Fate weaver’s convergence

 

“Workhorse, be advised, we have six KIA, eight WIA! I say again, six KIA, eight WIA! Casualty report to follow!”

 

The LT yelled something to my side, while I was too wounded to be of much help communication-wise. Rather than fumble on the radio, I kept our troops organized. Castellanos regrouped with us under cover of the fifty-cals moving into the town as they provided covering fire. Danovitch, Marcum, Jauregui, McCullum, as well as two guys from first squad, were all dead, slumped against the wall where we dragged them; three from being mauled, and one from being shot by the cultists. The saw was still opening up on the position that Rawlins was shot from, though it may as well have been abandoned with how many bullet holes now riddled the wooden house. Rawlins was dazed, while Lucas patted down the kid's chest and sides to ensure no shrapnel had wounded him where we couldn't see it. I stumbled down the line, the bandages and quick clot wrapped around my leg, doing little to stem the bleeding as they flapped in the wind. My body seemed to have that part taken care of, and for some reason, my own natural coagulants nearly sealed my wound. It would have to be opened later; however, the leg of my trousers nearly glued to it. 

 

“Dragon one, this is Red Elk six, I need guns on yellow smoke! I say again! I need guns on yellow smoke! Grid coordinates six - fife - zee-ro -tree–”

 

Laura and Castillanos were covered in bile and random bits of meat, possibly from the mutants. Castillanos was slowly loading another massive shell into the Carl Gustav, hinting at why exactly the two were covered in so much gore to begin with. 

 

He finally got to use the damned thing, maybe now he’ll stop looking so damn surly all the time.

 

I looked further up the line, the LT clutching his left arm as one of his guys tightened a tourniquet. He was still yelling into the handset, the radio operator holding it, and the marked map of grid coordinates for the LT to recite. 

 

“--How copy, Dragon one?”

 

“That’s a good copy, Elk six, Dragon one, two, and three closing on your pos. Guns and thousand-pounders ready to send these bastards to hell. You’ve got one minute, Red elk, and we’re dropping the load regardless of danger-close or not! How copy, over?”

 

“That's a good copy! On my mark, yellow smoke, happy hunting Dragon one!”

 

The LT dropped the handset, snatching his rifle with his now free hand as the other dangled. 

 

“Doc’s already got the trucks moving Aidan, take these three–”

 

LT motioned to the three troops behind him, each refusing to lower their rifles.

 

“And you get those bodies to the trucks the moment they roll up! We need to fuckin leave, now!”

 

His breathing was ragged, and his brow was split to the point that his eye was swelling over. 

 

“They sent us into a fuckin shit show.”

 

“Aye, sir, moving.”

 

I ignored the LT's drop in face, looking near hopeless as he surely blamed himself for the engagement. 

 

“You three–”

 

I took the troops that were able, the trucks rolling up mere moments later with the sound of fifty cal fire becoming its fiercest. The guns roared, stopping intermittently as the operators struggled with misfires and malfunctions but cleared them all the same. I raised the sloped back of one of the humvees, Doc hopping out as soon as I did. 

 

“Over here!”

 

He struggled to make himself known as he yelled in time with the machine guns.

 

“In the back, toss the dead in the back!”

 

No need to be gentle with the dead.

 

We all struggled to get everyone into position, the bodies of our fallen being tossed haphazardly into the trucks as we attempted to exfil. I yanked a door open after the last body was dropped, Lucas hobbling over with Rawlins before depositing the kid in the back seat.

 

“Sarge, you need to–”

 

“Piss off with that shit, get in the truck! I need to get the sir!”

 

I hobbled away, leaving Lucas no doubt stupified at my suicidal tendencies, random glances of returned gunfire pecking at the asphalt and concrete I’d just walked over.

 

“Sir!”

 

I hobbled next to the LT who’d become slightly more out of it, stumbling as the radio operator tried to help him to his feet.

 

“Aidan? Why the hell are you covered in blood? Thought they got your damn leg.”

 

He muttered, nearly falling into me and knocking us both over. 

 

“Give me some help here.”

 

The radio operator joined me, lifting the LT and placing him into the back seat opposite of Rawlins as Lucas climbed up to a suddenly unmanned fifty-cal. 

 

Shit.

 

The gunner was dead, some other young buck that arrived with Rawlins, sunk onto his back whilst his jaw was nearly torn off. 

 

“Get back to your truck!”

 

I yelled at the operator, opening the side door to climb into my old seat.

 

Fuck, okay, follow through on the sir, he’s out of it– they were last relaying orders to Dragon one.

 

I pulled down the handset dangling from the side of the radio.

 

“This is Staff Sergeant Catan, I want a head count, tracking all KIA rounded up. Who's still breathing?”

 

A chorus of names rang out of the net, in varying states of liveliness. 

 

“Workhorse be advised, all pacs loaded up and returning to base. Dragon is coming behind us for a run! We found a seedbed for mutagen and the cult, make sure you level this place even when Dragon’s done. How copy?”

 

“God in heaven–”

 

Muffled static.

 

“Elk-seven, that is a good copy, exfil time now and rp to base.”

 

“Roger that Workhorse, rp time now.”

 

I was out of breath nearly, taking a moment as I pulled my rifle up to shove its barrel through the opened window of the truck. The engines of the trucks roared again as we began pushing south through the town and back to the burm. The lead truck was beginning to pick up speed before a blur shot out from another alleyway.

 

“Ravager!”

 

Lucas yelled, swiveling the machine gun around. The Ravager slammed into the side of the truck, nearly crumpling the door enough to make us wonder if we’d be doubling up in each truck we’d still had. The door was yanked open just before Lucas could bring the gun to bare. Some other poor fool, pulled out by his leg before having his chest caved in under the monster's foot whilst it reached for the poor gunner.

