00036 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
------------------------------------------------------------------------=
# Clown (3), Santa Maria
In line with its successful evacuation, the streets of Santa Maria were relatively clean.
However, the traces of the containment operation were still evident. High walls that were built to keep out mutants posed significant obstacles for people as well. The continuous line of pits and barricades blocked the path forward. Though the way was straight, a direct approach was impossible.
A checkpoint pierced through the barrier. From the shadows, mutants emerged. The distance was only 25 meters and closed quickly. The ranger platoon reduced their speed, never stopping, moving with brisk strides to aim and fire.
Rat-a-tat! Rat-tat!
The mutants at the front fell swiftly. Yet they pressed on with sheer mass. From the start, they were too close. However, this was a ranger group, adept even in close combat.
Crash. At arm's length, they aimed to blow off heads, knocked them over by hitting their center of gravity, trampled over tangled bodies, and shot downward as they moved. Occasionally caught, they only found it annoying. One soldier, grabbed by a mutant, responded with irritation, not fear. Whack! He swung the butt of his rifle to the jaw. The mutant's neck twisted, and it died.
Two mutants charged at Gyeo-ul, one from each side. At the moment he seemed likely to be caught, Gyeo-ul instead leaned into one side. With a rapid movement, he shoved the barrel of his gun into its gaping mouth. Crunch. A staggering mutant reeled from the force of its neck snapping back. It reached for him with wide, glazed eyes. Gyeo-ul planted his feet firmly, swinging the muzzle-clinging creature into alignment with the other. The selector smoothly slid to auto-fire. He pulled the trigger.
Ratatat! Muffled gunfire confined within fractured skulls. Bullets shattered one head and then pierced another.
Gyeo-ul sidestepped swiftly, leaving behind the shattered face of the mutant whose goodbye was a feeble wave.
The swift advance of Gyeo-ul took aback the platoon leader.
The platoon attached themselves to the side of a checkpoint. A door bound by chains blocked the way. They couldn't see beyond it. As they were about to shoot the chains, risking exposure.
*Thud!*
The door shuddered violently. Through the fleeting gap, they glimpsed starved eyes.
"Damn it!"
The soldier pulled back. The platoon leader shook his head and tried to establish communication.
"Drone team! What's the situation?"
"The civilian group has been separated! Twenty-seven are heading south along Broadway! Nine are moving along West Donovan Road! We've lost twelve so far!"
"Where the hell were they hiding?"
The platoon leader muttered a low curse. How long could the civilians last? They needed to hurry. Although trained to keep communications concise, the situation was bleak, with mental exhaustion already accumulated.
During the sporadic exchanges on the radio, intermittent gunfire continued. Despite his speed at aiming, Gyeo-ul conserved his shots, mindful not to exhaust ammunition. He maintained firm control over one direction. With precise, single shots, one mutant per bullet. The reduced hit rate from the silencer was countered effortlessly with technique.
"Reload!"
A soldier called out, signaling a brief gap in covering his direction due to an empty magazine. It took only a second to replace the magazine.
"You and you, grenades!"
The platoon leader pointed to two soldiers. They aimed to breach. Immediately, two arcs soared over the wall. Boom! A rapid tremor shook the ground. The last cries of dying creatures, echoing from beyond the wall, reached their ears. A soldier at the door finally snapped the chain. Metal shards scattered.
The door flew open under a forceful kick, and the mutant leaning against it sprawled backward. Torn open by grenade shrapnel, its back was flayed down to the bone.
From the right side of the road, new creatures began crawling out from the residential homes. They noticed the squad as they peeked out. Aaahhhh! A scream rent the air. Though they appeared similar, each had its own pattern. The desire of the pathogen to spread more hosts recklessly pushed the marionettes forward.
"Keep to the left!"
The left side of the road was separated by more residences and a wall. They huddled together, focusing their fire on one side. However, they were quickly outnumbered.
Two drones flew overhead. Incoming transmission from battalion headquarters.
"Wolf Leader to Wolf Three, take the left route."
