Protect and Follow
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Events come to a head in Vega – leading to the beginning of something new for mankind.
Chapter 25: The Beginning Part Two
Clutching the semi-automatic weapon close to his chest, Alex leaned tiredly against the nearby building and breathed in and out; fast and hard. The exertion of it made him feel lightheaded and a little unsteady. He shut his lids as stinging sweat seeped into his eyes; and blinked quickly to clear his vision. Wheezing in smoke and the stench of death he could feel Pete close at his back – his breathing a twin ragged, synchronization of his own.
His heart hammered in his chest and sent waves of vibrating rhythmic pounding crashing into his ribcage. Bile pricked at the back of his throat, but with extreme concentration and effort – he held back the persistent urge to vomit. Several sets of frantic eyes from his fighting force were looking to him for leadership; calm and purpose. They were frightened; anxious; brave and undeterred.
It wouldn't do to lose it now.
Scanning the street littered with the bodies of eight balls and humans alike, he found no hint of Noma – where she might have gotten to; or if she were even still alive. He had lost track of her some time ago. The winding twisting battle in the streets sending their ranks in divergent directions; and he feared for her. Not only that, he feared for himself and his sanity if he were to lose her. For at this very moment, he was holding on by a thread; a thread taunt with panic and dread.
This would all be for what if she was not by his side? He couldn't do this without her.
He flinched minutely as the angry war cannon blasts filled the night air; and instinctively pulled Pete back with him against the brick wall of Mason's Mercantile for what little cover it could offer. Flashes of billowy orange smoke lit up the sky. The deafening noise impaired his hearing to muffled chaos as the rumbling beneath his feet caused him to sway and stagger into Pete as they huddled side by side with their comrades for cover.
When he looked up, the image of Duma on the large jumbo screen atop Riesen Tower assailed him. His monotone message to "deliver the chosen one or die" sent a shiver of guilt and remorse down his spine. All those dead….it was his fault. They followed him blindly into this nightmare. How could he live with it; what was he to do if they did not succeed in wrestling the city from Duma's clutches.
When he looked up into those steely eyes he could practically feel General Riesen's torment – over taken by Duma, unable to assert his true self. He bowed his head in despair. Claire was dead, as was her father in a way….his child, never to meet and love - unborn; the citizens of Vega under threat of annihilation. This was all on him.
Silently he cursed the markings on his body; cursed his fate – his duty; then quickly asked God for forgiveness. He would do this thing; fight for mankind – it was what he was born for.
He felt himself spiraling down into inertia when Pete yelled frenetically in his ear, "We need to pull back! Get off these streets!"
Alex frowned, and stared bewildered in the face of his friend's frantic announcement. Pete stood before him – bloody; wearily swiping his hand through gritty hair; his tire iron held tight in his grip. He didn't understand. How could they retreat? To where? They had only one option – to stand their ground and fight to the end. Pete leaned in closer and yelled, "We need to regroup Alex!" – And watched as he pointed toward an underground parking garage area beneath the Luxor.
Alex looked down the line of Vega citizens and saw the exhaustion on the faces of what was left of their army. They had been fighting guerrilla style now for hours; but the eight balls were relentless and seemed to swarm upon them at every turn. A never ending body of them surged in ebbs and flows bearing down on them at a frenzied pace.
Mad they were – programmed to think as one; to killed them all; and unafraid to die. As one fell it seemed three took its place. His mind fell on the reality that deep under their hatred for humans – they were human as well. Their identities stolen – replaced with the consciousness of lower angels, hell bent on destruction.
They were killing their own.
Listening to the wall cannon barrage the edges of the city, he knew Michael had done his part. Gotten the cannon on line and for hours now could feel the tremors and explosions out on the perimeter. But still they came.
Every now and then when he searched the sky – he could see Michael; wings expanded gliding gracefully above the fray, scouting - indicating where to blast the enemy; which street to attack – which to avoid.
Taking stock of Pete's haggard, determined face and stance; he knew the man was right. They needed to rethink this. It was impossible to keep up the strike; run; duck and cover; attack style much longer here on the ground. They needed a new strategy.
Duma's voice droned over the cacophony, his repeated message of surrender or die weighing him down. So he nodded his assent and let Pete lead them to the underground.
Noma turned expertly in a tight circle, clearing the way ahead of her as she effortlessly wiped out a dozen or so eight balls in a single arc with her automatic weapon. War was nothing new to her; and she wore it like a second skin. No matter the era, it was all about purpose; and survival. Stepping back into the shadows to remain hidden, she wondered worriedly where Alex and Pete were; if they were okay; and above all alive.
Some time back she and handful of others had gotten separated from the main group and together they had fought valiantly, until now – she stood alone, bobbing and weaving through back streets and alleyways decimating as many eight balls as she could.
Bowing her head, she cursed her body and for the thousandth time wished she still retained her gift – her power; her wings – sacrificed it seemed an eon ago - sacrificed willingly for the chosen one.
Deep in the recess of memory, she could hear Michael's angry recrimination echo, "pay your debt and give your life." Frowning, she shook off the memory to concentrate on the here and now.
Over the course of battle, she had seen Michael take to the sky – flying above the clouds of destruction caused by the wall cannon, pointing out where to fire next – attempting to give them all some kind of advantage.
Banging the back of her head against the wall where she stood, waiting to attack again; she could feel her anger and resentment rise up from her belly erupting in a feral cry of frustration. If only she could take flight, spread her wings bear down on the enemy with all of her strength she knew the tide would turn in their favor.
She could do so much more give Alex so much more – be of better use….if only she still retained God's gift to her. Perhaps she could even atone for her terrible sins of the past – sins committed twenty-five years ago; sins she would never reveal to him…..the fear of his hatred more painful than the loss of her wings.
Instead, she was trapped in a body she did not understand; a body that was weak and lost.
Ahead more eight balls clumsily approached, pulling her from thoughts of inadequacy that had no place in war. Creeping stealth like from dark corners, circling to attack from the rear, she deftly dispatched the snarling band and retreated back into hidden places.
She needed to find her way back to the main group. Find Alex and stop fighting out here alone. As she stepped out to head back in the direction she last had contact with Alex and Pete – there in the middle of the street stood a single, lone man, still; quiet – his gallon hat tilted back on his head, away from his face. His smile wide, and eyes alight with a knowing secret.
Peering about, she wondered at the sight of him, and crept closer – her weapon targeted at his head in case he meant to harm her or rushed her. But she saw no weapons in the holster resting on his hips; and frowned curious as to what he wanted from her out here in the middle of this carnage.
Was he here to torment her, offer up her deepest desire – to be whole again?
As she moved toward the silent stranger, she also began to notice the eerie, calm silence of the street. Suddenly the slick purr of his voice reached out to her and held her hostage. Lowering her weapon, she felt defenseless; hopeless and forlorn. How could she fight this demon of betrayal that resided in her heart?
"Hello Noma. Fancy meeting you here", he laughed; and felt her resolve to withstand his persuasive powers weaken.
Thank you for reading. For those of you have read; and followed this story – I can only apologize for the long wait to update. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; and I hope to continue; and complete this. I hope you can stay with it and bear with me. Please leave a review to let me know what you think.