This is an exciting epic war tale detailing the grim realities faced by soldiers in hostile territory. Thrust into a desperate situation following a disastrous offensive, a small unit must navigate treacherous landscapes and constant enemy threats. Their mission is simple: survive and reach the designated extraction point, known only as Shard Point. This story focuses on their harrowing journey, marked by intense firefights, difficult choices, and the sheer will to endure against overwhelming odds. It’s a raw look at conflict, stripped down to the essentials of action and survival.
Chapter 1: The Collapse
The world was noise and dust. Roman pressed himself flat against the cracked pavement. Chunks of brick rained down nearby. Another shell screamed overhead. It hit somewhere down the street. A fountain of earth erupted.
He risked a look. Smoke choked the air. Buildings stood like broken teeth against a grey sky. His breath came in ragged gasps. Fear tasted metallic in his mouth.
“Stay down!” Borin’s voice was a harsh rasp beside him. The older soldier didn’t flinch. His face was grim, etched with lines of soot and fatigue. He held his rifle ready.
The ground shuddered again. This one was closer. Roman squeezed his eyes shut. He clutched his own weapon tighter. It felt cold and heavy. Useless.
The firing eased for a moment. A strange, ringing silence fell. Only the crackle of distant fires remained.
“Move!” Borin ordered. He scrambled forward, low to the ground. Roman followed, his legs shaky. They darted across an exposed intersection. Debris crunched under their boots.
They reached the dubious cover of a collapsed storefront. Lena was already there. Her medic bag lay open beside her. She was checking her supplies with quick, efficient movements. Her face was pale but set.
“Anyone else make it?” Borin asked, scanning the ruins behind them.
Lena shook her head. “Just us. I saw Mika go down. Roric too.”
Borin cursed under his breath. Three of them left. Out of twelve. The attack had failed. Worse than failed. It was a rout.
“Command?” Roman asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Borin pulled a crumpled map from his tunic. He smoothed it against the wall. “Command is gone. Radio’s dead. We’re cut off.” He pointed a dirty finger at a spot on the map. “This is us. This,” he tapped another point miles away, “is Shard Point. Rally point alpha.”
Roman stared at the distance. It looked impossible. Miles of shattered city. Crawling with enemy soldiers.
“We move at dusk,” Borin said. His tone left no room for argument. “Check your gear. Conserve ammo.”
Roman nodded numbly. He checked his rifle magazine. Three rounds left. He had two spare magazines. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Lena offered him a canteen. The water was lukewarm and tasted of plastic, but it helped.
Dusk began to settle. Long, distorted shadows stretched across the rubble. The ruins took on a more sinister look. Every dark opening seemed to watch them.
Borin gave the signal. They moved out. Silently. Ghosts in a dead city.
Chapter 2: Through the Ash
They moved through streets choked with rubble. Twisted metal hulks of vehicles blocked their path. They climbed over collapsed walls. Squeezed through narrow gaps.
The air smelled of ash and something else. Something rotten. Roman tried not to breathe too deeply. He kept his rifle ready. His eyes scanned every shadow, every broken window.
Borin led the way. He moved with a practiced silence. Years of war had taught him how to melt into the ruins. Lena followed close behind him. Roman brought up the rear. He felt terribly exposed.
A noise echoed from up ahead. A scraping sound. Metal on stone. They froze. Borin held up a hand. He listened intently.
The sound came again. Closer this time. Borin gestured. They slipped into the darkened shell of a burned-out bus. Roman crouched low, peering through a shattered window.
Figures emerged from the gloom. Three soldiers. Enemy uniforms. They moved slowly, methodically. Searching. Their voices carried faintly on the breeze. Low guttural sounds.
Roman’s heart pounded. He could see the insignia on their helmets. The Black Scorpions. Feared shock troops. Known for their brutality.
One of the enemy soldiers stopped near the bus. He kicked at a loose piece of metal. Roman held his breath. He could see the man’s face clearly now. Young. Not much older than himself. But his eyes were hard. Cold.
The soldier moved on. The patrol continued down the street. Disappearing into the haze.
Roman let out his breath slowly. His hands were slick with sweat. Borin nodded grimly. “Too close. We need to stay off the main routes.”
