The Life of Koru, Chapter 50
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"ATTUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! ATTUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
The longer Mulo extended the pronunciation of this word, the more determined he sounded. Probably he would have yelled the same thing over and over throughout the entire battle if something strange didn't catch his attention.
Mulo's eyes widened in horror as the sky darkened with the ominous shadow of approaching rockets.
From the military base of the Caliphate, an Arab officer had ordered:
"Carpet bomb these apes! Make them one with the sand they step on!"
It was a symphony of doom. The high-pitched whistle of incoming missiles filled the air, a dreadful prelude to destruction. Mulo's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the full extent of the threat.
All his soldiers panicked, seeking to get away from the cascade of fire and metal. In complete disarray, they scattered in all directions, while Mulo yelled: "Soldiers, back to yer positions!"
And then the rockets started hitting the land, causing explosions of such magnitude, that they made the soldiers fall. Some of them were killed or maimed, others were yelling as they burned.
The ground shook violently, sending shockwaves through the sand and creating massive craters. The sky turned into a hellish canvas of fire and smoke as the relentless barrage continued.
Mulo stumbled, disoriented, as the battlefield descended into chaos. The relentless bombing shattered their ranks, leaving bodies in its wake. He shouted orders, trying to rally his men, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of destruction.
Suddenly, canisters of tear gas were released from above by flying planes, filling the air with acrid smoke that burned the eyes and choked the lungs. The koru warriors clawed at their faces, trying to clear their vision and breathe amidst the toxic fumes.
Then Mulo heard "Allahu!" in the distance and knew that the Caliphate army was attacking. They were coming to finish off his army, or what remained of it.
"Hold the line, soldiers!" he bellowed. "We'se fight to the last!"
His words were met with scattered, desperate shouts as the koru warriors tried to regroup. But the tear gas was relentless, and their enemies were closing in.
Mulo squinted through the smoke, his vision blurry and stinging. He could make out the figures of Caliphate soldiers advancing with grim determination. They moved like shadows, their forms wavering and shifting in the toxic fog. The sight filled Mulo with a fierce resolve. He would not let his warriors be slaughtered without a fight.
He clutched the machete in his hand and yelled: "FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR THE BLACK EMPIRE!"
And so he charged forward, cutting through the smoke towards the oncoming enemy. The first Caliphate soldier he encountered fell swiftly, Mulo's blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. His rage and grief fueled his strength, driving him to fight with a ferocity that bordered on madness. He was akin to a berserker, one of those primitive Viking warriors from the past who fought naked in a trance-like fury.
Around him, the koru warriors, inspired by their leader's bravery, rallied and fought back with renewed vigor.
"We'se put our hope in ye, Wild Pup! Go, Wild Pup! Ye're the wildest pup!" they said.
The air was filled with the clash of steel and the cries of battle as the two forces collided in a desperate struggle for survival.
Despite recently suffering a rocket attack and being at a numerical disadvantage, Mulo's army refused to let itself get overwhelmed. On the contrary, with Mulo at the forefront, they found a renewed sense of unity and determination. The tear gas stung their eyes and burned their lungs, but they pushed through the pain, driven by an unyielding resolve to protect the Black Empire.
"Retreat! Fall back to the dunes!" the Caliphate officers instructed their slaves through the talkies. "Regroup and prepare for the next attack!"
Mulo knew this was the moment to press on. He was thirsty for conquest.
"Follow me!" he told his mates. "Towards Oasis Bigguh! ATTUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! "
"Mulo, this fuckin' talkie not workin' anymore!" Sleaze said. "I'se think we'se are lost in the desert!"
"Don't matter!" Mulo said. "We'se gonna take Oasis Bigguh!"
"HOW?"
Mulo sounded too optimistic given the reality at hand -- most of their army shattered into pieces, to the point where you could only see blood-soaked sand and guts spilled out, maimed and wounded koru crawling on the ground like helpless creatures, their only wish being to die and escape the pain and the torment.
It hurt Mulo to see all this suffering, but it also made him hate the Caliphate more! He wanted to uproot that empire once and for all!
"Everyone, trust me!" he said. "I'se have a feelin' that we'se gonna win!"
And so they waded forward, Mulo and just a few surviving soldiers, their footsteps heavy with weariness and sorrow.
Now and then, a plane flied above them, delivering a deadly bomb, that the soldiers had to run from or be annihilated. The explosions were a terrible affair, sending plumes of smoke and debris high into the sky. They made the koru shit themselves again and again, until there was nothing more in their bodies to shit, their assholes puckered out in a futile reflex of shitting. It was embarrassing even for a koru and they were ashamed of their own fearfulness.
Sometimes the soldiers had to dodge a rocket coming straight at them by either jumping away or ducking to the ground. They always had to by vigilant. These close calls however started to become rarer after a while, and it was clear that the Caliphate officers were running out of rockets from their deadly arsenal.
"Alright, this didn't work! Release the hallucinogenic bombs!" a Caliphate commander said.
The hallucinogenic bombs were a really cruel and sophisticated weapon, especially because the koru were not aware what they were dealing with. The bombs were filled with a gas that made the slaves plunge into a world of confusion and paranoia, where vivid intrusions from dreams and imagination were ever possible.
Mulo found himself surrounded by dark clouds and in front of him he saw a clone, a second Mulo, who looked ready to attack him. They fought against each other, Mulo against Mulo with machetes in hand, until the clone retreated into the darkness. Mulo thought about this event. He remembered what Captain Xaxa once told him, that sometimes you are your own worst enemy.
Suddenly, the clone attacked from behind:
"Gotcha!"
Mulo dodged. He responded with his own blow. The clone dodged. It was like in a mirror -- everything Mulo did, the clone did too. It was annoying.
Seething with rage, Mulo launched towards his clone and stabbed it with the machete. The clone fell on his knees and then on the ground, bleeding.
Mulo kept watching it. There was something frightening, yet magnetic about watching a copy of himself dying.
Suddenly some of the effect of the hallucination started to wear off and Mulo couldn't believe his eyes:
"Sleaze!" he yelled.
His friend Sleaze was lying dead in a pool of blood.
"Nooo!" Mulo cried. "Sleaze! Nooo! Sleaze! SLEEEEEAZE!"