Play TimeA Story by Joseph J. MaddenSometimes reality is not what it seemsHe stopped amongst the thickest brush, listening intently.
Not far off, perhaps as close as the tree line, they were coming in after him.
A dozen troopers, maybe more, and they were headed in his direction. Being here in the woods now gave him the advantage. He could
move more stealthily than the armored troops could, and with the canopy above
blotting out the sunlight and the sky swiftly darkening in the West with the
approach of the storm, it would soon be dark as night in the forest. But he could not stay hidden in the woods forever. He had
to make it to the town by night or he would be out of luck. He had to meet with
the other resistance leaders soon or they would vacate, fearing capture of
their own. He had to press on. A sound to his left, the not so subtle crunching of brush
beneath booted feet, gave him a start. The troops were closer now, possibly
even aware of his location, and coming in his direction. He could hear themtheir
commander giving orders. Too close.
He had to hide. Dropping to his stomach, he crawled under the low hanging
branches of an evergreen, pressing himself up against the trunk. Fallen needles
from the tree scratched at his exposed skin, pierced his clothing in spots, but
they were a minor irritation. Discovery and interrogation in and enemy
stronghold would be much more of an annoyance. He concealed himself just in time. From his hiding spot he
could see several pairs of boots emerge from the bushes, stopping where he had
just stood moments before. He could hear them speaking in hushed tones, could
sense their nervousness. Despite their greater numbers, he knew they believed
the rumors about this old, black forest. Spirits of the damned haunted these
woods, outsiders were told. Even the bravest of souls sometimes failed to
emerge from this dark place. Great beasts, hungry for man-flesh lurked here. Even the trees are carnivorous, one old
local had told him. He did not believe the legends, but from the whispered,
urgent voices he heard, he knew his enemy believed, and that was something else
he could possibly use to his advantage. If
he could ever get out from under this tree. He blinked sweat from his eyes, but dared not move to wipe
it away, lest he make enough noise to give away his position. The weather was
not very warm, but the humidity pushed ahead of the approaching storm made the
air thick with moisture. In the distance, thunder announced the nearing of the
storm. It was echoed by the cry of some wild forest creature. The troops seemed to start at the feral sound, and their
discussion became more urgent. The commander barked an order and the group
started off once more, splitting into two groups. One marched off deeper into
the forest, but the other group headed in the direction of the village that was
his destination. He waited until he could no longer hear them, then waited
ten minutes longer, lest they be lying in wait for him, before emerging from
his hiding place. He made a cautious survey of the area, cocking his head and
listening intently for any sound of the troops’ return, or of possible ambush. Nothing.
They did indeed seem to have moved on. Brushing the dirt and evergreen needles from his clothes
and skin, he pulled his blaster from its holster and checked its charge.
Satisfied, he then checked the rifle he carried. That too, had ample power. He
took stock of the other weapons available to him. He knew a fight was inevitable now that the troops were
between him and his destination, but their numbers were less now, and he had an
advantage. They thought he was still ahead of them. Striking from behind, and
playing on their fears, he had a better than average chance. He hefted his rifle. “Play time.” He made good time, despite his continued stealth. He knew
exactly where to go; the troops were not cautious about covering their tracks.
