Page 33 of Beast in the Badlands
EMRY
I brace myself against the jagged remnants of the med tent, breath coming in sharp bursts. The air hangs thick with smoke and gunpowder, the acrid scent clawing at my throat. I pull another wounded civilian behind a makeshift barricade, my muscles screaming from the effort.
“Stay down!” I hiss, pushing a trembling man into the dirt, hoping to shield him from the chaos that swirls around us.
Gunfire erupts nearby, a relentless symphony of violence as enemy forces flood our perimeter.
Soldiers rush in, their black armor gleaming like sharks cutting through water.
Mechs stomp forward, heavy-footed behemoths towering over us while aerial drones zip overhead like angry hornets. They descend with ruthless precision.
My heart pounds in time with each shot fired, adrenaline surging through my veins. I grip my rifle tighter, teeth gritted against exhaustion as I return fire, each round fired feeling like a battle cry echoing in this hellscape.
Renn is beside me, a dark shadow against the flickering flames. He moves with lethal grace despite his injuries; his weapon sings a deadly tune as he mows down foes without hesitation. Each shot he fires fills me with an unexpected thrill—a promise that we won’t go down without a fight.
“Emry!” He calls out, voice cutting through the din. “We need to push them back!”
“I know!” I shout back, my voice strained but resolute. I drag another civilian—that same young girl from before—behind cover and turn to face Renn again.
“We can’t hold them forever!” My heart sinks at the sight of our dwindling numbers; civilians huddle together like frightened sheep while soldiers fall one by one.
Renn’s eyes flash with determination. “Then we take out their command center! We disrupt their lines!”
I nod fiercely, swallowing my fear as he gestures toward a cluster of enemy soldiers advancing through the smoke. We have to do something—anything—to change the tide before it swallows us whole.
As we step out from behind our barricade, gunfire whizzes past us like angry bees. I wince but press on, focusing on the civilians still able to fight.
“Cover me!” I yell to Renn before I dive into action again—grabbing an older man who’s lost his footing and hauling him up.
The ground trembles beneath our feet as another blast rocks the area—a distant explosion sending debris flying like shrapnel through the air.
My vision blurs momentarily as panic threatens to overtake me again—but then I see Renn firing methodically beside me, unwavering even amidst chaos. That sight alone steels my resolve; if he can fight through pain and uncertainty for me, then I can do this too.
But then—a new wave of enemy dropships break through the smoke, roaring down from above with engines screaming like banshees hunting for prey.
“Emry!” Renn’s voice rises above the din of destruction as they land hard on the outskirts of our position—the thud reverberating deep within my chest like a warning bell tolling doom.
“We need to move! Now!” His eyes dart between incoming threats and defenseless civilians still struggling to comprehend what’s happening around them.
My stomach twists at what’s coming; they’re not just bringing more soldiers—they’re bringing death itself in overwhelming numbers.
I grip my rifle, breath quickening as Renn's crew bursts into the fray like a pack of feral wolves.
The air ignites with blaster fire and the harsh clash of metal against metal.
I barely have time to register their monstrous forms, their eyes glowing with fury and purpose, before they launch into the chaos.
They move as one, each Reaper a living weapon, slicing through enemy lines with brutal efficiency. Blasters roar and knives glint under the flickering lights of battle, painting the ground red with blood—both enemy and ally. I can’t help but feel a chill run down my spine at their savagery.
“Emry!” Renn’s voice cuts through the mayhem, a command mixed with urgency. “Get them moving!”
I nod, adrenaline thrumming through me as I dive behind cover—a crumbling wall offering scant protection. The civilians stare wide-eyed, caught between terror and necessity as they watch these creatures they once feared leap into action.
“Get your heads down!” I shout to them, pushing one woman who’s frozen in place. Her eyes widen as she glances at the Reapers carving a path through our foes.
A blaster bolt flies past my ear; I duck instinctively. My heart races as I scan for more civilians needing assistance.
Then I see a fierce female Reaper commanding attention amid the chaos. She towers over everyone else, her long hair whipping like shadows in the wind as she takes down an enemy soldier with a swift kick that sends him sprawling.
“Keep moving!” she barks to Renn's crew, voice sharp enough to slice through the din around us.
A human woman by her side raises her weapon and yells back in defiance, “We need to regroup, Nyra! This isn’t over yet!”
She suddenly appears beside me—a blur of motion—as she snaps off a shot at an approaching enemy while keeping her gaze locked on me. “You need to patch them up! I'll cover you.”
I nod, heart hammering in my chest. She stands tall beside me, fiercely protecting my right flank while bullets rain around us like deadly confetti. With trembling hands, I pull out gauze and sealant from my med kit just as two civilians stumble into view—bloodied but alive.
"I'm Ava, by the way," she says, like we aren't one wrong move away from dying.
"Emry," I shout back.
"I know. Renn told me."
The mention of his name sends butterflies through me, but they're chased away as the two civilians try to crawl away.
“Hold still!” I bark at them as Ava fires again, taking down another assailant with deadly precision.
They wince but comply; one holds his arm close to his chest where blood seeps through torn fabric while the other looks too dazed to react. As I work quickly on their wounds mid-firefight—my hands steady despite chaos—I catch glimpses of Nyra moving fluidly across the battlefield.
But even with this fierce crew fighting alongside us, we’re still hopelessly outnumbered. The enemy keeps coming like waves crashing against our fragile defenses.
Another explosion rocks our position; dirt and debris rain down on us. Panic wells up inside me again as I see more soldiers advancing in tight formation—blasters raised high above their heads.
“We can’t hold them forever!” Ava grits out beside me, urgency creeping into her voice.
“Just keep fighting!” I urge back while treating a gash on the first civilian’s arm—every stitch feels like it pulls against time itself.
But even my words taste hollow when faced with reality: slowly but surely, they’re closing in on us again. The weight of despair settles heavy in my gut—the thought that we might lose this fight threatens to swallow me whole.
My hands tremble as fear wraps its claws around my heart; we can't give up now—not when so many lives hang in the balance—but for how much longer can we keep standing?