Short Stories

Short Story #3

(Continued from yesterday's story)

I shook my head. I know my family missed my dearly, and I missed them, but we weren't allowed to send mail. Not a single letter, nor a text message, or an email, or anything. They had searched our bags for electronics by gathering them all around a high-powered EMP (electromagnetic pulse) device and then setting it off. A bit extra, and it did somehow manage to start a small fire.

I groaned. I was past homesick, past really sad and lonely. I might be coming on depressed, but if I was to say that to anyone, I would spend several days in the psychologist's office, talking about my feelings and ink blots and who knows what else.

As the time approached 5:00 PM, I started feeling a bit hungry. I considered leaving my post early, but Anderssen would ask me what exactly I am doing leaving my post an hour early and probably make me run a hundred laps.

• • •

A black helicopter slowly approached the compound. It was followed by several more, and all of them had one command: Leave no one alive.

• • •

I heard the helicopter before I saw it. We had been trained to listen for aircraft, tanks, and other transport vehicles. I looked up. Sure enough, seven or eight helicopters were floating above the base. I grabbed my radio and frantically tried to contact Control, but all I got was static. In fact, all the channels were static. I threw my radio angrily at the helicopters, and only missed by about... oh... 300 feet or so. However, I did succeed in getting the attention of one of the pilots.

A missile streaked from the helicopter and hit the tower, shaking it violently. To the designer's credit, it still stood, but it was missing a huge chunk of the stairs and was violently wobbling. I cursed as I slipped on the tarp. Wait.... The tarp!

I leaped into action, grabbing the string and looping it through random holes, hoping it would count as a parachute. In the distance, I heard explosions, and I smelled a trace of smoke. I worked faster, hoping that everyone was safe. Another explosion rocked the tower and I hit my head against a windowsill. Grabbing my head in agony, I swore quite colorfully.

Finally, I tied together two ends and grabbed a few random loops to use as handles. I spun toward the railing. As I sprinted toward it, I felt a violent shake from beneath me and nearly slipped. Not really caring what it was, I regained my balance and vaulted over the railing, most likely about to plummet to my death. The parachute half-opened, but I still fell very fast. Fast enough that I was probably going to die.

Here's a bit of science. A normal human has a terminal velocity in the neighborhood of 55 meters per second. It does take a few hundred meters to get up to that speed, but the fastest impact a human can survive is around 17 m/s. An acceleration of 9.8 m/s^2, which is the speed gravity accelerates you at, will put you above the survivable speed in just a few seconds. A fall of over 160 meters will, in theory, take somewhere between five and six seconds and will not be survivable. However, a human with an open parachute can fall as slowly as 7 m/s, which may be painful at worst but quite survivable.

I flailed frantically and tried to spread out the 'parachute'. It partially worked, and I went from free fall to plane missing a wing. I spiraled through the air, nearly slamming into the tower. As I finally straightened out the tarp, stood up, and took in the scene that had unfolded.

The entire main building was on fire. Our storage facility was missing. The explosions earlier were most likely our weapons supply and our ammunition cooking off. One of the four watchtowers had crumbled to the ground. Another was missing the entire top portion. The third was tilted at an unnatural angle.

Our hangar with all our vehicles was still burning in some places. Huge chunks of the wall were blackened, and inside, the mangled remains of planes and Jeeps were lying in a heap on the ground. The main gates were completely missing. The wire was on the ground. The guard stations were just... gone.

I fell to my knees. Our base, which I wouldn't necessarily call a house, but still a home, was completely devastated. Burned, blown up, scattered across the floor. I stared at the building. There was no doubt everyone I knew was dead. Everyone was dead. I was going to...

I stared at the ground, tears forming in my eyes. What? I couldn't bring down a helicopter, and I didn't have a tank. Not one that worked, anyway. I crept over to the building, more for the hope that someone was alive than to confirm that they were all dead. I pushed aside a charred door, which creaked slightly, and stared inside. Destruction. Death. Carnage. None of those were enough. I didn't know what was funny about the scene in front of me, but I started laughing. Laughing like an insane person. Something inside of me snapped under the pressure of what my eyes were seeing. I collapsed onto my knees, feeling the slick concrete floor below them. My world began spinning, then shaking- "UP!", someone shouted.

I snapped my eyes open and stared at a blurry figure confusedly before blinking and refocusing. An angry Sergeant Anderssen was scowling at me. "Sleeping on the job?!", he barked. "Up! With me!" He stomped down the stairs, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter. I shook my head and slowly got to my feet. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream. I headed down the stairs, not really looking forward to whatever was coming. In the empty room, the radio beeped, and the transmission light flashed. "Outpost Three, we have picked up several unknown contacts on our radar. Can you confirm?" Pause. "Three?" 

A/N: 1021 words. If you have any suggestions for how I can make this crap better, please let me know!