Jean Preston: Sledgehammer

“Nah, too impressive, too pretty, they’d never send one of these out on their own.”

“Maybe it’s booby-trapped, maybe they want someone to loot it – then they get you or summat.”

“Maybe…” said Alana “We still need to check it out. You have my back?”

“Yes sir.”

They found a suitable position for Robin to build his nest, overlooking the vehicle, surrounded by shrubbery. Alana had one last look through the scope, then crept down, and prowled her way to the road, hunched over, rifle in arm. She would stop occasionally, listening, then continue.

At length she reached the vehicle, and placed a gloved hand on it. It didn’t explode, no alarms went off. She inhaled and then walked around to the rear – to the open hatch, aiming her rifle into the belly of the beast. There was not a soul living nor dying, it was completely abandoned. She entered into the driving seat, sat down, there was still a half tank of fuel and the keys were in the ignition.

She heard a shot fire in the distance.

She immediately got down, under the windows. On reflection, she could tell the sound came from Robin’s neck of the woods. She sighed for a moment, then kicked open the door and ran full-tilt into the cover of the woods.

She ran from tree to tree – she would look down her scope into Robin’s nest, but could not find him. He had disappeared. She got as close as she dared, until she was definitely sure he had gone. Would he have run off without her?

Throwing caution to the wind she made a beeline for the nest, then crouched down. She scanned the horizon, but saw no sign of life. He had probably been spooked by some deer and gone running after it into the woods – this she told herself. She would find his tracks and return him to his place by the scruff of the neck. Tell him to never do something so foolish again.

She walked walked out of his nest, saw something in the grass. There was no blood, no mess, no body, just Robin’s long rifle, snapped in two like a matchstick. Robin was dead. Alana was sure of it. She breathed in slowly, quietly, did a quick sweep around her again, saw nothing, and then walked, slowly, back to the road.

This was no deer, no enemy sniper.

When she was out of sight of the nest she picked up the pace, still silent, constantly scanning the horizon, turning around, looking for something, and not finding it. She reached the road – leapt into the driver’s seat and locked the door.

She locked the back hatch. She twisted the key in the ignition, it struggled for a moment, whinnying, but then purred into action. Alana was in pieces, but then she saw it, and all the blood drained from her face.

It was in the middle of the road. Far too tall, head too big to be human. It was running at her. She stamped on the pedal and the vehicle squealed into movement. The creature picked up speed, running straight for her. It was jet black, with long white hair, its arms were as wide and stretched out before it.

Alana headed straight for it, moving the gearstick up as she did so – until she saw the yellow in its eyes, then swerved out of its path. She passed it – there was a slam, the whole vehicle rocked to its side, nearly tipping, then crashed back down, she lost control, the truck careened to the left, she slammed on the breaks, she hit a tree.

She was dazed – she looked into the rear-view mirror – she saw it, in the distance. A golem. It was walking towards her. She tried the ignition, but it was dead. She gritted her teeth and kicked the door open.

Troopers ran down ratty hallways, paint stripped from the walls, water leaking from the ceiling, the building was a labyrinth, all written signs that remained were in an alphabet they couldn’t understand, they relied on maps and Loma for direction.

“I’m picking something up, something audible.”

“Hold position. Everyone hold position”

They stood for a moment, some guarding their flanks, all looking with concern, shallow breathing. Nothing happened.

“Alright… continue on—”

There was a bump, several rooms away.

“I thought they said this place was fucking deserted?” hissed one of the troopers

“It seemed that way,” said Loma, defeated. “Just – I’m sending a drone to check it out, proceed to the target, don’t make too much noise.”

Controlling one of the drones directly she sent it buzzing down the adjacent corridor where the offending noise occurred – probably just some rubble falling. If it was a local, they’d be more than capable of dealing with it, should it turn hostile.

She wanted the team in and out as fast as possible-no more detours. With a thumb under her chin she watched the drone scan each room. She occasionally glanced back at the progress of the team. They had finally reached the metal staircase, that which lead down to the lower levels of the facility, the only available route to the bunkers since the elevators were inoperable. Two troopers stayed at the top of the stairs, keeping watch.

The lower levels were even starker, bare concrete with the occasional transparent plastic sheeting dividing up the corridors.

“What did the drones find?”

“Nothing,” replied Loma

“Take a look at this,” piped up one of the troopers.

The wall was covered in crude, childish drawings, figures, swirling patterns, animals, strange text that was not known to them, it continued on into the darkness, went up to the ceiling and then onto the other wall. It depicted men, or stick figures rather, thousands of them, some on horseback, some reclining in bed, some were in the sun, a fiery ball. There were many strange symbols, and figures that had no significance to the troopers, but obviously did to the painter, it felt like some old epic drawn by a madman.

“Looks like cave paintings.”

“Someone’s been down here a long time.”

“ Shh , I hear something.”

There was a quiet scratching noise. As if someone were dragging a metal table, far away.

“The fuck is that?” hissed one of the troopers.

Loma slammed on the screen. “Find cover, create a perimeter, hold your position, I’m sending one of the drones to check it out.”

There was no response.

“Do you read me?”

All at once the screens turned white, even the drones.

“Trooper 1, Trooper 2 do you read me?” She demanded. There was no response.

She sat up in her chair panicking slightly. It can’t have been a malfunction, not so many at once. Must have been an EMP or some kind of jamming signal, or a virus or –

Down in the lower levels the troopers were left in total darkness, their helmets’ night-vision had failed, as had their voice-coms, their maps were gone. They took off their helmets and shouted for one another by name, grabbing each other’s shoulders for support. One of them snapped a light-stick – they were bathed in gentle green light.

“The mission’s over.”

“You don’t have the authority do that, only Santiano—”

“Well he’s not here, I don’t care what you guys do, I’m getting the fuck out of here, fuck this.”

“Where the hell did he go?”

They looked about them. He should have been right with them. Trooper Lee had seen him just a minute ago-

“No! Fuck this. I am out of here.”

“You’re just going to leave him ?”

“I can’t see shit , my suit’s broken to shit, fuck this shit!”

“ Everybody shut the fuck up!” They all stood in silence. Faintly, in the distance, they heard the scraping noise. It was getting louder.

“I’m out boys and girls, if you wanna stay here, be my guest.”

“Do you even know the way without your map?”