Paterson, January 3rd, 2000
Early morning. Doc and Ross agree, we're not making our expected recovery. Well, Doc agrees. Ross always had his suspicions, but now he's been fully briefed. Stupid fears, as our medical second, he should have been brought up to speed much earlier.
The problem, they think, is the shrapnel, odd shaped fragments dug in deep, aren't migrating to the surface as they should. Should. SHOULD. Ah, how abnormal becomes normal. I can feel their hard knots in the muscles and under the skin sawing away as I move. Thank god for pain killers in all their glory.
Ross'll put Doc under the knife first.
----------------------------------------
"Damn, George, what are they doing?"
"Harassing, sniping, probing. Last night was their easiest shot at us. Now, now they have to think it through again."
Leo grunts, "They want us alive. Otherwise, I'd just burn us out."
We glumly contemplate that option. Leo's eye's light up. "Burn!"
He gets up, using his cane, and hobbles to the door. "I got to see Alpha."
-------------------------------------------
Late morning. Doc's shoveling it in. Mouthful after happy mouthful of high calorie, irreplaceable MREs. She's sitting beside a bedpan filled with a double fistful of metal shards.
Ross still looks dumbstruck. "The shrapnel was easy once I could reach it! Her incision kept trying to clot over and close itself. Like watching the healing process in time lapse. They were encapsulated in this watery goo, almost pus, material. I saved some for later examination." He keeps shaking his head. "Once I pulled the foreign matter I only had to suture the grossest cuts."
"Are you up for doing it again?"
"Yes, Major. I..."
"Give me another hour," Doc interrupts. "Ross, you can assist."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely!" Her leg bounces restlessly. "Turn down the chance to cut, cut, cut on my commander. Never!"
------------------------------------------------
"What is this?"
Leo stands proudly in the hall by his 'contraption'. "Is simple. This was oxygen cylinder, we take off bottom. Don't worry, was empty already. This is a full Nitrogen cylinder. Together they make air-cannon. We fill IV bags with flammables, they break when they land, spread fuel all around."
"And how do they ignite?"
"Haven't figured that. Got any ideas?"
Boys.
"Why, yes." I take up a pen. "See if Griffith has any of this in inventory." My professors would shit themselves if they saw what use I put my college chemistry classes to.
-------------------------------------------------
I'm like a mother hen, filling my chicks with wisdom, before going under the knife. Leo and George take it with good humor, but George has long past stopped taking notes.
Doc places one hand on my shoulder. "Kat, enough. They know what to do. You'll be back in a few hours." She waves at the two men. "Scat. I'll send a runner once she's out of surgery."
Doc's still moving stiffly. Is this really a good idea? Probably not, but I need to be up before the inevitable happens. They'll get it together soon and there's at least on hose-head out there. "Fine, get out of here."
George salutes, "See you after your nap."
Leo just nods, one fiend to another.
-----------------------------------------------
I wake from nightmares to gunfire and screams. I grope wildly for a weapon as strong arms force me down. Another pair of hands pin my arms. Shouted orders sound over the screams. "Kat, stand down! Kat, stop, stand down!"
Doc, Doc's voice. I try to still myself. The gunfire's far away, outside. Screams are coming from the next ward. "What... Who?"
"Probing attack. They're not pushing." Yet, I finish, yet. "Eddie woke about ten minutes ago. He's... not responsive. I got him strapped in. But I'm not going to block his airway."
Fog's clearing some. "Sedate him?"
"To save your eardrums? No. He's experienced major head trauma and been unconscious for 48 hours. Damned if I'll put him back under."
"Right, right."
Ross rubs his ribs. "One hell of a punch, Major."
"Sorry," didn't realize I hit him.
"No worries." He hands me a pair of foam shooter's ear plugs. "Put these in and rest."
"Yeah," Doc barks, "we'll wake you before you die."
"Work on your bedside manner."
"When you can get a second opinion. Not until then."
----------------------------------------------------------
Later, once I've gotten past the groggy stage, Doc hands me my own collection of junk in a pan. Add it to my collection she tells me.
People collect the damnedest things; cards, cans, rubber bands, and twine. I should start a scrap metal collection. Nah. I hand the pan full of shrapnel back to Doc. "Give this to Alpha. Tell him to recycle it back at them."
"Ooo, that's a good idea!"
------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, walking without shrieking in pain is it's own reward.
"So, Leo, you've test fired it already?"
"Water bags only, but yes."
"And?"
He grins happily. "It has range! I put 'rounds' pretty far into the river from the top floor. Tirado, did math stuff." Tirado's one of Alpha's 3rd squad men. "He things if we haul it up into one of the towers we send it several blocks."
"As far as Isham?"
"Maybe."
"Did you get the flammables?"
"Da! We got four rounds. You got a target?"
"They've got another OP on top of that apartment complex outside Isham. Lots of broken windows over there. See if you can put a few rounds in after dark."
---------------------------------------------------------
Manhattan's skyline is lit with flames.
I thought we missed completely with the first round. There was nothing for a long while. We waited on a sign.
Leo gave a happy woop before handing me his thermal sight. We'd hit around the 5th story. It was inside and burning merrily. Luck had given us a broken window at the right height. To be fair, most of the north side was broken windows.
Tirado tweaked the angle on Leo's toy. Round two went out once the fires became visible. That round struck low on the tenth floor. Flames dripped down the exterior and didn't catch. The dry interior furnishing though caught from the splash.
Maybe the roof OP finally smelled smoke or someone looking back from the front lines outside Allen noticed the lights. In the end it didn't matter much. Flames spread, the tower burned, and choking black smoke rolled on the cold north wind down into their base in Isham Park.
Someone, I forget who, asked me if I was worried that the fires would spread. So long as the north wind holds let it burn. I'm not who I was anymore. 'You've come a long way, baby.'
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
097: Beseiged - Day 1
Paterson, January 2nd, 2001
George joins the command meeting in the wards. Leo's mobile, barely. Alpha's getting around fine, lucky boy. Doc and I share the largest room available with our own comfy beds. A space heater whirls noisily on the corner.
"Damn George, how the hell did we make it to daylight? I expected everything to fall apart once night fell."
He shrugs, "Without the tracks and the gun they'll have to revise their plans. If Leo scored on Jones as well they might not have an overall commander on scene either. If they're like other strongman militia's we've seen, they don't encourage independent action."
"I'll take the time they give me. How are preparations?"
"West side access has been closed. The access doors have been booby trapped and welded shut. It will take some clearing once this is finished, but it should strongly discourage them."
"I admire your confidence," Leo grumbles.
"West side access is very limited. If they do manage to breach, we'll have plenty of time to shift our reserve as they try to advance down those halls. Alpha and his boys have all sorts of nasty surprises waiting for them." George smiles.
Alpha interrupts, "trip-wires, nail bombs, a few claymores. Murder holes down the interior corridors. Stairwells are full of furniture, so they can't get upper floor access without getting deep into the interior. We'll make them pay."
"North and east?" Yeah, we're very clever, and very outnumbered.
"Weaker," George continues, "Too much glass frontage to defend and the ER on the east side was designed for easy access. We'd already emplaced forward and fall back fighting positions when we occupied the facility. The troops know how to fight. We'll make them pay for every room and fall back point. If all goes sour, we preform a fighting retreat to the second floor, south side. The rafts and assault boat are secured and camouflaged by the shore. We have enough capacity to exfiltrate all the troops."
"And our charges?"
"Let's not let it come to that."
"How about we arm them as well," Alpha suggests, "We've seen what this bastard does to his workers. They're as good as dead if we leave them."
I shake my head. "Last resort. I hate to think what would happen to our men, falling back under fire, to a position held by untrained, unsteady civilians. We're looking at enough casualties without inflicting our own. Keep them working on support duties. Call them force multipliers."
----------------------------------------------------------
George and Alpha are back at duties. Leo stays to argue a stronger course of action.
"Major, respectfully, we need to push them while we can."
"Give me options first. I'm not writing a check."
"They have little night vision. We go raiding after dark. Kill some of these scum. Sow some confusion. Maybe find Jones again. Finish it." He mimes a pistol.
"Who's we. You, Alpha? Doc had to be carried here. I hobbled in by burning syringes of pain-killer. Ed and Root still haven't regained conscious. Tell me, who?"
"Me, yes. I take J-boy, maybe a few others. We saw more combat in one month than these fucks have seen all year. We can do this."
"No, you can't. You heard George. We're facing company frontage to the east and south. Even with 'limited' night vision they're only covering a block. You're not stealthing in and out."
He grimaces, "I can."
"When you walk without a stick. I could see the pain when you came into the room. Stuff's still working its way out. Found any in your bedding?"
He looks away. "Yes, and you? Yes, and more coming up. Our busy little friends will get it out. We just need the time. Time that Hizzoner seems to be giving us. Go get some sleep. They'll wake us if anything happens.."
---------------------------------------------------------
Early afternoon, they sent us two men in a HMMWV. White flag, slow approach, up Broadway to the ER lot and wait. I take my time walking up to the third floor. Least I can do, they asked for me by name.
The position is reinforced to chest height. All I've got to do is drop if I come under fire. Fortunately, the elevated train cuts into long line of sights from the east. Still, I feel exposed.
"I'm Major Paterson. You are you."
"Sgt. Cal Younger, assigned to Reconstruction Team 94 under the legal government of the United States. According to Presidential Directive HB-7886, you are to stand down and submit your command to the highest ranking member of the civil administration for further orders. Will you comply?"
Really? Really? Please, ma'am, put up your guns and come along quietly. Who do you think you're fooling. "And that would be you, Sergeant?"
"No, ma'am. Gerald Thornton is acting administrator for the New York Municipal District. I'm to act as escort."
"And these gentlemen surrounding our position?"
"Duly authorized militia for Manhattan."
"And Hizzoner?"
"Recognized as the legitimate governmental authority for NYC."
Recognize this you fucking slaver, rapist, bastard. "Go to hell!"
I drop. From rooms on either side of me Leo's MAG and Squad 3's SAW open up on the soft-skinned Hummer. It gets into reverse, but loses control before it leaves the lot crashing backwards into elevated supports. Sgt. Younger, somehow surviving the fire directed at his transport, pulls himself from the roof hatch and jumps down. Leo's MAG walks over him. He twitches and falls.
I hear the whoompf of leaking fuel catching. The vehicle begins to burn. There's no screams from the cab. His driver must already be dead.
The tense silence that has held over the block breaks as Hizzoner's 'duly constituted militia' fire blindly at our south side positions. I hear the louder crack of our measured replies from firing slits set inside south facing rooms.
Did they actually think that would work?
--------------------------------------------------------
Sporadic fire continued through out the afternoon. We're still in fine shape. One minor injury from a round that improbably passed through a slit and spalled fragments off the far wall. He's back at duty.
They try to keep it up after night falls. That proves to be a poor idea on their part. They're trying to wear us down, but every one of them has to take time to adjust and hunt down a target in a dark building on an overcast night while we can see the ghostly green or their exposed faces. Yeah, as expected. Hurting them, casualties and morale, much more than lack of sleep will hurt us.
That isn't even counting Leo, not resting as ordered, with his SVD and thermal sight. I hear he's getting his jollies by looking for their camouflaged OPs and letting them know.
They stop after losing more than a handful. Leo presses me to send a strike team out now that their observers have pulled back. I tell him no again. They may have pulled back into their building, but they're still there. So, no, no way.
Besides, I can feel something brewing. This isn't all of it for tonight. Not by a long shot.
-----------------------------------------------------
Near on 0300 our fans on the south side make a mass showing. Nearly a hundred small arms firing from the apartments across 218th Street into Allen Pavilion. We reply where we can, but mainly wait for the rush. Probably along the east end once we've shifted south.
The tower OP reports movement on the thin strip of land to our north. I commit our reserve. The floods we've shifted from Baker's Field get lit. It isn't even close.
Thirty-odd dements and a hose-head trying to sneak in. Sure, I see the rational. Get crazy suicide mobs into our positions from the rear and we'll be too busy to repel the frontal rush. Except the ground floor doors are welded shut and they don't have ladders. I almost feel sorry for the dements, almost. I'm really sorry that the hose-head got away into the river.
I'm not sorry at all for the men who rushed us at the sound of fire from the far side of Allen. Their assault was haphazard and soon petered out. We accounted for another 25 or so?
No casualties on my part. We can do this all day. All day.
George joins the command meeting in the wards. Leo's mobile, barely. Alpha's getting around fine, lucky boy. Doc and I share the largest room available with our own comfy beds. A space heater whirls noisily on the corner.
"Damn George, how the hell did we make it to daylight? I expected everything to fall apart once night fell."
He shrugs, "Without the tracks and the gun they'll have to revise their plans. If Leo scored on Jones as well they might not have an overall commander on scene either. If they're like other strongman militia's we've seen, they don't encourage independent action."
"I'll take the time they give me. How are preparations?"
"West side access has been closed. The access doors have been booby trapped and welded shut. It will take some clearing once this is finished, but it should strongly discourage them."
"I admire your confidence," Leo grumbles.
"West side access is very limited. If they do manage to breach, we'll have plenty of time to shift our reserve as they try to advance down those halls. Alpha and his boys have all sorts of nasty surprises waiting for them." George smiles.
Alpha interrupts, "trip-wires, nail bombs, a few claymores. Murder holes down the interior corridors. Stairwells are full of furniture, so they can't get upper floor access without getting deep into the interior. We'll make them pay."
"North and east?" Yeah, we're very clever, and very outnumbered.
"Weaker," George continues, "Too much glass frontage to defend and the ER on the east side was designed for easy access. We'd already emplaced forward and fall back fighting positions when we occupied the facility. The troops know how to fight. We'll make them pay for every room and fall back point. If all goes sour, we preform a fighting retreat to the second floor, south side. The rafts and assault boat are secured and camouflaged by the shore. We have enough capacity to exfiltrate all the troops."
"And our charges?"
"Let's not let it come to that."
"How about we arm them as well," Alpha suggests, "We've seen what this bastard does to his workers. They're as good as dead if we leave them."
I shake my head. "Last resort. I hate to think what would happen to our men, falling back under fire, to a position held by untrained, unsteady civilians. We're looking at enough casualties without inflicting our own. Keep them working on support duties. Call them force multipliers."
----------------------------------------------------------
George and Alpha are back at duties. Leo stays to argue a stronger course of action.
"Major, respectfully, we need to push them while we can."
"Give me options first. I'm not writing a check."
"They have little night vision. We go raiding after dark. Kill some of these scum. Sow some confusion. Maybe find Jones again. Finish it." He mimes a pistol.
"Who's we. You, Alpha? Doc had to be carried here. I hobbled in by burning syringes of pain-killer. Ed and Root still haven't regained conscious. Tell me, who?"
"Me, yes. I take J-boy, maybe a few others. We saw more combat in one month than these fucks have seen all year. We can do this."
"No, you can't. You heard George. We're facing company frontage to the east and south. Even with 'limited' night vision they're only covering a block. You're not stealthing in and out."
He grimaces, "I can."
"When you walk without a stick. I could see the pain when you came into the room. Stuff's still working its way out. Found any in your bedding?"
He looks away. "Yes, and you? Yes, and more coming up. Our busy little friends will get it out. We just need the time. Time that Hizzoner seems to be giving us. Go get some sleep. They'll wake us if anything happens.."
---------------------------------------------------------
Early afternoon, they sent us two men in a HMMWV. White flag, slow approach, up Broadway to the ER lot and wait. I take my time walking up to the third floor. Least I can do, they asked for me by name.
The position is reinforced to chest height. All I've got to do is drop if I come under fire. Fortunately, the elevated train cuts into long line of sights from the east. Still, I feel exposed.
"I'm Major Paterson. You are you."
"Sgt. Cal Younger, assigned to Reconstruction Team 94 under the legal government of the United States. According to Presidential Directive HB-7886, you are to stand down and submit your command to the highest ranking member of the civil administration for further orders. Will you comply?"
Really? Really? Please, ma'am, put up your guns and come along quietly. Who do you think you're fooling. "And that would be you, Sergeant?"
"No, ma'am. Gerald Thornton is acting administrator for the New York Municipal District. I'm to act as escort."
"And these gentlemen surrounding our position?"
"Duly authorized militia for Manhattan."
"And Hizzoner?"
"Recognized as the legitimate governmental authority for NYC."
Recognize this you fucking slaver, rapist, bastard. "Go to hell!"
I drop. From rooms on either side of me Leo's MAG and Squad 3's SAW open up on the soft-skinned Hummer. It gets into reverse, but loses control before it leaves the lot crashing backwards into elevated supports. Sgt. Younger, somehow surviving the fire directed at his transport, pulls himself from the roof hatch and jumps down. Leo's MAG walks over him. He twitches and falls.
I hear the whoompf of leaking fuel catching. The vehicle begins to burn. There's no screams from the cab. His driver must already be dead.
The tense silence that has held over the block breaks as Hizzoner's 'duly constituted militia' fire blindly at our south side positions. I hear the louder crack of our measured replies from firing slits set inside south facing rooms.
Did they actually think that would work?
--------------------------------------------------------
Sporadic fire continued through out the afternoon. We're still in fine shape. One minor injury from a round that improbably passed through a slit and spalled fragments off the far wall. He's back at duty.
