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A Fighting Chance

1:16 pm, 18 September 2014

Mason reached the entrance to the tunnel, and was beckoned in by a woman with jet-black hair. “Come on,” she hollered, “this way!” Mason followed the woman through a short series of dirt tunnels, until they reached a wide opening. His mother and the others were waiting for Mason, obvious by their looks.

“Mason, you, Marie, and Steve take that tunnel over there,” Mason's mother said, pointing to a tunnel to her right. “Me and the others will go down to the lab to get the hard-drives and files, and meet you there.” Mason's mother turned and started for the other tunnel, but Mason stopped her.

“Mom, where exactly are we going?”

Without turning around, his mother answered “We're all going to the B-site, but we'll all meet up at the first checkpoint. Marie and Steve know where it is.” Mutters of agreement came from behind Mason, and he turned to follow them. “I'll take the point, seeing as I have the rifle,” Mason said. He started into the tunnel as he heard his mother, in the other tunnel, giving orders to the ones that followed her.

~

1:45 pm, 18 September 2014

Mason, Steve, and Marie had been jogging through the series of tunnels for about a half-hour, when Marie stopped them. “We should slow down now, I'm not sure what's out there.”

Mason stopped, and turned to face the woman with jet-black hair. “What?”

“Well, I don't know who is up there,” she pointed ahead, where the tunnel visibly started on an incline.

“Okay, I'll go up there, take a look around, and call down if it's clear.”

Mason scouted the opening to the top, and didn't see anyone. When all three had surfaced, Marie looked back, presumably, to where the underground complex would have been. Fire ripped through the trees a good mile and a half away, with explosions going off every few seconds so large that they could clearly be seen. “We should go. They'll start to increase the bombing radius to get fleeing people like us.”

Steve talked for the first time, with a thick French accent. “How do you know this?”

“Parce que,” Mason responded in the man's native tongue, “J'ai été le plastiqueur.“

The man, stunned by both the answer and the language it was spoken in, followed in silence as Marie and Mason ran off.

~

2:30 pm, 18 September 2014

45 minutes of running through the dense forest brought them near a run-down shack.

“Look,” Marie said, “there it is!” She broke off and ran faster up to the shack. Mason's heart skipped a beat. His head began to spin, and his face began to sweat.

“No! Stay back,” he screamed, realizing the inevitable conclusion. The door to the shack burst open, splinters flying, and two gleaming-white soldiers rushed out of the house. Seconds later, two blue streaks slipped through Marie's chest, sending her tumbling head-over-heels into a near-by tree. Mason returned fire, and without even thinking, pushed Steve into cover behind a large tree.

Two of Mason's shots hit the first soldier, as the second fled back inside the shack. Moments later, he returned with two more white soldiers. As blue zipped through his peripheral vision, Mason had an uneasy feeling. Of the ten more shots he'd made, three of them missed because his shoulder wasn't high enough, and each shot fired intensified the pain shooting through his arm.

A blue jet hit the tree Steve was behind, making a hissing noise at it bore through the damp wood. Surprisingly, Steve got up and returned fire of his own, small yellow lines coming from a pistol he produced. Mason took two more soldiers down, leaving one left. He was a hair away from pulling the trigger when a blue streak came too close. It caught his thigh, knocking Mason off his feet. Steve moved out from his cover, and with a well-placed shot, brought down the remaining soldier.

“What the hell'd you shoot,” Mason asked rather impressed.

“It's my own design, actually,” said Steve with a little too much pride. “I've been designing weapons for the average refugee to use. I'd never actually tested this out before, but I guess it works. I have some anti-septic spray on me if you want me to sterilize that hole.”

Mason gasped. “No, go to Marie and see if you can save her.” Mason couldn't see it, but Steve could: There was a gaping hole where Marie's heart was supposed to be. Eerily, there was no blood, just bubbling of skin and the light smoking rising from her shirt and jacket. “Mason, I don't think she's...” He trailed off, hoping Mason would get the picture.

“I understand. Still, get her into the shack.” Steve offered his hand, but Mason refused it. He stood up on his own, using his rifle as a crutch.

Steve somberly approached Marie's smoldering body, and picked it up. He walked into the shack, and placed her on the floor. Mason limped over to each body, gathering the rifle and belt of each dead soldier. He took the bundle inside the shack, placed it on a table, and returned to the dead bodies.

Finding a medium-sized rock, Mason went to the closest soldier and brought it down hard onto his head. The helmet cracked, but Mason's head-ache didn't stop. Mason continued this on the remaining soldiers.

“Bit overkill, wouldn't you say?” Steve was in the doorway of the shack, watching unassumingly at Mason's barbaric ritual.

Mason turned and looked at him. “Haven't you noticed the headache? The nausea?”

“Oh, I forgot. No, but I'm tone-deaf, apparently to their frequency.”

“That explains a lot. Well, their helmets are what gives off the sound. Destroy the helmets, stop the sound.”

“D'accord.”

~

4:30 pm, 18 September 2014

It was two hours until Mason's mother and her group arrived at the shack. Meanwhile, Mason had wrapped his leg and covered Marie's body with a blanket, which was found in a cabinet. The cabinet was filled with enough MRE's to feed 2 people for a week, as well as three thick blankets, a medic's pack, one hand-grenade, and twelve gallons of water. Steve and Mason each broke open an MRE and were finishing them when Mason's mother was heard outside.

“Shh! Oh dear God...We have to get to the second checkpoint. Quietly!”

Mason heard his mother, and rushed outside. “Mom! We're okay!”

Mason's mother rushed to him, and they embraced. She noticed his leg. “Mason, I saw the dead soldiers, and thought you were...”

Mason comforted his mother, and broke it to her that Marie had died. She took it hard, but like any strong leader, she didn't show it to the others. She simply told them, and they accepted it. Steve ended up being in charge of giving out the food, and when everyone had received an MRE, they all gathered outside the shack to eat. A young man from Mason's mother's group suggested a fire, but Mason reminded him of the smoke.

Mason's mother, after five minutes of quiet, broke the silence with a gasp. Out of the forest, about thirty black-clad men rushed out of the darkness, weapons raised. Mason felt the rifle by his leg, but knew these men meant no harm. The one in front spoke: “Madame President, Mr. Leygril, we were told by your husband to warn you of a coming threat. A squad of Liberators has been dispatched to these coordinates. We are to make a stand here while you retreat to the second checkpoint. Five of my men will come with you. You must leave now.”

Mason and his mother stood, and the rest of the party stood. “Thank you, soldier. There are provisions in the shack for your men, if you need so. Medical supplies are also in the shack. I thank you for this warning, and hope you the best of l-” A blue spike flew past her head, singeing her hair. She screamed, ducked, and the men turned around to return fire, five men breaking off to form a barrier in front of the party. Seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Keyword: survival future shandruk

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