 

“No the fuck you dont! Hejkal!”

 

The fifty-cal opened up just in time to save the lead truck's gunner, the hail of bullets sending the ravager spinning as the impact nearly tore whole limbs free. The gunner turned their own fifty-call, opening up as well, turning the monster into a veritable pile of mush as the bullets eventually turned it into a writhing pulp. 

 

Rooooo–

 

Greeuuuuh-

 

The rumbling from earlier returned, this time with the raspy, low growls of something we’d never hoped to see without at least Dragon already on top of us. I grabbed the handset again.

 

“Truck one, can you move!”

 

The truck responded not with radio, but by rolling forward once more. The frame was damaged, but it was still able to atleast get out of here. It stopped for the saw team that waited outside of town, the two nearly leaping into the back seat and the already torn open door.

 

Rooo-

 

Shit! Fuck, God damnit! 

 

“All trucks, exfil time now! Drive, drive, drive!”

 

I looked through my mirror as the rumbling grew, the feeling of the ground shuddering even through the truck's suspension. And that's when it woke up.

 

Rooooaaaah- thoom!!!

 

Screaaaagh- scraaaaagh!!!

 

A sun grinder the size of a bus broke free from the earth, a horrid amalgamation of flesh, bone, feathered wings, and hooked tentacles rose from the ground. Bile spewed from its many limbs, the reddish-black icor of its fuel seeping from its skin and feathers before slowly igniting. It proceeded to scream, some awful mix of human wailing and bestial moans as if from a wounded bird. 

 

“Dragon, this is Elk-seven, be advised, target is a sungrinder, I say again, target is a sungrinder! Watch your thermals, forget the smoke!”

 

It was one fire now, a series of unnaturally bright white eyes turning to eye us as they opened. 

 

“Eat this, and digest in hell!”

 

Castillanos screamed over the net, the reflection of Gustav's muzzle flash occupying the mirror for a split second. A moment later, he was screaming again as the puff of smoke from the impact was immediately cleared. The sungrinder was unfazed, swinging one of its many arms out as it attempted to strike back at our trailing vehicle, narrowly missing it.

 

“Castillanos, get the fuck back down-”

 

“We aren't late to the party, are we?”

 

A voice blared across the net, followed by the ear-shattering–

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

The telltale growl of the A-10’s thirty-millimeter cannon thundered across the sky, the whine of turbine engines passing overhead like some god-sent, furious bird. The sungrinder recoiled, the white hot rounds slapping against its exterior, sending molten blood spilling to the ground. 

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

Once more, Dragon two taking their pass overhead just as the sungrinder swung a wing upward. It was close, nicking Dragon twos wing.

 

“Code five, I’m hit– shit, still got controls, taking a wider angle for follow up gun run and bombs.”

 

We listened to Dragon coordinate over the net, watching the gun run and the sungrinder’s eventual demise through our mirrors or reversed cameras that a few troops pulled on their phones as our drivers accelerated away as fast as we could manage.

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

A strafe from Dragon three.

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

Another strafe from Dragon one.

 

“Bombs, bombs, bombs, Elk-seven, feel that shock wave.”

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

The sungrinder flickered, its flames extinguishing as its hearts failed to keep up the flow of now lost icor. A sudden series of objects fell around it, bombs, at least a dozen.

 

“Hold onto your seats, Elk-seven!”

THOOM

 

An explosion more deafening than the passes from the cannons themselves. The shockwave was enough to make me feel like I’d been slapped in the face, even through the adrenaline.

 

“Look at that calamari cook, baby, yeah!”

 

“Good hit, Dragon two. Going in for another few passes for good measure. We need to sterilize this place.”

 

“Copy Dragon one, looks like I get to mark one of those kills on my baby two, huh?”

 

“Haha, good copy, we’ll mark that plane for ya. No longer shiny and new with that little nick she took. Be sure to send us some beers up at  Dusseldorf the minute you get the chance.”

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

“Dragon three, red on ammo, passing one last time to make it black, then we can head back.”

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

BRRRRRRRRT– vnnnnnnnn

 

Two final passes and the radio came to life again.

 

“Elk-seven, this is Dragon one. That was one hell of a close call, glad we could be there to help. You all stay safe, lima-charlie?”

 

I grabbed the handset, my voice nearly cracking along with my dry throat.

 

“Lima-”

 

I released the handset and then clicked it once more.

 

“Lima-charlie Dragon one, thanks for the save.”

 

“Just another day's work, Dragon one, out.”

 

“Dragon two, out.”

 

“Dragon three, out.”

 

I took a moment, reality setting in as the adrenaline slowly dissipated.

 

“Sarge.”

 

Who- wha?

 

It was Lucas, kneeling over the dead gunner as he nudged my shoulder.

 

“Time to call in Workhorse?”

 

Ah, yeah, just–

 

I reached back for the nozzle of my camelback, drinking from it instead of my now empty canteen, a bullet having drained it.

 

“Fuck–”

 

I sputtered, blood and bile falling from my mouth after I forced down a swallow.

 

Fuck, that pool of shit– It got in–

 

I couldn't think straight, leaning back into the seat to squeeze out clean water before drinking once more. I gasped for air afterward, savoring the rot-free air passing down my now-hydrated throat. 

 

“Workhorse–”

 

I clicked the handset again. 

 

“Workhorse, this is Red Elk, sp time now to basecamp. Seedbed neutralized, we have wounded, how copy, over?”

 

Static.

 

“Thats a good copy, Elk-seven. Come on home.”