THEY CAME THROUGH THE SHADOWS

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By J.M. Ringuet

 

 

        Under the twin suns, they turned on their portable flood lights, the point-source LEDs under their guns and the spot beams on their helmets before going in. They entered the wreck of the factory building from the North side, their eyes on the jagged pattern of shadows the suns were painting on the broken ground. There was no roof, gone a long time, swallowed by a storm. No trace of the enemy.

        They washed out the largest areas with light. Nivet, the Electrician, quickly rigged a defense perimeter, until the inside of the place was white with illumination.

        Major Krazyck put two fingers to his battered helmet.

        “Power down squad, we take a break.”

        The eleven of them cut their lights off and breathed out.

        No Shades could enter the zone.

        Lewis helped Meeks unload the heavy com unit she was carrying on her back. They were deep in the South Territories and everything they needed they had to carry. Com was primordial if things went sideways; a quick extraction was their only hope.

        Meeks smiled.

        “Thanks.”

        Lewis liked her from the moment he saw her. Something in her eyes, her dogged perseverance. This operation was garbage. This whole war was garbage. But people like her made Lewis more confident about why he was there in the first place.

        He lit a stick and offered her one but she didn’t smoke. He remembered now.

        Krazyck was giving orders to the two Scouts to swipe the area around the factory. If the terrain allowed, they could spend the night here. The Electrician was listening to him from the side, his face frozen in a mask of tired resignation. It would take work to secure that zone. Lewis never liked Electricians, probably because they depended so much on them.

        The other squaddies cooked a quick meal. They made coffee. It smelled good.

        When the Scouts came back, they had eaten and were resting in the intense artificial glare. Most had lowered their polarized visors but Meeks didn’t and he was thankful he could see her pretty eyes, the network of amused lines radiating from their corners.

        The Major seemed satisfied with the Scouts’ report and he ordered the Gunner and two Troopers to cover Nivet while setting up a wider perimeter. They left reluctantly.

        Meeks and Lewis sat with their backs to the wall. They had laid a portable light on the side to make sure it erased their shadows. The air was stuffy, the dust tasted metallic.

        Meeks was cleaning her mess bowl with one finger, eating whatever was left in.

        “What you’re going to do after all that?”

        Lewis looked at her for a second.

        “After this operation?”

        “No, after the war, I mean.”

        He grinned.

        “Is there an end to that war?”

        He’d been in it for so long now, alternating tours in the field with periods of rest in the North where the skies were overcast and the nights arclight bleached. That’s where the brass was, in their well-lit well-heated bunkers. They ate better than this in the North.

        “There must be,” she said.” All the wars end.”

        “I haven’t thought about it. What I’ll do after…”

        “I’m thinking of moving to Aquila 2. They have farms there, I’d like to do that.”

        “Farming, eh? There are worse things.”

        She waved her arm at the white ruins around them.

        “There’s no worse than that.”

        “Yeah, you right on that.”

        “When do you think it will end?”

        He stared at her more serious, a pained expression playing on his face.

        “It’s not a war of conquest, Meeks. The Shades, they don’t capture territory, they have no use for what they control. It’s a war of extermination. It won’t stop until they exterminate us.”

        She thought about it for awhile.

        “What if we do the exterminating?”

        He took a new stick from his fatigues breast pocket, stuck it between his teeth.

        “I don’t know, Meeks.”

        There was nothing else to say so he smoked in silence and she cleaned her bowl absently.

        The Major came to talk to them, crouching next to Lewis, his gear clinking on his belt and flak jacket. He pushed back his visor, rubbed the rough stubble of his chin.

        “We’re going to spend the night here, guys. And tomorrow we’ll make some new plans with you, Lewis. A cartographer should know where we need to go.”

        Lewis breathed out a pungent cloud.

        “The maps are not what they should be, Major. You’ll need the Geologist to detect those veins with her kit.”

        “Yes. But we need a general direction. If there are more factories like this one that means there is, or was, ore seams. Maybe gas deposits.  Get some sleep, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

        And then to Meeks: “Come with me, we need to radio in my report to the Directorate.”