They try to keep it up after night falls. That proves to be a poor idea on their part. They're trying to wear us down, but every one of them has to take time to adjust and hunt down a target in a dark building on an overcast night while we can see the ghostly green or their exposed faces. Yeah, as expected. Hurting them, casualties and morale, much more than lack of sleep will hurt us.
That isn't even counting Leo, not resting as ordered, with his SVD and thermal sight. I hear he's getting his jollies by looking for their camouflaged OPs and letting them know.
They stop after losing more than a handful. Leo presses me to send a strike team out now that their observers have pulled back. I tell him no again. They may have pulled back into their building, but they're still there. So, no, no way.
Besides, I can feel something brewing. This isn't all of it for tonight. Not by a long shot.
-----------------------------------------------------
Near on 0300 our fans on the south side make a mass showing. Nearly a hundred small arms firing from the apartments across 218th Street into Allen Pavilion. We reply where we can, but mainly wait for the rush. Probably along the east end once we've shifted south.
The tower OP reports movement on the thin strip of land to our north. I commit our reserve. The floods we've shifted from Baker's Field get lit. It isn't even close.
Thirty-odd dements and a hose-head trying to sneak in. Sure, I see the rational. Get crazy suicide mobs into our positions from the rear and we'll be too busy to repel the frontal rush. Except the ground floor doors are welded shut and they don't have ladders. I almost feel sorry for the dements, almost. I'm really sorry that the hose-head got away into the river.
I'm not sorry at all for the men who rushed us at the sound of fire from the far side of Allen. Their assault was haphazard and soon petered out. We accounted for another 25 or so?
No casualties on my part. We can do this all day. All day.
Monday, October 22, 2012
096: New Year's Day
Paterson, January 1st, 2001
We need Moon-Pie back, the Serious Six plowing down Broadway doesn't have the same ring as the Magnificent Seven. Hizzoner had some serious strength blocking the road. Twenty men behind impromptu barricades and two squads of mech infantry in tin box M113s. They're all dead or run.
Root's down, his body looks half-flayed, but the little buggers in his bloodstream have already stopped the leaking. Doc's running on adrenalin and morphine. Only Leo doesn't bear any marks. Tac-nets full of voices. Sounds like a platoon or so of the mayor's men are swinging down 218th Street to cut off our retreat. 1st and 3rd squads are moving down with the Hummer and trucks to chew them over.
We stash Root's unconscious body away in a maintenance closet and push on.
------------------------------------------------
Jones
He stares in disbelief at the twin columns of smoke rising on Broadway. Sgt Devlon, the track commander, ratchets the slide on his Mk-19. "Those are catastrophic kills, Major." His voice growls, "My men are dead."
Jones shakes the fugue away. He works the track's radio, contacting the blocking forces on Seaman and Park Terrace. "Move up to 218 and swing towards Broadway. We'll box them between you and the positions in Isham." He cranes around to the Sgt standing on the M577s roof. "Pound them hard."
"Our FO is good. He'll call, I'll kill."
Survivors of the fighting up Broadway trickle into the park. Their panicked flight takes them right into and through Jones' infantry reserve. Whatever they say, it catches, and the mass of men begin to stream away south. The blocking force on 50th, another 10 men, notice the retreat and, one by one, pull a fade to the west.
Jones climbs from the track, screaming and waving his pistol, but the men won't be stopped. As he points it at their fleeing backs, Sgt Devlon intervenes. "Major, deal with them later! Carl reports contact in Broadway."
Grenade explosions and small arms fire sound from the corner of Isham. Jones sprints back to the track. "I'll kill them all!"
"MILGOV's in line first." Sgt Devlon keys his mike, "Talk to me Carl."
-------------------------------------------------
Note: Mike volunteered to write this raw POV from Leonid. Thank him for me! More later this in you already read it.
Leonid
We need Moon-Pie back, the Serious Six plowing down Broadway doesn't have the same ring as the Magnificent Seven. Hizzoner had some serious strength blocking the road. Twenty men behind impromptu barricades and two squads of mech infantry in tin box M113s. They're all dead or run.
Root's down, his body looks half-flayed, but the little buggers in his bloodstream have already stopped the leaking. Doc's running on adrenalin and morphine. Only Leo doesn't bear any marks. Tac-nets full of voices. Sounds like a platoon or so of the mayor's men are swinging down 218th Street to cut off our retreat. 1st and 3rd squads are moving down with the Hummer and trucks to chew them over.
We stash Root's unconscious body away in a maintenance closet and push on.
------------------------------------------------
Jones
He stares in disbelief at the twin columns of smoke rising on Broadway. Sgt Devlon, the track commander, ratchets the slide on his Mk-19. "Those are catastrophic kills, Major." His voice growls, "My men are dead."
Jones shakes the fugue away. He works the track's radio, contacting the blocking forces on Seaman and Park Terrace. "Move up to 218 and swing towards Broadway. We'll box them between you and the positions in Isham." He cranes around to the Sgt standing on the M577s roof. "Pound them hard."
"Our FO is good. He'll call, I'll kill."
Survivors of the fighting up Broadway trickle into the park. Their panicked flight takes them right into and through Jones' infantry reserve. Whatever they say, it catches, and the mass of men begin to stream away south. The blocking force on 50th, another 10 men, notice the retreat and, one by one, pull a fade to the west.
Jones climbs from the track, screaming and waving his pistol, but the men won't be stopped. As he points it at their fleeing backs, Sgt Devlon intervenes. "Major, deal with them later! Carl reports contact in Broadway."
Grenade explosions and small arms fire sound from the corner of Isham. Jones sprints back to the track. "I'll kill them all!"
"MILGOV's in line first." Sgt Devlon keys his mike, "Talk to me Carl."
-------------------------------------------------
Note: Mike volunteered to write this raw POV from Leonid. Thank him for me! More later this in you already read it.
Leonid
I expect heavy fighting for this engagement, not much of a stealth mission this time, I grab my MAG machine gun. We advance up Broadway, I instruct on bounding overwatch, the Major and I take turns covering the team's advance with our machine guns. She is a solid commander and a quick study, but I could fill volumes with what she doesn't know about combat.
We near the park, they have made a little bunker with stacked cars. Hose it with fire keep their heads down, Alpha hits them with a couple grenades. I advance to mop up. Shit! Claymores, I back off a bit, command detonated no tripwires so we must have got them all. A single grenade impacts near the bunker. Moments later, thump thump thump in the distance, that sounds like... "GET DOWN!" they have an automatic grenade launcher. Rounds impact around the team. I yell move to cover get out of the kill zone! I head in the direction of the fire. A couple more bursts of fire as I make it to the corner. I take a quick peek and down about 100m is an APC of some sort with a pintle mounted Mark 19 automatic grenade launcher. I prep a LAW rocket. These things are light and handy but pack nowhere near the range or punch of an RPG. I check one more time then pop around the corner for a quick shot. I see instantly that I hit a track. The APC spins about like a waterbug. The driver abandons it. It is too close to the wall for anymore indirect fire. Mission kill.
I look around, Doc had moved this way when the shelling started, I motion her to me. Come on let's see if we can circle around and finish that thing off. We sprint across the street and luckily for us the gunner on the APC had either abandoned it or didn't see us. There are people in the buildings. This is much bigger than we thought. This is an all out frontal assault.
We are alongside the church, there are bad guys around the corner, we trade shots. Someone throws a grenade. It lands close enough to be deafening. I catch a couple fragments in the vest, Doc is not so lucky. She says she can get through a window in the front, I cover for her. I see a man round the corner with a pistol in hand, and before I can react he fires. FUCK I'm hit, punched through my vest. What the hell is that? I feel blood inside my vest, it feels like it broke a rib or two. Arms numb, my weapon feels like it weighs 200 kilos. I can't bring it up. He fires again the world spins around me. The sharp crack of an M-16 from above my head snaps me out of it. Doc is in the window. She hits him square but it seems to have little effect beyond taking his attention off me. Rounds whiz by me from behind and I hear the familiar staccato bark of an M-60. I use this opportunity to get my ass around the corner. The window! I heave myself through it. Shout for Doc, don't want to get myself shot by her trigger happy ass now. No answer. I move into the room where she was and she's down, bleeding bad. I struggle to remain conscious and drag her to cover. They'll be looking for us soon. I find a large closet get us inside and close the door. Pull out a first aid kit and stop her bleeding. She's lost a lot of blood.
Shouts from outside, they are looking for us. I recognize that voice, now I know why that fuck with the pistol looked familiar. Jones. He is using his mind tricks, he tells them where we are hiding. He wants us alive if possible. That's not going to happen. I have got to take the edge off this pain clear my head. Let's see what the good doctor has in her bag of tricks. The pain is so distracting that I'm having trouble reading this damn Roman alphabet. I think one of these is morphine, shit I just jab both into my leg and wait.
I feel the morphine wash over me, I can think now. I'm sorry Doc, but being his prisoner would be bad, very bad. And ten times worse for you being a woman. I have seen how women POWs are treated. Maybe I can bluff our way out but if not, this will finish us for sure. I hope you can forgive me. I get out a couple grenades, pull the pins on both and hold the spoons down, and wait.
Someone is moving outside the door. He calls me by name. Tells me to open the door and come out. I tell him I can't my hands are full, you open the door. He does, slowly. He's young, practically a kid. I tell him go on shoot me bitch and we will all die. I'm not sure if he even heard me, he was fixated on the grenades in my hands. Finally he calls out grenade and closed the door. I think they are going to wait for me to get tired and drop them. Or from the way I probably look, wait for me to bleed out.
We now have a chance to get out. I carefully put the pin back in one grenade and secure it. This is a good heavy wooden door. No sheep's wool or children's tears here. I let the spoon go, open the door a crack and toss the grenade out. It cooked long enough that it may have gone off in the air. The blast rattles the hinges on the door. I open it, two men down. Good. I throw Doc over my shoulder and head for the window. I drop her through and follow. They must have manned that grenade launcher again, a burst of grenades goes right over my head, impacting harmlessly somewhere down the block. I see Kat and Eddie down the street, they are trying to get to us. Eddie starts my way before I can wave him off and a single shot rings out and his helmet goes flying. Eddie is down. Kat directs fire where she thinks the shot came from while I move as best as I can while carrying the doctor. We make it to cover.
I tell Kat, we need to pull back, there are at least fifty more back there. And Jones is there leading.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Paterson
Ed's body jerks one more time as the thrown smoke pops. Damned sniper's making sure of his kill. I make my way to him and haul is limp form, fireman's carry, onto my back. I can feel the shrapnel shifting inside me through the morphine. I'm dead if it works it's way into an artery. Or maybe not.
The sound of heavy combat echoes from the north. My men are vets. They'll be chewing up these half-trained bully boys of Hizzoner's. We need to extract ourselves.
Leo's hauling Doc. I've got Ed. Alphabit takes point. I think he's the only one of us not running on opiates. We're a block away when we hear the trucks and another track.
I order us off the road into the shattered frontage of an office building. "Leo, is that the track from the park?"
"Nyet, LAW took the track and forward wheel. It's not moving."
"Great, they got fucking more. Alpha, shift Doc and Ed to the back of this building. Leo, up top, we're going to improvise."
I've had the joy of emplacing my share of mines. Wish I had a few of the big bastards now. We've got four of the M72 LAWs between us. We'll ambush from the roof, four painful floors up, where's my elevator.
From the roof we can hear two sources of diesel engines coughing their way north. Sounds as if they split their convoy into two lines of approach. One's way west, probably on Seaman or Indian road, the others pushing up Broadway accompanied by the squeal of tracks.
I feel like long hours pass, but it can't be more than minutes, before the first truck lurch into view. Another follows no more than 30 feet behind. Then a tank, a fucking tank, big gun, turret, and everything. "Leo, I don't want it anymore." We prep our tubes and set them beside us. "We'll fire when the tank is right below. It's your target. I'll take the lead truck. Then I'll get the second. Your call with the last LAW. Hit the tank again if it needs it or get the truck behind."
"And then?"
"Frags down the line. Then we run."
He shares a grim pained grin.
The trucks, as expected, are packed with troops. Hizzoner must not have enough functioning transport to haul all the men for this op at once. I don't have any pity left in me as I stand and fire. The LAW spears down through the cab killing the driver and shattering the fuel tanks below him. Flaming fuel splashes everywhere. The men, now torches, flail wildly. The slap of concussion and as the tank's turret lifts away tells me Leo's down his duty. The second truck has swerved and stopped as I bring the second LAW on target. It strikes the bed of the cargo area, or maybe one of the men, turning the troop carriage into a shrapnel filled hell. A handful of survivors stagger out and eat the first grenade.
Leo and I lob the remaining frags down the street where the few trucks left have pulled over and begun deploying their squads. We don't stay to look for results. Down the stairs, shoulder our wounded and out the back. It'll take them time to reorganize their survivors and even more to get the courage to advance. We take advantage of it.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Hizzoner's men are packing more than small arms. On the corner of 218 and Broadway one of our 3/4 ton trucks burns. The stench of burning flesh is strong again.
There's four men down in the triage with Sgt Ross and Jana working at a fever pitch. "Doc's out," I tell him before he can ask.
"Is she stable!"
"Yes!" He points to a corner, never taking his eyes from his work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
George is coordinating from my HQ with Aron manning the 'switchboard'. He's got our map of the local area set up and markers placed all along our perimeter.
"Damn," I take in the situation at a glance, "they've got men all along Broadway and 218. Numbers?"
"Unknown, but lots. Prisoner we took says they had 12 trucks carrying ten men each, three M113s, and a tank."
"Scratch their armor. Two of the tin-cans and the tank are confirmed kills. Leo got a mobility kill on the last one. It's not moving without a wrecker. They made two trips with the trucks."
George winces doing the number in his head. "Reinforced company."
"We whittled them down a bit." And I let him know just how many.
We near the park, they have made a little bunker with stacked cars. Hose it with fire keep their heads down, Alpha hits them with a couple grenades. I advance to mop up. Shit! Claymores, I back off a bit, command detonated no tripwires so we must have got them all. A single grenade impacts near the bunker. Moments later, thump thump thump in the distance, that sounds like... "GET DOWN!" they have an automatic grenade launcher. Rounds impact around the team. I yell move to cover get out of the kill zone! I head in the direction of the fire. A couple more bursts of fire as I make it to the corner. I take a quick peek and down about 100m is an APC of some sort with a pintle mounted Mark 19 automatic grenade launcher. I prep a LAW rocket. These things are light and handy but pack nowhere near the range or punch of an RPG. I check one more time then pop around the corner for a quick shot. I see instantly that I hit a track. The APC spins about like a waterbug. The driver abandons it. It is too close to the wall for anymore indirect fire. Mission kill.
I look around, Doc had moved this way when the shelling started, I motion her to me. Come on let's see if we can circle around and finish that thing off. We sprint across the street and luckily for us the gunner on the APC had either abandoned it or didn't see us. There are people in the buildings. This is much bigger than we thought. This is an all out frontal assault.
We are alongside the church, there are bad guys around the corner, we trade shots. Someone throws a grenade. It lands close enough to be deafening. I catch a couple fragments in the vest, Doc is not so lucky. She says she can get through a window in the front, I cover for her. I see a man round the corner with a pistol in hand, and before I can react he fires. FUCK I'm hit, punched through my vest. What the hell is that? I feel blood inside my vest, it feels like it broke a rib or two. Arms numb, my weapon feels like it weighs 200 kilos. I can't bring it up. He fires again the world spins around me. The sharp crack of an M-16 from above my head snaps me out of it. Doc is in the window. She hits him square but it seems to have little effect beyond taking his attention off me. Rounds whiz by me from behind and I hear the familiar staccato bark of an M-60. I use this opportunity to get my ass around the corner. The window! I heave myself through it. Shout for Doc, don't want to get myself shot by her trigger happy ass now. No answer. I move into the room where she was and she's down, bleeding bad. I struggle to remain conscious and drag her to cover. They'll be looking for us soon. I find a large closet get us inside and close the door. Pull out a first aid kit and stop her bleeding. She's lost a lot of blood.
Shouts from outside, they are looking for us. I recognize that voice, now I know why that fuck with the pistol looked familiar. Jones. He is using his mind tricks, he tells them where we are hiding. He wants us alive if possible. That's not going to happen. I have got to take the edge off this pain clear my head. Let's see what the good doctor has in her bag of tricks. The pain is so distracting that I'm having trouble reading this damn Roman alphabet. I think one of these is morphine, shit I just jab both into my leg and wait.
I feel the morphine wash over me, I can think now. I'm sorry Doc, but being his prisoner would be bad, very bad. And ten times worse for you being a woman. I have seen how women POWs are treated. Maybe I can bluff our way out but if not, this will finish us for sure. I hope you can forgive me. I get out a couple grenades, pull the pins on both and hold the spoons down, and wait.
Someone is moving outside the door. He calls me by name. Tells me to open the door and come out. I tell him I can't my hands are full, you open the door. He does, slowly. He's young, practically a kid. I tell him go on shoot me bitch and we will all die. I'm not sure if he even heard me, he was fixated on the grenades in my hands. Finally he calls out grenade and closed the door. I think they are going to wait for me to get tired and drop them. Or from the way I probably look, wait for me to bleed out.
