by C C Sommerly
“I can’t let you help him. There’s nothing any of us can do. The cleanup crew will be here shortly,” said Ruthie, my Purple Princess.
What the hell! She thought I’d just lay here, restrained by her while someone bled out? Hell no, that was so not happening. I slammed my forehead into her nose, blood spraying. As she cupped her injured face and giving me the freedom to aid the fallen soldier. As I raced towards the soldier, a shot rang out. I turned back to see Ruthie with the gun in her hand.
Stalking back to her, I couldn’t contain my rant “why would you do that? Were you gonna shoot me for helping him? You are seriously messed up.”
Shaking her head, “I saved your life.”
“No, you took a life by doing nothing to help him.”
A shrill scream interrupted our shouting match.
“Mason, oh god, Mason,” cried Mallory, the sweet innkeeper that I met my first night runs onto the course stopping several feet from the downed man. Tears streamed down her face as she drops to her knees. One of the inhabitants, that I hadn’t met, ran and embraced her as she rocks in his arms. A knife-like pain twisted in my gut as I turned back to Ruthie.
“Teagan, Mason is a Demented now. Mallory is his sister. They are extremely close, but she is older and isn’t a part of the experiment. She only came here to be with him.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the broken remainders of him. “How can that be? He looks normal to me aside from the blood and brokenness.”
She stepped closer to me, blocking my view of him. “He isn’t. He was one of the hybrids, who refused to be activated. He went AWOL a few weeks ago.”
She pulled her pistol out of the holster, “Teagan, stand down, or this time I will shoot you, I can’t risk having another hybrid infected and you would be a menace as a Demented. Besides, the containment team will be here soon. Let’s walk to the armory. It’s time you were armed,” said Ruthie.
Seething, I moved away, but I refused to spend any more time with her. I was so raving mad that I didn’t know what to do. None of the other hybrids would meet my eyes — not that I expected them to since this was obviously standard around here. For not the first time, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into at The Underground. I clasped my hands tightly behind me to prevent myself from smacking the crap out of Ruthie.
Merritt came up and stood between us, a buffer I was grateful for. If she thought that taking me to the armory would distract me from her epic nastiness, then she was sorely mistaken. Although, I was feeling rather uncomfortable in my sand-filled, wet clothes that were chaffing me from the sand. I’d really prefer getting cleaned up before handing any weapons. And, Merritt seemed to realize this very thing.
“Jesus, Teagan, we can’t go to the armory with you covered in filth. Sherill, our armory lead and sometimes weapons’ master, would have my head. No one goes into her domain and touches anything looking like you do. She makes us clean all weapons with q-tips and she inspects them with white gloves. She finds any speck of grease or ammunition residue,” said Merritt.
“Guess, I better stay on her good side then.”
“Ruthie, I can take Teagan to the armory. You two can use some time apart to cool off.”
She left in a huff, “Teagan, let me show you the way back to the inn. You probably aren’t anywhere close to knowing the layout of The Underground.”
No, I most definitely didn’t have it down and while I still wanted to tear out Ruthie’s throat, his consideration was appreciation. It was more consideration than I got at the Elite Guard. And, I liked the idea of making him wait. That seemed to be a theme of ours — one that I was quite okay with continuing. He deserved any discomfort that I could dish out.
It took me only 20 minutes to make myself presentable. I would be quicker if that sand wasn’t everywhere and I mean everywhere. I need something more substantial than the dagger I was given before coming here also got my ass moving. The dagger is decent and all, but not the same as a gun or sword. I needed to level the playing field if I was stuck day in and day out with these freaks, who had some sort of mutant-like superpowers. I had no way of knowing how many people didn’t activate. And, there was always the Demented and demon threat, especially now that I made an enemy of the Demon Delegate. I was officially “persona non grata” with the demon populace and humans that were demon sympathizers. Having a firearm would grant me some measure of security and would at least make me feel safer with so many unknowns.
I found Merritt pacing outside my room. Leaving the inn, we walk through the circular paths that ran in a pattern of rings around the cavern — although calling it that was like saying the sun was hot, it just didn’t come close to describing it. As we went deeper into the earth, the temperature dropped, which helped me clear my head some.
Merritt probably had answers that I desperately needed. Not that anything he could tell me would justify leaving that hybrid bloody and dying. I couldn’t work for someone I didn’t trust. He and my squad mates would literally have my life in their hands. If I couldn’t trust them to have my back, then I didn’t want them. The thought of being a part of this group, even temporarily turned my stomach. I lost my self-respect from the court martial, but there was a code: no man left behind, and the hybrids broke that code.
Before I could ask a single question, he started talking. He said, “That thing was the beginning of a Demented. It’s something most people haven’t seen or would even imagine was out there. Because the world doesn’t know about hybrids and the activation process, they don’t know that there is a sort of metamorphosis that occurs. What you saw was Mason’s body amid that change. The blood and broken bones were his body destroying itself from the inside out. The final stage is the Demented you are familiar with.”
Shivers raced up my spine. That was horrifying and it reminded me of the discussion the Boss had with me earlier.
“Couldn’t you force him to activate and somehow halt the process or remove whatever was in him?”
