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The Old Ways
Posted By: MT<brevard1986@hotmail.com>
Date: 22 April 2004, 3:49 PM
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Stand ye ground O hallowed Infantry!
Stand ye ground and give thou misery!
Swiftly, brutally, kill them with an anarchy fist!
Hold ye ground, here they come, very pissed!
"Stand Ye Ground" by Burny.
The Old Ways
The Marine stumbled and fell on one knee. A shadowy gloom shrouded half of him in darkness.
His knee sunk some inches into the soaked soil. He blinked as strong beams of light feel upon him.
"Damn it, Private!" he heard the Sergeant shout. "Get up, we're moving outta'ere. Pick your sorry ass up now!"
The Marine groaned in exhaustion and staggered forward and upward. Around him, he heard the heavy panting of other Marines, taking whatever they could from this brief respite.
The company moved forward with as much haste as they could gather. Fear giving them stamina they never knew existed.
Another scream from the rear spurred the Marines forward.
Captain Burke muttered an oath and fired the remains of his clip into the creature.
His assault rifle was getting hotter as the bullets spat out with impatience, the muzzle flash shockingly bright in the darkness. The recoil was jarring, and Burke felt his arm going numb.
The armour piercing bullets ripped into the beast, putrid flesh and blood flaying the dank air.
Sergeant Wilson joined him, and fired his shotgun. The shots halted the creature for a moment, and Wilson cocked the gun.
Click!
Burke's eyes widened at the sound of the spent ammo clip. The noise was unexpectedly very loud in the sudden silence.
Wilson grunted and bought his shotgun up.
"You want some more?" he said to the lurching creature.
Wilson fired.
The 3.5" round dispersed and slammed into the hulking creature, ripping through body. The mutated head of a Elite on top flopped forward on the remains of the chest as the rest of its body was launched backwards. The four mandibles were still very much the distinct feature on the sickly green and yellow rotting flesh.
Burke reloaded his assault rifle, slamming in the fresh clip as quickly as he can.
"Thanks, Sergeant," Burke said.
"You looked like you needed a hand, Captain," Wilson said, grinning.
Both men sensed something moving behind them and they wheeled around in unison, guns ready.
Private Garcia froze in fear, staring down the barrels of both weapons.
"Sir..." Garcia stared at the guns wondering why the Sergeant and Captain hadn't lowered them. "The rest of those... those things are dead. Corporal said he found a good spot."
Both men lowered their weapons and looked at each other.
Burke could see that in the Sergeant's eyes there was fear. Fear of those creatures. Fear of how those creatures, like a flood, engulfed the three hundred Marines and slaughtered over two hundred and fifty of them. Yes, they were like a flash flood. A unstoppable, single force of nature... but, there was nothing natural about this Flood. They took the dead, using the rotting bodies as a host for their damned scheme, whatever that was. You almost had to cut them to pieces before they died, or at least, couldn't get back up.
In the Wilson's eyes, Burke could see himself. Like a mirror, the fears in the Sergeant's black iris reflected his own.
Wilson was the first to blink and look away. A Sergeant wasn't supposed to see fear in the CO, dammit! Wilson was angry. Angry at himself. He was angry at his fear most of all. He turned to look at the Private, using his massive bulk to loom over the boy.
"Show me, Garcia," Wilson growled.
The two walked deeper into the swamp. Deeper into the clammy darkness.
"Yes," Burke said, looking around him. "This would do perfectly."
Corporal Jacobs found this deep cave when he fell, trying to escape the tendrils of one of the creatures. It had one low opening, seven men abreast in width. Water dripped and splashed down in many areas, creating small pools. It should hold them until daylight, when they had a fighting chance out there in the swamp.
"You heard the Captain," Wilson shouted to the men. "Get your asses in gear. I want this area so fuckin' fortified; I won't be able to breath! C'mon now ladies, hike up your skirts! We've got work to do!"
The surviving forty eight Marines responded, scrambling to obey the Sergeant's orders. Strong beams of light from their weapons providing illumination through the cave.
Burke ignored the frenzied activity around him and sat down beside a small rock outcrop formation. Water splashed down into the hollow centre. It was some time before the Sergeant sat next to him, leaving the Marines in their defensive positions.
"I don't think we ought to set up look outs," he said. "Those things might-"
"Call them the Flood," Burke interrupted, not looking at the Sergeant.
