Lightning Strike (Damned of the 2/19th Short Story) - FINISHED

Burnt Snakes

     Comrade Doctor Korovin climbed out of the BMP when it clattered to a stop, the engine growling. The tracks were full of mud, had torn up the road something fierce, and my mind shied away from the fact that Bomber had run over the torso when he went to steer around it, and the tracks had reduced someone's remains to little more than chunks of meat.

        Foster was holding down Carver, who was holding his belly and screaming, his hands pressed to the wood I'd left embedded in his torso. Brady was grabbing Carver's wrists, trying to pull his hands away, but Carver's strength was fueled by agony and allowed him pull out of Brady's grasp. Doctor Korovin ran toward the three men, his med-bag in his hand. Brady's voice was hoarse, and his screaming endless, and while I knew I should help all I could do is stand and stare.

        The rain had put out the burning 5-ton truck, and I could see the charred remains of half of the Atlas crew. My head swam, and everything narrowed down to someone's upraised hand. Buzzing filled my ears and the world tilted sideways. I knew it was Private Shiela Bengson somehow, maybe the wedding ring she'd been so proud of, maybe my mind was fooling me, I couldn't tell, all I could do was try to stay on my feet as my vision went gray and shot full of static like a bad UHF channel.

        ...this isn't happening, this isn't happening... went through my mind.

        "Ease down, Nancy," John said, suddenly beside me. He had one hand on my lower back, the other held tightly to his abdomen by the sling. "Sit down, you're going into shock."

        "I can't..." I moaned softly, but still sank down so I was sitting in the mud. The water leaked through my BDU pants immediately, and it shot through my head that the ground of Atlas was contaminated and now the ground water was touching me, and God only knew what was touching my skin.

        "Head between your knees, breathe slow," John said, kneeling down next to me. His hand was rubbing between my shoulder blades. "Breathe slow and steady."

        "I can't..." I moaned again. I could hear boots squishing in the mud, and someone touched me.

        "She's in shock," John said.

        "It's Cromwell, Nagle, can you hear me?" The smaller woman asked me. She checked my pulse.

        I covered my ears and began rocking back and forth, crying, sobbing, giggling all at the same time. I was covered in other people's blood. I had blood and gore in my hair. I'd lost my helmet. I'd held a friend's intenstines in my hands. My black boots were covered in blood soaked mud. My knees were bloody from kneeling in the truck. A black gulf opened up in front of me, a fang filled maw full of blood and screaming that tried to pull me down, tear me apart. I flinched back from it as it reached for me, and I drew in a breath to scream. I knew if I started screaming I wouldn't stop,, but the black thing demanded a scream. I just wanted it all to go away, to just hide somewhere till it was all over, to just not be out at Atlas, to just be...

        "What's wrong with her?" Bomber asked, and I could hear the fear in his voice, "We can't lose her too, Cromwell. Do something." He sounded like he was about to burst into tears or start screaming at Cromwell.

        Something inside of me froze over. Training kicked in. The tears suddenly dried up. Strength returned to my limbs. My vision cleared up and the buzzing noise went away. I was aware of the low roll of thunder as the clouds that had been pushed away by the force of the blast covered the sky completely, lightning snarling in their depths. I went to stand up, but Cromwell's hands were on my shoulders. It went through my head that she was a lot stronger than she had been when she arrived at Atlas two months ago, straight from AIT.