        She shouldered her com unit and followed him to a corner where the Sergeant and the Scouts were having a quiet meeting. She gave Lewis a secret little wave.

        He smiled, then prepared his sleepbag for the night, putting his visor settings on total blank before lying down. His pulse rifle was by his side and his right hand rested on it.

        Two hours later, no one saw it happen. They were asleep except for the two sentries: Marek, the Gunner and Laeticia, one of the Troopers. Marek went for a piss just outside a breach in the Western wall, and, as he was busying himself, a battery on a static floodlight failed without any alarm ringing.

        A shard of shadow appeared on the ground, and the adjacent wall, just across from Laeticia, but she didn’t see it.

        A long spindly arm, blacker than the darkest black, emerged from the shadow, and between its long fingers it held a sonic grenade.

        The grenade flew and landed just next to the main batteries and emergency generator. It exploded as soon as it touched the ground with a tremendous WHOOOMP!

        The generators blew apart, and suddenly half of the flood lights went off.

        Half of the ground was swallowed up by darkness, and as the squaddies struggled to their feet, fumbling with visors and weapons, they came forth, the Shades. Gangly silhouettes that seemed to absorb light, jagged with plate armour and blades. Few energy guns for they liked their weapons barbed, serrated, nasty sharp, and their fighting close up.

        They were on the squaddies before the first pulse rifle could be fired and they got to work on the Geologist and the Electrician, flat black limbs flailing their terrible steel, blood gushing scarlet in the glare of the floodlights. Laeticia and the Major fired at last, tearing up dark bodies with dashes of light.

        Marek was cut down by a sabre before he could get to his support gun, the steel cleaving his right shoulder blade all the way down to the sternum. The face of the Shade in silhouetted profile seemed to laugh but no sound ever came out of those mouths. They fought and died in silence.

        Lewis was on one knee a second later, shouldering his pulse rifle and firing short bursts with good accuracy. Several Shades were already lying or writhing on the ground but more were jumping out of the wide pool of shadows.

        “We need a light in there!” shouted Lewis, but in the confusion no one seemed to understand. Nivet lay in a pool of his own blood and Lewis knew they were in deep trouble. Hard to survive long without a good Electrician.

        Meeks stood right next to him, shooting her rifle. It was the support he needed. He ran across the other side of the building, making sure to stay in the light, and grabbed one of the big projectors Nivet had set up a few hours ago. It had a battery attached to it. Lewis ran back toward Meeks but before he could plant and orient the light a tall figure jumped in front of him. He could feel its hot breath on his face, hear the tinkling of some ornaments or armour pieces. Meeks didn’t fire for fear of hitting him. The axe the Shade was carrying traced a swift arc and swung toward his head. He ducked but the top of his helmet caught the blow, knocking him backward. As he fell he had the impulse of turning on the flashlight attached to his flak jacket. The Shade hesitated, and then its head exploded in a fountain of light. Meeks didn’t miss.

        Lewis got back up and pointed the floodlight on the gate of darkness the Shades were emerging from, closing it as the illumination erased it.

        He didn’t notice that he had created a secondary cast shadow right where a battery had toppled against a broken wall. From that narrow rectangle of dark suddenly more Shades charged in, moving with speed and efficiency.

        Shades never retreated, never surrendered, they attacked with the quiet control of trained killers and knew there was no alternative to victory.

        When Lewis realised what was happening and directed his fire on this new opening it was already too late; the Shades had burst out behind the two Scouts and the Major and the Sergeant were rushing to the rescue. All were now fighting close quarters with blades, knives, swords and bayonets. Laeticia and the other Trooper, Codrum, were taking careful shots in the middle of the melee.

        The Shades kept coming. Lewis counted more than thirty. Meeks drew a flash grenade and lobbed it right in the shadow gate but it was a brief respite from the onslaught.

        Lewis grabbed one of the bigger flood lights with two hands.

        “Cover me!”

        He ran toward the portal of shadow, training the light at it. The Shades turned their attention to him, but he darted like a running back, sidestepping and rolling out of the arcs of murderous black steel.  He planted the light straight in front of the opening he had accidentally created, washing it out of existence. Then he fell to his knees, sure that the Shades would tear him apart. But Meeks and the two Troopers were picking out with accuracy anyone that was coming close to him. The smell of blood and burning flesh was formidable.

