A/N: There were some changes I needed to make to this chapter and I didn't get around to it because I have to write a paper on the Hadza hunter gatherers that's due on Tuesday and...UGH!
Oh well, forgive me please. Also, quick re-announcement because I've gotten reviews about it, although I'm liable to believe that those people don't read this A/N's and that's why they keep mentioning it, so here goes in all bold:
Due to my schooling, updates are ONLY ON SUNDAY. Thank you for your understanding, you guys are all so awesome.
Thank you to the reviewers, you guys make my day...not in the Dirty Harry kind of way, but in the good, positive, all smiles and no sawed off shot guns sort of way.
And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing. It's his birthday today, so give him well wishes everybody.
XXXIV.
Adrenaline kicked hot through Ben's veins the moment he heard the siren's cry of the Mech. He slung his rifle into place up in the crook of his shoulder, swiftly and stealthily moving out of the backyard and down the street, sparing not so much as a glance to see where Jimmy was at, it wasn't necessary, he could hear the other boy's near silent movements. He only paused once he reached the corner of the cul-de-sac to listen for the attack and get his bearings straight. At a touch to his elbow, he cocked his head inquisitively to the side.
"Ben, you're drunk, I don't know if you should go…" Jimmy started concernedly.
Ben finally looked back at the other boy, his jaw firm and eyes intense. Loathe as he was to admit it, it was true that he'd been drunk, but his head and vision felt inexplicably clear now; he could sense everything going on in the camp. There were at least twenty Skitters scattered in packs of twos and threes around the community center, and five Mechs. Fighters were scrambling to muster a defense, attempting to gather the civilians inside of the building while fighting off the enemy. Everything was chaos, people were screaming, shouting, small children crying amidst the fire, debris and shrapnel shooting every which direction.
"I'm fine," Ben told him.
"You were wasted two seconds ago," Jimmy protested.
"I'm fine now. Maybe you ought to stay," Ben decided, "You've had a bit to drink and I think…"
"I'm okay. You were the one that couldn't even get a button undone," Jimmy returned sharply, shouldering his own rifle and seething, "If you're fine, then let's move."
Because of his heightened hearing, Ben was better able to pinpoint the location of the gunfight, so he led the way through the winding streets. When they were close to the action, the smell of explosives, blood, and gunpowder hot on the air, Ben signaled Jimmy one direction, indicating the number of aliens he could expect to find and then darted across the street, disappearing in the night the other way.
Jimmy dug the butt of his gun into his shoulder and let the barrel lead him as he stalked through the night, senses on alert. He kept his back to the large, cement walls that circled the backyards of those houses lining the street, attempting to stay in shadows. There were three Skitters in the area according to Ben's gestures, and though he couldn't see the other boy, he knew Ben wasn't far and would be there instantly should something catch Jimmy unawares.
Movement to the left caught Jimmy's eyes; he froze, swung his gun around and waited for a visual before firing three shots. One hit the Skitter's body, one grazed its fourth leg, and the last went clean through its head. It dropped to the ground.
Jimmy scoured the darkness, staying glued to the spot, blanketed in shadows with his back to the wall. He waited for signs of more Skitters.
None.
He heard gunfire nearby, another explosion. His heart squeezed tighter and tighter with every beat in his chest. He moved again, swinging his gun round to watch his back then forward again, always on the lookout for more aliens.
Jimmy caught a glimpse of movement across the street, a figure coming at him from between two houses. He froze again; his gun poised to shoot; waited a couple seconds then lowered the gun slightly.
Dai stepped out of the shadows, his own gun pointed downward. He nodded acknowledgment to Jimmy, then the sound of advancing Skitters caught their ears, they both spun round, fired on the three creatures rushing towards them from down the street, dropping the nightmare creatures easily in a rapid flurry of bullets. Dai jogged across the street to join Jimmy, nodded at the younger boy to follow and Jimmy did as ordered.
Together they half-sprinted, half-stalked down the street towards the sound of more gunfire and found a couple more fighters pinned down behind a station wagon firing on a group of Skitters. Side-by-side, Dai and Jimmy fell under cover and opened fire as well, dropping a few of the nasty bugs.
