A Bit of Sci-Fi

The Tin Man- part three

He followed the sounds of the vermin’s cheers, making his way carefully amongst the dilapidated structures and rubble that littered the countryside. The attempts to clear the area were useless; the survivors of the bombs had used the broken shards of humanity to guard their worm holes and hide, as they lay in wait for the soldiers to leave the safety of the bases.

Hale knew the families were no closer to the end of the war than the day they had dropped the first bombs decades before. Generations of soldiers had come and gone while the vermin had steadily become angrier and more cunning in their counter attacks. He held his gun close as he made his way closer to unit nine, partially dreading the image of whatever weapon the survivors had created in response.

He could see the smoke rising from behind a hill of wood pallets stacked haphazardly. Crawling amongst the gaps he stationed himself as obscure as possible as he peered through the slats at a circle of fur-decorated humans dancing before him.

He could feel a snarl trailing up his lips as one of the vermin pushed back the hood of his decor, revealing a head wholly encompassed by a dark gas mask, one Haley knew was won hard off a soldier. Strips of fabric swayed slightly as the subject made his way to the center of the cheering crowd.

“Today we have won a small victory, but we have yet to win the war.” Haley could hear the speaker take a short struggled breath. “The metal men will continue to mindlessly follow the leaders until they have destroyed us all. We must be diligent, stopping them at every pass till they leave the lands so that we may return to the surface.”

Arms ascended from the piles, most to reveal masked faces that growled in response to their leader.

“They think themselves more cunning than us, hiding behind steel walls, but today we have proven that we can lure them and destroy them as just as ruthlessly as they destroy us!”

He lifted a severed arm into the air, the flash of a gold watch confirming to Hale that D-3’s leader was indeed dead. The bile tore up Haley’s throat as the crowd produced more of the lost soldier’s limbs, waving them amongst them like flags.

The scene was too much for the Tin soldier, he felt his mind cloud with anger, overtaking his wisdom as he began to slowly rise, gun drawn, from behind the pallets.

“Don’t move another inch.”

It wasn’t the pressure of the weapon on the back of his helmet that made Haley freeze; it was the calm calculation of the voice directing him.

Haley watched from the corner of his eye as a hand, decorated in the same rough animal hair as the group, slowly reached around him and removed his gun from his grasp. He knew without his weapon he was condemned to the same fate as his comrades.

“Now slowly, and quietly, drop back down into the spot you were in before.”

Haley attempted to turn his head but was greeted halfway with the sharp end of the poisonous syringes the soldiers were trained to dread.

“I can tell by the width of your eyes that you know exactly what this is. Don’t force me to use it.” Her voice was quietly powerful, and inches from Haley’s ear. He watched the needle disappear only to be replaced with the end of the double-barreled gun that had been holding up his head. “Sit quietly now and watch.”

The vapid tap of the gun repositioned his view, forcing Haley to watch the triumph of the savages.

The leader lowered the limb and shushed the crowd. “We have beat the metal men, so we will celebrate this evening, but not before we pay tribute."

Haley winced with an expectation of what was coming next. There were stories in the barracks of what happened to the dead left behind, frightening tales ranging from cannibalism to items made from the shell of the soldiers. He wanted to look away, but knew that the hand holding the syringe was inches from his neck.

The wild crowd began to toss the dismembered parts amongst them, into a pile seemingly centered. The remaining outlining limbs were gathered and tossed amongst them as well till Hale was sure all the remains of the defeated divisions were now piled gruesomely amongst the savages.

Then slowly, as if by guided by some unseen entity, the vermin began to hum, a song so calming and soft, it that reminded Haley of a time before the evil.

The leader raised his hands upward as he proclaimed. "Guide these soldiers to the proper light so that they may see the travesty this war brings. Let the fire cleanse them so that only their honor may remain."

The surrounding subjects lowered their heads and murmured in agreement as one stepped forward from the rest, a fire ablaze atop the stick he held high.

Within moments of his lighting a corner of the heap, the rest lit into a fantastic bonfire, the remains of Haley's comrades quickly turning black in the heat.

As the circle began to resume their hymn, Haley could feel his captor lean in close. "Not what you were expecting was it?"

"No."

"Didn't expect us filthy vermin to respect your kind?"

Haley just nodded, his disbelief holding the words he could not produce.

"That's the problem with war, each side gets so caught up in the conquering aspect that they forget that at the heart of it all, we are beings, living, breathing beings."

Haley's eyes watched, as some of the group broke free from the circle, moving about as if in search. His eyes remained on one, covered in red animal fur, which seemed to have found what she had sought out. He could see her shoulders rise up and down as she held the decapitated body of another subject dressed similarly, but of smaller frame. The soldiers had been taught to decapitate, as it was the surest way to ensure death.  He knew she was mourning, for even from his hidden space he could hear her quiet cries.

"Your men did that."

"Because we had too."

"Why? Because some unseen entity told you too?"

Hale considered her words as he felt the gun slowly follow the trail of his spine upwards, but he held still. "Just shoot me."

"You don't want to try and fight for your life?"

"My life is done, I'm a captured soldier."

"I could take you back and have you triad."

"You could."

"They would torture you."

"They might."

The voice remained silent for a moment too long. Hale felt the pressure behind his head ease and he took a chance. Reaching behind and grasping the gun quickly, he jumped up and turned the barrel on the source of his capture.

The lean frame surprised him, as the gun he was holding was heavy in weight. But it was the eyes, striking green and staring wide from behind the gas mask that halted Haley. The eyes reckoned a memory in him; one his mind grasped at desperately but would not produce. She seemed to be held in the same moment of confusion as she locked gazes with him.

Haley's heart began to expand, giving him just a second to realize that his hesitation had cost him his life. He raised his arm; the needle standing erect, still held by the furry hand of the woman whose face seemed to be torn as she watched his functions shut down. His last thought was that perhaps this was meant to be.