        He stood up, dizzy, and aimed his pulse rifle at the other group. Most of the Shades had been taken down but the Sergeant and the two Scouts were dead, cut to pieces, and the Major was on his knees, bleeding.

        “Quick!” he shouted. “Create a short perimeter!”

        They gathered all the functioning lights and arranged them as well as they could, but the illuminated area was barely covering the inside of the building.

        “As long as there are no solid shadows we should be good!” said Lewis. They tried to ignore that the Shades could now gather right outside and take potshots from cracks in the walls if they had any energy weapons.

        Meeks was also a trained medic and, with the help of Codrum, she patched up the Major and Lewis who had suffered a few cuts. Krazyck didn’t look too good. He had lost blood and was still bleeding. But he gave them clenched teeth grins and thumbs up. With Meeks he radioed a message to the Directorate about their situation but the only response they got was static.

        The charcoal bodies of the Shades, more than forty of them, tangled in death contortions, were already starting to decay. By morning only dust would be left.

        The squad, only five of them now, spent the rest of the night huddled together, half asleep, waiting for the two suns to whirl into the burnished sky.

        At dawn they rushed out of the building, paying no attention to the broken bodies of their comrades who stayed where they fell.

        Loaded with batteries and light set-ups they came out of the ruined building, blinking, gasping for fresh air.

        The plain was undulating under Azraèl and Veneficus, the twin suns. Sand flats stretched out towards a low hill range in the North. That was perfect terrain for them, no shadows. They were careful enough to put portable flood lights on their back and chest to remove their own cast shadows. On the Major orders they set out, going North.

        They walked for several hours, stopping from time to time to radio the Directorate, without success. “Must be a magnetic storm somewhere,” concluded Meeks.

        It was hard going in the dust and the heat and they constantly had to scan for pools of shadows on the ground, any movement on the horizon.

        Lewis and Krazyck had looked at the maps to find a spot suitable for extraction. They had settled on a narrow plateau two days walk away. They didn’t know how they could make it that far in the present conditions. The Major was pale, his determination feigned.

        With dusk fast approaching they looked for a suitable spot to spend the night. They found a small cave in the foothills. They could flood it with artificial light and defend the opening. That was the best option.

        They settled down, ate cold rations in the overly bright rock chamber.

        Meeks couldn’t connect with the Directorate.

        “How is the war going, you think?” she asked the Major.

        “This is not a war as such. We are running operations in the South Territories to identify possible new sources of ore and rare minerals. It’s not a war.”

        “So what about the Shades?” asked Lewis.

        “They are… a hindrance. Enemies? I guess, but we’re not here to fight them, you understand?”

        “I understand shit, Major.”

        Krazyck flashed a pained smile.

        “Well, yes, it’s hard to understand sometimes.”

        They went to sleep, taking turns to guard the entrance.

        Very early morning they were suddenly woken up by Laeticia calling for Codrum. who was on sentry duty.

        He was nowhere to be seen.

        “I just dozed for a bit!” she said panicked.

        They heard sounds outside of the cave, gurgles, and a roar that almost sounded like a laugh.

        “Codrum!” Before they could stop her, Laeticia was rushing outside in the complete darkness.

        Major Krazyck threw himself across the opening to stop anybody following her.

        “There’s only death outside!”

        They heard pulse rifle shots, some metallic clangs. Silence. And then one brief scream.

        Meeks and Lewis aimed their rifles at the night.

        After maybe an hour they realised no one would come back in, not Codrum or Laeticia, and no Shades.

        They waited trembling, unable to sleep, for the world to become bright again.

        They crawled out of the cave like somnambulists, dragging their heavy kit behind them. Lewis did a quick plotting and they walked North, eating while moving. They didn’t see a trace of their missing comrades. They stopped an hour in for Meeks to radio and this time they got a tenuous connection.

        “Unit 73B, Major Krazyck requesting extraction asap! Ambushed 75% personal KIA/MIA. Beacon on.”

        The Major waited for a reply. It came garbled with static:

        “Com received transferred to 6th Rescue Battalion, awaiting approval from Directorate.”

