Airship Attack

Evans started twiddling his thumbs and humming. He had tried to take out his notepad to write another letter, but Lieutenant Ricci insisted that he be ready to go at a moments notice. So humming and fidgeting it was.

The Lieutenant was closely monitoring the cars radio for any communications from the reinforcement cars.

And then the first artillery rounds started to hit nearby. At first they were scattered around, as the airship tried to get it’s range right, but the rounds slowly started to hit nearer and nearer, as the guns onboard got their adjustment right. Evans started to question the wisdom of sitting in the most obvious target in an obvious column.

For like, the fifth time in a month, Evans was absolutely certain that he was going to die. The shells were getting closer. The radio squawked a series of letters and numbers.

Lieutenant Ricci flipped through her notebook, pressed a button, and then responded in kind with a series of letters and numbers. She then looked at Evans, “Only a few minutes more.”

There was a deafening roar and the car was knocked into the air. It slammed back down again and Evans passed out.

He heard grunting noises. He opened his eyes. He could see Lieutenant Ricci in the flickering firelight. She was lying on her back, skirt collected around her waist, leggings singed by fire, with her feet pushed against the door. Evans attempted to crawl next to her and help, but a sharp pain shot through his right leg. He yelped.

Lieutenant Ricci looked over at him. She readjusted herself and attempted to pull her skirt up. She then kicked her legs up. The door opened momentarily before it fell shut again. The fire was getting hotter. Another shell burst nearby and rattled the car again. Evans started moving closer to the Lieutenant. Cringing with every centimeter. He wiped the sweat off of his brow.

Evans placed his left leg onto the door. There was a series of high pitched swooshing roars from outside. They sounded like banshees shrieking. Lieutenant Ricci held a hand over his face. Three. Two. One. They both kicked up in unison, swinging the door open.

Lieutenant Ricci stretched up and grabbed the side of the car. She hoisted herself up out of the car. Another dozen banshees shrieked. Evans attempted to get up, but the pain stopped him. He cringed and fell back. The Lieutenant reached down towards him. Evans held his hand up and gripped it. She pulled him up out of the car as another dozen banshees flew by. He could see fire streak through the air.

When the Lieutenant finally pulled Evans out, she tumbled back, bringing Evans over with her. There was a crack and Evans started screaming. Lieutenant Ricci helped Evans up and started carrying him to the side of the rode. She looked at him and said, “You were supposed to help carry me. You are the worst runner Evans.”

Another dozen banshee’s shrieked overhead, and Evans caught a glance at where they were coming from. A half dozen trucks were parked in a scattered formation, with a moving rack of a dozen tubes pointed towards the airship. Evans looked at that. It was pulling back. Two banshees pierced the side and flames burst forth. The airship started to fall out of the sky. What looked like ants started to fall out of the airship’s cabin.

Privates Head and Delage ran out to help Lieutenant Ricci and Evans inside. They put Evans down on a kitchen table and then helped Ricci into another room. Tiscornia walked over and bent over Evans, “We’re pretty sure that you’re immortal Evans.”

“My legs broken.”

“After being hit by an artillery shell. And you’ve done that at least once before. And ran through fire several times. And disappeared behind Vledscan lines. Through that and just one broken leg. All the evidence is there. You can’t die.”

“Can someone give some morphine?” Evans tried to look at his leg, but Tiscornia pushed him down.

“You don’t want to see that.”

Chilcott walked into view and looked over Evans, “You know in some cultures they eat food off of a naked woman on the table.”

Evans cringed at the pain in his leg, “I’m glad to know that. Really fucking useful information right now. No fucking morphine needed.”

Newey walked up to the table with Cain, “No, it’s um… We should be more multicultural.” He gestured at the table, “Cain, I’m hungry, why don’t you pop your clothes off and lie down.”

“That seems like an awful idea. All that powder would get,” she looked around, “In my lady bits. Not very fun to clean that out.”

Newey nodded as he pulled out a syrette from his bag, “Remind me to ask you when we get solid food. Like steak.” Evans felt the pinch as Newey stuck the needle into his thigh.

Cain laughed, “You’re going to eat steak off of me? I feel like it would be better to eat finger food off of someone. Not something with a knife.”

“I think I just really want steak,” Newey tucked the empty syrette into Evans’ lapel, “I could eat steak with my hands. Plans still on.” He shrugged and waved for Cain to follow, “We should probably head back to Hardin. You know how we gets.” The two left the room.

Evans looked at Chilcott, “Why did you bring that up?”

Shrugging, Chilcott replied, “I’m bored. So I’m trying to get them to do it.” He wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to Evans’ chest, “It’s something to pass the time.”

Tiscornia nodded, “You are an idiot Chilly. First juggling grenades, now this… At least this won’t get us killed.”

Closing his eyes, Evans took a few breaths. He opened his eyes again. A Lieutenant was standing over him smoking and directing four soldiers. Evans closed his eyes again. He was being carried along the road. He could see the two soldiers carrying the front of the stretcher. He closed his eyes again.

He was half awake when they finally got him to the medical unit. A bald Captain with splotches of brown on his face was tapping on the side of a machine with his gloved hands. He was looking into some viewport that was over Evans’ leg. The Captain then flipped a switch, stepped back, and jotted down a some notes.

He walked out, leaving Evans alone in the room. Evans looked at the weird machine that the Captain had been using. There were all sorts of levers and knobs. He tried to sit up and get a closer look, but he discovered that he was strapped down.

A Major walked into the room, with the same odd splotches the Captain had. She looked at Evans and waved in front of his face, her right hand looked like it had a bad sunburn. She then bent over him and smiled, “Hi! I’m Doctor Jackson. So your leg is pretty smashed up, but with a cast on, it will be healed in a few weeks.” He heard her pull out a tape measure and move toward Evans’ leg, “Can I say something?”

“Yes Ma’am?”

“I’m really glad you’re here. Most people that come by for X-Rays are really bad off. It’s nice to deal with something not so horrible,” the Major put away the tape measure and put her hands on his leg, “Now this will hurt quite a bit. I can’t give you any more morphine, because there is a shortage. So try not to scream too much. It’s a bit distracting.”

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