Karpov's Mountain - (short fiction) (465 hits)
Category: GeneralLabels: fiction
Rating: 2 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack 11058 (View user info) at 2006-10-10 14:43:11 EDT
Karpov labored up the hillside, his shadow stark against the snow. Behind him, Saint Petersburg burned.
The heat lay like a weight across his stooped shoulders and the snow was melting in trickles, slowing his ascent up the rocky, ice-covered path. He reached a small level area and stopped for a moment to gather in his breath, chest heaving. He turned his eyes to the city of his birth, shuddered, and turned away. There would be nothing left of it before dawn, only three hours away.
The smoke was a haze of dirty cloud, blowing low to the west, towards the Gulf of Finland. It shrouded the hill with a mist that smelled of urban death: charcoaled concrete, toasted chemicals, burning garbage, and copper-sweet roasted flesh. The enemy circled the city, alternately appearing from the smoke and disappearing as they dove towards the city and then rose into the sky. Wherever the enemy passed, fresh fire and explosions appeared. Karpov retched at the side of the path, but only small, sticky strings of saliva came up. He spat, wiped his mouth, and continued.
The winding path immediately became more strenuous as it came within sight of the summit. Karpov hit a patch of watery ice, and his hastily buckled crampons failed to gain purchase. He slipped badly, cracking his knee on a jutting rock, the impact sending him tumbling to the side. He sent a hasty prayer to the Holy Mother as he grasped at a smoldering pine. His shoddy, worn leather gloves shredded on the harsh bark, and he felt splinters slide into his palms. Sending of his prayer with a string of invective, he struggled to his feet. He had to gain the top.
The hill shook with the sound of heavy, automatic fire. Someone had finally unlimbered the anti-aircraft gun and was firing up into the sky. He looked up and watched the tracers as they drew an uneven jittering line over his beloved city. Probably some damned untrained Border Guard private. That was about all that was left anyway. Karpov had been an Air Defense Force Master Sergeant before shrapnel shredded his knee at the battle of Kamchatka five years before. That knee, the one that hadn't hit the rock, screamed in pain under the stress. He had put on quite a few pounds since mustering out; that certainly wasn't helping. He fought the urge to retch again, this time from shortness of breath.
He stumbled along again, a stitch flaring up in his side, legs cramping. At the top, the AA gun kept up a steady hum of rounds until it was hit and exploded, awash in flame. The screams of the gun crew echoed as the fire consumed them. Karpov cursed again. This was one of the last gun emplacements around the city. Not that the fucking city could be saved, but he wanted a measure of revenge before it was completely gone. The enemy largely ignored the AA. It was their nature; they focused only on their target - their prey.
Still he tried for the hill, as small black specks danced in his vision. Flakes began to fall around him, and it was a moment before he realized it wasn't snow, but ash. His lips skinned back, exposing rotten, crooked teeth. In spite of his body's bulk, his face had remained unnaturally thin.
At last, he gained the summit. The AA gun was a twisted hulk of melted steel. Three burning bodies lay trapped in the metal. Hopeless. A couple of rounds cooked off, and he dropped painfully to the ground and rolled for cover behind a couple of crates. He'd planned to man the gun, since he'd had previous experience during the Vladivostok campaign and, of course, during the Kamchatka debacle. Now, he'd only be able to watch the city burn. Karpov sat up and reached for the bottle in his coat pocket. Miraculously unbroken! He uncapped and tilted it back. It burned all the way down. He lowered his head onto his folded arms. It was then he got a really good look at the crates. "9K36 Strela-3/Nato: SA-14 Gremlin". The supply train had gotten through after all.
Karpov thanked the Virgin Mother and tossed the bottle aside. He opened the crate, revealing the long olive-colored tube. Thank Christ, it was a newer model with the advanced infrared targeting system, not the passive infrared of the 1990's model. His training came back easily as he quickly went through the diagnostics.
He pulled the launcher out of the crate, checking the safety and flipping on the targeting system. It lit up with a satisfying hum. He shrugged it to his shoulder, moving into a crouch. The sickening light of the dying city, the last great surviving bastion of the Motherland, showed what his old Armenian unit captain had called a "target-rich environment".
Karpov sighted in carefully, waiting for one of the enemy to circle closer to the hill. There! His finger tightened on the trigger. He waiting just a second longer, trying to steady his aim. He couldn't seem to get his breathing under control, and the stitch in his side hadn't improved. Close enough. Even shaking as he was, he couldn't miss. He squeezed gently.
Nothing.
"Fuck your mother!" he screamed, tremors coming over him. He hadn't nearly killed himself climbing the damn hill for this! There were still two other crates. He slung the missile off his shoulder and was getting ready to fling it down the side of the hill when he saw the safety was still on. He cursed again, this time at himself. He carefully pushed in the safety button until it clicked and popped out again, showing a ring of red at the base.
Karpov righted the launcher over his shoulder once again. He needed a new target. He found one quickly. The enemy flew low. On the aiming screen, a red flash showing the infrared had locked on to a significant heat source. He was having difficulty aiming the damn thing. The muzzle was drooping and the black specks were back in front of his eyes. He grunted and lifted the tube higher. A white flash on the aiming screen brought his eyes to the sky. His target was turning away from the city, flying directly at his hill. It was huge, and fast. So fast.
Karpov squeezed, and his left arm went numb. A blast of searing heat from the back of the tube burned at his ass. The missile jumped out of the tube until it reached a meter up. Karpov watched it level off and streak forward like a turned-loose horse directly at the enemy that was rushing the hill.
The explosion knocked him down, and was so bright he was blinded for a moment. When his vision came back, the enemy filled his vision. It bore down on him, trailing smoke from a great rent in its armor. Slowly it canted to the side and down. Karpov lay flat, bracing for impact. The numbness in his arm turned to an electric tingling.
Impact. Karpov bounced into the air and landed clumsily. His breath was knocked cleanly out of his lungs. The enemy had crashed into the base of the hill underneath the gun, judging by the plume of smoke that was rising up to join the cloud over his city.
He tried to stand, and found he couldn't. Nor could he gather his breath to try again, so he crawled. His left arm was useless, so he used his right and pushed with his creaking knees. He pulled himself over the lip and looked down at the ruin below.
The enemy had been nearly vaporized by its impact with the hill. Bits of plate armor were scattered about. Giant gouts of steaming black blood steamed up from the rocks. Karpov's chest contracted as his heart gave in.
"The Strela-3 was always the best against the fucking dragons!" he murmured contentedly, and then died.
User Reviews
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-10-11 05:59:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
very nice jack
do you want to take my place in UM?
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2006-10-11 05:38:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
dave,
sandbox is about half through. that, and other time commitments is why i missed UM.
-jack
Submitted by Arizhel (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:42:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by omnifica (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:58:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That's my boy- I missed reading these. Next, please!
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2006-10-10 15:27:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WOO JACK
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-10 15:06:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good to see you back, my man
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-10 15:06:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Why the hell are you not in UMIV?
I could have taken some pride in getting beaten by you.
You Fuck.
Onto other matters, how goes the "Sandbox"?
Some of us still remember you.
-Dave
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-10-10 15:02:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:55:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet.
Even though you said I look annoying.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:52:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool.
You shouldn't have killed him off, and made it a series.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:47:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
SHORT ?THAT WASNT SHORT! I HAD TO SCROLL IF IT WAS SHART IT WOULD HAVE FUCKING HAVE FUCKING FIT ON MY HOLE SCREAN!!!@!
Fun stuff, man. Dragons, but not gay fantasy dragons.