BioHaz: A Beginning

[herrshuster]

This is the first paragraph of a short story called BioHaz. It's the first in a series of several dystopian stories, but after reading a few of the stories on here, i decided to just post the first paragraph here and attach the rest for you if you want to read it. Actually, after seeing the file size, just email me at: if you want the rest.



Thump. The water rippled.
Thump. The vibration sent oscillations through the small pool of life-sustaining liquid.
"Probably eight-foot MWP, anti-tank emplacement."
Thump. The orange-suited man rose, standing form his kneeling position.
"Five miles away." He addressed his comrades, suited in armor. This armor contained everything necessary for life: food, sleeping bag, weapons, grenades, and saws. Thick visors covered their faces, and their body was similarly encased with plastic-lead compounds. Each of them bore a strange symbol on his arm: a yellow circle with a black circle in the middle. On all sides of the circle were three black triangles. In the men's hands were strange weapons. They were based around a green tank, out of which came a nozzle, trigger, handle, and stock, all black steel. On the soldiers’, for that is what they were, backs, were similarly shaped green tanks. These, however, covered nearly their entire backs. The orange-suited man studied the landscape. For miles, ruined buildings covered the earth, sitting next to vast piles of ash and rubble. Occasionally, a rat would dart from the safety of one building into the next. Only the constant vibrations reminded the man that life existed on this barren planet, the one called Gaia.

[herrshuster]

I have been asked to put it on the forums, so here:

Thump. The water rippled.
Thump. The vibration sent oscillations through the small pool of life-sustaining liquid.
"Probably eight-foot MWP, anti-tank emplacement."
Thump. The orange-suited man rose, standing form his kneeling position.
"Five miles away." He addressed his comrades, suited in armor. This armor contained everything necessary for life: food, sleeping bag, weapons, grenades, and saws. Thick visors covered their faces, and their body similarly encased with plastic-lead compounds. Each of them bore a strange symbol on his arm: a yellow circle with a black circle in the middle. On all sides of the circle were three black triangles. In the men's hands were strange weapons. They were based around a green tank, out of which came a nozzle, trigger, handle, and stock, all black steel. On the soldiers’, for that is what they were, backs, were similarly shaped green tanks. These, however, covered nearly their entire backs. The orange-suited man studied the landscape. For miles, ruined buildings covered the earth, sitting next to vast piles of ash and rubble. Occasionally, a rat would dart from the safety of one building into the next. Only the constant vibrations reminded the man that life existed on this barren planet, the one called Gaia.
The city whose ruins he stood on was Los Diablos, and there were few who remembered its original name. The Angels. How ironic that the city they fought and died on was named after heavenly beings. Los Angeles, they had called it. The spelling was in a foreign tongue, now lost to time as well. The only language anybody who was anyone spoke was Basic. Originally, it had been called English, but as that culture, too, was bombed from the face of Gaia, a new name was in order.
Bombs. As the orange-suited man again studied the land, slowly turning to face the new horrors, he cringed. The nuclear winter had come, nations bombing nations over petty grievances. The only neutral nation remained Switzerland. Now everyone’s hope was to reach Heaven on Gaia, before Heaven in the sky. The oceans had been evaporated, leaving the air perpetually humid, such that drinking was unnecessary, one only had to open his mouth and drink a glass of water.
Kevin Heathcliffe, for that was his name, turned to his men and studied them. Pyro, Hawk, Sludge, Greens, they all had their nicknames. His was Cap. Always Cap. So informal, so cold. He was their captain, and could never socialize, joke, or be friends with them. They though his heart was as cold as the deaths he designed for his enemies.
The Enemies. They were humans in the strictest sense of the word, cold, cunning, deadly, and unmoving. As equals, neither could gain on each other, but Kevin’s army had less resources. But more heart.
“We’re moving out now,” using the tone of voice he reserved for commands. Sharp, punctual, and commanding.
“Sir.” Pyro and the others responded, in the same deathly tone of voice. The team scuttled into the nearest building and hid, awaiting the signal from Kevin. On his wave, they scampered into another building, and another, slowly tracking towards the Mounted Weapons platform. The troops called them Mechs, short for Mechanized Infantry. Some say these machines stole our hearts. Kevin silently thought. I say they stole our very souls. This was an eight-footer, a slight challenge for the battle-hardened 651st battalion of the New Order. Eight feet did not stand for the height of the Mech, but the length of its gun. Eight footer was higher-end, with three feet being the shortest. At last the crew came within sight of their target. Rising about twenty feet into the air, this human-shaped monstrosity bristled with weaponry. Plasma guns adorned its waist and BioWaste guns its arms. Its right arm, perpetually supported by its left, held a great tube. Out of this tube came the weapon that caused this destruction: A four-foot long, tube launched, automatically sighted, radio guided, heat seeking, two hundred kiloton atomic rocket. These Mechs were the scourge of Gaia. Fortunately for the 651st battalion, they were not hard to take down by manpower.
“Pyro, over there!” he yelled to a member of his team. He lept at the Mech and grabbed onto the ladder. Hanging, he pulled a diamond-toothed saw out of his pack and dove it into the Mech’s body. Realizing its peril, the Mech shook and jumped, each mighty leap taking it dozens of feet in the air and crashing back down with an earth-shattering crunch. Kevin hung on for dear life, still sawing. As the blade made a complete circle, he tossed a BioSludge grenade in and lept into the air, activating his jets. In mid-air, he turned to see the Mech. For a second all there was were screaming voices, and then the Mech pulsed once and landed on the ground. With an air of finality, it shriveled, becoming a 500-kiloton sphere of metal one foot in diameter, green gas slowly leaking from the remnants. Kevin said a silent prayer for the perished souls and turned and slowly walked away.

