by Cliff Deane
To Modern Humans, those meats would not have been edible, as their time left in nonworking coolers caused them to spoil, but in the process of becoming Mags, their digestive systems had also morphed into a more adaptive ability, allowing them to eat foods Modern Humans would consider carrion.
As the Mags investigated their new home, two discoveries were made that would become a problem for humanity. They discovered bladed weapons, knives and machetes, along with the bow and arrow. No, Mags were not stupid, they were inventors and thinkers.
These discoveries would soon lead to the necessity for developing language.
The discoverers of both blades and the bow quickly demonstrated their finds. In a very short time, the adaptive Mags became skilled in the use of these wonder weapons. Several Clansmen were sent to instruct other communities in the use of the blade and bow. This new Cro-Magnon creature began a second evolution; the development of a warrior class and the rudimentary introduction of speech.
10 April 2118
President’s Office
Cheyenne Mountain
At the President’s morning Security Brief President Holcomb was updated on the kick-off of both Operation Snatch and Trap. Holcomb directed that a constant live video stream be broadcast on several computer screens throughout the Cheyenne Mountain Facility to show progress in the Mag War.
10 April 2118
Walmart Supercenter
Lagrange, GA
Mag guards posted at each open entrance to the cave rushed to tell their leaders of the giant birds that were landing in the stone field. These huge birds were spitting out those other creatures so similar to themselves.
Immediately Mags with blades and bows took up defensive positions within their cave and waited for an attack.
As the helos disgorged the soldiers from their bellies, Scouts noted that there were dozens of dead Mags littering the area near the front door. A cursory inspection showed that they had been killed by gunfire.
The two point-men slowly approached the main entrance to the Walmart store while the remaining force secured the area surrounding the building. Once the outside areas were secured, the Scouts were directed to enter and begin a search to see if the store held Mags.
After only two steps inside the darkened interior, the Scouts knew that the store was far from empty. The smell of Mag habitation was almost overpowering.
The first two Scouts entering the building were brought under fire by Mag arrows. One Trooper was hit squarely in the chest. Fortunately, his body armor deflected the projectile, though the blow did knock him onto his back. As he rose, he heard his partner scream as he was hit in the thigh by an arrow. Both men opened fire in a sweeping motion which killed most of the defenders, but not before each man suffered two additional wounds via arrows. The first man to enter took a final arrow through his right eye while the second man was again hit in his lower leg.
The invaders were now pushing through the doorway firing as they came. Once the arrows stopped flying the Soldiers began a systematic Search and Destroy mission.
As the attackers moved down the candy aisle one young Private bent over to snag a Snickers Bar. A Mag hiding atop the display case jumped from the top shelf and swung his machete over the bent head of the hungry Private. The Mag was immediately killed by a Corporal who told his partner that he should buy some lottery tickets, well, if there were still such things.
The young Private looked from the dead Mag to his Corporal and said, “Corp, I didn’t crap my pants, but only because my sphincter had slammed shut. Thanks, I owe you one.”
Two additional Troopers were injured, one by an arrow which grazed his neck with a nonlethal wound, and another suffered a deep gash to his left arm from a deflected machete blow.
Within minutes the dead and wounded were flown back to Benning. The Med-Evacs made two trips.
Unnoticed, were four Mags that were returning from teaching a nearby clan the use of the bow and arrow. They saw the entire assault and then snaked their way back to the nearby clan.
One important thing did not go unnoticed by the Mags, the clubs carried by the attackers, spit fire, thunder, and death. It is true that they were frightened, but they were also curious in the use of these clubs that bellowed death. It took nearly an hour for the store to be fully secured.
The final body count was one-hundred and twenty-three members of the clan, one dead Trooper and three wounded. Though the results presented a tremendous victory, the troopers learned a new respect for the Mag.
No, this fight would not go easy. As the briefings would show, 100% of the Mag Clan was down, the forty U.S. Army attackers had suffered a 10% reduction in combat effective personnel. This was a staggering number that would bring about a differing strategy when entering buildings with possible enemy forces inside.
The added strategy relied not on a new technique, but a very old one. Prior to entry, flash-bang grenades would be thrown to disorient the enemy within. Pride and arrogance had caused the first American military injuries and death. This mistake would not be repeated.
Following the removal and burning of the Mag bodies, the internal cleanup began. This proved to be a very nasty job as a large area was used for Mag body waste. Those men unfortunate enough to be assigned the manure detail wore painter’s masks sprayed with perfume.
The remaining Soldiers began barricading and securing the entrances to the store.
Within two hours of the assault, two CH-47 Chinook helicopters arrived with the mission essentials, plus four human replacements.
A Ranger Company was flown in and immediately began securing the buildings surrounding the Walmart store.
A thermal drone picked up the presence of possibly two Mags on the ground floor of a two-story O’Reilly’s Auto Parts store. The store was in the same strip mall anchored by the Walmart. Squad Leader, Sergeant Larry Corliss called on Corporal Willie White to lead a four-man fire team into the O’Reilly’s to check it out.
