New Fiction - "Outline" **COMPLETED 9/1 ** (Page 2 of 3)
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Chapter 11 Nashville, TN – Saturday, December 20, 2008 Snow was falling. Snow never fell in Tennessee in December. Ben could only remember one time ever that it had, and that was after Christmas. But now they had a foot and a half on the ground. There was a time, Ben remembered, where this would have closed down the town for several days – schools and businesses closed, multiple vehicle collisions, power outages, and other inconveniences. He longed for those same things to once again be an inconvenience. The TM had completed training. They functioned well as a unit. Even the prisoners they had taken on Thanksgiving had integrated and were getting up to speed. Once they realized that the best course was to work together, the former assailants found themselves being productive team members. For security purposes, no weapons were allowed for them for the fist month… and afterthat on a case by case basis. Ben had sent Sarah, Greg and three others on a recon mission to observe a know group of the Biters. This particular group was rather large in number – over two hundred individuals from previous reports. They lived on the edge of a state park several miles from HHQ. Taje and Ben agreed that the more information they could gather, the more prepared they could be for any future contact. Information was vital. Taje was getting weekly reports from what remained of military brass throughout the nation. Short wave radio had been the primary method of communication all over. As part of his most recent information packet, he had discovered that there had been an additional shipment of the vaccination sent to them that never arrived. Last radio communication was indicated to be just west of Chattanooga. It had been a week since last contact. The drivers in the convoy were equipped with CB communication, but Taje’s men had been monitoring the channels and had received no contact. Taje and Ben were meeting on a top floor room – overlooking what remained of the city. They were both in awe of the early snow. Had to be the comet, Ben surmised. Taje agreed that this was the most likely explanation. They continued to for the recovery of the lost convoy. Plans included contingency for Biter attacksor living renegades. They had to cover all possibilities, and that was what worried them both. It was far easier to plan for a known contingency than for an unknown. “Look, why don’t we send a small, mobile, highly skilled unit to go take a look. Keep a backup at a short distance and get one or two people in there to be our eyes. Once we know what we are up against, it will be much easier to prepare. Besides, we owe it to the men we will be sending in to give them as much advanced notice as possible as to what they are walking into.” Ben reasoned. “You are right. The only problem is who do we send?” Taje responded. “We could get Greg and Sarah to go. We have none better than them.” “Yes, but there will be the obvious strain with that pair due to Sharon.” Taje said. “ I know, but they need to put those petty differences aside. Sharon just worries too much because she’s expecting. They all need to grow up and do their duty.” “But the thing is that it’s not just that simple. If they were soldiers, we could just give the order. But they are not regular military – they are militia.” “I know. There’s got to be some way to counteract that.” Ben said. “Why don’t you bring Greg and Sharon in here together to announce the plan. Get their input, then follow with an obvious promise…” Taje started. “What ‘obvious promise’ could we offer?” Ben was curious. “The fact that Greg *has* to help us – he’s one of the top officers. But at the same time, he will want to be there for the birth of his baby – so we as rational and caring commanders have already earmarked the last month or so before the baby is due all the way through six weeks or so after the baby is born for him to be… excused.” Taje said. It made sense. A lot of sense. “What if Sharon still doesn’t go for it?” “Then we tell her it is Greg’s decision. Because it is. We just wanted to offer her the opportunity to cooperate. That’s something she’s doing less and less these days.” Taje said what had been on Ben’s mind. “I’m glad you said that – I’ve been thinking it for a while now. I’m getting sick of the princess attitude. In all fairness, Sharon’s become not too unlike Liz was. That would be counterproductive – for Greg, for the baby, for the rest of us, as well.” Ben said. “The sad fact is that we must also operate efficiently, as well as compassionately. It is a requirement that all who live here need to pull their weight. Dissention is the biggest way somebody can fail to do that. If somebody is not on board with playing by the few rules we do enforce here – even if it is just refusal to help or such as that – that individual needs to be culled from the group. It’s cold. It’s unfortunate. But it is a fact in the current world we’re living in.” Taje wore a solemn expression as he spoke. Ben knew he would never throw these words around lightly. “Do you really think you’ll have to make Sharon leave?” Ben realized the likely grave consequences that would bring. “It’s a possibility we must be prepared for. I hate to even think about it – but the longer we run this place like this, the more likely it is that somebody will eventually have to go – be it Sharon or another person.” Taje set his jaw. It hurt him to talk about these topics, but they were tactically necessary to have made preparations for. “What would happen to someone