Freedom Day

Chapter 15 - "The Face of the Enemy"

...

She was all alone. The poisonous yellow smoke was everywhere, clinging to the grass, the walls, and the warm concrete. The mission was to locate any survivors from the terrorist attack, no matter how remote the possibility might be. But she pressed on, even as her gas mask made it difficult to see. She donned a bulky, grey NBC suit that shielded her from the environment. She searched until she stepped on a piece of shattered glass, and realized that it was a cellphone held by a limp hand. It was a girl in a maroon sweater, bearing a youthful face, barely taking any breath.

Madison.

"Hold on! I'll get you out of here!"

She took the young woman's body and hoisted it across her back. She kept a firm hand on her trusted FAMAS and scanned for targets beyond the noxious mist. Seeing none, she made haste to reach the rendezvous point. The weight of the girl didn't hinder her. She wanted to save as many lives as possible.

But in her own rashness, she tripped on a rock that she should've seen. She fell flat in her belly, sending the body of the girl away from her shoulders, disappearing into the smoke. The soldier berated herself and started looking for her. All seemed hopeless. A few minutes went by when all of a sudden, a hand grabbed her right arm from behind. It was a monstrous human, pustules protruding from its pale skin, disheveled hair swaying like thorny vines. It was wearing the girl's sweater. It was wheezing and weeping blood, prompting the other woman to raise her rifle. For some reason, the firing chamber was empty.

*click*

And just like before, a piece of cold metal suddenly touched the nape of her neck. It was sharp and reeked of cordite. It was a firearm.

Not this time!

She delivered a quick elbow to whoever was holding her at gunpoint. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough. The strike had only deflected the weapon's trajectory ever so slightly, which still managed to unload its deadly cargo. To her horror, the bullet careened towards her, giving her no option but to brace for the inevitable impact. She winced and yelped when it tore into her shoulder blade, drilling deep into muscle and bone, and escaping through her left clavicle. Blood squirted as she fell into the ground, writhing. It was an incredible surge of pain, bringing fire to all of her nerves. It was a miracle she did not pass out. In one last act of defiance, she brought her rifle to bear with one hand and pulled the trigger again.

*Bang!*

This time, the weapon worked. The dark figure behind her gasped and dissipated, causing it to vanish into the yellow mist, never to be seen again. Not missing a beat, she turned around and faced the other monster, who was raring to rend her throat with its sharp claws. She didn't waver. She stared deep into its crimson eyes and sharp fangs, firing off a few more shots into the fiend. The bullets hit their mark, producing splotches of filthy blood and a hellish screech. The monster lay dead, but the soldier wasn't satisfied. She pulled the trigger yet again, making sure to aim for its head.

"Go to hell!", she yelled.

One more shot ensured that the soulless fiend was down for good. Then, the soldier collapsed on the misty ground, gasping for breath and clutching the wound so close to her chest. Just like that, she was alone once more.

The pain was intense, like someone had just hit her square in the torso with a sledgehammer. Her first instinct was to use her radio, but the gas mask muffled her words, molding them into pained breaths instead. She couldn't call for help. Tears started to form in her eyes out of helplessness, but she forced them away. Weeping at the mercy of Death was essentially admitting defeat. She didn't want to go. She still had a job to do. She still had people waiting back home: friends and family that deserve to see her alive once more. She prayed for a miracle.