They changed direction. Moved into the maze of smaller alleyways. These were even worse. Narrow. Claustrophobic. Filled with shadows that seemed to writhe.
Hours passed. The only sounds were their own footsteps. The whisper of the wind through broken buildings. The distant, sporadic rattle of gunfire.
They found a relatively intact cellar to rest in. It smelled damp and earthy. Borin took the first watch. Lena tended to a cut on Roman’s arm. A graze from falling debris earlier. Her touch was gentle but firm.
“Get some sleep,” she said quietly. “We’ll need our strength.”
Roman leaned back against the cold stone wall. Sleep felt impossible. Every nerve was frayed. Every shadow held a potential threat. But exhaustion won. He drifted into a restless doze. Filled with images of smoke and fire.
Chapter 3: Echoes in the Dark
Roman woke with a start. Borin was shaking his shoulder gently. “My turn to watch,” Roman whispered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Borin nodded. “Anything?”
“Rats,” Roman said. “Big ones. Nothing else.”
Borin settled down, rifle across his lap. He was asleep almost instantly. War taught you to take rest whenever you could. Roman envied him that ability.
He took position near the cellar entrance. A jagged hole leading out into the alley. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds. The darkness was almost absolute.
He listened. The city had its own sounds at night. The creak of settling ruins. The skittering of unseen creatures. The low moan of the wind. Sometimes, he thought he heard voices. Faint whispers carried on the breeze. Or maybe it was just his imagination.
Time crawled. He focused on staying alert. Fighting off the drowsiness. He thought about home. A place that felt like another lifetime ago. Green fields. Clean air. Safety. He pushed the thoughts away. They were dangerous distractions.
A sudden clatter from above. Roman tensed. He raised his rifle. Aiming at the darkness where the sound originated. Silence. He waited. Heart pounding.
Was it just debris falling? Or something else? He strained his ears. Nothing. Just the wind again. He slowly lowered the rifle. His shoulders ached.
He checked on Lena. She was sleeping soundly. Her face looked younger in sleep. Less strained. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. Towards Borin too. They were all that was left.
The first hint of dawn began to paint the sky. A sickly grey light filtered through the clouds. It made the ruins look even more desolate. More menacing.
Borin stirred. He sat up, instantly awake. “Morning,” he grumbled. “Report.”
“Quiet night,” Roman said. “One noise, but I think it was just rubble.”
Borin nodded. He pulled out the map again. “We made decent ground. But the next section is wide open. A cleared zone. They use it for patrols.”
Lena woke up. She started checking their meager supplies. A few dried ration bars. Less than half a canteen of water each.
“We cross at first light,” Borin decided. “More confusion then. Shift changes. Less vigilance, maybe.”
They ate a small portion of the rations. Dry. Tasteless. But necessary fuel. Roman checked his rifle again. Still three rounds in the current magazine. Two full spares. He wished he had more.
As the light grew stronger, they prepared to move. Roman took a deep breath. The open ground ahead felt like a death trap. But there was no other way. Shard Point was still miles away.
“Stay low. Move fast. Don’t stop for anything,” Borin instructed. “Ready?”
Roman nodded. Lena nodded.
“Go.”
They burst from the cellar entrance. Ran low across the shattered alley. Towards the edge of the open zone. The danger felt palpable. A physical weight in the air.
Chapter 4: The Open Zone
The cleared zone was a hellscape. Acres of flattened buildings. Nothing higher than a few feet. Exposed. Naked under the oppressive sky.
They ran. Bent double. Moving from one shallow crater to the next. One pile of rubble to another. Each dash felt like an eternity.
Roman’s lungs burned. His legs felt like lead. He focused on Borin’s back. Keep moving. Don’t look back.
A whistle cut through the air. Sharp. Piercing. Roman dove instinctively behind a low mound of bricks. Lena landed beside him. Borin was already prone a few yards ahead.
Gunfire erupted. Bullets snapped overhead. Kicked up dust nearby. They were spotted.
“Where are they?” Lena gasped, pressing herself flat.
Borin pointed cautiously. “Sniper. Rooftop. East side.”
