by Mark Harritt
The female used the attack by the Ancient to slip away. She whirled and disappeared into the forest behind her. The Ancient turned his head at the unexpected movement. The male moved quickly, shifting to attack the Ancient. The Ancient’s head snapped back to watch the wounded male. It was displeased by the lack of deference that the wounded male displayed. The Ancient launched onto the male. The male couldn’t support the weight of the Ancient with its leg broken, and it collapsed into the mud. The Ancient gripped the back of the male’s neck and shook the animal. It wasn’t hard enough to kill, but it drew blood.
The attitude of the male changed quickly, knowing that it was defeated. The tension from its body disappeared, and it lay quiescent under the Ancient. The other male was across the clearing. With the aggressive male under control, the Ancient turned and thundered a series of coughing challenges at the smaller male. The male looked hesitant, then it ducked its head, turned, and disappeared into the forest.
Jennifer called Mike over the command channel, “Mike, should we engage?”
“Mickey, you got anymore .50 cal?”
“Naw, Mike. I’m out.”
Mike thought about it, and thought about how much ammunition they had left, “I think it’s better if we wait and see. We need to conserve ammunition. The one on the ground can’t get to us, not with a broken leg. If the Ancient starts to climb, light him up.”
The Ancient turned its attention back to the beast on the ground. The male lay its head down on the ground, its fate to be decided by the Ancient. The Ancient put its head over the male’s neck, right where the spine met the back of the skull. The world stopped as the display of dominance continued. It looked like it could go either way.
Suddenly, the wounded male lifted its head, and a plaintive howl echoed through the night. The Ancient’s head moved quickly, and its jaw snapped as it buried its teeth into the back of the neck. The Ancient furiously shook the male’s neck. The male dragon’s body quivered and slackened as death took it.
The Ancient drew back away from the gigantic carcass, slowly moving into the shadows of the forest. It hissed as it backed away, saliva and gore trailing from its mouth. It stopped at the edge of the forest, only shoulders and head visible. It bellowed a challenge at the defenders of the compound and disappeared into the foliage.
Somebody said, “It’s over.”
“For now,” Mike thought.
“Holy crap! What was that? I never thought I’d see a dragon go into submission. I thought they always fought to the death, no matter what,” Tom exclaimed.
Ken called Mike, “Hey, we need to go check on Ben and Mitchem.”
“Damn, I forgot about them.”
Mike called over to Jennifer, “Jen, we need some Mech support so we can go look for Ben and Mitchem.”
“How many do you need?”
“Two should do it.”
“Keisha, Michelle, you’re up.”
“Roger,” Michelle replied.
Keisha’s response was less than professional, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Mike winced, knowing that Jennifer was going to have a talk with her later. The two Mechs started walking towards the back of the landing.
He looked at his team, “Let’s go.”
Everett pointed to the back, “Lead on.”
Mike started toward the back of the landing.
They arrived at the stairs and started down. Mike looked at the slaughter and was amazed that they’d lived through it. It was a testimony to the capabilities of the techs.
They walked past the corpses. The no-see-um’s and other bugs would be unbearable tomorrow. They were going to have to drag all of these corpses to the front of the compound wall and drop them over. They’d have to untangle the mess that had been created by the overturned trees. The work ahead was daunting.
They spread out as they arrived at the bottom of the steps. Ken’s team was walking down behind them. On the other side, the two Mechs were walking down the steps with heavy strides.
Michelle called Mike, “Mike, where do you want us?”
“Just walk behind us, make sure no more of those spawn are out there. You can see out further than we can. I don’t think there are many, if any, of the spawn around anymore. If you see anything, give us a heads up so we can engage.”
“Roger, you got it Mike. Did you hear that Keisha?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
The smoker, a building, wasn’t far away from the wall. It only took them a few minutes to get there. They walked slowly, looking for other spawn. Mike took point and walked up to the front of the building. An a-frame stood next to the building, two tables next to it, used to butcher and prep the carcasses for the smoker. The ground around the smoker was churned up. Mike looked at the building. The door had deep scratches and the boards around the building looked like they’d been chewed on.
Mike didn’t see any place where the walls had been breached. There was still hope that Ben and Mitchem were still alive. It was still raining, but Mike didn’t care. Mike took off his helmet. He thought he was wet before, but taking off his helmet increase the amount of water sluicing into his body armor. He walked up to the door and banged on it, “Is anybody in there?”
He listened. He heard movement inside, but there was no reply. He banged on the door, and yelled again, “Hey, I hear you in there. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He listened again. Again, he heard movement, but whoever was in there didn’t answer.
“Ken, can you put your guys out for security? We need to open the door and get Mickey in there to take a look at them,” Mike asked.
“Sure Mike.”
Mike hooked a thumb at the door, “Mickey, you want to try?”
Mickey took his helmet off and banged on the door, “You okay? It’s Mickey. I need to look at you and make sure you’re okay.”
A voice yelled out, “Hang on.”
Mickey looked at Mike, “Did that sound like Mitchem to you?”
Mike nodded, “Yeah. Hopefully they’re both in there.”
