Rains of Heaven & Sprouts of Hell: by Nick Venom (ereader android .TXT) 📕

“Ahhh!” Houston shrieked as he fell into his chair, a small puddle of acid hitting him and devastating his chest and head. The acid burnt into his skin, breaking the skin and littering him with bloody wounds. 

Ryder and Emile watched as their leader was drenched in acid, screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs. They then both glanced at each other before they felt the humvee sharply turn and drive off the road, smacking into dense vegetation. The blow of the crash threw the inhabitants forward; Ryder and Emile hit the back of Pope and Houston’s chairs, bruising their bodies and faces. Pope, meanwhile, smacked into the steering wheel, applying pressure on his forehead and other face wounds. And Houston was thrown into the dashboard, his chest taking the full brunt of the blow. The blood spurting out of his chest from the acid exploded when he smacked into the dashboard, leaving a large bloodstain that covered a majority of his side of the dashboard. 

Blood flew everywhere.

TBC…

The humvee ran off the road, colliding into the dense vegetation. The humvee bounced off a stump of a traffic light post hidden by the vegetation before running into the piece of metal again, bouncing off for a second time before shortly dying. The tailing humvees rolled to a stop some distance from them, unable to assist them as the acid rain attacked them from above. They could only watch and hope the rain would end soon.

Fortunately for them, the rain ended a half-hour later, allowing Orlando, Houston’s second in command, to organize an effort to save his comrades. He positioned the remaining five around with two of them following him. The other three set up a perimeter using the remaining humvees. 

“Sir, I see movement!” One of the soldiers, named Wayne, reported as he peered into one of the blood-stained windows. “I can someone moving around!”

“We need to hurry up before the roamers arrive!” Orlando declared. “Channing, grab the crowbar from humvee 2 and pop the door.” Channing, a black-haired soldier, nodded before he went off to fetch the tool. He quickly returned, being assisted by Wayne to pop the door. 

As soon as the door was off, they backed away and Orlando moved in, peering into the blood-stained backseat. Emile, who sat closest to Orlando, moved his head and looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was crusted with dried blood. 

Emile smiled as he recognized Orlando. “T-The rain stopped, right?” He asked before turning to Ryder who also now looked in their direction with the same bloodshot eyes. “You were right, we’re going home.”

Ryder nodded, staring at them. “H-H-Houston’s dead.” He told them solemnly. “He’s not going home.”

Orlando furrowed his brows before looking in Houston’s direction. He was drenched in blood and his skull was exposed and cracked. “H-He… Pop the doors.” He instructed Wayne and Channing. They nodded before moving to pop the driver’s door. The driver, named Pope, was still alive, reacting to the violent ripping of the door. The duo-team then moved to pop the other door, however, with sad expressions. With his door popped, Orlando then instructed them to get the stretchers from the trunk of humvee 1, which was Ryder’s humvee. They began moving the wounded and one dead off the humvees and relocating them to the other humvees.

As Ryder was being relocated, Orlando approached him. “I… I want to know his last words. Something I could t-tell his family, y-you k-k-know P-Please tell me a-anything..” 

Ryder nodded. “I’ll tell y-you what happened.”

***

The humvee collided with the stump for the second time, sending the four inhabitants forward and crashing into the dashboard, steering wheel, and the backs of the front seats.

Ryder withstood the second blow, feeling the humvee slowly dying. He then quickly looked around, noticing Emile’s body slumped over. “E-Emile!” He shouted before jumping over to tend to his friend. He checked his pulse, finding it still strong. “Just unconscious,” He muttered to himself before turning towards the front seat inhabitants. He stood up, climbing over the center console, to reach Houston and Pope. He checked Pope’s pulse quickly, finding him to be unconscious, before focusing all of his attention on Houston. He checked his pulse, scared at what he discovered. Houston’s pulse was significantly weaker than the others, deadly weak.

“Sir, don’t die on me. I’m gonna get you out of here!” He declared before turning away to search for the first-aid kit stuffed under Houston’s chair but something grabbed him and prevented him from moving. He turned to face what was holding him back. Houston had grabbed his arm, turning his face to meet his. 

“R-Ryder?” Houston croaked. “I-I’m… g-going home.”

Ryder nodded, cracking a smile. “Yes, you’re going home.”

“I-I’m… not… home.”

“I’m gonna get you home, sir.”

Houston slowly shook his head, exposing his burnt scalp. The rain leaking in from the holes in the roof dripped onto him, burning through more and more of his skull and getting dangerously close to cracking it. “I-I’m… not… going… h-home.”

Ryder froze, his body trembling at the words. “S-Sir… You are g-going home. I’m going to get you home, I can promise you that.”