Roman peered over the bricks. He saw the glint of sunlight on glass. A scope. Maybe three hundred yards away. Too far for his own rifle.
Another shot. Closer this time. It smacked into the rubble near Borin’s head. He didn’t flinch.
“We can’t stay here!” Borin yelled over the gunfire. “Pinned down!”
Roman scanned the area frantically. There had to be cover. Further ahead. A deeper trench? A wrecked vehicle? Yes. Fifty yards away. The burned-out chassis of a truck.
“The truck!” Roman shouted. “We can make it!”
Borin looked. Gauged the distance. The risk. “On my signal! Run like hell!”
Another shot kicked up dirt dangerously close to Lena.
“Signal!” Borin roared. “Go! Go! Go!”
He surged forward. Firing blindly towards the sniper’s position. Laying down suppressing fire. Roman grabbed Lena’s arm. Pulled her up. They ran.
The world dissolved into chaos. The pounding of their feet. The roar of Borin’s rifle. The sharp crack of the sniper’s shots. Roman didn’t dare look back. He focused only on the truck chassis. Closer. Closer.
He dove behind it. Lena tumbled beside him. Panting. Borin slid in a moment later. His rifle was smoking.
“Ammo?” Roman asked, reloading his own weapon with precious rounds.
Borin shook his head. “Not enough to keep his head down for long.”
They were still exposed. The truck offered minimal cover. The sniper just needed to adjust his aim.
“We need to move,” Lena said, her voice tight. “That way.” She pointed towards a network of deeper trenches further across the zone. Old defensive lines.
“He’ll pick us off,” Borin growled.
Roman looked back the way they came. Then towards the sniper. An idea sparked. Desperate. Probably stupid.
“I can draw his fire,” Roman said. “You two make for the trenches.”
Borin stared at him. “Don’t be an idiot, kid.”
“What choice do we have?” Roman argued. “Stay here and we all die. I move left. Draw his attention. You go right. Into the trenches.”
Lena looked horrified. “Roman, no…”
“It’s the only way,” Roman insisted. He felt strangely calm. Resigned. “Go. When I move, run.”
Borin hesitated. Then he nodded slowly. His eyes met Roman’s. A look of grim understanding passed between them. “Don’t get killed, kid.”
Roman took a deep breath. He gripped his rifle. “Now!” he yelled.
He broke cover. Ran left. Zigzagging. Making himself an obvious target. A bullet whizzed past his ear. He kept running. Another shot kicked up dust at his feet.
He risked a glance back. Borin and Lena were sprinting towards the trenches. Almost there.
Roman dove behind another meager pile of rubble. The sniper’s attention was fixed on him now. Bullets hammered his position. Chips of concrete flew past his face. He was pinned. But Borin and Lena were safe. For now.
Chapter 5: Cost of Passage
Roman pressed himself against the debris. The sniper had him zeroed in. Every time he shifted, a bullet smacked nearby. He was trapped.
He peered cautiously around the edge. The sniper was patient. Waiting for a clear shot. Roman knew he couldn’t stay here. Eventually, the sniper would get lucky. Or infantry would arrive.
He looked towards the trenches. He couldn’t see Borin or Lena. He hoped they had made it deep enough. He had to rejoin them. But how?
He needed a distraction. Something big. He scanned his surroundings. Rubble. Twisted metal. A half-buried fuel drum, maybe twenty yards away. Leaking something dark. Oily.
An idea formed. More reckless than the last. He checked his rifle. One full magazine left after this one. And the three rounds in the current one. He fumbled in his pouch. Found his last grenade.
Okay. This had to work. He took deep breaths. Tried to calm his racing heart.
He waited for a lull in the firing. There wasn’t one. The sniper was relentless. Fine. No lull needed.
He pulled the pin on the grenade. Counted. One. Two. He threw it. Not towards the sniper. But high. Towards the leaking fuel drum.
He didn’t wait to see where it landed. He scrambled out from cover. Ran again. Towards the trenches. Praying.
The grenade detonated. A sharp CRUMP. Followed instantly by a much larger WHOOMPH. A fireball erupted from the fuel drum. Thick black smoke billowed upwards.
The sniper’s firing stopped. Distracted by the explosion. Or maybe reconsidering his position.