We now have a chance to get out. I carefully put the pin back in one grenade and secure it. This is a good heavy wooden door. No sheep's wool or children's tears here. I let the spoon go, open the door a crack and toss the grenade out. It cooked long enough that it may have gone off in the air. The blast rattles the hinges on the door. I open it, two men down. Good. I throw Doc over my shoulder and head for the window. I drop her through and follow. They must have manned that grenade launcher again, a burst of grenades goes right over my head, impacting harmlessly somewhere down the block. I see Kat and Eddie down the street, they are trying to get to us. Eddie starts my way before I can wave him off and a single shot rings out and his helmet goes flying. Eddie is down. Kat directs fire where she thinks the shot came from while I move as best as I can while carrying the doctor. We make it to cover.
I tell Kat, we need to pull back, there are at least fifty more back there. And Jones is there leading.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Paterson
Ed's body jerks one more time as the thrown smoke pops. Damned sniper's making sure of his kill. I make my way to him and haul is limp form, fireman's carry, onto my back. I can feel the shrapnel shifting inside me through the morphine. I'm dead if it works it's way into an artery. Or maybe not.
The sound of heavy combat echoes from the north. My men are vets. They'll be chewing up these half-trained bully boys of Hizzoner's. We need to extract ourselves.
Leo's hauling Doc. I've got Ed. Alphabit takes point. I think he's the only one of us not running on opiates. We're a block away when we hear the trucks and another track.
I order us off the road into the shattered frontage of an office building. "Leo, is that the track from the park?"
"Nyet, LAW took the track and forward wheel. It's not moving."
"Great, they got fucking more. Alpha, shift Doc and Ed to the back of this building. Leo, up top, we're going to improvise."
I've had the joy of emplacing my share of mines. Wish I had a few of the big bastards now. We've got four of the M72 LAWs between us. We'll ambush from the roof, four painful floors up, where's my elevator.
From the roof we can hear two sources of diesel engines coughing their way north. Sounds as if they split their convoy into two lines of approach. One's way west, probably on Seaman or Indian road, the others pushing up Broadway accompanied by the squeal of tracks.
I feel like long hours pass, but it can't be more than minutes, before the first truck lurch into view. Another follows no more than 30 feet behind. Then a tank, a fucking tank, big gun, turret, and everything. "Leo, I don't want it anymore." We prep our tubes and set them beside us. "We'll fire when the tank is right below. It's your target. I'll take the lead truck. Then I'll get the second. Your call with the last LAW. Hit the tank again if it needs it or get the truck behind."
"And then?"
"Frags down the line. Then we run."
He shares a grim pained grin.
The trucks, as expected, are packed with troops. Hizzoner must not have enough functioning transport to haul all the men for this op at once. I don't have any pity left in me as I stand and fire. The LAW spears down through the cab killing the driver and shattering the fuel tanks below him. Flaming fuel splashes everywhere. The men, now torches, flail wildly. The slap of concussion and as the tank's turret lifts away tells me Leo's down his duty. The second truck has swerved and stopped as I bring the second LAW on target. It strikes the bed of the cargo area, or maybe one of the men, turning the troop carriage into a shrapnel filled hell. A handful of survivors stagger out and eat the first grenade.
Leo and I lob the remaining frags down the street where the few trucks left have pulled over and begun deploying their squads. We don't stay to look for results. Down the stairs, shoulder our wounded and out the back. It'll take them time to reorganize their survivors and even more to get the courage to advance. We take advantage of it.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Hizzoner's men are packing more than small arms. On the corner of 218 and Broadway one of our 3/4 ton trucks burns. The stench of burning flesh is strong again.
There's four men down in the triage with Sgt Ross and Jana working at a fever pitch. "Doc's out," I tell him before he can ask.
"Is she stable!"
"Yes!" He points to a corner, never taking his eyes from his work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
George is coordinating from my HQ with Aron manning the 'switchboard'. He's got our map of the local area set up and markers placed all along our perimeter.
"Damn," I take in the situation at a glance, "they've got men all along Broadway and 218. Numbers?"
"Unknown, but lots. Prisoner we took says they had 12 trucks carrying ten men each, three M113s, and a tank."
"Scratch their armor. Two of the tin-cans and the tank are confirmed kills. Leo got a mobility kill on the last one. It's not moving without a wrecker. They made two trips with the trucks."
George winces doing the number in his head. "Reinforced company."
"We whittled them down a bit." And I let him know just how many.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
095: The Other Side
December 30th, 2000
"I, spoke, with the 'kin. They are wroght."
"Do they blame us?"
"No, they have the scent of your prey. Those who will talk want our participation as a gesture of good-will."
"More like a distraction."
"Does it matter?"
"No, no. What of my men?"
"Hizzoner is in a agreement with the CIVGOV representatives. A MILGOV presence on the island is undesireable. Hizzoner will get the recognition he craves once they are removed."
"Naturally, it is as you command."
"Clumsy to rely on command overmuch. Better to get them to acknowledge your desires as their own. Minimize dissonance. Something you should work on."
"..."
"You have two-hundred released to your command. In support you'll receive ten of the trucks, two M113s, a M577 command post, and one of the two Stingrays. If we had artillery, it would be tasked to you as well. Is it enough?"
"And the 'kin?"
"Two are headed to the north, along with their herds. You'll have to find your own way to work with them. They are independently minded."
"More than enough."
December 31st, 2000
"I'm Major Jones. Hizzoner says you call me 'Boss'. Our target is the Allen Pavilion of Columbia Hospital. There's a platoon, twenty to thirty, of MILGOV soldiers and a handful of support, occupying the structure. As part of Hizzoner's regocnition as the leader ofMmanhattan, and eventually all of New York City, by the legitimate government of the United States these traitors will be removed."
"Our intelligence indicates they are armed with rifles, medium machineguns, and a handful of grenade launchers. We'll be moving the first wave of troops up in the trucks to here, Isham Park. You'll secure the approaches along these streets and a screen along Inhill Park. Pay particular attention to Broadway. They have a number of trucks that could lead an assault force while you're setting up."
"The remaining troops and our tank will proceed up Broadway and marshall in the Sub Yards, here. They're the hammer. You'll form the anvil. Once they're in position you move up to 128th street. Occupy the buildings across from Baker Field and provide a strong base of fire. Under your fire, the tank and mobile infantry elements will proceed to assault Allen."
"The assult force outnumbers the defenders 3:1. Once they get inside, it'll all be over. Advance to Baker Field and look to pick off any survivors escaping to the west."
"Tell your men to be on the lookout for these individuals. Major Katriona Paterson is a big, strapping bitch who favors an M60 for a sidearm. She's in charge. Capturing her would be an intelligence coup and Hizzoner is offering 6 months easy living for her alive. Her second is Captain Leonid Padgorny, a Russian defector and Special Forces operative, blonde, scarred, and incredibly deadly. He may know as much as she does, but will be harder to take alive. Four months for the man or team that brings him in. Now, I do have a personal interest in the Ivan and ten gold eagles for the man who brings me him alive. That'll buy you many more months if you want it."
"These remaining individuals; "Doc" Miller, "Alphabet" McGillifry, Lt George, and Eddie Cutter, are all part of the inner circle. They're not as skilled as the Bitch or Ivan, but they're all European vets. Take them if you can, but Hizoneer isn't offering nearly as much."
"As for the rest, fuck'em or kill'em. Questions?"
---------------------------------------------------------------
January 1st, 2000
By my god of shadows and pain, this morning is glorious!
The air has just the right sting to it. I can already scent blood biting into the wind. The rich swirl of emotions, desperation, fear, and a levening of determination, add to the pleasure as the monkey's make their way to a little war. It feeds the parts of me mere food could never hope to.
By this time tomorrow I'll have her and, maybe, the others. Kilpatrick and I will see what's inside thier muddled heads. Father will have his due. Indeed.
"I, spoke, with the 'kin. They are wroght."
"Do they blame us?"
"No, they have the scent of your prey. Those who will talk want our participation as a gesture of good-will."
"More like a distraction."
"Does it matter?"
"No, no. What of my men?"
"Hizzoner is in a agreement with the CIVGOV representatives. A MILGOV presence on the island is undesireable. Hizzoner will get the recognition he craves once they are removed."
"Naturally, it is as you command."
"Clumsy to rely on command overmuch. Better to get them to acknowledge your desires as their own. Minimize dissonance. Something you should work on."
"..."
"You have two-hundred released to your command. In support you'll receive ten of the trucks, two M113s, a M577 command post, and one of the two Stingrays. If we had artillery, it would be tasked to you as well. Is it enough?"
"And the 'kin?"
"Two are headed to the north, along with their herds. You'll have to find your own way to work with them. They are independently minded."
"More than enough."
December 31st, 2000
"I'm Major Jones. Hizzoner says you call me 'Boss'. Our target is the Allen Pavilion of Columbia Hospital. There's a platoon, twenty to thirty, of MILGOV soldiers and a handful of support, occupying the structure. As part of Hizzoner's regocnition as the leader ofMmanhattan, and eventually all of New York City, by the legitimate government of the United States these traitors will be removed."
"Our intelligence indicates they are armed with rifles, medium machineguns, and a handful of grenade launchers. We'll be moving the first wave of troops up in the trucks to here, Isham Park. You'll secure the approaches along these streets and a screen along Inhill Park. Pay particular attention to Broadway. They have a number of trucks that could lead an assault force while you're setting up."
"The remaining troops and our tank will proceed up Broadway and marshall in the Sub Yards, here. They're the hammer. You'll form the anvil. Once they're in position you move up to 128th street. Occupy the buildings across from Baker Field and provide a strong base of fire. Under your fire, the tank and mobile infantry elements will proceed to assault Allen."
"The assult force outnumbers the defenders 3:1. Once they get inside, it'll all be over. Advance to Baker Field and look to pick off any survivors escaping to the west."
"Tell your men to be on the lookout for these individuals. Major Katriona Paterson is a big, strapping bitch who favors an M60 for a sidearm. She's in charge. Capturing her would be an intelligence coup and Hizzoner is offering 6 months easy living for her alive. Her second is Captain Leonid Padgorny, a Russian defector and Special Forces operative, blonde, scarred, and incredibly deadly. He may know as much as she does, but will be harder to take alive. Four months for the man or team that brings him in. Now, I do have a personal interest in the Ivan and ten gold eagles for the man who brings me him alive. That'll buy you many more months if you want it."
"These remaining individuals; "Doc" Miller, "Alphabet" McGillifry, Lt George, and Eddie Cutter, are all part of the inner circle. They're not as skilled as the Bitch or Ivan, but they're all European vets. Take them if you can, but Hizoneer isn't offering nearly as much."
"As for the rest, fuck'em or kill'em. Questions?"
---------------------------------------------------------------
January 1st, 2000
By my god of shadows and pain, this morning is glorious!
The air has just the right sting to it. I can already scent blood biting into the wind. The rich swirl of emotions, desperation, fear, and a levening of determination, add to the pleasure as the monkey's make their way to a little war. It feeds the parts of me mere food could never hope to.
By this time tomorrow I'll have her and, maybe, the others. Kilpatrick and I will see what's inside thier muddled heads. Father will have his due. Indeed.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
094: Shorts
Note: Been on hiatus for a time. The game is still going, between illnesses and family events! I hope to get to a twice weekely posting schedule. Thanks.
December 25th, 2000
(George) What is that!
(Doc) Don't be such a baby, George. Taking your blood didn't hurt, did it? I'm just taking some skin...
(George) Yeah, ok. OUCH! What the fuck!
(Doc) ...and dermis and subcutaneous fat. Hey, you got any moles or polyps I can take? George. George. Come back here.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Kat) Eatees, Ed, where'd you pull that from?
(Ed) I'm a regular nerd. David Brin, Startide Rising, fine book.
(Kat) I vaguely remember it.
(Ed) Yeah, we need to raid a library and save some books before the climate kills them. Both reference materials and recreational. Can't let ourselves forget our dreams.
(Kat) I'll get you right on it after we conquer Manhattan.
(Ed) Damn, never thought I'd be staring in Budrys' Some Will Not Die.
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December 26th, 2000 - early
(Alpha) Why here, Leo? I can't see much.
(Leo) We see into their cantonment from this street. View is narrow, but we get to see a good chunk of that wall. From other corner we see main administrative building, log their coming and going.
(Alpha) But there's this other building in the way. Why don't we go up that one and get a good look down on the campus?
(Leo) Here we're far enough away that if we do get spotted we have time to go down and get out. Over there, if they see us they can get to the ground floor before we do. Do you want to be their guest?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 27th, 2000
Doc! Doc! ER now!
(Doc) What's ha... Oh, Shit! Get him on the table. Jana! Get the working tray. Ross cut the pants off. Whoever tied off this leg did a good job. Lets see what we got.
----
(Kat) Report.
(George) Major, Delgado was shot inside Baker Field. He was working on the floods and went up to the box to see about disassembling the controls. Hostile had a shotgun. We engaged three men as they attempted to flee. We wounded one, but they got off the field and into the city. Our response squad is on hand and we're pulling the workers back in.
(Kat) Good, hold the fort. I'll take the active squad and see if we can track them down.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Alpha) I've got movement on street level. Corner 3.
(Leo) Show me.
(Alpha) See there.
(Leo) Da. What you think?
(Alpha) Blacks, ragged, no guns visible, improvised weapons. Look like refugees.
(Leo) They're headed north-west. We'll have to step careful when we exfiltrate. Don't want to trip over them.
(Alpha) We should snatch one on the way out. Find out what's moving them.
(Leo) Nyet. No, be like stirring an anthill. Don't need to get bit. Besides, I already know.
(Alpha) And?
(Leo) They come from east, Harlem. Other gangs finally finish Disciples. These were their people. Keep the food, kick out the workers you don't need.
(Alpha) Damn, that's cold.
(Leo) Yes. Get used to it. Fuck up and it is all our futures.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Kat) What's the situation?
(Doc) Delgado is stable. Won't loose the leg. Ross and Jana are treating Smith. Minor wounds, he'll be find so long as we keep it clean.
(George) Perimeter is secure. All work parties in and accounted for.
(Kat) Good. We nailed all three. You two look over this paperwork we captured. I need to clean the stink off of me.
------
(George) They were sent to that specific location and been on station for a day. Logged our work parties and two of the sentry posts.
(Kat) You're sure it was an assigned spot.
(George) Yes.
(Kat) Damn, there's others, aren't there.
(George) That would be my conclusion. You want recon teams to go to specific sectors so you get a total picture of base activities.
(Kat) I want another observation team on third. They're to conduct a careful survey of the surrounding building this evening... Damn, Leo took the thermal with him. We'll make do.
(George) I recommend we step up patrols in the surrounding blocks. Look for signs of habitation. If we're lucky they dumped their chamberpot over the side.
(Kat) Do it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
December 29th, 2000
(Kat) Welcome back. It's good to see you both. Tell me some good news.
(Leo) Our prisoner from our first trip was not telling tales. I logged the movement of hundreds over two days. Worse, Alpha and I confirmed the presence of two armored vehicles. One positive ID of a M113. Not a worry. The other was a tank, but I couldn't ID it. Angular turret, so it is a modern design, but smaller than a Abrams.
(George) Could be a Stingray. I remember a few being shipped over in '97.
(Leo) What matter is big gun. This is not a bunker.
(Kat) Yeah, we got worries here, let me tell you about our visitors.
-----
late
(Leo) I love this sight. That building there, top floor. Rat's nest.
(Kat) Damn we went right by it tracking the first team.
(Leo) So they disciplined. Or they've staggered the arrival and departure of their teams.
(Kat) Let's clean them up.
-------
much later
(Leo, wearily) They down, here's their logs.
(Kat) Leo, you three OK? You look like hell.
(Leo) Nothing rest won't fix.
(Root) Friendly fire... Leo threw a grenade.
(Alpha) In a stairwell, against a fire door.
(Leo) They're nothing but sheet metal and fiber! It should have blown through.
(Alpha) This is America not Soviet Russia! Fire doors are made from more than sheep's wool and children's tears.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
December 30th, 2000
(Leo) We need to get out of this corner of Manhattan. Central Park is too tough a target for us to take without help. Look at our intell. They're strong.
(George) Not like we can send back to Ft. Dix for reinforcements. We're a shoe-string mission.
(Kat) I think he has another idea.
(Leo) Too right. We know too little about the parties here. But one name we've heard from the gangs and Hizzoner's men is 'Duke'. They both agree he's down here, Battery park. I propose a diplomatic mission. Enemy of my enemy.
(Kat) You're right, we don't know anything. How do we do this without getting killed.
(Leo) We take the Zodiac downriver. We can monitor for radio transmissions. If we like what we hear we contact.
(George) And if they're not using radio?
(Leo) Miles of shoreline. We hide the boat. Move in and reconnoiter. Just seeing their civilian and troops will tell much. We decide then; contact or motor back.
(Kat) Who'd you pick.
(Leo) Primary team, you, me, Alpha, Doc, and Root. George can hold down the base. Ed's busy with technical tasks. We need to keep him on it.
(Doc) Root and Alphabit aren't cleared for duty yet. Give them two days.
(Kat) Alright, two days. After the New Year.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
January 1st, 2000
(Ed) All posts report manned and ready!
(Kat) Cut the alarm bell. Tell all posts to maintain battle ready. Kaade, what's the watch report?
