Bullets

“Bullets. That’s how I’m going to die.” Flint rolled down her sleeve.

“No shit.” Dech lit a cigar. “Should tell us something we don’t know.”

Carter squinted one eye, the other closed. Flicking his wrist, he let the knife loose, and it dug into the corkboard on the wall. Bullseye. “If its predictions are true, they’ll try it on civils.”

Red entered the barracks, sleeve rolled up and a slip of tape covering where the blood was extracted. “I’m gunna’ get fuckin blown up. Bring back a limb at least, kay, fella’s.”

“Sure thing,” they all replied.

Flint reached above Dech to her bunk and fingers clasped her rifle. “That shit’ll kill ya.”

Dech grinned, cigar pinched between his teeth, bicep bulging as he lifted a dumbbell.

She loaded the rifle and slipped on sunglasses. “Told Sarge I’d get him a boar. Back soon.” Flint exited the barracks.

Scorching heat settled over the desert at noon. Distant trees blurred in the haze of heat stretching across the dry plain. Mounting a quad and slinging the rifle over her shoulder, Flint started the engine and sped towards the forest ahead.

The tantalising aroma of flame roasted wild boar wafted through the mess hall. Flint pushed ahead of the privates; the only trained marksman left on this base had priority. She had her work cut out for her, picking up the dead snipers’ slack. After grabbing her share of grub, she sat with the others.

A humid breeze whistled through the mess hall through the open doors. Her eyes drifted into the clear blue sky and locked onto the nearing chopper, rotary blades whipping through the wind. A spotter waved the chopper down and signalled where to land.

“New meat,” Carter said.

The chopper landed, blades winding to a stop. A troop of eleven soldiers eagerly jumped out.

“They’ve got no idea what they’re in for,” Red smirked.

Dech gnawing on his food, stifled a laugh.

“They’ll soon find out,” Flint watches the new troops led to their barracks.

Sticky from sweat and hair clinging to her neck and back, Flint crept from the barracks, cautious not to wake the others. Stars glinted in the dark sky, and light shone from the command tent pitched in the centre of the base. A dozen shadows hung on the fabric walls flapping in the breeze.

She glanced at her watch. Must be important to hold a meeting at two in the morning, she thought and scoured the camp for prying eyes before stealing forward and crouching beside a jeep.  

“Are you sure the spotted were actual enemies?” We don’t need another ruckus like last time after blowing up a bus of damn refugees.”

“Send a team for confirmation, Sarge?”

“Send Red and his team to locate the enemy. Chad and his lot can check the supposed threats,” Sarge ordered.

“Typical to send us to find an enemy camp while those girls check on wandering villagers,” Red stomped into his boots.

“They could be enemies trying to infiltrate the border,” Flint said, pulling on her ballistic vest.

Dech took several breaths of a cigar before tossing it.

A black hawk’s blades began to spin. Flint pulled on her rucksack and ran for the chopper. The four climbed in and the pilot lifted the chopper into the air. Flint steadied her balance, watching the base shrink below.

Crossing the dry expanse over dead trees and muddy marshes, they reached the swamplands in the east. Hawk hanging above the trees, Flint grabbed a rope in her gloves hands and slid down. Her boots punctured the canopies and she landed in the muddy swamp. Lifting her rifle and looking through the scope, she surveyed the surroundings.

The others joined her, taking cautious steps through the water. Red took a map from one of his pockets and unfolded it. “We’re about a hundred metres from the last sighting from a week and a half ago.”

“Doubt they could hide out here for long,” Dech pulled at his collar.

Sweat began to collect on Flint’s back in the trapped humidity. “We should head north-east. The swamps shrink and forests aren’t so dense,” she said, knowing these parts well from the two years she’s served here, stranded. Red and the others only arrived about eight months ago, after the last fire fight which claimed seventeen soldiers’ lives.

“I really need a smoke,” said Dech, reaching into a pocket.

“Give away our position for cheap tobacco?” Carter shakes his head.

Dech puts the cigar away and snaps the lighter shut.

Two kilometres up mountainous terrain through the forest, Red looked through his binoculars.

Flint wipes sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, licking her dry lips, desperate to spot the enemy, report back and return to camp. “See anything?”

“Maybe.”

Making their way to the next peak of terrain, the group crouched low amongst the brush. A smoke trail rose from a campfire in the valley below. Through her scope, Flint spotted a few wild ox, caged chickens and women scrubbing laundry in the stream. Animal skulls and other bones hung from the porch rails.

Flint switched on her earpiece and listened to the static, waiting to report back. “Looks fine to me.”

“What’s with the skulls and shit?” Carter crouched beside her.

“Probably to ward off evil spirits. They’re superstitious,” Dech fidgeted behind them.