Roman ran harder. His legs screaming in protest. The trenches were closer now. He could see the edge. Dark lines carved into the grey earth.
He launched himself forward. Tumbled head over heels into the muddy bottom of the trench. He lay there for a moment. Gasping for air. The smell of mud and cordite filled his nostrils.
Hands grabbed him. Pulled him further in. Borin. Lena. Their faces were anxious.
“You crazy fool!” Borin hissed, but there was relief in his eyes. “Thought you bought it.”
“Close,” Roman managed, coughing.
Lena checked him quickly for injuries. He was bruised. Scraped. But whole. The smoke from the fuel drum still drifted overhead. Providing temporary concealment.
“Did it work?” Lena asked.
“Stopped him shooting,” Roman said. “For now.”
“Good enough,” Borin said. “Let’s move. Stay deep in these trenches. They should lead us most of the way across.”
They started moving again. The trenches were narrow and winding. Often half-filled with stagnant water and debris. Progress was slow. But safer than the open ground.
Roman felt the adrenaline fading. Replaced by a bone-deep weariness. He glanced at Borin. The veteran looked tired. Older than before. Lena too. Her face was smudged with dirt, her eyes haunted.
The cost of crossing the open zone was high. Not in lives, this time. But in energy. In spirit. And Shard Point was still far away.
Chapter 6: Whispers and Shadows
The trenches twisted and turned. Sometimes they opened into wider bunkers. Littered with discarded equipment and the grim remnants of past battles. Sometimes they narrowed. Forcing them to squeeze through tight passages.
The sky above was just a narrow strip of grey. The sounds of the city were muffled down here. Replaced by the drip of water. The scurry of rats. Their own ragged breathing.
It felt like another world. A subterranean maze. Roman found it deeply unsettling. The silence was almost worse than the gunfire. It allowed the imagination to run wild. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat. Every echo sounded like footsteps.
They pressed on. Borin consulted the map whenever the light allowed. Trying to match the trench network to the lines on the paper. It was difficult. The map was old. The trenches were constantly changing. Collapsing. Being re-dug.
“Think we’re heading the right way?” Roman asked quietly.
Borin grunted. “Maybe. These things twist back on themselves sometimes. Easy to get lost.”
They came to a junction. Three tunnels branched off into darkness. Borin studied the map. Then the entrances. He pointed left. “This way feels right.”
They entered the left tunnel. It sloped downwards. The air grew colder. Staler. Roman shivered. Not just from the cold.
Lena stumbled. Borin caught her arm. “Careful. Ground’s uneven.”
They moved slower now. Feeling their way. Roman kept glancing behind them. The feeling of being watched was intense. He could almost hear whispers just beyond the range of hearing.
“Did you hear that?” he asked suddenly.
Borin and Lena stopped. Listened. Silence.
“Hear what?” Borin asked.
“Nothing,” Roman said. “Must have been rats.” But he didn’t believe it.
They continued. The tunnel grew darker. Roman fumbled for his small hand-crank flashlight. Gave it a few turns. A weak beam cut through the oppressive blackness. It illuminated damp walls. Strange, pale fungi clinging to the stone. And something else.
Bones. Piled in a corner. Human bones. Picked clean.
Lena gasped. Roman swept the light around. More bones. Scattered along the floor.
“What happened here?” she whispered.
Borin examined the remains grimly. “Old fight. Or maybe…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
They heard it then. Unmistakable this time. A low chuckle. Echoing from the darkness ahead.
Roman snapped the flashlight beam forward. Nothing. Just the empty tunnel stretching away. But the sound had been real. Cold. Mocking.
“Enemy patrol?” Roman whispered, raising his rifle.
Borin shook his head slowly. His face was tense. “Doesn’t sound like Scorpions.” He listened again. The chuckle didn’t repeat. “Could be… scavengers. Deserters living down here. Dangerous either way.”
He checked his own weapon. “Stay alert. Keep quiet.”
They advanced cautiously. Roman cranked the flashlight again. Its beam felt pitifully small against the overwhelming darkness. The silence pressed in again. Heavy. Expectant.