Houston nodded as his hand lost grip of his arm and fell on his pants. Blood seeped out of a hand-wound and stained his pants as he lost more movement in his arm. “T-Tr… Treasure h-her.”

“My girlfriend? I will treasure her. I will always t-treasure her, sir.” He declared, a tear streaming down his cheek. 

Houston cracked a smile. “I-I’m… home.” He spat out before his body went limp, his last breath coming out strained and quiet. His weak pulse became nonexistent. The blood dripping out of his body continued as the acid rain dribbled onto him, burning through his skin and helping to kill him. He was now dead. 

Ryder stared at Houston’s corpse. Tears began flowing, falling to the floor of the humvee. He couldn’t stop them. He wasn’t able to stop them. They continued to flow long after Emile awoke, sharing in his sadness. 

“We’re going home, Emile. We will.” He told Emile after fifteen minutes. 

Emile nodded. He had no words. He couldn’t come up with anything, remaining silent.

TBC…

“Thanks,” Orlando muttered, fighting a tear. “... I don’t… Thank you.” He told Ryder, who nodded, before disappearing. In Houston’s place, Orlando was now the leader of Squad Hotel-Romeo-Echo. He was needed to move the squad forward and reach Winter Hollow. He couldn’t avoid his responsibilities.

While Orlando dealt with his responsibilities, Ryder glanced over at Emile who nodded his head at him. “We’re alive.”

Ryder nodded his head. “Y-Yeah… we’re alive somehow.”

Emile cracked a small smile before extending his fist. Ryder bumped his fist, cracking a smile of his own, though it wasn’t as vibrant as it used to be. 

“What are your wounds?” A comrade of theirs asked them. Ryder and Emile stared at her for a moment before rattling a list of stuff that they felt was wrong with them, pointing out wounds and other places where something was off. Once they finished, their comrade, a female soldier name Olivia, thanked them before turning away and stopping.

“Did he die with honor?” She asked him, not looking at him.

Ryder nodded. “He did.”

Olivia nodded. “Thanks,” She muttered before leaving. Ryder and Emile watched her as she went from humvee 3, which was where they were, to the second humvee where Pope was. She got his list of wounds before grabbing the first-aid kit from the humvee and addressing his more serious wounds. She then came back and tended to Ryder and Emile’s wounds before disappearing.

Now left semi-alone, Ryder sat up while Emile laid back as much as he could within the cramped trunk of the humvee. Emile did his best to get comfy, not saying anything about Ryder’s far-off stare. Ryder wasn’t focusing on their current situation but lost in his thoughts.

We’re alive. We made it. We survived the crash and the acid rain, but… Why? Houston is dead. He didn’t get to go home. He was meant to go home. I promised him that he’ll get to go home, so why? Why isn’t he with us? Why is he being covered by a tarp? Why is he going to be buried in Winter Hollow? Why isn’t he here!

“Hey, Ryder?” Emile asked, snapping Ryder out of his thoughts. He looked over at the lounging Emile. 

“Yeah…?” He asked, irritated.

“Are you okay?”

The question caught Ryder off-guard. “W-What do you mean?”

Emile glanced at him. “I’m not stupid, Ryder. I can see that something’s off with you. I know you aren’t okay right now.”

“Uh… I… I-I don’t know honestly.” Ryder confessed. “I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

Emile nodded, slowly sitting up, careful not to tear the bandages over his wounds. “Tell me… what are you thinking about?”

“Uh… well, mostly a-about what just happened,” Ryder remarked, scratching his nape. “Uh… I… I just feel k-kinda off you know.”

Emile nodded. “Because y-you feel like it’s your fault that he died?” He bluntly asked.

Ryder opened his mouth to argue with him but quickly closed it. “... Yeah, I… I do. I was the last p-person he saw.”

Emile shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You had nothing to do with the crash or the acid rain unless you have some magical skill that lets you bring down acid rain whenever you want, which would be cool.”

He nodded, cracking a more honest smile. “Yeah… I just feel l-like I owe it to him. I promised him that he was going home, but…” His voice cracked, “he isn’t.” 

Emile patted him on his back. “Ryder. He knew he wasn’t going to make it home. Based on his last words, he seemed satisfied with dying. He didn’t seem afraid or anything. He welcomed it because he knew he was going home… to where his family is.”

Ryder nodded solemnly. Houston’s family died a decade ago after trying to migrate to Winter Hollow but were caught up to by roamers. They were all killed, leaving Houston the sole survivor. He lived on his own for ten years.

“You have a girlfriend. You have Madelyn in your life. Haven’t you thought about why he told you to treasure her? Because he wants you to care about her and spend all of your attention on her. He wants you to move on from his death.”

Ryder nodded. “T-Thanks, Emile.”

Emile smiled. “Anything for you,