by Jeff DeMarco
Hawk waited with Lieutenant Alexander. “About time you showed up!”
“I need your people.” Colby hopped out of the Humvee, spread out a map. “Here’s us currently.” He traced his finger along the south border, just above Rogers lane. The east border, beside I-44. North, along Macomb road, transitioning to the west border on Sheridan road. “I want to make a 1 mile by 1 mile paddock…”
“Damn, Sir.” Hawk smiled. “They’re not cows.”
“Paddock, Op Area… Whatever.” Colby rolled his eyes. “We’ll make a central cordon around the neighborhood there,” He pointed to a spot above the northern border. “Maybe put 5-10 civilians per house, an outer cordon around the farmable land.”
Hawk raised his eyebrow. “And pull in security every night to the inner cordon?”
Colby nodded and smiled. “Keep manning at a minimum… make a new paddock once a week or so.”
“Ballsy move, Sir.” He rubbed at his chin. “Tryin’ to get promoted?”
Colby laughed. “Trying to keep Major Eckert from getting us all killed.”
Hawk raised an eyebrow. “Fair… Probably get the stink out of the battery area, too. Think you can handle that, LT?”
“Um…” Lieutenant Alexander’s eyes widened. “… Sure.”
Colby smiled. “Don’t sound too confident, LT.”
CHAPTER 36
The phone rang; a first since the satellite network reactivated. Julie stared down at it, seated in the Post General’s office, a position she had since relinquished him of. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hello Julie.” She could sense the smile in the man’s voice, soothing and masculine.
“Who is this?”
“I saw you there, Julie. In Lieutenant Vega’s eyes, watching them. You want him, don’t you?”
“I…” Her mind raced with possibilities.
“You don’t need to be honest with me, Julie, but be honest with yourself. You’ve chased him… chased him away.”
“How do you know this?” She looked around the office, out the window. “What are you?”
“Like the others. The ones Jacob told you about. But unlike the others, we’re not slaves to the humans, are we?”
“No.” Her voice steady with understanding.
“I can give you what you want, Julie. Will require some action on your part.”
“Anything,” she whispered.
“Your competition; without Brie by his side, he’ll be doing the chasing, but you must strike at the heart of her.”
She looked around the office once more. “How?”
“Home is where the heart is, Julie.”
Her neck tightened; a signal streamed in through her ear. Silence. The understanding of her task.
“Goodbye, Julie. We’ll talk again real soon.”
“You nervous, LT.” Colby shook the top of Alexander’s helmet. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I just…” Her breathing shallow and rapid. “Ever since Fort Hood, I haven’t been the same.”
He looked at her. “You know what Captain Freeman told me before he left?”
She looked back, now deliberately breathing deep, she shook her head.
“Told me to watch over his Battery, told me about everyone – You lowly Lieutenants, First Sergeant, all the way down to every single private… Wanna know what he said about you?”
She breathed deep, in and out, in and out.
“You’re not the most experienced or the most knowledgeable.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But you’re the most capable… Don’t sell yourself short. You can do this.” He watched the platoon start to assemble in front of them and stood. “Put your game face on. It’s time.”
She stood behind him, one final deep breath, her face now expressionless. “Thank you for being here, I know you’re all tired.” She looked at the blank faces listening, wishing for some sort of reprieve, natural disaster or the like. “Our task is to clear Academic heights neighborhood, establish security and create an outer cordon for incoming personnel.” She looked back to Captain Colby.
He nodded an unsaid, ‘you’re doin’ fine.’
“Standard road march formation, Start point Macomb road, Release point Randolph road. Sergeant First Class Keenan will direct traffic, we’ll break off into squads, 1st squad, split up the two west rows of houses, 2nd squad, the next two rows, 3rd squad, center two rows, 4th squad between center and east, Headquarters squad, east two rows, 10 houses per row. Standards as per usual, frequencies, order of march. Our casualty collection point is at the RP… Questions?”