Then, a flicker of movement at the edge of the light. Roman swung the beam towards it. Just shadows. Playing tricks.
Or were they? The feeling of being watched intensified. He felt goosebumps rise on his arms. This place was wrong. Deeply wrong. They needed to get out. Back to the surface.
But the tunnel continued. Deeper into the earth. Deeper into the shadows.
Chapter 7: Tunnel Rats
The tunnel opened into a wider chamber. A collapsed section of an old subway station by the look of it. Broken tiles littered the floor. Rusted metal signs hung crookedly on the walls. The air was thick with the smell of decay.
Roman swept the flashlight beam across the space. It illuminated figures huddled in the corners. Gaunt shapes wrapped in rags. Their eyes reflected the light like animals.
Scavengers. Borin was right. Maybe a dozen of them. They watched the soldiers enter. Silent. Unmoving. Their faces were skeletal. Desperate.
One figure detached itself from the wall. Moved slowly towards them. He was tall and thin. His clothes were patched remnants of different uniforms. He carried a long, rusty pipe like a club.
“Lost, soldiers?” the figure rasped. His voice was dry. Like sandpaper.
Borin stepped forward. Rifle held loosely, but ready. “We’re passing through. No trouble.”
The scavenger leader smiled. A humorless stretching of thin lips. Revealing broken, stained teeth. “Everything down here has a toll. Passage requires payment.”
Other scavengers began to stir. Shifting. Gripping makeshift weapons. Knives fashioned from scrap metal. Heavy pipes. Broken bottles.
“We have nothing to spare,” Borin said flatly. His hand tightened on his rifle.
“Oh, I think you do,” the leader hissed. He eyed their weapons. Their gear. Lena’s medic bag. “Supplies. Guns. Medicine. Very valuable down here.”
Roman felt trapped. Surrounded. These weren’t soldiers. They were desperate animals backed into a corner. Unpredictable. Dangerous.
“We don’t want a fight,” Lena said, her voice surprisingly steady. “We just need to get through.”
The leader laughed again. That same cold, grating sound. “Fight? No fight. Just… payment.” He took another step closer. Others moved with him. Closing the circle.
Borin raised his rifle slightly. “Last warning. Back off.”
The leader’s eyes glittered in the dim light. “Or what? Three of you. Many of us. You won’t make it.”
Roman knew he was right. A firefight down here would be suicide. Ricochets. Close quarters. They’d be overwhelmed.
“Maybe we can trade,” Roman suggested quickly. Trying to buy time. Think. “We have some ration bars.”
The leader sneered. “Food is temporary. Weapons last longer.” He lunged suddenly. Swinging the heavy pipe.
Borin reacted instantly. He didn’t fire. Instead, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the leader’s gut. The man gasped. Doubled over.
That broke the tension. The other scavengers surged forward. Howling. Shouting.
Roman fired his rifle. Not aiming to kill. Aiming low. At the floor in front of them. The loud report echoed deafeningly in the enclosed space. Chips of tile flew up.
The scavengers hesitated. Shocked by the noise. The raw power.
“Move!” Borin yelled. He shoved the stunned leader aside. Charged towards the tunnel entrance on the far side of the chamber.
Roman and Lena followed. Firing another shot into the ground for effect. The scavengers scattered momentarily. Confused. Afraid of the gunfire.
They plunged into the darkness of the far tunnel. Running blindly. Behind them, angry shouts erupted. Footsteps pounded in pursuit.
They ran. Tripping. Stumbling. Roman risked a glance back. Saw the flicker of crude torches appear behind them. They were being hunted.
Chapter 8: Ascent
The tunnel sloped upwards again. Thankful for that small mercy, Roman pushed himself harder. His lungs burned. The sounds of pursuit seemed to be falling behind. Slightly.
“Faster!” Borin urged. He seemed tireless. Driven by pure will.
The tunnel ended abruptly. A pile of collapsed rubble blocked the way. A dead end.
“No!” Lena cried out in despair.
Borin examined the blockage. “Wait. Look.” He pointed upwards. A faint rectangle of grey light. A maintenance hatch? A sewer grating?
“Give me a boost,” Borin commanded.