“I’ve seen worse,” the red-haired man said. His name was Marvin Alfred Rodriguez EnSalmio the third, but most everyone called him Pyro. And even as he sat, flicking his lighter, a fire burned in his eyes. Flame was where he lived and what he enjoyed. His suit, a deep red, was equipped with a flamethrower, but lacked a cooling system, as the inhabitant maintained a 561.3 degree temperature, making him able to burn things with a touch. “We’ve fought tougher. Good job, Cap, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Kevin was unemotional. As a Captain, he was never expected to show emotion. Los Diablos was a tough place, and the men were expected to be even tougher. Luc spoke up. A balding Frenchmaan in his early twenties, he was the mentor of the group and had a maniacal obsession with water, his body being 90% that substance. He had a blue suit, armed with a high-pressure water cannon.
“Good job, team. The Humans won’t be bothering us again.”
Kevin couldn’t stand it anymore. “Alright. Fine. Call them the Humans when you’re alone. But around me, I only want them to be enemies. I was on their side until I became a Maan, and I will always remember them. Don’t call them Humans. We are all humans.”
“Right, Cap.” Enigma spoke. Enigma was Kevin’s favorite. A tall Maan, he had curly brown hair and an innocent complexion. He was normally not unsettling, but he had a habit of turning invisible at the most annoying times. He was the team’s CipherMaster and all-around programmer, with a tendency to “modify” suits at the most perplexing times.
Oscar, the BioWaste expert, was one of a few Viking Maen left in the world. He was housed in a dark green suit with horns protruding from his helmet. Perpetually dirty, he exuded a nuclear field and hat a tendency to kill rats by touching them.
BioWaste was the world’s leading weapon. In “pure” form it could reduce a man into a screaming pulp within seconds. As a grenade, it exploded, covering everything within a 3-meter radius with goo, suddenly solidified, and then, as a result of the chemical reaction, all air was suddenly sucked out of it and crushed anything left within. BioSludge was a powerful neuro-toxin, killing anything it touched. However, as a string form, it was excessively adhesive. Thus, the men’s suits contained a setting for shooting strings of it, making them like spidermen. Both the chemicals were designed in the late 3030’s by a brilliant scientist named Eshenkel Quinley. Obsessed with the problem of growing nuclear and bio-hazardous waste, he proposed a solution: fight with it. Now, 30 years later, Gaia lay decimated at the decision of a Norwegian scientist.
“Ohhhhh… I love sludge,” Oscar sang. “Anything nuclear or burning or killing.”
Kevin sighed and crawled under his sleeping bag’s cover and went to sleep.

He woke the next morning to the sound of rustling feet and the mechanic whirring of suits being put on.
“Wake up, wake up!” Pyro yelled in his ear.
“What?” Kevin slowly rose to his feet and looked around. His crew was scrambling around madly.
“Someone’s here!” Kevin rushed to his suit and jumped in. If no one was firing, then they must be friends. As the hermetically sealed suit sealed around him, he gasped, as he always did at the sharp rush of pure oxygen coming from the tanks. He waited ten seconds for the onboard computer to resume and took off running towards his colleagues, already on their way. He jumped, engaged his boots, and soared to the top of a building for a better view. From his vantage point, he could see several dozen unsuited maen coming toward their encampment. Kevin sighed in relief. These were not enemies. He leaped down from his perch and ran toward the intruders. He lifted his facemask as he approached.

