Friday, March 29, 2013

The Story - Sprucing up the End Part


 Now the end has been modified to make it clearer what is going on. Now we know what happened to get him injured/wounded.
Of course, the location of the Colony and the Tropic/Cold Belts are still a mystery but we have to wonder if it might not be better that way. This is where we have to think how much we want to leave to the wonderful imagination of the reader. If we explain every detail then the fun, for the reader, becomes less. The readers need to build their own visual images.
For the same reason we may feel there is no requirement to explain the 'boxes'; clearly they are some form of transportation device but to where? How do they work? Do we leave that to the imagination or does it need explanation?
This is the re-work on the end:


“Objective two is hard. Why? Because the vermin are better armed than we are; they have more money to buy weapons than the Government does and because the High Echelons don’t give rat’s arse if you live or die just as long as, eventually, that lot is cleared. Then the next lot. After that? The lot behind that one until they are all gone. Until we, those that have God on our side and righteousness in our pockets, are all that is left on this green and pleasant land.
“The bit that is behind me is green and pleasant because that much has been cleared by our dead comrades of yesteryear, it has been watered by their blood. That which is behind you is now our job.
Good luck. I’ll see you when you get back. If you get back.”

The gate swung open, we marched through and immediately broke formation, scattering into a loose line abreast.
“Does it ever stop raining?” I asked myself and then recognised the building to my front left. It had a huge faded ‘K’ on the side. Memories of Mum flooded back.
The Trooper carrying the radio fell forward on his face into the mud. As he was falling I heard a ‘crack-slap’, the noise a high velocity round makes. The rest of us also pitched forward, we tried to bury ourselves in the mud to make ourselves as inconspicuous as possible.
Gradually, inch-by-inch, we crept forward until we reached a mound of rubble. It was all that remained of a tenement block.
Whoever was shooting was good. He was probably a senior ganger who had been trusted with a sniper rifle. I often wondered, when I was young, where they bought all these weapons and ammunition.
I scanned the floors going from left to right until the end and then up a floor to scan from right to left. I followed this zig-zag pattern until the seventh floor, third window from the right. The muzzle of a rifle was protruding from it.
I called softly over to the Trooper on my left, “Do you think you can lob a RPG into that window?”
He grinned at me, “No sweat.”
Rolling to his left to take advantage of two large blocks of rubble, he sighted along the barrel of his rifle; the recoil moved him backwards a couple of inches. He grinned again as he watched the familiar spiral of smoke from the grenade.
We all saw the flash inside the room followed a couple of seconds later by a dull thud.
Just to be safe, I scanned the rest of the windows but none of them were open.
I spoke quietly to the guys either side of me, “That will have woken them up. They will have spoken to the people in the next tenement, too. They know they are under attack, they know that they must kill us or die themselves.”
I paused for a few moments and then continued, “I used to live here. These people have no mercy, no compassion. They are not to be thought of as human. At all. Our job is to wipe them out. Let’s do that. Pass that along the line.”
A young Trooper looked over the shoulder of the man on my right, “Some of them might be innocent, Corporal.”
“Innocence does not exist here. For them life is a disease, it clings tenaciously to them; we shall put them out of their misery by providing a cure,” I patted my weapon, “These are the tablets they need.”

We moved forward carefully. At last we were close to the first tenement. Two Troopers went forward and placed charges; neither of them made it back to our lines.
A few gangers, young boys, came out and crawled around the base of the tenement, hiding behind wrecked vehicles but we were able to pick a couple of them off; the third one was just about to remove the detonator when I triggered it. He turned into a fine mist for a split second and then disappeared into the dust and debris from the base of the building. The rest of the tenement followed downwards.
We cowered under our protection of the old tenement and waited for it all to die down.
Strangely, when we got our heads up again there were some people wandering around in the dust cloud. They were staggering and coughing until we dropped them out of our sense of compassion.
I told the boys to wait until dark before we moved again. Four of them had night vision glasses; they stayed on watch as it became darker. By the time it was full dark the rain had turned from being a downpour to torrential.

We snuck out to the second tenement on our list. This was the one with the huge ‘K’ on the side.
There had been no intelligence as to the capabilities of the gangs. My knowledge was old and sketchy at best. My skill had been with a knife but I knew they had better weapons somewhere. Whether they had IR or night vision I had no idea. We just had to risk it; perhaps the rain would cool us down and mask us a bit.

This time it was my turn to go up to the tenement with the explosives. Myself and the young lad who had asked me about ‘innocents’ went up to the building with the rest of the Troop watching and covering. In truth there was little they could do, they were unlikely to see anything in these conditions—we just hoped the rats in their nests would be the same.
We set the charges around five in the morning. I knew that most of the enemy would be asleep or drunk on chemicals by that time. The whores would be tired and sleeping, we just had to watch for the odd guard and, maybe, the occasional one who had got up to use the toilet.
I heard a sharp crack from behind me. Nothing from above but I automatically looked right towards the doorway in case a guard decided to get wet and come out to investigate. Nothing. I relaxed and set the rest of the charges.
It was all strangely quiet. Nobody moved anywhere around the tenement. Somebody reported to me that they had seen a window open and someone had stood in it, urinating. They finished emptying their bladder inside where they lay dying.
We moved back towards the fence. When we were clear of the rubble line I detonated the charges. We all turned and ran, using the dust cloud as cover. We dodged the mounds of rubble until we hit the bracken and bushes line. The path was slippery with mud and wet leaves.
We were less than fifty metres from the fence when automatic fire from one of the tenements opened up. Rounds were smacking into the ground and whining off rocks and old concrete all around us. I turned to give covering fire although I was never quite sure from where the fusillade was coming.
I had only loosed off a few rounds to where I fancied I saw the sparkling of muzzle flashes when a giant fist smacked me on the shoulder.

*

I woke up lying on a soft bed. One of the ‘J’s was taking my temperature. All the ‘J’s were tanned with strange features. They were all beautiful. One of them had told me that ‘J’ was short for ‘Jururuwat’, or something, in their language; I think it meant ‘nurse’ but I’m not sure.
‘J’ was speaking, “You will be all right now, 477. You are with us. We will bring you back to health.”
“We got them. We brought down two rat’s nests and slaughtered the gangs,” I tried to tell her. Perhaps I was boasting, perhaps I just wanted to let her know that what she was doing was worth it—to us, if not for her.
“Now they’ve got you. Rest. When you are feeling better we will test you,” she smiled and stroked me gently. Already I felt much better.
I dreamt of Mum and wondered how many innocents we had killed when the two tenements came down.

I bet they were grateful to us.

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