Night Alpha

3 - Banister Bomb

We stay quiet once inside, I even breathe slower to silence the beating pulse going through my temples. It doesn't work but gives me something to focus on. The guys are on edge despite going over the mission's brief a hundred times.

In the same room as those we were trained to kill, only here to protect them this time. Past monsters and new found allies, still dangerous regardless. The heat keeps blooming from my stomach, blinding my senses.

I ponder telling the unit, I don't want to be a liability. I lean against the banister for support, the height should offer me view of all 3 open ceiling floors. The one I'm on with 3 others on each corner, the one bellow with 6 guys, overlooking the first floor, a meeting room with the most soldiers.

It's regal like, leftover of a richer time, of supremacy. Walls coated in luxurious red paper and woodworks painted in good, thick patterned wooden floor. Three of their representatives are seating on one side, the opposite side full with ten of our leaders.

Their power radiates from far, maybe that's what making me sick. The pressure pulls at my knees, I grit my teeth and resist. I see others leaning on walls and railings for support, our political leaders must be content being seated, I can't see their shaking from here, but assume it from their cut and short sentences. Maybe the others feel the heat too.

One of the guys on my floor suddenly runs to the closest door, leaving us puzzled until we spot his hand coming up to his mouth. I feel you, though I'm not that nauseous. We change our position to fill his spot as best as we can.

« Bridge is sick, taking his spot. » I try to speak distinctly, but it comes out more of a mumble. Copies come anyway.

We turn again, I leave my corner for the back of the room, directly behind the envoys, behind their queen. She doesn't react if she notices. When another wave of heat comes I lean further, pushing my weight on the century old wood banister, gold paint chipped after years of wear.

Fuck, I am going to puke too?

« Second snake coming in. » the lieutenant speaks well despite the pressure. Probably has more practice than we do.

I don't hear the doors behind me open when the heat makes itself unbearable, it's like standing next to an open fire. It doesn't quite burn but the flames feel like they fly close enough to lick at my skin. I tear off my helmet to wipe my face, to wipe my neck of the tingling feeling, but the feeling creeps under my clothes.

« Marsh, you good? » Carter murmurs on the radio, but he's not joking around this time, tone cold and serious. It doesn't fit him.

I only manage a hum, not even turning on my radio before my knees eventually crumble, bringing me down with them. I manage to keep one hand on the banister, the only thing still keeping from fully falling head first. My left hand is still on my neck scratching at the unbearable itch.

I think I see someone lean close to my right hand, blazer nearly grazing my fingers, but my vision has become even worse, only vague shapes and light appearing. I look up and try to focus, squinting to clear my eyes. Who's that?

He seems tall but that could just be because I'm seated, knees spread to cushion my fall. I can't see his face well but I think he's looking down, he is smiling?

I look down lazily, have the negotiations stopped? I can't hear over deafening pulse beating at my temples, I grip the railing harder. My head snaps to my right when I feel a foot touching mine, he is smiling.

I don't have to decipher more when I feel a strong gust of wind and warmth push me agains the wooden bars. The sound of the explosion comes after, the screaming takes a second more to reach me, wood and stone blasting alike.

Bomb? I cough up for what feels like minutes long, smoke and ash filling the building. I blindly reach for my forehead when I feel the familiar thick liquid run down my face. When I finally manage to open the eye that's not filled with blood, I'm greeted by a torso, shielding me from the commotion.

Black blazer torn and shredded, hair ruffled. I don't think he's smiling anymore, but the heat somehow still doesn't want to stop. I push weakly at his chest, I need to get up, need to check on Carter and Max. Is the lieutenant okay? Who would bomb a meeting with the queen of the fucking dogs?

A hand wipes my hair away, I should cut it. I try to pry it away, but it ignores me, tugs my head right to look at my forehead.

« Fuck off. » I try to sound stern, try to push at the chest again but I merely feel it rumbling under my palm. Weak plea unanswered before I loose consciousness, head cradled in warm hands. 

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hi, let me know if you spot errors in language :)