Roman cupped his hands. Borin stepped into them. Roman strained, pushing the heavier man upwards. Borin reached the hatch. Pushed. It didn’t budge. Rusted shut.
The sounds of the scavengers grew louder again. Torches flickered at the bend behind them.
“It’s stuck!” Borin grunted, straining.
“Use this!” Roman passed up his rifle.
Borin jammed the barrel under the edge of the hatch. Used it as a lever. Pried with all his strength. Metal screeched. Rusted hinges groaned. The hatch popped open a few inches. Light streamed in.
“Go! Go!” Borin dropped back down. Shoved Lena towards the opening. Roman boosted her up. She scrambled through.
Roman looked back. The first scavenger appeared around the bend. Torch held high. Face contorted with rage.
“Roman! Now!” Borin yelled.
Roman boosted Borin again. The older soldier scrambled through the opening. Roman jumped. Grabbed the edge. Tried to pull himself up. His pack snagged on the lip.
Hands grabbed his legs. The scavenger leader. Trying to pull him back down. Roman kicked frantically. Connected with the scavenger’s face. The grip loosened.
Borin reached down. Grabbed Roman’s collar. Hauled him upwards. Roman tumbled out onto blessedly solid ground. Open air.
Borin slammed the heavy metal hatch shut. Fumbled with the rusted locking bar on top. Managed to slide it partly into place. Muffled shouts and banging came from below.
They were out. Back on the surface. In another ruined street. But it felt like escaping a tomb.
Roman lay on his back. Panting. Staring up at the grey sky. It had never looked so beautiful. Lena knelt beside him, checking him over. Borin stood watch, rifle ready, scanning the new surroundings.
“Everyone okay?” Borin asked gruffly.
Roman nodded. Lena nodded. They were shaken. Filthy. Exhausted. But alive.
Borin consulted the map again. His expression cleared slightly. “I know this area. We’re closer. Shard Point. Maybe half a mile north.”
Half a mile. It sounded like nothing. But Roman knew it would be the hardest half-mile yet. The enemy knew they were coming now. The explosion. The gunfire. They wouldn’t be ignored.
Chapter 9: The Last Stretch
They moved cautiously through the streets. Sticking to cover. Moving faster now. Hope lent them strength. Shard Point was close.
The destruction here seemed fresher. Buildings were more damaged. Craters were deeper. The signs of recent, heavy fighting were everywhere.
They heard it before they saw it. The low rumble of engines. Borin pulled them into a doorway. Peered out carefully.
An armored car crawled down the street. Black Scorpion insignia painted on its side. Machine gun mounted on top. Scanning the ruins. Hunting.
They waited. Hearts pounding. The vehicle moved slowly past their hiding place. Disappeared around a corner.
“Getting thicker,” Borin muttered. “They know we’re around.”
They crossed the street quickly. Entered a large, multi-story building. Gutted by fire. But the structure was mostly intact. Borin thought it offered the best route. Higher vantage points. Less predictable than the streets.
They climbed stairs choked with debris. Each floor revealed more devastation. Wind whistled through empty window frames.
On the third floor, Borin stopped. Pointed. “There. See it?”
Roman looked. Through a gaping hole in the wall, he could see it. A skeletal radio tower. Standing on a small rise overlooking the ruins. Surrounded by defensive berms. Sandbags. Barbed wire. Shard Point.
It looked deceptively close. Maybe three hundred yards. But the ground between was open. And likely watched.
“How do we get across?” Lena asked.
“We don’t,” Borin said. “Not directly.” He pointed towards another building. Closer to the tower. Connected to their current position by a collapsed section of roof. A makeshift bridge. “We go building to building. Stay off the ground.”
It looked precarious. The collapsed roof sagged dangerously. But it avoided the open kill zone.
“Okay,” Roman agreed. “Let’s do it.”
They moved towards the collapsed section. Borin tested it first. Distributing his weight carefully. It groaned but held. He motioned them across.
Lena went next. Moving quickly. Lightly. Roman followed. Trying not to look down at the sheer drop below. He focused on the other side. Almost there.
A shout from below. They’d been seen. Gunfire erupted. Bullets sparked off the concrete around them.
“Run!” Borin yelled.
