Elora Ch. 04

Story Info
The men who dive into the abyss.
1.3k words
3.87
6.1k
0

Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 07/04/2014
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

The Citadel was quiet after sunset. Wind ran through the rickety metal interior, whistling through cracks. On a dark night a traveler could see the monstrosity from a hundred miles away. It towered above the fields and forests, bleak and ancient and bare, like a gravestone covered in rusty, flickering lights. Besides the stars and moon, no place offered light or man-made shelter for hundreds of miles.

He woke in the night, his mouth dry. Without opening his eyes, he quietly slipped from under the single dirty sheet and went to the kitchen on his toes. He filled a glass with water, and with his eyes barely open, found his way to the front door, unlocked the flimsy chain lock, and squeezed out trying not to let the outside light in.

The distant view from the high, exterior walkway was one of total black. In the distance he could hear dogs barking and howling and the wind carried smells of stirred up dust and the distant ocean. He stood and looked out, sipping water from the coffee stained, chipped glass.

He often sat there in the early morning and contemplated the paranoia of the place, the insanity of keeping watch over a land of nothing. The lives in everyone in the outpost revolved around the government's fear that Elora had secretly left behind an underground base that lay waiting to attack. When would the fear end and normalcy begin again? Never, he thought, time does not seem to heal this wound.

He leaned over the railing and looked at the nothingness below. Squinting at the shadows, he saw only black. There was nothing to see and 'nothing' was his doom. Nothing awaited him. No purpose called. The fields and forests and tunnels below were vacant and it had long been so, so long that no living man could remember it any differently.

To his left and right, above him and below him, no soul stirred. I should sleep, he thought. Instead, he began walking along the walkway. He knew what had woken him.

In the barren dead of night, he hated this place and dreamed of cities that restlessly stirred and buzzed, meeting at cafes, political rallies, clubs, restaurants, and training performances. The citadel rises at sunrise and save one or two bars, retires at sunset.

He walked the fifteen minutes past the armory, other living quarters, and training facilities. Then he ascended old, creaking metal staircases to reach the higher levels. Climbing rusty ladders he ascended that last few levels hand over hand, until he reached the flight decks. The wind came in hard from the East. He pulled out his cap and tucked his hair under as he pulled it down tight, then he walked to the overlook above helipad 7.

Quietly he peered over the edge, down at the crew scrambling through pre-flight checks. Around the helicopter soldiers were loading gear and bags were all over the pad with soldiers making last minute load changes, checking off lists, and then rechecking everything a second time.

His friend walked among the men, kneeling by each and saying a few words before moving on. Cal was a respected lead diver and they would jump on his heels without hesitation. None talked about it, but his leadership put them all at ease. The chopper was headed for a three-city tour, ten days of descent in each. Including ascending and transit it would be 70 days, most of it in dark tunnels, if everything went right. Their nerves were surely in need of untangling.

They'd been told of the mission two weeks ago. Everyday since had been nerve racking and miserable for each of them. The men were ready though. He'd had drinks with all of them in the bar the night prior. They were eager to get it over with. Now, as they made final checks, they joked and laughed and looked as light hearted as if they were off for a hike.

Probing the tunnels was safer than it used to be. A long while back he could remember his father coming home sullen, a mission having gone wrong and lost half of its men. Now most lost only one or two. Still too many. All in search of the ghost of an enemy that had never existed.

He watched as the men finished their checks. The helicopter blades began to turn. The men stole glances over their shoulders as they dawned their gear and lined up, suddenly quiet, suddenly aware of the peril ahead and the love to be left behind. The citadel wasn't much, but it wasn't the metal they'd miss. They leave behind friends, wives and children, brothers and sisters, parents. In the moonlight, their pale skin shined and their eyes twinkled. Surely, not all would look that way in 70 days.

The men began boarding, each less jovial than before, each with the stern face of soldier. He watched his friend take one last look around before boarding. The cargo ramp door closed. A winding squeal sounded as the rotors spun faster and the chopper lifted into the air. The nose dipped, the chopper started forward, and then took off into the darkness of night. Under his breath, he whispered them good luck.

He headed for an early breakfast, walking the fifteen minutes back to level nine residential. He passed no one. As he ambled through other residential units he heard a few babies cry then only the wind again.

As he turned the last corner he saw the lights of the kitchen flooding out from the windows into the night. The smell of apples and fresh bread filled his nostrils. His level's chef cooked terribly but baked better than most. She knew this and always baked something to accompany each mediocre meal. He slipped through the back door of the kitchen, nodded to Marsa and grabbed a stool.

"See them off?"

"Just watched."

She nodded. "He'll get them back in one piece, himself included. Always does."

"Yup."

"Good. Eat up." She pushed a fresh loaf of stregamasa bread across the table and slid him an apple and cinnamon jam overflowing from a small bowl. He pulled the utility tool off his belt then slammed it against the crust and a rewarding crack stung his ears. Steam immediately poured out from the crevasse in its thick crust. He pulled it open and let the heat and steam pour out and wash over his face.

He ripped away the soft, fluffy interior, dipped it in the jam, and stuffed his mouth. Few things made him happy these days, but quiet moments with his thoughts and fresh bread were still prized. He chewed and readied his mind for another day.

He and his team would spend most of the day practicing with their rapid descent technique. They'd had six months doing patrols with no missions out and were admittedly sloppy. He'd have them training from dawn to dusk, taking lunch in the training tunnels.

Concentrating was impossible. Cal and his team had been using the training tunnels nonstop for the week before they left and they were already, undisputed, the best deep divers. The IRH sent orders to look deeper and to look into every deep tunnel abnormality they had on file. Cal's team would be detonating every deep tunnel wall that sonar said was thin or that they even deemed looked odd. It was a mission that would almost certainly have casualties.

Fear driven thinking. One collapse could kill the whole team, and for what? Fearful politicians scouring the shadows for our enemy's ghost. They always up security measures when an attack ship leaves with an entire generation of soldiers on board. They feel exposed to an enemy we vanquished and have been attacking ever since, but this was more paranoid than usual.

He ate silently. Marsa cooked pounds of eggs, potatoes, and an Apple crumble for breakfast but he was already taking his first practice dive by the time she served her second patron.

Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
3 Comments
TimRailingTimRailingalmost 9 years agoAuthor
lol

Well, two comments that are polar opposites. I do plan to write more over the course of this summer so one of you will be getting their way. (-:

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 9 years ago
Alright...

I'm captivated...more...please...

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 9 years ago
Four pages, not four chapters

You need not bother with more

Share this Story

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Elora Ch. 03 Previous Part
Elora Series Info

Similar Stories

The Long, Quiet Vacation Pt. 01 Soldiers vacation at Tela Beach, Honduras.in Non-Erotic
Bored Stiff On Duty Young soldier gets fucked by other soldiers, on duty.in Group Sex
The Reaper Wars - The Nest Ch. 01-05 Reapers attack the Nimbus 564 colony... CH. 1 - 5...in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
More Time with Sgt. Samantha Sergeant Samantha is a great woman.in Erotic Couplings
The Deposit Another guy put it where her husband couln't reach.in Loving Wives
More Stories