog tags in his hands, silently mourning the death of his comrades; David had known Owen and Timms since basic training, had met McClung, Allister and Davis on Reach, and only knew Smith a short while. In only a matter of minutes, five of his best friends in the Corps, which he didn't have very many of, were gone.

"Now you see the pain of the Flood." came the now familiar voice of the Forerunner known as Tier'Thal.

'I do…' David thought, shoving the tags into his pocket.

"You must now now the true purpose of Halo." This voice was Manaan, Tier'Thal's sister.

'The destruction of the Flood?'

"In a sense, yes. The Reclaimer will find a solution to this Halo, but the others will be out of his hands. Halo's sole purpose is the destruction of all sentient life large enough to sustain the Flood's mighty appetite. Humans, Covenant, everything. We activated the Halos as a last resort…and the Flood still persist." Tier'Thal said solemly.

'Why me? The Master Chief is far more capable than I am.'

"You will see in time, young David Carson." Replied a third and much older voice, that of Nak'Niral, the oldest of the trio. "Your destiny runs parallel to that of the Reclaimer; if either should fail, all will perish. You carry a great weight, Young One, but we have confidence your shoulders are broad enough to hold it."

David grinned softly; he had come to know these three rather well over the last few days (he had been unconscious quite a bit) and could now communicate them in conscious thought. At times, it could be distracting (like when he was talking to Cassandra), but comforting at others. Although David wasn't exactly sure why these Forerunners had so much confidence in him, he knew he couldn't let them down; that would mean destruction of the galaxy again.

"Hey, Sarge!" called the radio man.

"Yeah boy?" David called back.

"There's a Pelican coming in from Alpha's general direction! I can't reach it, for some reason; the swamp seems to be jamming my comms."

"Keep trying; someone's bound to pick up."