Sergent Keenan leaned in and whispered, “You sure you’re good clearing houses, Ma’am?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Alright… Move out!”
“Oh Mr. Nguyen.” Mrs. Nguyen hung on the doorframe, her body exposed in a sheer, white negligee. “Brie’s off on a mission, care for a little… afternoon delight?” She winked at him.
Commander Nguyen looked down at his watch, then bit down on his knuckle. “Got 15 minutes before I need to be back.”
Her eyes widened. “C’mon!” A break in her seductive façade, as she grabbed his wrist and hustled him into the bedroom. “Quick, take your pants off.”
He smiled. “Aye aye, ma’am.” They hopped in bed; he kissed her deep and long; growing ravenous in the passing moments.
She shoved him onto his back, straddling him, pinning him to the bed; her blonde hair cascading around his face. “I’ve been waiting all day for this,” she whispered in his ear. She kissed him again; a sense of something off, she looked into his eyes – shifting. “You ok?”
“I’m fine, I just…” He whipped his head around, as if shaking off a sudden fugue. “Keep going.” He flipped her over, grinding himself into her. His fingers traced the lines of her cheek, his lips – the contours of her breasts. The tips of his fingers skimmed delicately to the valley of her neck.
Her back arched in ecstasy, moaning.
His thumb passed over her throat, feeling the breath escape her; her every move, her life, all in his hands. His eyes widened, fingers clenched. Her lungs sputtered, trying to draw breath; staring into his eyes as if his consciousness were absent his body. His grip tightened further, the blood cut off to her brain, light fading slowly towards nightmarish black.
She thrashed at the sheets, at his absent stare; her terror-filled eyes piercing into this man who was no longer her husband. He pressed in with his body, his whole weight fixed on her throat, until the thrashing stopped and she was quiet.
He blinked once, then again. “Honey?” He tapped gently on her cheek, manipulating her chin left and right with his hand. “Honey?” His words panicked as he bent down, listened for breath from her open mouth. He looked around the room, his mind troubled at the lapse of time; a growing dread at his lack of recollection. He grabbed her shoulders. “Wake up,” as he shook her, then ran his knuckles hard against her sternum to jar her awake.
“Oh God!” he dragged his nails against the sides of his scalp, his mind a flurry of damning thoughts. He leapt from the bed, half clothed and panicked; he dragged her dead weight down onto the floor, started chest compressions and breaths, her lips rapidly turning purple. Exhausted, adrenaline and fear and training drove him past breaking.
Her ribs broken and skin cold, apparent that she would never return to him. He lifted her back onto the bed, then slumped into a corner of the bedroom, huddled in pain; the events of the last hour, their life together, the bruises on her throat matching his own hand, ran on a continuous loop through his mind.
“What have you done?” Brie whispered, walking slowly into the bedroom.
The room was dim from evening light now. Commander Nguyen sat there in the corner, paralyzed of self-loathing and the unknown, of anger and confusion.
She crept towards the bed, covered her adoptive mother with the white bedsheet and wept into her chest. She held her face, kissed her forehead and cheeks, wrapped her arms tight around her body, her eyes w
andering to the ligature marks around her neck.
She turned to Commander Nguyen, sulking in the corner. “You.” Her voice filled with an unholy rage, her arm raised – his body with it.
“I didn’t-“
She drew her off-arm back, ripping his tongue from his mouth.
Blood flowed down his chin, onto his chest; a guttural wail as his limbs bowed outward, a loud snapping as multiple jagged fractures splintered in a wave throughout his body. His arms and legs inflating – blood vessels bursting within him.
He stared at her in terror, his head ripping back and forth in agony, his eyes begging her to cease.
Her eyes widened at the carnage, her arms slacked – dropping him to the carpet, his gelatinous legs bending into unnatural form, propping him upright. Skin held his insides together, stretched taut, separated like sacs, pressed out by the viscous fluid that was his innards. His skin had torn in places, the effluence now spilling out, a wide puddle forming under him.
