Hammurabi had been a sergeant in a branch of the military that few knew about. On the day of the impact, his best friend, known as Stick, and himself had been transporting their platoons gear to a conflict that was off the books.
However, after the impact they quickly found that they were soldiers in a war that was forgotten in a country that didn’t exist.
So they decided to take their gear and head for Hammurabi’s home. Hammurabi was known as ‘Hammer’ at home, and for good reason. Growing up, there wasn’t a fight he shied away from and even less that he hadn’t won. He also happened to have a pack of brothers who were almost as mean, but lacked the discipline.
When Hammer and Stick got on the scene, his brothers were already running the local towns for protection and had a pretty good setup. The military gear and a bit of know-how took them to the next level.
Hammer didn’t approve of everything his brothers liked to do, but the world had literally blown up, so what the fuck was he supposed to do about it? The last trip had given them enough food and booze for a few weeks, and Hammer had decided to see if Stick wanted to scout around a bit and get away from the camp. Hammer swerved on his large bike to miss a fallen stone on the trail and was just about to wave over to his younger brother, who the boys called Wrath.
Just as he raised his arm, he saw the upper half of Wraths’ torso disintegrate. They were under attack.
Most of the others began to break for the camp, which was close. A couple stopped and sought cover among the large boulders. Rifle bullets found them first.
Hammer’s bike screamed at the top of its RPMs as it roared down the trail and made for the final stretch of their camp. He knew they had stayed in one place too long. He had told Wrath and looked over to see his last remaining brother, Pest, was gunning his bike on his heels. Good, he thought.
Looking over his shoulder he turned to see the last man in their column swerve a bit to the right and explode from what looked like an IED explosion. The bike and the man were gone.
“IED!” Hammer yelled to his brother who nodded and began to unsling the big blaster from his back. The large caliber rounds continued to rain down around the fleeing bikes and even with the engines roaring he could hear the blasts shake the very earth.
They had to make it to camp.
As they made the safety of the rise, Hammer directed everyone to make their way to the far side of the hill. That should give them cover from the sniper's big gun.
One of the bikes, it looked like Tom, put his ride down on the dirt and started sprinting for the cover of the tents. He only made it two steps.
With Tom still bleeding out in the grass, the rest of the men, only six left at this point, willingly followed Hammer to the fireside.
As soon as they got there, he knew he had made a mistake.
Bast sat in the shade of one of the tall cypress trees that gave this side of the camp a bit of shade and waited for the bikes to pool up. Only six had made it, which was about what they had expected to make it past their gauntlet.
She could see one of the big brutes looking at her when she pressed the activate button on the set of claymores that ringed the little clearing; she smiled.
The women left the camp a burning ruin and stood on the little rise where Sekh had spent so many hours imagining just this outcome. Bast could see the tears streaming down her face, which was a strange juxtaposition with the fanged mask she now wore over her face.
“I could use someone to watch my back,” Bast said.
“I’ll never go back to Hope,” replied Sekh.