They scrambled the last few feet. Reached the relative safety of the next building. Dove behind cover as bullets shredded the spot where they had just been.
More soldiers were converging on their position now. Shouting commands. Moving through the ruins below. Trying to surround the building.
“Pinned again!” Roman said, frustration edging his voice.
Borin peered out a window towards Shard Point. “They’re expecting us. Defenses look manned.” He paused. Looked back at Roman and Lena. A strange expression on his face. Resignation. Determination.
“Listen carefully,” Borin said, his voice low and urgent. “The tower is our only chance. Radio contact. Extraction. You two have to make it.”
“What about you?” Lena asked, her eyes wide.
“I’m going to give them something else to shoot at,” Borin said grimly. He checked his rifle. Down to his last magazine. He pulled out his remaining grenades. Two.
“No!” Roman protested. “We stick together!”
“Don’t be stupid, kid,” Borin snapped. “This is the only way. They’re focused on this building. I draw them in. Keep them busy. You two slip out the back. Circle around. Approach the tower from the west. It looks less guarded.”
He looked Roman square in the eye. “You get her there. Understand? That’s an order.”
Roman swallowed. He saw the finality in Borin’s eyes. There was no arguing.
“Go,” Borin said. “Now. While I create a diversion.” He moved towards the front of the building. Towards the heaviest enemy concentration.
Lena grabbed Roman’s arm. Her face was pale. “We can’t just leave him.”
“We have orders,” Roman said, his voice thick. He hated it. But Borin was right. It was the only chance. He pulled Lena towards the back stairs.
A grenade exploded near the front of the building. Followed by the roar of Borin’s rifle. Shouts. More gunfire. The diversion had begun.
Roman didn’t look back. He led Lena down the stairs. Out into the chaos. Towards Shard Point.
Chapter 10: Shard Point
They ran. Low and fast. Skirting the edge of the main firefight. The sounds of Borin’s last stand echoed behind them. Grenade explosions. Defiant rifle fire. Then, abruptly, silence.
Roman didn’t let himself think about it. He focused on the tower. Circled west, just as Borin had said. The ground here was rougher. More broken. Offering better cover.
They reached the base of the rise where the tower stood. It looked less imposing up close. Just metal struts and wires against the grey sky. Sandbagged positions surrounded it. Barbed wire lay in tangled coils.
Roman scanned the defenses. Borin was right. This side seemed weaker. Only one machine gun nest covering the approach. Two soldiers visible.
“We need to take them out,” Roman whispered. “Quietly, if possible.”
Lena nodded. She drew her sidearm. Roman checked his rifle. Still had rounds. But not many.
They crawled forward. Using craters and debris for cover. Closing the distance. Fifty yards. Forty.
One of the soldiers in the nest stood up. Stretched. Looked out towards the city. Away from them.
“Now,” Roman breathed.
He raised his rifle. Sighted carefully. Fired. The shot was loud in the relative quiet. The standing soldier jerked. Collapsed.
The second soldier reacted instantly. Swung the machine gun towards them. Fired a burst. Bullets chewed the dirt near Roman’s head.
Lena fired her pistol. Once. Twice. The machine gunner slumped over his weapon. Silent.
Roman and Lena sprinted the remaining distance. Dove into the sandbagged nest. Roman quickly checked the soldiers. Both dead. He grabbed spare ammunition clips from them. A welcome find.
“Inside,” Roman urged.
A heavy steel door led into the base of the tower. Roman tried the handle. Locked. He fired a short burst at the lock mechanism. Metal screamed. The lock shattered. He kicked the door open.
Inside was dark. Smelled of oil and ozone. Stairs led upwards. Towards the control room.
They climbed cautiously. Expecting resistance. But the tower seemed deserted. Had the main garrison been drawn away by Borin’s fight?
They reached the top. A small room. Filled with radio equipment. Dusty. Mostly silent. A single green light blinked on a console. Power.
Lena went straight to the main transmitter. Her fingers flew across the controls. Flicking switches. Turning dials. Roman stood guard at the door. Listening. Watching the ruins below.
Enemy soldiers were advancing towards the tower now. Alerted by the gunfire. Moving cautiously.
“Anything?” Roman asked anxiously.