that got… kicked out?” Ben asked. “I have thought about it a little. I hope we never have to. The fact is, I couldn’t just throw anybody out ‘on their ear’ so to speak. We would make sure that we selected a place for them and escorted them to that area. Naturally it would be a cleared area. Also, we would of course allow them to keep as much provisions as they could carry in a vehicle. And that includes weaponry. These are just simple necessities nowadays.” Ben nodded. He could agree with that. He prayed it would necer come, but he set himself for the possibility that it might. ***** Greg sat motionless in the tree. He was about 15 feet off the ground. He watched through his scope as Sarah advanced her position. In her Ghilie suit, Sarah blended into the snow-covered environment well. She looked like a pile of brush, covered in snow. Occasionally she would move a foot or two. Never enough to draw attention, but enough so that she could get where she was going in a reasonable time. They were all armed, but had a strict standing order not to fire unless Greg gave the OK. Their mission was not to eliminate the enemy, but to observe the behaviors. This data could prove vital later. They had been out in the woods for several days. The data they had uncovered was as astounding as any of them could have imagined. The large group was composed of several sub-groups. It was almost like some of the individuals could almost remember something of organization. The hierarchy was just as they had seen before – more powerful males led and the females and smaller or weaker males followed and took their place. A pecking order was well established through near constant challenges, posturing, and the occasional coming to blows. Fights were mostly affairs of shoving and pulling and generally trying to knok the other down. Once dwned, most challengers ceded the match and backed off. The unusual was becoming ordinary to the scout group. In the past days, they had observed some mating behavior in the Biters. .Only the dominant male would participate. The youger, healthier females were the only ones of their gender to participate. It was really a survival of the fittest situation. Smaller males who tried to approach fertile females were chased off – often violently by the alpha-males. The breeding itself was truly animalistic. All traces of human behavior were gone entirely. But the gestation periodwhat astounded them. Greg had noticed that one particular female had exhibited a ‘baby bump’ the day after breeding. Initially dismissing it, he took note of several other females that he could identify readily. Surely as he was standing there the second day, they had grown the bump as well. After this observation, Greg decided to keep the group there longer. This was absolutely urgent information. They were dealing with what was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely new species. Some of the females carried around young. And this was the most disturbing of all things they had seen. The young were not like babies. They growled and hissed much like an adult might have. But they looked different. They looked… horrible. No, horrible was not a strong enough word. They were abominations. These young truly were ‘Outliners’ in every sense of the word. The only thing human about them was their outline. The faces were disfigured, with slightly elongated mouths – almost like a dog with a short snout. They had teeth – caninelike teeth. And to top it all off – they had clawed fingers and toes. Greg and Sarah had noted a small growth that encircled their bodies, but they could not get a good view. The mothers stayed too close to the center of the group to be cleanly observed. These young were odd enough that he wanted to bring one back to HHQ for examination. This was obviously a new breed and they had to learn about it, pronto! So Sarah stayed where she had moved. Greg was in the tree. One of the others, Tom was his name, had planted some raw meat on a stake some 100 yrds away. The plan was to see if they could lure a small group away from the rest and capture or kill a mother with young. Sarah, Greg, and Tom would scare off the others while the other two – Walt and Ernie – would capture the target creatures. It seemed like it took hours – probably because it did – but finally a small group caught the scent of the meat. A few individuals moaned and started wandering in that direction. Sarah and Greg bit their lips – this had to work. They had put so much time into it. As they watched on, Sarah and Greg realized one important fact – the mothers were not among the others. They would not go out. Would the others feed them? Only time would tell. Two hours later, they realized the worst – the hunting group was bringing the meat back to the weaker ones – after they’d had their fill. However, the mothers with children and the expecting were the first to be fed of the next group. So there was a level of cooperation. Keep the strongest alive, then keep the next generation alive, then the weak. It was a cold hard fact, but it was probably the best for the survival of the species. As they trudged back to their temporary shelter, Greg and Sarah discussed tactics to separate the young from the rest. It would not be easy they had decided. Then, in a stirring moment, Tom had an idea – one that might just work. What if they found a smaller group and just hit them all head-on? They could find one with young and take what they wanted from the group. Greg decided this idea was best, but they would not do this until they headed home at the end of the day Wednesday – that was four more ays