Following the directive revealed a comparatively manageable path. Behind them, the mutants chased desperately. The platoon leader signaled with hand gestures. A grenade flew back. Instantly, soldiers ducked low. The reverberating blast swept beneath them.
Now, the battalion headquarters, deploying reserve drones, took command.
"Wolf Three, what do you mean by acting without operation approval?"
"Weren't civilian discovery and rescue already part of the mission? Other teams are too far! The number of civilians is high! Can two pathetic helicopters even manage a rescue? I made the best judgment!"
"Better hope you're proud of it. Be prepared for disciplinary action. Move from North Miller Street to East Sunset. You have three minutes."
"Three minutes?! Hell, where is East Sunset anyway? Sergeant, can you manage?!"
There wasn't a moment to take out a map. The platoon leader glanced at Sergeant Perry, who knew the geography well and nodded.
"We have to sprint for it!"
The special police's shooting skills were on par with the Rangers. Shooting accurately while sprinting at full speed. As soon as his magazine was empty, he immediately drew his pistol. Exceptionally rapid fire dropped five mutants. Even with more charging, he remained focused, trusting the Rangers.
"Wolf Two is entering the battlefield. Wolf One is approaching from the city's north. Helicopter support over the operation area in 40 seconds. Helicopter call signs will be standardized as Firefly. Each platoon's drone team will be designated Fisher One to Fisher Three."
It seemed reinforcements from battalion headquarters were arriving, though they were still quite far away. They weren't expected to arrive on time, even by vehicle. Fortunately, at least one platoon was coming directly from the north.
"This is Fisher Three. The group of survivors moving south has encountered two additional fatalities. They're temporarily concealed at the Weston Motel, six blocks south of Base Point Foxtrot. Yet, they're likely to be discovered soon. Hurry, wolf Three."
"Damn! I am out of breath!"
A massive mixed race corporal gasped desperately. They'd already run over a kilometer, with quite a distance still to go. Navigating the terrain under the stress of combat made it a daunting challenge.
Gyeo-ul felt sweat trickling down his neck. It wasn't fatigue per se, but rather a feeling that his body wasn't responding to his mind's commands. The intense physical exertion was hampering his abilities. His aim wavered, and his shooting wasn't the same as before. So he opted for his knife on the closest mutants instead. He thrust his bayonet into a mutant temple, and watched its tongue loll out. He pulled it out with a snap and didn't lose any pace. He reattached the bayonet under the rifle's muzzle.
A few faster soldiers checked the abandoned vehicles. No keys. There was doubt about whether jumping the wires to start them would be faster than running. The platoon leader told them to keep running, since there was no guarantee the gasoline in the vehicles was still good. The soldiers panted too heavily to speak.
A helicopter approached swiftly. Thuk-thuk-thuk. The rushing wind overtook the platoon in an instant. The helicopter spun, lowering its altitude. Like a battleship readying its cannons, it revealed its side. While the helicopter itself wasn't armed, the soldiers on either side were.
"Get down!"
Someone shouted. Everyone tumbled and rolled. Above them, grenades rained down. Two soldiers fired their 6-round grenade launchers with incredible power. The storm of fire and shrapnel swept over the mutant horde. The hot wind pushed Gyeo-ul's back. As he rolled, he saw a rotten leg. He grabbed it. It was an ankle. He yanked himself up.
Urgh!
The mutant with the seized ankle had its leg split in two. The boy drove a bayonet through its glaring face.
The helicopter, having completed its fire support, swiftly ascended. Apparently also sweeping the other side, Gyeo-ul peeked out to find the path wide open. The helicopter flew straight toward the group of survivors.
The remaining distance was about 200 meters. The densely packed residential area quickly blocked the path that had initially seemed clean. Mutants crept beneath half-open garage doors, jumped from rooftops, smashed through windows. Ducks lined up to fill the streets.
It was inevitable. Sergeant Perry changed course again. Even if it involved a detour, avoiding confrontation promised to be swifter.
"Warning to Wolf Three! Boogie Three sighted at 11 o'clock!"
The drone team's panicked cry.
