by E. R. Torre
The group left the shadows and walked to the other side of the barrack. They stared at the message.
“Maybe this isn’t about playing games with us,” Jennie Light said after a while. “Maybe they’re suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Doctor Evans asked. “About what?”
“About us,” Jennie Light said. “Think about it: A military base goes dark, and the government decides that rather than send in the full might of the military, they choose to send in this small, barely armed group.” Jennie Light paused and pointed to General Spradlin. “They think we’re up to something. I think they’re right.”
Becky Waters and Samantha Aron also faced General Spradlin.
“What she says makes a lot of sense, General,” Becky said. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“Come on, General,” Samantha implored. “Tell us you didn’t come all this way just to watch us get butchered.”
“Tell us what you know,” Jennie Light insisted.
General Spradlin shook his head.
“Right now, we search for survivors,” he said. “If there are any.”
The barracks on Bad Penny consisted of three very plain one story metal pre-fabricated buildings. Housed inside each building were five rows of twenty cots. In the first building, everything was neat and tidy. The beds were made and all appeared to be in its place. Personal items were stored in their bags and laid out in the middle of each bed.
There was no one to be seen.
General Spradlin, Samantha Aron, and Becky Waters conducted the search while Jennie Light and Doctor Evans moved Frank Masters on the stretcher. They remained at the rear of the group.
“Let’s go to the next building,” General Spradlin told his group.
They quietly moved to the next structure. Inside, General Spradlin found almost everything the same as the first barrack. All was in order and all items were in their place, except for one thing. There was a black toiletry bag sprawled on the floor, its contents spilled. There was a bottle of shaving cream, a razor, and a toothbrush lay beside the bag.
“It’s like everyone just got up and left,” Becky Waters said.
“I expected some signs of struggle, something,” Samantha added. “Anything.”
“Let’s move on,” General Spradlin said.
They examined the remaining barrack and again found little evidence of struggle. Even more worrisome, they found neither corpses nor survivors. How was it possible three of these creatures could so thoroughly take over this base? And where were the soldiers? Where was everyone?
Samantha though about that as they searched the final barrack. She thought she had an answer.
“It was dinner time when we left,” Samantha said. “Most of the soldiers were heading from the barracks to the mess hall.”
“That might explain why we see no signs of anyone,” Becky said.
General Spradlin nodded.
“The supply shed is next,” he said. “Let’s check it out.”
They found the supply shed’s doors ajar and swinging in the light breeze. The place was always kept under lock and key, given the supplies within.
General Spradlin was the first to enter the small building. It took only a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light within. When he did, he was shocked by what he found.
Or, rather, what he didn’t find.
The supply shed consisted of an entry/waiting area. A wire mesh kept visitors separated from rows of shelving that normally were filled with weapons, communication devices, clothing, paper, and toiletries.
The shelves were completely bare.
“My God,” Becky Waters said. She was right behind General Spradlin.
“I take it this room carried some supplies at one time?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Too many, if you ask me.”
“Not anymore,” Doctor Evans said. “No chance we’ll find another PCOM here.”
“No,” General Spradlin said. He walked back to the shed’s exit.
“Let’s go to the Mess Hall.”
The group walked along the main road. They kept to the shadows and whatever brush they could hide behind. Along the way, they passed a single HUMVEE parked beside the road. The driver door was open. Jennie Light examined the vehicle’s interior as the group drew close to it.
“Our first sign of a struggle,” she whispered.
The driver’s side window of the HUMVEE was shattered and glass littered the vehicle’s insides. Severed wires dangled below the steering wheel. Becky Waters examined the damage. It was minor. She popped the hood open and checked the engine. It looked like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it.
“There’s no way to get this running,” Becky said.
“Then we continue walking,” General Spradlin said.
The group left the HUMVEE and headed down the road. After a short while, they could just make out the roof of the three story tall mess hall.
Samantha swallowed. They were also feet away from the cabins. Feet away from the where she left Warren last night.
Please, she thought. Please still be alive.
But whatever optimism she tried generating dissolved as they approached. As with the barracks, the cabins were eerily silent. There were no lights, there were no people. The individual buildings looked completely untouched. There was no debris or signs of struggle.
It was more than Samantha could take.
She broke away from the group and ran to her cabin.
“Wait!” General Spradlin yelled.
But the Captain wasn’t listening. She reached her cabin door and found it ajar. She disappeared inside.
“Private Waters, come with me,” General Spradlin said. “Doctor Evans, Private Light, get off the road and wait for us to return.”
General Spradlin and Becky Waters cautiously walked to the cabin’s entrance. They stopped at either side of its door.
“Samantha?” General Spradlin whispered into the cabin.
He received no response.
Spradlin sighed.
“Let’s go,” Spradlin told Becky Waters before heading inside.