They heard the clunky footsteps of an advancing Mech and Dai tugged a grenade from his vest, signaled to Jimmy to cover him. Jimmy nodded understanding and dropped a Skitter, then turned his gunfire on the large mechanical beast. Though his bullets did little to harm the monstrosity, it did gain its attentions. The Mech started rushing towards Jimmy, giving Dai the chance to roll under its foot and tuck the grenade in place. Jimmy and Dai both tossed themselves to the ground as the Mech burst into pieces, shrapnel falling all over the place.
They opened fire again on the Skitters, but by then, there were only a few left to kill and then Jimmy and Dai met up with the other fighters. One of the men was on his back, blood pooling in his gut and spilling onto the pavement; another of the fighters was cradling his head and whispering soothing words to him. The other fighter, a stocky woman named Beryl, stood to the side checking her ammo. There were sounds of gunfire elsewhere.
"How many units are attacking?" Jimmy asked in a low breathy voice.
"Not sure," Dai answered distractedly, "They came at us on all sides. Where did you come from?"
Jimmy blinked, surprised by the sudden switch in conversation, and flushing at the thought of his and Ben's romantic night out in the backyard of some random house nearly half a mile outside of the camp perimeter. At first, he wondered embarrassedly at Dai's interest in his original whereabouts, until he realized that Dai was just trying to get an assessment of the battlefield.
"Couple blocks over," Jimmy replied, stammering, "Some house with a pool and…waterfall…" He winced and confessed, "Ben was with me."
"Where is he now?" Dai asked, not even bothering to dwell on the many questions posed by that information, though Beryl did give Jimmy an odd look.
"I don't know. Nearby," Jimmy answered sheepishly, well aware of the deep rouge in his cheeks and grateful of the moonless night.
Then, as if on cue, there came a sound of gunfire and the soft plop of heavy bodies hitting the ground, which precipitated the stealthy, almost noiseless approach of the 2nd Mass's resident superman. Ben stepped over the Skitters he'd just dropped, jogged the short distance from himself to the group, lowering his rifle and looking expectantly between the other fighters.
"There's another two Mechs on the southern perimeter," Ben reported to Dai, "Pope and his boys are on it. There are a few more Skitters scattered throughout camp, but they're being taken care of by other fighters. Some Skitters are retreating, I can deal with them if you want." He sighed, his eyes falling to the fighter dying on the street, "There are a few fighter casualties…some civilian too."
"Go," Dai commanded, nodding stiffly and Ben wordlessly turned and sprinted out into the night after the escaping Skitters. Jimmy watched his retreat for the few seconds he could before darkness swallowed the other boy whole, then turned his attention on the highest commanding officer in the area.
"Let's head back to camp," Dai announced, motioning to Jimmy for help with the injured fighter.
Between them they carried the injured fighter, his arms slung over their shoulders, but by the time they reached camp, he had quietly died. The rest of the 2nd Mass was busy recovering from the attack. There were four fighters dead, and eleven civilians including a little girl. Jimmy hadn't been close to any of them, but he had known them all at least by face, there were only so many people in the 2nd Mass. He had once played a game of Chutes and Ladders with the little girl, entertaining her late one night when neither of them could sleep.
Dai left to report in with Weaver and Jimmy looked for somewhere to be helpful around camp. He came across Hal first; the older Mason was on his way to Dr. Glass where he'd left Matt when the Skitters attacked.
"Where's Ben?" Hal questioned right-off-the-bat.
"Went to round up stragglers," Jimmy answered, then returned, "Where's Maggie?"
Last Jimmy had heard, Maggie and her scouting group had been in camp, their search for a new campground postponed by the sudden appearance of Skitter units traveling along the roadways they were using. At the time, no one thought much of the shift in enemy units' routes; Weaver put patrols on it and ordered fighters return to regular duties until further notice. Skitters were always popping up seemingly from nowhere and passing along in random areas, moving from one point to another to carry out whatever their leaders' ominous plans for the planet were, but in retrospect, Jimmy wondered if it was a crucial detail that could've informed this attack. He knew Weaver was somewhere worrying over the same question.
"Helping round up civilians in the main gym," Hal replied, then asked, "You okay?"
Jimmy nodded stiffly, "Yeah. You?"
Hal smirked grimly in response, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder then the two split opposite directions.
Just as Hal had said, Maggie was inside the community center, corralling civilians into the gym where they usually slept for the night, and helping a few other fighters with a head count. Maggie advanced on Jimmy as soon as she saw him, giving him an inspective once over then ruffling his hair affectionately.
