bright light flares against the side of the building I just ran by moments before the sound wave hits my ears.
Several night runners are thrown from the alleyway between the buildings, their bodies airborne before slamming into the grassy lawn; rolling and bouncing and not rising. The bodies are mixed with shredded arms, legs, and other assorted body parts that land on the grass along with them. Some of the decimated flesh and bone falls out onto the street to my front. A few night runners were ahead of the blast and have turned toward me, the shock and surprise of the explosion slowing them momentarily. I bring my M-4 up thumbing the selector switch to semi, sighting in on the one closest.
My carbine pushes back slightly against my shoulder as my finger tightens against the trigger, finding the trigger release point without jerking the weapon. The bark of the rifle indicating a bullet is on its way to a night runner fully in my sight. Its head snaps to the rear as it absorbs the steel in its left eye. The round cuts through the liquid orb, splattering the contents of its eye on its cheek and side of its nose, before slicing directly into the night runner’s brain. The bullet continues unmolested hitting the back of the night runner’s cranium and mushrooms before exiting out of the back, taking a large amount of skull bone and brain with it. The night runner falls to its knees, resting momentarily in a kneeling position as if in supplication before crashing forward to the ground on its face. The bone, brain matter, and hair-covered flesh cover its comrades behind.
This is only taken in subconsciously as I rapidly aim at the next, again firing as soon as the next round is chambered. The next steel bullet impacts before the first has fallen with the targeted night runner accepting the round in it shrieking mouth, hitting its upper teeth before racing to the back of its throat, deflected only slightly downward by the impact with the front teeth. Slamming into the back of its throat, the round continues through and smacks forcefully into the spine, severing it. Exploding out of the back of the neck, the round disintegrates taking as much of the tissue, flesh and bone as it can grab and take with it. The night runner’s head flops forward and it sinks straight down to the ground.
I continue delivering rapid single shots until all of the night runners, who were ahead of the grenade when it went off, lie unmoving on the grass, sidewalk and street. I turn and run once again, noting that I have half a clip left. I would normally reload wanting a full clip but I know I may possibly need every round and have to conserve. I hear firing in the background indicating that Lynn and her teams are engaged in their own firefight as my feet carry me away from the route that they should be taking on their way back. A glance over my shoulder shows night runners pouring from the narrow space between the buildings. I have gained a margin of space. I also notice that they have hesitated and begin glancing toward the distant firing. I raise my M-4 and fire twice into their midst.
“I’m over here dumbshits!” I yell.
This draws their attention and they start running after me once again. Their hesitation has granted me a few more feet of separation. I turn left through a parking lot feeling my wind catching up with me. I cannot afford to stop so I slow up. My adrenaline and fear are making me run faster than I want yet I still feel like I am slow. I focus my awareness and bring that back under control; feeling my speed and breathing in order to guide me back to that sustainable, ground eating pace.
Before, we would be able to distance ourselves from the opposing forces, losing ourselves in the brush or trees and rest up for a few minutes until taking off again as those forces closed in. The few minutes of breath allowing us to keep a fast pace for a sustained period of time before stopping to do it all over again. In this way, we could cover a lot of distance to an evacuation point and still keep our distance. However, the open areas of the base prevent me from being able to lose myself completely. I have to use changes of direction and the buildings to keep my separation. Plus, I do not want to lose them entirely yet.
I round the corner of the building that the parking lot served as the lead night runners enter into the lot behind me. They have closed the distance by a substantial margin. I am relying on the medical reports I read earlier and hoping that, although they may be faster, that they may tire quicker as well. That may not be the case with their enlarged hearts and lungs but I also cannot afford to wind myself. Once that happens, there is no return and the recovery is longer. There is a point of no return, or a point of a much longer return, with regards to becoming winded.
Ahead of me, two night runners emerge from the side of the building I just rounded. I raise my weapon and shoot twice at the first one; my first round missing but the second one taking it in the chest just below its left armpit. The bullet ricochets off of the rib, splitting the round into several pieces. A larger piece explodes out of its right shoulder after taking out most of the lung along the way with the other smaller pieces of the bullet lodging in the heart and slicing through the aorta. The night runner’s chest cavity quickly fills with blood spurting from the punctured heart and aorta, dropping it forward to the ground. My next two shots hit the side of the chest of the second one in much the same fashion. It falls to the ground close to the first.
I continue on, passing the fallen night runners to the left, hearing a sporadic gurgling from the second one as it tries to force breath into its torn and blood-filled lungs. The shrieks behind me grow louder telling me the first of the night runners have rounded the building. I ready another grenade and dart across the street. My plan is to angle away from Lynn and the teams but ensure my route takes me ever closer to the ramp. I will need my last grenades to open up space behind me in order to get into the aircraft. That leaves me with this one to use. I want one for the last sprint to the aircraft and I would certainly like to have one spare just in case.
I turn left, cross another road, and head between two more buildings across the way. I know I am edging closer to the ramp and I want to create some space now in order to make a more direct approach. Plus, the ones behind me are getting a little too close for my comfort. I speed down the space between the buildings getting the grenade ready as before. My breath is coming a lot quicker now and I feel myself edging toward that heavy breathing stage where I will have no choice but to slow down.
The building sides end just a few feet before me. I toss the grenade casually behind me as I reach the corners, not wanting it to go too far but not wanting it to be on my heels either. The buildings shielded me before but this will not be the case this time. I turn to the right once again, keeping my pace up and angling across the street to buildings on the other side. I make it almost all of the way across the street before another explosion rips the night apart behind me. I do not stop to watch the aftereffects but keep going until I reach the side of the building. I then stop, turn, and lean my M-4 against it. There is only a few that made it ahead of the grenade before it went off. I take them down quickly with a few measured rounds. I turn and start running once again.
I do not bother stopping to get the attention of those behind me as I feel I have drawn them far enough away from the other group. It is now a matter of using my brains to gain some separation; even hopefully losing the crowd behind me. I know that is unlikely however as they can find me with their increased sense of sight, smell, and hearing. I run down a sidewalk leading by the side of the building.
“How are you doing Jack?” I hear Lynn call.
“Little busy right now,” I respond back after gaining a measure of breath with which to talk.
The cat and mouse game continues with me darting along buildings and across streets, sometimes doubling back in order to throw them off. They seem to have a hard time finding in which direction I go, perhaps due to the light breeze swirling around the buildings That gains me a little bit of separation each time, but the sound of my boots guides them in my direction every time. If it were not for their sense of smell, I would find a dark hole to climb in and wait the night out like I have done in the past; becoming a hole in the fabric of reality while guards search endlessly for me. I am also on the lookout for a ladder heading up the side of a building. It would have to be the right building without any other way of gaining admittance to the roof but I could hold them off from above if the right building presents itself. That is not the case so far and I cannot really slow down much to look. The sounds behind me let me know they are still on my trail.
I finally come up on the tarmac with the night runners closing in behind and break out onto it alongside a hangar. I pull up short.
I cannot take too long to decide what to do and I am spent. I could either find a building to break into and hold them off in some narrow hallway, or I can try and get the attention of the night runners around the aircraft, lead them away and circle back. I look quickly up at the starlit sky;