The inside of the cabin was very small. The bed was unmade but otherwise everything appeared to be in its place. A shirt and pair of pants hung on a chair. The closet door was ajar, revealing more clothing. A book lay on the night table.
“Samantha?” General Spradlin called out.
He heard a sound coming from a door at the rear of the structure. He motioned for Becky Waters to stay close as he approached that entry.
From where he stood, General Spradlin saw a glass shower door. It was closed. There was water gleaming on the shower’s floor, dripping from the shower itself.
“Samantha?” he whispered.
He heard someone take a breath. He pulled his black blade from its holster and gritted his teeth. He entered the bathroom.
Samantha Aron stood beside the toilet. In her hands was a white shirt. She was staring at the sink. A cup on the sink held two toothbrushes.
“Samantha?” General Spradlin repeated.
Samantha Aron didn’t look back. She shook her head and sobbed.
“He’s not here. No one is here. Everyone’s gone.”
General Spradlin slid the black blade back in its place but held on to its handle.
“People don’t just disappear,” he said.
“Then where are they?”
General Spradlin placed his free hand on the pilot’s shoulder.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” he said. His voice was gentle and surprisingly caring.
Samantha’s body shook as she let out another sob. When the emotion passed, she nodded. She wiped the tears from her eyes and gently folded the shirt before laying it on the sink.
“Let’s do that,” she said before stepping past General Spradlin and Becky Waters and heading out of the cabin.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The base was silent.
The base was dead.
&n
bsp; And to the survivors of the Little Charlie, it felt like they were walking over her corpse.
The light breeze again kicked up. In the distance, a door creaked. The sound came from the direction of the mess hall, now fully visible from the road.
“The east side entrance,” Jennie Light pointed out.
The door was ajar and the early morning breeze played with it like a cat with a mouse. It creaked open before gently swinging shut.
The group silently approached the building. As with the rest of the base, there was no one around and there were no signs of struggle. Private Waters, however, noted one oddity: The electrical lines to the building were cut. She pointed this out to General Spradlin.
“There was no electricity in the barracks, either,” Becky said.
General Spradlin motioned for the rest of the group to stay before approaching the swinging door. Doing so meant he was forced from the camouflage of the bushes. The morning sun was high in the sky and illuminated everything not hidden in shadow.
General Spradlin quickly approached the thin metal door. The mess hall windows, dark and impenetrable, silently stared back at him. The metal door let out another loud creak, like a siren beckoning a sailor.
Sweat rolled down Spradlin’s face. The sound was in his head and warned the creatures he imagined were lurking in the dark places all around him.
Spradlin’s hand lay on the black blade’s handle. He reached the Mess Hall door, took a very deep breath to calm his nerves, and grabbed it. For a moment, the infernal screech ended. The silence, however, proved even more unnerving. Spradlin looked around, convinced this silence was a sign of coming disaster. He remained still for several long seconds.
Nothing moved, nothing stirred.
Spradlin’s focus returned to the door and the Mess Hall. He stared into the darkness beyond the door and could detect no motion within. The rays of the sun penetrating the building’s east side windows illuminated the furniture within. Normally, the chairs and tables were arranged in neat rows. Here, they were littered about as if they were victims of a tornado. Chairs were shattered and tables were flung about like leaves in the wind. Dark marks were spread all over the floor.
Blood.
There it was, mingled in with the destruction, the first evidence of the furious struggle between the personnel of the base and the creatures.
This is where they made their last stand, General Spradlin thought. This is where many –maybe most– of the three hundred soldiers died.
But where were the bodies?
Spradlin motioned to the others in his group to join him. He entered the Mess Hall and held the door while they stepped inside. Samantha was the last to enter.
“My God,” she said.
The others were just as incredulous with the destruction around them.
“At least they fought back,” Jennie Light muttered.
Becky Waters noted a large puddle of blood by a wall. Whoever was the source of the blood, he –or she– had been dragged away. The blood stains led to the double doors separating the mess hall from the kitchen.
“Do you smell that?” Samantha said. “Something’s burning.”
General Spradlin quietly closed and locked the side entrance door. The later action almost made him laugh. This simple door lock would hold back one of those creatures for maybe two seconds. Three if they were lucky.
“Private Light and Doctor Evans, put Captain Masters in the east corner,” Spradlin said. “When you’re done, watch this door. Doctor Evans, stay with Captain Masters. Private Waters and Captain Aron, please come with me.”
Becky and Samantha accompanied General Spradlin the length of the floor and to the double doors at the rear of the Mess Hall. From a distance, they appeared intact. As the trio approached, they noted scrapes and more dark splatters.
General Spradlin leaned against the doors and listened for anything coming from the kitchen beyond. He heard nothing. He removed the knife from its sheath and handed his M-16 to Samantha.
“There may be survivors,” he whispered. Then, in an even more silent voice, added: “But there might not be.”
