Chapter 41
The neomorphs were following them.
It hadn't been hard to spot them. Their stark-white skin stood out brightly in the gray-green world that the NODs presented. For some reason, the ones that were tracking them were now keeping their distance. Liscomb didn't know if it was because they'd had their fill of human flesh, or if they were being cautious of any survivors. Liscomb smirked at this. The odds of them surviving that crash had been so slim that even the aliens were baffled by it.
Rook had saved his ass. The synth had seen him go under the water, and had dove in shortly after getting Fulmer and the company man onto shore. Liscomb had puked up a decent bit of water after Rook's CPR brought him back. When Liscomb remembered the situation they found themselves in, he wondered if having drowned would have been the better option.
The four survivors from the landing site were all fucked up in some form or fashion. Rook had multiple injuries on top of his missing hand and other parts that had been torn off during his scuffle with the neomorph. Kurt, the company puke, had a broken right arm and collar bone. Fulmer had a piece of shrapnel stuck through the right side of her stomach, and Liscomb had a fractured left tibia, a broken wrist, broken nose, and a concussion.
And as if that wasn't enough, they were being chased by bloodthirsty aliens. Again.
Rook had woken them all with emergency smelling salts from the synth's med pouch. After giving each of them a stim shot, and a minute dose of Fen-4 to stave off the pain, he'd told them about the contact he'd made with Sergeant Hopkins from Second Platoon. Hopkins had apparently sent up a flare, the location of which Rook had locked into his internal compass. That was where they were headed.
Liscomb turned around and saw the pale body dart behind a clutch of trees. It was closer than it had been last time. He didn't know what kind of cat-and-mouse game these things were playing, but he was thankful they were keeping their distance for now. He wasn't sure if they'd be able to stave off another coordinated attack. Though he'd probably just shoot Kurt in the leg and leave the corporate worm behind to buy himself and the others more time.
"Look, they sent up another flare!" Kurt said, gasping for air as he continued forward. He followed close behind Rook, while Fulmer limped behind, one hand clutching her wounded stomach. Liscomb covered the rear, continuing to look behind them and sweep for hostiles. He noticed that the neomorphs darted away from them, avoiding cover and running on all fours in the opposite direction of the flare. The flare!
"They're scared of the flare." Liscomb said, turning to catch up with them. Rook, Kurt, and Fulmer had all stopped. "Guys, they're scared of the flare." He said as he limped forward. None of them responded. "What are you guys…" He stopped when he saw it too.
They'd reached the field of bodies that Hopkins had told Rook about. Unfortunately, it hadn't been an exaggeration.
What was probably an already terrifying sight was made worse by the flare's rapidly-flickering light and the long shadows it cast from the mottled, twisted forms. Liscomb looked over the bodies, then towards where the flare hung in the sky.
"Holy shit." He said, mouth agape in awe.
Hopkins hadn't been lying when he'd told Rook that there was a city.
"A city." Kurt scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "A fucking city right here! How could we have missed this? How?" He looked at the Marines, who stared ahead. "You know, you Marines are supposed to be some high-tech hombres. How the hell did you guys miss-"
Kurt was cut off when he heard the distant popping of gunfire. It was followed by echoed yells that were carried up the large hill by the wind.