(Kaade) Just listen. Hear that? Diesel and tracks.
(Kat) Yeah. Leo, get the LAWs from the armory.
(Kat) Sounds like they've stopped.
(Kaade) Yes, ma'am.
(Kat) Isham Park?
(Kaade) Likely, it's the only cleared zone on that bearing.
(Kat) George, why'd we let them take our mortars again?
(George) Because the German's needed them.
(Kat) Get me some Germans. I need them back! Leo pass those out, two each.
(Leo) We hunting?
(Kat) Get them before they get here. We'll take the group. Head down Broadway, hit the corner of Isham, roll them up before they know what's happening. And Leo?
(Leo) Yes, Kat?
(Kat) How about you get me another tank?
(Leo) ***Grin***
December 25th, 2000
(George) What is that!
(Doc) Don't be such a baby, George. Taking your blood didn't hurt, did it? I'm just taking some skin...
(George) Yeah, ok. OUCH! What the fuck!
(Doc) ...and dermis and subcutaneous fat. Hey, you got any moles or polyps I can take? George. George. Come back here.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Kat) Eatees, Ed, where'd you pull that from?
(Ed) I'm a regular nerd. David Brin, Startide Rising, fine book.
(Kat) I vaguely remember it.
(Ed) Yeah, we need to raid a library and save some books before the climate kills them. Both reference materials and recreational. Can't let ourselves forget our dreams.
(Kat) I'll get you right on it after we conquer Manhattan.
(Ed) Damn, never thought I'd be staring in Budrys' Some Will Not Die.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 26th, 2000 - early
(Alpha) Why here, Leo? I can't see much.
(Leo) We see into their cantonment from this street. View is narrow, but we get to see a good chunk of that wall. From other corner we see main administrative building, log their coming and going.
(Alpha) But there's this other building in the way. Why don't we go up that one and get a good look down on the campus?
(Leo) Here we're far enough away that if we do get spotted we have time to go down and get out. Over there, if they see us they can get to the ground floor before we do. Do you want to be their guest?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 27th, 2000
Doc! Doc! ER now!
(Doc) What's ha... Oh, Shit! Get him on the table. Jana! Get the working tray. Ross cut the pants off. Whoever tied off this leg did a good job. Lets see what we got.
----
(Kat) Report.
(George) Major, Delgado was shot inside Baker Field. He was working on the floods and went up to the box to see about disassembling the controls. Hostile had a shotgun. We engaged three men as they attempted to flee. We wounded one, but they got off the field and into the city. Our response squad is on hand and we're pulling the workers back in.
(Kat) Good, hold the fort. I'll take the active squad and see if we can track them down.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Alpha) I've got movement on street level. Corner 3.
(Leo) Show me.
(Alpha) See there.
(Leo) Da. What you think?
(Alpha) Blacks, ragged, no guns visible, improvised weapons. Look like refugees.
(Leo) They're headed north-west. We'll have to step careful when we exfiltrate. Don't want to trip over them.
(Alpha) We should snatch one on the way out. Find out what's moving them.
(Leo) Nyet. No, be like stirring an anthill. Don't need to get bit. Besides, I already know.
(Alpha) And?
(Leo) They come from east, Harlem. Other gangs finally finish Disciples. These were their people. Keep the food, kick out the workers you don't need.
(Alpha) Damn, that's cold.
(Leo) Yes. Get used to it. Fuck up and it is all our futures.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Kat) What's the situation?
(Doc) Delgado is stable. Won't loose the leg. Ross and Jana are treating Smith. Minor wounds, he'll be find so long as we keep it clean.
(George) Perimeter is secure. All work parties in and accounted for.
(Kat) Good. We nailed all three. You two look over this paperwork we captured. I need to clean the stink off of me.
------
(George) They were sent to that specific location and been on station for a day. Logged our work parties and two of the sentry posts.
(Kat) You're sure it was an assigned spot.
(George) Yes.
(Kat) Damn, there's others, aren't there.
(George) That would be my conclusion. You want recon teams to go to specific sectors so you get a total picture of base activities.
(Kat) I want another observation team on third. They're to conduct a careful survey of the surrounding building this evening... Damn, Leo took the thermal with him. We'll make do.
(George) I recommend we step up patrols in the surrounding blocks. Look for signs of habitation. If we're lucky they dumped their chamberpot over the side.
(Kat) Do it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
December 29th, 2000
(Kat) Welcome back. It's good to see you both. Tell me some good news.
(Leo) Our prisoner from our first trip was not telling tales. I logged the movement of hundreds over two days. Worse, Alpha and I confirmed the presence of two armored vehicles. One positive ID of a M113. Not a worry. The other was a tank, but I couldn't ID it. Angular turret, so it is a modern design, but smaller than a Abrams.
(George) Could be a Stingray. I remember a few being shipped over in '97.
(Leo) What matter is big gun. This is not a bunker.
(Kat) Yeah, we got worries here, let me tell you about our visitors.
-----
late
(Leo) I love this sight. That building there, top floor. Rat's nest.
(Kat) Damn we went right by it tracking the first team.
(Leo) So they disciplined. Or they've staggered the arrival and departure of their teams.
(Kat) Let's clean them up.
-------
much later
(Leo, wearily) They down, here's their logs.
(Kat) Leo, you three OK? You look like hell.
(Leo) Nothing rest won't fix.
(Root) Friendly fire... Leo threw a grenade.
(Alpha) In a stairwell, against a fire door.
(Leo) They're nothing but sheet metal and fiber! It should have blown through.
(Alpha) This is America not Soviet Russia! Fire doors are made from more than sheep's wool and children's tears.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
December 30th, 2000
(Leo) We need to get out of this corner of Manhattan. Central Park is too tough a target for us to take without help. Look at our intell. They're strong.
(George) Not like we can send back to Ft. Dix for reinforcements. We're a shoe-string mission.
(Kat) I think he has another idea.
(Leo) Too right. We know too little about the parties here. But one name we've heard from the gangs and Hizzoner's men is 'Duke'. They both agree he's down here, Battery park. I propose a diplomatic mission. Enemy of my enemy.
(Kat) You're right, we don't know anything. How do we do this without getting killed.
(Leo) We take the Zodiac downriver. We can monitor for radio transmissions. If we like what we hear we contact.
(George) And if they're not using radio?
(Leo) Miles of shoreline. We hide the boat. Move in and reconnoiter. Just seeing their civilian and troops will tell much. We decide then; contact or motor back.
(Kat) Who'd you pick.
(Leo) Primary team, you, me, Alpha, Doc, and Root. George can hold down the base. Ed's busy with technical tasks. We need to keep him on it.
(Doc) Root and Alphabit aren't cleared for duty yet. Give them two days.
(Kat) Alright, two days. After the New Year.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
January 1st, 2000
(Ed) All posts report manned and ready!
(Kat) Cut the alarm bell. Tell all posts to maintain battle ready. Kaade, what's the watch report?
(Kaade) Just listen. Hear that? Diesel and tracks.
(Kat) Yeah. Leo, get the LAWs from the armory.
(Kat) Sounds like they've stopped.
(Kaade) Yes, ma'am.
(Kat) Isham Park?
(Kaade) Likely, it's the only cleared zone on that bearing.
(Kat) George, why'd we let them take our mortars again?
(George) Because the German's needed them.
(Kat) Get me some Germans. I need them back! Leo pass those out, two each.
(Leo) We hunting?
(Kat) Get them before they get here. We'll take the group. Head down Broadway, hit the corner of Isham, roll them up before they know what's happening. And Leo?
(Leo) Yes, Kat?
(Kat) How about you get me another tank?
(Leo) ***Grin***
Sunday, September 9, 2012
093: Post-Mortum, Slicing Facts
Paterson, December 25th, 2012
Late evening. Sun's long down and the eight of us sit, washed out, under fluorescent lights in a semi-private ward just off of the dissection site. We've got the bed pushed away and a folding table set up. The special six, George, and Sgt. Ross. Doc and Ross take turns spelling out the technical details. I can see Leo and Alpha have lost the thread some time ago. Leo's actively fighting off a nap. George scribbles notes, or questions, for later. Ed, who's already heard it all, doodles. I wish we had some coffee left.
Presentation over, I open the table to questions and discussion. The boys look nervously at each other. None of them want to be first.
George, I'm not surprised, runs tired hands through thinning brown hair and sighs, "Doc, Kat, Ross, that's good work. But what does it mean? Straight-up, no-bullshit, plain English."
I sit back in the chair. Take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Are you asking for me to translate the terminology or for conclusions?"
Leo interjects, "Translate."
George glances at him, "I've got my own conclusions, I want to hear yours."
"I not need conclusions. It is clear they are weapons. Tell me how to kill better. Now, they like tank on two feet. Where do I shoot them to make them stay down?"
"Let me answer Leo first," I tell George. "Leo, here doesn't appear to be a one shot kill zone. The skin is thick, tough, and has anti-ballistic properties." Leo nods in understanding. "Underneath that skin, the muscles are also dense and the ribs run all the way down the torso. They're much thicker than a human's and denser, further protecting vital organs. Those organs appear in groups of four, two on each side, one high and one low. The "brain" is center of mass and deep in the body, but there are additional nerve centers in the head." I shrug. "A vulnerable spot might, might be the middle of the back, you've a lot less meat to dig through to get to it."
"Ah, so, the answer is no."
"Pretty much do as we've been doing. It is very hard to kill but enough damage will take it down. Personally, I would recommend doing more damage even after it stops moving. If you have the time, follow Alphabit's example, take it's head off and cut through it's spine in a couple more places. It will heal damage anyone would think would have been fatal."
I spread my arms wide and shrug. "Wish I had a better answer."
"I need a bigger gun."
"Get me a tank, Leo. Any other questions about the autopsy."
Alphabit stops petting Rex, raises his hand like he's in school. I shoot him a go-ahead. "The blood."
"Right, the blood." I suppress a shudder. "I'm going to digress for a moment and start with the mouth. The structure is designed to sink the fangs in deep and hold on while the inner teeth masticate the surface tissue. As we've seen, this going to result in two deep puncture wounds and a broad, bloody central wound. There should be much bleeding. From the lack of blood at the site of killings I believe it drank it down. Even so, it's digestion system is strange. There is no stomach - there is just a long tube from the end of the trunk to down near the bottom of the body that ended in a little pouch. It could not hold the amount to fluid in a human body. Doc believes the esophageal, I mean tube's, lining is permeable to red blood cells and they transit straight into the being's bloodstream."
"Now, it gets technical. Instead of regular blood, when you look under a microscope you find these hairy black objects and, in this case, a lot of human blood cells from multiple different people surrounding it. That's why we received contradictory typing results. There's also shreds of cellular material in the bloodstream and secreted onto the skin. It subsists on the blood and sweats out the residue. It may regurgitate waste as well. How much blood it regularly consumes or how often, I don't know. But from our casualties, it takes a lot. More?"
Alphabit's returned to stroking Rex. "No, no need."
"Any others? No. Well then, I have conclusions, but I want to hear your input first. Give me your honest appraisal and recommendations. Rank, bottom to top. Eddie, you're first."
"I should have taken that promotion. Ok, cryptid or Eatee, not sure which."
"Go on."
"For cryptid, the ability to feed on humans implies it has always been here. The influence it has on most people's perceptions also tells me it evolved with us as prey. If the population is small, then the war's driven it into view. We've done a damn fine job of cutting down the food supply. Thousands of people disappeared in the US alone each year. How many fed them?"
"For Eatees, extra-terrestrials, it's layout is basic humanoid, but organs, blood, and other details are way, way out there. Less likely is how an alien could subsist on terrestrials. Maybe there isn't that much difference in life-bearing biospheres. Of maybe just Clarke's Law."
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." I provide. "What technology?"
"It remade itself for our environment and commonly available food supply. The beast is the tech. I prefer it being a cryptid myself. Less problems that way. In either case, track them down and kill them with fire. They're dangerous."
"Rutkowski?"
His eyes are hard. "You know already. They're from Hell. We need to find them and send them back." The 'you need to stop wasting time' goes unsaid.
"Ross, how about you?"
He smiles grimly and laughs, "As of now, I'm lining my helmet with tinfoil. Couldn't hurt, right? I've no opinion on who they are, how they got here, or anything like that. We need a live one so we can find a way to block the hoo-doo it do. Then we kill them where ever we find them. I want them extinct."
"Alphabit?"
He gives everyone a serious stare before starting. "Dearg-due. My Gran was full of tales. The Dearg-due was supposed to be a woman who came and took the young men. Later they were found drained of their blood. This thing can look like whatever it wants; an angel, Baron Czarny, whatever the watch let approach before they died. It's a monster, Dearg-due."
He falls silent. Rex climbs up and butts him under the chin. He goes back to stroking.
"George? You?"
"I 'spoke' with Tom earlier today. He wrote that Tim isn't nearly as verbal as he used to be and Eileen barely looks at the books we left. It could be shock, but they've been animated with him, just less verbal. They've shared some about the thing with him, they call it their 'special friend', and it was a 'figure of light' that warned them of the colored monsters that would be coming. It is the same pattern as we had in Warsaw. I'll bet a weeks pay that if we could get one of the 'dements' to talk he'd tell us the same thing."
"I've been in some serious shit before and I'm not ashamed to admit this fucking scares me. Two continents, similar creatures, similar infiltrations of survivor communities. And we know damn all about their numbers, organization, and other capabilities. We need to find the gold and GTFO ASAP. If we encounter another one of these things I'd recommend forgetting the gold."
"Is that all George?"
"I've got plenty, but I'll limit it to two more so we can get some sleep. One, Jones appears to possess similar capabilities. We run into him, or another like him, we need to grab him quick. Hell, he may have intel on these things that we can wring out of him. Two, do you have any clue as to how to spread your immunity? Because having thirty men who can see would go a long way to evening the odds."
"I'm in agreement about Jones or his brother. And to your second point, no, but would you mind donating some blood?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Or we give you transfusion," Leo barks, "see if it clots in your veins or not."
"Leo!"
"Samples. Sure. Leo, you can keep your Ivan blood away from me." George slaps the inside of his elbow, "These veins bleed red, white, and blue!"
Alpha grins, "That'd be a sight. Technicolor!"
"Enough boys, enough! Leo, since you're so eager to contribute. What's your thoughts."
"Does he have one to share?" snaps George.
"Enough."
"Da, is weapon. All know Soviet biological and psychic programs very advanced. This is the poisoned fruit. Maybe they were deployed by submarine to the coasts. Maybe they escaped from lab after war starts. Doc didn't find any balls. Maybe they cannot breed. Would be a natural precaution to build into them. We kill them as we find them and we outlive them. Meantime, we hope to find our friend Jones. I bet he end product of Soviet labs as well. Put him to the question, he'll sing. Our little KGB bird." Leo smiles and it isn't remotely pleasant.
"Doc, please?"
"We've talked about this, but I'm going to say it again. This speculation isn't getting us anywhere. We need to take the next one alive. We've heard them talk. Adequate negative reinforcement will make it talk again. If it doesn't talk, it can provide other answers. I know you think it is too dangerous, but we can isolate it in here or in another building if needed."
Sigh. "Thank you, Doctor."
"That leaves me. This is what I believe based on the evidence to date. It could not have come from earth. The internal layout is too different from any creature I can recall. It is very durable, hard to kill, and self-repairing to a fair-the-well. We don't know how it messes with human's minds or why it wants to, but that capability is not one found in any higher vertebrates. We don't know why they are here, or what they really want. Although they may work with some people for a while, Root can attest to how that would work out. They're a clear and present danger and, unfortunately, an outside context problem."
I let them digest my declaration. I get blank looks from Leo, Root, Ross, and Doc. Ed explains, "She means this is a problem we could not have foreseen and may not have the capability to deal with in a meaningful way. Think Aztecs vs Spaniards."
"Right. Now, the group of us seem to have a higher resistance to it than most other people. With the capabilities of this facility we have a chance to work on it. Doc and I have some tentative courses of action, seeing if we can culture the bits in our blood and how they interact with uninfected tissue. George, you're our donor since you do match Leo. I want us to keep this on the QT."
Affirmatives all around.
"Doc and I are going to be working on this the next few days. We don't have the best research tools. A gas spec would be great, but we can do a great deal of work with the basic chemicals left in the labs. George, Ed., I want you to work on the exterior defenses. These things are light sensitive. See if we can get the athletic fields halogen flood lamps to function and mount them over the edges of the roof so we can light up the immediate exterior. Leo, you've been pushing to recon down south and observe Hizzoner's territory. How many days and men do you want?"
"Four days, one more to swap sleep schedules."
"I'll go," volunteers Alphabit.
"Brief your subordinate and you can go."
"Thanks, I need to stretch my legs."
"Final instructions. We're going to maintain the buddy system we developed. Tell them to keep an eye out and not worry about reporting any oddities with themselves or others. We know the monsters are real." Once again they nod.
Good, George and Ed, stay here. Leo, let me know before you leave. You're dismissed."
Late evening. Sun's long down and the eight of us sit, washed out, under fluorescent lights in a semi-private ward just off of the dissection site. We've got the bed pushed away and a folding table set up. The special six, George, and Sgt. Ross. Doc and Ross take turns spelling out the technical details. I can see Leo and Alpha have lost the thread some time ago. Leo's actively fighting off a nap. George scribbles notes, or questions, for later. Ed, who's already heard it all, doodles. I wish we had some coffee left.
