Domestication hadn’t removed the wild roots from their genetic makeup as much as some would be led to believe. The feeling of unease had sat within the base of her gut since the orders had dripped down through the ranks the previous morning till her squad was tasked with this particular nest elimination. It was an oily hesitance that spread through her organs and gripped her heart in a hold that strangled the breath from her. Anxiety, Diego had told her when her friend found her with rattling lungs struggling to bring air in. Aspen had been on the Task Force for three years, and a solid dose of fear was intelligent - not foolish, per the advice of her father. Somehow, this had felt different despite it being a routine operation. The oily feeling had solidified by the time they marched out of Stronghold; a leaden ball of warning that weighed down her steps and instructed her to keep the safety off her rifle.
Abandoned Town had stretched out before them in all its wretched glory. Streets cracked and split by Nature claiming what was always Hers. Suspicion greeted them from doorways of buildings that had slumped; the architecture seemingly as sad and defeated as those who slept within the questionable structures. The wind spiralled down the passages between, setting warning trinkets clattering and tin flapping until it was difficult to distinguish harmless from the harmful. The nest had been sighted on the outskirts - a territory made out of an old bus depot. At some point, the squad had split and Aspen had sought the high ground that gave her a decent visual of the location.
It’d been routine, and yet as the sun set and coloured the town with the cheery warmth of another day passing - a chill ran down her spine. A sense of wrongfulness as the minutes ticked by and no movement came from within - or around - the depot. Aspen had peeled her sight from the scope to peer at her tablet, gloved fingers tapping the ominous black screen. “Oh no… no. Fuck.” The woman hissed as the screen remained mockingly dead. How did that happen? How was it never picked up?
To the scope, she looked again. And still, nothing. Where was everyone?
No sooner did the question float through her mind before she heard the shots ring out in the distance - west of her. Somebody had fucked up and given her the wrong coordinates. Or she’d misheard. The who, how, and possible why were all questions that could wait.
A hiss of movement behind her.
The shot was tearing down the barrel of her rifle as quick as she heaved it from its stand and spun; barrelling through the skull of the Feral.
Incorrect position abandoned, the rifle was hoisted up - the long barrel not ideal for the multi storey carpark that she began to descend. Aware, in that moment, that she’d been separated and the nest would scatter without her there to pick off those who escaped.
Heart hammering, Aspen briskly made her way down and down.
Posted 09-10-2021, 07:58 PM
DIVIDED