"You okay, kid?"
"Yeah. What can I do right now?" Jimmy asked eagerly.
"Well, right now we're trying to establish everyone's whereabouts…" Maggie explained as she started walking away; she barely had a chance to spin around and catch Jimmy before he face-planted on the ground, sputtering in stun, "But what you can do right now is go lie down and grab a breather."
Jimmy blinked away the sudden black inkiness splotching across his vision, his head spinning, dizzy. He shook it off and straightened, flushing with embarrassment and glancing around to assess how many had seen his near-fainting spell. Thankfully, most people were too busy to notice.
"I'm fine," he stammered, it wasn't a total lie. He buried his red face in a palm, his limbs felt so heavy, as though made of lead. He murmured, "I don't know what just happened."
"What just happened is weeks on end with less than two hours of sleep a night and then a sudden burst of adrenaline. We're good here, Jimmy," Maggie assured the young boy. She placed her hand on his forehead a moment, pushed the hair away from his face, then dropped her hand to rest on his shoulder, "Go find somewhere to sit, rest. We'll let you know if we need you."
Jimmy sighed, rolling his eyes and nodding grumpily. He put a great deal of effort into looking as though he were walking easily out of that community center, and wandered around camp for a few minutes, people scrambling around him attempting to make themselves useful, before finding himself at Ben's tent, wondering how long the other boy would take. He slipped inside and took a seat on the sleeping bag.
The dizziness was returning in full force, and now a cold feeling rushed through Jimmy's veins, and a sound like the ocean roared in his ears. He gasped for breath, he felt as though he were drowning, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, involuntary tears streaming down his cheek. His hand was trembling and he hastily rolled the sleeve back, the translucence was back and it had spread all along his forearm, crawling up past his elbow towards the bicep.
"What is wrong with me…?" he whispered harshly, hugging the limb to himself. An overwhelming fear swallowed him whole, and as he fell into a rush of black, his head hitting the floor of the tent heavily, the hard impact ringing through his skull, the only thought in his mind was a silent prayer that Ben would return to save him from the darkness soon.
…
It was well past midnight when Ben made it back to the 2nd Mass. He'd followed the retreating Skitters back to the playground where he had slaughtered five Skitters several nights back. Vaguely, guiltily, he wondered if their comrades, felled by his hand, had been what alerted them to the 2nd Mass's presence, but part of Ben felt certain that the Skitters had known since the moment the 2nd Mass arrived at that community center that they were 'hidden away' there and this was just the first the enemy decided to do anything about it.
Ben hunted down the rest of the Skitters in the area, ten in all, and killed them each with relatively little struggle. They were all too scattered to come to one another's aid when he sprung his attacks.
Still feeling restless, adrenaline pumping at high level, Ben took his time returning to the 2nd Mass. They had been fine when he left; winding down from that assault, and Ben hadn't heard the telltale sounds of other hidden units in the area.
They didn't need him for the after battle cool down. If he tried to help out in recovery stages he usually just received dark looks for his troubles and there was typically an increase in mutterings behind his back about 'why couldn't he have just been taken in the attack' and 'how do we know he isn't reporting back to the Skitters our location' and 'Don't let that razorback near me, I'll blow his fucking head off if he comes near me'. Often times he found himself wondering how many people really were unaware of his heightened hearing or if maybe they all knew and were just feigning ignorance, all along intending for him to hear their cruel words.
Regardless, Ben needed the long jog and, more specifically, the thrill of the hunt to cool his head. He felt restless, his senses going a mile a minute.
He could hear everything – everything – for miles around. The ants crawling on the ground, the birds nesting in trees, the low whistle of a small breeze flitting through the grass, he could hear it all as though mother nature herself were kicked to max volume.
His eyes didn't so much see the world, it sensed it, every color invading his mind and overloading his brain. He noticed everything – everything – that moved within his field of vision for several yards away, well past the twenty-twenty marker.
The smells were oddly muted, but the feelings were intense. The air prickled his skin, it was almost as though he could feel every individual molecule around him and he could feel how it moved, how it flowed. He wasn't sensing these things around him; he was sensing these things through him.
It almost made him wonder about how things might taste.
