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The Road to Zaxheoa: Prologue: Hell Takes Its Toll
Posted By: Nike<jimmyneedles09@aol.com>
Date: 27 April 2003, 12:19 PM
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Introduction
A/N: Hopefully, I followed the guidelines and did everything correctly. If I didn't...well, I screwed up, lol. Anyway...I've finally done something productive; I'm sending in a fan fiction. This story is called "The Road to Zaxheoa" (pronounced ZAX-HAY-OH-UH). This introduction will give a basic run down of the characters and a little bit of the storyline. I'm only doing this because, IMO, most stories don't do this. I hope that this intro will be informative and helpful so that the story will be more enjoyable. Without further ado, let me begin...
"The Road to Zaxheoa" takes place during and after Halo, and tells the tale of Corporal Patrick "Neo" Owens. He's just one of the 2000 ODSTs and Marines ordered to guard Alpha-Tango Base, a vital base of operations on the surface of Key Nine.
Key Nine is one of the very few Inner Colonies that has not yet been glassed by the Covenant. It is also near Earth. The planet is very rich and wealthy, both economically and politically. Alpha-Tango Base is near the world's capital, Pulo.
Corporal Owens his a very unique individual. When he has the spare time, he either listens to very old rock music from long ago, writes in his journal of the day's events, or writes poetry.
He is of average height for a Marine, and he's neither too tall or too short. Neo has jet black hair that is colored blonde on the top with streaks of red through it. It's military style, of course. He leads his squad in and out of combat, and Pat's a very trust-worthy person.
As he was in the middle of a nightmare, loud alarms start a-ringin'; the Covenant are attacking, and they're about to glass Key Nine. The corporal will have to find a way to escape, along with his men. Will he do it? (I think he will). But that's not the whole story. I can't reveal anymore of the plot at the moment, so you'll have to read it to find out.
The Road to Zaxheoa: Prologue: Hell Takes Its Toll
Corporal Patrick "Neo" Owens yawned, and stretched his arms out. He had just been on patrol duty, and a private from his squad, Private Bryan O'Neil, volunteered to take over his part of his shift for him.
"Sir, you look beat. Did Sarge push you during that night op?" O'Neil had asked.
"Yes, he did. You better be grateful that you aren't in my squad," Corporal Owens replied.
"I am, sir," he asserted. "Although it isn't my concern to worry about your health, how about I do the remainer of your shift and you go get some sleep?"
The corporal pondered the man's suggestion for several seconds. Finally, he nodded and said, "Yeah, I could use some sleep. Thanks, son."
"Always willing to help, sir," the private had said.
Now Pat was in his squad's barracks, sitting at a wooden table that was in one corner of the barracks. The desk had been carved from a beautiful oak tree, he knew that. A coffee cup sat one side of the table.
He picked it up, leaving a brown circle where the cup had sat. He took a sip, and sort of swished the liquid around in his mouth. He could feel the hot drink slightly burn his tongue.
Corporal Owens set the cup down, and twirled a pen around in his right hand, occasionally tapping it against his head. He loved to write poetry. Despite his tough-guy appearence, he liked it.
Ah, I know what I should write about, he thought.
The Human Race
The timeline of the human race
tells me something:
we all slowly die at a certain pace.
It's best to live it to the fullest...
White clouds paint the sky
The sun smiles down at me:
A perfect day to fly.
Until the darkness comes...
Screw it, Neo thought, I'm tired and I'm going to sleep.
Patrick would have more time to work on his poem. That is, when he had the time. He strode to his bed, stripped his combat boots off, and flopped on his bed, staring at the ceiling. No need for him to strip his combat armor off because the base might come under attack the next morning.
Or worse: while he was sleeping.
Five minutes later, the corporal was asleep. He had a little trouble at first because of Private Web snoring so damned loud the next bed over. Dreams swirled inside his brain; he dreamed of Earth. He dreamed of him, his wife, his 14-year-old daughter, Sarah, and their dog, Chester, going to a park. They were having a nice picnic next to a glistening pond that the warm sun reflected off.
He smiled as his daughter chased Chester, who then did the same to her. He was enjoying the crisp summer air. Like an image of heaven. All very pleasant.
But that was when the heavenly-like dream changed to a horrible gross nightmare...
At first, he hadn't realized that it had changed. That was before Chester pounced on Sarah. He thought the dog was merely playing until blood started sparying out from her chest.
Owens, in his dream, searched for any type of weapon. Even an M6D would suit his needs to subdue the rabid dog.
He found no weapon. With no other choice, he sprinted at the dog with a piece of jagged, sharp bark he had ripped off of a tree. He gored the dog in the side.
The canine flipped over on its side, and it spun side-over-side. Neo stood over Chester, and swung vicious blows at its chest and head.
The once-friendly animal lied in a bloody, mangled heap of flesh and bone.
He dropped the piece of bark, and ran over to Sarah. He had failed to save her. Her stomach and been torn open, her entrails had spilled out onto the lush, green grass. Her blood leaked out and into the pond, slowly turning it red like food coloring.
Parts of her face had been torn off, revealing brain matter, veins, blood, and bone.
Tears streamed from his eyes. His mind screamed, You ass hole! Your the d*ck-head responsible! You didn't even realize that your owned damned dog was killing your only child!
He looked around. The once cheerful, pleasant park disappeared. Now he was in some kind of dark spooky forest. At the far end of the path he stood on was an MA5B. It spun on a pedestral, and a light shone down on it.
He sprinted for it, but the path never seemed to end. Patrick then heard some odd yet chilling noises. First to his left, then his right.
A dark shadowy outline raced among the trees. He stepped on something hard; an M6D.
Yes, thank god!
It was already loaded. When the corporal spotted the thing move, he squeezed the trigger. The loud blam of the pistol echoed throughout the forest.
The sound of a feet pounding into the ground behind him made his blood run cold. He spun around slowly; behind him was a man.
He was about as tall as he was. The scary thing was that he looked like a zombie. It had its hand clamped behind its back. Owens raised his M6D.
But before he could fire, the zombie/man sprinted at him, wrapped his legs around the corporal's body, and bit and clawed at his face.
The Marine screamed shrilly for several seconds. All that remained of the Marine was a pile of bones that lied on the dirt path. The zombie carried the flesh of the corporal towards a group of bushes, and disappeared, leaving a blood trail...
Back in the real world, Neo tossed and turned. He could barely hear the voices calling out to him.
"Sir, wake up!"
Patrick turned over on his back, and eye lids half open.
"Sir, get up quickly!"
He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. The man was Private O'Neil.
"What is it, son?" Neo asked.
"Sir, we got to get the rest of the squad up, and fast!" O'Neil shouted. "The Covenant are attacking!"
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Did you enjoy it? Because I know I did. Chapter 1 is coming soon.
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