off. In the mean time, they would observe more. Lean more. Wednesday, December 24, 2008 Greg had seen enough. The young Biters were born to the females that had been impregnated less than a week prior. This had really thrown him for a loop! They young that had already been there had sprouted to the size of seven-year-old regular living children. Those unidentified growths wrapped around them were no longer a mystery – they were tails. Ending in a sharp barb about three inches long, they were used by the young in their play fighting as whipping and stabbing weapons. The good news was that the tails were not much longer than the young Biter’s body. A four foot tall child had a four foot long tail – so that did limit their reach, to some extent. These young were also much more athletically gifted than were their zombie parents. They could leap, run, and perform spectacular physical feats. A four foot tall young Biter could easily jump four feet vertically and almost ten feet horizontally. The young had no problem climbing, swinging from things, or doing other things that regular children might – just with tremendous strength. Also, they seemed more aggressive than the parents. The heads of the young were changing shape as they grew. They elongated somewhat – until the head was more oval shaped than that of a regular person. The cranium also elongated to the rear, giving them an almost ellipsoid head. Their eyes seemed feral. There was thought – but it was like that of a wolf, or a big cat – predatory. Cunning. Wiling to fight, and kill, to keep the species alive. This disturbing development had Greg worried. The good news was that they slept at night – all of them. The Biters and Outliners (Sarah and Greg had been using the term Outliners for the young for several days now) usually fell asleep after midnight. They awoke around 8 am; with some sleeping until 9 am. This was what fueled their plan. They would slip in to the group after sleep had overtaken the Biters. Then, they would take the nearest young Outliner and trap it with a portable cage, carried by two of them. They expected the young to cry out. They expected the others to awake. Sarah would snipe as many as possible with her silenced weapon prior, but then after capturing the young, they would have to fight their way out. It was risky, but Greg was sure he could handle it. They had picked a particular sub-group that ‘lived’ nearest the fringes. This was the least dominant alpha-male’s herd. They were about 20 yards into the thick of the Biters. Only about 25 individuals would be within striking range. Greg could handle that many himself with his sword. How much more so could two on the ground and Sarah as the sniper? The other two would be allowed to focus entirely on the carry of the package. After they retreated a certain amount into the woods, there was set a pyrotechnics show. The fire would be lit so that they could go. So the time had come. Sarah did her job. She used her night vision enabled scope to take out nearly a dozen of the Biters – mostly the ones on the very edges of the encampment. Greg and the rest crept in quietly. Things were going well. The young had slept even closer to the edge than before, so that made things a little simpler. With the carry pen set – a large dog carrier with a steel door – they positioned themselves in just the right position. Greg and Tom with their weapons aimed at the sleeping biters – forming something of a perimeter. The other two immediately threw the Outliner into the cage and slammed the door shut. Then all hell broke loose. The Outliner screamed the most blood-curdling scream imaginable. It was a cross between an eagle and a wounded rabbit. Immediately, the Biters awoke. Greg wasted no time picking off the nearest Biters – one by one. Tom was doing the same on the other side. The other men had the cage and were heading out of the encampment as fast as possible – which amounted to a light jog. Sarah was taking safe shots at Biters further from the group that were advancing. Then it happened. Tom was shooting one Biter when one of the young – an Outliner of some four feet or so – attacked. The attack was executed with a feral howl. Tom reacted well, but not fast enough. He squeezed off a shot, but it was not accurate and the Outliner was on him. The bites went straight for the throat. Tom defended, even managed to land a blow or two, but it became clear which the dominant fighter was. It was over in a moment. Tom lay quiet before Greg could even level his weapon. The Outliner turned toward the other two men, but Greg had him first. The 5.56 mm round found its mark and there was a grey splatter. The Outliner lay quiet. To their credit, the other two men kept running – more out of fear than duty, Greg imagined. But the damage was done. With a clear path, the three ran into the woods and Greg tripped the wire rigged to start the fire. A spark hit the gasoline and fire was to be had. The Biters, and a few Outliners, stopped cold in front of the fire. The Outliners paced back and forth in a predatory fury. They had sensed their first kills and they were not going to just give up. However, strong the instinct to hunt, it was outweighed by the instinct to survive. The mutants all kept their distance and Greg, Sarah, Walt and Ernie made good time back to the vehicle. They would get to go home for Christmas! ***** Back at HHQ, the scene was festive. Only Greg, Sarah, Walt, Ernie, Ben, and Taje knew of Tom’s death. The Outliner was being kept in a more isolated area. It would scream out occasionally, but not for long. Ben and Taje had decided to move it