Blazing Panic

Viking cursed when he heard it. The call began with one of the pyros, a simple order born out of panic and duty.

“Burn! Burn it all!”

After that, the word “burn” spread through their numbers until the mountain was consumed by an inescapable echo. Following it were more flames, going out in all directions going up the slope. Screams and gunshots were still present, but the Khardis had reached the pinnacle of their fear response. Viking knew they had to get out of there before they burned alive. Or suffocated. The flame masks the R&D boys gave them did come with oxygen tanks, but it wasn’t a lot; maybe just enough to get out of there alive. They were on a clock, and an unforgiving one at that. He got away from the flames, safely hiding in the brush. Staring in the enemy’s direction, he listened through the crackling of the flames and the continued yells. None of the Berserkers could be heard. Viking took a deep breath.

“FALL BACK!”

He leapt from his position before the nearest pyros could react, disappearing in some tall grass nearby. The Berserkers had discussed their fallback plan before heading out, so he didn’t have to say anymore. Viking ran uphill, keeping his head low. He didn’t repeat the retreat order. The way he figured it, if they didn’t hear him, then they were already dead. Shots rang out along with the sound of flamethrowers firing. Though he didn’t look back, he knew they were aiming in his direction. Thankfully, the Berserkers’ way back inside was close.

“Burn them! Burn the mountain!”

Viking could see where the tunnel entrance was a few yards ahead. It was mostly concealed by a few large rocks and even more tall grass. He glanced to the right. Gallager was running up the mountain. Past him was Stevens. Meeting them at the entrance and continuing to stay low, Viking looked around.

“Where’s Johan?”

“I don’t know,” Stevens said. “I thought I saw him just a few minutes ago.”

“Head inside,” Viking ordered.

“But sir—”

“That’s an order!” Viking ran down the mountain a little bit. “JOHAN!”

No response. A band of five pyros were making their way toward him. He raised his rifle and fired. One fell down. The other four blasted flames at him. Viking ducked down further, but quickly realized none of them knew exactly where he was. Good. That meant they only had the shot to go off of. He dared another, and a second man fell. Another shout for Johan, then move to another position. Still no answer. The flames were growing around him, so he slipped on his mask, and with it went his peripheral vision. He had managed to get used to the heat already, so that wasn’t an issue. However, he was certain the fire would make him easier to spot. Another shot to down a pyro. Only the two left, but one of them must have seen him when he took his shot because a spurt of fire just grazed his back, lighting him up. He swiftly dropped and rolled. More spurts of flame in his direction.

Lying face-up in the grass, he took another deep breath. “JOHAN!”

Flame filled his vision in response, blotting out the sky and the moon. He couldn’t keep this up, but he had to find his comrade. He had to hope he wasn’t dead yet. Barely missing being torched, he rolled again. He stood up, saw the remaining pyros standing side-by-side. Viking dropped the one on the left, then stared at the other one as he brought the bolt of his rifle back. Too late. The pyro’s flamethrower was already pointing at him before a new round was chambered. This was the end. The bright, smiling faces of those two little girls flashed in his mind.

A shot sounded, and the pyro fell backward as he pulled his trigger, sending fire into the air. Viking was alive, but now the other Khardis had a signal to go off of. Who fired? Was it one of the two above? It had to be with how the Khardi’s head snapped back.

Viking took one last deep breath before pulling off his mask. “JOHAN!”

It was a vain attempt. Wherever he was, he was now lost to the blaze. Viking had no choice but to abandon him to his fate. Perhaps when it all was over, they’d find his remains among the ashes. At the very least, Viking knew the lad died fighting like a true Drengr destined for Valhalla’s halls. Viking turned to run back up the mountain before the other Khardis got to him. The edge of the fire was now closer to the cave than it was before. The entrance was still covered, and he saw Stevens, rifle raised, standing just outside. He ducked down at the sound of gunfire from below, firing off a few in response. Viking thought he heard more yelling from the Khardis below.

Stevens followed as Viking dove inside the cave to safety. Gallager was crouched inside, waiting. He shot up once they were in. The three of them broke into a sprint down the tunnel, with Gallager lighting their way.

“Hell of a shot back there,” Viking commended.

“Thank you sir,” Stevens said.

“We need to report to the Commandant and Spartan.”

“Think they’re doing any better up front?” Gallager asked.

“I don’t know,” Viking sighed. “But I doubt it.”

He tried not to think about the orange glow behind them, or how fast the flames spread. Despite their best efforts, the Khardis got their wildfire. No doubt the night’s weather must have helped. To add insult to injury, they were down a Berserker. Viking grit his teeth, setting himself to the goal of killing as many of them as he could for that.