Prologue “Campfire Tales”

“Odin’s men rushed forwards without armour,

were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen,

and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them.

This was called Berserkergang…”

The dancing flames flickered violently as a cold wind blew in across the compound. The four figures who were huddled around the old oil drum, pulled their capes a little closer around their necks to ward off the chill of the night. The night watch, from midnight until four, was always hard, but the bitter cold was draining the last of the trooper’s courage.

‘Throw another log on the fire would you,’ Stofan asked, as she hugged herself tightly to keep out the cold.

Coloroso duly obliged and the fire sparkled and crackled as the heavy log hit the smouldering embers, sending bright sparks whirling skyward.

‘You want to hear a story?’ McGagh asked darkly, pulling a hip flask from his uniform pocket and taking a swig, then offering it around. ‘Not one of Vinny’s crap ghost stories, a real story?’

‘Hey!’ an alarmed Coloroso exclaimed. ‘Alcohol’s forbidden on duty.’

McGagh gave him a disgusted look. ‘You haven’t been out of the academy long, have you lad?’

Coloroso shook his head.

McGagh pushed the flask towards him. ‘This is best Irish whiskey. If you don’t take a drink, then I’ll be offended, and so will my family and all of our ancestors. You don’t want to offend my family, do you lad?’

The underlying threat was clear. Coloroso took the flask and swigged a shot down, the harsh spirit stinging his insides. As he did, he noticed a tattoo on McGagh’s outstretched right hand. It read “Drink”. On McGagh’s left hand, the hand he preferred to punch with, he had another tattoo which read “Feck”. Coloroso passed the flask to Vinny on his left and then the others duly took a drink, the warmth of the strong spirit spreading across their chests. When the flask arrived back to McGagh, he took another deep drink and then stared into the flames, deep in memory.

‘Four years ago, just out of the academy myself, I was stationed on Mars. There had been grumblings from the Martian government for years. They didn’t like being ruled from Earth and wanted independence from the United Worlds. Our platoon was guarding the main gates of the local United Worlds headquarters in the capital city of Belatu-Cadros.’

‘Shit…’ Stofan whispered.

She knew what was coming. Every veteran in the navy knew about Belatu-Cadros. Vinny and Coloroso were probably too young to have heard the real story yet. Sure, they would have seen it on the news, but the media held back the goriest details. They were both looking on intently, their eyes shining in the dancing firelight with the innocence of youth.

‘Mars was still dusty then,’ McGagh continued. ‘The atmosphere processing was only half done. The magnetic pole shield had just been activated but the water hadn’t been released from the ice-caps yet. It was a hot, dry, hard-baked planet. Breathing was like being at high altitude; low oxygen and it hurt your ribs. We still had to use breathing masks when the grit storms came down from the slopes of Olympus-Mons. It felt a little like hell. The only good thing about being stationed there was that the low gravity made moving around a little easier.’

McGagh stared off into the distance before taking another swig of whiskey and then grimacing, he bared his teeth and made a sucking sound through them.

‘There had been demonstrations, banner waving and shouting mostly, a bit of pushing and shoving, nothing too violent; nothing that we couldn’t handle. I was on morning watch with ten other troopers at the front gate, all young lads. I’ll always remember those faces… good lads, good blokes. A young girl came up to the front gate, pretty little thing. It wasn’t unusual for the local kids to sell stuff to the troopers, fags, booze, chocolate; anything that was rationed on the base. I remember the lads used to call her “Buttercup”, ‘cause of the flowery dresses that she used to wear. A guy called… Fred Townsend, strolled up to her and asked her what she wanted. I was standing just inside the guard hut. I could see her face clearly. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen…’

McGagh gulped. His mouth had suddenly become very dry.

‘She smiled; such a sweet little thing. I’ll always remember the look in her eyes…’

Stofan placed a reassuring hand onto McGagh’s arm. The big Irish man, tattooed, afraid of nothing and full of bravado, was shaking at the recollection.

‘She said something quietly into Townsend’s ear and his face just went… terrified; white as a sheet. He started running, but it was too late. This little girl, this beautiful flower, she raised her arm in the air and pressed the trigger that she had hidden in her hand.’

There was absolute silence around the fire. The flames whipped down for a moment in a gust of wind as if leaning in closer to hear the story.

‘I saw Townsend for a split second before I blacked out as the blast hit me. He was literally splashed across the ground by the force of the explosion. It even melted his dog tags and the fillings in his teeth. When I came to, there was a pitched battle going on in the streets of the city. We never found out where the insurgents had got the weapons from, or the explosives. Suicide bombers hit several United Worlds buildings in a coordinated attack. Fifty troopers were killed in the first ten minutes. Then their armed guerrilla forces moved in while we were still picking up our wounded.’

Vinny and Coloroso were standing with their mouths hanging agape. Stofan dropped her eyes to the ground. McGagh looked back up from the fire and stared straight into Vinny’s eyes.

‘That was the day that the war against the insurgents really started. That day I learned one thing, Vinny. Never trust anyone, not even a child. The insurgents have no honour, they fight dirty. That’s why I did what I did to that crowd of civilians, why I’ve never been promoted, why nobody trusts me. I’m not proud of it, but any one of them could have been a suicide bomber. I couldn’t take the chance. I’ve paid for that every night since, when I close my eyes and see their screaming faces.’ McGagh paused and took another long drink of whiskey. ‘There’ll be no peace until every insurgent sympathiser is buried in the fucking ground!’

There was another long silence. Stofan was about to speak when the silence was disturbed by a rhythmic banging that suddenly began on the ten-foot-high, wire mesh gate that led into the compound. Vinny leapt towards the guard hut and hit a switch that turned on the overhead spotlights, illuminating the fenced off compound grounds. Stofan, McGagh and Coloroso, legged it over to the gate to see what the noise was.

The three troopers stopped still, their mouths agape. Standing outside of the gates was a young trooper. His helmet was missing, as was the rest of his uniform. He was completely naked and his body was covered from head to toe with cuts and scratches. His face was blank, staring, void of emotion. A strange glow seemed to be coming from deep within his wildly staring eyes. He was hammering ceaselessly on the gate with his left fist.

Pound!

Pound!

Pound!

As the shaken troopers looked on, the most disturbing thing about the completely naked young man, was that he was covered, head to toe, in bright, scarlet, blood. Lumps of flesh and brain matter dripped from his skin. When he bared his teeth as the torchlight hit his face, there was human flesh and matted hair stuck between his crimson stained, snarling teeth. The young man stared at McGagh and fixed onto his face with bloodshot eyes.

‘Help me Paddy,’ he cried, before collapsing into the dust.