Presentation over, I open the table to questions and discussion. The boys look nervously at each other. None of them want to be first.
George, I'm not surprised, runs tired hands through thinning brown hair and sighs, "Doc, Kat, Ross, that's good work. But what does it mean? Straight-up, no-bullshit, plain English."
I sit back in the chair. Take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Are you asking for me to translate the terminology or for conclusions?"
Leo interjects, "Translate."
George glances at him, "I've got my own conclusions, I want to hear yours."
"I not need conclusions. It is clear they are weapons. Tell me how to kill better. Now, they like tank on two feet. Where do I shoot them to make them stay down?"
"Let me answer Leo first," I tell George. "Leo, here doesn't appear to be a one shot kill zone. The skin is thick, tough, and has anti-ballistic properties." Leo nods in understanding. "Underneath that skin, the muscles are also dense and the ribs run all the way down the torso. They're much thicker than a human's and denser, further protecting vital organs. Those organs appear in groups of four, two on each side, one high and one low. The "brain" is center of mass and deep in the body, but there are additional nerve centers in the head." I shrug. "A vulnerable spot might, might be the middle of the back, you've a lot less meat to dig through to get to it."
"Ah, so, the answer is no."
"Pretty much do as we've been doing. It is very hard to kill but enough damage will take it down. Personally, I would recommend doing more damage even after it stops moving. If you have the time, follow Alphabit's example, take it's head off and cut through it's spine in a couple more places. It will heal damage anyone would think would have been fatal."
I spread my arms wide and shrug. "Wish I had a better answer."
"I need a bigger gun."
"Get me a tank, Leo. Any other questions about the autopsy."
Alphabit stops petting Rex, raises his hand like he's in school. I shoot him a go-ahead. "The blood."
"Right, the blood." I suppress a shudder. "I'm going to digress for a moment and start with the mouth. The structure is designed to sink the fangs in deep and hold on while the inner teeth masticate the surface tissue. As we've seen, this going to result in two deep puncture wounds and a broad, bloody central wound. There should be much bleeding. From the lack of blood at the site of killings I believe it drank it down. Even so, it's digestion system is strange. There is no stomach - there is just a long tube from the end of the trunk to down near the bottom of the body that ended in a little pouch. It could not hold the amount to fluid in a human body. Doc believes the esophageal, I mean tube's, lining is permeable to red blood cells and they transit straight into the being's bloodstream."
"Now, it gets technical. Instead of regular blood, when you look under a microscope you find these hairy black objects and, in this case, a lot of human blood cells from multiple different people surrounding it. That's why we received contradictory typing results. There's also shreds of cellular material in the bloodstream and secreted onto the skin. It subsists on the blood and sweats out the residue. It may regurgitate waste as well. How much blood it regularly consumes or how often, I don't know. But from our casualties, it takes a lot. More?"
Alphabit's returned to stroking Rex. "No, no need."
"Any others? No. Well then, I have conclusions, but I want to hear your input first. Give me your honest appraisal and recommendations. Rank, bottom to top. Eddie, you're first."
"I should have taken that promotion. Ok, cryptid or Eatee, not sure which."
"Go on."
"For cryptid, the ability to feed on humans implies it has always been here. The influence it has on most people's perceptions also tells me it evolved with us as prey. If the population is small, then the war's driven it into view. We've done a damn fine job of cutting down the food supply. Thousands of people disappeared in the US alone each year. How many fed them?"
"For Eatees, extra-terrestrials, it's layout is basic humanoid, but organs, blood, and other details are way, way out there. Less likely is how an alien could subsist on terrestrials. Maybe there isn't that much difference in life-bearing biospheres. Of maybe just Clarke's Law."
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." I provide. "What technology?"
"It remade itself for our environment and commonly available food supply. The beast is the tech. I prefer it being a cryptid myself. Less problems that way. In either case, track them down and kill them with fire. They're dangerous."
"Rutkowski?"
His eyes are hard. "You know already. They're from Hell. We need to find them and send them back." The 'you need to stop wasting time' goes unsaid.
"Ross, how about you?"
He smiles grimly and laughs, "As of now, I'm lining my helmet with tinfoil. Couldn't hurt, right? I've no opinion on who they are, how they got here, or anything like that. We need a live one so we can find a way to block the hoo-doo it do. Then we kill them where ever we find them. I want them extinct."
"Alphabit?"
He gives everyone a serious stare before starting. "Dearg-due. My Gran was full of tales. The Dearg-due was supposed to be a woman who came and took the young men. Later they were found drained of their blood. This thing can look like whatever it wants; an angel, Baron Czarny, whatever the watch let approach before they died. It's a monster, Dearg-due."
He falls silent. Rex climbs up and butts him under the chin. He goes back to stroking.
"George? You?"
"I 'spoke' with Tom earlier today. He wrote that Tim isn't nearly as verbal as he used to be and Eileen barely looks at the books we left. It could be shock, but they've been animated with him, just less verbal. They've shared some about the thing with him, they call it their 'special friend', and it was a 'figure of light' that warned them of the colored monsters that would be coming. It is the same pattern as we had in Warsaw. I'll bet a weeks pay that if we could get one of the 'dements' to talk he'd tell us the same thing."
"I've been in some serious shit before and I'm not ashamed to admit this fucking scares me. Two continents, similar creatures, similar infiltrations of survivor communities. And we know damn all about their numbers, organization, and other capabilities. We need to find the gold and GTFO ASAP. If we encounter another one of these things I'd recommend forgetting the gold."
"Is that all George?"
"I've got plenty, but I'll limit it to two more so we can get some sleep. One, Jones appears to possess similar capabilities. We run into him, or another like him, we need to grab him quick. Hell, he may have intel on these things that we can wring out of him. Two, do you have any clue as to how to spread your immunity? Because having thirty men who can see would go a long way to evening the odds."
"I'm in agreement about Jones or his brother. And to your second point, no, but would you mind donating some blood?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Or we give you transfusion," Leo barks, "see if it clots in your veins or not."
"Leo!"
"Samples. Sure. Leo, you can keep your Ivan blood away from me." George slaps the inside of his elbow, "These veins bleed red, white, and blue!"
Alpha grins, "That'd be a sight. Technicolor!"
"Enough boys, enough! Leo, since you're so eager to contribute. What's your thoughts."
"Does he have one to share?" snaps George.
"Enough."
"Da, is weapon. All know Soviet biological and psychic programs very advanced. This is the poisoned fruit. Maybe they were deployed by submarine to the coasts. Maybe they escaped from lab after war starts. Doc didn't find any balls. Maybe they cannot breed. Would be a natural precaution to build into them. We kill them as we find them and we outlive them. Meantime, we hope to find our friend Jones. I bet he end product of Soviet labs as well. Put him to the question, he'll sing. Our little KGB bird." Leo smiles and it isn't remotely pleasant.
"Doc, please?"
"We've talked about this, but I'm going to say it again. This speculation isn't getting us anywhere. We need to take the next one alive. We've heard them talk. Adequate negative reinforcement will make it talk again. If it doesn't talk, it can provide other answers. I know you think it is too dangerous, but we can isolate it in here or in another building if needed."
Sigh. "Thank you, Doctor."
"That leaves me. This is what I believe based on the evidence to date. It could not have come from earth. The internal layout is too different from any creature I can recall. It is very durable, hard to kill, and self-repairing to a fair-the-well. We don't know how it messes with human's minds or why it wants to, but that capability is not one found in any higher vertebrates. We don't know why they are here, or what they really want. Although they may work with some people for a while, Root can attest to how that would work out. They're a clear and present danger and, unfortunately, an outside context problem."
I let them digest my declaration. I get blank looks from Leo, Root, Ross, and Doc. Ed explains, "She means this is a problem we could not have foreseen and may not have the capability to deal with in a meaningful way. Think Aztecs vs Spaniards."
"Right. Now, the group of us seem to have a higher resistance to it than most other people. With the capabilities of this facility we have a chance to work on it. Doc and I have some tentative courses of action, seeing if we can culture the bits in our blood and how they interact with uninfected tissue. George, you're our donor since you do match Leo. I want us to keep this on the QT."
Affirmatives all around.
"Doc and I are going to be working on this the next few days. We don't have the best research tools. A gas spec would be great, but we can do a great deal of work with the basic chemicals left in the labs. George, Ed., I want you to work on the exterior defenses. These things are light sensitive. See if we can get the athletic fields halogen flood lamps to function and mount them over the edges of the roof so we can light up the immediate exterior. Leo, you've been pushing to recon down south and observe Hizzoner's territory. How many days and men do you want?"
"Four days, one more to swap sleep schedules."
"I'll go," volunteers Alphabit.
"Brief your subordinate and you can go."
"Thanks, I need to stretch my legs."
"Final instructions. We're going to maintain the buddy system we developed. Tell them to keep an eye out and not worry about reporting any oddities with themselves or others. We know the monsters are real." Once again they nod.
Good, George and Ed, stay here. Leo, let me know before you leave. You're dismissed."
Friday, August 31, 2012
092: Bloody to the Elbow, a Post-Mortem
Items in italics are not entered into the official record. Unattributed quotes belong to Ed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Doc- December 25th, 2000. Time is 10:30. Major Alexandria Miller, presiding physician. Assisting are Major Katriona Paterson and Sergeant Bernard Ross. You getting this Ed?
Scribbling like a pre-schooler.
I mean, yes ma'am
Doc- Subject arrived naked with more than 60% off the body covered with sewer muck and multiple puncture wounds. Wounds have been cataloged, reference the Firearms Wound Chart for details. Subject has been cleaned. No distinctive marks, scarring, or tattooing is noted.
Kat- I wouldn't say no distinctive marks.
Doc- Wait for it, those are gross physical abnormalities.
Doc- Physical measurements. Height 5 foot 2 inches. Torso circumstance 30 inches. Weight 312 pounds. Rigor is markedly advanced. Time of death is established by reports as 21:44 of December 24th.
He's heavy and he's not my brother.
Doc- This subject is humanoid in appearance; two arms, two legs, one head, upright stance. Skin is a black grey in color and rough to the touch. No visible lividity. No visible hair. Arms and legs are equal in length. Reports from the combat one indicate it is capable of a quadrupedal gait. Hands and feet end in four clawed digits. The outer digits of the hand are opposable. Outer hand digits retract. Interior claws are longer and do not. See here, the interior claws are fused to the finger bones. These are reinforced. The exterior ones are not. All foot claws are fixed as well. Samples have been taken from the claws and are pending further tests. Torso contains no orifices or visible sexual organs.
Doc- Head is smaller than expected for a creature of this size. Two eyes, no visible ears, or nasal passage. Each eye measures 2 inches in diameter. Lower half of the head anchors a tenticular proboscis, length 15 inches. The proboscis terminates in two fangs, 2 and 3/4 inches long, opposing a toothed orifice, diameter 3 inches even. Tactile exam of the head detects three soft spots. One at the crown, yields to pressure. Shifting materials can be felt inside the skin. The other two spots, on the side of the head and 1.5 inches round, are composed of a softer material. Light hairy fibers, like down, are detectable in the area. Might be ear analogs.
Doc- Kat, Ross, lift it up so I can get the block under the back.
Doc- Y incision complete. Ribs extend much further down than expected almost to the pelvic structure. Missing sternum. Hand me the bone saw, please.
Doc- Ross, take this over. Damn they're strong.
Ross- Done
Doc- Kat, Ross take the ends and crack him open.
Doc- Good, body cavity is open after some work. 'Rib' thickness is as expected from a human subject. Color is a light gray. Cross section shows a very thick compact bone layer and small trabecular bone section. Opposite ratio of that found in most vertebrates. Surprise, Corretion on sternum. Subject appears to have two, left and right, some 6 inches apart. Material is cartilaginous, not bony.
Doc- Hehe, now for the fun part. Cataloging the organs!
Kat- Only you, only you.
Doc- I'm special. And he's dead. Haha.
Doc- I'm stumped. What the hell do I call this, and this, and this. Fuck it. Ed, make a note of locations and observations as I pull them. Kat, run the weights. Ross, get a slice off each one for further testing and then bag and tag.
many pulls later
Doc- Observations; subject has multiple redundant organs. Everything pulled till now comes in fours. Weights are high for the size as well. I have found lung analogs off of the esophageal tract. I have found no stomach analog. The track terminates in the lower torso and is thick with blood vessels all the way down. The major blood vessels are sheathed in muscle tissue. No apparent heart analogue visualized. Given the sheathing of the blood vessels in muscle my hypothesis is it uses a peristaltic wave to pump blood, therefore I would not expect a measurable pulse.
Can't stake him then? How about garlic?
Kat- I'll ask the next one.
Doc- Don't jinx us.
Doc- Near the mid-length of the spine, in the torso, is what appears to be the brain. Quad lobes, but only one, which is a difference. It is the terminus for several major nerve bundles and attaches to the column.
You need to shoot him in the back. Sneak up and stake him. Yarg!
Kat- Ed.
Doc- Moving to the head/neck region. The neck is short, thick, and heavily muscled. Vertical mobility is strong. The head can shift to support vision during a quadrupedal gait. Horizontal mobility is weak. Bastard can't look over his own shoulder. Let's take the cap off the skull.
Doc- More surprises. Bone on the skull is exceptionally thick. Four smaller nerve junctions are present. One each behind the eyes, one behind the proboscis anchor, and one near the base of the skull by the spinal terminus. Speculation on my part, maybe these serve an early processing function to prevent reaction lag to the main brain?
Kat- Once we get slices under the microscope we'll have a better idea.
Doc- True.
Doc- This concludes the gross physical autopsy. Ross, after lunch I want you to get some help and skin the corpse. We should be able to get 2 or 3 sets of inserts off of it. After they finish, you and Ed need to sketch out the muscle structure and chop it up.
Kat- Alphabit's begging me for the bones when you're done.
Doc- Why?
Kat- Figures he can set it up Roman-style on a pole. Hell of a banner.
Doc- Ha, and you call me mad... Mad I say!
...Never to your face.
Doc- Liar. Kat and I will be examining slides while you work on our subject. let me know if you have any questions. Get yourself something to eat.
----------------------------------------------
"Kat, this is the damnedest thing."
"What?"
"The blood samples. Ross tried typing them. He got an actual result on the first, so he ran another pair to double check because he'd expected no actual result. He got a null result and a completely different type on the third. Now look at this." Doc steps away from the microscope.
"Well I'll be damned."
"Yeah, what do you think you're seeing?"
"A whole lot of hairy black things surrounded by red blood cells. These are human you think?"
"They sure look like typical human erythrocytes. You can also see shreds of cellular material on some of the hairy balls. Might be waste product. The hairy things seem to have penetrated cell walls and to be carrying them along. We'll know more when we centrifuge a sample, but I bet the fluid medium is preventing the different types from reacting. We'll have to play with it."
"Play, nice choice of words."
"Waste not, want not." Doc grins. "Now, take a look at these samples. These were taken from scabbed areas. The erythrocytes are showing typical behavior for exposure to air, but the hairy cells, ah-ha! They've dropped the erythrocytes and linked together. The matrix appears much stronger than a fibrin-fibronectin clot and may well replace the collagen deposition in deep wound healing. We'll need a live subject to see it in action!"
"Not likely. Unless we can find a way to neutralize the 'influence' it shows we can't keep one around."
"Awwww, you're stepping on science."
"With jack boots. What else you got for me."
"There's more red blood cells in the terminal pouch in the esophageal tract and cellular remains in surface deposits. I'm speculating that it secretes waste product directly onto the skin. The esiogageal lining must be permeable to erythrocytes given they're present in the blood stream. Maybe we can play with that as well. See if it would make a good filter. God knows we're not getting from the Quarter Master."
"And will it be good to eat?"
"Your sarcasm is noted commander major. I'm trying to be practical."
"Between you and me, this thing freaks me out. Fast, smart, and more than willing to engage in human predation. It is a major threat. Don't forget the Tom's family."
"Oh!" Doc smacks her head, "I completely forgot! I got a clue as to what's going on with Eileen and lil' Timmy. After lunch I went over to examine them. They've been freaking out every time they see one of us and I figured out what us is. It's the uniform!"
"How'd you get that out of them?"
"When we subdued them, the trip home, their delousing, and medical examination they fought, but when Jana's been treating them they're fine. When I checked on them I was wearing a white coat. They were calm for the entire time. Before I left I took the coat off and they started fighting their restraints. Mottled monsters, woodland camouflage. It's all in their head. We can work on this. Can you recruit me a shrink?"
"I'll let you know if one turns up. Now, got any answers on how it does the hoo-doo?"
"No. The best I can tell you is that there are thick layers of tissue beneath the skin on the cranium, beside the spine, and across the torso. It is resembles nerve tissue and connects to the spinal column. It is all out of proportion for sensory nerves, so I suspect this is the transmission source, but it is just a supposition. I really need a..."
"LIVE subject. I know."
"Yeah, yeah..."
"I'll leave you to get back to this. I have to push papers and press palms. We'll get together with the command staff after supper. Do a complete briefing then."
"Later, Kat."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Doc- December 25th, 2000. Time is 10:30. Major Alexandria Miller, presiding physician. Assisting are Major Katriona Paterson and Sergeant Bernard Ross. You getting this Ed?
