Boots of Oppression by M.J. Konkel

Author:M.J. Konkel [Konkel, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I lay completely buried face down under the sand. No, I had not pissed off the other resistance fighters and received an alternate version of the dessert head treatment. I had actually agreed to being buried alive. But it still sucked. The armored suit had provided me with fifteen minutes of air to breathe, and I hoped that would be enough.

I stared at my HUD since my faceplate screen was black. Besides my remaining air supply, I saw the positions of the other five fighters around me. Drummer and Marla were closest to me. Amerigo, Tinner, and Xavia were on the other side of the road. They were all buried as well. Face down because it was easier to rise up out of the sand from one’s knees than from one’s back.

Seven minutes of air left.

“What’s the status of that scout?” I whispered into my com. I don’t know why I whispered. I guess it was the being buried thing. “My butt itches, and I need to scratch it.”

“That’s way more info than I needed, and that scout’ll be next to you in less than a minute,” Enceladus replied. “It’s slowing down now.”

“Patience,” Marla insisted. “And remember you all have to keep still, or the sand could shift around you and expose you to the Spits.”

“Is it still coming, or is it turning around?” I asked. For this part of our plan to work, those in the scout had to drive up to the bridge and be curious enough to stop. If they just turned around and went back to their superiors to report that the bridge was destroyed, our plan was doomed.

“Hold your camels. It’s still coming,” Enceladus said.

I then felt the vibration of the approaching vehicle through the ground – faintly at first. But they grew in intensity, and then the vibrations suddenly ceased.

“Enceladus, keep talking,” Marla insisted. “Be our eyes for us.”

“It stopped and just sitting there,” Enceladus said. “I can’t see what’s going on inside. No X-ray vision here.”

“How close to the bridge?” Marla asked.

“Less than ten meters away,” Enceladus replied.

“Should we do it now?” Drummer asked.

“No. Hold your pants up, Drummer. Just a little longer,” Marla ordered.

“The front door on the right side is opening, and a Spit is stepping out.” Enceladus described what she observed from a hidden spot on a nearby hill and decided to add color commentary. “He’s wearing an armored suit, but I can still tell he’s frickin’ ugly. He’s looking around. He’s holding his rifle out. Compensating for something, if you ask me. And now he’s walking toward the bridge section we blew up.”

“Now? Oh pretty please with spices on top, can I?” Drummer begged.

“Wait just a little longer,” Marla insisted.

“The driver’s side door is opening too,” Enceladus reported. “Another Spit in an armored suit. He’s walking toward the first frickin’ Spit, and he’s just as ugly as the first. Maybe uglier.”

“Now!” Marla ordered. “And, Enceladus, get that truck moving.”

We all rose out of the sand. Marla and Drummer shredded the mid-sections of the two Spits out on the bridge as the rest of us charged the scout.

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