Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Resident Evil: Guardian
"Run For Your Life"
One world, make better
In strait, hard bitter
There is no compromise
Your bringing forth your sacrifice
On your feet, who's with me?
On your feet, let's go!
Every time I see inside you
I see myself within you
(Hooah!) This is for the soldiers
(Hooah!)This is for the soldiers
(Hooah!) This is for the soldiers
All for one, let's get some!
Drowning Pool - "Soldiers"
I didn't enlist for this.
I didn't want any of this.
Didn't want this shit storm.
Didn't want to face the horrors.
Didn't want to fucking fight these things.
I Wish I could go back in time and kill George A. Romero for ever coming up with the concept.
I never did like horror movies.
Confused are you? Well allow me to clarify things.
The year is 2011, my name is Nathan J. Smith, age 18, United States Army, 12th Infantry Regiment. Base of operations: Fort Carson, Colorado. Currently deployed in the city of Colorado Springs.
The reason for deployment?
Support and reinforce National Guard and Marine units. Military's response to complete and utter crisis within the city; lost of law, order and all communications, riots, destruction, desolation, and citywide panic.
Oh yeah, and the hordes upon hordes of cannibalistic living dead that were spreading throughout the entire country and pretty much the rest of the world.
Christ, guess I forgot to mention that part, eh?
Always did have a knack for leaving important details out…
"Suppressive fire! Suppressive fire!"
"Swarm! To the right!"
"Grenade, going in!"
"Use the '240! Use the MG!"
"They're coming through the alleyway!"
"We gotta fall back! There's too many of them!"
"Shut your mouth Corporal! Hold the line!"
"Get some! Get some!"
This…this is what we call combat. This is a battlefield. These are the sounds, the actions, the horrors, the rush; this is combat. This is war. This is my job. This is my life.
"HOLD THE LINE! HOLD THE FUCKING LINE!!!"
Sucks, don't it?
We're engaged in combat, all of us; me, my squad, my Platoon, my Company, my entire Regiment, every branch of the U.S Military! Hell, the whole world! Our entire species, the Human-Fucking-Race…is at war.
And we're losing. God help us, we're losing. We're losing to an enemy that isn't even supposed to exist. Fighting a menace that was once only seen on some cheesy Saturday night horror flick, invented by a man, apart of our imaginations, faced only in our nightmares…
I guess this means I'm living a nightmare now.
But like I said, I'm in the middle of a battle right now. We were split up from our sister Companies, and then separated from the other Platoons. So us, a single Platoon a little over forty men strong, are faced against a horde of hundreds maybe even thousands of zombies, stuck smack-dab in the middle of a city with millions more. Each one with an insatiable hunger, a hunger for human flesh, my flesh.
We. Are. Fucked.
There's just so much gunfire now, muzzle flashes are lighting up the night sky. The claps and cracks of small arms fire, the roar of machine guns, the explosions of grenades and the terrified screams of my fellow soldiers around. And moans, oh god the moans! Each walking corpse releasing a horrifyingly hungry moan. And every moan causes another to moan, and then another, an another, an another, and a cycle begins. So many moans, that they are actually starting to pierce through our gunfire and echo through our heads.
So much noise, I can barley hear myself think.
I'm on the firing line, me and my squad, taking cover behind a Humvee that's currently parked alongside others for a makeshift barricade. The gunners on the vehicles unloading on the living dead, me, taking a knee and firing careful burst shots from my M16 at any gray skinned head that I see slouching or moaning. My Staff Sergeant and his RTO are right next to me. My mind can barley register the radio traffic going over the comm. That is until I hear the following.
"…Grid ES 923 945! Danger close! How copy?"
"Solid copy. Shot, over."
My eyes widen and I my head jerks to the sky, in a few seconds, I catch movement and I see the ordinance arch their way down and into the horde. The M109 Paladin artillery fire is dead accurate. Multiple 155 mm shells smash right on top of the horde and HE rounds light the sky and set the street ablaze. But as seconds pass and the fire dies out, the moans continue and the sight of burning zombies meet my gaze. Despite the overwhelming firepower, the artillery is rather ineffective at combating the undead and fails to stop the horde.
Most weapons are designed to shred a target's body with shrapnel, burn them to a crisp, cause so much pain that they die from shock or even create kinetic shockwaves that cause entire body systems to shut down.
Cool, I know.
But headshots, we're trying to acquire headshots here, destroy the brain. Not one super weapon in the U.S Arsenal was ever designed for headshots in mind.
But don't get me wrong, the zombies never ever get through battle unscathed. I've seen bodies blown to shit. Fried, shredded, decapitated, vaporized, atomized, the list goes on.
But if it's brain is still intact, then they won't die. I could slice off a whole head, from the neck up and the fucker would still be blinking and more importantly, biting.
And so in this war; tanks, artillery, choppers, planes, bombs, they are all nearly useless. The only thing that may win us this war, is a guy and his rifle.
And with those odds, I can't help but realize just how screwed we really are.
The Platoon continues to lay down as much gunfire as possible, but it's not enough. For every zombie I kill, three more take his place. There are just so many of them and so little of us, and we're running low on ammunition. The undead are getting closer, to close for comfort. We can't stop them and I'm losing hope. We all are.
The Lieutenant came running up to us and tapped my squad leader, Staff Sergeant McKinley on the shoulder. The LT's face is of panic and fear; he realizes just how hopeless the situation is and his next command fails to surprise anyone.
