Page 30 of Beast in the Badlands
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, letting adrenaline surge through me like fire in my veins.
But there’s no time to falter now.
The girl beside me grips my arm tighter as another explosion sends shrapnel flying through the air like confetti made of metal and misery. The world tilts; I stumble backward against the crumbling wall and shake my head to clear it.
“No,” I snap, forcing myself back into focus.
I can’t let them down—not now when they need me most.
With blood-slicked hands, I reach for a rifle propped against a nearby crate, fingers trembling slightly as I pull it close. The weight feels reassuring despite the cold metal pressing against my skin—like a lifeline amidst this torrent of chaos.
“Stay behind me,” I say to the girl as I rise unsteadily to my feet, bracing myself against the wall's remnants for support.
She nods again but doesn’t meet my gaze; she stares at the ground instead as if she can will herself invisible by sheer force of will. A part of me wishes it were that easy.
A blast shakes us again—the very ground feels like it’s tearing apart beneath our feet.
I shift into position at the tent entrance—my heartbeat pounding like war drums in my chest—and peer out at what remains of our camp. Smoke chokes everything in sight; soldiers scramble for cover while others lie still on the ground—some dead, some barely clinging to life.
Every instinct screams at me to flee—to save myself and this girl—but every ounce of resolve tells me otherwise:
Not while someone’s still breathing.
A figure emerges from the smoke—a soldier charging forward without hesitation or regard for their safety. I raise myrifle instinctively but then lower it when recognition hits; it's Milton, one of our few remaining fighters.
“Emry!” he shouts between bursts of gunfire, dodging debris as he closes in on us. “We have to fall back!”
“Fall back where?” I snap back at him before scanning our surroundings once more—our options dwindling with every passing second.
He stumbles forward and gets into position beside me.
“No one’s going anywhere until we get these civilians out!” My voice sounds more resolute than I feel inside—the urgency igniting something deep within me that refuses to be snuffed out by fear or desperation.
Milton grits his teeth but nods sharply before turning his attention back toward what’s left of our defenses while I grip my rifle tighter and scan for any sign of movement beyond our barrier.
We’re outnumbered; we know that much. Each second stretches endlessly as we brace ourselves for impact yet again—the inevitable conclusion lurking just beyond sight.
But still…
I won’t leave them behind. Not now when they need me most.
Another burst rattles through the air—a sharp crack followed by cries echoing throughout what was once a thriving Coalition med zone—and fury ignites within me like kindling catching flame amidst this overwhelming chaos.
I step out from behind cover despite Milton's protests because there’s no backing down now; not when lives hang in balance precariously between fate and courage manifested in each breath drawn in defiance against despair.
Rounding the corner toward open space reveals more figures advancing through smoke—more Red Maw Syndicate fighters pushing forward relentlessly under cover fire from otherspositioned strategically behind barriers erected hastily amongst scattered ruins where memories linger too painfully long beneath scorched earth reclaimed by conflict itself.
My heart pounds as adrenaline floods every inch of me—I shift my weight instinctively while aiming down sights—and pull the trigger without thinking twice about consequence or morality anymore; survival means taking risks now…whatever it takes!
Each shot echoes loudly through chaos surrounding us—each target struck provides brief moments relief even amidst carnage blooming around like dark flowers wilting under duress—with every passing second confirming why we fight.
The sound blends seamlessly with screams rising higher into pitch above violence raging all around us—it becomes intoxicating—a rhythm reminding me why fighting matters even when facing overwhelming odds seems futile sometimes… because hope resides within resilience refusing submission quietly yet powerfully beneath layers armor wrapped tightly over wounds buried deep beneath skin just waiting erupt.
And then there’s her scream piercing through everything else—a reminder why this fight matters most. The young girl beside me huddled close barely breathing.
"Go! Run to the med tent, find Kira!" I tell her, covering her movement as she takes of in a dash.
Another explosion rocks nearby shaking ground again sending debris flying toward us—I barely manage ducking instinctively—but keep fighting back ferociously knowing giving up means leaving innocent souls behind trapped darkness.
