The Heartless Bastard

[OobleckTheGreen]

Only three survived the crash landing. Some might call that luck, but it was merely a delay of the inevitable.

Jon the huntsman was first on his feet. He staggered to his Enfield and took stock of the situation. Bad. Very bad. Ruins of the ship were scattered around the remains of his escape pod, and he dimly saw the movement of two other survivors through the smoke. He gazed around forlornly. What a stinking rathole of a place to land on.

Over the next few hours, Jon and his two fellow survivors acclimatized themselves to their new home. Stewart was a construction worker by trade, and Mills was a scholar and researcher. Himself a natural leader and soldier, Jon took charge of his small group and set upon the task of building a shelter.

They worked tirelessly for two days, fighting fatigue and eating uncooked rations that had been found in the wreckage. Jon put together a plan and the three men began building. Mills discovered a geothermal vent nearby and the band of three quickly diverted their attentions to building the power supply Jon knew they would badly need to supply lighting, heat, and proper cooking facilities.

It was on the third day that disaster struck. Stewart and Mills were busy finishing the generator when Jon heard the distinct whine of an approaching spacecraft. Snatching his Enfield, Jon sprinted to the foot of a small hill and watched a tiny craft land in the distance. Three men stepped out of the craft, and even from this distance Jon could tell they were armed with guns and bad intentions. He raced back to the camp, heart pounding in his chest.

The three settlers quickly erected a perimeter of sandbags and feverishly attempted to build an automated defense turret before the raiders arrived. Before a spade had been placed in the ground, a shot rang out from the hills. The raiders were attacking!

The three settlers hid behind the sandbags. Helplessly they watched as two of the raiders pulled long rifles from their backs and took up strategic positions in the rocks. The third raider began circling around in what appeared to be an attempt to flank the house. What was he doing? Jon ordered Stewart and Mills to focus their fire on the third raider, but try as they might, he kept inching closer and closer without taking a hit.

Jon didn't understand the raider's intent, but he could see no weapon. He turned his attention back to the two in the rocks and began shooting. Jon's military training gave him an edge over the raiders. He scored minor hits upon both raiders in the rocks, despite their superior position. Taking careful aim, he fired once more and saw his target jerk and fall to the ground. He smiled. The tide of the battle was turning his way.

Scanning the rocks for the other raider, Jon saw movement out the of corner of his eye. Something small arced through the air and broke inside the sandbag barrier. Suddenly there was fire everywhere! Someone was screaming and with horror he saw that it was Mills, the researcher. Mills ran screaming into the open and at that moment, another Molotov came smashing down, completely engulfing him in flames. His flaming body fell and could no longer be seen through the inferno.

A rage overtook Jon. He screamed at Stewart to follow and both men charged Mills' killer with guns blazing. In seconds he was dead, and moments later so was the remaining raider. The battle was over, but the price of victory was overwhelming. Both Jon and Stewart fell into their beds, exhausted and badly hurt.

A day later the two bedraggled men wearily set to the task of repairing their home. Unnoticed during the battle, the fire from the Molotovs had spread to the walls and burnt an entire section. They spent the better part of an afternoon clearing the rubble, and then tiredly dug graves for their dead friend and the three raiders. Stewart argued that the raiders be left to rot, but Jon knew he couldn't stand the sight of their stinking corpses for another moment.

That night they dragged themselves to bed in utter exhaustion, and Jon wondered if the fates had all conspired against him.

Jon was started awake by a monstrous noise! Moments later he heard the not-too-distant report of thunder. He went outside and stood in the drizzling rain, watching lightning dance across the sky. Suddenly a huge bolt tore through the clouds and smashed into his house, setting it ablaze! He screamed at Stewart to help him battle the fire, but Stewart's will had been broken. He stood in a daze as the fire engulfed their home and took no notice of Jon or the inferno licking at his feet. He wandered into the desert in a trance.

Jon could not put out the fire. He stood by helplessly with no firefighting tools of any kind to aid in his predicament. He momentarily pondered the irony that he could build a geothermal power generator but not a water pump or even a simple bucket. His house burned around him.

Suddenly he heard screaming from behind him. Stewart was flailing his arms, beating the air around him. Two small furry creatures with long bushy tails were launching themselves at Stewart's legs and neck, biting furiously. Stewart continued screaming but did nothing to defend himself. Jon knew he would be dead in moments unless he took action. Aiming his Enfield carefully, Jon blew apart one of the small creatures from close range. The other stopped its attack on Stewart and launched itself at Jon! Jon fired and fired, but the creature was small and fast. He was bleeding in several places before he finally bashed it into nothingness with the butt of his rifle.

Jon stood in a daze of complete despair. On the ground before him was the nearly dead form of Stewart, blood running copiously from dozens of wounds. Jon knew Stewart wouldn't last the night. He turned, and watched the walls of his home tumble down as the flames turned them to cinder.

He sat down on a rock, all care of settling this hell gone away from him. He closed his eyes in surrender and listened to the crackling roar of the fire as it destroyed what remained of his life. His ears barely registered the thunderous sound of hooves of the massive creature that was converging upon him in a rabid stampede. When the beast gored him with its horns and threw his nearly lifeless body back upon the ground, Jon could only await his death.

He didn't know where the thought came from. It was an inexplicable notion, and one that had been encroaching the edges of his fading awareness like a voice from the abyss. Jon muttered the strange words to himself one last time before he died: "Randy Random, you heartless bastard."

[a89a89]

Pretty good! Keep up the good work!

[RedStorm58]

AWESOME. Nuff said : )

[OobleckTheGreen]