Beth's PoV
When I was checking up my medkit supplies, a sudden throb of pain went through my skull, my entire mind. My Meta core started to go weird all of the sudden, like it was getting mixed up with an another one. It made no fucking sense, and I had no explanation on this occurrence.
Then, a strange feeling of warmth settled inside my chest.
It was like I had blazing sun settles inside my soul, my body. Finally the headache went away but instead I got the impression that I wasn't alone inside my own fucking head. I bit my lip to hold back to sigh of defeat that would escape my mouth.
I loaded my gun with bullets that I got from the nurse in the squad. Her name was Monica - a nice 19 year old dressed in a sleeveless navy blue jumpsuit with a belt. She had a red armband on her left arm, meaning that she a was part of the Rebellion movement that was sweeping through the whole continent of South America.
I grabbed my tattered backpack and got it on my back. My supplies that I gathered were sparse and limited, so by staying with the Rebellion I had guaranteed food and water. Medical care wasn't the best with so few nurses and doctors but I didn't complain. My stay in the refugee camp in Mar del Plata had taught me enough - some stuff I saw, were etched too deep inside my mind.
I glanced at the two couples dancing with each other. The first duo were Miguel and Blanca, the first dressed in a worn out black jacket and pants and the woman was wearing white shirt dirted with sooth and ash along with long gray pants. They were singing an old melody that I've never heard of. If I remembered correctly, Miguel was 16 while Blanca was 15, turning sixteen in 3 months.
Most of the squad I got assigned to were young people, me included - Monica was also 16, and other couple were both 17. The man was nicknamed "Albatros" with a bright, sincere smile and the woman was often called "Macaw" due to her distinctive blue & yellow hair - according to the rumors circulating across the base, Macaw and Albatros used to work voluntary at the zoo in Montevideo, before the war of course.
And the last member, our leader nicknamed "Spider" - in fact gifted with a Meta, weak Meta but still. He was 19 with a white hair resembling spider webs, always tangled and disheveled. He could control spiders in the range of 15 meters and in the eye sight. He wasn't attending the celebration, because he had other bussiness to take care of - such as the matter of supplies.
They were laughing, dancing in the rhythm of an old melody. They were celebrating, because the harbor of Montevideo was finally recaptured from the enemy. But I felt no joy - in fact, I was pissed because the same people completely ignored the civilan casualties. In desperation, the enemy started using captured people as meatshields - but finally, Miguel created a handmade bomb and the whole operation ended somewhat swiftly.
But I couldn't forget the faces of those civilians, when they were sent to die. Fear painted on them, trembling as they were seeing life flashing before their eyes. And then one, maybe more gunshots - dropped dead as they were nothing more than a fly. No, I didn't cry or grieve them - truth be told, I didn't even know those people. So no, I wasn't carrying in guilt inside my heart - no, I was angered because nothing was done to prevent this from happening in the first place.
Maybe because the Resistance was hoping that the enemy had some humanity left.
In any case, I suspected that they celebrated the recapture of the harbor because the next day they could end up fucking dead, slowly bleeding out to death. Painfully and alone - one of the worst deaths possible. Dying alone.
***
-"Shoot by the cable, Albatros! Monica, get the Gustaf* ready!" - Spider screamed, while machine gun shooting from the hideout
The rain of bullets followed a small tank, until it hit a small piece standing rubble. The enemy was fighting hard to get the harbor back from the Resistance's hands.
My M16 was trailing a small group soldiers moving too fast towards us - I focused my rifle on them and started shooting. First shot - dropped dead in the head. Second, it hit the throat - the man was wailing in agony, dying in his own pool of blood. The third bullet hit the enemy's arm which only slowed him down.
-"Guys, we're running out of ammo and weapons!" - Macaw informed us, stressed
But then an another group showed up, followed by three fucking tanks. They started defending the other team, carrying them out of the battlefield while I was running out of the bullets.
-"Where the fuck is Gustaf, Monica?!" - I yelled
"No need to worry, it's right fucking there! Here, there you have bazooka!" - Monica handed out bazooka to me and the Gustaf to Albatros. He aimed it at the closest tanks that were approaching our hideout through the corpses and the rubble. Then he pulled the trigger - a strong screeching sound pierced the air around us.
The Gustaf hit the target - for few seconds it was quiet. The tanks were lying overturned on the side of the cleared battlefield, with it's vehicles reduced to nothing but a piece of garbage. Then a loud explosion took out the tanks and everyone in the 5 meter radius. I peaked out of my position, and through the window I saw the blood, the mangled bodies and the tanks beyond repair.
Albatros got up from his position, clutched Miguel's hand. He had a big fucking grin on his face, while holding the Gustaf in his right hand.
-"We can do it guys, we can...
He didn't get to finish. A bullet pierced through his chest, followed by a serie of machine gun that turned his body into a swiss cheese. Macaw cried out in agony & despair - in turn Spider shot out a series of bullets towards the right flank. I loaded the bazooka and pulled the trigger in left side of the enemy. But they evaded most of the explosion - and another tank was coming, and we didn't have Gustaf anymore, as Albatros used up the last one.
The rifle of the tank was aimed in left side of the hideout.
-"Everyone, to the right! Lower your fucking head or you'll end up like Albatros!" - Spider ordered firmly but his voice was breaking a bit from emotions
I abandoned my post and started crawling through the bullets piercing the air. One by one we were getting to the right side of apartment - but Monica was in the tightest spot. With Albatros fucking dead, her post was unprotected and sided the most to the left side of the hideout. When we crawled to the right, I noticed that Monica wasn't moving from her spot.
She sided the wall, the glassy eyes and reassuring smile sent to Miguel. He also smiled in the response but his grin was weary, confused.
A tank's bullet got through the hit the left side. And with that, it got Monica. She slammed to the wall with so much impact that her ribs cracked - the right side of her stomach was reduced to burned mass of insides, blood and flesh. She landed on the floor with a crack, her head in unnatural position. Her eyes were empty, devoid of light and life.
Miguel lunged forward to her, but I jumped on his back and pinned him down to the earth. He was violently sobbing, trembling as he was crying out Monica's name - Macaw, Blanca and Spider were hovering in corner of the apartment, grief & shock written on their faces.
-"Stop squirming, you bloody idiot! If you don't stop moving, you'll join Monica very soon!"
Then I heard a voice, inside my head - male, sharp but shocked.
What the fuck is this?!
It was getting too much for one day.