An explosion sounded far west as the earth trembled beneath them.

“What the hell was that?” Red asked.

Villagers shouted and ran.

Flint looked through the scope down into the village and spotted a boy pointing up at their hiding place. He yelled, and abnormally tall men appeared, armed with Uzi’s and rifles.

“Fuck, we’re spotted.” She pulled back into the trees.

The four started running, Red trying to reach the base through his earpiece. “Spotted and fleeing enemy territory. Need emergency evacuation.”

Shots fired after them and shouts in what Flint suspected were German. It was hard to tell between Earth languages and alien attempts of them with their scrambled dialects. She’d become accustomed to their speed but didn’t expect them to catch up so fast. More shots fired.

Flint slipped down a rocky slope into the dense forest leading to the swamplands.

The aliens relied on smell alone. Eyes on their stretched human forms were for show and they were almost completely deaf.

Dech struggled to keep up, panting behind her.

“I fucking tell you that shit does damage,” she yelled and shoved him ahead of her. “Hurry up.”

They reached the swamps with a few moments to spare before the enemies closed in.

A scratchy voice came through the earpieces, “Hold positions, hawk will extract you in five minutes.”

Red shot a flare through the canopy and gestured to Dech and Carter to hide. He did the same, within Flint’s view as she stepped into the swamp water. She crouched lower, wading through the murky slush and hid among the reeds.

Neck deep in the swamp, Flint kept her rifle above the water. The aliens wouldn’t be able to smell anything through the swamp stench. Organ anatomy of the aliens is unknown. Orders were to shoot the vitals though: heart, neck and head.

One appeared and stalked through the swamp, sniffing the air in an attempt to pick up human scent. Flint found it through the scope, and her heartbeat fastened. When they spook they move fast, so she needs to hit her mark. She didn’t earn the hogs tooth around her neck for nothing and didn’t doubt her shot.

It crept closer to her, gangly fingers clutching a machine gun.

She squeezed the trigger. Three consecutive shots. Bullets penetrated its chest, neck and head. Sucking in oxygen, it gasped for breath and fell. Hollow shrieks raked through the air as black blood seeped from the wounds into swirls in the water.

More appeared, clicking their tongues like Morse code.

Throat dry, Flint swallowed and found the others through the scope. She fired again.

One went down shrieking, but the other spooked and manoeuvred too fast for her to track.

A chopper flew overhead. “Come on,” Red yelled, shot at the alien and gave Flint time to wade to the bank. Out of the water, she ran to catch up to the others.

The alien ran after them so fast, even though blood drained from various shots in its torso, she feared it would catch her.

“Hurry. C’mon,” shouted Carter.

Dech and Flint sloshed through the marshes and emerged from the swamp. Easy targets in the open, Flint fired shots behind her at the alien on her tail.

The hawk above circled, the gunner fired, and the alien fell to the mud in a hail of bullets.

Ropes fell. Carter grabbed one and climbed.

More aliens appeared, undistinguishable from humans until they were close enough to realise how goddamned tall they were.

Grenades hurtled toward them. Dech tackled her out of the way before a grenade landed, kicking up mud.

Steady on one knee, she fired shots at the enemies. A few went down, and Dech yanked her up out of the mud.

They ran for the hanging ropes only metres ahead, as the hawk circled and shot defensive fire down at the horde of aliens. Flint reached the chopper and wrapped her hands around a rope. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Red shot in the leg and trying to run.

She let go of the lifeline, running back to help him and squeezed the trigger. A few feet from him, a grenade exploded. Flint leapt out of the way and hit the mud. She turned and fired, searching for him. “Red!” Among remnants of the grenade blast she spotted a boot. “Red. Fuck!” She turned and ran for the chopper.

Sprinting, she reached the chopper and jumped, clinging to Dech and Carters arms as they pulled her up. Bullets ricocheted off the blades as the hawk ascended. A grenade smashed through the windscreen and exploded. Blood blasted through the cabin. The chopper veered right and crashed in the mud.

Flint crawled from the wreck, pulling a pistol from her belt. A bullet pierced through her leg, and she fell to her knees. Another hit her arm, but she lifted the gun and fired at the nearest alien. A bullet penetrated her abdomen and she doubled over in agony as warm blood seeped from the wound.

A weight slammed against the back of her skull. She fell to the ground. Gangly hands wrapped around her boot, and one of them began dragging her.

“Flint,” she heard Carter yell. “Flint.” His voice began to fade.

Bullets, she thought. Her hand was still wrapped tight around the pistol, finger resting on the trigger. Head spinning and vision out of focus, she managed to lift the gun to her head. Pressing the cool metal to her temple, she clenched her teeth. And squeezed the trigger.