There was more noise. It sounded like Mitchem was moving something in there, sliding it across the floor. The sound stopped for a moment then started again. Mitchem either had to take a breather, or he had to move around to get better leverage. The door opened. Mitchem looked out. He looked like hell. He opened the door fully and stepped back. Mickey walked in and asked, “Have you seen Ben?”
Mitchem pointed over at the corner, “he’s over there.”
Mickey stopped in the doorway, looked around in the room, then started toward the corner. Mike stepped into the doorway. He looked around. Behind the door, carcasses hung in various stages of the smoking process. There was a box of salt, the result of Matki’s trip to his people. That was what Mitchem had been dragging out of the way.
Mike looked over at the corner. Ben wasn’t moving. Mickey was looking for a pulse, but Mike could tell he was dead. The corpse was bloated, straining against the fabric of its clothes.
Mike looked at Mitchem, “What happened?”
Mitchem’s face looked bleak as he told Mike the story, “Ben brought me a bag of new herbs for the meat. We heard the howling, but we didn’t know they were coming over the wall. They came at us out of the dark. He saved my life. He pushed me in here, then tried to get in behind me. One of them,” Mike assumed that Mitchem was talking about the spawn, “grabbed his leg and started biting him. I slammed the door against it, and it let go. We pushed the box of salt against the door. Ben,” Mitchem had to stop and compose himself, “Ben had problems standing up. I put him on the bench, and tried to stop the bleeding. But he was having problems breathing.”
Mike put his hand on Mitchem’s shoulder, “I’m sorry Mitchem.”
Mitchem looked at Mike. Mike recoiled from the hate that he saw in the depths of Mitchem’s eyes
“Ben was my only friend. Nobody would talk to me. Ben was the only person that would have anything to do with me. Now he’s dead, and you killed him.”<
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“We need to talk.”
Mike knew that tone of voice. He’d heard it many times from Jo. He seemed to be hearing it more and more from Jennifer. It meant she was pretty damn serious.
“Why?” Mike asked.
Mike was seated on the ledge under the rock overhang. His helmet, rifle, battle rattle and upper torso body armor was lying on the rock ledge next to him. He had a canteen of water that he was drinking from. He was completely soaked. He wasn’t in the mood for talking. He didn’t believe what Mitchem had said. Intellectually, he knew that Ben’s death wasn’t his fault, Mitchem was just striking out at a familiar target. Still, Mike took Ben’s death personally. He took every death personally.
Jennifer stood over him. She didn’t look happy. She crooked a finger, motioning for him to follow her. She turned without giving a reply, expecting him to follow. She walked away, toward the far side of the ledge, as far away from everybody else that she could get.
“I think you better follow her,” Everett said.
“She don’t look happy, Mike,” Mickey added.
Mike sighed. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. He never did when he came to women. That wasn’t Mike’s strength. He’d been very lucky that Jo had seen past the goofy nerd that he was.
He levered himself up from the floor, “Watch my weapon, please,” he said, to no one in particular.
“Yup,” Tom replied.
Roberto raised one eyebrow, “Mike, you need help with the women, you know who to talk to.” He poked himself in the chest with his thumb.
“I don’t need somebody’s husband trying to shoot me, Roberto. I think I’ll be okay,” he answered.
He limped after Jennifer. The adrenaline was gone, and he was feeling all the bumps and bruises that the intense combat had inflicted on him. Dragon spawn trying to rip your body apart had that effect.
There was no way they would have survived the full onslaught of spawn without the body armor. He’d already praised the tech team and specifically told them that their efforts saved the Spec and Sec teams from the spawn. The plates kept the spawn from biting through, the foam mitigated most of the heavier strikes, and the straps, monomolecular graphene cloth and spider silk, kept the armor from being pulled apart. None of the spawn had been able to crack the armor to get to the squishy bits. At least he didn’t think so.
By taking cover, and dealing with smaller packs, they’d been able to defeat the threat. The feeling of victory was quickly replaced by fatigue. They may start swapping war stories tomorrow, but tonight, they were all dead tired.
Jennifer kept walking, and Mike really wished she would stop. He was pretty tired, “Jen. Hey, Jen!”
Jennifer didn’t stop. Others noticed what was going on, and slowly began to move away. Mike heard an, “Uh, oh,” from someone. Somebody else said, “Oooh, she’s going to let him have it now.”
Mike shook his head. That was the biggest problem with a group this small. Everybody knew each other’s business.
Finally Jennifer stopped. She was at the very end of the ledge, close to the front of the landing, where it curved and ended at the curtain of rain.
Mike walked up, hands spread, “What do you want Jen?”
She crooked her finger, motioning for him to come closer.
“What?”
He moved closer. He towered over her.
“Closer,” she said.
He leaned over. Her hair was mussed from her helmet. He was lost in the dark pools of her eyes. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her. He started to lean into her.
Then she punched him, hard. In the chest. It hurt. A lot.
He drew back and put his hand over the bruised flesh. “What the hell was that for?” he exclaimed.
“For being stupid, stupid,” she replied.
