Primal Gambit

Chapter 22: Night Terror

The sun beat down heavily upon the Siberian desert. Waves of noxious gas descended from the blisterclouds in the sky as Vikhr, Renault, and their point-man shuffled through the shelled city streets. Adorning heavy anti-hazard outfits to withstand the radiation, the masked men became disjointed from the ground on which they hustled. As they received order after order from their shoulder mounted radios, guiding them into buildings and forcing their hands like puppeteers, Doerrman cringed. Everything was happening at a reckless pace; the soldiers understood that they had to do as they were commanded. This included the execution of the infected.

These shells were massive canisters which upon impact would release a chemical compound that mutated flesh and mind. After this shelling, Wobbegong was assigned to clean up the remnants. They moved haphazardly from building to building, entering destroyed apartments and biting into entire families with brass and metal. When the smoke cleared and the dead were really dead, the three killers moved on. Receiving the order to assault a house at the end of the street, Vikhr took charge, nearly bounding on all fours toward the next destination. He had been oppressed by these people and felt no remorse sending them to an unjust end.

Doerrman stopped outside the unhinged wooden door to change his filter and breathe while the beast of the squad walked in shooting. The marksman could hear nothing by this point, feeling only the pounding of both Vikhr's cannon and his own beating heart. At his wits end, Doerrman wanted nothing more than to call off the entire onslaught. He knew Renault would say nothing – do as he was told to go home to his wife and child. When the weary man finally entered the building, he was met by the Siberian's back, relishing in his own destruction.

"This one's got your name on it, Doerr." Vikhr thundered. The marksman could not hear him, holstering his rifle and drawing his pistol to see the husky man kneeling next to an infected child. The girl sobbed, covered in the filth and rended gore from her family's innards as Doerrman approached the two. She looked up to the soldier, thinking him to be her savior. Wiping his lenses, Doerrman pointed the heavy pistol between the eyes of the young girl. He wanted to vomit, gagging to quell the urge. In a bout of blood and metal he pulled the trigger. She screamed –

And the warrior shot up from the bed. Drenched in sweat, Doerrman was enveloped by the sounds of the city: constant sirens, shouting, and gunshots. He lifted himself from the bed, sitting off the edge of it as Valerie rustled under the sheets and finally awoke to see her distraught counterpart. The soldier's head was in his hands, his body gently convulsing as the tears Valerie never saw poured from his being. His ribs shimmied under his tan skin as his lungs struggled to catch air. The girl leaned against her pillow and put an arm on Doerrman's back, caressing it. Orange and blue lights flickered against the wall of an otherwise dark room as civil protection vehicles sped down the street.

"Nightmares again?" She knew her words had to be chosen carefully. She watched the back of her man's head as he nodded. He had no words: his night terrors were too real. His mind was still there, watching Vikhr deface the child in the sulfuric haze.

She picked herself up and moved just behind Doerrman, massaging his shoulders and kissing the corks of his spine. She rubbed her cheek against his tattooed back. She never told him how she felt about the ink, each one designating a different nightmarish era: Shadow Regent, Jungle Maelstrom, Guerilla Havoc, and Wobbegong... there were too many for her to remember. He remembered it all.

"If you knew about all the things I've done, you wouldn't love me." He tried to bury it all, but the mind only suffocates until it finds a release – Valerie was his.

"You know that isn't true. You can tell me anything, Rid. Breathe, relax – You're not there anymore." She whispered into his ear.

His head tilted halfway and a smile unsheathed itself from the pain. Quickly recessing into a frown, tears drenched his cheeks. He took a deep breath and shook his head:

"Part of me always will be."