Jon Messenger: Burden of Sisyphus

The creature that impersonated Hicks swished its spiked tail back and forth and turned toward the three remaining soldiers in the room. Eyes wide with fright, one swung his rifle toward the creature and squeezed the trigger.

The window exploded inward, as the first round tore through the thick glass and struck the soldier’s temple. His scalp peeled away on the far side of his head, as the high-velocity round passed through and struck the far wall, spraying the back of the room with blood.

A second report shook the room, as another round struck the soldier closest to the window in the chest, lifting him from his feet and tossing his body farther into the narrow room.

The remaining soldier ran through the back door, deeper into the steel-and-concrete complex.

The dark creature surveyed the grizzly scene and flicked its tail, splashing more droplets of blood against the wall. A clawed hand reached to its throat and pressed a small button embedded in its neck.

“Sir, we have a runner,” it said into its throat mike.

Two miles away, three camouflaged figures watched the events unfold through high-powered scopes. A figure fully cloaked in red robes and scarves reached under the scarf around its throat and keyed his own microphone.

“Roger that, Ixibas.” The red-robed figure turned toward two prone figures on his right. “Ainj and Yen are tracking his progress now.”

Ainj pulled a massive sniper rifle tighter against an anemic-looking frame with surprising strength. His pale skin seemed ill fitted for this world’s harsh desert climate, but he pulled his feathered wings over his body to keep the sun away from his sharp eyes. Staring through the scope, he panned right from the window to the communications tower, following the soldier’s movements through the two-foot-thick concrete walls.

Yen Xiao crouched quietly beside Ainj, his eyes closed and fingers intertwined. His yellow skin glistened with sweat, as he concentrated, and the elongated spines running down his back flexed and relaxed with the rhythm of his calming breaths. The air around him shimmered faintly, as if heat radiated from him. His features danced, as the shimmering increased in pace with his deepening concentration. In a tranquil voice, he called out commands to Ainj.

‘Right twenty meters, up one.” His dark brows furrowed, as he focused.

Ainj followed his direction, tracing a path along the featureless concrete wall.

“He’s gone up a floor and is heading back. Left five meters, up another three.”

Ainj angled the tip of the massive sniper rifle left, pausing only briefly, as his sights passed over a female creature scaling the side of the building, heading directly toward the antiaircraft weapons lining the roof of the communications center. Bony protrusions along her hands and feet dug into the building’s thick stonework, as she climbed higher. A large spear, strapped to her back, bounced as she moved.

“Left two more meters,” Yen said, “and you have him.”

The sniper rifle followed the directions flawlessly. Ainj, focusing on the location, squeezed the trigger.

The wall near Nova Tirana exploded, showering her with small rocks and a cloud of white dust. She shook her hair free, and debris showered twenty feet to the red sand below.

“The last interior guard is down,” the red-robed man called over the radio. “Nova, you’re up. Watch the timeline.”

“Roger.” She pulled the bony protrusions around her knuckles free of the wall and began climbing again. As she slammed the white-bone ridges around her hands and feet into the wall, a loud thump echoed, as she scrambled for purchase. Sweat rolled around the boney ridges along her cheeks and jawline, which she shook free with a toss of her head.

Cresting the top of the wall, Nova pulled the long spear off her back, as she climbed to her feet. Antiaircraft weapons sat on either side of her, their barrels pointed skyward. A pair of Terran soldiers manned each weapon. At the sight of the female Uligart climbing the lip of the wall, they reached for their weapons.

Nova spun the spear artfully, slicing off both hands of the closest Terran, as he reached for his rifle. Screaming, he stumbled backward. Using his momentum against him, she drove the butt of the spear unto his gut, lifting him off his feet and tossing him off the roof. Completing the spin of her spear, she drove the tip cleanly through the Terran in the gunner’s chair. Gurgling, he fell limply to the rooftop, as she turned toward the other antiaircraft platform.

Turning, she pressed a button on the spear’s haft. The bladed tip snapped free and spun at the end of a chain. She whipped the spear tip toward the first of the guards before he could fire his weapon. The blade punctured his body armor, shattering bone and muscle, as it tore through his back. Lifted from his feet by the impact, he crashed into the barrel of the antiaircraft weapon.

Nova tugged the haft, but the chain and blade were lodged too tightly to the Terran’s body. She danced aside, as the last soldier fired. Bullets sheared flakes of stone from the rooftop near her right foot.

Dropping the spear, her hand moved in a blur. She freed her pistol and fired, the round catching the side of the Terran’s neck. He spun, firing a few more shots reflexively before collapsing onto the stone roof. As he gurgled painfully, blood sprayed weakly from his severed artery, slicking the rooftop with gore.

Reaching to her neck, Nova activated her throat mike. “The rooftop’s clear. We’re ready to proceed with phases three and four.”

Looking down sympathetically at the frightened Terran, she frowned before raising her pistol and shooting him between the eyes.

“That’s a good copy, Nova,” the red-robed figure replied. “Tusque and Eza, you’re both a go for your phase. Ainj is airborne. Yen and I will be there shortly.”

Ainj picked up his sniper rifle and pushed off from the ground. Beating his powerful wings, he gained altitude and flew toward the Terran outpost. As he departed, the red-robed figure and Yen picked up the remaining supplies and ran toward the distant plateau.

At the top of the hill near the wall, the eight-foot, furry Oterian huffed loudly, as he looked over his shoulder. Behind him, a smaller, deeply tanned man stood, absently spinning a curved hand ax through the air. The man’s golden hair was pulled back from his face in a ponytail. On either side of his face, tracing his strong jawline, red and white tattoos swirled across his skin.

“Ready?” Tusque rumbled.

“Always,” Eza Riddell replied, before sprinting beside the Oterian across the red sand toward the towering vehicle entrance doors.

Tusque, who began running shortly before Eza, moved like a locomotive. Though he wasn’t nearly as fast as Eza, his powerful strides built up great momentum, as he charged the outpost. His breath coming in deep huffs, Tusque lowered his head, as he moved toward the metallic alloy door.

When he crashed into it, it resounded like a thunderclap. The vehicle entrance exploded inward, scattering the Terran guards posted inside.

As the first Terran regained his footing, a smaller form tumbled through the destroyed archway. Rolling to his feet, Eza slashed to the side with his curved ax. The blade bit deep into the Terran’s hamstrings, severing both muscles, as red blood mixed with the colored sand. Before the soldier fell, Eza pulled out his pistol and shot the next-closest Terran. The round struck his abdomen, eviscerating him. Clutching intestines that threatened to spill to the ground, he collapsed onto his back.

Eza swung down his ax, splitting the hamstrung Terran’s skull and spilling chunks of gray matter to the ground.

Tusque lifted one of the fallen Terrans in his massive hands, tossing him into a wall. His body crumpled upon impact, and, flopping involuntarily as he fell, he collapsed to the ground. The fourth soldier climbed to his feet and fired, the bullet catching the Oterian’s shoulder.