Scribbling like a pre-schooler.
I mean, yes ma'am
Doc- Subject arrived naked with more than 60% off the body covered with sewer muck and multiple puncture wounds. Wounds have been cataloged, reference the Firearms Wound Chart for details. Subject has been cleaned. No distinctive marks, scarring, or tattooing is noted.
Kat- I wouldn't say no distinctive marks.
Doc- Wait for it, those are gross physical abnormalities.
Doc- Physical measurements. Height 5 foot 2 inches. Torso circumstance 30 inches. Weight 312 pounds. Rigor is markedly advanced. Time of death is established by reports as 21:44 of December 24th.
He's heavy and he's not my brother.
Doc- This subject is humanoid in appearance; two arms, two legs, one head, upright stance. Skin is a black grey in color and rough to the touch. No visible lividity. No visible hair. Arms and legs are equal in length. Reports from the combat one indicate it is capable of a quadrupedal gait. Hands and feet end in four clawed digits. The outer digits of the hand are opposable. Outer hand digits retract. Interior claws are longer and do not. See here, the interior claws are fused to the finger bones. These are reinforced. The exterior ones are not. All foot claws are fixed as well. Samples have been taken from the claws and are pending further tests. Torso contains no orifices or visible sexual organs.
Doc- Head is smaller than expected for a creature of this size. Two eyes, no visible ears, or nasal passage. Each eye measures 2 inches in diameter. Lower half of the head anchors a tenticular proboscis, length 15 inches. The proboscis terminates in two fangs, 2 and 3/4 inches long, opposing a toothed orifice, diameter 3 inches even. Tactile exam of the head detects three soft spots. One at the crown, yields to pressure. Shifting materials can be felt inside the skin. The other two spots, on the side of the head and 1.5 inches round, are composed of a softer material. Light hairy fibers, like down, are detectable in the area. Might be ear analogs.
Doc- Kat, Ross, lift it up so I can get the block under the back.
Doc- Y incision complete. Ribs extend much further down than expected almost to the pelvic structure. Missing sternum. Hand me the bone saw, please.
Doc- Ross, take this over. Damn they're strong.
Ross- Done
Doc- Kat, Ross take the ends and crack him open.
Doc- Good, body cavity is open after some work. 'Rib' thickness is as expected from a human subject. Color is a light gray. Cross section shows a very thick compact bone layer and small trabecular bone section. Opposite ratio of that found in most vertebrates. Surprise, Corretion on sternum. Subject appears to have two, left and right, some 6 inches apart. Material is cartilaginous, not bony.
Doc- Hehe, now for the fun part. Cataloging the organs!
Kat- Only you, only you.
Doc- I'm special. And he's dead. Haha.
Doc- I'm stumped. What the hell do I call this, and this, and this. Fuck it. Ed, make a note of locations and observations as I pull them. Kat, run the weights. Ross, get a slice off each one for further testing and then bag and tag.
many pulls later
Doc- Observations; subject has multiple redundant organs. Everything pulled till now comes in fours. Weights are high for the size as well. I have found lung analogs off of the esophageal tract. I have found no stomach analog. The track terminates in the lower torso and is thick with blood vessels all the way down. The major blood vessels are sheathed in muscle tissue. No apparent heart analogue visualized. Given the sheathing of the blood vessels in muscle my hypothesis is it uses a peristaltic wave to pump blood, therefore I would not expect a measurable pulse.
Can't stake him then? How about garlic?
Kat- I'll ask the next one.
Doc- Don't jinx us.
Doc- Near the mid-length of the spine, in the torso, is what appears to be the brain. Quad lobes, but only one, which is a difference. It is the terminus for several major nerve bundles and attaches to the column.
You need to shoot him in the back. Sneak up and stake him. Yarg!
Kat- Ed.
Doc- Moving to the head/neck region. The neck is short, thick, and heavily muscled. Vertical mobility is strong. The head can shift to support vision during a quadrupedal gait. Horizontal mobility is weak. Bastard can't look over his own shoulder. Let's take the cap off the skull.
Doc- More surprises. Bone on the skull is exceptionally thick. Four smaller nerve junctions are present. One each behind the eyes, one behind the proboscis anchor, and one near the base of the skull by the spinal terminus. Speculation on my part, maybe these serve an early processing function to prevent reaction lag to the main brain?
Kat- Once we get slices under the microscope we'll have a better idea.
Doc- True.
Doc- This concludes the gross physical autopsy. Ross, after lunch I want you to get some help and skin the corpse. We should be able to get 2 or 3 sets of inserts off of it. After they finish, you and Ed need to sketch out the muscle structure and chop it up.
Kat- Alphabit's begging me for the bones when you're done.
Doc- Why?
Kat- Figures he can set it up Roman-style on a pole. Hell of a banner.
Doc- Ha, and you call me mad... Mad I say!
...Never to your face.
Doc- Liar. Kat and I will be examining slides while you work on our subject. let me know if you have any questions. Get yourself something to eat.
----------------------------------------------
"Kat, this is the damnedest thing."
"What?"
"The blood samples. Ross tried typing them. He got an actual result on the first, so he ran another pair to double check because he'd expected no actual result. He got a null result and a completely different type on the third. Now look at this." Doc steps away from the microscope.
"Well I'll be damned."
"Yeah, what do you think you're seeing?"
"A whole lot of hairy black things surrounded by red blood cells. These are human you think?"
"They sure look like typical human erythrocytes. You can also see shreds of cellular material on some of the hairy balls. Might be waste product. The hairy things seem to have penetrated cell walls and to be carrying them along. We'll know more when we centrifuge a sample, but I bet the fluid medium is preventing the different types from reacting. We'll have to play with it."
"Play, nice choice of words."
"Waste not, want not." Doc grins. "Now, take a look at these samples. These were taken from scabbed areas. The erythrocytes are showing typical behavior for exposure to air, but the hairy cells, ah-ha! They've dropped the erythrocytes and linked together. The matrix appears much stronger than a fibrin-fibronectin clot and may well replace the collagen deposition in deep wound healing. We'll need a live subject to see it in action!"
"Not likely. Unless we can find a way to neutralize the 'influence' it shows we can't keep one around."
"Awwww, you're stepping on science."
"With jack boots. What else you got for me."
"There's more red blood cells in the terminal pouch in the esophageal tract and cellular remains in surface deposits. I'm speculating that it secretes waste product directly onto the skin. The esiogageal lining must be permeable to erythrocytes given they're present in the blood stream. Maybe we can play with that as well. See if it would make a good filter. God knows we're not getting from the Quarter Master."
"And will it be good to eat?"
"Your sarcasm is noted commander major. I'm trying to be practical."
"Between you and me, this thing freaks me out. Fast, smart, and more than willing to engage in human predation. It is a major threat. Don't forget the Tom's family."
"Oh!" Doc smacks her head, "I completely forgot! I got a clue as to what's going on with Eileen and lil' Timmy. After lunch I went over to examine them. They've been freaking out every time they see one of us and I figured out what us is. It's the uniform!"
"How'd you get that out of them?"
"When we subdued them, the trip home, their delousing, and medical examination they fought, but when Jana's been treating them they're fine. When I checked on them I was wearing a white coat. They were calm for the entire time. Before I left I took the coat off and they started fighting their restraints. Mottled monsters, woodland camouflage. It's all in their head. We can work on this. Can you recruit me a shrink?"
"I'll let you know if one turns up. Now, got any answers on how it does the hoo-doo?"
"No. The best I can tell you is that there are thick layers of tissue beneath the skin on the cranium, beside the spine, and across the torso. It is resembles nerve tissue and connects to the spinal column. It is all out of proportion for sensory nerves, so I suspect this is the transmission source, but it is just a supposition. I really need a..."
"LIVE subject. I know."
"Yeah, yeah..."
"I'll leave you to get back to this. I have to push papers and press palms. We'll get together with the command staff after supper. Do a complete briefing then."
"Later, Kat."
Saturday, August 18, 2012
091: Christmas Morn
Paterson, December 25th, 2000
Rutkowski radioed a request for pick-up as we sat in the marina. Eileen and little Tim (God bless us every one!) are bound on the floor. They screech and struggle every time they look at us. That thing had them too long. After forcing sedatives down them, Doc's keeping busy tending to our cuts and bruises. I've got a lovely set blossoming across my gut. It hit hard. Both Leo and I sport a number of cuts from flying cement chips as well. I had the additional joy of digging an expended 7.62 bullet from my vest. Ricochets.
Once our truck and Hummer arrive we retrieve Tom-2 from his nest up on the toll plaza. He tucks in with his wife and son. They've settled, but I can see the clouded fear in their eyes as they watch us. Too long.
At Columbia Doc hands off the family to Ross and Jana. The corpse is put in isolation in a locked room. Ed and 'bit can take turns standing guard. I'm sure it is dead, but so was the Baron. I tell George we'll debrief in the morning. We take the time to clean ourselves up before getting a well earned rest.
George wakes us for breakfast. There's a excitement at the meal. Words gotten around to the men that the killer's been taken care of and the kids. Oh, the kids. George tells me that Dewayne and Sgt Koons took turns reading Christmas stories to them last night. The older ones remember Christmas gifts. Pity we couldn't scare up a Santa costume.
Just about everyone not on watch steps into the entry hall. Leo's Christmas tree has a small pile of shapes below it, two for each of the children. Wrapping paper wasn't that hard to find. One of the last things you'd evacuate with. Dewayne and J-boy do the honors calling names one at a time and handing out gifts. Bears, dolls, trucks, and whatever else the parents felt should be repurposed from pediatrics. The older ones get a gift first and how how it's done. The littlest need some help.
I'm not the only one who tears up while beaming. Happiness is bittersweet. This is the way it was and should still be. I'm going to do my best to make it so.
After the last present is unwrapped I call the gathering around. I tell them today is a day of rest and reflection. All duties, except watch and KP, are suspended. Enjoy it, we'll dig back in tomorrow.
Except for us, we've got work to do still.
--------------------------------------------
Each of the squads gets called in. Doc shows off the corpse of the thing; Zver, demon, alien, or monster. I don't care what you call it. It dies just like anything else to bullet or club. I do warn them, based on our limited understanding of how it works, to always travel in groups and watch their behavior. It is blindingly fast ambush hunter and seems to have a hypnotic quality. Report any unusual feelings of fatigue or depression. Ha, right! Who isn't tired or depressed.
After the men we do the same to the adult civilians. They get an edited version. This thing killed our men. We don't know what it is, but we got it. Report any unusual sightings or occurrences to the watch. Don't panic the children. While we don't know what it is or where it came from, but it was alone. Now it is D E A D, dead.
Surprisingly, they don't take it very hard. A few give their own tales of half-glimpsed shadows and strange killings since the exchanges. None of them have anything but ghost stories from before than. Curious, maybe Leo is right about his escaped biological terror weapon?
After the show-and-tell. Doc and I, with Ross and Jana to assist, get down to the brute work of taking it apart.
Rutkowski radioed a request for pick-up as we sat in the marina. Eileen and little Tim (God bless us every one!) are bound on the floor. They screech and struggle every time they look at us. That thing had them too long. After forcing sedatives down them, Doc's keeping busy tending to our cuts and bruises. I've got a lovely set blossoming across my gut. It hit hard. Both Leo and I sport a number of cuts from flying cement chips as well. I had the additional joy of digging an expended 7.62 bullet from my vest. Ricochets.
Once our truck and Hummer arrive we retrieve Tom-2 from his nest up on the toll plaza. He tucks in with his wife and son. They've settled, but I can see the clouded fear in their eyes as they watch us. Too long.
At Columbia Doc hands off the family to Ross and Jana. The corpse is put in isolation in a locked room. Ed and 'bit can take turns standing guard. I'm sure it is dead, but so was the Baron. I tell George we'll debrief in the morning. We take the time to clean ourselves up before getting a well earned rest.
George wakes us for breakfast. There's a excitement at the meal. Words gotten around to the men that the killer's been taken care of and the kids. Oh, the kids. George tells me that Dewayne and Sgt Koons took turns reading Christmas stories to them last night. The older ones remember Christmas gifts. Pity we couldn't scare up a Santa costume.
Just about everyone not on watch steps into the entry hall. Leo's Christmas tree has a small pile of shapes below it, two for each of the children. Wrapping paper wasn't that hard to find. One of the last things you'd evacuate with. Dewayne and J-boy do the honors calling names one at a time and handing out gifts. Bears, dolls, trucks, and whatever else the parents felt should be repurposed from pediatrics. The older ones get a gift first and how how it's done. The littlest need some help.
I'm not the only one who tears up while beaming. Happiness is bittersweet. This is the way it was and should still be. I'm going to do my best to make it so.
After the last present is unwrapped I call the gathering around. I tell them today is a day of rest and reflection. All duties, except watch and KP, are suspended. Enjoy it, we'll dig back in tomorrow.
Except for us, we've got work to do still.
--------------------------------------------
Each of the squads gets called in. Doc shows off the corpse of the thing; Zver, demon, alien, or monster. I don't care what you call it. It dies just like anything else to bullet or club. I do warn them, based on our limited understanding of how it works, to always travel in groups and watch their behavior. It is blindingly fast ambush hunter and seems to have a hypnotic quality. Report any unusual feelings of fatigue or depression. Ha, right! Who isn't tired or depressed.
After the men we do the same to the adult civilians. They get an edited version. This thing killed our men. We don't know what it is, but we got it. Report any unusual sightings or occurrences to the watch. Don't panic the children. While we don't know what it is or where it came from, but it was alone. Now it is D E A D, dead.
Surprisingly, they don't take it very hard. A few give their own tales of half-glimpsed shadows and strange killings since the exchanges. None of them have anything but ghost stories from before than. Curious, maybe Leo is right about his escaped biological terror weapon?
After the show-and-tell. Doc and I, with Ross and Jana to assist, get down to the brute work of taking it apart.
Friday, August 17, 2012
090: Hunter's Hunted
Night
One leaves the shelter by the water. It will see what the seeder has seen tonight. It is pleased each night it is still there and alive. The unshriven have curious attachments.
The breeder and cub are left behind. Shriving is long work, but the cub responds well. The breeder less so, but they now see One as the friend and the mottled ones as foes. Betterment will take many, many nights.
One takes the route between water and woods swiftly. As it nears the place of two waters it slows and creeps. Senses reach out. There is the numb sleeping of the seeder, asleep. Careful motion through the woods senses out in a net. And there is something else that should not be there.
Five more quicksilver minds, watching, waiting. Dim? One stops.
Yes, it is hard to localize, but there they are. Beyond the stone road and shelters in the wood edge. They take a good place to watch One's tool. Oh, delicious anticipation!
One withdraws. Back track to where the land folds. No watchers here. Cross the stone road and take a long circle behind. Slow creep in crisp air.
The prey seeks to hunt. They lie in ambush under slippery hides and snow with their weapons, one to the south of the seeder's shelter. The others lie in an arc to the north. The southern hunter is isolated. He will be first. One reaches out.
Strange. The quicksilver thoughts lie just beyond One's reach. It is as if they lay behind the metal grids the builders are so fond of. The claws of One's thought can reach and just touch, but cannot grasp. It can dip, but not shape. This is wrong.
Whisper on the radio earbud. "Leo to team, I've got a headache."
One drops to a squat. Rests back against a tree. A different approach is warrented. Quicksilver is quick to twist. There are other ways. This prey is no different. Base impulses; eat, sleep, fuck, swirl around and above quicksilver thoughts. Rising above this net. They are primal, but diffuse; weep, fight, flight. Like grasping mud, they squish away. So much easier with the shriven, quicksilver beaten down, no doubts about the properness of them. They just respond.
"Feeling tired. Trying to shake it off."
One feels pushback. Like night fogs the base looks solid, but slides away. This prey cannot be reached. There are others.
"It passed. Stay alert."
"Check-in."
"Leo, here."
"Doc. Here."
"Root, check."
Four in an arc. Two close together; fundamentally different. The first is dim, but quicksilver swims beneath. The other, small and tightly drawn, One sees gleams of quicksliver deep down. This is a stalker, hunter, killer, much like One. There isn't enough for it to be One. It is a symbiont to the prey. How do they tame a killer? Time for thoughts later.
Lightly One casts a net over the large prey. Concentrating on tightness One feels the mud gathering together.
"Kat." Yawn. "Feeling it."
The small hunter stirs beside the large prey. One feels it test the net. It moves beneath the hides. The prey turns with it. Together they look with their night weak eyes at One.
"Rex is reacting. I can't see it. Must be back in the woods."
Leo, "We're both made. Let's go out and get it."
"I agree. Form on me."
The prey throw back their hides. Stand with their loud, far reaching claws held ready. The little hunter squalls in the night, stalking forward. One explodes into motion.
Rex leads us right to where it was. Tracks, widely separated, show it moved off fast. Broken branches show it wasn't that tall, just heavy. They're plain and easy to follow.
The burst takes One far from the hunting prey, but it cannot last. One is made for stalk, sprint, and ambush, not for long chases through cold winter air. Waste stench strong around it One slows to a walk. Back One goes, back to the shelter by the water and weaker minds. The hunting prey will follow. They can kill their own while One retreats under. If they follow One will lose them in the damp mazes.