“It’s not possible. Once the metamorphosis starts, it’s irreversible. None of our scientist or doctors know why. Once, the hybrid hits the “golden age” of twenty-five, it’s over. Mason still would have died if Ruthie hadn’t shot him.”
Looking over at me, he had a crease in between his eyes and a disapproving scowl.
“Regardless of what killed him, we don’t force anyone to go through the activation. Everyone here gets a choice since none of us got a choice to be a part of the hybrid experiment, but we at least let you decide whether you want to continue the change by activating the demon DNA.”
They went through all this trouble to bring me here and now they would let me become like that thing Mason turned into. Merritt might say that I had a choice, but there really wasn’t a choice if I wanted to live.
This secret “non-military” yet still military group touted themselves as voluntary and espousing freedom of choice. What Merritt was implying is that they were all a bunch of soft and sappy people, who believed in free will and would let someone sign their own death certificate. Right. This was triggering my bullshit meter hard.
“You all just let people that don’t activate run wild? If what you say is true, then he was not even a person anymore. And, if he was turning into a Demented, wouldn’t that mean he has no rational thought? He obviously knew his way home. Or, are you telling me that this guy just randomly reappeared after all this time? Something isn’t making sense Merritt and I have no reason to trust any of you.”
“I get that, and I don’t expect you to trust me or any of us but let me finish explaining what you saw. Mason was missing for 13 days. During our last patrol, he was taken. And, since you had the in brief and the ‘rules discussion,’ I know that the Boss explained our rule on AWOL.”
“He wasn’t AWOL. You said he was taken, so how is that absent without leave? Abduction doesn’t mean someone went willingly. Your definition of AWOL is seriously skewed, you know, that right?”
Taking a deep breat
h, he continued, “We have a very liberal definition of AWOL here and that’s out of necessity. Anyone that leaves from a mission, either on their own accord or not, we consider them AWOL.”
This didn’t sound right. In the military, we had military code of conduct that all soldiers adhered to Marine Corps-wide, which is how I was tried and punished under. But this whole AWOL thing went against everything I knew and was raised to believe in. I’d never left anyone behind or killed a fellow soldier.
“So, while this sounds harsh, and I know it does, it’s not without purpose. This leads to the AWOL rule. There are some changes in demon and Demented behavior lately. Soldiers have gone missing from patrol. Others left on their own because they chose not to activate. And, when they return, they are like Mason.”
With a sigh, he continued, “That isn’t all. We have this issue with the Demented, but now there is another issue to add to it. The soldiers we lost were never returned. And if they return, they aren’t what they were. Had you touched that solider it would have infected you with the same taint he carries.”
“But –”
“No, don’t interrupt. Hear me out. What the demons are doing is infecting the soldiers. And that’s why we shoot AWOL soldiers upon sight. They are the walking dead and we can’t have the infection spread.”
Vomit pooled up in my throat — scarily close to a release. Get it together Teagan. You were raised to fight. This is just a kink in the war.
“So, Teagan, had you touched Mason, you would be infected and killed.”
Merritt saved my life. One of my first days here and it was almost my last. I wanted to be back in the Elite Guard, where things were hard, but predictable. The enemy was known. Our patrols consisted of tracking Demented and shooting them on-the-spot. They would lurch about in mindless patterns and while they gravitated towards animals or people. There was never anything vicious or combative about their behavior. What Merritt was describing sounded more like calculated warfare and the incorporation of strategy worried me because it implied intelligence. A smarter enemy just made it more dangerous. And demons were dangerous enough. Could they have found a way to control the Demented?
I ignored the questioning looks Merritt tossed my way. My thoughts were occupied by what he had told me. There were so many things wrong with the whole situation. They were wrong to not tell the public about this. It made them sitting ducks because they didn’t know about the threat and could so easily be turned. There were enough stories about people fighting off Demented when one tried to eat their dog or cat. How easy would it be if the animals were covered in drool from the Demented to then carry that disease to the person? Why weren’t there more stories about that very thing happening with the increase in Demented?
“This doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t there more outbreaks of Demented?”
“I wondered when you’d get around to asking that. Well, that’s because of us.”
“Us?”
“Yes —- meaning me and the rest of the squad. I know the Boss mentioned that we respond to sightings of rogues and Demented and we either subdue or take them out. Well, our squad is only one of many. There are currently two squads deployed.”
“How has this been kept quiet? You can’t seriously tell me that no one has noticed some hybrid, super naturals or whatever you are capturing or battling these things.”
“So, back to how they are acting unusual, they are ambushing our squads. There is a sort of strategy they are using. We’ve taken to letting the squads roam in rural or otherwise unoccupied areas in the hopes of drawing out the Demented.”
“So, does that mean that I also get to be bait? That sounds even more enticing than everything else I’ve been told,” I said sarcasm lacing each word.
“We’re almost at the armory, let’s table this discussion for now.”
Chapter 20
I barely notice the walk to the armory, but once inside it, the smell of grease, weapons oil, and spent rounds greet me with the subtlety of a slap to the face. In the bunker-style, room, I meet Sherill, who welcomes me with a bone-crushing handshake and a hefty slap to my back. Her amber eyes hold mine. As she circles around me, I glance questioningly at Merritt.
