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.
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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.
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