He sat there, unable to move, unable to speak but for a pleading, pathetic whimper in his throat - begging her to end him.
She looked back at her mother, still and draped in white. Brie closed her eyes; fingers circled and clenched – his chest bowed out; the pressure of his heart pressing against his fractured ribcage, burst.
Brie collapsed to the floor, her hands wrung against her forehead and trembling, like a crown of anguish; a withdrawn stare into nothing, the image of her mother, cloaked in white, burned into her mind.
Hours later, Lieutenant Vega knocked on the door, the windows black and silent. Brie crawled to her knees, bracing herself on the bed. She walked from the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
“You look like hell, Brie.” Vega edged into the opening in the door. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re dead,” she whispered, making no attempt to hide the pain from her face.
Vega pushed inside the door, flipping on the headlamp attached to his helmet. “Sir!” he called out into the blackness.
She slumped down on the couch while he searched the house – A sound of retching from the bedroom, accompanied by the buzzing of flies now bathing in the pestilent filth. He emerged, wiping the vomit from his mouth. “He killed her?”
“And I killed him.”
He pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit a candle at the center of the coffee table; his face drawn in shock. “Known him a long time.” He slumped down on the chair across from her. “Never imagine him doing something like that.”
“She was like a mother to me.” Long tears glistened in candlelight. “She was a mother to me.”
He bit his lip, drawing inward. “I was-“
“I know… you think about her often.”
“I don’t blame you Brie. If I had the chance to end the bastard that killed my mother, I would.” He pulled the radio clipped to his shoulder. “But, I need to call this in.” He keyed the hand mic. “Serpent X-ray, this is Serpent 3 Alpha”
“Go ahead, 3 Alpha,” Squelched back.
“No.” She stood and blew the light out. “I’ll go in myself.”
He pursed his lips, thinking a moment. “Disregard, X-Ray. I’ll be back shortly.”
The radio squelched back static. His muscles tightened at the noise, like nails against a chalkboard.
She started for the door. “You coming?”
He turned to her, his eyes piercing through the darkness. “What if there was a way for you to never feel like this again?”
She stared back, fixed on the blackened jade.
He stood, took her hand. “… and all you’d have to do was ask.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “That is what I want.”
His eyes darkened, blacker than black; absorbing the dim moonlight in a swirling mist of shadow upon nightfall.
She felt a wave pierce through her core; driving her to her knees in a numb reverence - anesthetic to the seething pain of her existence.
He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped on either side of her face, feeling the sweet release of agony, feeling the hunger infect her. “A gift…” he whispered. “… is meant to be shared.”
CHAPTER 37
The needle punctured the port on the IV line; Dr. Bariac’s hands shook as he depressed the plunger. Saline dripped slowly, pushing the concoction further into the hunter’s vein. His voice anxious, he whispered, “If this doesn’t work-“
“We’ll keep trying,” Gloria whispered back.
The creature laid fully awake, strapped down to the metal table by a dozen heavy straps tightened around its body to keep it from thrashing. A crowd waited in the wings, Taylor and Ellen, Officers and doctors, there to witness the closest thing to a miracle as they had ever seen; The prospect of one anyhow.
Its head secured by a harness strapped to the table, pinned down with more straps across its body. It wriggled, snapping its jaws with a loud ‘CLACK.’
“Ellen,” Gloria yelled over the noise. “Mind helping me, love?” She wrapped a large surgical rod in white gauze and positioned herself on one side of the creature.
Ellen walked forward with Taylor. He watched it with a sort of amazement. He had never seen one so… helpless, before. Ellen walked around to the other side and stuffed the rod between its jaws, securing it to either side of the table with duct tape.
