Short Story - Life Six

Written by Andrew Genaille
Story by E. Johnson

Jason didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not again.
Jason was trapped in the death grip of an armoured man, who was using his mechanically enhanced strength to crush Jason’s windpipe; the slight points of his thick fingers piercing through the flesh. Jason was strong, his own body genetically enhanced for combat but nowhere near strong enough to pull the gloves away.
But he tried.
He didn’t want to die. So much.
The sound of the black armour crunching around the fingers gave him hope, but like his windpipe, this was crushed. He felt his throat collapsing, his lungs sucking hard for oxygen to no avail as the world around him started going darker.
Panic kicked and in one last ditch effort he swung hard at the overwhelming, emotionless helmet less then a foot from his face; his fist breaking on the metal but denting it in. He swung again, and again, and again.
Until the world went dark.
Then he was dead.
He never knew how long or what became of the body he left behind, to him there was only darkness followed by a sudden realization of form; the sudden input of sense. His nerves turned on through tingling at first as if he had sat on them and put them to sleep, his limbs felt puffy before the pain kicked in.
He sucked in air as quickly as he could not for any other reason than having lost the ability just moments ago, this brought with it the stench of fermenting flesh and oil. It made him want to throw up but that wasn’t an option as he had to quickly focus on getting out.
He reached out of the release as his eyes came to life and switched it, the door swung up allowing him to step out into the Wilderness that had been his home for the last few days; expecting his legs to work like before his foot touched the ground and he collapsed under the gravity. His arms held momentarily and he collapsed right to the ground.
This was normal.
All he could do was wait for his body to catch up to his mind so he decided to roll over onto his back and look up at the sky, the beautiful sky. The peaceful sky.
It was almost enough for him to forget he was at war. Almost but not quite.
He moved his sleeve back to look at his arm where six black lines signified how many lives he’s already gone through, reminding him that he only had four more left. Four lives and then permanent death. He didn’t know if it was something to look forward to as an end to this torture or something to fear because he was nearly done living.
Jason tested his legs again, they worked. He rolled to his side and climbed to his feet, taking off in a run.
Over six feet tall, Jason was able to get a good stride going, twisting and turning around trees; under branches and over deadwood. He had to make up four kilometers to his target before the target had moved too far from where he left it, he didn’t have the time to waste tracking it through the bushes; couple of more hours it would reach it’s own target… and others would die.
Jason worked through his plan as he ran.
The first encounter he had with the Machine he was able to take out some of it’s Kevlar protecting hydraulics in it’s legs, lucky for him it couldn’t put steal over the bendy parts and he was able to slice the cables the second time he fought it. No hydraulics and the Beast couldn’t run, it didn’t have the strength to fully lift it’s 900 pounds.
He tried the arms. Too protected to shut down.
He needed to get the helmet off, rip it from the rest of that thing so he can get at the Head underneath; it was slow and he was fast… he could make that happen.

The Beast turned as its sensors caught movement a kilometer away, its computers quickly identifying Jason as a returning threat and The Man inside prepared himself for combat; he knew there was a limit to how often they would meet.
Jason grabbed a softball sized rock as he passed it and bolted from the trees, leaping off the ground to cover the last thirty feet to the beast; his arm winding up and smashing the rock against the front of the helmet. The rock shattered into forty-three small pieces as it dented the helmet itself a few centimeters, scratching the dark, blue paint.
Jason shoved back as The Beast staggered back from the impact of Jason’s body, giving the unarmoured soldier time to get out of the range of its arms. Then the dance began as Jason tried to maneuver behind The Beast, he needed time on the helmet without the arms finding him.
All he needed was an opportunity.
Jason found it when The Man in the suit grabbed for him, allowing Jason to go under the arm and up onto its back; quickly digging his fingers into the bullet proof and flexible rubber holding the Helmet in place. He tore at it like a man insane.
With a viciousness only a man fighting for his survival would understand. His nails broke when they scraped against metal underneath giving him a place to grip.
A steal hand wrapped around Jason’s shin and pulled, twisting him around and whipping him through the clearing; Jason hit a tree and felt his muscles tear. The air left his lungs and he had a momentary panic as he flashbacked to earlier when this feeling killed him.
He sucked in oxygen as fast as he could.
Then came the punch that shattered his thigh bone and sent unimaginable pain through his body, as the shards tore through muscle and veins; Jason froze for a moment and then screamed his pain as The Beast lifted him up again.
It smashed him against the tree, again, and again; and again.
Jason forced the onslaught to end by reaching out to grab onto the helmet’s opening, pulling with one arm while his other pushed against the shoulder armour.
There was a screech of metal and ripping of rubber as the metal tore off, just before The Beast did the same to Jason; only Jason didn’t have the benefit of a helmet.
It was dark again.
He never knew how long.
He was nothing and then he felt it, a body.

The end