Rogue

5

~William~

I duck down behind the fallen, rotting tree trunk again, knowing that whoever is underground will come out soon. I heard that they are aware that we're here, which is a bit concerning. It's not too bad, though. Once, we ran straight into a group of Sick robots who had found our battle plans a day ahead and were prepared for us. So this is nowhere near as bad as that.

   "Is anything happening, Will?" asks Elliot sleepily. It's only been about five minutes since I woke him, so he's still partially out of it.

   "No, there's nothing going on yet. We're still just waiting." I shift my gun into a more comfortable position before looking up again. I'm expecting them to find the bomb anytime, come running out of their comfortable little spot.

   From somewhere under us, a low sound starts, sounding something like a siren. My index finger is already on the trigger of the gun. I'm itching to shoot some of the Sick, any of them. I don't care if they attack me or not. I have to remind myself that it's not worth it if I'm not human, if I'm not feeling any emotion. It also helps to think that I can't leave Elliot alone, or even worse, be the reason that he dies. And shooting them is the only way that my rational thinking kicks in again.

   "When they come, do we need to move away?" I hear Elliot mutter. "Or are we going to kill them from here?"

   "Umm..." I say, pausing for a moment. What are we going to do? "We could begin moving away and shooting long-range or start taking the ones that make it past the others."

   "Alright," Elliot nods. Then he begins shifting back slowly, and I do the same, trying as hard as I can to hold most of my weight on my knees and my good arm. After trying this for a few minutes, I decide that I can't actually do it and decide to suck it up and put weight on my injured arm.

   The pain is excruciating as I rest a fourth of my weight on it, and it feels like it's being torn off as I begin to move it back, but I grit my teeth and bear it.

   It takes about fifteen minutes to get to where we want to be, and that's when we see all of the Sick running towards us. Elliot tightens his grip on his axe and looks ahead, determined. I know that he's trying to be strong for me. I'm usually trying to keep him going, keeping him calm right before we attack.

   The first Sick robot is a soldier, which is just our luck. I see it pulling out its Volock as it runs towards us, already getting ready to shoot. I catch sight of a anti-serum covered knife a few feet away from me and snatch it up, gripping it tightly before running towards it. I don't give it time to even reconsider aiming. The knife sinks through its skin as it lets out a blood-curling cry.

   I've always found it curious how robots can feel pain, but they can't seem to feel emotions.

   A part of me wishes they could, just so I could see their agony as their comrades die.

   The robot begins to fall to the ground, the blood-serum running out of its throat. It's trying to make a noise, but all that comes out is a low gurgle as the liquid keeps pouring out. I know that it might take a while for the anti-serum to fully run its course, but the robot should wind up puking every single drop of its blood-serum up by the time the night comes to an end. As much as I feel the urge to stay and watch, I know that my team needs me out there. So I take one last look and clutch the knife closer to me. I may need it later.

   It is absolute chaos when we emerge from the tree line. There's nothing but shooting, stabbing, and decapitations going on. It seems like there's no end to the amounts of lifeless bodies hitting the ground, and there's no way to tell from this distance who is human and who is Sick. There are also multiple cries for help. The rusty scent of blood drifts heavily through the air, so strong that I'll be surprised if the residents of the next town can't smell it. When I look down, I'm standing in a large puddle of the liquid. I quickly back away and wipe my boots on the ground, disgusted and slightly horrified.

   We've gotten quite lucky so far. Almost all of the Sick are still fighting my squadron, so we don't have any runners. That also means that we can start gathering some weapons from the deceased, as long as the Sick don't see us.

   Elliot must be thinking the same thing I am because he begins moving forward slowly. I follow him and begin hoping even more that they don't turn around and see us. They'll aim at Elliot before they aim at me.

   We make it to the first body, a man from my squadron that I don't even remember. I can't even recall his name at the moment. His brown eyes are open wide, his black beard soaked in blood. He was apparently shot and then stabbed several times in the chest. Elliot leans down and closes his eyes gently before taking the knives from the man's pockets. He was a middle-ranger. He didn't need to attack from up close, but he wouldn't dare attack from far away, either. I can tell because the next body is a Sick soldier, ten feet away, with one of this man's knives stuck in its chest.

   Feet suddenly move past us, and I jump up to see a girl about my age running past us and through the woods. She stumbles, falls, and whips around to look at us for a split second. There's a large cut on her forehead, but I see no blood, which means that she's Sick. The front of her white t-shirt is filthy and torn, even more than our usual. So are her jeans. She is wearing no shoes. Her black hair is an absolute mess, looking like it hasn't been brushed in a long time. And she's holding a small knife in her hand. With the light from dawn, I can see that there's something shiny on it.

   Then she jumps to her feet and begins sprinting again, and I watch her until I can't see her anymore.

   "Will, do you think that girl was a Rogue?" asks Elliot quietly from beside me.

   "No, I think it might've just been a Sick spy." I've seen them before, spies for the Sick that make themselves look like poor beggars and then get close to their human targets before killing them. Elliot, on the other hand, has never watched one work, which is why he gives me a weird look. "No, scratch that. It was definitely a Sick spy. It probably just killed a few of our own."

   Elliot says nothing more, and we move on to the next body. This one has no guns or knives on him, but he does have a few rounds of ammunition. I stick it in my pockets and begin looking around for more when I feel a sharp, stabbing pain in my side. I look down, where a knife is embedded into it. It's not a deep wound, but it's pretty major. I look up at the Sick woman who threw it, an elderly woman wearing bifocals. I aim my gun at the right lens and pull the trigger. The bullet shatters the glass beautifully with a cracking sound as it flies through and hits the robot in the eye. It falls to the ground, right on top of the shattered glass, blood-serum seeping out.

   I turn away from the robot, ready to take on some of the other Sick or just take more weapons, but then I realize something. Something that's kind of random, but something nevertheless.

   The glistening liquid was blood-serum.

   I just saw a Sick robot that had injured another Sick robot.

   Unless it wasn't Sick at all. Unless it was a Rogue.

   I shake my head violently for a moment, knowing that I'm just being stupid. There are no Rogues here.

   I need to get my thoughts back on track.

   But suddenly, I hear the bombs going off and a ringing in my ears, and I can feel the fire on my skin and a scream tearing through my throat. The pain shoots through me, and I think that my entire body has been engulfed in the flames.

   And then I feel nothing at all as the darkness comes to greet me.