Corporal White informed his team that it was their turn in the barrel. He ordered Private Stan Wilkins and Private Orville Henderson to toss a couple of flash-bangs through the open front door. The team knew the drill, flash-bangs, then rush in, kill the shook-up Mags, or rescue survivors.
White led his team cautiously to the entrance of the parts store. Everyone on the team was very happy that no arrows came flying at them. After Wilkins and Henderson opened the door, both men tossed in the stun grenades then braced themselves against the walls. They shut their eyes and covered their ears until the grenades detonated. Each man then grabbed a door handle and pulled it open. The remaining two men of the fire team then charged into the storefront.
Two Mags were found writhing on the floor from the effects of the flash-bangs. They were quickly sent straight to hell. Each man was glad they had a painter’s mask on, because feces and urine smell seemed to always accompany any Mag wearing pants. It became obvious that the buttons and zippers were beyond the Mags ability to manipulate. Though everyone knew that this would change quickly, even if they had to tear off their ragged clothes. The Rangers figured that pants could only hold so much feces.
The four men continued to clear the building, and when Wilkins and Henderson climbed the stairs, they saw eight dead mags in the hallway leading to the office. The office door had been knocked off its hinges.
“Corp,” said Wilkins into his squad radio, you’d better get up here. There’s dead Mags all over the place.”
“Roger, on the way.”
Stepping over the bodies, Henderson entered the store’s office. His nose was assaulted by that other nausea causing odor, that of decaying human flesh. Two more dead Mags lay directly in front of the dead man. He had been attacked by Mags carrying machetes and was literally cut into pieces. On the ground next to the body was a book. He picked it up and discovered that the book was a diary that began on the 5th of April and ended on the 8th.
“Hey, Corp,” shouted Wilkins, “where are you? I found a diary that the Ol
d Man will want to see.”
Among the gore, a .45 caliber pistol was found, but the only sign of a rifle were empty boxes of 7.62 ammo. When Henderson cleared the pistol, he found that the weapon was empty. It seemed pretty obvious that the two dead Mags in front of the man had eaten the last two rounds from the .45.
White and Wilkins met at the office door where the diary and pistol were passed to White.
“Hey, Sarge,” said White into his Squad radio. “The store is clear. Wilkins found a diary that should probably be sent up the chain to the Captain.”
“Roger, Corporal, hang on to them, we’ll meet up with you in about two minutes, Rodriguez and his crew just finished up rescuing two survivors.”
“Good deal,” replied White, “see ya’ in two.”
The diary was then passed up the line until it finally reached General Merritt.
“General,” said, Lt Colonel Brad Pierce, the Battalion Commander of the team who found the book, “this morning a fire team in the Walmart Plaza came across a diary. I think you should read it, sir. It only covers three days, but, well, you’ll see.”
“Thank you, Brad, is it important enough to read right now?”
“Yes, sir, it is. That’s why I brought it to you personally.”
Lt Colonel Pierce returned to his battalion, and General Merritt began reading about the final three days of a man killed by Mags.
5 April to 8 April 2118
From the diary of William Bell
April 5, 2118. I awoke this morning to the sound of a woman screaming. The sounds came from the street just in front of my home. After jumping out of bed and throwing on a pair of jeans, I reached into the drawer beside my bed and grabbed my pistol. Then, rushing barefoot down the stairs to the front room window, I saw a monster standing over a woman. She lay unmoving on the wet concrete. The monster had just hit her with an aluminum baseball bat. Without thinking things through I opened the door and rushed outside to try to help the downed woman.
I screamed at the monster… I know… what was I thinking, right? Anyway, I just blindly reacted. I guess it’s true, once a Marine, always a Marine, and time doesn’t change that- Semper Fi.
The damned thing turned toward me and howled, then raised the bat, and with amazing speed, it charged across my now weed infested lawn. Again, without thinking, I just instinctively raised my hand and fired. The pistol rocked back in my hand, momentarily obscuring my vision of this demented thing. It was so close that the seventeen inches of flame from the barrel scorched his face. The .45 caliber round had entered the chest, of whatever this thing was. It lay writhing on the ground, still alive. As I looked down at it, I could only see an all-consuming hatred. Seeing that I knew what this beast needed was one more ounce of lead. It only took a second for me to place that ounce of lead right in the middle of all that murderous hatred. My bullet entered the misshapen forehead, and the damned thing finally stopped moving.
I then ran to the woman and discovered that her skull had been crushed by the blow, or blows, from the monster’s bat. I ran back to inspect the creature, one more time. It was naked from the waist down and wearing an ‘I’m with stupid’ tee-shirt. It was easy to tell this thing was a male because of its, well, you know. The damned thing was hung like a well rope. The creature had one head, two arms, and two legs, but the similarity to man, at least in my opinion, ended there.
This Mag thing looked incredibly strong with muscles everywhere. Wait, that’s not exactly right. It didn’t look like a weightlifter, it was just, you know, really strong looking. From the body odor and poop stains, it was obvious that hygiene was not at the top of its list of priorities. The one thing about this monstrosity that I still see in my mind’s eye were the creature’s eyes, the orbitals were squared off rectangles. That fact sits in my memory more than just about anything else. I don’t really know why, but those square eyes just creeped me out.