        They huddled around the com unit, Lewis and Meeks scanning the surroundings for an attack. They waited, until:

        “Request approved. Dropship Wurtemberg en route to beacon position asap. Stay safe.”

        Krazyck surveilled the terrain, the jagged boulders casting geometric shadows in the white dust

        “Not safe. Let’s keep moving toward that plateau.”

        They had started their operation with eleven squaddies, now only three of them remained and Krazyck looked like he couldn’t go much further.

        By mid afternoon the suns were at their closest, raining heat on the fossilised landscape. Lewis was on point, Meeks behind him and Krazyck trailing. They had discarded the heaviest floodlights and were just relying on their portable ones and the point-source LEDs on their guns. Any organised assault would surely wipe them out.

        Meeks caught up with Lewis and they walked side by side.

        “I don’t think they want to kill us. The Shades.”

        He looked at her, surprised.

        “They don’t?”

        “I don’t think they hate us. They hate the light. That’s what they want to destroy. The light.”

        He thought about it.

        “And we need the light.”

        “Yeah. We can’t live without it.”

        “If you’re right that means they’ll never stop. Unless we kill all of them.”

        She sighed.

        “You can’t kill nightmares.”

        There was nothing he could say about that. He took out his last stick and lit it.

        “Can we make it to that plateau?” she asked.

        “It depends how fast we can walk.”

        And he turned back to see where the Major was.

        Krazyck was five hundred yards behind and he had fallen face first in the dust.         They ran back, turned him over and saw he wasn’t breathing. Meeks tried CPR. Blood had seeped through his vest, staining his fatigues an ugly maroon. His eyes staring right at the suns.

        “Let’s wait here,” said Meeks after awhile. “The dropship will find us. And we can take him with us.”

        Lewis started to answer but changed his mind, sat on a rock, his rifle across his lap.  

        She radioed the Wurtemberg and they got an ETA of two hours.

        Sitting next to him, she suddenly took his hand. She held it.

        “You know,” he said, “even in that terrible place I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

        She squeezed his hand tighter.

        “Maybe we can go to Aquila 2. The farms.”

        He smiled, and she did too.

        They heard the low rumbling sound of the dropship way before seeing it, first a ripple of heat in the sky, then a grey ugly shape.

        The Wurtemberg came to hover right next to them but they didn’t wait for it to land. They ran under it, signing with their hands for a line to be sent down. The dropship turned on its powerful landing lights to erase its own cast shadow. In the blinding whiteness they saw the line coming down and Lewis helped Meeks tie it to the rescue hook on her vest. She was quickly winched up to the underside of the ship, the wide open doors. Lewis waved at the silhouettes standing beyond.

        He gave a thumbs up when Meeks disappeared inside, safe.

        The line came back down.

        In his haste Lewis had forgotten to turn on the portable light on his back, and now the landing projector of the dropship was casting his shadow, sharp and dark.

        He didn’t see the arms emerge from his shadow.

        He didn’t see the black shape hoisting itself up, a long blade held between his teeth.

        He didn’t see the Shade, standing in his shadow, weapon in hand.

        The darker than black sabre caught him on the side of the neck, just over the vest, half severing his neck.

        He fell down like a marionette without strings.

        And the shadow covered his body.

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       J.M. Ringuet is a British French writer who works as an illustrator and a creator of Graphic Novels such as ‘Repossessed’ published by Image Comics and ‘Fung Gi’ published by Markosia. He has a passion for Science Fiction and Fantasy that started early reading Frank Herbert, Jack Vance, J.R.R Tolkien and Michael Moorcock but also stems from the scifi images of Moebius. He writes short stories and novels in those genres for his own pleasure but  wouldn’t mind seeing them all published and widely read. He currently lives in England with his family.

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      Kevin D. Duncan was born 1958 in Alton, Illinois where he still resides. He has degrees in Political Science, Classics, and Art & Design. He has been freelancing illustration and cartoons for over 25 years. He has done editorial cartoons and editorial illustration for local and regional newspapers, including the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. His award-winning work has appeared in numerous small press zines, e-zines, and he has illustrated a few books.