First Strike - - (free romance novels .txt) 📗

the middle of the room. A deck of cards and a half-drunk bottle of booze sat on the table, a reminder that someone had once lived here. Before anyone could reach for the bottle, Cole grabbed it and poured what was left onto the floor.

“I want everyone to have a clear head,” Cole said, looking over at Roberts and Garcia.

Sheridan said, “Okay, we’re here until nightfall. When it gets dark, we’ll push on again and try to make it back to our lines. If you’ve got any food on you, I suggest that you eat it as I doubt we’re going to find any out there tomorrow.”

“One person at a time will be on sentry for two hours, starting with Roberts, and no falling asleep,” growled Cole, still pissed that the dog was with them.

Sheridan removed his helmet and pulled out a chair so he could sit down. He looked over at Cole. “Sergeant, I know that you’re not happy with my decision. And a day ago I would have agreed with you. But we both know that Roberts wouldn’t leave his dog behind. With all of the losses we’ve suffered, I couldn’t just let him go.”

“Sir, death is part of the job. The sooner we all get used to the idea, the easier it’s going to be to accept the loss of those people we serve with.”

“You may be right, but at that moment in time I just couldn’t say no.”

“It’s what makes you human,” said Cole, patting Sheridan on the arm. “If you aren’t conflicted when you have to decide whether someone lives or dies, you’ve lost your soul and are no better than a mindless automaton.”

“Thanks,” replied Sheridan.

“However, just to be clear, sir, if I were in charge, I would have ditched the dog and Roberts if need be, but you’re the boss.” With that, the conversation ended.

Chapter 19

Tarina sat on a red and white checkered blanket holding a glass of white wine in her hand. Sheridan had picked a shaded spot on a hill overlooking his family’s home in Plymouth. He smiled at her before playfully rolling over on his back until his neck rested on her lap. She smiled at him, leaned down, and delicately kissed his lips. Sheridan thought her lips tasted like strawberries. He had never been happier in his entire life. The last few years with Tarina by his side had been a blissful blur. Every weekend they could manage to be together was spent away from the academy.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Tarina said.

“I was just wondering how a guy like me was so lucky to find a girl like you,” replied Sheridan.

“It must be your very large family trust fund that makes you handsome.”

“That’s not even funny,” Sheridan said, hitting her on the arm.

“Will your parents be home tonight?”

“Yes, I called. They’re on their way to meet us at the house for supper.”

Hesitantly, Tarina asked, “Do you think they’ll like me?” 

“Sure, why not? I’m head over heels in love with you.”

“Yes, but you’re not your parents, just like I’m not mine. People can be judgmental even if they won’t say so to your face.”

“It’ll be alright. You know, you worry too much sometimes.”

Sheridan reached up with his right hand and placed it on the back of Tarina’s neck. He could feel the warmth of her skin on his hand. Gently, he pulled her mouth down toward his.

“Sir, you need to get up now,” said Tarina with a serious look on her face.

“Why would you say that?” mumbled Sheridan.

A hand shook him. “Sir, you’re dreaming. Wake up!”

Sheridan opened his eyes and saw that he wasn’t on a hill with the sun shining down on him. Instead, he saw a troubled expression on Cole’s face.

“What’s up?” asked Sheridan as he sat up in the seat he had fallen asleep in.

“Thank God for that damned dog,” said Cole barely above a whisper. “She heard it long before any of us did.”

Sheridan was confused. “What did she hear?”

“Listen,” said Cole, pointing up at the roof.

At first, Sheridan didn’t hear a thing, only his own breathing. A couple of seconds later, his ears picked up the faint sound of something mechanical rolling over the debris-strewn floor over their heads.

Sheridan’s eyes went wide.

Cole nodded and then mouthed the initials HK. Rather than risk any more casualties, the Chosen had begun to inspect houses they had passed for any Marine stragglers using armed robotic vehicles known as hunter-killers.

Sheridan whispered, “Can it get down the stairs?”

Cole shrugged.

Everyone in the room, including the dog, stared up at the roof. Even their breathing grew quiet as the machine crawled along, breaking wood and glass under its treads. They followed its movement until it came to the stairs leading down into the cellar.

Cole raised a finger to his lips.

Through a crack in the door, they could see a light shining down from above. For a moment, all was silent. Sheridan hoped that the robot would move on. Then with a thud, he heard the machine begin to make its way down the stairs. Taking them one at a time, the robot grew close.

“What do we do?” whispered Sheridan.

“We can’t play dead; its thermal camera will pick up our body heat,” replied Cole. He looked about. A second later, he hauled a dust-covered tablecloth up off the floor and indicated with his hand for everyone to move against the wall.

