Anthony DeCosmo - Parallels

Trevor watched Brewer. The man resembled his friend from pre-Armageddon days, in appearance and action. Like his former self from another world, this Jon Brewer believed in the doctrine of preemption. Instead of remaining in a defensive position, he went on the offensive, moving from the room he covered, to the hall, and then he apparently sensed a presence around a corner. Brewer ran into the room, gun blazing. He took a pellet in the chest for his trouble, but also managed to put a pellet into…the only other remaining Green teammate.

From the bucket overhead came the instructor screaming, "Brewer! Morris! You idiots! You're on the same damn team and you're both out!"

Reverend Johnny gasped to Trevor, "I cannot believe such incompetence."

Trevor threw a stern glance at Major Forest first, then answered Johnny, "It's not incompetence, Reverend. Like everything else I've seen here, they're sloppy and disinterested."

"Hey," Nina defended her comrades. "These are some of the best guys in Third L."

Trevor shot back with red in his cheeks, "And they've been hiding behind defensive walls for how long? Months? Years? How long since you people even left this city?"

She said nothing.

Trevor spat, "I thought so."

The instructor blew a whistle and lowered the observation bucket.

"All right, all right. Seems like you guys just don’t got it today. Let’s hit the showers."

Both teams exited the mock-up and gathered their gear. Brewer gave the one who shot him a shove but most of the soldiers laughed at how the drill ended.

Trevor-with his hands clenched in fists and his eyes staring at the atrocity below-marched down the bleachers like a twister spawning over an unsuspecting Kansas town. Major Forest practically fell as she stumbled to her feet to follow.

Before the group could disperse, Trevor growled, "Stop." Not so much loud, but deep.

The soldiers turned to the sound of the voice and practically froze. He saw fear, shock, surprise, doubt, and disbelief in their eyes.

"Being a soldier is more than carrying a gun and wearing a uniform. What I just watched… disgusting. You are all going to die on the battlefield."

The instructor stumbled, "Now, wait a second, I don’t know who you think you are-"

"Shut up."

The chubby man with rank on his collar looked around Trevor at Major Forest.

"Why are you looking at her? Look at me," he commanded the instructor. "You should be ashamed. You've failed your men! When their blood is spilled it will be on your hands!"

One of the rank and file objected, "It's just a basic training mission. No big deal."

Trevor turned on him. "What’s your name?"

The man-young and cocky with hair too slick to be the hair of a grunt-stepped forward in confrontation and answered, "Pickering."

"Pickering, you ever see a Crawling Tube Worm?"

"Um…I don’t think so."

Trevor brushed over the likelihood that Nina’s humans had a different nickname for that vile creature. He did not care about details at that moment.

"Do you know what it does? It swallows a man whole, digests him for a couple of days, then shits him out into a pile."

Pickering shrugged yeah, so?

"The whole time… the whole friggin’ time…you’re alive. Even after it shits you out you’re still alive. Only, you just spent a couple of days inside an intestinal tract. Skin dissolved away, most of your internal organs digested, hair and eyes and all that. Lots of blood, sure, yeah. Most of the time folks are still breathing when it takes a dump, but they’re crazy. Can’t move. No arms. No legs. They just lay there like the rest of the feces except they moan and cry until a buddy puts a bullet through what’s left of their brains."

"That’s pretty bad, man," the guy replied in that same arrogant voice.

"The point is — what I’m trying to tell you — is I’ve seen piles of Crawling Tube Worm shit that was still a better soldier than you, Pickering. And if you don’t wipe that cocky smile off your face I’m GOING TO CUT YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF."

"Who the Hell are you?" Came the familiar voice of Jon Brewer.

Trevor's head turned fast. Nina quickly interjected, "Your Legion has been briefed on this man. You know who he is."

Trevor walked over to the Jon Brewer of this alternate universe. This was not the man he knew back home, but the one from before the world went to Hell.

"You're the worst of the lot," Trevor told him. "You want to know why? Because I know you're better than what I saw out there. You're too damn cocky to realize it. You need to stop talking so much and start thinking."

"Hey, easy does it," the instructor jumped in. "I’ve trained these guys myself. A little relaxed, yeah, but this a damn good team. Best in Third Legion."

Murmurs of ‘yeah’ and ‘damn straight’ echoed amongst the troops.

"Really? Best in third legion? Okay. Prove it. Clear the building," and Trevor walked toward the dummy structure.

"Hey! You don’t have a gun!" Brewer yelled.

Stone did not turn around as he replied, "I will in a minute."

He entered through an open door then shut it behind.

The instructor looked to Major Forest who said, "You heard the man. Clear the building."

"Um," the leader stumbled. "Which team should I send in?"

Reverend Johnny yelled from the top of the bleachers, "I’d send in both if I were you!"

Nina ascended the stands for a better view. The instructor raised his platform and ordered, "Brewer, switch to Blue Team. Pickering, take Green."

Brewer and Pickering discussed strategy, the former accentuating his points with shouts and a jabbing finger. The others poked their heads into the conversation offering alternatives, debating approaches, and generally foiling any attempt to create a comprehensive plan.

Nina arrived at the top of the bleachers next to the Reverend.

"Either your Trevor has a big ego or he’s damned good."

"Perhaps a little of both. Or, maybe, a lot of both, my dear."

While the instructor refereed from the raised bucket lift, Nina and Johnny watched from the stands. They could not see everything, but they could see enough.

Brewer's Blue team entered through the door Trevor had used. The Green team circled around to the far side and headed in.

For his part, Trevor maneuvered through the cluster of rooms toward the center of the giant cube where he paused until a shadow approached from a connecting room. He darted to another room, but someone spotted his shadow.

"There he is!"

Pop-pop-pop mock guns fired plastic pellets hitting walls and fake furniture.

"Wait, where’d he go?"

Brewer followed his two team members through a four-way intersection near the center. They remained focused forward to the point that Jon did not see Trevor close in from behind. Stone reached up and grabbed the taller man around the throat with one arm and overwhelmed his trigger finger with the other.

Pop-pop-pop.

The instructor's voice yelled, "Wilson! Edgars! You’re out!"

Brewer struggled with Trevor for control of the gun, using his hands to try and muscle the weapon from his opponent's grip only to find himself letting go of the prize when a leg-sweep sent him tumbling backwards.

Pop-Pop.

"Brewer is out!"

Jon did not like that, regardless of how red his patches glowed. While Wilson and Edgars followed procedure and sat on the floor with their hands behind their heads, this Jon Brewer of an alternate universe followed Trevor along the hall. A moment later, Brewer flew out a window onto the gymnasium floor with a broken nose and an equally fractured ego.

"Brewer, you are way out!"

If Green team had not been moving with an overabundance of caution, they probably would have caught Trevor in the midst of dealing with Brewer's insubordination. Instead, by the time they reached the commotion, Trevor had moved off.