Chương 11: The Land of Pillars and Lightning

The mantises scurried forward. The giant creature thundered after them.

"Rifles, aim for the—fuck, is that thing a head? Aim for the head!" Nicole shouted.

"Fire!" The crack of gunfire erupted. The creature lit up with sparks as globs of viscous blood spattered off it. Then its mouth began to glow. The problem was, they were all in formation because the mantises were about to hit their line. If they broke, they'd be overrun—and so would all the incapacitated soldiers behind them. Malachi clenched his teeth and braced. There was nothing to be done. The fire beam hit someone to his right. They were dead before they could scream.

Then, the beam lifted up, burning off the arm of the man who'd been next to him. Jason, who had been huddled on the ground behind those two, screamed as his armor turned red hot and he burst into flames. The creature's fire beam ended, and the beast stalked forward. Aside from the jaw on top of it that spat fire, it had two scythe arms that looked like wings when they were held back. Its four legs were all close together and moved in sync. Malachi had to hope the guns were good enough.

The swarm was already close enough that shrapnel from a thrown grenade might hit them, and there was no cover. He braced himself as the mantises leapt straight at the phalanx. Two hours ago, they would have held easily. This time, someone on the line crumpled as soon as a mantis hit them and another dropped a spear. Two soldiers dropped as a mantis got behind the line and slashed open gaping wounds. As soon as the two mantises in front of Malachi were dead, he dropped his spear and pulled out his rifle again.

The giant one waded into the line. Soldiers scattered as it did. A scythe arm came swinging down, and Malachi dove out of the way. He came up and tried to fire, only to remember he'd never reloaded. He swore as he ejected his magazine and stuffed a new one in. Then he unloaded at near point blank range directly up into the creature. It swung again, scything arms cutting right through the torso of another man. Malachi ducked just in time. He felt the breeze of the blades passing over him.

The creature let out a screech as it stumbled, and one of the legs knocked into Malachi, sending him sprawling. He saw the spear of one of the dead soldiers—where his own spear had gone, he didn't know—and grabbed it. With a roar, he charged forward, slamming the tip into the belly of the beast. Muscles straining, he pushed it further. The beast stumbled again, starting to topple as William and another soldier's spears pierced its front legs. Malachi's eyes widened as it began to toppling toward him.

He dove to the side as the heavy creature came slamming down. His breathing was coming in ragged gasps. No one spoke as the team took a collective breath. Malachi looked around. Jason and five others were dead, just like that. He'd barely known Jason. He was just some kid, fresh out of high school, and now— He ground his teeth, trying to force the thoughts out of his head. This was why he needed not to get close to people. Especially now. Better to keep his distance so there wouldn't be pain when they left him.

No one was taking command, Malachi realized. Corporal Booth was still in a daze; that damn severed arm was still next to him. If there were any other corporals, they were from other teams so he didn't recognize them. He looked at their band. The soldiers who had been badly wounded by the mantises had already bled out. He was glad he didn't have to make the call on bringing or leaving the wounded. He did a head-count. Twenty-eight, including himself.

Not even a full team, and they were missing critical support roles. They had no vehicles, no machine guns, no robots or drones, and no medics. Actually, scratch that, they had at least one medic, his white armband was just soaked in dried blood so he hadn't seen it at first.

"Okay, recover all weapons and critical supplies. Dr. Chavez, is it possible the mantises are still attracted to this area because of some sort of residual magic?" Dr. Chavez shared a look with Malachi. Very slightly, he nodded his head. They both knew the real answer was he had no idea, but he knew Malachi was looking for a reason to get them moving.

"It's possible. It would be safer if we moved away."

"Then we need to get a move on. We'll keep a slow pace, but we need to find a more defensible area." Malachi looked around. More lightning crackled above, lighting up the landscape. The nearest mountain with the peak ending in one of the colossal pillars looked to be several miles away. There were other hills, but not all shaped the same. It looked like there was some sort of mesa formation a few miles from that first mountain. There was nothing that resembled a river.

