The Sky Beneath Us (on hold)

EIGHTEEN

Day 28. 07:50.

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They had been walking for what felt like hours. Becca had come to a while back, finding herself bound, and over the shoulder of a massive psychopath. She screamed, and they gagged her mouth with cloth. There was a few others, captives, some walked, some were carried like her. She didn't know what level of sewer they were on, where they were going, or what their ultimate fate would be.

There was noises behind them, low rumbles that quickly became louder. Gunfire? Rescue?

"Wait...wait...I hear friends of violence coming" Jackal muttered, placing his filthy hands on the shoulders of two of his fellows. One hag in a blood stained wedding dress repeated his sentence over and over.

More gunfire. Louder. Louder. Louder.

Avery.

Avery burst around the corner, picked his targets, cut them down. Chad and Mark followed, making a beehive for a gang of captives. Eve and Brady came last, providing cover fire for Avery and picking off stragglers.

Most of the other captives managed to get free, the carried ones were dropped as their captors ran eagerly to fight.

Eyes emblazed with fury, the Jackal hopped excitedly on the spot, cricked his neck, took a deep breath.

"I! Am! The! Jackal!" he roared, beating his chest at every word and launching himself towards Eve and Mark, two bloody hatchets in hand.

"Becca!" Avery called as he put bullets into the nearest enemy. She wanted to shout back, tried, couldn't. All she could do was shoot him a frightened look as her carrier rounded a corner.

The Jackal came into view, brandishing his weapons in the air like they were merely playthings. Then again, Becca thought, to him they probably were. She could see Eve giving chase, gun trained forward at her targets. Becca's captor ran ahead, the Jackal not far behind.

***

Day 28. 07:56.

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The brute carrying a writhing Becca jumped down into a basement entrance, followed by the Jackal, who carried two bloody hatchets. Before he could dive down, he stopped abruptly. He heard her hurried footfalls, turned, and advanced smiling.

Eve squeezed the trigger.

Click!

She squeezed again. And again.

Click. Click.

Out of ammo.

The Jackal slammed the handle of one hatchet across her face, and kicked her to the ground.

As she got up, drawing her father's hunting knife, the Jackal sheathed his weapons.

"Come, little one, slice me, I embrace the pain".

Eve rushed towards him, cutting the knife through the air with a whoosh. Its cold metal blade ripped down the Jackal's chest, tearing away the inky skin. The blade released from him around the stomach area, and Eve found herself off-balance. Unfazed by the pain, laughing, the Jackal pushed her back.

"I've seen into your mind, Eve Thompson...and now it is mine!"

Eve fell to her knees, memories flooding into her thoughts and obscuring her vision.

She was in the Middle-East. Her team-mates lay around her, dead. Except one, one still lived - the Sergeant. She crawled over to his obliterated body as the sound of mortars filled the orange countryside. She never wanted to be here, she didn't want to be shooting at these people. It was the Government's fault, she was just a soldier fighting their war. The Sarge was trying to speak, but could only splutter blood and bile from his mouth. The lower half of his body was gone, probably all around them. Eve threw up...

And she was throwing up in the present too. The Jackal stood over her laughing like the twisted maniac he was.

"Isn't that so fun? The bullets, the bodies, the carnage!"

Eve wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"You're disgusting", she managed to say as she spat at his feet.

"Perhaps, but I hav-"

Avery slammed into him out of nowhere, and they both toppled down into the basement. Eve stumbled to her feet as Brady caught her to balance her. Chad went after Avery and the battle.

"You alright? Did he hurt you?" Brady asked concerned, steadying her.

"Yeah...I...he's not normal".

"I know, he's a complete nutcase" Brady replied, handing her Avery's rusted assault rifle.

"No..." Eve whispered, "he's something more".

Before Brady could respond, Mark showed up panting, sweat dripping into his beard.

"The other captives are making their way back to The Settlement, I'm gonna join 'em, make sure they get back ok".

"Yeah alright" Brady sighed, "we better go after Avery and Chad, make sure...wait. Did you hear that?"

Choom!

A bullet missed Mark's head by a hair, shattering against the old wall behind him. From the other end of the tunnel, armed psychopaths rushed forward sporting a variety of weapons.They ran back the way they came, found it cut off by more aggressors.

"Quick, down here!" Eve called, signalling towards a collapsed service tunnel entrance.

Eve jumped down, rolling on the broken concrete until she gripped the ground and vaulted to her feet. Brady came after her, first jumping to a ledge, then dropping down to the next level with an impact force that made his body fold until he was crouched. Mark made the jump, and rolled hard on his shoulder. The collapse ran two floors, and they found themselves in a ruined apartment building. Followed inside, the three of them backed into the corner, their ammo count falling rapidly. Bullets flew left, right and centre. Mark pulled a desk over, toppled it, made it a cover. On Eve's other side, Brady was flipping a bed frame, propping the filthily stained mattress against it. More bullets were incoming than outgoing. The silver projectiles pinged and ricocheted off the exposed metal surrounding them, bouncing into Brady's left shoulder. He hit the patchy ceiling below him, roaring and cursing indistinguishable words in the thunderous fighting.

"There's too many of them!" Mark called as psychopathic chuckles and manic shouting mingled with the sound of rapid gunfire and Brady's swears.

Eve's weapon clicked, empty.

Mark's emptied out a few seconds later.

Grabbing hold of Mark's arm, Eve stared death in the face. She blessed herself, just in case.

And then there came a monstrous roar.