Frenzy & Torch

Chapter 36: Shuri

On Okinawa-2, a young boy no older than four was crying over his parents' bodies.

"Mama! Papa!"

He was playing with his building blocks toy set in the living room while his mother and father were in the kitchen. The sirens came first, then the entire house exploded into shards of metal alloy and wood. They were now pale corpses crushed by debris, their eyes staring into a place far beyond the comprehension of the living.

The boy sobbed for an eternity before another nearby explosion blew him outside. His mom and dad were now shredded meat. He rose to the ground and walked aimlessly, the ringing in his ears persistent. He walked down the street of single-story houses that once stood together in a display of comforting uniformity; now they were chunks of rubble no more useful than crumpled pieces of paper.

All the bodies littering the road were unidentifiable. Some of them had their faces hanging off, others had their organs splattered like the grim reaper himself sliced them open with his scythe.

Fighter ships took to the sky and engaged in dogfights with the enemy. Armored vehicles flew down the street alongside infantry who were both scared yet determined to shove a knife into whoever killed the innocent people they were stepping over.

A medic approached the child. "Where's your mom and pop?"

The kid started crying again.

"That was a stupid question. Here's a cracker."

The boy was told to wait on the side and that he did. The convoy rolled ahead only a few more meters before it was strafed by the attack ships. The rooster foot markings on the fuselages were clear as day. Shrikta was openly retaliating against Japan.

The politics were beyond him. All he knew was that death surrounded him. That and unadulterated brutality. Shriktan paratroopers descended on the town and those all around all around like swarms of flies on carcasses.

The policemen and soldiers engaged the Shriktan troops in vicious combat. One military officer drew his sword, sliced a Shriktan diagonally across the chest, and hit his back with the pommel; then his head exploded from a random heavy plasma blast.

The boy wandered to his school and saw a giant mutant chuck a car at a squad of cops. The most intact casualty was left crawling with his arm and a chunk of his torso ripped away.

Smoke billowed into the air in massive plums. The afternoon sun was blocked out, casting darkness on the streets. The Christmas lights on all the buildings were strewn about and contorted like dead snakes, flickering on and off as the energy left them.

The fighting continued well into the evening. Although they fought valiantly, the defenders lost to the Shriktans. The civilians who hid under rubble were found and shot. Those who allowed themselves to become prisoners were herded like cattle and forced to march to a place only their captors knew.

The boy eventually settled down on a bench outside Shuri Castle. A Shriktan soldier approached him right before he dozed off into sleep.

"Hey, kid," said a pink soldier with no nose. His armor gleamed in the moonlight. "Where are your parents?"

He stared at the trooper clueless as to what he said, but it broke him out of his stupor. His parents were dead. The house was gone. He saw people do horrible things to one another. He broke down and sobbed.

"Quit your fuckin' cryin'." The trooper pulled out a gun and blew a hole in his chest.

The boy fell from the bench and hit the floor without another sound. He was suddenly above himself and looking down at his own body. Instead of fear, he felt warmth and love that covered him like a blanket. He had never felt more at peace, not even under the covers on a winter night. He looked over his shoulder and saw his mother and father smiling and beckoning to join them. They ascended to a place where nothing could hurt or separate them ever again.

Xitanker came down in his luxurious ship atop a building that overlooked Shuri Castle. He stood on the roof's edge with his weary aide flanking him and basked in the sight of civilians being escorted by his troops.

"It's so fucking beautiful," Xitanker remarked.

"The castle, sir?" asked the aide.

"No." Xitanker sprung his erect member out from under his robe and started stroking it with a handful of mustard. "Oh, fuck yeah!"

The aide took out his phone and read the message aloud. "The orbital strike on Gladexus was a success. Early reports estimate about 115,000 people were killed!"

Xitanker wacked off even faster. "Ooohhh, fuck yes!"