"McKinley, I need you and your squad to set up rifle teams in the apartments to our six!" He motioned to several building which were a few blocks away. "You need to cover the Platoon's retreat, now go!"
"Sir." The Staff Sergeant acknowledges the order and he rallies the nine of us. We quickly rush down the street, towards the apartment complex, pausing only to take out a few zombies which were starting to approach from our flanks. Which is a very bad sign.
The complex we occupy is multistoried and gives us a commanding view of the battlefield. But what meets our gaze, terrifies the shit out of us.
The crowd of undead that the Platoon was facing was much bigger than what we originally saw. Other than the main horde, there were multiple contingents of zombies who were shambling towards the firing line from every direction. Moving in through the buildings, alleyways, it seemed that they were everywhere.
We started firing down on those approaching the line, which in turn warned the Platoon of the ghouls attacking their flank. A few guys started to shift focus from the undead at the front of the barricade to the ones creeping up behind them. They were probably panicking, scared shitless at the sight of zombies moving in from all sides. But with them focusing on the flanking swarm; the main horde was met with much less opposition, resulting in them actually reaching the road block.
This isn't good…
The undead were squirming, climbing over the barricade, the troops who were arming the MGs on the Humvees were forced to abandon their guns. Those machine guns were the last hope we had. Without them, our fates are sealed.
I swore as I watched the Platoon, my Platoon, become devoured alive by the feasting dead. They are surrounded from all sides, no where to run. And the worst part of this is that no matter what my squad does; we can't help'em. The others are going to die and we are powerless to stop them.
Over the radio, we can hear the LT's cries of terror as he is consumed by the undead.
"Shit! Please God! No, no, no, no, n-" The his voice is cut off by very human screams, unmerciful moans and a sickening wet gurgle.
I grip my rifle tightly and look up to my squad mates; each one has the same grim expression on their faces, each one probably thinking the exact same thing.
No fucking way that'll be me!
I turn to Staff Sergeant McKinley, who to my surprise complete disbelief, has a look of absolute horror stretched out on his face, as opposed to the normal "cool-under pressure" look he's always been handling.
Well…if that ain't nerve reckoning, I don't know what is.
"Staff Sergeant?" I begin, my voice kinda shaky, "Can I give free advice?"
"Go ahead." His face is grim and he speaks gravely, as if he's regretting ever enlisting in the army.
Hell, he probably is
I suddenly look around, realizing for the first time that not one of the guys in our squad have continued to fire from the complex that we have occupied.
Are they regretting it too? Or are they just scared shitless? Because I know I am.
"Well?" McKinley says impatiently, breaking me away from my thoughts.
Oh yeah, forgot all about surviving.
"Perhaps now would be a good time to get the hell out of dodge?" I suggest lamely. He looks around for a bit, collecting his thoughts and coming to a decision while all eyes are on him.
"For once Smith, you speak something other than absolute bullshit. Lets get the hell out of here!". He says, suddenly all gung-ho on us.
After the Staff Sergeant said the latter, there was an assortment of "Hell Yeahs!" or "Hooah!" from the squad as we already began packing up weapons, ammo, and supplies. I don't exactly know just how long we'll be out there, dawn is coming up soon, and the hot-ass sun won't be very pleasant when we make it to the desert.
No wait, scratch that, If, if we make it to the desert.
"Sarge is dead! He's Fucking Dead! They dragged him into the alleyway!". Screamed one of my panicking squad mates, McKinley's RTO.
Hmmm…guess the fear is contagious.
And it's not only the two of us jumping on the panic train. The soldiers around me seem to be having trouble controlling their mouths.
"No Fucking Way"
"They-they're surrounding us! What the hell do we do!?!"
"Head back to the third phase line, we left a team back there, and they had a running Humvee with them!". Hollered back another soldier, this one thinking clear and logical. We all agree as we start sprinting back, staying clear from any dark areas or possible ambush points where any ghouls could be hiding.
Out of the corners of my eyes, I can see a horde stalking us. Slowly, yes, but they are there, dozens of them, are for every one we see, there are two more that we don't. They won't be giving up on us. We can't afford to stop moving. They won't st-
Suddenly and without warning, I trip and fall beneath the earth, as if I just sprung open a trap-door. Darkness seems to consume me as I continue to fall. The world seems to slow down as I fall, after what felt like forever, I land, painfully and into some liquid, wet and warm.
I can't see anything!
My eyes open wide in fear as I begin to search my body for a flashlight, no luck so far.
Dammit! I couldn't have been retarded enough to forget my stupid flashlight!
"Crap!" I cry in anger and then regret when I realize that whatever is down here now knows that I'm here with them.
I can't see shit…and what the hell is that smell!?!
Oh cool, I found my flashlight! Hell yes, now where am I-
My eyes don't recognize my surroundings immediately, but only for a second before I realize where I unfortunately wound up at.
Ok, now I can see shit…literally
I'm in a godforsaken sewer!!!
"Sonofabitch!". I mutter in despair, careful to keep my voice down.
It didn't really matter, because only a few seconds after I said that, the world above me shook with multiple tremendous explosions. They shake the earth around me and the sewer begins to collapse.
My mouth opens to release a swear, but I'm not even fast enough to yell out before I am struck with an immense amount of pain and the world goes black.
Chapter was redone - August 6th, 2009