Ten

The rifle gives a great leap against my shoulder as it spits fire and smoke into the night.

One.

I cycle the bolt and resume my stance, adjusting my aim left before squeezing the trigger again.

Two.

Another empty cartridge falls away, bouncing upon the concrete below and rolling. The rain hisses and steams as it hit the jacket, the opening still smoking. I adjust again.

Three.

The entry team is compromised. Aliens surround them and rain fire upon them with the same consistency as the sky. One KIA, one critical. Three remaining. They will continue to remain if I have anything to say about it.

Four.

My HUD flashes. Something tripped my battle scanner. Looks like I've gotten their attention. Let them come.

Five.

I think back to my time with the ARW. I missed the plains of the County Kildare. I think of my tour in Chad, rolling around in that shitty technical and hiking into the bush with my spotter. I think of the day I was selected and how they wouldn't tell me what for until I arrived in Germany, landing in that mountain home.

Six.

Battle scanner two is tripped. They are close. One floor to go and they'll be on me. I need to move, but the entry team is still pinned. I can't let up fire. They are counting on me.

Seven.

I think back to my childhood, hunting with my father along the coasts of the County Cork. I remember the first red deer I shot. I was sad for it, but the pride my father instilled in me with that clap on the back washed the feelings away.

Eight.

The third battle scanner is tripped. They are just outside the door. I need to move. I'll be dead if I don't move but the boys need me. God, give me ten more seconds.

Nine.

The door crashes open behind me and I hear a guttural roar, but I don't flinch. I need to make this shot. I can hear the stomping footfalls and growling, the awful noise moving closer. I take a breath and squeeze the trigger.

Ten.

_______________________


There's sorrowful pause among the team as HUDs flash with a status readout.

"Entry team to TOC. McConnell is KIA, over."

"This is TOC to entry team. Roger. Out."

The fight is short after that. Muzzles crack and bodies fall, but gone is the comforting sound of the high-powered rifle. Soon, the only constant is the pattering fall of the rain.

There is a sizzle as rain hits an empty cartridge, ten of them lying still in a pool of blood.