A fury in its eyes as its teeth clamped down onto metal. It eyed the two, hints of fear, vulnerability, dread all shone through. It looked down at the boy through its peripheral, now touching its arm, feeling the contours of its fingers, its razor like talons. The hunter’s eyes closed, as if it enjoyed Taylors touch. Its fingers clenched slowly, gently, then ripped up, slicing through a strap.
Taylor lunged for the hand, his grip missed. The creature’s fingers caught the rail of Gloria’s chair, throwing her across the room. Its hand contorted, upwards on its body slicing through another strap. It reached out, gripping Taylor around the face, digging its nail through his cheek and into his mouth.
Pain shot through Taylors face as the creature held him there, its arm wrapped partly around his face. He held his hands up, keeping the others at bay.
The creature’s eyes were open now, staring down the rest of the room, the boy as his captive.
First Sergeant Hawk and Captain Colby pressed in, their weapons drawn. Taylor shook his hands, urging for calm as his eyes closed.
The talons pulled slowly, painfully from his face, the creatures arm forced out by an unseen force. It nestled back beside its body.
Major Eckert pulled his sidearm from its holster, as Hawk and Colby dove for the arm, securing it with more straps, padded cuffs.
Major Eckert put the pistol against the creature’s head.
“No!” Blood spurted from Taylors face as he yelled.
Eckert looked down at Taylor, a confused expression.
“It’s in its nature,” Taylor said.
He looked back at the creature. “That’s why it needs to die,” Eckert whispered, as he cocked the hammer back.
Taylor put his hand on the weapon. “And helping is in mine,” he whispered, pushing the barrel away from the creature’s head.
Eckert looked as though he wanted to pistol whip the boy; reluctantly holstered his weapon.
“We’ve all had enough excitement for tonight.” Dr. Bariac helped Gloria back into her chair. “Gestation is at least six hours. I don’t anticipate any measurable change for at least three.”
Eckert looked down at Taylor, then the creature. “We’ll leave an armed-“
“I assure you, Major” Dr. Bariac said. “That won’t be necessary.”
His eyes narrowed on the Doctor, then eyed the rest of the room, now staring at him.
“We’ll have a guard,” Colby said. “Outside the room.”
Eckert shot everyone a final look of anger, then walked from the room.
Gloria waited till the door closed behind him. “Someone really ought to shoot him, yea?”
CHAPTER 38
�
��You seem tense,” Faye crept around the picnic blanket, started rubbing Gary’s shoulders. “Everything alright?”
“Ha,” Eckert shook his head in. “Where have you been? Hasn’t been alright in months.”
Her brow creased, remembering the same condescending tone. “I was just asking…”
“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “It’s just hard, having all these people coming to me, looking for guidance.”
She smiled, her fingers expertly massaging along his spine. “Must be tough, all that responsibility.”
“It’s worth asking.” He spun around. “You don’t think my new policies go too far, do you?”
She smiled in earnest. “You’re doing good things… What you do to support the least of us, those too old or sick to work, making things equal. Says a lot about you.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Who’s not working?” A plan spun quickly in his mind. “Last time I checked, everyone is assigned a job.”
“Not everyone reports to work.” Her tone seemingly unaware to his concern. “I’d say about half.”
His teeth grit together, as he fought the impulse of rage. “We’ll have to… fix that.”
Taylor rose in the midnight chill. He sprang from his cot, freezing; his bladder full. He bundled quickly, dashing out to the port-a-potty.
“Hey.” A Soldier grabbed him. “Where you think you’re going?”
“Gotta pee.” He wrenched from his grasp, as two others walked up.
“Little baby says he has to potty.” The Soldier shoved him in the huddle.
“Gonna pee your pants?” another Soldier said; the three laughing at him.
“Cut it out,” Taylor yelled, then ducked his shoulder and pressed outside of them. He ran for a blue port-a-potty, jiggled the handle – locked. “Come on!” he whispered, then lined up to a nearby bush. As he passed, a rustling inside the box, a groaning. He felt comically sorry for the poor guy inside.