"That way," he said, pointing toward the mesa. It looked defensible.

As they walked, Malachi took stock. Almost everyone still had an assault rifle with a few magazines.

"We need to conserve the bullets for the big ones," he said.

"We can't waste them on the mantises." Nicole had her sniper rifle. Trey had a pistol that was empty. Cameron's pack had four bricks of C4 with remote detonators. He and only one other soldier—Jane, from one of the other teams—were trained in using them, so Malachi had them split the load. Juan and two others still had tower shields, though they were acid-eroded to hell. They had two extra spears. The water and food situation was more dire.

Portal Response Teams fought battles that lasted hours at most, then went right back to base. They didn't carry MREs. A few soldiers had snacks. A few more had canteens. They were empty. Malachi directed them to carry them anyways, in case they did stumble across a source of water. When the lightning crackled again, he saw Dr. Chavez peering at the ceiling. In a low voice, he said, "There does seem to be some sort of… cloud," he said.

"If it does rain, we can use a tarp to funnel it into the canteens. Or even cloth to absorb it and squeeze it into the bottle. It'll be disgusting, but it can keep us alive." Malachi grunted in acknowledgment. They trudged on, armor clanking. Nicole seemed to have the best endurance of the group, so she kept going to high points of jutting rock and keeping an eye out.

"Mantises passing to our 5 o'clock," she said at one point. Later, she said, "Another group to our 3 o'clock, but they won't pass near us."

"How many?" Malachi made the mistake of asking.

"About two hundred," she said. He looked at the exhausted soldiers. They needed to rest. But we need a safe position.

"Keep going." As Malachi was checking the column, he overheard Trey talking.

"Wish I'd texted my mom," he was saying quietly.

"She always worries when I don't call. I think I'd tell her I was alright. It ain't true, but she'd like to hear it one more time." Juan nodded.

"They'll be waiting for us," he said, and Malachi saw that he'd brought a necklace out from under his breastplate. A golden cross. In heaven, neither said, but Malachi could hear the words. Forever and ever, he thought, and that ache inside him reopened, so suddenly it was like a punch to the gut. He saw Malia's face. Saw her empty room. Remembered holding that stupid stuffed animal she'd kept all those years.

"Another group, coming up from behind. They'll be on us soon," Nicole called, and Malachi was almost glad because at least it would break him out of those thoughts, the ones he'd tried to bury. Around them, the terrain of jagged mounds conspired to pin them into a corridor.

"Best spot to make a stand is a hill in front of us."

"How many?"

"About a dozen. Two of the zillas."

"Zillas?"

"The big ones. They shoot mouth lasers, like godzilla." Malachi looked around.

"Alright, they're called zillas now. Fuck. Alright, who has the best arm here? Cameron and Jane, each of you will be in charge of blowing up one of the zillas. Cameron, left, Jane, right. We'll position on a hill, and someone who has a good arm can throw it." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Juan raised his hand.

"I played outfield."

"Juan, coordinate with Cameron." He looked at the column, which was now staring at him. Mostly. Booth and two others were looking at the ground. Everyone looked half-dead.

"I can make a sling," Trey said.

"Was pretty good at hitting raccoons as a kid. Just, never done it with a brick of C4 before."

"Great. You're with Jane. Start updating that resume of yours," Malachi said.

"Nicole?"

"Best hill is that way. But we need to hurry." Malachi took a deep breath.

"Okay, double time. Nicole, see if you can soften our targets. Rifles, wait to fire until after the C4 goes off. If the zillas aren't dead, fire until they are. We'll take out the zillas first, then stow rifles and form the spear wall. Let's go, let's go!" They hustled toward a pile of dark stone that could almost be called a hill. Someone was helping Booth climb up—he'd finally snapped out of it enough to act, thank god—while another was helping another soldier who was struggling. We need a rest.

No one's going to be able to hold much longer, he thought grimly. As he made it to the hill, he heard Nicole's rifle crack out, the sound echoing across the hills.

