12dz Chapter 936
Chapter 936
[Time]: Autumn 1956, at sunset
Location: Ruins of the Bayamo River Bridge (North Bank Defensive Position)
Blood flowed down the hilt of the nicked bayonet and into Castro's palm, making his already numb hand even more slippery, and he could barely grip the hilt.
"Pfft."
A bayonet plunged into the throat of a gray ghoul that lunged at him, spraying black, foul blood all over his face, carrying a nauseating stench of rotting flesh.
Castro grunted, raised his limping right leg, and kicked the still-twitching monster off the trench. He was almost completely exhausted. With that kick, his own body swayed uncontrollably, and he leaned against the bullet-riddled sandbags, panting heavily.
Looking around, he could no longer see any of the remaining guerrillas.
The trenches were filled with things. There were human corpses, the remains of those monsters, but mostly rotten flesh mixed together and indistinguishable from one another.
"Put-putt... Crack-crack."
Not far away, an M2 heavy machine gun was firing its last bullet as the surviving gunner roared and fired the last bullet. The sound of the empty chamber hitting the barrel was like a countdown to death.
"That's it!! Commander! We're out of ammo!!"
The machine gunner, his face filled with despair, grabbed a homemade Molotov cocktail from beside him. Before he could throw it, two ghouls, as agile as leopards, leaped over the edge of the trench and pounced on him.
A scream and the sound of a Molotov cocktail shattering and bursting into flames rang out simultaneously. The flames engulfed the man and the two monsters in an instant. He screamed in agony amidst the fire, but the butt of his gun continued to smash desperately against the monsters, who, even as they were engulfed in flames, were still trying to bite his neck.
Castro wiped the blood from his face and tried to help him, but he didn't even have a single bullet left. His prized M1911 pistol had exploded two days earlier due to overheating.
"Shh... Roar—"
More dark figures crawled up from the other side of the riverbank.
Densely packed, layer upon layer. Like a gray swarm of insects constantly pouring out of hell. Even if a wave of Claymore mines shattered, even if a piece of Molotov cocktail was charred, countless new monsters would immediately surge forward, stepping over the half-charred or still wriggling fragments in front.
They never tire, nor do they stop. The greedy red light in their eyes, gleaming with lust for the flesh and blood of the living, is blinding even in the dim twilight.
"Damn... what's that saying in Chinese again... outnumbered?"
Castro gave a wry smile and pulled out the last half of a cigar Che Guevara had given him from the inside pocket of his tattered military uniform, which was now as worn as a rag. The cigar was broken in half and soaked with sweat, making it impossible to light.
But he still held it in his mouth, as if that would keep him from falling.
He gripped his only bayonet tightly. The blade was broken at the tip and riddled with nicks, but it was now his only support.
He straightened up, even though his spine ached as if it were broken.
"Come on!! You sons of bitches, you bastard scum of the US!!"
With the last of his strength, Castro let out a roar like that of a wounded lion.
The thousands of monsters opposite paused for a moment, then roared in unison, surging forward like a giant wave.
It's better that he died. At least... he didn't back down.
Just as Castro was about to close his eyes and face that final moment.
The silver communicator that Fang Yu had given him, which he had almost kept as a keepsake and which had been flashing a red light for the past two days, was now being kept by him.
Suddenly, with a "beep," the green light turned on.
"Zzz...Fidel? Is he still alive?"
It was the sound of cutting. It sounded extremely tired, but with a kind of... like a drowning person suddenly taking a breath of oxygen—a hurried yet relaxed sound.
“They’re almost dead…cough cough…” Castro stared at the fangs just ten meters away. “Spit it out.”
"Go into the cave!! I don't remember we had a fortification in area A3! Go into the deepest one!"
"What did you say?"
"Hide!! Put your head in your crotch!! Now!!"
He yelled into the communicator, his voice hoarse and strained.
It was almost an instinctive reaction. Castro didn't ask why. He grabbed a young soldier beside him, who was also waiting to die with a bayonet in hand, and with a strength he hadn't even realized, pulled him forward and rolled into the small anti-artillery shelter behind the trench, which served as the last ammunition cover.
"boom!"
He casually pulled down the heavy explosion-proof steel door.
Just the instant the door closed.
The sky... seemed to have truly collapsed.
There was no warning whatsoever. It wasn't the whistling sound of an artillery shell. Instead, it was a tremendous explosion that seemed to tear the air apart instantly and then suddenly close it again.
The earth was trembling. No, not trembling. It was throbbing.
Even through the thick layers of soil and steel plates, Castro still felt as if twelve heavy trains loaded with cargo were simultaneously crashing into the ground above him at speeds of hundreds of kilometers per hour.
"Clang—bang!!"
The blast door shook violently, and sand and dirt cascaded down the frame. The immense pressure of the shockwave from outside made Castro feel a "pop" in his eardrums, and he could hear nothing but a sharp buzzing sound.
Then, a blinding light shone through the small gap in the door.
It was a pure, unadulterated white light. It was like twelve tiny suns falling onto that riverbank that stretched for several kilometers.
high temperature.
Even through the several meters of soil, Castro felt as if he had been thrown into an oven. Sweat evaporated instantly, and his skin felt a burning sting.
The vibration lasted for about three or four seconds.
But those three or four seconds felt longer than any time in his entire life.
……
I don’t know how long it took.
The vibration stopped.
Castro struggled to push open the steel door, which was slightly warped and even blistering from the heat. A wave of heat, filled with the smell of burning but surprisingly clean, hit him.
He climbed out of the cave.
Then, that tough guy, whose temper was harder than stone, knelt down on the still-steaming soil and stared blankly ahead.
No more.
Everything is gone.
The monstrous ocean that had just swarmed like a swarm of insects, the disgusting corpses, and the battered Bayamo Bridge.
Now, it is a kilometer wide, perfectly flat, vitrified plain that still emits a dark red glow.
It was like... the hand of God, holding a giant electric iron, forcefully smoothing out that wrinkled, dirty battle line.
Nothing larger than a fist could be seen. Neither the monster's hard bones nor the steel bridge supports were instantly vaporized by the extreme heat and pressure, or melted into the glassy ground beneath their feet.
Clean. Dead silence.
"finished?"
The surviving young soldier beside him lay on the ground, looking at the glowing "mirror" and muttering to himself.
"No."
Castro's pupils suddenly contracted. He lay down on the ground and pressed his ear against the rock that hadn't completely melted.
In the past, he would have only heard the sound of the wind.
But this time, against this backdrop of absolute stillness.
The sound, though faint, was as clear as an echo from a nightmare.
"Swish... Snap... Swish..."
That sound came from underground.
It sounded like countless giant beetles digging and moving deep into the soil.
Not far away, on that piece of newly solidified, glassy ground.
With a "crack," a crack resembling a spider web appeared.
A grayish-white hand, still slightly warm with steam, its skin half-blackened and half-reddened from the scalding, and even still covered with molten glass.
It suddenly pierced through the not-too-thick crystalline shell from the ground and emerged.
Its nails had fallen off, but this revealed sharper, rusty-looking finger bones.
Next came a head with no eyelids, only two deep-set eye sockets that shimmered with a murky yellow light. It opened its mouth wide and spewed out a puff of black smoke.
“Meat…meat…”
It's not just this one.
On that flat ground, more and more mounds of earth were surging, like underground tumors about to burst out of the ground.
"They...just...burrowed into the ground?"
Castro felt as if his broken sword almost fell to the ground.
Landmines, artillery fire, even divine punishment from the Dragon Kingdom... can't they kill off this monster rooted in greed?