Read Online Soda Pop Soldier by Nick Cole - Free Book Online

“Just happens after a really awesome firefight when they get ambushed by warriors . . . those things. The aliens. They damage it when they walk into the nest.”
    â€œThe nest?” I ask.
    â€œYeah, that’s where the alien queen makes her nest.”
    â€œWhat if . . . ,” I’m thinking out loud. “What if that’s map number three? What if this map TDF match has an inherent destruction feature? The aliens. They destroy your fortress, forcing you to find and move into the third map before that happens. It’s probably a matter of time before . . .”
    There’s a dull thump on one of the doors. Everyone swivels, guns pointing at the door, watching the dent that’s just appeared there. Then another.
    â€œThey’re here,” whispers Apone.
    â€œYeah . . . matter of time,” says Frost. “We better do something fast ’cause if they get in here, it’s gonna be a real short meet and greet.”
    â€œI think this isn’t the game,” I say. Everybody’s still watching the door. It’s dimpling inward even more. Everyone’s slowly backing away, putting desks and displays between themselves and the rapidly deforming door. “We’ve got to get out to that atmosphere processor. That’s where the next map is. The aliens will destroy both fortresses in a matter of time. We don’t need to wipe out WonderSoft, the aliens will do it for us. Drake, have you unlocked the vehicle upgrade on that Special Delivery ?”
    â€œPlayed for three years . . . what do you think?”
    â€œGood, call it in and drop it right outside those windows there.” I point out into the dark landscape of wind and rain. I can see shadows moving out there among the rocks and debris. There’s nothing human avatar–shaped about them.
    â€œUh, we can’t get through those windows with just rifles and no explosives, genius. That’s a transparent wall. Guns are useless. We need, at least, a 30 mm chain gun or explosives,” says Dietrich.
    Seams are beginning to appear in the door leading to Medical.
    â€œHang on . . . ,” I say, activating my third streak. “It’s about to get real hairy for a couple of seconds.”
    A seam in the door’s thick welded-plate metal rips open like a shirt. One of the aliens sticks its shiny black bullet-shaped head in. Its grinning jaws snap open as another set of smaller teeth shoot out, dripping thick saliva.
    I fire a quick burst and the thing’s head explodes, its jaws still snapping as the body goes limp.
    â€œI think ‘hairy’ might be an understatement, Question,” whispers AwesomeSauce.
    â€œYeah . . . we’re, like, done,” adds Drake. “I got sixty rounds left and . . .”
    â€œCall in that vehicle now, Drake. Do it! Select the APC!” I shout over the chat. Meanwhile I’m dialing in my last streak. I set the spinning red target hologram on the door the aliens are about to come through.
    â€œReady, everyone . . . you know the drill. Conserve your ammo. Check your targets. Everyone stay frosty and we’ll get through this,” says Apone over the metallic pounding and concussive thuds. The door is coming apart.
    â€œ Escort Gunship, inbound,” announces the game.
    â€œHeads down, everyone!” I yell over the chat.
    The aliens are crawling through, tails whipping, teeth gnashing, claws reaching, opening and closing. Drake begins to fire.
    I turn to see the dropship lowering beneath storm-leaden clouds and the darkness outside, swiveling as it hovers beyond the large windows. Guns extend, centering on the spinning red targeting reticle I’ve placed over the door the aliens are coming through.
    â€œGet down!”
    The dropship’s 30 mm cannons whir to life, smashing the explosive-resistant window to shards, sending a hazy stream of ball ammunition right