Whiskey Delta – Chapter 32

“If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.”

-Sun Tzu

The terrible roar reverberated in his ears long after it was over. And he could feel it shaking in his bones, sending fresh stabs of pain through him. White light flashed behind his eyes and Braun was clenched them shut. Again, a terrible noise filled his helmet, Mance’s howls subsiding just as his own began.

Then came another voice. “LT! LT, I’m en route to you, sir! Hang on and don’t move!”

“Dezba…” he said, but his hand was nowhere near the comm. He tried to reach for it, but the slightest motion brought Mance closer, the grey teeth just inches away now.

Just one bite… His eyes fixated on Mance’s cracked incisors. They were too close to him. He had to move, broken ribs or not. Braun moved his hand away from the comm… and slid it fast towards his holster.

Mance roared.

Braun froze again.

Mance was bearing his teeth more prominently now. A deep enough puncture, and he’d be looking for his weapon all right, but not for use on anyone else. Mance seemed to know it too, because something in his eyes suggested he was dragging this out on purpose. He didn’t want to bite Braun just yet. First, he wanted him to know exactly what his situation was.

As long as he kept perfectly still, Mance would keep toying with him. If he moved, Mance would get angry. And if, for some strange reason, he really tried to go for it, Mance would finish him.

No moves left. No more cards to play…

Yet strangely, he felt oddly comforted by the knowledge that his would-be killer had a name, that he knew who he was. How often did they have that luxury? How often did they know whom they were killing? No reason why it should matter, and yet it did.

“Mance Harmonn,” he whispered. Mance’s face bristled. He didn’t roar this time, but his reaction was clear. The beast was pleased when called by his name. “You remember who you are, don’t you?”

Mance moved closer and raised his voice just a little. Another weirdly comforting thing about the moment, his enemy could actually communicate with him.

“You were laying in wait for us, weren’t you? You knew more would be coming didn’t you? That’s why you have so many surrounding you.”

Mance made a low rumble. Was this was passed for an affirmative with his kind now? Had they developed their own way of conveying things intelligibly. Or was he to discern things from a pattern of grunts? Either way, it was uncanny, and something he needed to investigate further. While he still had time…

“People keep coming for you… you must figure you’re special now, right?”

A plain moaning growl. And now for the big question…

“Do you remember who you were? Do you remember what your life was like before you got infected?”

Mance did something Braun had never seen before with his kind. He blinked. Then his eyes began to exude something other than the usual mix of pain, anguish and unbridled blood lust. Was he thinking? Was he trying to remember?

“Do you, Mance? Is there anything left of you, your old life? Did you have family?”

That didn’t seem to work. Mance went right back to moaning angrily again. Had he failed to find anything within, or was he hitting a hot button with all this talk of a past life? Mance’s beared teeth let him know it didn’t matter. The monster was reasserting itself. Whatever conversations he was having with what might still be there within were at an end.

“You gotta know, Mance. Sooner or later, someone’s going to get you. You can’t run forever.” He looked over at his rifle, the PDA still beeping at its side. “And you can’t hide anymore. We know where to find you.”

A very angry burst. Mance closed the last few inches between their faces, teeth first.

Sir!” he heard Dezba’s voice again. Not through the comms this time. It was coming from the top of the hill. Mance heard it too. His eyes shot up in the direction of the noise and he went deadly quiet.

“Sir! I got him in my sights!”

“Dezba!”

“Lookout!”

Shots rang out, and Mance roared again. Braun’s eyes squeezed shut as the rounds landed around his body. He felt one impact near his shoulder, another scrape past his stomach.

And then, a relative silence… punctuated by the sounds of running feet.

His eyes opened on a canopy of leaves and branches, the piercing light of the sun now hanging directly overhead. He put his hand to his face and began to feel around for a wound. No pain, but that didn’t mean anything in the midst of shock. He inspected his encased hand, found no trace of gore. He kept checking, just to be sure.

The running feet landed by his ear and a hand flashed into his field of view, took hold of his arm and began to pull.

“Sir! Are you alright?”

Braun was pulled upright. He would have yelled, but the movement compressed his diaphragm and robbed him of the necessary air. The look on his face was enough to let Dezba know what had happened.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, putting his hands on Braun’s suit. “Where are you hurt? Did you get you?”

Braun shook his head fiercely. He couldn’t answer, but the last thing he needed was a bullet in the head over some broken ribs.

“Can you stand?”

“Yes!” he managed to get out, pushing Dezba’s hand away. As quickly as he could, he brought himself to his knees. He grabbed a hold of his rifle, struggling all the while for breath while simultaneously trying not to breath too deep. Every breath was a stabbing pain, but the need for air seemed to be winning out against that.

He looked up at their path, saw the brush still swaying from where Mance disturbed it.

“Get on him, Sergeant! I’ll catch up!”

Dezba looked in the direction he was indicating, back to the LT. “Sir, I can’t leave you here…”

“It’s a fucking order, Sarge! Move it… now!”

Dezba looked at the path again, back to the LT. His breathing was getting quick and sharp, the sound of a man poised over the chasm of indecision. Braun repeated himself.

“It’s an order, Sarge! Leave me now, and get that asshole!”

Dezba stopped figdeting. He pulled his rifle to his chest and cleared the grenade launcher’s breach.

“No, sir.” The words we so final, so plain, that Braun was forced to look at him with astonishment. Was he seriously disobeying an order at this juncture? Did he have any idea how stupid that was? He was sure to ask.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Sarge? What the hell -”

“I leave you here, you’re vulnerable. And I’m not ready to assume command of the team.”

Braun grunted and spat a terrible tasting gob of phlegm. No blood, a blessing to be sure, but the situation was still fucked. On top of everything else, he had an insubordinate NCO.

“Sarge, if he gets away, it won’t matter who’s in charge. Our window is closing. We have to get him now.”

“We will.” Dezba turned back to the brush and loaded a grenade. Braun caught the designation on the side.

“Wait, wha – “

Dezba raised the gun at a high angle and let loose. The shell fired with a loud pop of the compressed-air cartridge and disappeared into the bush with a loud hiss. Braun shut his visor in anticipation of the boom.

It came… hard.

He flipped open his visor and saw Dezba clearing the breach on his launcher. He then grabbed another shell from his belt and popped it into the launcher.

“What the fuck are you doing, firing thermobarics into the woods? We need him intact!”

“We just need his head sir. Besides, at the distance I’m placing these, its likely to just shock the hell out of him.”

Dezba fired another at a different angle and waited on the next explosion. This one didn’t seem as loud, or as shocking. Somehow, Braun suspected it was because he was expecting it now. A third one hissed into the bush at an opposite angle, exploded, and Dezba cleared his breach and began waiting. Within seconds, Braun heard the faint sound of crackling. Dezba heard it too, and began to chuckle.

“Not to mention that added benefit.”

Braun drew a deep breath and huddled over from the pain.  “Whiskeys hate fire,” he said, nodding.

So Dezba was hoping to flush him out, was he? Just one problem that he could foresee. “If he’s got company back there, they’re gonna follow.”

“Then we cut through them until we get Mance in our hands again.” Dezba nodded at the rock behind them that had broken the LT’s fall, amongst other things. “Beats chasing him into another ambush.”

Braun grumbled, spat another terrible gob of phlegm. Still no blood. At the moment, he couldn’t tell if the plan was stupid, reckless, or crazy enough to work. All he knew was, he was in too much pain to argue, and they were fast running out of options.