“Trying,” Lena muttered. Static hissed from the speaker. She adjusted frequencies. “Calling Rally Point Alpha. This is Sentinel Three. Request immediate extraction. Shard Point coordinates. Over.”
More static. Then, a broken voice crackled through. “… epeat… tatic… eavy… Sentinel Three… confirm… cation…”
“Shard Point!” Lena yelled into the microphone. “Enemy closing! Request immediate evac! Now!”
The radio crackled again. Faintly. “… derstood… Sentinel… Hold… position… Support inbound…”
The connection died.
“Did they hear us?” Roman asked.
“I think so,” Lena said. Relief washed over her face. But it was short-lived. She looked out the window. “They’re coming.”
Enemy soldiers were reaching the base of the rise. Starting to climb. Firing at the tower. Bullets pinged off the metal struts outside.
Roman took position at the window. Rested his rifle on the sill. Began firing carefully. Aiming for targets. Trying to slow their advance. Conserving ammunition.
Lena picked up one of the dead soldier’s rifles. Took position at another window. Fired alongside him.
They were trapped. Outnumbered. But help was supposedly coming. They just had to hold on. How long could they last?
Chapter 11: Hold Until Dawn
The firefight intensified. Bullets hammered the small control room. Ricocheting off equipment. Roman and Lena fired back. Taking cover. Firing again.
They were good targets. Silhouetted against the windows. But the enemy soldiers climbing the rise were exposed too. Roman focused. Aimed. Fired. Saw a figure fall.
Lena was surprisingly steady. Her shots were accurate. She fought with a quiet determination.
More enemy soldiers arrived. Reinforcements. They brought heavier weapons. A mortar round exploded near the base of the tower. Shaking the whole structure. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
“How long?” Roman shouted over the din.
“How long till what?” Lena yelled back, reloading her rifle. “Till help arrives? Or till they break in?”
Another mortar round hit. Closer. One of the windows shattered inwards. Glass flew. Roman ducked.
They were running low on ammunition again. Roman checked his remaining magazines. One left after this. Lena was in a similar state.
The enemy was at the base of the tower now. Trying to breach the steel door. Heavy thuds echoed from below.
Roman looked at Lena. Her face was grim. Streaked with grime. But her eyes held no fear. Only resolve. They had come too far to give up now.
He remembered Borin. His sacrifice. It wouldn’t be in vain.
“Watch the stairs,” Roman said. He used his last few rifle rounds firing down at the soldiers attempting to climb.
The banging on the door intensified. Metal groaned. Hinges strained.
Roman drew his sidearm. Lena did the same. They stood back-to-back. Ready for the final confrontation. The door burst inwards.
Figures appeared in the stairwell. Silhouetted against the light from below. Roman fired. Lena fired. The figures fell back. More pushed forward.
Then, a new sound. A deep WHOOSHING roar from above. Growing louder. Roman looked up through the shattered window.
Aircraft. Low. Fast. Their own markings clearly visible.
Rockets streamed down from the planes. Exploded amongst the enemy soldiers surrounding the tower. Geysers of earth and fire erupted. The ground shook violently.
Machine guns opened up from the aircraft. Strafing the area. Cutting down the attackers. The enemy assault faltered. Broke. Survivors scattered. Fleeing back into the ruins.
Silence fell. Abruptly. Eerily. Only the crackle of fires remained.
Roman slowly lowered his pistol. Lena leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. They looked at each other. Disbelief. Relief.
A rope ladder snaked down from one of the hovering aircraft. A figure descended quickly. Kitted out in clean gear. He landed lightly outside the control room window.
“Sentinel Three?” the soldier called out. “Time to go!”
Roman helped Lena towards the window. They climbed out onto the narrow platform. The wind whipped around them. The soldier secured them to harnesses.
As they were lifted up towards the waiting aircraft, Roman looked down. Saw the ravaged city stretching away below. Saw the lone tower of Shard Point. A monument to their struggle. He thought of Borin. He wouldn’t be forgotten.
They had made it. They had survived. Changed. Scarred. But alive. The war wasn’t over. But this battle was won.
If you enjoyed this story, check out our other exciting tales here:
