‘Inhuman’ opening excerpt

This place has been very quiet lately, which really doesn’t reflect the amount of work I’m putting into my various projects, particularly my novel, Inhuman. So as a proof of life, here’s an excerpt, specifically the opening scene. More excerpts may be posted as work progresses.

Phantoms of Old Corinthea

The weak light of the twin suns faded as evening fell over Corinthea Prime, casting the capital city in a shroud of burnt crimson. The low blanket of maroon clouds danced with flickering shadows over the tops of broken skyscrapers, cracked metal and glass facades glowing dimly in the dying daylight and rising flames. A chill wind swept through the ravine-like streets, swirling dust off the rubble and whipping the blaze into a hadean storm that consumed vehicles, blackened storefronts and carried the screams of the damned.

The rumbling echoes of rifle-fire and detonations blended with the screams of thousands as men, women and children stampeded through the streets. Streaks of bluish-purple tore through the air like colored lightning, cratering walls and rending body parts as they cut down civilians beyond count. Driving the chaos were rows of paramilitary troops that steadily advanced, firing volleys of plasma into the fleeing crowd. Armored vehicles rolled about, blasting buildings and residents alike with their canons, thick treads crushing anything in their path.

‘Specter, relax your grip.’

The quiet words pierced Sean’s trance-like focus and he glanced aside, loosening his white-knuckle hold on his rifle. Commander Vasse’s black-clad figure was hunched almost in half to avoid scraping her shaved head on the jagged ceiling of their crow’s nest formed in the rubble of a half-collapsed apartment building. The Commander’s grey eyes were on him, glinting darkly by the fires visible through the gap they used to observe the anarchy beyond.

‘Remember our orders,’ she said, her voice betraying her effort to convince herself as well. ‘Recon, self-defense only. Observe, report, retreat.’

Sean turned away, bristling in silence. Eighteen years old and two years in the field and he was still being fucking nannied.

A crash nearby brought his attention back to the scene. A truck had plowed through the front of a building across the street and several troops ran in through the opening. The sounds from within were lost in the pandemonium, but the colored flashes that briefly lit up the walls weren’t.

It was all morbid in its normalcy, the sixth or seventh such spectacle in the last month alone. Yet Sean couldn’t avert his eyes, compelled as if by some external force to witness every detail, every bolt of plasma searing his retinas, every cry resonating in his skull until it all merged in some hellish cacophony. He felt himself shaking, but not from cold or fear; instead he saw himself rushing into the fray, dragging out that woman there and her child, then emptying his rifle cartridge into the first Rebels that approached, feeling their skulls break beneath his fists …

‘Kid,’ said a quiet voice from behind him.

With a blink, Sean glanced around again, this time at the man lying against a cracked column at the back of their refuge. Captain Luis appeared unassuming despite the nasty scar marring his left cheek, a distant look in his blue eyes, but Sean knew better than to think him inattentive. When his mentor tapped his index on his rifle’s trigger-guard, Sean uncurled his finger from around his trigger without comment.

The fourth member of the group was busy scanning her datapad, her face hidden behind the lid of her trusty blue denim cap, faintly illuminated by the device’s glow. Sergeant Hartling’s fingers danced on the screen, working with an intensity that made clear her desire to block out the chaos any way she could.

‘Ghost,’ she called in a hushed voice.

‘Yeah?’ said Commander Vasse, looking eager for a distraction.

‘Prelim analysis complete. Birds show a Reb build-up to the northeast movin’ south into the residential district. Looks like they’ll make the admin center in a couple hours.’

Commander Vasse gave a grim nod and turned back towards the street. She raised a finger to her ear.

‘Command, this is PHANTOM Actual, come in.’ The words sounded through Sean’s own earpiece as though she were an inch away, even over the ongoing tumult.

‘Command to PHANTOM Actual, connection secure. Go ahead,’ came the cool voice.

‘Analysis complete,’ continued Commander Vasse. ‘Enemy is clearing out the sector with usual tactics. We are seeing IFVs and infantry and heavy arms. Casualties in the thousands and climbing fast, over.’

They heard a grunt over the line. ‘Copy, PHANTOM,’ said a deeper voice that belonged to Major Xander. ‘We’re still sitting blind here until we get our sats back up. Any ETA until they reach District One? Over.’

Commander Vasse glanced at Sergeant Hartling, who was already working on her datapad. A moment later she showed Commander Vasse the screen.

‘Command, from what we see …’ They all flinched when a blast sounded nearby, showering them with dust from the cracked slabs overhead. ‘At present rate, looks like enemy will reach D-One in approximately a week, over.’

There was a pause, then another grunt.

‘Copy that. Good work, PHANTOM. Extract and report back to base, over.’

Commander Vasse hesitated and glanced over at Sean. The sounds of devastation hung in the air around them like a chant out of hell.

Observe, report, retreat.

‘Extract, wilco,’ said Vasse. ‘PHANTOM out.’

She slumped back against the crumbling wall and pushed another brief sigh, back to staring at the events outside their little pocket of safety. Sean glanced at Captain Luis, whose eyes flickered like small flames nestled in the lines of his worn, tired face. Sean didn’t need to glance around to know the others looked the same.

‘Let’s move,’ said Commander Vasse finally. With a quiet huff, she shuffled through the space and ducked further to exit through the small opening at the back.

Sean got to his feet and followed suit, casting one last glance through the improvised window in time to see a trooper point his rifle into a kneeling woman’s face. He turned away, but the sound of the plasma pulse followed him out.

Captain Luis and Sergeant Hartling entered tow behind him, and soon they were snaking through the twilit, debris-strewn channels that ran through the half-flattened neighborhood. The chorus of death lingered in the air after them, growing with each new detonation and screech of collapsing metal.

They were a few dozen meters out when the ground rumbled and the towering walls flashed fiery-red; then the world erupted in fire and dust and his head split open …

*

The same pain saw Sean startle awake in bed, the dull grey ceiling of his quarters swimming into focus after a moment of mad blinking.