By the time Ben made it back to camp he had jogged for hours, found seven more Skitters and killed some with his gun, the rest with his knife. He was drenched in sweat and Skitter blood. The 2nd Mass had calmed considerably since he'd left, many of the civilians were securely inside, slumbering from the sounds of things. Weaver was conversing about a course of action in response to the attack with several of the most trusted fighters and Hal seemed to be amongst them, along with Dai, of course, Anthony, and Maggie. Undoubtedly, he would call a full meeting soon. Many other fighters were out and about securing the perimeter.
Ben went around the backside of the community center building where he knew there to be a hose faucet and used the water there to clean himself up a bit. He listened to the people around camp, sorting through the sounds in search of those people who mattered most to him. He could hear that people were mourning; some demanded to know who would or should bear responsibility for the attack, while others easily placed blame in the failings of all fighters and their commander.
For Ben, it was difficult to listen to, the fighters risked themselves daily for the group, and civilians that refused to lift weapons and go into the battlefield had no room to talk about where blame should lie. Furthermore, it was absurd to expect their commander anticipate everything to the point of superhuman abilities of premonition. Weaver had placed a patrol on the area where the surge in units was obvious and awaited further information; it was what any good commander would or could do in that situation, and he had planned on letting whatever gathered intel came back direct his next actions. From the sounds of Weaver's discussions with the other fighters, the patrol hadn't returned, and was presumed dead, which bumped the fighter casualty count up four more to eight, a hit they couldn't afford to their already severely dwindling numbers, though Weaver wanted to immediately send out a unit to confirm the deaths.
Ben frowned, standing and knocking water from his hands. He could hear Matt in the community center with Dr. Glass and Lourdes, shaken up if the tremble in his small voice as he asked for his brothers were any indication, but Ben couldn't locate Jimmy. He tried not to let himself panic, he'd seen Jimmy before pursuing the retreating Skitters. Jimmy had been in one piece then and the fight had already been dying down, it was unlikely he could have suffered anything terrible in Ben's absence, so Ben decided to check in on Matt, hoping to run across Jimmy or someone who knew his whereabouts along the way.
.
.
.
A/N: It's sort of subtly hinted at but never outright mentioned in First Patrol, in the scene after the drunken first kiss when Ben and Jimmy are at the Ranger Station, Ben venting, and Jimmy has obvious 'hung-over' symptoms but Ben really doesn't and should for someone so drunk, anyhow Ben doesn't process alcohol the same as everyone else. It'll be explained later...much later.
Thanks for stopping by! Let me know what you think.
Reviewers: SassySavanna190, Interesting thoughts on Roman's talk with Jimmy. Ben really couldn't confront Roman there or tell Weaver, because he's got nothing. He overheard some odd things, but in the end, its his word against theirs, and unharnessed kids all around get no benefit of the doubt. Last, if aliens did invade, unless they were Star Trek style aliens (read as: looked almost human save for funny ears or ridges on the nose) then yes, they would think we looked just as strange as they did to us. They also wouldn't call themselves aliens, unless they were using the term to communicate to us in their language because that's what we refer to them as. Izzy IRT, YAY, thanks for being my 200th reviewer! I'm glad you love the story. JDMlvr1, ahahahahahahahaha, yes, I'm terrible. They were close too, so freaking close. Damn alien invasion, always getting in the way of the schmexy. You are forgiven for the lateness, damn phone hiding things from you. Caswiee, lol, you should join the club. The "We love the story but hate the author for being such a cruel heartless bitch" club. No...not repaid in this chapter...maybe not the next either. I promise, it'll get paid in full eventually. No more cookies? I think I may cry. Cookie97, wait, here's a cookie! Best kind too. I'm glad you liked Roman's confession, and you're not as paranoid about it as some people...won't discuss his motives though. Drunk/horny Ben is the best! I love writing him drunk/horny. A sign of sexual frustration huh? No, I had never heard that, though it certainly would make sense in both Jimmy and Ben's case. Jimmy because he doesn't want to admit how much he wants Ben, and Ben because Jimmy won't admit how much he wants Ben.
Hm...I kept forgetting, but last I'd heard from WhisperMaw she had mid-terms to take, and I completely blanked (twice) on wishing her luck with those, this is why I shouldn't post these chapters before I've had coffee, anyhow, I assume you're reading WhisperMaw so I hope you did well on those mid-terms!
Right. Hope you all enjoyed. I'm off to write a paper. First paper of the semester, my stomach is rife with anxiety. See you all Sunday!