Slowly, methodically, the machine made its way down the stairs. Inside the room, everyone waited and listened as the robot extended a mechanical arm to see if the door was open. When it realized that it couldn’t push the door open, it fired off a small explosive charge on the end of its metal arm.

With a sharp crack, the door lock snapped apart and the door flew open. A bluish-white laser instantly shone inside looking for movement. When it detected none, the robot advanced into the room. In a flash, Cole threw the tablecloth over the top of the machine. For a few seconds, it moved back and forth trying to pull the sheet off.

All of a sudden, it stopped moving.

Cole looked over at Sheridan and quietly pulled his bayonet from its sheath. Sheridan, his mouth turning dry with fear, did the same.

Voices above them cursed and swore up a storm. A light was switched on and shone down the stairs, looking for the robot. 

Footsteps.

Sheridan heard two Chosen soldiers coming down the stairs bitching and complaining about their equipment always failing. The first one stepped inside the room and stopped in his tracks when he saw the cloth draped over the machine. His eyes widened. He was about to step back and draw his pistol when the second warrior, not paying attention, crashed into the back of the other one, sending them both into the room.

Like a pair of coiled snakes, Cole and Sheridan struck. Neither man had ever killed a person with a knife before, but it was a case of them or the Marines and both men wanted to live. Repeatedly, Sheridan smashed his blade into the nearest Chosen’s open side until his victim’s knees buckled. Sheridan hauled back on his quarry and in one final thrust he plunged his knife into his dying adversary’s heart.

With his heart pounding away in his chest, Sheridan let the lifeless body fall to the ground. Even in the dim light, he could see that he had killed a woman. Guilt tore through his heart when he saw the woman couldn’t have been any older than himself and had skin as dark as Tarina’s. Sheridan dropped his knife and fell down on his knees beside the dead warrior. He reached out and gently turned her face toward his. She looked so much like Tarina that for a brief second, he thought he had killed the woman he loved.

A hand reached over and grabbed him by the shoulder. Sheridan was hauled up off the ground. Spun about, he found himself looking into Cole’s eyes. “You did what had to be done. Sir, you haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.”

Cole glanced up the stairs. The thought of remaining near the people they had just killed for even one second more was too much for him to bare. “We can’t stay here. They’ll come looking for their people.”

“Sir, what are your orders?” said Cole forcefully to Sheridan, snapping him out of his daze.

Sheridan looked over at Cole. “Lead on, Sergeant, find us another spot to rest in. It’s too early to start moving about outside; we’ll be spotted or sure.”

Ten agonizingly long minutes later, they took refuge in a nearby house. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do for now. Sheridan sat down in the corner of the room and looked down at his hands. In the gray light of dusk, he could see that the blood had dried to a reddish-brown color on his hands. 

“Take this,” said Cole, offering Sheridan his canteen.

Sheridan wet his hands and rubbed them, trying his best to get the blood from every crack and pore in his hands. It was no good; the blood wouldn’t come clean.

“Sir, you’ve got to clear your mind, or this will get to you and you’ll be no good to the rest of us. Between you and me, if I could find a bottle right now, I’d chug the whole thing down. So don’t you fall apart on me, not now.”

Sheridan lowered his hands and placed them on his rifle. “I’m okay; it’s just that that Chosen warrior reminded me of someone I know. It spooked the hell out of me.”

“I’m sure that’s going to happen thousands of times until this war comes to a close. There’s probably families firing and killing one another; they just don’t know it.”

Sheridan took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought about it that way until now. “Sergeant, do you think we’re getting close to our lines?”

“I’m not sure. When it gets dark, the fighting will kick up again. That should give us a good indication of where our forces are.”

On the other side of the room, Garcia was fast asleep with the dog nestled up right beside her. “Roberts and his dog saved our skin,” observed Cole. “Sir, you can forget what I said before; I want a dog in the platoon from now on.”

An hour after dark, the world in front of them erupted in flames. The sound of Marines and Chosen warriors engaged in combat to the death drowned out everything else. Kneeling so he could judge where the fighting was raging, Sheridan felt more a spectator than a participant to the violent struggle going on no more than few hundred meters away.

They waited until they saw wounded Chosen soldiers hobbling to the rear to seek medical help. Sheridan nodded and Cole led off once more. Slowly, moving from room to room, from building to building, they edged ever closer to the front lines. When they were less than fifty meters from the fighting, Cole suddenly lifted his hand and stopped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sheridan.

“I could be wrong, but I thought I heard a child crying.”

For a