We have several patrols combing Rohania for the perpetrators of this attack and I’ll keep you updated with any new information my office receives in the coming hours.
Commander Augustus set the message down on his desk softly, and leaned back in his chair to catch his first view of the Battle of Thermopylae for the day. He had the painting from his personal office replicated and hung on the wall of his offices at both the CRK headquarters and the administrative offices.
He stared at the image of the few hundred Spartans battling an army of thousands of Persian warriors. For the longest time Augustus had believed the citizens he was trying to protect were like those several hundred Spartans, strong, loyal and selfless. But it was when he received messages like this, he began to question if this was delusional.
State employees had everything they needed: clothing, housing, food, and relative safety. If they wanted to find a wife or husband, they could simply apply for one, and receive someone that matched them perfectly. So why did they continue to try and escape?
This was not the first time Augustus had seen a note like this, and it wouldn’t be the last. And as he had in the past, he would forget this traitor. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed in into the fireplace, watching it burn slowly in the flames.
Time: 10:01 a.m. February 26, 2071.
Location: Nuke Valley. The Wastelands
Creo sucked in a lung full of air and held it, wrapping his hand around the end of the rifle and crawling to the edge of the boulder. The cold wind of the morning bit into his jacket, but he did not flinch. He placed his eye against the scope and glassed the valley below, searching for Ajax. The ash and dust swirled violently over the cracked red earth, blurring his vision.
He sniffled, lowering the scope and pulling the bandana down from his face, wiping a cold strand of snot from his nose. Then he brought the familiar scope back to his eye, squinting to survey the valley again.
The scope revealed familiar sights: sun bleached bones, rebar protruding out of cracked concrete, and the scattered segments of road in places the wind had not covered the blacktop with dust, but he had lost sight of Ajax.
He maneuvered to his left to get a better view. The scope brought the lead raider into focus. Creo zoomed in further, magnifying the man in the cross hairs. An ugly tusk like bone hung off his helmet. His naked chest was decorated with bones splintered and broken, only barely covering a scar running the length of his torso. He was a bulky man, dwarfing the other raiders with his thick frame.
Creo took another deep breath and felt the hard metal of the trigger, massaging it with his well trained fingers, wanting desperately to take the shot. It was the type of shot snipers hoped they never had to make—out of viable range, with an unpredictable wind and limited visibility. He wasn’t even sure he could make it if Obi ordered him to do so.
He rotated the rifle back to the right, glassing the valley again for Ajax. He tilted the barrel up slowly, combing the last stretch of blacktop where he had seen him. His crosshairs came to a stop on the concrete foundation of an old house, rebar extending out in all directions like branches from a dead tree. He zoomed in some more, magnifying the foundation, so he could see the cracks crawling up what was left of the small wall. And there he was, resting his back against the inside wall, peering out every minute or so at the approaching raiders.
“Thank God, he has seen them,” Creo muttered over the wind, pleased Ajax had sensed the danger following him.
Creo rotated the rifle again, taking in a breath and lining the cross hairs up with the raiders. They were on the black top now, about one hundred yards from the foundation, quickly closing in.
“Shit, he’s a sitting duck.” Creo said, lining the cross hairs back up with the pack of raiders. He gripped the rifle harder and wiped his exposed nose with his elbow.
He watched helplessly as the raiders barreled down on Ajax’s location. The dust from their horses swirled behind them, mixing a collage of red and black ash into the air like a trail of dark blood. A howling wind was beginning to pick up, clouding his view of the raiders honing in on Ajax. Through the wind he could hear something else. His ears strained to hear it, but the wind was too loud. He hustled further out on the ledge, trying to get a better view of Obi’s position, stumbling over the rock and climbing quickly to a new position.
The noise broke through the wind again, a buzzing sound. He paused, clawing at the sharp rock, making his way higher. The sound was familiar, something he recognized. A sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the very hum.
“Scorpions,” he cried, stumbling over the rocky surface again, making his way up higher into the rock formation for a better view.
He knelt down and brought the scope to his eye again. Sure enough, a trio of Scorpions came out of the west, racing over the hard cold ground. They tore onto the blacktop, a thick cloud of dust exploding from behind their oversized tires.
The raiders weren’t after Ajax. They were trying to escape into Nuke Valley.
He paused, listening to the scream of their mini guns erupt over the wind, before kneeling to watch the slaughter. The riders were quickly cut down, the CRK bullets tearing through the men and their horses, sending chunks of flesh and body parts into the air. Within seconds all of the raiders except the leader were dead. Somehow he managed to dismount his horse. He stumbled towards the foundation where Ajax was hiding, a thick trail of blood flowing from his wounds.
The trio of Scorpions surrounded the man, smoke crawling out of their silent barrels. Creo watched him totter back and forth before finally collapsing onto the dusty earth next to the concrete wall.
The Knights must want him alive.
Minutes passed and the man lay in the dirt, motionless. One of the Scorpion doors opened and a Knight stepped out into the dusty wind, pointing his rifle at the fallen raider. He walked towards the man cautiously.
Creo watched through his scope, blinking just in time to see the raider jump to his feet and face the Knight.
“What the…” Creo whispered under his breath.
The raider stagger backwards, reaching for a pistol tucked in the back of his pants. A shot rang out over the wind, loud enough for Creo to hear it faintly.
The raider fired again, and again, watching the bullets ricochet of the Knight’s thick armor. Before long the pistol was empty and the raider fell to his knees, reaching in his pockets for more bullets. The Knight approached him cautiously, his rifle pointed down at the man’s face.
A blast of wind hit Creo, startling him. By the time he turned back, the Knight was firing on the raider. The bullets tore through his soft flesh and bone, splattering the wall where Ajax hid with bright blood.
The raider crawled across the dirt, clawing towards the Knight. For several seconds the Knight stood there, watching until the man reached his armored foot. Just when the raider made a harmless swipe, the Knight unloaded his weapon on the man until he was nothing but chunks of red meat, splattered across the dead earth.
Creo turned. He couldn’t watch the slaughter any longer. Not even a raider deserved to be desecrated.
Finally he took a long deep breath, watching the Knight climb back into his Scorpion. The trio peeled off the red cracked dirt and tore on to the blacktop, zipping away from Ajaxs’ location.
Creo dropped the scope and rested his back against a sharp rock in relief, swiping beads of sweat off his forehead. For now the danger was over, but Ajax still had a long way to go through the radioactive valley.