In the Scar of the Earth

Ibrahim was roused first by the hum of the engine miles overhead, then the tugging of his shirt by a small, frantic hand. The young man was alert quickly- he hadn’t a good night's sleep for a decade. Sure, he had gotten used to hard floors littered with shards of glass, metal and prism-agate, the constant haze of Argon smog and smoke, but he would never allow himself the complacence.

Wiping the drool from his unshaven face, he squinted at the starry dusk sky through the tattered roof. Through the smog, he could vaguely make out two small objects overhead. Thankfully, they were not energy vipers; merely fighter jets- likely West Bloc. Still, their presence meant they were leaving.

He thanked the boy, not expecting a response- little Li hadn’t spoken a word since they found him a year and a half ago.

The wild-haired Chinese boy was clearly scared shitless, his eyes wide and glassy in the moonlight. Given where they had found him, this was unsurprising. He patted Li's shoulder.

“It’s gonna be all right. Go get your things, little man.”

Ibrahim didn’t know if they had days or hours before the fighting started. The surrounding lands for miles would be reduced to scorched earth regardless of who prevailed. He scrambled to his feet and leapt to the base of the ruined compound.

“Everyone awake, Jonas?” He caught a plasma rifle the old man tossed his way. The gun was worn and rusted and like to become hot enough to fuse to his skin after half a dozen shots, but it would have to do.

“Minh's preparing our exit strategy. Li, I sent to wake sleeping beauty here.” Jonas glanced up partway through packing supplies. Ibrahim rolled his eyes- he never much liked the old bastard.

“We are doing it underground then?”

“Nah, topside. Minh says the tunnels are lookin’ flooded as hell…won’t hold up to a blasting. Still, we got a day’s tops before we are space dust.” Jonas muttered grumpily, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

Ibrahim sighed in relief- he’d take death in a painless flash of fire over the claustrophobic horrors underground anyday. Scavengers, cave-ins, Worms….he’d heard enough.

Stepping into the moonlight, he scanned the ruins they were about to leave behind.

Minh had told him this flooded jungle of broken buildings and overturned streets was once the city of Haiphong. Frankly, one blasted cityscape or another was all the same to him- although the stout Vietnamese lady had wryly told him over cigarettes X-Day hadn’t changed the city much. Vlorian plasma or American shells, what difference did it make?

Minh claimed to have been a member of ‘The Party’ before the celestial landfall. To this day, she kept that little red book- now stained and unreadable- in her jacket's inside pocket. Anyone could claim anything nowadays, but Ibrahim saw no gain in doubting her.

After all, what did it matter anymore?

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Twelve years had passed since X-Day in 1966. Eleven since the war with the alien bastards got started, although they now knew the worms had been on the ground for a good bit longer.

It was shortly after the birds flew- after the Cuban shambles in 1962, all the international leaders agreed that the world was never to come this close to apocalypse again. And in fairness, the suits did get their shit together before it got that far.

Still, once the first mushroom club rose over Lyon, there was no turning back. Even when the referendum was signed after half a dozen cities were ash, the damage was done; both in millions of lives gone in a flash, and the scar of vengeance.

So when the space men attacked a year later, East and West both correctly ascertained the extraterrestrial invaders were the greater threat, but definitely hated each other more. The Vlorian assault was ferocious, featuring all manner of weaponry mankind had never seen, but humanity could have prevailed. Could have…if there was any trust, any willingness to sacrifice and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with rivals.

But after Lyon, Minsk, Hanoi…there was only opportunism in the three-way mad dash for territory. Future crackdowns would reveal the infiltration campaign the Vlorians, dressed in human flesh, initiated to get the bombs flying. By then, it did little to ease the flames of hatred.

When Vlorian energy vipers sliced the Russian satellites to char siew, European aid was half hearted at best, outright predatory at worst. Koreans looking for refuge along the Yangtze were rebuffed…or worse, for fear of being disguised Worms.

The three sides settled into a dangerous, complacent stalemate- one lasting a decade at the expense of the lost souls of the Occupied Territories- the lands known as the Scars of the Earth

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Ibrahim had found the kid back when it was him, Jonas, and poor pure Hakim; the year they trekked down the Mekong.

That damned port settlement had given them half-assed information for batteries. They had only just began to grok they were heading towards a Vlorian settlement when the gunfire kicked off.

He recalled the sky was stained orange and green with blazing plasma, mortar fire coating the landscape in smoke and fire. He recalled Hakim screaming before being abruptly cut off, Jonas cursing from a broken leg. And how he could scarcely hear any of it over the deafening roar.

Jonas said they got lucky the Chinese had rained hellfire down on the place. He was right- they had no chance if the Worms weren’t distracted so they could flee below ground. Of course, Jonas also had to comment this the day they sent Hakim’s body down the river.

Ibrahim had sent the old bastard sprawling with a bloodied nose, for all the little it made him feel better.

They found the kid in the smoldering remains of the Vlorian camp shortly after.

