The Locket

Deep in the sprawl of a long dead city, the air is thick with the sounds of automatic rifle fire and detonating RPGs. A squad of resistance fighters cuts a path through war torn streets and toward their objective. Leading them, is a man devoid of sentiment, hard as steel, a born killer. They come to a corner, squad leader on point. He inspects the intersection before circling the corner to find a four man fire team. In perfect flow of action, he fires four three-round bursts, aided by the flickering lights of his internally projected Altered Reality heads-up display, though guided more by instinct. Each strikes their target, and the unprepared men are dead before they can react. Following the dropping bodies of the enemy combatants, the squad leader calls “Clear,” queuing his men to cross.

The team sniper calls out “Sarge”, and gestures towards a building with good line of sight where they can set up a base camp. The sergeant nods, and they carefully make way. They sweep the building room by room, finding no one. Once the area is deemed clear, the sergeant pings their location to teams Two and Three and instructs them to rally. He receives confirmation from both team leaders. His men have their instructions, each knows their job well.

He finds himself a room with a soft bed. The door shut behind him, he’s alone. He reaches into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small heart-shaped locket. With his rough hands, he gently thumbs at it, before carefully opening the clasp.

The pictures inside carry his thoughts away to simpler times, better times. He was different back then, and she was perfect. He remembers how he would play and sing songs for her, how she would listen and look on him soft and lovingly. The world had fallen into chaos but they’d had each other. Together, it seemed, they’d found the eye of the world storm untouched by it’s torrents. They were wrong. The battle hardened sergeant presses his lips to the picture of her, closes the locket, and tucks it back into the pocket it had come from. He lies down, closing his eyes, wishing for nothing more than to dream of her.

Several hours pass before he’s awakened by Greer, his second in command, chiming through on his neurologically imbedded comm system. “Team Two is back with intel.”

The sergeant opens his eyes and pulls himself out of bed. “Received. Ready the squad for mission briefing,” he replies.

“Understood.” Greer responds.

Greer briefs the sergeant on troop numbers, positions, and automated defenses. They begin working out a tactical framework while the men wait. Once their plan of action is complete, they move to address the squad.

A shared AR display appears in the center of the room. The sergeant starts,“Situation is this. We have three platoons worth of Boots.” He points to their locations. “Each of these positions is guarded by reflexive perimeter defense machine gun turrets. Their commanding officer will be here,” he says while marking a token on the display. “Team One, led by myself, will infiltrate through an underground access tunnel after dark and eliminate their commander once we’ve extracted his security codes. Team Two will be responsible for hacking into their perimeter defense and taking control of the turrets upon receiving the codes. Team Three will provide cover fire for teams One and Two. Once these mission objectives have been completed, Team One will move on to the primary objective of demolishing the power station. As we do, Team Three will reposition here,” he marks the location, “where they have a clear line of sight on teams One and Two. If we get in and out without incident, Team One will fall back to regroup with Team Three, then followed by Team Two, and we blow the charges. If we encounter resistance, Team Two will turn their perimeter defenses against them, providing Team One additional cover. Team leaders will be able to provide further details.”

The room is silent. Although the men are uneasy, they, each and every one, maintain an unshakable faith in the sergeant’s leadership, earned through the performance of countless tactical miracles.

Minutes remain before they strike out on their objectives. Again he pulls the locket out from his jacket, opening it to look on her.

Decades ago, in the second half of the 21st century, the world’s climate shifted violently as the polar ice caps melted, sea levels rose by some fifty meters over the course of three years. Coastal cities had sunk beneath the waves while the interior fell into chaos.

They’d fled to the mountains with a group of a few dozen strangers who would become family to them over the following years. Eventually the weather subsided and the world settled into a new epoch. They had been through so much together, he and she had seen the end of the world and come out the other side. They were untouchable, until that day. That day the Jackboots came.

The Jackboots started out as a militia of thugs but their numbers had swelled with time into an army, recruiting from those who would see order restored, or so they would say to justify their atrocities. They came demanding tribute but there was little to be had of value save for the women and young fit men to bolster their ranks

The Boots burst in to the house they’d built together. There were two of them. The larger trollish looking one said, “Look at what we got here, we found a present.” The smaller rat looking one says, “Oh yeah, lets unwrap it and see what’s inside.” He tried to stop them but he was no fighter, he’d known nothing but love and laughter even through the end of the world, he was gentle until that day. They laughed at his attempts and shot him in the chest, piercing his lung. As he lie bleeding, choking on his own blood, they had their way with her as he watched helplessly. When they were done, the troll said, “She’ll do.” They took her away, still naked. She was beyond tears, the horror had settled into shock, her eyes were empty as though she were a living doll.