"Hurry!" someone said. Malachi saw another man struggling on the rocks. He stepped down and offered his hand. The man's arms and legs were trembling. He was having trouble standing.

"Get to the back of the line. Rest up. Okay, throwers get ready." Trey placed the chunk of C4 into his sling, made of a strip of cloth suspended by two strands of rope. It was some real boy-scout shit, but he'd already practiced a few times with a rock and the rock had flown true enough. The APC driver swallowed hard, then began to twirl. CRACK! Nicole's rifle fired again, and there was a splash of ichor as one of the zillas was hit. The sharp feet of the mantises clacked against the rocks.

"Rifles, aim…" Malachi said. Juan let loose with a tremendous throw, and a moment later, Cameron hit the detonator. There was a BOOM! as the explosives went off, and the top piece of the zilla cracked open like an egg, spilling out sparks and globs of fluid while the rest of it collapsed to the ground. Several of the mantises near it went down. Trey's block went sailing a moment after, but as it did, the second zilla let out its beam of fire.

"Brace—!" Malachi tried to shout, but it happened too fast. The C4 had made it a few meters out—if it hadn't, they'd all be dead—but the fire beam had detonated it, and the edge of the shockwave hit them. Malachi's ears started ringing and the world went silent. He'd been knocked on his ass. He looked over. Two soldiers were dead, bodies blackened and heads still smoldering, just like that. He felt the rumble of gunfire and scrambled to raise his own rifle.

He fired, aiming for the center mass of the creature, then reloaded and emptied another magazine. The second zilla toppled, its strange viscous white blood spilling onto the ground, sparking.

"Spears up!" he shouted, and his own voice sounded distant.

"Spears! Spears!" he called again. Several other soldiers were down, though whether they were dead or just stunned he didn't know. The mantises hit them a moment later. Malachi found one twitching on the end of his spear without even remembering he'd stabbed it. He withdrew it and slashed at another with the tip, cutting off a blade-arm that was battering Juan's shield. It was a messy fight, but it only lasted moments. Malachi looked around, trying to assess damage.

Aside from the two burnt corpses, there were five more down. He started checking pulses and shouting for their last medic, then realized he had his fingers on the neck of that medic, and that the medic was bleeding from all over. Malachi scrambled for the bandages in the man's pack and started trying to wrap him up. A minute later though, the man had gone still and pale, and he had no pulse. He looked around again, still not thinking straight. Where's Trey? he thought.

He was over by that burnt body that's holding the sling… Then the realization hit him like the blast wave had. Fuck. Nicole started shaking him.

"What?" he shouted. She shouted something at him, but he still couldn't hear properly. He watched her mouth to try and understand what she was saying. He realized it was, "We have to move! Another group!" Malachi spun and saw them. Hundreds of them. They had just crested one of the other hills and were moving right at them. They were maybe a mile off. He started stumbling down the hill, then started jogging.

"There's a crevasse at the base of the mesa. We might be able to hold them there!" Then they were jogging in a rough approximation of a column, winding through the mounds and hills, strange rock crunching beneath their greaves. One of the soldiers from another team suddenly collapsed from exhaustion. Malachi hesitated, just for a moment.

"Give them hell, but save a bullet," he told the man. The man looked at him. He was a stranger, just another soldier from one of the other response teams. His face was covered in grit, dried mantis blood, and now, streaked with something, either sweat or tears. He looked grim; he looked crestfallen.

"Tell them I died for him. It was—" He gasped for breath.

"For him," the man said.

"I will," Malachi promised, even though he didn't know what the man was talking about, then kept moving. As he turned away, he felt a burst of self-hatred. He'd hated himself a lot during his life, but not like this. You're not strong enough, he knew. He should have pushed himself harder in the gym. Should have gone that extra distance on the treadmill. Spent more time training with his spear. Now, he was abandoning people. Just like they abandoned you.