They silently ignored each other following the scuffle as they scavenged for supplies. Jonas claimed a few energy cells from half a Worm- the other half strung up by its guts several meters away atop a satellite tower.

Ibrahim heard the muffled crying first, barely audible from beneath the earth.

Without seeking the old bat’s approval- he’d heard an annoyed but non-committal ‘tsk’- he rushed into one of the dome-like structures, following the sobs down a sloped tunnel into the darkness of the basement facilities.

The cracked Telyk Agate along the ceiling still dimly lit the ruined corridors in a sickly green glow. Even now, Ibrahim still pondered if he might have been better-off if he could nothing at all. It had not been his first Vlorian encampment, but nothing could have quite prepared him for the horror around him.

Was it a prison? A laboratory? Or was this but the Worms’ entertainment? For all around him on carbon ‘beds’ were men, women, children- or what remained….what had become of them.

It was a vile buffet of the vivisected, and those were the lucky ones. Ibrahim had heard exaggerated tales of mutations caused by the A-bombs, of the survivors in Japan. Even the wildest stories did not match the utter defacement of humanity on display here.

There were men with limbs sprouting like grotesque flowers from their chests. Children's bodies a patchwork of scaly scabs and mucosal skin, their bones sucked from them. Agonized faces with flesh more the consistency of sambal paste than anything from a human.

Only fear kept him from throwing up. Jonas was made of sterner stuff, so he did make a mess on the iridium flooring as he limped down the tunnel behind him.

And there the boy was- stitched and scarred in more ways than one, but unlike the others, very much alive. With his neck restrained so he could only face the ceiling, he lucky to have averted his eyes from the worst of the atrocities around him.

He exchanged looks with Jonas. What now? Should they take the boy? Should they just leave? Was that a boy at all? A pair of nomads certainly didn’t have anything to ascertain whether the child was what he appeared, or a worm in human flesh. The kid had stopped sniffling, and besides the hum of dying machinery an awkward silence hung in the room.

Jonas stepped forward. Ibrahim watched uncomfortably as he dragged himself on his broken leg several body lengths to the table. He placed his hand on the boy’s head, then onto the steel brace holding his head in place.

“What are you standing around for, kid? Come give me a hand.”

They wrenched the brace off his neck in a combined effort. The boy was not mute, but spoke not a word. He was Chinese, they could tell that much from his facial features even in the sim light. Ibrahim hauled the kid over his shoulder as he climbed back out.

A few hours after, as they took a rest by the Mekong, Jonas had decided they would call him Li, since that was “the only Chinese name he knew”. Noone contested it (certainly not the boy). A few days passed with the boy responding to the name consistently. And at that point it stuck.

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Minh was waiting for them under the overhang of Rao Bridge. She almost effortlessly blended into the shade in her black khakis, only becoming visible when she waved- Ibrahim suspected this instinct came from a degree of experience. There was urgency in her posture- this doesn’t bode well.

“What’s the bad news, Minh?” Jonas grumbled.

“We might have….less time than we expected.” Minh’s tone was steady and monotone as it typically became when she was serious. “And my instincts tell me there are already scouts.”

The old bat cursed under his breath. “Well, we had best damn hope those are ‘muricans and not bloody wrigglers.”

Minh led the way and Jonas guarded their rear. As usual, Ibrahim's duty was to watch the boy.

Night was now in full swing, leaving only the light of the moon and stars. The cover of darkness was worthless if an Assault Cyborg passed them with its countless mechanical eyes. Meanwhile, they had neither a flashlight nor the foolishness to use one, leaving them half-blind in the dark city.

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The little island was called Singapore. If one were to take a kayak to its spot on the map in the South China Sea, they would only find open waters. If one were to fly there and the lighting was just right, they might see the submerged crater- a circle a shade darker than the surrounding seafloor.

Ibrahim remembered little of home. He recalled they were simultaneously celebrating and mourning something around the fateful time- the men in white declared it a historic day. Ibrahim was too young to register its significance then, and now as a man he considered it of no significance at all.

Ultimately, the world's powers had little time for Temasek, its neighbors, or any of the region's people. That went for so many newly formed nations across the continent- little more than fresh meat for the Vlorians, as the powers of Russia and America and Europe and the Far East fortified their key territories.

None of the now “Occupied Territories” stood a chance.

When energy vipers descended from the stars, bringing plasma rain and caesium flame, they lasted less than a week. It was all a blur to him now, although Ibrahim remembered being rushed from school through packed streets and stampedes onto a cramped boat.

His parents were not there, and he never saw them again. Now, he struggled to remember their faces.

As the island grew distant, he remembered it being illuminated by green and orange flames raining down from the heavens, searing themselves into his eyes…

And that he never once forgot. Not for a moment.

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Had they gotten careless? Or were they simply so focused on the immediate threat they lost sight of all else?