The sergeant clutches the locket in his fist, which he presses to his mouth. He’s overcome by a momentary surge of anger, quickly repressed as his mind and thoughts settle into the task at hand. He places it back into his pocket and regains his composure, without which his men would lose the one thing they had in their favor, faith.

“Team Two, on my word. Team Three, overwatch”.

“Team Two, received”.

“Team Three, received”.

Team One moves on their objective. They silently find their way to the commander’s quarters, neutralizing the two guards posted. The sergeant enters the room swiftly and jams a hypodermic needle into his neck, paralyzing him, causing every nerve in his body to feel as though it was exposed to a white hot flame. He screams in near silence. The sergeant grips the commander’s face in his hand, stares him in the eye, and says, “Give me the command codes and it ends.” The commander did so without hesitation, after which the sergeant transmits them to his second and gives them the go ahead.

Team Two moves in to just outside the range of perimeter defenses and establishes a link, wirelessly infiltrating their local area network. As soon as they gain entry, they signal to Team One.

Once verified, the sergeant draws his noise-suppressed side arm and puts a single round between the commander’s eyes then sends instructions on comm, “Team Three, reposition and report.”

Team One makes their way out of the building, hugging the shadows while awaiting confirmation that Team Three is in position. A few tense minutes pass before finally confirmation is received and Team One moves ahead. The posted sentries are soundlessly eliminated. Team One makes entry and sweeps the facility, finding only two technicians. They put them down and rig the station. All the charges are in place. Once everything is set, the sergeant puts his hand over where the locket rests in his jacket and for a moment he thinks back.

Near death, and begging for it, he’d been found by a small group of fighters who’d banded together against the Boots. He joined them, learned from them, and fought with them. Always hoping that one day he could take what he’d learned and use it to find her. He couldn’t save her then, so he became someone else, someone who could.

Finally that day came, he’d found her. He set off alone to extract her. He had considered every angle, every contingency, and his planning had been impeccable. He moved like a phantom, always closer to her. He burst in to where he’d thought she would be only to find another woman instead.

With a look of crazed desperation, he demanded the woman tell him where she was at gunpoint. Terrified, the woman was balled up against the wall, crying “She’s gone, she’s gone, she belonged to my master before me. She couldn’t take this life and she killed herself. Please don’t hurt me.”

He swallowed hard and lowered his weapon. He put aside his pain and asked how many women there were and where. The woman started to relax, feeling for the first time since she’d been taken that she was going to be okay. She told him everything she knew.

He said, “Gather them and when you start to hear gunfire, take the eastern path toward the river, and follow it south. You’ll find help there. Do you understand?”

She nodded and he said, “Good, go now.” She complied.

By the time that day was over, the women were free and over a dozen men lie dead. That day he had become a legend. The part of the story never told is the after. Before he left that place, surrounded by bodies, he wept. Shaking, with every muscle in his body tensed to the point where he felt his bones would break and his head explode. She was gone, and so was what he had once been.

The sergeant transmits to his squad, “Charges set, falling back.” No sooner than receiving confirmation, he hears activity outside the station. They’d found the commander’s body and the base is on alert. He gives the order to activate perimeter defenses, and within moments, the turrets open fire on the confused garrison. Team Three covers Team One’s escape. Team One exits the station, the sergeant being the last one out. As he crosses the threshold, he’s struck by a marksman’s round and falls back into the building. The rest of his team is caught off guard, ambushed from Team Three’s blind spot. Out in the open, they are killed before having a chance to find cover.

The sergeant is collapsed, struggling to breath, and spitting up blood. He inspects his wound, it is mortal. All hell has broken loose outside, he hears no return fire from his team, they must be dead. Two and Three are holding but it will be only a matter of time before they’re compromised. In a delirium, he calls out on comm, “Greer, you’re in charge now. Disengage and fall back.”

A moment passes before Greer responds in an unsteady voice, “Received.”

As the blood escapes from his body, the sergeant is dangerously nearing unconsciousness. He holds the transmitter in his left hand and is about to detonate the explosives but before he does, one last time he reaches for the locket. He opens it and looks on her, and for the first time in years he smiles, and says one word, “Soon.” He kisses the picture, closes his eyes, and completes his mission.