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Literature Text
Delivery Agent
The small group of four men looked out the window of the plane. White puffs exploded behind them and as they got closer the four winced. Soon the booms of the Anti-Aircraft fire came even closer.
The four nodded at each other and grabbed the drab green packs from the back of the plane. "Open it up," shouted the taller man.
In seconds the back of the plane opened up, giving the small group an unrivaled view of the quickly approaching enemy fire.
One by one all four jumped out. The air rushed past them as they glided past clouds and flack alike, arms close to their side, plummeting downward like human torpedoes.
Soon the ground peaked through the clouds, green mountains spotted with black, burnt, forests. The four swerved as a blast detonated somewhere nearby.
The four looked moved to what they hopped was out of range of enemy fire and, as the ground came up at them, pulled the release and activated their parachutes. The four drifted down among the clouds hitting the ground at a roll, they all freed their parachutes in the same quick, efficient motion and came up running.
In minutes they reached their destination, a drab boulder in the middle of a small forest, parts of which was burning. All of them quickly shirked their unmarked drop uniforms to reveal crisp black Special Ops uniforms underneath. Again the tallest of their group waved his hand over the rock, as if summoning some ancient earth spirit to attention, and the boulder rolled to the side. The four men stepped in and the bolder rolled closed behind them.
----
The field was a light green under perpetually blue skies. As far as the eye could see there was naught but nature. In the center of the lush grassland was a small house. It was a style of house that had long since been abandoned. It was constructed of old wood with artistically chipped paint. Out in front a man, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose open shirt moved with a deliberate slowness. He worked over a line of clothes. With the efficiency of motion that comes from extreme repetition, he clipped up a shirt, pulled the string over and clipped another shirt up. He stood there, putting each shirt up with dry efficiency, thinking of other things.
A slight whoosh surprised the simple man. He turned to see four men, each in pure white bio-chem clean suits, had appeared out of nowhere. A frown creased his weathered and tanned face at this sudden arrival. The four headed straight towards him, taking careful steps and being cautious not to breach their suits. The four Plexiglas mask windows gleamed with the reflected light of the sun, blinding him as they turned their attention towards him.
When they got close enough he looked into their safety masks to see their stiff, hard, faces. Coming out of air filters, their voices sounded mechanical.
"We're sorry sir. Everything moved too fast. They're nearly upon us. We don't have the time, or resources, to create any other solution."
The open shirted man nodded.
One of the four stepped forward with a needle. "We'll need a sample, for… afterwards."
He nodded again and pulled up, revealing a muscled and tan arm.
The clean-suited man quickly inserted the needle, attempting to make it painless as possible. "Thank you, sir. You'll be remembered by your country."
The group saluted the simply dressed man.
------
He had been rushed over enemy troops, their huge machines of war rolling forward beneath him. It didn't take long before the spotted him and concussive blasts rocked the plane. He abandoned the plane, which spiraled down behind him, and drifted downwards on his parachute. Underneath his jumpsuit he could still feel the rough woolen shirt that he hadn't had time to change out of.
He spiraled down and saw the enemy, men and women not much different from himself, looking upwards, guns drawn. As he got closer he let out a little cough. The ground quickly approached and he looked down on the poor enemy. Enemy solders began to moan slightly. As he got lower the huge carpet of solders began to bend over in cramped pain. Soon men began to fall, their last words, hacking coughs.
He hit the ground too fast, without any precautions and his legs crumpled beneath him. As he fell to the ground, blacking out from the pain, so did the solders around him.
The small group of four men looked out the window of the plane. White puffs exploded behind them and as they got closer the four winced. Soon the booms of the Anti-Aircraft fire came even closer.
The four nodded at each other and grabbed the drab green packs from the back of the plane. "Open it up," shouted the taller man.
In seconds the back of the plane opened up, giving the small group an unrivaled view of the quickly approaching enemy fire.
One by one all four jumped out. The air rushed past them as they glided past clouds and flack alike, arms close to their side, plummeting downward like human torpedoes.
Soon the ground peaked through the clouds, green mountains spotted with black, burnt, forests. The four swerved as a blast detonated somewhere nearby.
The four looked moved to what they hopped was out of range of enemy fire and, as the ground came up at them, pulled the release and activated their parachutes. The four drifted down among the clouds hitting the ground at a roll, they all freed their parachutes in the same quick, efficient motion and came up running.
In minutes they reached their destination, a drab boulder in the middle of a small forest, parts of which was burning. All of them quickly shirked their unmarked drop uniforms to reveal crisp black Special Ops uniforms underneath. Again the tallest of their group waved his hand over the rock, as if summoning some ancient earth spirit to attention, and the boulder rolled to the side. The four men stepped in and the bolder rolled closed behind them.
----
The field was a light green under perpetually blue skies. As far as the eye could see there was naught but nature. In the center of the lush grassland was a small house. It was a style of house that had long since been abandoned. It was constructed of old wood with artistically chipped paint. Out in front a man, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose open shirt moved with a deliberate slowness. He worked over a line of clothes. With the efficiency of motion that comes from extreme repetition, he clipped up a shirt, pulled the string over and clipped another shirt up. He stood there, putting each shirt up with dry efficiency, thinking of other things.
A slight whoosh surprised the simple man. He turned to see four men, each in pure white bio-chem clean suits, had appeared out of nowhere. A frown creased his weathered and tanned face at this sudden arrival. The four headed straight towards him, taking careful steps and being cautious not to breach their suits. The four Plexiglas mask windows gleamed with the reflected light of the sun, blinding him as they turned their attention towards him.
When they got close enough he looked into their safety masks to see their stiff, hard, faces. Coming out of air filters, their voices sounded mechanical.
"We're sorry sir. Everything moved too fast. They're nearly upon us. We don't have the time, or resources, to create any other solution."
The open shirted man nodded.
One of the four stepped forward with a needle. "We'll need a sample, for… afterwards."
He nodded again and pulled up, revealing a muscled and tan arm.
The clean-suited man quickly inserted the needle, attempting to make it painless as possible. "Thank you, sir. You'll be remembered by your country."
The group saluted the simply dressed man.
------
He had been rushed over enemy troops, their huge machines of war rolling forward beneath him. It didn't take long before the spotted him and concussive blasts rocked the plane. He abandoned the plane, which spiraled down behind him, and drifted downwards on his parachute. Underneath his jumpsuit he could still feel the rough woolen shirt that he hadn't had time to change out of.
He spiraled down and saw the enemy, men and women not much different from himself, looking upwards, guns drawn. As he got closer he let out a little cough. The ground quickly approached and he looked down on the poor enemy. Enemy solders began to moan slightly. As he got lower the huge carpet of solders began to bend over in cramped pain. Soon men began to fall, their last words, hacking coughs.
He hit the ground too fast, without any precautions and his legs crumpled beneath him. As he fell to the ground, blacking out from the pain, so did the solders around him.
Entry for ~penpushers contest 3. Oh yea, and I really liked writing the beginning sequence.
© 2004 - 2024 Phifty
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