They had come across a scout as the urban ruins began thinning out. It was an aerial drone, a jet-black wiry thing resembling an oversized dragonfly, wings vibrating so quickly as to be almost undetectable but for a light hum. That had alerted Jonas to its presence; they hid behind a fallen chunk of building as it hovered past.

All of them were aware cover was likely to be grow increasingly scarce, as would their vulnerability to aerial scouts. Perhaps they should have given more heed to what lay beneath their feet.

Eyes peeled to the skies and buildings, bodies low to the ground, it was then they passed over the rusted grates of an old storm drain. Minh signaled, her hands a faint silhouette. They were nearing the sea. From there they would continue along the coast-

Squelch.

It was the sound of pierced flesh and fabric. Ibrahim turned to Jonas and saw the spear, stained with blood and gristle, emerging from his back against the full moon.

A look of confusion passed over Jonas’ face for a moment as blood spouted from his mouth. That expression changed to realization and acceptance, as he aimed his plasma rifle down and fired.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was a cry of pain from the drain and the smell of smoking flesh. Scavengers. Not Worms, but humans, hungry and desperate. Ibrahim grabbed Li, the boy now crying transfixed on Jonas’ corpse. He cursed- they had not anticipated anyone would be mad enough to pull this stunt right before a warzone.

Minh opened fire into the drain, before turning her attention to swiftly approaching footsteps. They were surrounded.

There were seven of them- likely former soldiers judging from their combat-readiness. Minh leapt in front of him, shouting first in Vietnamese, then English

“Take what you need! This place will soon be ashes! There is no reason for this!”

One of the men- seeming the leader- shrugged, plasma rifle still trained on them. He had a pudgy face, and spoke in gravelly, unconcerned tones. “Spare us the concern. You won’t be the first party we have hunted during a Crossfire, won’t be the last. You, on the other hand…” And he opened fire.

She acted quickly, shoving the duo out of the way and firing back. Ibrahim tasted blood as he landed on his face. He turned to Li- the boy was fine. Then he picked up his rifle, trained it on one of the shadows. It jammed- Ibrahim was only half surprised.

Then there was a hail of gunfire all around, followed by several cries of pain- two from the scavengers, and one, to his dismay, from Minh.

Her shoulder was smouldering and hideously charred from a glancing plasma shot, arm hanging uselessly by her side. The veteran soldier’s breath was haggard and heavy, her face stained with blood. She gave Li and Ibrahim one last look as the shadows advanced towards them.

“Run.”

Then she pulled a grenade from her pocket, and pulling the pin, rushed towards the hail of gunfire. She vanished in a flash of fire.

Ibrahim was knocked off his feet. In a daze, he rose to his feet, hauled the unconscious Li over his shoulder, and ran like hell.

He knew not which direction he was headed- perhaps it was back towards the doomed city. Ibrahim did not care, could not care, as it was all he could do to keep them off his trail. He could heart it- the sound of approaching fighter jets in one direction, the whirr of energy vipers in the other. He shut that out of his mind.

He ran and ran, and then he tripped, stumbling into a ravine of broken concrete. Li fell off his back and crumpled into a pile several meters away. And then they were onto him- three shadows dropped around them silently.

“Gave us a good chase, kid. You and your little party sure were trouble.” A scavenger pressed the muzzle of an assault rifle against Ibrahim’s cheek as he attempted to rise to his feet. Ibrahim felt his heart in his throat as he stared death in the face. Despite being full of energy only moments before, the young man found himself unable to move, unable to think of anything.

“Stop!”

The cry shook Ibrahim from his stupor. It was Li- he can speak? The boy was on his feet, staggering towards the scavengers. Pudge-face laughed. “So that thing can do more than cry. Stay down and wait your turn.” Silently panicking, Ibrahim waved at Li to back down. Li gestured back, raising his arm.

Then Pudge-face lurched forward, clutching his chest in evident agony. His veins protruded wildly and his eyes widened into the size of golf balls. Ibrahim seized the opportunity to shove him off- just in time, for an instant later, he violently ruptured in a shower of gore, raining blood and viscera.

For a moment, both scavengers froze in shock, before one screamed and opened fire. His bullets seemed to vanish into thin air before they could reach Li. The boy turned to the hapless scavenger- who too, vanished in an crimson shower of bodily fluids.

The last man dropped his gun and fled the ravine, shrieking in fear and vanishing into the night. Then Li collapsed face first into the dirt. Ibrahim rushed to him- right as the first flashes of battle commenced.

He could hear it now- the rhythmic thudding of mortars striking the earth, sending small clouds of debris rising with every strike. Ibrahim embraced the blood-soaked boy as flashes of green and orange began marked the festival of carnage's advent. He could scarcely comprehend what had jus transpired, what he had just lost, and what the boy in his arms truly was.

But it mattered little to him now, as the pitch black sky was lit with multi-colored flames, the screech of war machines battling like Valkyries piercing his ears. He simply caressed the sleeping child’s head and whispered.

“It’s gonna be all right.”