"Uh... right, Captain," Wilson replied, hesitantly. "Well these... Floods, well, I don't know how they can see us. The ones that looked human didn't seem to have eyes, so they might be working on smell or whatever. I've set up all the positions to cover the opening. The Flood will have to-"
"You a religious man, Wilson?" The Captain startled Wilson. His face was very serious. "I don't mean the crap about God, but of structure and spirit."
"Sir?"
"You ever heard of Syn, Sergeant?"
Oh crap, the Captain was losing it. Wilson had known Burke for three years. He was sent as a replacement for his former Captain. When Burke told him he was going to replace the Sergeant if he did not pull his weight, Wilson instantly knew that Burke was a better Captain. And he proved to be an even greater leader. Nothing could break him. Now, however... Wilson wondered if the Flood broke the man.
Wilson coughed and said, "I don't remember all seven..."
"No, no, Wilson," Burke interrupted, chuckling. "I mean the music."
Wilson had indeed heard of once popular music, Syn. It was a pun on the word 'Sin' and also alluded to the term 'Synthetic score'. It was a popular sound five decades ago with its strong electronic bass and sensual erotic rhythm, usually in the form of heavy breathing. It was very sexually focused, and had been used in many erotica.
Wilson said he did, smiling.
Burke started to say something, but was interrupted by shouts of warning.
The Flood were coming.
Four of them emerge from the darkness, just outside the cave. A carpet of the smaller, basketball sized pods swarming in front. The Marines with assault rifles instantly fired, the torrent of bullets ripping apart limbs and flesh. The pods exploded in nauseous gasses, most of them already gone from the violent barrage.
When the first large one reached the lip of the entrance two shotguns were fired, flinging the creature back. Another Flood ran through the opening, its lopsided gait caused by a shattered lower limb.
The Marines could tell it use to be an Elite. A blue piece of armour portruding from the nape of it's elongated neck.
Hundreds of bullets converged instantly ripping it to pieces, the upper torso simply vanishing.
Five, ten and then eighteen more larger ones appeared. Before long, the entire cave entrance was covered with fetid tissue, several dozen Flood rushing into the cave.
The Marines killed many of them before they reached the group on the left flank.
Before Burke could shout out the order to aid the four Marines, a human Flood sprang from the horde and dropped into the midst of them. Bones shattered and bodies were pierced as the creature used the long, whipping tendrils on its arm with devastating efficiency.
A hail of armour piercing rounds slammed into the creature, snapping and crushing limbs and spine. The ugly deformed head exploded away as a single HE round from Burke's pistol found its mark.
A lone Flood pod danced around the fallen Marines, its lower tentacles caressing the corpses. Burke fired another round.
He hoisted the assault rifle in his right arm and sprayed at a Flood running towards him, using his pistol to shoot off the head at the end.
Wilson moved off to support a group of Marines trying to kill what remained of one of those creatures, clawing its way wildly around the cave floor.
"I've seen better at basic!" the Sergeant roared, and fired a single buck into the back of the creature. The Flood immediately stopped its frantic crawl.
Burke swivelled when he sensed movement to his right. A large Flood descended on him from high in the air.
He dropped and rolled, bringing his weapon up to bear and unleashed hell.
They lost eighteen Marines. They didn't know how many of these creatures they killed. At least it left them a nice round number of thirty, Wilson thought.
Damn! His defensive positioning was supposed to push the enemy back and out of the cave. The separate zones of fire would have pushed any attacking enemy back into cover, but these weren't just any attackers. They were a Flood. With numbers and no regard to the individual self. They weren't going back to cover, and they won't stop pressing on. The separate defensive groups were not the most effective tactic here. What would?
They lost big, and it was his fault. No wonder he hadn't made Captain after fifteen years in the Corp.
"Hey."
Wilson turned, surprised that somebody was able to get behind him so quietly. Must have been in his own damn world, he thought.
"Hey," Burke repeated. "You OK?"
Wilson grunted.
"We never finished out conversation did we?" Burke smiled. "With being so rudely interrupted and all."
Rudely interrupted? The Capt really has lost it.
Burke continued, seemingly oblivious to Wilson's foul mood. "We were talking about Syn weren't we." It was a statement, not a question. "I was about to say that I found it rather funny that we named something we took so much pleasure from, with the pun on a act that goes against divine law. Sin, as you probably know, requires punishment, or so they say. I don't support such beliefs, you understand. Never really understood reward or punishment. You know why I named them 'Flood', Wilson?
The Sergeant shook his head.
"Have you read the Bible? Christianity."
"No, sir, I have not." Wilson reply was terse.
Burke laughed out loud and said, "You're not very well educated are you?"
