The First Night's March

THE FIRST NIGHT'S MARCH
A hand reached out in the darkness of the alley, groping for a means to pull itself out from the wreckage. The narrow passage that was laid between the two buildings was now twice the size it had been; the walls of one building, blown out by an explosion. Grabbing hold of a heating duct that was bolted to one of the last standing walls, a dark figure clad in armor drew itself out of the rubble, and began patting itself, checking for any injuries. Inside the metal plated machine, was a man, ecstatic to find himself alive and uninjured. A thought struck him suddenly, his excitement dissipating quickly.

“Louis! LOUIS!” he screamed, the sound of his voice echoing in his ear piece as he listened for a reply.

Amarel knelt down in a sudden panic, scraping up the clusters of brick and iron rods, searching franticly for his friend. From the pile he had gotten out of he crawled on his hands and knees to the debris that lay net to the wall. As he moved closer the brick dust turned darker shades, his gloved hands touching something wet on the ground. For a moment he stared in awe at the crimson color that ran down his fingertip. Blood, but not just blood, no this was slightly different; this blood had radiance to it. Slipping his glove off his finger he placed his hand down in the pool before him, quickly pulling away, his fingers freezing cold and starting to frost.

“Damn tank must be leaking,” he said replacing his glove. The same liquid that was supposed to protect them from their enemies was the same dangerous agent that killed them so easily if they came in direct contact with it.

Inching forward he came to a mound of debris, and half aware of what he might find he began to dig again. Lying under a slab of concrete that seemed to be a part of a support beam was Louis; his helmet crushed his ventilation mask forced back into the face, blood trickling out of the spout. The force of the explosion had tossed his body through the building smashing it against the back alley wall with a devastating impact. Amarel backed away in terror, touching his own mask, instinctively looking for damages, and trying to reassure himself that this was all happening. Only minutes ago had they been inside, throwing crass jokes back and forth as they had made their way around the abandoned warehouse. Gathering his strength he stood again, and began to assess his next plan of action. A Valgaren grunt, the lowest title in the ranks of the soldiers, he had only been in the Core for three months. He still didn’t know all the ropes, and certainly wasn’t ready for the creature that they uncovered inside, a dark figure curled up like a snake its mouth clamped around a methane tank, as it inhale the contents. Shaking his head in disbelief, he tried to clear his mind of the image, the elongated jaws, curled black lips that dripped like oil through its teeth, and the blue flicker of light that shone in its eyes before he woke up outside, buried under two feet of stone and splintered wood.

Amarel touched the radio signal on the side of his helmet, activating the SOS response to Re-base. An operator’s voice sounded in his ears, a dull voice with an electronic echo. That had always spooked him out.
“Your still suit’s beacon has been activated, what assistance do you seek?”

“I need to know the recon position for the seventh battalion.” he shouted into the mic in his face mask.

The dust in the alley began to pick up, swirl from one direction to the other, a humming sound reverberating between the remnant walls.

“Seventh Battalion director has relocated 64 percent of its remaining forces to the main breach wall in the north west part of the upper city. The reserve 36 percent has been sent to the sight of an explosion in…well they should be right above you now.”

