Fell On Black Days

Posted on Fri Mar 14th, 2025 @ 7:31pm by Lieutenant Matt Zemke

1,653 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Towers of the Void (Series Premiere)
Location: Somewhere outside DC
Timeline: Judgement Day +2

Matt held onto the buttstock of the M240 as the Land Rover jolted over a bump in the road. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to see anything through his squinted eyes. Tears streamed out the corner of each eye, marking miniscule tracks in the dirt and grime on his face. Matt said a silent prayer for a pair of goggles for the tenth time since setting out from the wash.

Without warning, the Rover slowed, and the Medic steered it into a strand of trees that gave the vehicle great overhead cover. The Medic halted the Rover under the trees and looked around for the other vehicle. Matt wasn’t sure what was expected of him, so he stayed on the 240 in front of him, scanning in front of the truck.

After a moment, the sound of crunching leaves and sticks reached Matt’s ears a moment before the sound of the other vehicle’s rumbling engine reached him. Matt marveled for a second that something so powerful could be so quiet. He wondered if the engine had been modified to keep the noise down.

“Okay…we go on foot from here. Grab your gear and the weapons,” the Russian instructed, climbing down out of the gunner’s ring. The Medic stood, stepped out of the driver’s seat, and helped the Russian detach the M240 that could have been a twin to the one Matt was behind.

Matt followed suit and got out of the passenger’s seat to stand next to the Rover. He turned the 240’s mount so that he could reach the uncoupling pin, which he pulled, and the GPMG came free from the carriage. Matt hefted the gun, the bulk of the machine gun momentarily reminding him of a hillside in South Korea many years ago.

Behind Matt and to his right a few meters, the German, JJ, and the Korean were carrying out similar chores. Once both groups had dismounted the weapons and divvied up the loose gear, camo netting was unfurled and draped over the tops of the two vehicles.

JJ, the Korean, and the German walked up, toting an assortment of gear retrieved from the buggy. Each person was either carrying another weapon or had an ammo box in a free hand. They all spent a moment or two adjusting their loads. Matt reasoned to himself that leaving the vehicles here was one thing, but leaving man-portable gear here unsecured was crazy. The German looked everyone over and then spoke up.

“This is the point in the mission that shit usually falls apart. You’re thinking about getting home or getting chow or whatever, and you get relaxed,” the German said quietly.

“We’re not done until we’re back in the bunker, yeah?” he said, looking his team in the eyes.

“You two,” he started, looking to Lena and Matt, “stay on Marco’s ass and do what he says,” the German instructed.

“Unless he asks you to hold his beer,” the Korean joked. That elicited a murmur of affirmatives from the others. The German conceded the point and corrected himself.

“…unless he asks you to hold his beer,” the German parroted.

Lana and Matt exchanged a worried glance, wondering what they’d gotten themselves into, when the German got serious again.

“Take point; we’ll be two minutes behind you,” he said, looking at the Korean. The Korean wordlessly nodded and handed off his ammo box to the Medic. He broke away from the group and trotted off to Matt’s left.

“JJ, you’re tail-end Charlie,” the German said, turning to the Scout.

“Roger that, Boss,” JJ replied. He bumped several outstretched fists and then walked over to the edge of the trees. Matt saw that JJ stayed well back from the opening so as not to be spotted, and he had his rifle up and ready.

“We’ve been hit like this before,” the German explained, looking at Matt and Lana.

“Damn machines like to camp out and blast us when we’re busy high-fiving and looking forward to dropping our gear,” he continued.

“You know what you’re doing with that Bravo, there Miami Vice,” the German asked Matt.

“I was a Crew Chief before I was a Pilot,” Matt answered confidently. The German merely nodded and looked back to the others.

“Marco, you lead us out. I’ll bring Miami Vice and his Hitchhiker along. Doc,” he said, looking over Matt’s shoulder at the Medic, “you bring up the rear of the convoy.” Marco and the Medic bumped fists and stepped around Lana and Matt.