Soon they were within his view; six of them tromping through the brush, making
no attempt to hide their position. He followed them at a distance; just far enough behind to
keep them within sight. When he did make his move, he wanted to be sure the
other group that had split off would not be able to come to their aid too
quickly. After some time the trees began to thin out and he knew he
would have to act soon. They had paused on a ridge overlooking a valley and in
the distance, the outer edge of the village could be seen. He would have to
take them out before reaching the outskirts. He could not afford to fight them
on open ground. He crept up on their position, hiding behind the thick
trunk of a tree, peering around its bulk to be sure that none of them were
aware of his approach. They appeared relaxed, taking a break from their search
before continuing onward. He reached to his belt and grabbed one of the circular
objects hanging there. Twisting the tab on the top, he waited for a count of
five, then rolled it gently into the midst of them. One spotted it just as it
came to rest, but before he could voice an alert, there was a dazzling flash of
light, sending the troops scattering. He was in motion the moment the flash bomb went off,
leaping into the clearing, going into a tuck-and-roll, and coming up with both
blasters in his hands. The troops, still stunned by the sudden assault, had no
time to react. He made very short work of them. As the last trooper fell, he scanned the area around him,
watching for a counter attack from behind every tree and shrub. Nothing
happened. The silence of the forest closed in around him once more, only the
sound of the second squad leader coming through on one of the downed troops’
helmet comm systems. “Squad Six, come in! Squad Six, acknowledge! Have you
engaged the target?” He grabbed the comm from the fallen trooper, switching it
on to respond. “Target has been engaged,” he replied calmly, then he grinned. “Target
has won.” He threw the comm on the ground, crushing it beneath his
boot. Then proceeded down into the valley towards the village. It did not take long to reach the village. It was quiet. Too quiet. He found the street he was
looking for with little effort. Down at the far end was the building he sought. He was nearly at his destination when another figure
stepped out of the bushes and blocked his way to the steps. They were equally
matched size-wise, but his adversary wore a swirling black cape and helmet that
disguised his facial features. He held
out a black gloved hand. “You have gone far enough, Vance Argon. You will go no
further.” Argon leveled his rifle at the newcomer. “Who are you?” The intruder straightened up, trying to make himself look
larger, and pointed a finger at his chest. Thunder cracked overhead, and the
sky opened up in a torrential downpour. “My name is. . .Dave Vaydahr” He pulled
an electro-sword from beneath his cape and lit it. “Remember that name, for it
is the name of your doom.” Another crackle of thunder. From behind Dave Vaydahr came another voice, one so
unexpected that both of them jumped at the sound of it. “Would you two idiots
get inside? You’re going to get struck by lightning.” Vaydahr moved out of the way, revealing the speaker, a
short, olive-skinned woman that glared at them both in a way that was more
intimidating than if she had been wielding a planet-shattering weapon in their
direction. Vance rolled his eyes. “Mom, it’s just a thunder shower.”
It came out more of a whine than he had hoped. “I don’t care,” Mom replied, pointing to Vaydahr. “I am not
going to be the one to explain to . . .Duck Nader’s mother why he got struck by
lightning while playing at our house.” “Vaydahr,” Vaydahr
corrected. “Dave Vaydahr.” Mom glared at him, but refused to respond. “And you, Vance. You just got over being sick. I
won’t have you missing any more school because you caught a cold by being too
dumb to come in out of the rain.” “But Mom . . “ She held up a single finger, silencing him immediately. “Do
I have to call your father?” “No, ma’am,” he sighed. Triumphant, Mom turned and went back into the house. Vance looked at his nemesis, shaking his
head. “Dave Vaydahr? You couldn’t
come up with anything more original than that?” Vaydahr removed his helmet, revealing a round-faced boy;
sweat-soaked sandy colored hair plastered to his forehead. He shrugged. “Best I
could come up with.” Rolling his eyes,
Vance walked toward the house as Dave struggled to sheath his electro-sword
through his belt loop. After the third failed attempt, he settled on tucking it
under his arm as he followed along. “I suppose we could watch some T.V. I taped
last night’s Battlestar.” Dave shrugged again. “Sounds good to me.” Vance held the door open, allowing Dave to enter first. He rolled
his eyes again. “Dave Vaydahr . . .geez.” © 2014 Joseph J. MaddenAuthor's Note
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Added on May 24, 2014 Last Updated on May 24, 2014 Tags: fun, humor, adventure, action, fantasy, science fiction, heroic characters AuthorJoseph J. MaddenSheboygan, WIAboutBorn and raised in NY, I now live in WI with my wife and three daughters. A long time fan of science fiction and fantasy, these are my genres of choice to read and write in. My first novel, The .. more..Writing
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