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Friday, October 12, 2012

The Last Stand


(Music is "Never Surrender" By Brand X Music. Play For A Little Mood Music)

It was a legend, a myth. A scary story to keep the children in line. It was never supposed to happen. It was never supposed to come true.

People say there was once life on the surface of our world, but that was a long time ago, before the wretched took over. They numbered in the millions. I knew they'd find us one day. We were the last of what they had to eat.

They were safe, that's what everyone said. We were so far beneath the surface that not even God could find them. That was the problem, others said.

God did find them, and He wasn't happy.

Of course, there were naysayers. There were those who argued that nothing so vile, so wretched could possible come from any loving God. Me? I didn't care. All I knew was that after ten years, the enemy was at  our door.

In one instant, horrifying moment, the room was covered in darkness. We all froze. Moments later a generator could be heard humming, bathing the room in minimal white light. We all glance at one another, our faces ashen, our eyes bleak. We have accepted the inevitable. We will all die today...

But it does not mean we go quietly.

There are twenty of us in total, centered around a plain-looking green table as we choose our weapons. Most of us, myself included, choose an assault rifle and a pistol. I'm big and can carry more than most, so I'm allowed a shotgun. I think to myself that it'll be the last thing I use before I pull my swords, and make my last stand.

"Gimme that." Our commanding officer, the one who organized us, is a tall, wiry, dark-skinned black man. He's in great shape and looks half of his fifty years. One of the nearby soldiers complies, handing him the large assault rifle with the grenade launcher mounted underneath. He slams a magazine into the underside of the weapon and cocks the bolt, readying a round. He then loads the grenade chamber and casts glances around the room.

We're all ready.

"Gotta head count." A voice comes over the loudspeaker, muffled by static. Our commander looks up at the ceiling and speaks with booming authority. "How many, Lou?"
"Million strong, at least." There's a pause as we all take that in. "It looks like they found us, sir."

"Copy that. Begin the evac. We'll hold them off."

We have three more underground shelters we can get what's left of humanity too, but it's only a matter of time.
"Heavy artillery in the back, blades up front." Our commander issues his final orders, "Don't get fancy, cause they don't feel pain and don't care about style." He looks right at me, "Just cut 'em in half or take their heads off. Don't let 'em bite ya, cause you know what happens then. Best end it yourself and save us the bullets."

We all agree somberly.

The entire compound is shaken. The lights flicker for a moment. The struggle to keep our balance and weather the strike.
A second one follows, this one harder, like God's hand itself is smashing down on top of us. It's accompanied by an inhuman, metallic roar emanated by a creature that never came from God. It's long, grinding, and certain. It knows we're here.

I say a quick prayer. I think of my mother, father, and brother.

Our commander issues the order, and we confront the teeth and claws of our fate....


3 comments:

J. M. Strother said...

Daunting odds, indeed.
~jon

estrella05azul said...

Nice flash. And I like your "halloween" #fridayflash logo :)

Avery Tingle said...

Thank you both! :-)