The hum had become a pulsating beat and the alleyway was flooded with light, a looming presence of an iron bird hovering 150 feet above Amarel’s head. It was then as he looked down and away from the lights above, that he began to notice the circles, pastel colored, brightly lit eyes that bobbed in the darkness. Emerging from the shadows, black armored figures wearing garments that matched his, stepped out into the light. Two of them addressed him asking his name and rank, and the status of the situation at hand, but he could give no reply. He could only stare as three other Garen worked there way through the bricks and metal to recover the body of Louis, his ragged body being carefully lifted from his spot on the wall, the face still dented inwards. Amarel doubted if he would be able to recognize him. A calm voice sounded over his two way, a voice that drew his attention back to the present.
“Unfortunately, we are at war and as with any war, there have to be casualties on both sides.” Commander Leer spoke softly as he looked at him through his thick crimson lenses. “That image will never leave you so you might as well dwell on it another day…preferably when we aren’t still fighting.”
Amarel nodded slightly and took one last glance at his comrade as they activated Louis’s suit’s hibernation system. The arms and legs became rigid, at attention, locking in place. The spouts and tubes that brought in air sealed off, the lenses covered themselves with lids, and the chest plates extended to the side wrapping around to encompass the arms and back. At least his body would be preserved until they returned to Re-base. With a sullen attitude, much similar to a sinking feeling, Amarel watched as the yellow eyed Garen carried the metallic casket to the open door of the drop ship, standing it next to a row of other faceless KIAs. Three years let alone three months never could have prepared him for the experiences he would face the rest of that long night.
*********
“Just a kid,” the old one thought silently to himself peering through the dark red lenses at the boy who sat on the other bench, ”eighteen and already trying to be a veteran. He has no idea that most of us aren’t expected to come home at all, let alone return as war heroes.” Glancing away he shifted his gaze to look at the cigar he’d been skillfully twirling in his fingers. A pause, he caught it perfectly between his forefinger and thumb. Sighing he looked back towards the ranks of men that sat alongside him, all together cramped into the ship’s small cabin, a silence hanging between them that screamed out there anxieties. Reaching under his breast plate and into the jacket underneath, Leer grasped eight large, paper wrapped cigars, and pulled them out.
“Take one and pass it on guys,” he said shattering the quiet “and as you pass them on to the man sitting next to you, pass on a little of your luck, cause god knows we’ll need it tonight.”
*********
A resounding thud of metal on rock echoed throughout the cabin’s interior, followed by the clanking and soft bangs of boots marching down the gangway as the Garen left the protection of the craft, plundering into the dark abyss of the night. His hand clutching the door frame, Amarel peered out into the unknown, hesitant to follow the others outside. His breath became short as his mind raced, jumping from one thought of ‘what if’, to the next.
“Damn it!” he muttered to himself. He hated himself for feeling so childish, cowering behind a door post, away from the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Something grabbed him and spun him around quickly; the dark eyed Garen peered at him and thrust an automatic rifle towards his open hands.
He spoke, the tone of his voice unwavering and direct, “We’re all scared shitless, kid. It’s what fuels us, and what’ll get you through the rest of tonight.” Slinging his own weapon over his shoulder, he pocketed a small ornamental dagger inside a sheath on his hip, and trudged out into open battle.
For a few more moments Amarel sat with those words lingering in the air. He needed to get through this battle; he needed to get through the next few hours until dawn. Death in this deserted city had now changed from an imminent possibility, to a simple choice of will. Flashes and gunfire lit up the dismal night that awaited him, and he walked out into the dark, confident in his decision.

Plunging into a vague scene outside the drop-ship, Amarel glanced quickly all around himself, his eyes panning across the area. His senses were overwhelmed, the sounds of shells whistling above him before bursting into bright flashes of light, accompanied by the drum like repetition of machine guns firing. His nose was engulfed with the smell of gunpowder, and the aroma of fire as it devoured nearby buildings. Desperately he tried to see where he was headed, as the lights of battle threw off his balance like large strobe lights. A hand rested on his shoulder, to let him know that someone else was near him. He turned to see a pair of light green lenses, as the person inside the suit snickered.
“I’m glad you finally decided to step outside. Me an’ the others were starting to take bets on whether or not you were going to poke your head out from your hole in the ground – to your left!” he shouted letting out a burst of gunfire above Amarel’s head.
Amarel couldn’t respond. He just stared blankly at the thick fragments of bone that had fallen into the dirt next to him, picking them up, staring, as he held them in his hands, those pieces of skull that were shattered by Green Eyes shots. Up until that moment he had never seen the enemy without its cloak of mystery. Rumors had run through his barracks during training but none of them ever had any truth to support it, just an inkling of fear that seemed to run down your spine. He felt the fear, as he gazed into the reflective lining that coated the inside of the skull, the look of oil on water, like an oyster shell.

*********
He couldn’t help but watch; staring through the thick green lenses at the figure behind him, the boy kneeling in the sand as he flipped the rounded bone fragments over in his hand, his breath becoming short as fear crept into his eyes, accompanied by the realization of what he was holding. Garamen laughed to him self as he recognized the same face that had crawled across his own face not too many years ago.
“Everyone’s scared their first time,” he snickered.