“Let her do her thing, Teagan,” Merritt said.
She grabbed each of my hands and studies them before patting me down. Her gender saved her from my typical instant reaction — a slap for the fresh and unexpected physical action. It was more motion than I had seen in months.
“Sword. I’d say long sword by the way you hold yourself slightly forward as if counter-balancing for the weight of holding a blade.”
“How?”
“Not done just yet…And if I’m not mistaken, and I’m usually not, daggers or some other close-range weapon. You aren’t afraid of getting close to enemies and are probably quick enough to avoid injury when near your enemies. That right Teagan?”
I am thoroughly shocked and surprised. “You have me pegged. That was amazing. How did you do that?”
The older women let out a hearty chuckle. “When you’ve been at it as long as I have, you pick a few things up.”
I guess so, but her explanation seems a bit thin. Although, if she was familiar with swordsman, then they also must carry blades here at the armory. That was a relief. Most soldiers, especially the Elite Guard, prepared to go into skirmishes with guns blazing — literally. But guns were only as good as the amount of ammo you had, without it, they became clunky metal paper weights. A sword had no such limitation. You always had it ready to taste the enemy’s blood.
“Does this mean you can issue me a sword?”
“I can do better than that. Here, let’s go to the weapons’ room. I think you’ll be satisfied with our selection of blades.”
Satisfied? That didn’t even come remotely close to the bliss I felt at entering the spacious room teeming with blades, axes, maces, and other weaponry. This was my Zen place — give me a sharp and pointy thing any day. It was nearly distracting enough to make me forget about the talk with Merritt on the way here.
“Go to the far wall. Those will be the swords better balanced for your size,” said Sherill.
One blade caught my eye. It had an intricate pattern on the hilt that carried over onto the blade. Pure beauty. At the Elite Guard, I had a very capable blade, but the craftsmanship on this one was a thing of beauty and not something found nowadays. Someone painstakingly crafted it by hand. I was eager to get into the practice ring and try it out.
“May I?”
“Don’t let me stand between a sword and her master.”
I briefly paused at her odd choice of words, but the light hit the sword, beckoning me to more important things. Lifting the blade from its perch, I felt its balance and weight. After checking that Merritt and Sherrill weren’t in range, I took a few practice swipes. It was darn near perfect.
“Before you tear through here, take the sheath. And, I’ll show you the throwing knives and daggers. And, we can’t be forgetting your standard-issue gun, now can we? We want all of our squad members to have ready access to close-and long-ranging weapons.”
The military prescribed to the same philosophy, so hearing that it was the same here gave me a small measure of familiarity that was quickly overshadowed by a stabbing pain in my heart. This might be similar in small ways, but in more ways, it couldn’t be further from the military lifestyle I was used to. It strengthened my conviction to return to the Elite Guard as soon as I could. I hope Chester Maxwell was successful in overturning my sentence.
With a heavy heart, I strapped on the sheath and put away the sword, then went to collect my magazines of ammo and rifle. Sherrill also handed me two daggers that I strapped on. Between the daggers and swords, this would help my temporary duty here. For me, my blade was the closest thing to a best friend I had. It saw me through many trials and battles. Giving up my blade at the Elite Guard was nearly as difficult as being kick out of the Marines. Call me crazy, but a girl’s gotta have her passions. I�
�m not a shoes or purse kinda girl, give me a weapon any day and I’m in Heaven.
“Already slaying enemies, eh?”
I could feel a blush stain my cheeks, but still I was relieved that my heart ache hadn’t shown. I missed sword training with Gunny. He was one of the only Marines, who could challenge me. It was a toss-up which of us won our battles more often. We tended to end things in a draw.
“I don’t suppose there are any others on the squad that also favor the sword.”
At Merritt’s snicker, I blushed even more. He was a perv. Of course, I meant a metal sword and not the ones he had in mind.
“Yes, a few on the squad and in the other squads do. The Boss is pretty good for his age. He joins training on most days for some sparring. It’s the designated time each day to train on our weapons of choice. It’s winding down today, but you should be able to attend tomorrow.”
Although disappointed, at least I could take this beauty out for a trial soon. It would give me time to get my head into a better place. It never did you anything good to be distracted during a weapons bout and I wanted to show that Elite Guard were bad ass, even if I was no longer one. In my heart, I still felt that they were my family. If my sword was my best friend, my fellow soldiers on the Elite Guard were my brothers and sisters. We fought like siblings too.
Chapter 21
After the armory, I quickly stopped by my room to drop off my gun. A sword would be ample protection. Finding my way to the main dining facility was relatively easy since it was thankfully near the quads. I didn’t have to waste time wandering around the cave trying to find it. I still hadn’t gotten a good sense of the layout here. Rather than the curious and sometimes hostile faces I expected to see of the dining room inhabitants, I passed hallow-eyed and haunted people on the way — mourning the loss of one of their own. The playfulness and camaraderie that I previously saw over the past few days was absent. In its place, a stoic gloominess shrouded everyone, which sent shivers down my spine.