The thing made a quarter mile before slowing. The steps come close together as that point and stagger a bit. It is still moving away in a straight line. Dead reckoning leaves us thinking it might be headed towards the Dyckman Street Marina. Irony that our first landing in Manhattan will be it's last.
One clambers over the fence makes straight away for the main building. Breeder and cub, numb and cold, wait for it. Silent screams force orders into their minds. They arm themselves. One watches and waits.
There, dark shapes stealth against the snow. They are far outside prey-eyes, but show well to One. They circle the shelter. One sends breeder and cub to ambush. Down it will go. Let the prey kill one another.
In the basement One moves to the inspection hatch set in the floor. It pulls the grate aside and slips in. There One pauses, net thrown wide. It anticipates the burst of pain and suffering to come. It will do much to assuage the chagrin it feels from fleeing from prey.
The cub falls upon them first. The pain of impact and then being hurdled away. Cub comes up with a knife in hand. Fear and rage send it charging at the monsters that would threaten breeder. Sudden eruption of blinding pain in the gut. Cub falls away.
Breeder screeches in rage. Club swinging at the leader who hurt her cub. The prey blocks her strike. Shouts incomprehensibly at her.
"Eileen, stop, Tom sent us!"
Breeder strikes again. A mighty two handed overhead swing that ends at the top of the doorway. Pain runs down her arms. Numb hands drop her club. There is impact as breeder is tackled. She fights on.
"Leo, help me!"
"Pin her, I've got the kid!"
Outside the basement window the small hunter yowls. One of the prey, led by it, send far claws barking through the pane. Stung, but not struck, One drops into the access way.
"Doc here. It went underground!"
The stone ways are narrow and cramped this near the water. They lead only one way. Hands and feet scrabble against the either side of the access as One bursts the second time this night.
We're hunched double in the sewer line.
"Fuck, look at the sides."
Clear marks from scrabbling clawed hands and feet mark the sides a quarter to halfway up the tunnel.
"It's moving now, it'll stop soon. Watch for an ambush."
Burst over, One has raced past two tunnel enlargements. Here, the vault arches high above it. There is enough of a lip for it to hide. Far back One hears the angry prey. No more strength to run. One climbs above the entrance passage and waits. Strength enough to fight and if not win then bleed the foe.
Leo signals halt. Ahead, no more than five feet, the tunnel opens up. He signs, "Ambush ahead." It is a good spot. Beside him Rex thrumms a silent song of rage. Leo has one restraining hand on him. Before Rex can move on Leo grasps him with both hands and lofts him through the widening arch to land, angry and soaked, in the chilly water.
Small killer flies under One. A trembling claw almost lashes out. No, freeze, they suspect.
Leo grins in the dark. The others know enough to keep silent. He knows it is there. It has to be. He unclips his flash. Click it and toss.
Harsh light strobes over One. The pain from assaulted eyes is kept bottled in. Instinct sends it scrambling from the ambush site to a dark corner. Hide.
"Flash" Leo whispers. Patterson slaps one into his hand. Back against the wall he pans the bright light around the opposite edge towards the faint sounds he's heard. Rex squalls as he crawls from the water. "I see you."
Huddled in the corner, eyes blinded, One turns other senses outward. Pinned they come for it. Death comes. The light bearer makes room for another to pass. The far claws swing towards him.
"You're one ugly fuck."
One explodes for the last time springing inside the radius of the claw. Deafening barks sound beside it as One drives into the prey, ripping and tearing into the soft organs. The claws deliver punishing impacts, but don't penetrate the mottled skins. Prey cheats.
Prey reverses the far claw and strikes. One falls under the blows. Other prey's far claws bark in anger. Pain. Pain. Plead.
It huddles against the inspection-way. Dark blood drips. It fills the M60 site. Through my head flashes a parade of pleading faces. "No, please, no!" I glimpse one of my men.
"Yes."
One's final screams are overridden by the far claws triumphant growl. The deafening chatter echoes down the sewers. Another scream, unheard by the prey, reverberates much further.
Kilpatrick, woken from a sound sleep, meets Jones in the corridor.
"You heard?" Jones strikes first.
"And saw. Your Major is a busy bint."
"So?"
"You'll have the men you need."
"Thank you, sir."
"Shut-up and fix this mess. The bloodkin will not be pleased."
Elsewhere other One's turn to the north.
One leaves the shelter by the water. It will see what the seeder has seen tonight. It is pleased each night it is still there and alive. The unshriven have curious attachments.
The breeder and cub are left behind. Shriving is long work, but the cub responds well. The breeder less so, but they now see One as the friend and the mottled ones as foes. Betterment will take many, many nights.
One takes the route between water and woods swiftly. As it nears the place of two waters it slows and creeps. Senses reach out. There is the numb sleeping of the seeder, asleep. Careful motion through the woods senses out in a net. And there is something else that should not be there.
Five more quicksilver minds, watching, waiting. Dim? One stops.
Yes, it is hard to localize, but there they are. Beyond the stone road and shelters in the wood edge. They take a good place to watch One's tool. Oh, delicious anticipation!
One withdraws. Back track to where the land folds. No watchers here. Cross the stone road and take a long circle behind. Slow creep in crisp air.
The prey seeks to hunt. They lie in ambush under slippery hides and snow with their weapons, one to the south of the seeder's shelter. The others lie in an arc to the north. The southern hunter is isolated. He will be first. One reaches out.
Strange. The quicksilver thoughts lie just beyond One's reach. It is as if they lay behind the metal grids the builders are so fond of. The claws of One's thought can reach and just touch, but cannot grasp. It can dip, but not shape. This is wrong.
Whisper on the radio earbud. "Leo to team, I've got a headache."
One drops to a squat. Rests back against a tree. A different approach is warrented. Quicksilver is quick to twist. There are other ways. This prey is no different. Base impulses; eat, sleep, fuck, swirl around and above quicksilver thoughts. Rising above this net. They are primal, but diffuse; weep, fight, flight. Like grasping mud, they squish away. So much easier with the shriven, quicksilver beaten down, no doubts about the properness of them. They just respond.
"Feeling tired. Trying to shake it off."
One feels pushback. Like night fogs the base looks solid, but slides away. This prey cannot be reached. There are others.
"It passed. Stay alert."
"Check-in."
"Leo, here."
"Doc. Here."
"Root, check."
Four in an arc. Two close together; fundamentally different. The first is dim, but quicksilver swims beneath. The other, small and tightly drawn, One sees gleams of quicksliver deep down. This is a stalker, hunter, killer, much like One. There isn't enough for it to be One. It is a symbiont to the prey. How do they tame a killer? Time for thoughts later.
Lightly One casts a net over the large prey. Concentrating on tightness One feels the mud gathering together.
"Kat." Yawn. "Feeling it."
The small hunter stirs beside the large prey. One feels it test the net. It moves beneath the hides. The prey turns with it. Together they look with their night weak eyes at One.
"Rex is reacting. I can't see it. Must be back in the woods."
Leo, "We're both made. Let's go out and get it."
"I agree. Form on me."
The prey throw back their hides. Stand with their loud, far reaching claws held ready. The little hunter squalls in the night, stalking forward. One explodes into motion.
Rex leads us right to where it was. Tracks, widely separated, show it moved off fast. Broken branches show it wasn't that tall, just heavy. They're plain and easy to follow.
The burst takes One far from the hunting prey, but it cannot last. One is made for stalk, sprint, and ambush, not for long chases through cold winter air. Waste stench strong around it One slows to a walk. Back One goes, back to the shelter by the water and weaker minds. The hunting prey will follow. They can kill their own while One retreats under. If they follow One will lose them in the damp mazes.
The thing made a quarter mile before slowing. The steps come close together as that point and stagger a bit. It is still moving away in a straight line. Dead reckoning leaves us thinking it might be headed towards the Dyckman Street Marina. Irony that our first landing in Manhattan will be it's last.
One clambers over the fence makes straight away for the main building. Breeder and cub, numb and cold, wait for it. Silent screams force orders into their minds. They arm themselves. One watches and waits.
There, dark shapes stealth against the snow. They are far outside prey-eyes, but show well to One. They circle the shelter. One sends breeder and cub to ambush. Down it will go. Let the prey kill one another.
In the basement One moves to the inspection hatch set in the floor. It pulls the grate aside and slips in. There One pauses, net thrown wide. It anticipates the burst of pain and suffering to come. It will do much to assuage the chagrin it feels from fleeing from prey.
The cub falls upon them first. The pain of impact and then being hurdled away. Cub comes up with a knife in hand. Fear and rage send it charging at the monsters that would threaten breeder. Sudden eruption of blinding pain in the gut. Cub falls away.
Breeder screeches in rage. Club swinging at the leader who hurt her cub. The prey blocks her strike. Shouts incomprehensibly at her.
"Eileen, stop, Tom sent us!"
Breeder strikes again. A mighty two handed overhead swing that ends at the top of the doorway. Pain runs down her arms. Numb hands drop her club. There is impact as breeder is tackled. She fights on.
"Leo, help me!"
"Pin her, I've got the kid!"
Outside the basement window the small hunter yowls. One of the prey, led by it, send far claws barking through the pane. Stung, but not struck, One drops into the access way.
"Doc here. It went underground!"
The stone ways are narrow and cramped this near the water. They lead only one way. Hands and feet scrabble against the either side of the access as One bursts the second time this night.
We're hunched double in the sewer line.
"Fuck, look at the sides."
Clear marks from scrabbling clawed hands and feet mark the sides a quarter to halfway up the tunnel.
"It's moving now, it'll stop soon. Watch for an ambush."
Burst over, One has raced past two tunnel enlargements. Here, the vault arches high above it. There is enough of a lip for it to hide. Far back One hears the angry prey. No more strength to run. One climbs above the entrance passage and waits. Strength enough to fight and if not win then bleed the foe.
Leo signals halt. Ahead, no more than five feet, the tunnel opens up. He signs, "Ambush ahead." It is a good spot. Beside him Rex thrumms a silent song of rage. Leo has one restraining hand on him. Before Rex can move on Leo grasps him with both hands and lofts him through the widening arch to land, angry and soaked, in the chilly water.
Small killer flies under One. A trembling claw almost lashes out. No, freeze, they suspect.
Leo grins in the dark. The others know enough to keep silent. He knows it is there. It has to be. He unclips his flash. Click it and toss.
Harsh light strobes over One. The pain from assaulted eyes is kept bottled in. Instinct sends it scrambling from the ambush site to a dark corner. Hide.
"Flash" Leo whispers. Patterson slaps one into his hand. Back against the wall he pans the bright light around the opposite edge towards the faint sounds he's heard. Rex squalls as he crawls from the water. "I see you."
Huddled in the corner, eyes blinded, One turns other senses outward. Pinned they come for it. Death comes. The light bearer makes room for another to pass. The far claws swing towards him.
"You're one ugly fuck."
One explodes for the last time springing inside the radius of the claw. Deafening barks sound beside it as One drives into the prey, ripping and tearing into the soft organs. The claws deliver punishing impacts, but don't penetrate the mottled skins. Prey cheats.
Prey reverses the far claw and strikes. One falls under the blows. Other prey's far claws bark in anger. Pain. Pain. Plead.
It huddles against the inspection-way. Dark blood drips. It fills the M60 site. Through my head flashes a parade of pleading faces. "No, please, no!" I glimpse one of my men.
"Yes."
One's final screams are overridden by the far claws triumphant growl. The deafening chatter echoes down the sewers. Another scream, unheard by the prey, reverberates much further.
Kilpatrick, woken from a sound sleep, meets Jones in the corridor.
"You heard?" Jones strikes first.
"And saw. Your Major is a busy bint."
"So?"
"You'll have the men you need."
"Thank you, sir."
"Shut-up and fix this mess. The bloodkin will not be pleased."
Elsewhere other One's turn to the north.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
089: Tom 2
Paterson, December 24th, 2000
The walk back is just as cold, but more fragrant. He has the scent of dirt and rot about him. More delousing and cleaning. Joys.
I radio George we're coming in and to have the civies away from the door we'll be using. No need to worry them any more than they are. I leave our latest acquisition in Doc's caring hands. She'll call when he's ready.
---------------------------------------
"Major, I've got him in restraints. He wouldn't calm down, so I dosed him with a light sedative before conducting my exam."
"You got him to take a pill?"
"No, put it up the other way." Ewww. "once it took effect I conducted my exam. Kat, he's not talking because he doesn't have a tongue."
"What?"
"He's got a ragged and infected stump. From the state of the wound it's no more than three days old. I've started him on a regimen of anti-biotic and pain relief." Her glare dares me to comment on her expenditure of limited resources. This changes things. He's looking more like a victim than a enemy.
She rubs her forehead. "I haven't cleaned it out yet. He won't want to communicate after I clean and abrade the stump. I have shaved and cleaned him. He's ready when you are."
-----------------------------------------
We've got him in medical four point restraints in an interior room with the ceiling lights on. Let's them know that civilization is back. Even with the sedatives he tests his bonds and is raggedly breathing. I check with Doc and she nods a go ahead.
I set an alphabet board on his bed beside his hand. It has the alphabet, numbers, yes, no, and a few other symbols for communicating with patients who are cognizant, but have lost speech. there's a notebook and crayons on the bedside table for later.
"I'm Major Paterson, US Marines. I'm in command at this facility. Do you understand?" He nods points, YES.
"What's your name?" T O M
"Good, we've given you medication for your tongue." He flinches. "And pain relief. Are you still hurting?" YES.
I pull out the pain chart. "Point at your level of pain." There's a set of faces from smiling to bawling tears. He points at the crying face.
"You're in the worst pain you've ever felt?" NO.
Twenty questions. I try to get him to give me a pain level, but he keeps pointing from the crying face and tug at his cuffs.
"Your cuffs hurt?" NO
Tears run down his cheeks. G O. N O W. N I G H T.
"It's still afternoon. You're too sick to let out." P L E A S E. he jerks his arm and makes a shaking motion with his thumb, index, and forefinger together. "You want to write?" YES.
I place the paper pad beside him. "I'm going to remove your restraint and give you a crayon. Don't try to remove any others or we will lock you back down. Understand?" He nods slowly.
Yeah, victim for sure. The first think he scribbles is a crude man shaped figure with a long tube for a nose. He makes three stick figures below it. "'Eee," he forces out while pointing at one. "'On, ffff!"
Block letters fill the margins. I WATCH, IT COME NIGHT.
"You were watching when you saw it come?"
He points at I WATCH, scribbles FOR ARMY. He points at IT COME, scribbles EAT THEM.
"You're watching for us." Nods. "If you're not there at night it will kill the two. Your, son and wife?" YES
I point at the thing figure. "I've killed these things before. I want this one dead too. We'll get them back. Write out everything you remember." He scribbles.
-----------------------------------------------
We live north. Scavange/trade.
Late, late. Hear man screem.
Went to him. He hurt. Take him in.
Wake. cant move. Is IT not him.
IT tells/shows/screams.
I watch or IT eat wife/son.
take me to road. leave me there. I watch.
-------------------------------------------------
As he nears the end Alphabit comes into the room with water and soup. Rex follows at his heels.
As 'bit sets the meal down Rex leaps up on the bed. He sniffs at the man and settles near the foot to begin grooming. Tom smiles down.
I try to get him back to the writing while 'bit wheels out a bin full of Tom's rags. As the rank bin rolls past Rex starts and arches while glaring.
"Donald!"
"Yes, Major?"
"Leave that just outside. Stay with it."
He looks puzzled, but 'yes, ma'ams' me.
------------------------------------------------
"He's a little fogy on time, but I think he was grabbed in the wee hours of the 22nd. The same night our people were killed. The thing comes to him at night and questions him about the day's events. It doesn't talk. It screams in his head."
"Sounds like the Word of God," mutters Root.
"More like nails on the blackboard. But the point is, it'll be back tonight."
"Good, I'm going." Root making a statement not a request.
"Yeah, you, me, Leo, and Doc. Ed, Alphabit you're our backup. Stay here in case it does an end run."
"Right." and "Yes, ma'am."
"I don't want to take him, but I think we'll need Tom to lure it out. Doc can you put him to sleep? I don't know if him thinking about us will scare it off or not."
"Sure can."
"Good, we'll need to get moving soon. We've got to get there well before dark and prepare our positions. Oh, we're taking Rex too." Questioning looks. Doubting my sanity again?
"That cat's our early warning system. He twigged to whatever Jones was doing and freaked at the scent on Tom's clothes. The outermost layer had a barely detectable odor, like the reptile house. I'll take him, but he's coming."
The walk back is just as cold, but more fragrant. He has the scent of dirt and rot about him. More delousing and cleaning. Joys.
I radio George we're coming in and to have the civies away from the door we'll be using. No need to worry them any more than they are. I leave our latest acquisition in Doc's caring hands. She'll call when he's ready.
---------------------------------------
"Major, I've got him in restraints. He wouldn't calm down, so I dosed him with a light sedative before conducting my exam."
"You got him to take a pill?"
"No, put it up the other way." Ewww. "once it took effect I conducted my exam. Kat, he's not talking because he doesn't have a tongue."
"What?"
"He's got a ragged and infected stump. From the state of the wound it's no more than three days old. I've started him on a regimen of anti-biotic and pain relief." Her glare dares me to comment on her expenditure of limited resources. This changes things. He's looking more like a victim than a enemy.