*********
A hand rapping on his helmet jolted Amarel’s attention away from the skull which slipped from his fingers, dropping to the sand as Amarel focused on the hand signals that Green Eyes was giving him. Searching his mind, he tried feverishly to interpret the swift motions with the training he received, but he didn’t understand all of them. Without waiting for any response, Green Eyes dashed into a forward position, a few yards away. Amarel slowly pulled himself out of his refuge long enough to gaze over the rocks at the scene that lay in front of him. Lifting himself up he crouched low enough for him to run to a battered truck that had been over turned in the mayhem. He watched carefully as Green Eyes began his next move towards a pile of rubble that had been blown off a neighboring building. Rifle in his hands, pressed close to his belly, he started to dash, his hunched position creating an awkward silhouette against the flashes of gunfire. Amarel heard a fluttering sound as something passed overhead. His grip tightened on the rifle handle, his forefinger hovering above the trigger. He fear told him something was out there, but it was something that his senses weren’t picking up. Peering deep into the night sky above him, he tried to see past the darkness to unmask what lay behind it, but no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he couldn’t see anything but black. A voice spoke softly over the radio.

“The only way you can see them is to notice when the starlight fades momentarily as they pass over, if you can catch it in that brief second, then you can track their movement. Don’t hesitate to shoot if you see one.” Deep red eyes appeared in the looming darkness next to Amarel. Commander Leer gazed back casually. “I hoped to run into you,” he said a smile drifting on the tone of his voice.

“Where’s the rest of patrol?” Amarel asked. He loosened his grip on his gun easing his aim to the ground beside him.
“We’ve all been split up, the creatures diverting us one by one away from each other, and then closing in fast. Just like your friend.” He said pointing out to the mound of debris that was now consumed by a cloud of black smog that seemed to swim freely around the area. Amarel couldn’t hold in his shock. His jaw dropped and he began to stammer a string of senseless words, which just echoed inside his mask.

Leer took him by the shoulders and tried to snap him out of it. “Hey,” he said “I need you to stay put; otherwise this could all be for a lost cause. Do you understand me soldier?”

Amarel nodded almost incoherently, flashbacks of Louis painted across the brick wall in that alley began playing into reality. Leer stood up shaking the boy’s hand, before turning and walking into the darkness. As he made his exit, he paused, and then striding over to the left side of the alley’s entrance, he came face to face with a decision. Parked there was a fork lift, top heavy with a palette loaded with planks of lumber. Firing off a couple of rounds, one side of the riddled palette collapsed under the weight, spilling its contents across the narrow entrance.
“Sorry kid this is the most I can do for you,” he said to himself, glancing at the makeshift barricade, wishing he could do more to protect him.

Amarel caught his breath, his senses coming back into focus, even sharper, and the air in the hollow alley continued drifting out towards the frontlines. Once or twice he could’ve sworn that the buildings themselves were breathing, their great gusts of hot air pushing him back into the outside. His ears now turned their attention to the distant gunfire, which had now become a softer popping noise, and heavy clanging outside the alleyway. A heavy lump sank into his gut, fearing the worst and that he was now alone. He cursed himself silently for having such childish fears; for not being the soldier he was supposed to be, but this was much more, for now he had a reason to fear the darkness. Slowly, he let his gun slide down to his side as he slumped against the wall, his knee guards digging into the dirt. In his isolation, he let his thoughts drift to better places, ones filled with the people he longed to see again.

A loud crack startled him awake. Amarel peered around himself uneasily, unaware of how long he had been asleep. With a slight hesitation, he finally regained the feeling in his legs and stood up to investigate. Stepping out into the outside, finger poised above the trigger, Amarel pushed back planks that had fallen blocking the entrance. Making his way into the open plaza, he looked around, as a new light began to empty into the city, a daylight that brought the tiniest sliver of hope to his eyes. And with that new hope, came a low reverberating hum that shook the dust free from the buildings and made the pebbles on the ground dance excitedly. Approaching above the skyline was the silhouette of the iron bird, bringing with it the crimson dawn of the new day. Amarel waved excitedly to the soldiers who were sliding open the heavy door, although he knew that night would also come back for him. For the moment though, he would enjoy the fleeting absence of his fears, and enjoy the daylight as he had never done in the past.