Shut up, he told that internal voice, the stupid one that was always trying to tear him apart. He jogged, metal plate clanking. There was an acrid smell in the air. This whole world, whatever the hell it was, stank, and it was only layered by the sweat of nineteen soldiers. When another fell, breath ragged, he mentally counted eighteen. When he turned though, there wasn't even time to offer solace. The swarm behind him was closing fast.

"Faster!" he said to the column in front of him. The mesa was just ahead, rising up in front of them like a castle, like a promise of salvation. Then Malachi's eyes widened as he saw the other group of mantises, moving in from their right.

"Contact, right!" he shouted, and broke into a full run. William was stumbling forward, a mantis scrambling over the rocks. He doesn't see it. Fuck, he doesn't see it! Malachi passed two of the soldiers, bringing his spear up in an overhand grip. As the mantis raised a bladed claw, Malachi leapt, bringing his right arm down as he landed so his full weight was in the strike. The mantis fell dead, skewered down the center. The blade had come inches from William's neck.

"Fighting retreat! Fighting retreat!" he shouted, and then it was bedlam. He levered the dead mantis off his spear with his boot, then did his best to cover their flank. When Malachi had learned he'd be using a spear, he'd looked up all sorts of videos where medieval combat nerds explained how to use spears. When he'd practiced alone, he'd practiced those techniques. They didn't have a phalanx, so it was those techniques he used now.

Malachi brought up the haft to block a downward blow, then kicked a mantis square on and brought his spear around in an arc, slashing through its left blade-arm and face. He kept moving. Another soldier died, cut down by three blades at once. The running battle became a blur. He didn't think, he just moved, cutting, running, stabbing, ducking—he heard shouting and screams, then more gunfire. And then they were there.

Nicole was leading them up the steep slope of the crevasse, just as the larger group of mantises was catching up.

"Grenades!" Malachi shouted as he scrambled up the slope backward, spear whirling as he cut at the limbs of any mantis trying to come after him. He heard the cling ting of metal pins tinkling down the rocks, and then explosions ripped through the mantis horde bearing down on them. One of the grenades detonated too close, and Malachi felt the hot sharp pain of shrapnel cutting across his face. Another piece had dented his breastplate.

His ears were ringing again, and all he could hear was that high pitched whine and the rush of blood in his ears. He stumbled backward, feeling someone helping lift him up and he kept chopping at the swarms of bladed limbs reaching for him. The mantises were bunching up as they tried to squeeze into the narrow opening.

"Again!" he shouted, and turned so he could see the dirt and rocks he was trying to scramble up. He pulled himself up, joining the hastily assembled line. Another grenade detonated, blowing apart a dozen mantises. Juan planted his swiss-cheese shield in the middle of the formation, and another of the shields planted his near the flanks. The third shield was gone; Malachi didn't know when he'd fallen. They had seconds to plant their spears, and then the horde was upon them. Malachi lost all sense of time.

It was like when they'd been fighting in the building, it was just endless stabbing. Whenever a mantis fell, there was another behind it. Juan was doing his best to topple over the center of the swarm as it piled up, sending the bugs tumbling down the steep slope, but he was getting tired. They were all past the point of exhaustion; all that fueled them now was desperation. Another grenade detonated somewhere down below. More stabbing. Then more.

A soldier was ripped out of the line by stabbing arms, then another fell, first collapsing and then getting his head cut apart like a melon covered in a tin can.

"The C4, Cameron!" Malachi called.

"It's the only one we have left!" came Cameron's shout. The line's about to fail.

"We don't have a choice!" He watched as the last glob of plastic explosive arced over them. Then the ground shook as the explosion blasted apart the center of the mantises. Several boulders fell down as the lower part of the slope they were on collapsed in a shower of dust and debris. Then, they stood there. Below, mantis claws scrabbled at the rock, but they couldn't seem to make purchase on the sheer stone. The dirt spilling down the crevasse made a ramp up to the top of the mesa.

The group trudged up the rest of the slope, then one by one, they collapsed onto the stone. Above, the sky continued to crackle with periodic lightning.