The German looked at his wristwatch and then waved Marco out. Still carrying the Land Rover’s upper M240, Marco shifted his rucksack and walked ahead. The German held out a hand to stall Matt and Lana for a 15-count, then pointed at Lana and gave her the go-ahead. Matt stepped up and started counting to himself. At 14, the German gave him the go signal, and Matt nodded. He stepped off, scanning around for anything as he hurried ahead.

Several moments later, Matt held up his hand, fist balled, relaying the signal to the German who was behind him. Matt instinctively went to a knee. He saw that Lana was pointing her rifle to the team’s right, so he made sure to point his 240 to the left. Matt thought about going prone behind the 240. But seeing the German, hunched over with his rifle at the ready, duck-walking forward to see what was happening, gave Matt pause. A quick glance at Marco, who was also kneeling and pulling security, told Matt he was right to hesitate.

Matt watched as the German moved to the front of the line and exchanged a tense but whispered conversation with JJ. The German nodded and then gave JJ a squeeze on the shoulder. JJ started to creep forward, angling to the group’s right but focusing on the area the group would have walked into. Matt realized that, for whatever reason, JJ was taking the group around something. It was something significant from the distance that JJ was putting between them and the area in front.

The German came back down the line in his crouch walk and stopped at Lana. He leaned in and whispered something to her before patting her on the shoulder and coming to Matt. Lana, for her part, nodded and turned her attention to Marco, who used a hand signal to tell her to follow him closely. The pair began duck-walking toward what was left of a building to the group’s right.

“Don’t ask any questions,” the German whispered in Matt’s ear. “Just do what I say.”

Matt simply nodded, knowing he was out of his depth here. The German held out his hand, telling Matt to wait where he was. The German then turned and scooted over to find the Medic. He repeated the whispered conversation bit and then duck-walked back to Matt.

“When JJ and your friend leave that craggy, burned-out wall, we’re going to move out. Stay low and head for it,” the German instructed.

Matt’s mind was buzzing with questions, but he knew that now was not the time. Something up there was a threat to them, but there wasn’t another way around…or through. So, he would keep his mouth shut and do what he was told. He’d been around long enough to know the difference between rank and experience.

A flicker of movement ahead caught Matt’s attention. Before he could even react or recognize what it was, the German had pushed him down prone. Matt’s face was smushed against the receiver of the machine gun, the rivets digging into his skin, but he didn’t dare to move. He thought twice about holding his breath. Beside him, the German was just as flat, trying his best to imitate a dead body.

Suddenly, a high-pitched whine filled Matt’s ears, and a lance of blue light streaked over Matt’s head. Matt’s nostrils were filled with the smell of burning brake pads, and the skin on the back of his neck felt sunburned. Matt felt an overwhelming urge to get his 240 up onto its bipod and rattle off a burst…but the German didn’t flinch. In fact, he pressed Matt’s head down more.

Several more streaks went over Matt and the German’s heads, one of which hit something, making a wet thud on impact. The brake pad smell was there, but so was the aroma of cooking meat. None of the others reacted, but there weren’t any more shots, either.

After an eternity, the German released the pressure on Matt’s head and slowly raised himself to his elbows. Matt fought every nerve ending that wanted to copy the German’s actions. He told himself he would rather die than make another mistake…

“Ok, Miami Vice…let’s boogie,” the German said in a harsh whisper.

Matt nodded and numbly got to one knee. He picked up his weapon and then saw what was giving off the cooked meat smell: a whitetail deer with a neatly cauterized hole through its chest cavity.

“You gonna stay and invite the machines to a sit-down lunch?” the Medic asked gruffly. Matt blinked at hearing the soldier for the first time and then saw that the German was almost to the burned-out wall.

Matt swore under his breath and took off at a crouched run, doing his best to keep low but not fill the MG’s barrel with dirt. He needed to get somewhere that had a chopper, he reminded himself. He wasn’t a pipe hitter, unlike his current company. He was a pilot, but he reasoned as he came around the wall and skidded to a halt, would that matter anymore?

 

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