to a more secure holding area and keep it fed in that facility. If it got out, it would not present a danger to the people living at HHQ. The overall debriefing, conducted mostly by Sarah and Greg, was taken with a serious attitude by Taje and Ben. The news was not good. These new breeds were going to be far more dangerous. They had to find a weakness soon. The human race had barely survived the outbreak. A whole new breed that would look at them as lunch would not be the most welcome of news to the few survivors. The news was unwelcome. But many things had been unwelcome over the past few months. ***** Monday, December 29, 2008 – near Chattanooga, TN Greg had easily found the wreckage of the Army supply line. It was hard to miss, really. They had rounded a bend and run headlong into several dozen Biters. It may have been over a hundred of the man-beasts, but only a few dozen had been killed. Most of the soldiers had died in the impacts or shortly thereafter. A few dead around the vehicles had been eaten to the point that barely more than their skeletons were left. It was unknown what had killed them, but it was proof that Biters were in the area. The TM had found the vaccination shipment. Most of it was still intact. Several TM members busied themselves transporting the cases from the Army vehicles to their own. Sarah and Sharon had come along on this mission. Greg was still trying to like Sharon. After all, she was almost two months pregnant now. His child needed both parents. There were many things he was unsure of in life – the support of his unborn child was not one of them. As Greg stood watch, letting these thoughts pass through his mind for the three hundredth time today, he suddenly caught himself staring. Sarah had bent over to tie her boot laces and Greg was there staring like a high school boy. He chided with himself for slipping. This was not the way the group leader should act. Even if Sarah was attractive. Screams. Gunfire. It came from Greg’s back. He turned to see several Biters attacking his crew members. The Biters were joined by what appeared to be teenage Outliners. In reality, Greg knew these Outliners were about ten days old – the same general age as the one he’d helped capture. Greg gave the order to open fire. Things appeared in slow motion to Greg. Like the world was moving at a quarter of regular speed. He realized his hand had moved to his katana. Not a good idea. Not with the Outliners there. He did not want to get close to them. Greg’s rifle was at his shoulder in an instant. He closed the distance to where the screams had come from. There was gunfire. He moved more quickly. As he rounded the wreckage, his eyes beheld a sight. Outliners and Biters in a perceived standoff with several of the TM members. Greg continued to close, but then he realized why there was a standoff – the Biters had Sarah and one of the other TM members. Greg could not remember the poor man’s name. It didn’t matter. Greg had to save them. Moving to get his line of sight clear, Greg fired. A Biter went down. The three Outliners did not back away as did the Biters; they pounced. Greg shot the first one down. He was moving forward as well. The TM’s collective fire ripped the second one to shreds. Greg continued to close and fired again. CLICK. “Damn! Misfire!” Greg cleared the AR15 and fired again. CLICK. Not having the time to waste to check the problem, Greg dropped the rifle and began the drawing action on his pistol. During that time, he and the Outliner met, toe-to-toe. The Outliner swiped at Greg with an outstretched claw. Greg instinctively blocked – like he would a punch. Problem was, people don’t have claws to punch with – Outliners do. Greg’s hand was opened up with three gashes. Greg grabbed the throat of the Outliner. His pistol was clear. He saw the stinger-tipped tail coming around the edge of the creature’s body. Trigger pull. BANG. Grey splatter. Dead Outliner. Greg kept his left-handed strangle hold on the creature. He looked at the Biters, who had moved back a short way. They looked at him the way a lion pride might look at you after you shot one of their own. There was respect in their eyes – in a sense of the word. Greg raised his pistol. The militia members raised their weapons, as if on cue. Many BANG’s. Six seconds later it was over. It would have been called a route. Except there was one dead and one wounded. Sarah moaned from the side of the wreckage. Greg was at her side immediately. She had bite marks on her shoulders and one nasty one on her back. It was time to go. |
Thank you! Really - you don't think the descriptions of the offspring are over the top? I was afraid they might be for some readers. |
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Chapter 12 Monday, January 19, 2009 – Nashville, TN Two feet of snow on the ground. This much snow had only been recorded once in the past hundred years in Tennessee. The good news was that the efforts to eradicate the zombie forces were simplified by the snow. The zombies moved more slowly in the cold. The snow hampered the movement of the Biters. The cold also seemed to affect the reproductive behavior as fewer Outliners were being born. What was left of the US military had now adopted the names given the zombies by the Tennessee forces. This made communication with other outposts much easier. Current estimates had the US Population at fewer than 1 million. Most people were now in shelters or military command areas similar in nature to those the TM and US Army had set up in Nashville. So far, the plague had not been observed to jump to other species. That was the good