Burke was caught off guard and fell backward from Wilson's blow.
He could feel blood oozing down his broken nose onto his lips. He ignored the stinging pain in his back, and focused his entirety on the memory that just bubbled up onto the surface of his consciousness.
"No, sir," Wilson said, looking down at Burke. "I am not a very well educated man." He reached out a hand to help the Captain up. He was ready for the on spot exectution.
The Marines stared, bewildered, at the scene in front of them.
Burke took the hand, and pulled himself up. He was grinning.
"My God," he whispered. "Wilson, how many shotguns have we got?"
Wilson, nonetheless surprised at the question, answered instantly.
"Eighteen, and mine."
Yes, eighteen should be enough. It had to be enough!
Private Garcia could see them looming out in the distance. He thought he recognised one of them... was that Bob? He shouted out his warning and quickly scrambled from the lip of the cave entrance, positioning himself with the group in the left flank. He looked back at the two lines of Marines.
The first line was crouched in front of the standing second line. They didn't need Garcia's warning: They could smell the awful things.
There were nine Marines in each line and they all carried shotguns.
The Captain and Sergeant were on either side.
Where did the Captain come up with this shit, Garcia asked himself.
"First line: Ready weapons!" the Sergeant shouted.
The first line of Marines brought their weapons up to bear, aiming at the cave entrance.
Hundreds Flood spore pods came trundling through the opening, some crawling around the wall and ceiling of the cave entrance. A heart beat later, the groups of marines on the right and left with assault rifles fired.
The storm of bullets popped the pods, releasing their awful gas. The stench caused a few Marines to retch.
Suddenly, the larger forms appeared, seeming to pause at the entrance.
"Make them count, boys," Wilson ordered. "Fire!"
The first line of Marines fired their shotguns in unison. The magnum rounds stopping the first wave of Flood in their tracks.
"Second line, fire!"
The second line fired over the first line, reloading and cocking their shotguns.
Seven of the Flood fell. And now, the groups at the flank added their own fire alongside the first lines' united shot. The second line, reloaded and cocked, fired their second barrage at the command of the Sergeant.
The scene repeated itself, over and over. The Marines calmly reloading and firing as wave after wave of Flood descended upon them. They didn't need to aim; the entrance was filled with them. The decayed bodies started to pile up to three feet into the air, some Flood having to scramble over them.
An explosion from deep within the Flood ranks propelled pieces of bodies into the Marine lines. The Marines did not flinch as the pieces smashed into their armour in sickeningly wet thuds. They continued to fire, reload, cock, and fire.
Reload, cock, and fire. Reload, cock, and fire.
That was all they knew, and that was all they would do. Like a machine they repeated this action. And like a machine, the Flood kept coming.
Reload, cock, and fire.
Burke could not feel anything. He had no control of his body
He could see himself firing into the Flood with the assault rifle. His arms were shaking even as he reloaded the assault rifle, but he could not feel them. His body was on automatic, doing what it knew best: Kill.
Kill everything, and anything. That encompassed his entire life.
He knew why he named them Flood. They were a punishment. A punishment for humanity. What has humanity done? A voice in him asked. A bark of harsh and cynical laughter. What hasn't it done?
And now he knew. He knew why he thought so far back into humanities past, looking at the evils it committed. Maybe the Covenant were right, humanity should perish along with its sins.
He could even remember the first time he accessed the old military archives and read the tactics the British employed to kill the hordes in Africa.
Africa: The country on Earth. The planet they were fighting for. He has never even been on Earth. He didn't know what he was fighting.
The Flood were so close now.
The lines will fall. Burke knew that. Somewhere, deep in his subconcious he omitted the fact that the tactics were used to break hordes, not destroy them. Until the advent of the machine gun, the British relied on the hope that their disciplined lines will break a charge. It was a high possiblity for a human horde, but a Flood horde?
No, they will fall.
And it was at this point that Captain William Jackson Burke reverted back to the Primal within. He reverted back to the old ways.
He fought for the sake of fighting. He killed for the sake of killing.
His eyes were wild and he looked around him. Sweat glistened on the Marines faces. Faces at the brink of euphoria. Exultation so overwhelming, they gave themselves completely over to it. This was their God! Chaos, Primal, Death!
They did not care when the flank groups were overrun, or when the Flood were almost surrounding them.
One by one, the Marines dropped their weapons and charged at the Flood.
One by one, each Marine was engulfed by the Flood.
Burke was the last to go, racing behind Wilson. His face was filled with joy as the sweet, decomposing fetid flesh pressed upon him.
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