Alphabit, December 23rd, just after midnight
Leo's returned from the wall. He sits on the inspection way and briefs us. "The wall isn't much of a barrier. Three to three point five meters topped with stretches of barbed wire or glass and steel shards. It is all rubble, easy, sloped climb. Watchtowers, 4 to 6 meters high, 700 or so meters apart. Good views of the park during day. Night, not so much. Two men in each of the towers I saw. Four man patrols on intermittent schedule inside. They didn't look like they had night vision gear. No sign of dogs."
"My plan. We go over the wall near border between barbed wire and glass. If we shift the wire over a meter we have a safe entry and they shouldn't notice it till dawn. We move up the inside of the wall to one of the towers. Take one or both of them prisoner. We egress back at the gap or right over the wall there if we've been found. Question the fuckers back home." He looks at the major, "Well?"
"Sounds good. You're point."
"Always."
The wall's as advertised. Leo makes make the climb easily. Every sound he makes seems amplified. My nerves, the light snow will dampen any slips. He restakes the wire before cutting the endpost and gently settling it back. One by one we make our way over.
We make our slow, cold way towards the northern watchtower some 300 meters away. Snowfall, cloud cover, and the dark of the moon all conspire to aid us. We're some 25 meters away when ill chance strikes. One of the guards leans over the rail on our side of the tower.
We freeze, but the Major was in mid-step and stumbles. The guard's night adjusted eyes catch the motion and take in the strange, dark shadows that weren't their before. He drops and shouts.
Leo and I burst into motion. We're under the tower when the watch's bell begins to peel. He goes straight to the ladder. I kneel, securing the open land of the park to our east. The others, cursing, join me. They take the north and south sectors with Root joining me to the east.
Leo grunts as he tries to push the tower hatch up. No good. He slides back down the rails, raises his rifle, and gives the plywood hatch a burst. The man bracing it closed shrieks, one long ear scarring peal of pain, until his lungs empty. Leo sets foot to the ladder again.
The second guard lands not a meter from me. He lands badly going to both knees. I beat Root to him. My rifle meets his shoulder as he rises. His arm distends oddly under his jacket as the should pops out of the socket. He collapses with a whimper.
The Major's M60 barks to the north. A patrol, approaching at the run, drop to the ground. She works the weapon over their positions keeping them down in folds of ground.
Root slings his rifle across his chest. "I got", he grunts as he lifts him into a fireman's carry.
"Prisoner secured!" I cry.
Major shouts, "Leo, cut us a way out! I'll hold them! Cover me from the top!"
Leo and Doc make it right up the wall. They grab and cut. They turn their ends away and release so it doesn't lash them as it recoils. The 60 continues to chatter.
Root makes it only partway up the wall before grunting and sliding back. I join him, grabbing hold of his webbing, and muscling him and his burden up the slope. My hand is warm and slick, black in the dark, as we top the wall..
Doc and Leo begin to fire. I join them. The patrol's begins blindly firing back at the tower from their shelter as our MG falls silent. The Major almost runs up the slope.
Her and I join Root at the wall's foot. "Let's go! Alpha, take point!" We're off into the dark.
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Either we outstripped any pursuit or they didn't try. We reach the storm sewers and make our way back to the boat.
The boat's still there, but our spare gear lies scattered over the walkways and deck with their shredding plastic storage bags. The softer gear still bears tooth marks. Doc says they're human.
The Major doesn't care. It is past time to go.
We paddle out into the river. The snowfall has stopped. Out in the river sits a ship. It could be one of the River Rats' two masters or someone else's. We don't want any part of it.
We paddle hard to the north, well out of night vision range, before starting the motor. I've got the tiller. Open her up.
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Must be 4:00am when we establish radio contact with base. Lt. George acknowledges our imminent return. I can hear the tension in his voice as he reports they have a situation and he'll brief us upon our return.
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We pull right up to the banks behind the Allen pavilion. George and a full squad are awaiting us. The men take the boat in hand. George takes the Major by the arm and hustles us back towards the hospital. Their heads are close together, but I still hear him briefing her. "Three dead. You need to see the bodies. I don't want to prejudice your judgement."
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They're bagged in the underground garage. The Major takes the lead in unzipping the morgue bags. Bruce Korenstra, Niel Hampton, and Robert Williams, pale and oddly serene, their bodies each bear one wound; two deep mandible marks flanking a chewed area almost like a lamprey bite. The wounds are over the arteries on the neck.
Doc takes over asking how long they've been dead. "How long have they been dead, there's no signs of lividity."
"I know," George answers, "It happened the night you left."
Eddie stumbles up and silently hands me Rex before tottering off. He looks horrible.
George sighs, "He's been up since we lost radio contact with our OP. Says he's the only one who can see. Is it what I think it is?"
"Yeah," the Major's voice rumbles with rage, "Same wounds we saw in Warsaw. We're going to have to find it."
Root's face lights up, "Kill us a demon."
"Yeah, kill us a demon."
"'Bit, Root walk patrol. The rest of you get some sleep. George, wake us halfway to noon. I want these two to get some rest before we head out."
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Been walking patrol with Rex. He's out in front crisscrossing the halls and letting me know the way is clear. He's a good cat. I let him lead me back to the underground.
He looks at me and pads over to Robert's bag. Poor man. I can't imagine how it felt.
Rex paws at the plastic. I open it up and let Rex say his goodbyes. The man always had a treat at hand for our good luck charm.
Rex nuzzles his hand and his chin. Trying his best to wake him up I think.
"That's not normal behavior," says the Major. I hadn't noticed her coming in. Been awake too long.
I tell her in all seriousness, "We're going to need more cats."
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