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Flash Fiction: RAITAN IS DESTROYING THE CITY!

I wrote this piece - a thousand words, little more - under the stipulation that it had to be about "five words". These are the five I picked.

RAITAN IS DESTROYING THE CITY!

The report contained five simple words. Leave was cancelled. Evacuation orders were issued. The army, navy, and air force were mobilised; Special Defence was put on alert. It has been six hours since the alert first sounded. It is past midnight, and a heavy rain has fallen on the burning city for most of the night. The radio teams stationed on the surrounding hills can see The Nuclear Terror, feet silhouetted by the distant flames; it stands, pausing, shrouded by rain and smoke and darkness as chaos spreads through the city and beyond. The Police and Emergency Services, ordered to abandon the heart of the city to Raitan, do what they can. Choke points are cleared and vehicles are moved as swiftly as possible away from the city. No practice drills had been undertaken with the population, but for the most part they left with grim and silent determination. The flight into the country was not to be a repeat of five years ago. In their cars or buses they sneak away into the night. Not one of them vents their frustration with their horn. Not one of them looks back to the city they have surrendered to the monster they hoped would never return.

CURSE OF THE ATOMIC FIRE!

The buildings are empty, of course they are, they’re all empty – this is the suburbs, there’s nobody here anymore. Raining so hard I can hardly tell where I am. All these streets look the same. Wait – light on over there. I point it out and we pull into the driveway, rear wheels catching on a flowerbed. He stays in the car, keeps the engine running. I go – hood up, torch in hand, out. The rain hits me in the face. It’s hard to keep my bearings. I didn’t expect it would be this warm. I just moved here, you see, for the job. Been on the beat six months. Six months next week, at any rate. It’s warm – the rain is warm, the whole place smells bad, I couldn’t describe it.
The door’s not locked, but the frame’s warped. Every window is cracked. I shout, hoping for a response. Just then the thing roars, and the sound – before I know it I’m on my knees, hands over my ears. Dropped the torch. I stand up and shoulder into the door, quick as I can, and look around. Place is empty – somebody left a TV on. Flickering footage of smoke and fire from downtown. Do they have a reporter there? I shake myself away from it, turn the TV off so no other crew has to check the house, and head back out to the car. I hear a sound like helicopters and then a flash. The heat hits me and I tumble backward; bricks and the smell of burning hair, then it’s dark.

NATURE’S FURY – TWISTED BY MAN!

The fighters wheel like vultures far out from the city, lining themselves up for a run at the Atomic Horror. The pilots speak to each other; empty bravado to cheer themselves, for this is their third attack and they know it will have no effect on the monster. It’s not supposed to, but they must slow it down, they must distract it – they know it can be defeated, as it was five years ago. They level out and streak toward the city, low over the sea. Far below them in the bay are the black, whale’s-back outlines of three Navy cruisers, lights off, creeping slowly and methodically around as they dump concussion charges one after another into the deep, dark waters where Antaron sleeps.
In seconds, they see their target – how could they not? Raitan towers above the rubble of the city; a flash of blue atomic fire illuminates the grim skeletons of the city’s towers. twisted spars of charred steel jut from forests of shattered glass and empty concrete windows. Above it stands Raitan, returned to the world with almost no warning – a catastrophe like no other. The pilots pull into formation with practised ease. Rockets streak through the darkness, trails of smoke lost in the billowing clouds that rise from the ruin where the monster has made its lair.
Fire blossoms on the creature’s hide, and its terrible roar sounds. Warning lights flicker on in a dozen cockpits as the fighters shake. The pilots split, streaking through the darkness as the monster swats furiously at the air. In the night mistakes are made, and the wing is sheared from one aircraft. A flash as the ejection seat kicks into life – the jet evaporates. Raitan roars once more, and atomic fire cuts across the midnight sky.
The radio crackles into life; a message buzzes through over the static disruption caused by Raitan’s presence. The next attack run is called off; the flight is ordered out to sea to fly escort. The Omega Device is to be used. The order is noted by each pilot in their turn. One swears they will not allow the bomb to fall. It is better, he thinks, that the city be left to the monster than they use the Omega Device.

ANTARON, THE TITAN OF STONE!

I check the scope. The bay beneath us shows no sign of movement. The charges make listening for anything next to impossible. I keep an ear to the headset anyway – whump, whump, whump. Over this the tread of Raitan’s distant feet. Past the cliffs and the harbour, Raitan stands in the heart of the city. Five years ago, nothing we did could stop him. Five years later, we know we have one chance.
My mother still lives there, somewhere – if I could get to a deck, I could see…
Wait. I signal to the captain. I have something. Movement – something big, right under us.
The ship lifts into the air, buckling as the hull screams against an impossible shoulder. We tumble across the bridge. I land hard against a bulkhead. Something in my arm snaps, and the klaxons are blaring. We’re taking on water. All hands to the lifeboats. By the time I know what’s happening, the stone giant’s head and shoulders are above the water. I hear the challenge, roared across the waves to the monster in the city – hear it above the klaxons, above the moaning of the hull. I see the Titan rise from the depths.
Water sprays onto the bridge from somewhere.
I hope this works.

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Author
MartinHall
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