| March of the Goliath; Short Story | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 7 2008, 01:17 AM (21 Views) | |
| Cage | Oct 7 2008, 01:17 AM Post #1 |
 
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March of the Goliath The ground shook with every step of the monstrous device. With each convulsion of the earth the trees of the old wood shook, releasing birds into the skies and sending animals running in fear from the horror before them. Beyond the forest, almost a mile from the marching, yet still hidden, device stood the fortification named Promise. Within stood the last survivors of the human race living against all odds in a vein attempt to remain on the planet from whence they came. Their exploration into the depths of the galaxy had uncovered a great many secrets but with these great accomplishments came a dark menace. For all of their research and discovery the human race was unable to stop a great darkness from enveloping their known universe. It was in the very centre of the planet designated gamma omega that the darkness was uncovered and within a month it had torn through every established settlement. In its wake nothing more than ruin filled with death and decay remained. In the closing days of the same month the darkness reached earth and consumed every known city, every living mortal it could before moving on. However the human race turned out to be more resilient than the unknown darkness could have foreseen and Promise gave homage to that fact. Stood atop the huge front gates, the only entrance to the last remaining settlement was Captain René Baptiste. He was a once retired French special forces captain turned hero for hire who jumped at the chance to defend the last survivors of the human race. He was aged, almost in his late sixties, but he still had what it took to get the job done and he wasn’t giving up yet. Out of all of the survivors in Promise, numbering just under two hundred, he was the most experienced, most worldly and thus the most suitable of leaders. Despite this fact he found himself only in charge of the defences, something he begrudgingly agreed to do. The leader of the settlement was one Pablo Ramirez Covas, a Spanish diplomat turned survivor leader. His ethics were often disputable, his methods brash, but still the majority of the survivors supported him as leader. Those opposed to him supported Baptiste and although a mutiny had been an option on several occasions, Baptiste refused to be a part and ordered his supporters to forget such drastic methods. Baptiste’s eyes were fixed firmly upon the overgrown woodland before him. He could see the path the monstrous, still unknown, device was taking straight towards them, the trees before it shaking or falling under its mighty foot steps. The closer the device got to the fortification, the stronger the vibrations became. Several of Baptiste’s fellow guardsmen struggled to keep their footing, Baptiste himself however seemed fixed to the spot. Stern and unmoving, his eyes stared deep into the woodland before him. It was around eight hundred yards between the tree line and the fortification itself, the middle ground covered in a well trimmed sheet of light green grass that moved with the gentle breeze. Five minutes passed before the chaos within the woodland became ever more apparent. On mass animals and birds burst forth from the tree line, running and flying in all directions. Some made directly for the fortification, clawing and scratching at its gates in vein, trying to seek shelter whilst the rest made for the perimeter. By this point the device was almost at the tree line, Baptiste could sense the evil contained within but his will was not going to fall to such foolish fear. Around him his men seemed tense, some of them toying with the idea of running in fear. But seeing their Captain, stern and full of resolve, they kept their fear in check and remained by his side. Another five minutes passed with the world around them almost silent but for the synchronised rumbles accompanied by the rustling of the trees. “Hold steady!” Baptiste shouted, his first words in almost an hour, “Man the cannon’s”. His men did not hesitate, those assigned to cannon duty instantly bursting into action. Along the front of the fortification were four modified artillery cannons, the best armament the survivors could collect during the retreat. Each of the other walls were supported by only two as Baptiste felt the front gate needed to be better armed in case of such an occasion. In seconds the cannons were manned and armed, the ready signal from each resonating across the front wall. “Cannons: On my word, acquire targets!” Baptiste shouted again, “Men: On my word, arm up”. Each of the remaining men moved to the front wall, each looking out into the distance as the unknown device grew closer. “ARM UP!” Baptiste shouted, reaching down and removing his rifle from its position on the ground before him. Another minute passed, and then they set eyes on their enemy. Bursting forth from the tree line, trees thrown to the ground before it and others crushed under foot, emerged the Goliath. It was a monstrous humanoid figure made purely of iron and steel. It stood at almost fifty feet tall and stretched a mighty fifteen foot from shoulder to shoulder. Its head was reminiscent of a crusader knight’s helm and its body, of a full plated warrior. Rested atop its shoulders were two mysterious looking cannons, one each side and dead centre in its chest was a large glowing globe. Within the globe white light seemed to swirl and mix with obsidian shadow. Now and then the faces of fellow human beings could be seen within, a sight that sent shivers down the spines of all those who laid eyes upon the monster. Still Baptiste remained cool; in fact a smirk almost crossed his lips. “Enfin notre ennemi montre son visage!” he whispered under his breath before turning to face each wing of his men, “Cannons: acquire targets, Men: at the ready!”. Copyright© Richard Fitzharris 2008 |
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3:06 AM Nov 24
