Marsh Silas II: Bloody Platoon

Chapter 47

Marsh Silas stared at his wrist-chrono. Tick, tick, tick—the minute hand swung and struck midnight. Drawing breath, he looked up at the squad. Yoxall, Wulff, Ghent, and the others clustered together in the dimly lit tunnel. Haggard and filthy, they nonetheless retained their soldierly poise. The Commissar nodded, and Marsh ascended the ladder at the end of the chamber. Each time he ascended one of the rusty, metallic rungs, his booted feet created a muffled clang that seemed to carry down the whole underground network.

He knew this spot well, for it was Bloody Platoon's own barracks. With Dusk raiders starting to filter through the underground network, their party was steadily pushed deeper into the camp rather than towards the outer perimeter. It was strange to drift through their chambers. They had taken the majority of their belongings to Kasr Sonnen during their training duties. All the bunks were filled with second hand bedding, there were no coats or helmets hung up on the walls. Even the morale posters they liked to pin up were gone. Everything seemed so barren. He felt like a ghost returning to the home he once knew in life.

He reached the top of the ladder and unsealed the hatch. Marsh lifted it, but only just. His breath quivered and he felt his heart beating in his throat. All he wanted to do was open the hatch, but every muscle in his arm seized. No thought could spur him to movement, no harsh whispering, not even a prayer.

Finally, he closed his eyes. Carstensen's face appeared to him. Square, strong, and beautiful—her eyes glimmered with courage and resolve. Her smile alone was enough to put steel in his veins. Marsh wished he could take off his chestplate and take the framed pict from his breast pocket. But there was no time for such a thing.

Furrowing his brow and drawing Barlocke's Silence, he slowly opened the hatch. He swept the ground floor of the bunker with the sidearm and found it empty. In the darkness, he could make out the slumped, torn forms of Guardsmen all along the walls. Some had died with their fingers still on the triggers and knives in their hands. Dead traitors were mingled with their corpses. Dark stains coated the rockcrete.

Something appeared in the corner of his eye. Marsh's breath hitched as he turned and pointed his pistol at the form.

"Shh..." came a familiar hiss. Marsh lowered his weapon as Barlocke's visage appeared. The ghost had one finger pressed to his lips. After looking around, the specter nodded at the entrance and motioned for Marsh Silas to follow. After a moment of hesitation, the platoon leader looked back down the hatch.

"Wait for my signal," he whispered. Commissar Ghent, standing at the bottom, nodded. Marsh gently pushed the hatch all the way back so it didn't slam. Slithering out, he hurried to the opposite side of the bunker entrance. Barlocke was already gazing out, his dark, searching gaze burning brightly. "Can you find us a way out of here?" Marsh asked. "What can you see?"

"It is not so much seeing as it is sensing," the projection murmured. He closed his eyes. "There's no use going down the trenches on the slope. They're inhabited by the enemy. Many sentries are on watch. Even if you managed to get through, there's too much activity in the main compound. Listen, they are rounding up the prisoners."

Marsh Silas held his breath. From below, he heard countless frenzied jeers and cheers. A terrified or agonized scream occasionally broke through, though it was swiftly cut short. Then, the delighted cries grew louder. Sometimes, it was the deep, loud report of a bolt pistol that ended those shouts. Just to think of what those poor Guardsmen were enduring was enough to sicken Marsh Silas to his stomach.

But he drew a deep breath and thought of a way out. He gazed at the cliff that he and Carstensen once fortified. The Band of Dust must have staged a reckless but effective scaling attack up the cliff. All the mines had been detonated, the barbed wire was torn up, and even the caltrops were blunted from so many enemy dead. Marsh Silas leaned out of the barracks entrance.