General Spradlin’s attention returned to the door. It had no lock and was meant to swing freely in or out, allowing Mess Hall staff easy entry and exit into the kitchen. General Spradlin laid his free hand flat on the door and gently pushed. The trio stepped inside.
It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. It took another full minute for their minds to comprehend what they were seeing.
Between forty or fifty bodies were thrown into a bloody pile. Most of them were ripped to shreds. One of the stoves was left on and one of the bodies, now charred to a crisp, roasted over the open gas fire.
For several seconds the trio stood before this scene of carnage, their minds trying to make some sense of it.
“My God,” Samantha said.
General Spradlin stepped over several corpses and turned the stove off.
“I knew something was burning,” Samantha said while fighting back the urge to throw up.
She eyed the bodies, recognizing a few faces, people she came in contact with while at the base. Many of them she had transported here. Despite their familiarity, they were casual acquaintances at best.
All but one.
Through the bloody mound she spotted Warren. Despite the blood caked across his face, his features were remarkably intact. Below his neck, however, was evidence of the creature’s deadly handiwork. There was a softball sized hole in Warren’s chest. The cavity extended right through and beyond his heart. His death was instantaneous.
This was the only thing Samantha could be grateful for.
Samantha could no longer control herself. She fell to her knees before her lover’s body and grabbed his hand. It was very cold.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “So sorry.”
General Spradlin and Becky allowed the grief stricken pilot her privacy. General Spradlin motioned for Becky to search the east side of the kitchen while he headed west. More bodies were littered at the corners and the two searched through them for weapons or anything they could use against those things. But the victims of the Mess Hall slaughter were, with the exception of kitchen knives and other cooking utensils, woefully unarmed. They had come that past evening for dinner. They were not prepared for a fight to the death.
Becky’s dark mood turned even bleaker. The confrontation they had with the creatures proved how fearsome they were and the bodies that lay before her proved, as if there could be any more doubt, there was no way their small group could take them on.
Killing the chameleon back in the forest represented the faintest flicker of hope. After seeing the welcome sign on the barrack and the carnage within the mess hall, it was clear this initial victory was nothing more than blind luck.
They have something in mind for us, she thought. Something special.
She stopped and let her fear and anger work its way through her body. She heard Samantha crying and thought, at the very least, she didn’t have any loved ones among the dead. Despite three years of service, she always kept to herself and remained independent, to the base as well as the military. Perhaps, she mused, to the world itself. Nobody to worry about and no one worrying about her.
Another lie, Becky thought.
Because she did care. She cared deeply. For herself, of course, but also for the others in this small group. For the rest of the world. What would happen if these creatures got away from the base? What if they made it to the mainland? Could they multiply? If so, could anything stop them?
They were chameleons, General Spradlin said. They were designed to fit in to crowds and infiltrate. What if one or more of them entered a nuclear facility or a missile silo? What was to stop them from setting off a nuclear device and ridding the world of all humanity?
So concerned was Becky with these thoughts that she nearly missed the old man’s body. Even then, her eyes were drawn to him because his bright white lab coat st
ood out against the standard green military fatigues of the other victims. The man appeared to be in his late sixties. He had a white goatee and probably had white hair on his head. However, Becky could only guess that was the case because the man’s skull had been ripped off. Exposed brain tissue attested to the fact that he, like the others here, was most certainly dead. But that was not what held Becky’s attention.
Tied to his belt was a familiar large knife sheath.
Fuck me, Becky thought. She spun around and found General Spradlin on the other side of the kitchen, focused on his search. Samantha remained kneeling beside the corpse of her lover.
Becky’s attention returned to the sheath. She reached down and tugged at it. Her hands trembled with excitement. Could the man have been carrying another of those black blades? Could she get that lucky?
Becky pulled harder. She needed to free the corpse.
The man in the white lab coat was wedged under a pair of bodies. From the look of things, those victims were as young and green as Alicia Cunningham. Becky swallowed hard. She rolled one of the bodies away. This gave her better access to the belt and holster.
She grabbed and pulled at it. She was frantic, knowing that at any moment General Spradlin would notice her actions. What would he do if he found out she had a blade? Would he take it away from her? No. It was hers. She wouldn’t let the General have it. She’d keep the blade for herself and...
The holster was empty.
Becky let out a breath. After the euphoria of the find, she felt utterly defeated. Finding another black blade represented hope. Finding another black blade meant she could fight those things. It meant she could once again be independent, self-reliant.
No longer. She was just another of the survivors in the group and dependent on General Spradlin or Doctor Evans and their weapons. She could not take on the creatures. Not on her own.
“Lieutenant Waters,” General Spradlin called out from the other side of the room.
Becky rubbed her face and composed herself. She turned, fearful that the General had spotted what she was up to. She was relieved to see his back to her. He was in the other corner of the kitchen, kneeling before one of the corpses. Becky walked to his side.