I looked up at the cloud-laden sky, and just at that moment, there came a downpour. I went back inside my house and tried to figure out what the hell was going on, I mean, monsters, ya’ know?
Turning on the TV only produced static, so I grabbed my Samsung phone and tried the local radio station that carried talk radio. It was a Conelrad station that was playing a continuous loop, telling everyone to arm themselves because monsters, called Mags, were attacking anyone they came into contact with.
Oh, great, I had survived the sickness that ravaged through town. I lost my wife and nine-year-old son. Both dying early in the plague days. I spent the week following their deaths crying over my loss and burying them in the backyard. I didn’t know what else to do.
Why did they get so sick, that death was their only salvation, while I barely even had the sniffles and some mild congestion? Oh, I also had a pretty bad headache for about a day.
I tried so hard to help my wife and child, but nothing I did made any difference at all. Their deaths came on the twelfth of March. I finally cried myself out on the first of April
My wife and I had a fairly well-stocked food and water supply in the basement, so I felt no desire to venture out of the house. I just sat and cried.
The phones still seemed to be working, well, until around the 15th of March, but no one ever answered, so I continued to sit, cry, and lament my loss in one seemingly never-ending pity party. Whoever reads this should not be judgmental, if you are, well...
Back then I had no idea of the true extent of the impact of this Super-Flu on the world. At that point, I thought that I was the only one to have suffered such a tragedy.
So, I sat, cried, ate, slept, bathed with the rain’s runoff into our rain barrels, and just plain felt so sorry for myself that I decided to just wait to die. Maybe then I could be reunited with my family. I even considered suicide, but my Faith told me that I could never end up in the same place as my wife and son if I took that tack. So, I sat and waited for my end. It didn’t occur to me, back then, that my plan to just wait for death actually was a form of suicide. I know, bizarre, right?
Anyway, back to the 5th of April. Going back into my home I sat and watched out the window. I saw a few more of these so-called Mags wandering around. They didn’t seem to even notice the downpour of rain. Maybe that’s how they showered. I don’t know, but it could be.
Most were dressed either in pajama tops or tee-shirts. I thought that it was odd that they were naked from the waist down. Watching these monsters stroll around my street like they owned it, pissed me off, but when I saw one carrying a dead dog by the hind leg, I got really pissed. I decided right then and there that I would make it my mission to start taking my street back from these vile things. This is my street, and no monsters are going to take it away from me.
I opened my gun safe and took out my scoped and silenced Mustang mini-24 and all of the 7.62 ammo up to the bedroom and set up a sniper’s nest. I’m a pretty good shot, no sniper superstar, but pretty good and from this range of only about seventy-five feet, well, how could I miss.
Over the next twenty-four hours, I knocked off every one of these Mag things that came down the street. Once nine were dead, no more showed up. I guess they got the message, or maybe that was simply all there were on our block. In some, okay I admit, bizarre way, this was cathartic for me, then again maybe it was revenge for my Solange and Christopher, or maybe boredom, hell, I don’t know, or care about much of anything right now.
With no more targets of opportunity on my street, I decided to go to my store to resume my revenge mission. I loaded up my car strapped on my .45 and left for a more target-rich environment. I figured that maybe there would be more of these creatures at the Walmart, so off I went. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did, and I was right.
-
6 April to 8 April 2118
From the diary of William Bell
April 6, 2118. The Walmart had become a veritable nest of Mags, and I took a great, yet sadistic, pleasure in killing these beasts.
My office has a window that faces th
e right-side door to Walmart. This became my new sniper's nest. The range was now out to about two hundred yards, still well within range of my Mustang 24.
My goal is for one shot-one kill. Okay, I guess I’m not really as good as I had hoped because, so far, I’m averaging around 1.5 shots per kill. That’s not bad, but my ammo is limited to only two more boxes of 7.62 for my Mustang mini-24. If I can kill all the Mags in the Walmart, then I can restock. If not, then I hope they don’t find me so I can go elsewhere to find more ammo.
The rain of the 5th had moved on and today dawned crisp and clear. The dust had been washed from the air, which brought a magnificent, crystal-clear morning.
The first Mags began to appear right after sun-up. Once I began firing, they began to scatter. I didn’t get them all this morning, but I did get quite a few. It didn’t take long for me to realize that there were a lot more monsters than I had ammunition.
Today I shot, napped, ate when the targets stopped presenting themselves; just another day at the office, haha. I’m losing it, I know, and the best part is that I just don’t give a rat’s ass. I’ll keep killing them until they find and kill me.
Late this afternoon I noticed that the Mags have stopped using the front door. Apparently, they have found another way out and have begun searching for me.
It’s dark now, and the Mags have settled in for the night…I hope. I’ve seen them going in, so I figure they don’t like being out in the dark. It’s funny in a warped sort of way, here I am killing these monsters, yet they may have saved me by giving me a new purpose in life. At first, I thought my street was the issue, but now I realize that these things are everywhere. My street is really the whole country, and I will continue to do what I can to preserve my street, my country.”
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6 April to 8 April 2118
From the diary of William Bell