The house exploded. When the massive form crashed through, its destructive power rivaled that of an artillery shell. The beast that had breached five houses targeted the disoriented platoon. The bellowing Grumble. The sound seared into their souls. Its maw gaped wide. Gyeo-ul reflexively fired. The beast staggered.
A brief but crucial reprieve.
"Injuries reported! Cover fire!"
The desperate cry from a corporal. Shrapnel from the burst housing had turned five soldiers into a bloody mess. Two found themselves in the Grumble's melee range, just as it recovered and tightened its jaws for a close-range attack.
The support weapon gunner's firing seemed to be ignored by the Grumble, with its rock-hard fists simultaneously smashing two people downwards. Crash! It sounded like bones crumbling, mingled with stone fragments.
"Noooo!"
The bloodshot sergeant stood defensively, explosive in hand. A suitable range. As the Grumble predictably roared, he lobbed. At the same time, a rocket pierced the roof of the Grumble's mouth. Someone had picked up the discarded launcher. Gyeo-ul saw it and claimed it. 「Firearms Proficiency」 applied at 29% effectiveness to the weapon, but it was enough.
A rocket that could pierce steel penetrated deep into the tender insides. Boom. the Grumble's head swelled. Two seconds later, the grenade lodged in its esophagus detonated, too.
The Behemoth collapsed to its knees, releasing a frothy spur of blood.
Gyeo-ul tossed aside the empty launch tube. A mutant hit by it toppled, only to be finished by another soldier.
Two injured soldiers fared better than expected. Numerous bleeding points, but no lethal injuries. But one soldier was worse off, with splinters piercing his abdomen.
Amid the emergency care being rendered, unexpected reinforcements arrived.
"Dex? How did you get here?"
The platoon leader's expression showed his surprise. The squad left behind to protect the circus team had caught up.
"Aren't they soldiers too? I told them to take care of themselves!"
The squad leader bravely retorted while launching a firefight in all directions. The support weapon gunner properly set up the machine gun, mowing down hordes lured by the Grumble's call.
However, their numbers strangely kept increasing. The platoon leader reached out to headquarters.
"Damn it! The path is blocked! Headquarters! One severely injured soldier! Requesting evacuation! Can we get vehicle support?! Send us the location to regroup!"
"Wolf Three, fall back."
"What did you say?!"
"A new group of mutants has entered from the city's south-central area. You have no secure access routes from your current location."
"Hold on..."
"That's an order. Even if you attempt a breach, you'll run out of ammunition."
The battalion commander was firm. The battlefield observed from above was perceived as disadvantageous. It indicated a situation worse than the one seen on the ground. Wolf Three, meaning the 3rd platoon leader, gritted his teeth.
"This is Firefly Two! The landing zone is too hot! Cannot descend!"
In the nearby sky, a tense scene played out. A helicopter attempting to lower for survivor rescue was narrowly missed by a car hurled by the Grumble. The embarked soldiers mounted a smoky counterattack. Yet it was futile against a creature with superior resilience. Vital points had to be targeted.
Another Grumble flung an infected mutant. The airborne, flailing mutant collided with the rotor blades. It was cleaved in mid-air, its innards raining down. The second and third mutants followed in ballistic arcs. Eventually, a ninth mutant, thrown by the Grumble, grabbed a soldier's leg hanging from the helicopter. The soldier clung on desperately, but still got bitten on the calf. He was infected.
In despair, the soldier hurled himself out of the helicopter. A 30-meter free fall. To those waiting below, it was a feast from the sky. Two died under the bountiful delivery, and the rest descended to consume. Apparently, the soldier had pulled a few grenade pins before plunging, resulting in a resounding explosion.
"Fisher Three down. We're out of fuel."
The first drone dispatched had crashed, its fuel precariously low from the onset.
The platoon leader was eventually swayed by the string of setbacks. Headquarters' repeated urgency for withdrawal reinforced the decision.
The mission had reached a juncture. Retreat promised safety, while advancing entailed peril.
Clacky's Corner:
Damn, it's action packed.
Sometimes the flow is slow, but when there's action, there is action.