Some More Delta Squad Is In Your House
Cole was glad to be alive, but who had ever wanted to be the last man standing?
He wasn’t, of course. Not the last human, thank fuck, though for a while even that outcome wouldn’t have been a big shock. No, just the last of Delta Squad. But there were others and that made it easier to keep going. Necessary. Nobody should say the Cole Train let his team down, right? Still, as he sifted through the rabble that their last explosive battle with the locust queen had left, he couldn’t bring himself to feel victorious.
They had started out looking for survivors, but all they found was corpses. Eventually, they resigned themselves to collecting dogtags, remains of armour, weapons, shit, just something to bury. Since E-Day, they hadn’t had the time for that. If someone fell, you were scrambling to replace, not honour them. That was no way to stay human, though.
Cole rubbed at the large cut from his cheekbone to his throat that Anya had sown shut for him. His own blood had leaked from various spots and he was pretty sure he was still wearing some of Bernie’s on his armour, too. He tried not to think about it or her chocked-off scream as the bullets pierced her head.
He was glad to have his back turned to Carmine and Anya, his massive body blocking any accidental gaze in his direction, when he leaned over a fallen column to see Sam, half her torso blown off. Not that the two hadn’t seen plenty of death, but your friend’s open chest cavity – that shit wasn’t going to give anyone peace at night, was it? Sam’s face looked calm. Yeah, better leave it at showing them that. Although... an uncharacterstically bitter smile tugged at his lips. Hell, but he wished he’d had as much for his squadmates. Dom’s death was confirmed, but Baird and Marcus, well, he wasn’t going to kid himself that they were still out there and leave it at that and still think about it at night.
Losing Baird had been a blow that even Cole couldn’t pretend to shake off. Maybe not many people understood what he saw in him as a friend – Baird was recognised to be a great tech guy, but not exactly someone to have at a dinner party –, but that really didn’t fucking matter, did it? Wasn’t them who had to stick it out with him. After fourteen years of friendship, he felt lost knowing he’d never hear Baird’s voice deliver remarks as sharp as his tools anymore, wouldn’t watch him ponder some piece of tech like others would a good book and wouldn’t ever glance over at him again, watching him roll his eyes in Cole’s direction about some samey big boss’s speech delivered to the troops. Cole hadn’t known Marcus and Dom that long, on the other hand, but after all the shit they’d been through together, who would start counting weeks? They’d been friends, brothers in arms, too, some of the bravest men he’d ever known. And they were all gone.
Still, dwelling on this didn’t help anybody. Carefully, he tugged off her tags and wrapped Sam up to the neck in the cushion cover of an overturned piece of furniture that laid close. Had a print with little roses on it, too. Damn, she’d have punched him for that. “Sorry about that,” he said, talking to ghosts now. He wiped his hands on the rest of rose-printed cover in his hands and let it drop, preparing to lift her corpse and hoping it wouldn’t break in the middle like an old doll.
Suddenly, he felt nauseous. The heat, maybe, or seeing a fellow fighter gutted like a fish. Should be used to both by now, though. However, the dizziness intensified with a noise like static in his earpiece and Cole found himself falling to one knee. He blinked back black butterflies at the edge of his vision for a second, but was enveloped by the darkness the next.
When he opened his eyes again, he smelled damp earth, grass and air that wasn’t filled with smoke, dust and decay. It was an immediate thought – strange, wrong. He cursed, grabbing for the lancer that was thankfully still strapped to his back and fought to sit up.
The sky over him was the friendly soft blue of a summer evening, coloured pink at the edges. Birds chirped in a nearby tree full of lush green leaves. The grass was studded with orange flowers. Cole stared and held the lancer like a shield for a moment. He didn’t think he’d been this terrified since a giant fucking locust worm had swallowed Delta Squad. Actually – that had been better. That, at least, he’d been able to explain to himself.
-
Kurt had been sitting in said lush tree as the unconscious Gear struggled to his feet. For a second, he watched him, perfectly blending into the shadows as he did, quiet as a mouse. Then, with a slight rustle, he disappeared to land in the tech guys’ workshop, where he knew there was always someone tinkering.
“Meine Herren, don’t call me cowardly, but I think I need some help for a meet and greet. There’s a guy on our lawn who’s around two metres tall and built like three fridges strapped together, caked in blood.” He raised a brow. “And I’m fairly sure his gun has a chainsaw strapped to it, but I couldn’t possibly have seen that right, ja?”