DOR Chapter 49 – Teachable Moment

Chapter 49 – Teachable Moment

“Lay down,” said Cole. One-hundred meters east of the underground storage room where the rest of the team waited was the remains of what might have been a cistern or a dug-out grain silo. Now it offered a level firing platform with an angle down into the backside of the trench and the dark opening where Guall waited for word from his assassin. Cole burned a charge of his Meteoric Leap ability but didn’t jump. Nona’s prone form began to glow a soft blue color beside him, and the fort in the distance swam in a sea of red. The tunnel entrance remained dark, for now. He’d experimented with his abilities on watch and figured out that he could burn just part of a charge to mark targets If he didn’t jump. Doing so would only drain the reservoir about a third of the way and he wouldn’t get the leap. But, the IFF portion of the skill stayed active.

“In position,” he whispered into his radio. Peering through the scope, he kept his voice soft. “Knowing distance is important. This rifle is zeroed for thirty-six yards, which means the round will actually impact slightly higher than where I aim.”

“That’s weird,” whispered Nona. “Do you want to be this far away?”

Cole glanced at her. “You really don’t know guns, do you? Haven’t you ever even picked one up from a drop here or in Curahee and fired it just to see what it did?”

“Guns can’t drop for me,” she said.

That was… well, just one more item on a very long list of strange and mysterious things about the girl. “I’ve got good ground, good visibility, a stable shooting platform, and a clear lane of fire. This gun isn’t as accurate as Jefferson’s AR-10, but from here, with some practice, it’s practically a scalpel.”

“Guall just heard something. All the demons are facing the tunnel. Making our move.”

At the mouth of the storage room, figures highlighted in blue started to file out into the trench. Roxie and Howie went left, with Roxy giving Howie a leg up over the top of the trench. Besson went right with Nutmeg, taking position further down behind a section of caved-in wall that presented a solid berm.

“Last man,” he announced.

“See how they stay offset so they can cover the entrance without catching each other in the crossfire or getting in our line of fire? That’s good tactics,” said Cole.

Nona watched through a small set of binoculars, saying nothing. A few seconds later, a deep bellow reverberated out of the cavern, followed by shouts and screams and a loud bang. Flashes lit the entrance, and a dark shape with a red glow appeared. Cole squeezed the trigger.

One of the needle-teethed ghouls emerged, took two shots high in the chest, one of which erupted in a burst of orange fungus. It stumbled forward. A shotgun shell took off the top of its head and it fell limp to the trench. Cole fired at the demon behind it, who shouted something and withdrew back into storage room. More flashes from inside, and a wave of dust billowed out. Cole waited.

The next demon to come out was the serpentine mage, Chitu. Cole fired, but missed the slithering, serpentine body. But Besson was ready and let it have a burst from his otherworld machine gun. The shots ricocheted off a glyph that appeared in the air between them, but Nutmeg dashed around the barrier and sank her teeth into the demon’s neck, just aft of its head. The embiggened boxer shook the serpentine demon like it was an old, leather shoe until she broke something, and the demon went limp.

More flashes and more bangs, and finally Cole saw the big guy himself, Deathbringer Guall, squeezing himself through the tiny door. Several barbed tentacles were wrapped around his limbs, and the massive demon struggled against them as it pulled.

“Hey Guall,” said Cole.

The demon’s attention snapped straight to his position, and as soon as Cole felt his rifle’s damage bonus kick in, he shattered those wide, flat teeth with a 7.62 round before sinking two more rounds center mass. Amazingly, Guall kept holding on, shouting in rage and pain as he clawed for purchase on the edge of the frame. But the material was old and rotted from rain and disuse, and it splintered in his grip. The demon slipped down prone and was quickly dragged back. He was a tough bastard, and it was probably good that they didn’t have to fight him outright.

Howie loaded a glowing shell into his grenade launcher and fired it into the dark of the supply room. The rumble of the detonation reached Cole and Nona and dust billowed out of the entrance.

“And that,” Cole said, “is a textbook fatal funnel. Forcing the enemy through a solitary point of egress. Everyone doing their part.” He looked over. “Do you think you could point a rifle at a door and shoot? Even without a combat ability, you can still be an effective rifleman. None of the guys in my platoon were LF attuned, and I still trusted them to cover my back.”

Nona slowly nodded. “I think so, yeah. Doesn’t seem too hard.”

“The hard part is prosecuting engagements in a way that makes it impossible to mess up,” said Cole, pushing himself up and re-slinging his weapon. “You don’t give the enemy anything but bad or worse options. You control the battlefield geometry to your advantage and then strike. Sometimes that means fire superiority and maneuver. Sometimes it means storm with surprise and overwhelming force before they know what’s happening. Sometimes it means pinning them down and calling for indirect fire.”

“Sometimes it means luring a monster to force demons out the only exit,” she said, hopping down from the side of the cistern.

“Now you’re getting it,” said Cole. He looked over at the trench. “Though it rarely goes that smooth. Guall must have thought Vak would have no issue finishing me off. He knows Earth humans rely on their firearms too much. He stopped. “But sending them back beyond the Scar, how long before the intel that Leon is at the fort goes with them and makes it back to the other side of the line?”

Nona paused. “Shit.”

It didn’t change much. They were already on a time limit. Cole checked his watch. Two hours before they were supposed to start their distraction. Just meant they might have to start a bit early, was all. Oh yeah and infiltrate a fort with dozens of armed soldiers and two potentially high-level adventurers.

By the time he crossed the intervening distance, Roxy and Besson had already gone back into the room to clear it of anyone not killed by the—nothings, those demons had just fought amongst themselves. Don’t think about them.

“Clear left.”

“Clear right.”

Cole breathed a sigh of relief. He keyed his own mic. “Two friendlies returning, east.”

Cole stepped over the bodies evaporating in the trench. “Howie, overwatch,” he said, before following Roxy and Besson inside. Things were a mess. Heavy crates were toppled over, spilling rancid rations across the floor. Deep gouges marred the floor, walls, and ceiling—which had collapsed in one corner. Blood was smeared everywhere and several of Guall’s Scarred were torn apart and partially ablated.

“Good job, guys,” said Cole. He found his backpack and dusted it off. He swung it on and grabbed Howie’s, as well, then winced. “Grab the loot and residue, grab your packs, and lets figure out how we’re going to unfuck Moriarty’s op. Roxy, I need you to take a look at my leg.”

Roxy straightened and squinted her eyes, looking around at the remains of the carnage. “We did just make a mess of his local contacts, huh?” She glanced at Cole, skipping his leg to focus on the woman beside him. “I see you found Nona, again.”

Was that an edge of jealousy in her voice?

“Her intel checked out and she probably saved my life. This is no longer a distraction. It’s an extraction.” He looked behind him. “Are you with us, Nona?”

She nodded but looked uncomfortable. Even Nutmeg looked skeptical of the woman. He couldn’t blame them. But they’d come around. If anything, the team was still too small. The Army had trained him for a four-man fireteam as part of an eleven-man squad. It still felt like they were several soldiers short. It limited their options when it came to tackling problems like a fortified position that required fire and maneuver tactics. But they’d work with what they had. Each of them was as powerful as several soldiers already. With time, each would be as powerful as a full squad. And who knows, maybe as much-so as a platoon, or even company.

If they survived long enough.

Cole hefted the second pack.

“Roxy, my leg, please. Then let’s go haul that little twerp home, yeah?”