Always the Last

“Through in teams. Hodgson, Cowell; clear floor 1. Kaleki, Gates, cover the rear. Move!”

Gates lazily doubled tapped his earpiece to confirm. This was the third building tonight. Same thing every time. Through in teams, Gates and Kaleki cover the rear. Another damned office block, same old drill. At least they were out of the rain.

Private First Class S.Gates slumped down next to the exit doors as soon as the last member of the recon team was out of sight up the stairwell. He smiled to himself – no work and a nice rest was fine by him.

“Shouldn’t we be covering the rear?” Kaleki. Not a bad guy, but jumpy as hell. Always ‘doing his duty’. Didn’t know how to make the best of things. “Kaleki, you see me not covering the rear? You see me charging off, guns blazing, like General Hiesman of the 33rd?” “No…” “Then sit down, shut up and stop dripping on me”.

So far, so good. Reports of enemy activity in the sector had clearly been overestimated. That was fine with Gates. The fewer jellyheads he saw, the better. They’d seen some enemy corpses at the muster zone and that was more than enough for him. It wasn’t that he was a coward exactly. It just happened that he’d always got by doing the least work possible. Pure luck. He always seemed to be at the back of the line, or just in time to take messages back to HQ before the rest of the unit went on a 15k training hike. Go figure.

Reaching behind the chestplate in his combat armour, he pulled out a crumpled pack of damp cigarettes. He fired up the tar-black tube and took a deep breath. “Don’t those give away our position?” Gates upgraded Kaleki from ‘not bad’ to ‘pain in the neck’. “Who to, genius? We’re in the service entrance of a 20 story building and all the lights are on, beaming like a spotlight. If there were any of those jellyheads within 10 klicks of our position, which there ain’t, you really think my one little light would make any difference?”

To his credit Kaleki didn’t answer. Just stood there looking alert. These Maganum farm boys were all the same, so happy to be off the dull agri-world that they acted like boy-scouts all the time, desperate for any excitement.

He closed his eyes and took another puff. No excitement wanted here, no thank you. If the Reconquest carried on like this, Gates could learn to like it just fine.

Tap Tap Tap.

Tap Tap Tap.

Tap.

“Cut it out will you?” slobbered Gates, giving him an angry look. “What?” “Stop it with the tapping. If you’re that bored, go check the perimeter” “I’m not doing anything!” “Sure, and I’m not smoking. Just go do it and stop bugging me” Unslinging his rifle, Kaleki started off down the corridor. “Wasn’t doing anything. And you should be covering the rear!” “You be thorough now. Don’t want any of the nasty Scourge sneaking up on us do we?” “Bite me Gates”

On his own at last. He closed his eyes again, inhaled his smoke and listened to the rain rattle against the exit door. So much for an alien infested planet, he thought. The rain’s still wet, patrols still suck and the infantry still get lumped with the footslogging. But if you knew how to play things, you always ended up sitting down with a smoke. Oo-rah.

Tap Tap Tap.

“Kaleki, I swear…” Gates heard a distant crump and the lights went out. His eyes snapped open. This was past a joke. Outside the wind howled as the storm increased in intensity. Standing, he reached for his UM-3 but felt nothing but air. Panic started to set in. “Kaleki, what’s going on? What’s your position?” he rasped, tapping the radio. There was no reply. “Sergeant? Hodgson! Anyone, respond!”

There was a sudden gristly crack, then nothing but static. Falling to his hands and knees Gates floundered in the dark, pawing the damp floor desperately for his gun. The only light was a sickly yellow from the cigarette still clamped between his lips. Each new puddle gave no hope.

Tap Tap Tap.

Gates stared. It was louder this time, and more metallic. No, not totally metal. More like the click of a finger nail, or knuckles on a door. Whatever it was, it was inside. Here. With him. He crawled on all fours towards the exit. ‘Gotta get out of here’, he thought wildly. ‘Think up an excuse later Gates, just get the hell out’. His hand slipped on something wet and metallic, dumping him sideways into the wall and knocking the air out his lungs.

Frantic grabbing gave him a ray of hope. It was the butt of his rifle. Pulling it up to firing position, he checked the magazine for the first time since basic training. And couldn’t find it. Gates held it up close to his face, the pale yellow of the cigarette confirming his worst fear. The front of the gun was missing. Barrel was sheared through, the gnarled half that was left was covered in sticky mucus.

Tap. Tap.

He froze. It was right above him. The ruin of his weapon fell from his shaking hands. No running now.

Tap. Tap.

Brave for the first time in his life, Private S. Gates looked upward at the Razorworm hanging above him. Gawping open mouthed, the cigarette fell from his lips. In the closing darkness his world became jagged teeth, searing pain and silence.

Tap.