Gasoline | Ben Parish

48

WE leave the destroyed gas station about seven minutes later. 

Ringer has thought about the best route to the courthouse. She wants to see if the mission had any validity to it, or if it was just a test.

Logically speaking, the aliens must have known that there was a possibility that the squad would make it through the town and reach the objective point. There would need to be some sort of set-up.

It could be that the 'rebels' holding all the weapons and shit were really just other aliens playing parts – like how Reznik played sniper. After all, how would a couple of humans get their hands on military ordinance during an apocalypse?

When we failed, if aliens were running the courthouse set-up, they probably pulled out.

...or maybe they are still there, waiting for us.

Zombie told me that he was going to tell Vosch that Squad 53 had gone rogue. He made it back to the landing zone by nothing short of a miracle. He had been afraid that we would kill him, blah blah blah.

I have to wonder if Vosch will believe him. I remember how the aliens used to look at me: Parker, Vosch, Reznik... even Dr. Pam, as much as that hurts to think about. They used to look at me like I was a revolutionary, like I was the best to help fight the cause.

Thinking on it now, maybe that's because I was the perfect little soldier. They didn't have to turn me into a killer. I already was one when I came to them. I already had so much hatred bottled up inside me. I just needed to be directed to an outlet. That outlet was the fifth wave – us, Squad 53 and all the other children recruited to wipe out humanity for alien settlement.

I was jealous of Ringer because I thought she was the poster child for the fight. Now I realize that I was the poster child. I had the fight raging inside of me, the struggle for humanity – and humanity was losing. Unleashing me without humanity onto humanity would wipe out humanity.

My head hurts.

Ringer is in front of me, marching through the snow. She has a backpack on, the neon orange stained with grape juice to make it somewhat black. We all have backpacks in similar conditions. If we want to remain unnoticed, we can't walk through snow with bright colors.

I remember parts of the map from briefing; this area has started to look familiar. I recognize the store names and some street signs. Judging by our current location, I'd say we have about five more miles to go. The trip to Teacup's place last night really took us off track.

Ringer leads us out of the street, sticking close to the buildings on the left. We must be close. She enters a stooped stance. I do the same, trying to ignore how much my body aches. My calf still stings from getting cut yesterday. I wonder how deep the wound is – I never checked because there's not much I can do for it.

We stop at the corner. There's something weird about the air. I can't quite but my finger on it, but it smells... different.

I'm not crazy. Ringer also notices. "Smoke?" She guesses. Her dark eyes meet mine.

Dumbo shakes his head. "It smells more... chemical-ish? Like, cleaning chemicals?"

"Like a doctor's office," Teacup adds.

"Yeah, a doctor's office that was set on fire." Dumbo nods firmly. "That's the exact smell. Not that I've ever smelled that before, but if I did, it would smell like this."

Ringer looks at me, almost as if to ask "Thoughts?"

I shrug. "It's better than all the dead stuff we've been smelling."

Poundcake nods his head in agreement. I pat his shoulder.

"We'll proceed with caution," Ringer says. "Stay close to one another. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious."

"So, basically what we've been doing?"

Her lip twitches at my comment. "I suppose," she says.

We fall back into formation, but this time our ranks are drawn a little tighter. I like it better this way – even though we're doing this because we're unsure of the circumstances we're walking in. Dangerous situations are always so much more fun when you have someone to suffer with.

___

I know what I was expecting when I turned the corner: more buildings, more abandoned cars, more street lights. What else would you expect when you're walking through a city, right?

The aliens aren't exactly predictable.

There is nothing. We turn the corner, thinking we need to walk five more miles through snow-covered sidewalks, and then see that there's nothing.

I don't know how it's possible. I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not seeing things, then have to wipe them again because they water when I touch the injured portion of my face. No matter how many times I try to correct my vision, nothing changes.

It's like half of the city has been sucked up in some giant vacuum and left behind snow and dirt. Not only is there no city, there are no debris from what would have been the destruction of the city.

Part of Dayton is just... gone.

"What the fuck?"

Dumbo nods. "I second that, Croak."

"Me too," Teacup says.

I feel frustration bubble up inside me rapidly. "I mean, how-" I cut myself off, stalking forward. My feet leave the dependable crunching of snow on cement and step onto the damp soil. "Where the fuck did everything go?" I snap, throwing my arms up in the air. "How the fuck are they doing this? Why? Why are they doing this?"

No one says anything. My squad just stares at me as I rant, kicking at the empty space and cursing the aliens into oblivion.

...which, you know, they would probably try to destroy too.

Ringer waits until I finish yelling. "That settles it," she says.

"Settles what?" I growl, plopping down on the edge of the sidewalk. I bring my legs up, keeping my rifle close to my chest.

"There must have been some validity to the mission," she explains. "Why else would they have destroyed this area?"

"I bet you they did it with some kind of weird alien tech," Dumbo predicts. "Something that can nuke a small area."

Teacup comes to sit beside me. Her little cheeks are rosy from the relentless cold. I wonder where we'll sleep tonight.

"Why?" Ringer asks.

Dumbo sits on my other side, drooping his slender arms over the tops of his bent knees. "What do you mean?"

"Why only destroy this part of Dayton?" Ringer questions. "If they think we went rogue and don't want to risk us getting our hands on anything that we could use against them, then why only take out this? Why not destroy all of Dayton? Ensure that we're dead and no longer a threat?"

Squad 53 stays silent.

I lay back in the snow. My backpack presses awkwardly into my spine. I don't move to get up. I stare at the grey sky. "I'm so sick and fucking tired of asking questions that we don't have the answers to."