“About what?”
She pointed a finger at him, “You almost got yourself killed.”
“When?”
“When? Five spawn! Does that remind you of anything?” she asked.
He waved her concern away, “Oh that. That was nothing. I had to cover Yee and Drapier. Drapier was moving slow because of the twisted ankle.”
“No, you don’t get to do that!”
“Do what, Jen?”
“You don’t get to justify your incredibly stupid, dumb ass decision! You had five spawn on top of you, trying to rip you apart!”
He tried to calm her. He put his hands on her shoulders, “Look Jen, nothing was going to happen to me. Tech did a great job on the body armor. Those things couldn’t get to me, no matter what they did.”
She punched him again, this time in the arm, “Screw you, Mike. Don’t you make light of this. That armor was untested! Are you trying to get killed?”
He shook his head, “No Jen, that’s not what I was trying to do.”
She grabbed his shirt and shook him, “Why is it always you? Why do you have to put your neck out?”
He stilled, his face suddenly grim. He didn’t want to tell her.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Mike? Do you have a death wish?”
“No!” he exploded. “It was my fault, Jen! They were out there because I made the wrong call. I almost got us all killed. I had to make sure that they made it back to the tunnel.”
The anger in Jennifer’s face changed. The expression on her face switched quickly from anger, to disbelief, then to pity. Suddenly, she understood.
Mike continued, “Ben died. I couldn’t save him.”
Jennifer frowned, “You think his death is your fault? Mitchem’s full of shit. You know that.”
He shook his head, “No, it’s not my fault. Mitchem was just striking out at the closest target, and it happened to be me. Still, I couldn’t save Ben.”
She studied his face, then gripped his arms, “Mike, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
She took a deep breath, “Look Mike, you saved us all. The world died, and we lived. Our families died.” She placed her hand over his chest, “Jo died. It wasn’t your fault.” She turned him so that he could see the people behind him. She pointed at them, “You saved all of them. But sometimes, people are going to die. Ben wasn’t your fault. You can’t think of everything.” She turned him back to her, “And when it happens, it won’t be your fault. You can’t save everybody. People die.”
He shook his head, “I should have had a plan in place so that we could keep track of everybody.”
She stared into his eyes, “I should have had a plan. Ken should have had a plan. Joan should have had a plan. Ed should have a plan. Everett should have had a plan.” She put her hand against his cheek, “It’s not just you, Mike. We all missed it. You can’t think of everything. You can’t protect everybody from life. Life happens. Death happens.”
Mike’s voice grew gruff with emotion, “Maybe. But it won’t keep me from trying.”
Jennifer smiled at him. She pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. She moved past him and started walking. He watched her walk away. She stopped and looked back at him, and held her hand out to him, “come on.”
He walked over to her, and took her hand, “So, you aren’t mad anymore?”
Jennifer shook her head, “No, you don’t get off that easy. I’m still mad.” She paused, “But at least I understand what’s going on in that thick head.”
He sighed. He decided to change the subject, “You mind if we go back to medical and check on Scott and Bill?”
Jen wrapped her arm around his, “That sounds like a good idea.”
They walked back past the team.
Everett watched them walk past, “Well, that’s a start.”
Tom spit, “’Bout damn time.”
Mickey couldn’t stop grinning.
“Jen’s one sexy woman,” Roberto mused.
Mickey punched him in the arm.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
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It had been a very long two and a half weeks. The dragons were gone. They hadn’t seen the Ancient since the attack. Mike had no illusions that the current situation would continue, though. He was tired. He held his hand over his eyes against the sunlight. He sat on the steps at the back of the landing, a bottle of water in one hand. His chest was bare, glistening with sweat. It had been a long time since he’d done this much work.
Every day, the Mechs had to clamber down over the tumble of logs to pull security along the edge of the forest. For the first two days, they’d dragged spawn carcasses out. Then they had to cut the larger dragon carcasses into chunks small enough for the Mechs to drag the rotting meat further out into the forest. After that, for the next two weeks, they’d cut wood and brought it into the compound. It would be a very long time before they needed any more wood.
Mike sat looking at four crosses. One of those crosses he didn’t care about. Jamison, the Director of Area 19, the DARPA facility, had been a mental case. Jamison was the reason they were here. He’d died from a brain tumor, possibly the reason he was a mental case. Mike didn’t care. There was no give in Mike about Jamison.
The other three though, they weighed on his mind. Airman Kyle Babcock, killed by Talgit, a hunting bear pack, his chest crushed. Air Force Staff Sergeant Bobby O’Neill, a suicide. An introverted gamer, the current reality had been too much for him. Now, Ben Davis, killed by ravening dragon spawn. Ben would have lived through the damage to his leg, but he couldn’t live through the poison injected by the bite.
Tom sat down beside him, “What’s up, Mike?”
Mike took a drink from the water bottle, “nothing, just thinking about the situation.”
Tom looked out in the direction that Mike was staring. He saw the four crosses, “And?”
Mike looked at him, “And, I think, that this place isn’t as good a choice that we thought it was.”