She rubs her forehead. "I haven't cleaned it out yet. He won't want to communicate after I clean and abrade the stump. I have shaved and cleaned him. He's ready when you are."
-----------------------------------------
We've got him in medical four point restraints in an interior room with the ceiling lights on. Let's them know that civilization is back. Even with the sedatives he tests his bonds and is raggedly breathing. I check with Doc and she nods a go ahead.
I set an alphabet board on his bed beside his hand. It has the alphabet, numbers, yes, no, and a few other symbols for communicating with patients who are cognizant, but have lost speech. there's a notebook and crayons on the bedside table for later.
"I'm Major Paterson, US Marines. I'm in command at this facility. Do you understand?" He nods points, YES.
"What's your name?" T O M
"Good, we've given you medication for your tongue." He flinches. "And pain relief. Are you still hurting?" YES.
I pull out the pain chart. "Point at your level of pain." There's a set of faces from smiling to bawling tears. He points at the crying face.
"You're in the worst pain you've ever felt?" NO.
Twenty questions. I try to get him to give me a pain level, but he keeps pointing from the crying face and tug at his cuffs.
"Your cuffs hurt?" NO
Tears run down his cheeks. G O. N O W. N I G H T.
"It's still afternoon. You're too sick to let out." P L E A S E. he jerks his arm and makes a shaking motion with his thumb, index, and forefinger together. "You want to write?" YES.
I place the paper pad beside him. "I'm going to remove your restraint and give you a crayon. Don't try to remove any others or we will lock you back down. Understand?" He nods slowly.
Yeah, victim for sure. The first think he scribbles is a crude man shaped figure with a long tube for a nose. He makes three stick figures below it. "'Eee," he forces out while pointing at one. "'On, ffff!"
Block letters fill the margins. I WATCH, IT COME NIGHT.
"You were watching when you saw it come?"
He points at I WATCH, scribbles FOR ARMY. He points at IT COME, scribbles EAT THEM.
"You're watching for us." Nods. "If you're not there at night it will kill the two. Your, son and wife?" YES
I point at the thing figure. "I've killed these things before. I want this one dead too. We'll get them back. Write out everything you remember." He scribbles.
-----------------------------------------------
We live north. Scavange/trade.
Late, late. Hear man screem.
Went to him. He hurt. Take him in.
Wake. cant move. Is IT not him.
IT tells/shows/screams.
I watch or IT eat wife/son.
take me to road. leave me there. I watch.
-------------------------------------------------
As he nears the end Alphabit comes into the room with water and soup. Rex follows at his heels.
As 'bit sets the meal down Rex leaps up on the bed. He sniffs at the man and settles near the foot to begin grooming. Tom smiles down.
I try to get him back to the writing while 'bit wheels out a bin full of Tom's rags. As the rank bin rolls past Rex starts and arches while glaring.
"Donald!"
"Yes, Major?"
"Leave that just outside. Stay with it."
He looks puzzled, but 'yes, ma'ams' me.
------------------------------------------------
"He's a little fogy on time, but I think he was grabbed in the wee hours of the 22nd. The same night our people were killed. The thing comes to him at night and questions him about the day's events. It doesn't talk. It screams in his head."
"Sounds like the Word of God," mutters Root.
"More like nails on the blackboard. But the point is, it'll be back tonight."
"Good, I'm going." Root making a statement not a request.
"Yeah, you, me, Leo, and Doc. Ed, Alphabit you're our backup. Stay here in case it does an end run."
"Right." and "Yes, ma'am."
"I don't want to take him, but I think we'll need Tom to lure it out. Doc can you put him to sleep? I don't know if him thinking about us will scare it off or not."
"Sure can."
"Good, we'll need to get moving soon. We've got to get there well before dark and prepare our positions. Oh, we're taking Rex too." Questioning looks. Doubting my sanity again?
"That cat's our early warning system. He twigged to whatever Jones was doing and freaked at the scent on Tom's clothes. The outermost layer had a barely detectable odor, like the reptile house. I'll take him, but he's coming."
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
088: The OP
Paterson, December 24th
The walk out to Inwood Park and the Henry Hudson Bridge is a bracing change from two days underground. The wind blows off the river from the north bringing a clear, clean scent. The clouds have parted and the sun glitters off the new fallen snow. It is a beautiful afternoon.
Our OP was set back in the woods with a good view of the bridge. The dugout's cover has been ripped away and the ground trampled. Nothing to find there so we circle out.
About two hundred feet to the east I find a clean track in a hollow. Maybe a size 8, but deep with four clawed toes. Yeah, more confirmation. The track extends a short way to the east and south before petering out. We're not trailing it home tonight.
We continue round.
Doc finds a bloody bird about a hundred feet from the tollbooths on the roadway. She looks the half-eaten carcass over before prodding it. "These look like human tooth marks. And it's warm."
"Don't look around," Leo murmurs. "We're being watched."
He points off into the woods to the west. "Follow my arm. Now, look out of the corner of your eye at the middle tollbooth. Do you see him?"
Easier said than done. "Yeah, I think so. I don't see any weapons."
"Could be below the window. You two stay here and keep his attention. I'll head west and circle behind."
"Don't keep us waiting Leo."
He heads off. Doc and I share a thermos while trying not to stare. Doc tells me she didn't sign on to be a goat.
"I never signed on Doc. I got drafted."
"Yeah, right. Me too."
A masculine screech comes from the tollbooth. Leo reached in from the opposite side and got a handful of rags. The man turned and pummeled wildly. Doc and I break into a sprint.
Leo's catching fists against his helmet and vest as he gets a solid grip on our watcher. He heaves him from the booth onto the pavement. Breathless he tries to rise as Leo powers into his back crushing him back to the ground. They scuffle briefly before Leo gains a compliance lock on him. I pass over some cord and let Leo finish. I've been deloused enough this week.
The man's a mess and continues to struggle even while bound. His cries are unintelligible. Not another one. Leo loops another length of cord around his neck and demonstrates his slip knot. He settles. Leo hands me the line.
"I check the booth."
We wait. He isn't long. "Got a nest in there. Some bones from birds. No bodily waste. He's only been here a few days I think, week tops."
"We'll question him at home." I tell them. "Let's go."
The walk out to Inwood Park and the Henry Hudson Bridge is a bracing change from two days underground. The wind blows off the river from the north bringing a clear, clean scent. The clouds have parted and the sun glitters off the new fallen snow. It is a beautiful afternoon.
Our OP was set back in the woods with a good view of the bridge. The dugout's cover has been ripped away and the ground trampled. Nothing to find there so we circle out.
About two hundred feet to the east I find a clean track in a hollow. Maybe a size 8, but deep with four clawed toes. Yeah, more confirmation. The track extends a short way to the east and south before petering out. We're not trailing it home tonight.
We continue round.
Doc finds a bloody bird about a hundred feet from the tollbooths on the roadway. She looks the half-eaten carcass over before prodding it. "These look like human tooth marks. And it's warm."
"Don't look around," Leo murmurs. "We're being watched."
He points off into the woods to the west. "Follow my arm. Now, look out of the corner of your eye at the middle tollbooth. Do you see him?"
Easier said than done. "Yeah, I think so. I don't see any weapons."
"Could be below the window. You two stay here and keep his attention. I'll head west and circle behind."
"Don't keep us waiting Leo."
He heads off. Doc and I share a thermos while trying not to stare. Doc tells me she didn't sign on to be a goat.
"I never signed on Doc. I got drafted."
"Yeah, right. Me too."
A masculine screech comes from the tollbooth. Leo reached in from the opposite side and got a handful of rags. The man turned and pummeled wildly. Doc and I break into a sprint.
Leo's catching fists against his helmet and vest as he gets a solid grip on our watcher. He heaves him from the booth onto the pavement. Breathless he tries to rise as Leo powers into his back crushing him back to the ground. They scuffle briefly before Leo gains a compliance lock on him. I pass over some cord and let Leo finish. I've been deloused enough this week.
The man's a mess and continues to struggle even while bound. His cries are unintelligible. Not another one. Leo loops another length of cord around his neck and demonstrates his slip knot. He settles. Leo hands me the line.
"I check the booth."
We wait. He isn't long. "Got a nest in there. Some bones from birds. No bodily waste. He's only been here a few days I think, week tops."
"We'll question him at home." I tell them. "Let's go."
087: a little HUMINT
Paterson, December 24th
Working lunch, oat gruel with little bits of meat. I give George a questioning look.
"Pigeon. Two of our new arrivals have been busy."
"Better than Rat on a Stick," rumbles Leonid.
Doc and Alphabit grunt acknowledgement. Root just tucks in. Rex twines beneath the table looking for handouts. I slip him a sliver.
"Alright," I start around a mouthful of oats. Swallow. "We got two pressing matters. The killings and our new guest."
"We need to see the OP. Learn what we can," Leo says.
"Not much there," George answers, "We tramped all over it when they missed their radio contact. I think we'd have killed any chances of finding tracks. That and the snow."
Leo shrugs, "Still do it. We go, spiral out. Maybe find something farther away. Maybe not. Won't know till we do so."
"I concur with Leo." I tell the group, "We'll take a hike after this meeting. The bridge isn't more than a mile away. Doc, Leo, and I. 'bit, I need you and Root here to keep an eye on things." Acknowledgements all around.
"Now, our new friend. Leo and I had a talk with him after wake-up. Leo?"
"Tom Harisson, former biker turned watchdog for Hizzoner. Came to New York with his friends after the nuclear strikes. He'd heard form relocatees that the city was being evacuated and loot was ripe for the taking. He was eager to answer. Didn't even punch him." Leo smirks.
"Their strongholds are CUNY, and Central Park with Met Art and the History Museum. They have completely walled them off with rubble constructs like we've seen. He knows there are other outposts in Fordham University, but doesn't know the size or fortifications."
"There are hundreds under arms in these enclaves and thousands of workers housed outside the walls. I couldn't get any numbers more accurate than that, but given the size of areas controlled we're outnumbered many to one. I don't hold much hope for their quality given what we saw in Central Park."
"Weapons include civilian long arms, military small arms, and a number of M-60s. They 'inherited' a number of heavy weapons form the 78th. Description sounds like Mk-19s and M2HB. Ammo is scarce all around. They have a number of 2 and 1/2 ton trucks and a few Hummers. No armor that he's aware of.
"Hizzoner lives in CUNY proper, in the old library building, with his personal guard. Baddest of the bad. They're picked on fighting ability and can be appointed or challenge for entry. Very, Darwinian."
"Hizzoner also enjoys bloody spectacle. He keeps a dozen or so of the 'demented' on hand. Punishments include fighting one barehanded or being thrown to a group depending on what you did. Says these 'dements' can't talk at all and are completely savage. Yes, Major?"
"I don't like the prevalence of 'dements'. People don't completely lose language skills this quickly. I'm speculating, but could this be the work of our demon or someone like Jones? Root, did you observe anything like this in Warsaw?"
"No Major, but who knows what happen after it wins."
"Sorry Leo, please continue."
"The workers, it seems, are housed just outside the parks. They're not walled in and have minimal guards. Hizzoner works them to the bone and uses their corpses for fertilizer. I expressed surprise that they didn't just leave. Our prisoner informed me there are small detachments kept in the building. The workers slave all the daylight hours and the streets aren't secure at night. Guards rarely even patrol. The workers are more afraid of what's outside than dieing in the fields."
"Harisson blames raiders for the south and dements living and hunting from the underground. They don't go outside secured areas. From his answers it was a hard learned lesson. Something to think about."
"Now, power structures. Hizzoner runs the day-to-day public face of the 'government'. Harisson insists that nothing important happens without Snyder's input. Snyder's described as a hard-ass, ex-army. Without him, Hizzoner wouldn't have got as far as he did."
"What the man has isn't enough. He wants the whole island, but he's having trouble holding what he has. Harisson is particularly afraid of the Harlem Mau-Maus and the Duke's coalition to the south. There's been raids and skirmishes both ways."
"Things may change soon. Seems he's been in contact with a delegation from the 'real' government. Some soldier-boys were taken in about two weeks ago and the rumor mill says that they want to make Hizzoner the official head of NYC. Supposedly they've been promised official support in return for a consolidated Manhattan."
George clears his throat. Leo pauses in his lecture. "I'm sure they aren't with us. This is probably a team from the civilian government. I doubt they have the means to back up their promises, but it would put a veneer of authenticity to Hizzoner."
"Words won't replace food or guns," Leo counters.
"Yes," George replies, "but having the 'real' government supporting this asshole will make our own job harder. Perception defines reality. Did he have anything to say about our objectives?"
"I was saving it for last," Leo tells him with a frown. "He laughed at me. By the time his boys got to town all the jewelry and coin shops had been hit. They get a chain or coin in trade or by scavenging, but there's no easy money in NYC anymore."
Working lunch, oat gruel with little bits of meat. I give George a questioning look.
"Pigeon. Two of our new arrivals have been busy."
"Better than Rat on a Stick," rumbles Leonid.
Doc and Alphabit grunt acknowledgement. Root just tucks in. Rex twines beneath the table looking for handouts. I slip him a sliver.
"Alright," I start around a mouthful of oats. Swallow. "We got two pressing matters. The killings and our new guest."
"We need to see the OP. Learn what we can," Leo says.
"Not much there," George answers, "We tramped all over it when they missed their radio contact. I think we'd have killed any chances of finding tracks. That and the snow."
Leo shrugs, "Still do it. We go, spiral out. Maybe find something farther away. Maybe not. Won't know till we do so."
"I concur with Leo." I tell the group, "We'll take a hike after this meeting. The bridge isn't more than a mile away. Doc, Leo, and I. 'bit, I need you and Root here to keep an eye on things." Acknowledgements all around.
"Now, our new friend. Leo and I had a talk with him after wake-up. Leo?"
"Tom Harisson, former biker turned watchdog for Hizzoner. Came to New York with his friends after the nuclear strikes. He'd heard form relocatees that the city was being evacuated and loot was ripe for the taking. He was eager to answer. Didn't even punch him." Leo smirks.
"Their strongholds are CUNY, and Central Park with Met Art and the History Museum. They have completely walled them off with rubble constructs like we've seen. He knows there are other outposts in Fordham University, but doesn't know the size or fortifications."
"There are hundreds under arms in these enclaves and thousands of workers housed outside the walls. I couldn't get any numbers more accurate than that, but given the size of areas controlled we're outnumbered many to one. I don't hold much hope for their quality given what we saw in Central Park."
"Weapons include civilian long arms, military small arms, and a number of M-60s. They 'inherited' a number of heavy weapons form the 78th. Description sounds like Mk-19s and M2HB. Ammo is scarce all around. They have a number of 2 and 1/2 ton trucks and a few Hummers. No armor that he's aware of.
"Hizzoner lives in CUNY proper, in the old library building, with his personal guard. Baddest of the bad. They're picked on fighting ability and can be appointed or challenge for entry. Very, Darwinian."
"Hizzoner also enjoys bloody spectacle. He keeps a dozen or so of the 'demented' on hand. Punishments include fighting one barehanded or being thrown to a group depending on what you did. Says these 'dements' can't talk at all and are completely savage. Yes, Major?"
"I don't like the prevalence of 'dements'. People don't completely lose language skills this quickly. I'm speculating, but could this be the work of our demon or someone like Jones? Root, did you observe anything like this in Warsaw?"
"No Major, but who knows what happen after it wins."
"Sorry Leo, please continue."
"The workers, it seems, are housed just outside the parks. They're not walled in and have minimal guards. Hizzoner works them to the bone and uses their corpses for fertilizer. I expressed surprise that they didn't just leave. Our prisoner informed me there are small detachments kept in the building. The workers slave all the daylight hours and the streets aren't secure at night. Guards rarely even patrol. The workers are more afraid of what's outside than dieing in the fields."
"Harisson blames raiders for the south and dements living and hunting from the underground. They don't go outside secured areas. From his answers it was a hard learned lesson. Something to think about."
"Now, power structures. Hizzoner runs the day-to-day public face of the 'government'. Harisson insists that nothing important happens without Snyder's input. Snyder's described as a hard-ass, ex-army. Without him, Hizzoner wouldn't have got as far as he did."
"What the man has isn't enough. He wants the whole island, but he's having trouble holding what he has. Harisson is particularly afraid of the Harlem Mau-Maus and the Duke's coalition to the south. There's been raids and skirmishes both ways."
"Things may change soon. Seems he's been in contact with a delegation from the 'real' government. Some soldier-boys were taken in about two weeks ago and the rumor mill says that they want to make Hizzoner the official head of NYC. Supposedly they've been promised official support in return for a consolidated Manhattan."
George clears his throat. Leo pauses in his lecture. "I'm sure they aren't with us. This is probably a team from the civilian government. I doubt they have the means to back up their promises, but it would put a veneer of authenticity to Hizzoner."
"Words won't replace food or guns," Leo counters.
"Yes," George replies, "but having the 'real' government supporting this asshole will make our own job harder. Perception defines reality. Did he have anything to say about our objectives?"
"I was saving it for last," Leo tells him with a frown. "He laughed at me. By the time his boys got to town all the jewelry and coin shops had been hit. They get a chain or coin in trade or by scavenging, but there's no easy money in NYC anymore."
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