Free EnEmE: Fall Of Man by R.G. Beckwith Page A

That blitz in the garage, it was just me last desperate attempt.”
     
    I pulled a grenade from my belt, popped the latch, and tossed it blindly into the hallway. An explosion rocked the hallway and shook the ground. All seemed quiet for a second, and then the gunfire continued from the other side. If I’d taken any of them out, it hadn’t been all of them.
     
    I looked at Banyan and made the decision.
     
    “Your uncle, he was a surgeon here, right?” I asked him.
     
    “Yeah,” Banyan said, a curious look crossing his face.
     
    “Was he sort of slender, balding, white hair, sick sense of humour, but charming? Worked in the E.R. as an emergency surgeon? Is that what your uncle was like?”
     
    “Yeah, that’s my Uncle Jessie,” he said. “What do you mean ‘was’?”
     
    I reached a hand out, touching his in comfort and preparing him for what I was about to say.
     
    “Your uncle was a brave, smart, and caring man. I met him. If it wasn’t for him,  my friends and I probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to be here now,” I explained, holding the younger Banyan’s fearful gaze. “Your uncle was a hero, and I saw these things , whatever they are, kill him this morning in cold blood.”
     
    Banyan looked at me in disbelief, the horror sinking in. He tried to respond, but kept choking on his own emotions. Tears welled in his eyes and a look of pain crossed his face. Choked half sobs escaped from his mouth. I fired blindly over my shoulder down the hall and then reached for his hand again. Before I could take hold he bolted upright and released a primal scream.
     
    Banyan levelled his tiny weapon and stepped into the hallway, standing in the line of fire, and began releasing a stream of bullets.
     
    Drywall flew as most of his bullets hit the opposite wall, spreading in a neat line down the hallway. The tail end of the burst managed to hit a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, just as the final armored gunman was passing it as he sneaked down the hall toward us.
     
    The extinguisher exploded, covering the soldier in thick white foam. He started flailing and scrambling blindly, too choked to think of wiping his visor clean.
     
    “WAFFLE IRON!” Banyan screamed as he ran into the hallway in a roaring rage toward his adversary Even though he was out of ammo, he kept pulling the trigger.
     
    Banyan slid and skidded through the thick foam for the last several feet before colliding with his enemy with a loud thud. After a brief struggle, Banyan finally knocked the soldier to the ground before ripping off the man’s helmet while standing over him.
     
    “FUCK! TOUCAN! ORANGE! FAGGOT!” Banyan screamed as he beat the soldier’s head in with his own helmet.
     
    By the time Freeman and I were able to pull him away, the soldier’s head was an unrecognizable pulp. Out of words, Banyan sobbed heavily as I pried the helmet from his hands to discover that he had gripped the helmet so tightly that his own hands had become deeply lacerated.
     
    I slowly led him down the adjacent corridor that had offered Freeman protection, looking for a restroom where I could clean up and stitch his wounds. He sat lost in his own grief, silent for the first time since I’d met him.
     
    As I looked at him sadly, my mind searching for words, I began to hear voices from the main corridor. I quickly recognized one as Hauer’s.
     
    Banyan and I cautiously exited the restroom, working our way down the hallway and to the opening where we could see Freeman and Hauer conversing. We arrived just in time to hear the end of Hauer’s story.
     
     
    “…and then this guy knocks out one of those armored bastards with his own empty rifle, set a plastique charge and drags my ass down the tunnel. The charge explodes just as what’s left of those fuckers are coming and blows them all to hell before we find the manhole that exits to the parking garage.”
     
    Hauer reached out and wrapped a proud, thankful arm around the man