[herrshuster]

“Who are you?” He asked, still slightly wary.
“We are a group dispatched from the Distribution of Underground Materials Base.”
“Is there a shorter word for your center?”
The maen looked sheepish. “Well. You can call it DUMB for short, but don’t tell anyone.”
Kevin allowed himself a small chuckle. “All right, you DUMB men, what are you here for, and why with no protection? Just some DUMB assignment?”
“No.” He was dead serious. “We’re here to see if you’d help us in some “DUMB” Operation.”
“I’ve got a good one.” It was Enigma, just appearing from behind Kevin. “How about a DUMB Operation is a DUMBO?”
Kevin sighed. “No, Enigma. No more puns.”
“We wear no suits because…”
“You’re DUMB?” Enigma interjected.
“All right! Enough!” A soldier aimed his gun, but Enigma was already invisible.
“Sir, you’ll have to pardon him. He has ‘Special Needs’.” Kevin fell over backwards from a sudden punch.
“Because we find we’re a lot harder to trap, especially when we’re just delivering messages.”
Kevin rose. “And what is this message?”
“We’ve run into some minor problems at the DUMB.”
“Ya think?” A voice came out of nowhere.
“Enigma,” Kevin started. “Anyway, what kind of problems?”
“About a month ago, we intercepted a radio broadcast preparing an invasion of England, which, as you know is our headquarters. Unfortunately, that very day, our only mech squadrons vanished without a trace near the Bermuda Triangle. We later learned that Human destroyers had pushed them back into the Triangle itself. All were lost.”
“Why does this concern us?” Kevin asked, still puzzled.
“We have heard of your legendary exploits, and we are trying to gather everyone we can to us in this time of need. We need you to help us, even if you aren’t as good as the legends would suggest.”
“We’re not, whatever legends you have heard. But we’ll come.”

The small band marched quickly across the ruins of Los Diablos, passing many a fallen mech on the way, evidence of the squad’s brutal killing efficiency. Finally, walking over the ruins of a small park, once known as Burton W. Chase Park, they reached Marina del Rey, where a small skiff was anchored in the shallows. The party boarded it and took of, skimming over the water at hundreds of miles per hour.
The skiff continued on until, many hours later they reached London. Again on foot, they traveled to a small town called Esher just outside of London. Their guide, who by now they had learned was called Anton, led them into an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. They stopped and waited for the rest of their party to catch up. Anton led them into a room near the back and pulled a lever, long rusted with age. Tracing his steps back across the room, he entered a small room and knocked twice on the floor. A small panel slid open and he entered, motioning for them to follow. As they climbed down hundreds of rungs of ladder, the heat grew and grew and all but Pyro had their suits at high AC. Finally, they reached a large room. It was filled with hundreds of men, hundreds of machines, hundreds of blinking lights, and hundreds of screens. Kevin followed Anton over to a tall man standing at a computer, studying particle physics of nuclear fallout. He turned as Kevin approached.
“Ah. Kevin Heathcliffe, I presume?” the man was well-spoken with a hint of British accent.
“I am. And you?”
“I am Rodgerson, Wilf Rodgerson.”
“If I may ask, what ‘change’ prompted you to join this group?”
The man nodded. “That you may. But it is not the answer you expect. I am not a Maan, simply another human being biased against prejudice. And you?”
“I can see things before they happen. Precognition, you might call it. I could tell what you’re saying five seconds from now, but I can’t read lips.”
“Ah. And your friends?”
Kevin spent the next few minutes explaining his friends and briefing Wilf on their situations, then Wilf theirs.
“As we see it, the enemy is going to attack us one week from now, and there is nothing we can do to stop them once they’ve come.”
“What must we do?”
“But there is one thing I can not help you on. I do not know what you must do. I do know that the enemies have superior forces and armor.
“That’s great. Just great. Let me talk to my squad.” Kevin walked slowly over to the rest of his group, standing in a corner discussing something.
“Guys?”
His group stood up straight. “Yes?” it was Pyro.
“We’ve been handed the world. If we take it, we may die. If we let it drop, then Maen may never again see the light of day.”
“With ya all the way, chief.”

“This is a G-241c. It is the peak of BioSludge pistol technology in the world today. It ha been clocked at over five hundred miles per second. It contains a shell of compressed BioSludge. If it hits a man, he’s dead within seconds.” Lieutenant Schmitt was briefing the small squad on the weapons they’d be using.
“Here’s your rifle, the A-279e. It fires compressed BioSludge bullets at a rate of about…twenty-seven slugs a second, well fast enough to kill anyone around you not wearing protective armor. If you’re really in a pinch, you can try setting the power dial up. It can slice though about three inches of titanium alloy, which is what most of the mechs you’re fighting will have. On the bottom, you’ll not we have a second trigger.” The Lieutenant motioned toward a small trigger near the bottom of the handle.
“This will be your main grenade supply. The BioWaste in here is very volatile, so use with caution and be at least 100 meters away before you fire. The max range is about 500 meters, so I don’t think you’ll ever get that close.”
“Is that all we’ll be taking?” Oscar asked, obviously disappointed at the lack of weapons.
“No. You, as our BioWaste expert, will be taking several pounds of raw plutonium with a couple BioWaste triggers. Use sparingly, as they have a blast range of about one mile per pound.”
“Where do we find ‘em?” Oscar was excited.
“However, each of the rest of you also has special weapons according to your mutation. Pyro, you have a flamethrower. All it does it take your body heat and amplify it and set some kerosene on fire. Luc, here’s a couple grenades. Toss one of these into a crevasse and it will fill it with water. The catch is that in three seconds, it will implode and crush everything inside. Enigma, here’s a sword.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not. It can also turn invisible. It’s super-heated, so it should be able to cut through any armor they have out there.” He motioned to Kevin.
“Kevin, I’d like to speak with you alone.” Kevin followed him into a back room.
“What is this about?”
“First, here’s your gun. It’s a silenced sniper with a 400x zoom. Kills in one shot. With your precognition, nothing should avoid it.”
“Thanks. There’s something more you want to tell me than how to kill men. I already know how to.”
“You’re right. On both accounts, even.” The Lieutenant sighed. “If you fail, the world is lost. Prejudice and hate will win. If they are not removed forever, there will be more dead. The world will fall to greed and hate. It happened once. It must not happen again. Kevin, you must not fail. You cannot turn back if you lose a man, even if your entire squad dies. The world rests on your shoulders.”
Kevin Heathcliffe walked out of the door, his burden-weary shoulders sagging.

Two days, fourteen hours, fifty-two minutes. So much had to happen in so short. Kevin scanned the skies with his rifle. No sign of life…there! He zoomed…100x…200x…300x…400x…fire! One more kill.
The ground was barren for miles around, pock-marked with craters from BioWaste explosions. On a hill far beyond he could see the very top of a structure. He zoomed in on the building and looked at the top. The town of Bethune’s military processing center.
“Come in.” He keyed his radio.
“We’re receiving you.”
“Does the name Bethune mean anything?”
“Is that the town you’re approaching?”
“Yes.”
“Good. This is their main production facility. It is also where our intelligence reports the strike is coming from. Take this out and you’re done. There are about twenty storehouses of mechs in the base.”
“Over and out.” Kevin switched off the headset.
“What’d he say?” Luc asked.
“The town ahead is our destination. Oscar, do you have the explosives?”
“Rodger, captain.” Oscar stepped to the front.
“Enigma, you go first, and infiltrate the perimeter. Signal us when you’re done.”
“As you wish.” The man disappeared and only soft crunching could be heard fading into the distance.

[herrshuster]

Enigma panted. He had been traveling for twenty minutes and it was hot in his suit. He switched the AC on and ran further. Finally, he reached the perimeter of the base. Surrounded by miles of barbed wire, the massive structure rose hundreds of feet in the air. He pulled out his sword and switched it on. There was a soft humming and a slight distortion hung in the air. He swung at the wire. Before him, the barrier broke effortlessly, cut in half. He swung again and cleared a hole wired enough for a maan. Running to the next barrier, he swung the sword in a broad arc and cut a hole in the thick steel wall. Cautiously, he crept into the building, sheathing his sword.
For dozens of meters, he crept along, meeting no one. Finally, he keyed his headset.
“Enigma to Madman. Come in.”
“Madman here. What is your status?”
“I’ve infiltrated the perimeter. Madman, Torch, Aquaman and Dumpster are free to continue.”
“Rodger that. Madman out.”
Enigma ran back to the exit, awaiting the squad’s approach.

Kevin ran as quickly as he could along the dirt path on the way to the base. Just before the final rise, he suddenly dropped.
“Down!” He hissed. His squad obeyed. Kevin crawled to the top of the rise and looked down. In a small hole cut in the wall, he could see Enigma waving, and then he disappeared. Kevin scanned the building for cameras or guns. Finding none, he proceeded, still prone, to the fencing. He looked up, suddenly bound by some impulse. In the sky hung a helicopter. Out of it climbed a soldier on a rope, descending rapidly. Kevin pulled his gun up and fired. The soldier hung limply as the helicopter sped away. Kevin zoomed in again. In his mind’s eye, the helicopter turned around. He fired in back of it. As he had seen, the copter turned around, directly into the path of the bullet. The fuel tank exploded and the chopper sunk like a rock.
But all Kevin heard was Luc’s screaming, then silence.
“He’s dead.” It was Pyro’s voice over the com. “The chopper fell on him.”
Kevin hung his head in shame.
“Get over it, man.” It was Oscar. “He was French anyway.”
Kevin lifted his head slowly. “He was still a Maan.”
“Sure, I guess. But even if you killed him, don’t let him kill us by making us wait around. Let’s get going.” The company ran forward into the small hole where Enigma waited, into a hallway, dozens of feet tall.
“I’ve been waiting forever. Sorry about Luc.”
“It’s all right.” Kevin was almost teary. “We need to carry on. Pyro, which way?”
“I don’t know. Luc was carrying the GPS.”
Kevin sighed. “Pick a direction, then.”
Pyro closed his eyes and pointed.
“All right. On we go.” The company pressed forward into the heart of the beast.

An hour later, the company reached a large room. In it they could see thousands of mechs, ready for combat. Next to them lay tens of thousands of nuclear warheads. Further on lay grenades, rifles, thousands of every weapon imaginable.
“Wow.” Oscar gasped. “All right. Everyone get back far. I’m planting half a pound in here. Actually, go forward, deeper.” The company sprinted across the floor. An alarm sounded.
“Move!” Oscar yelled. “Don’t stop!”
“No!” Enigma turned back, where now dozens of soldiers were suiting up in their mechs.
“Run, Enigma!” Kevin shouted.
Oscar laid a bomb on the ground and grabbed a trigger from his pack. Inserting it into the plutonium, he yelled
“Enigma, run!” With a heave, he jumped on the pile of plutonium.
Enigma was thrown back, passing even his running friends in the hallway. With a crunch he hit a turn in the hall and stopped. Kevin and Pyro ran up to him.
“Go on. I’m gone. I think my back’s broken. I’ll hold them off. Run!”
Kevin wasted no time and sprinted down the hall with Pyro. Behind them, they could hear gunshots as Enigma shot at their pursuers, following close. In front of them, more troops ran at them, emerging from their bunkers, pulling guns out of holsters. Kevin pulled out his assault rifle and fired, holding down the trigger, his eyes closed, praying. When he opened them again, Pyro was several feet ahead, spraying flame into bunkers. Kevin leaped ahead into the carnage. When finally every enemy near them was down, they ran ahead into the gradually cooling corridor. They stopped as they reached a gaping chasm. Kevin looked into the hole. Within the structure was a giant cold fusion reactor, powering the human war effort. Twenty storehouses like the one Oscar had killed himself to destroy. Only one reactor to fuel it all.
“Give me your grenades.” Pyro spoke, his voice chill.
“What?”
“Give me your grenades.”
Kevin handed over his grenades, puzzled.
“Run.” Then Pyro pulled all the pins and jumped, heading straight for the core. Kevin stared, then leaped into the air. The shock wave hit him at the peak of his jump, and as his head hit the roof, he lost consciousness.

When he woke up, his body was broken, but he was still flying. With a push of his finger, he engaged his jets. Coming down, he could see a ten-mile wide crater where Pyro had sacrificed himself to end one attack, to save all men from themselves.
Far away, a pile of rubble lifted itself and an invisible force staggered out toward freedom.

In the hospital, recovered with amazing speed. He walked out onto the balcony one day and stared out at the golden sunset. One more day, one more triumph. One man against a thousand. The war for humanity was not near the end. No, this was just another page in a thousand. Kevin Heathcliffe walked away from the balcony, the sun setting on one more page.

[herrshuster]

This Story is continued....

[ballet]

Really good! Keep going!

[herrshuster]

OK! i did! actually, i made the whole thing into a short novel i'm working on editing to get published