news. The bad news was the appearance of the Outliners all over. They were stronger, faster, bolder, and far more dangerous than the Biters were. The good news was that once a female Biter gave birth, she died within a week. Probably had something to do with growing that much offspring in such a short amount of time. Aside from their superior athletic abilities, the Outliners were no more difficult to eliminate than the Biters were. Full grown – and they stopped growing about 20 days after birth – they reached an average height of five feet. The average weight was about 150 lbs. They had four large claws on each hand that were about three inches long and half an inch thick – one on each finger; and they had no thumbs. These claws were sharpened on trees much like a cat would. Their tails grew to six feet in length. The tip was a sharp barb about nine inches long. The barb was three inches thick on the part where it attached to the tail and tapered to a sharp point. Each tail was somewhat prehensile. The Outliner could use it as a whip in combat and; more sparingly, as a stabbing weapon if their opponent was in the right position. The Outliners’ heads looked like something out of a horror movie. Odd in placement, they were oblong in shape, with a crown extending back behind the neck. Their faces were slightly elongated and had sharp canine teeth. They could bite as a weapon, their preference being for the neck like most other large predators. Outliners did not care what kind of prey they took – deer and other wildlife were common. Stealth was a major part of their hunting tactics and places to hide were paramount to their success. In open combat, Outliners were aggressive. This made them fairly easy, although dangerous, to shoot. Close combat was not recommended. Of those who had survived in close quarters combat with Outliners, only Greg had done so without a firearm; and he had used his sword in most of those instances. Because of this, his sword classes were rapidly growing in number. Greg had decided to change the way he taught the sword from the methods that had been taught to him. He kept with the five manifestations – Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, and Void. He dropped most of the 72 forms that he had been taught down to simple drills. A few forms – one for each manifestation – he taught in the traditional manner. Many of the solo forms were discarded. Perhaps he would teach them to top students later. Most of those were for sword-on-sword combat. While that might be useful in the future, it was not necessary right now. Greg’s sword classes would eventually integrate into the marksmanship and tactical weapons classes. He taught people to use their own inherent personality to dictate how they wielded their swords. Everyone was given basic instruction. Those who liked fundamentals and organized thought processes specialized in the Earth form of combat. People who preferred even more precision – leading to a most efficient use were enrolled in the Wind methodology. Those who were passionate in life were taught the Fire principles. People who naturally liked to conform and go with the flow found a match with the Water teachings. And those who liked to really fly by the seat of their pants and preferred no particular form were attracted to the manifestation of the Void. Greg was amazed at the old Oriental way of looking at things. They were simple observations made from a different point of view than he was used to. However, they were very accurate, as it had been observation that lead to that way of thinking in the first place. Personalities don’t change and that was a fact he wished to use to its fullest potential. Many of the students were surprised to find that Greg taught no religion in association with the sword or other martial arts. Some folks, he figured, just sort of expected that sort of thing. Ben was taking to the sword very well. He was completely settled in as the leader of the Tennessee Militia. Other branches of the Militia had formed in multiple towns – Chattanooga, Memphis, Knoxville, The Tri-cities, Murfreesboro, Jackson, Franklin, and Cookeville to name the more populated ones. The once proud state of nearly 6 million residents had been reduced to fewer than 15,000 residents. The Nashville branch was now nearing 1000, counting the regular military. Taje had made Ben second in command as now the military and militia followed and respected one another’s rank as equal. Electricity had been restored to the main cities. Some of the remaining military brass sent out instructional briefs on how to get the power restored and how to train the locals who were otherwise unfamiliar with such things to be able to run the day-to-day operations. Tennessee had three specialists who would do the more advanced operations. They had hand selected apprentices to teach. In other areas, rebuilding was in full swing. Farms had been scouted all across the state. Seeds had been procured for spring planting. Every living resident over the age of ten was fully trained in firearm use, first aid, and other necessary tasks. People all over found that the more they cooperated, the better chance they stood. Yes, things were going great. Except for two people. And for them, things were not so great. Greg was one. He still did not want to have to marry Sharon, but he felt it was his duty. Even Sharon had been reluctant to the idea –but Greg insisted on no broken homes because of him. Sharon gave in – mostly so that she could once again have the protection afforded by a husband. And in this case, there was no better warrior or protector to be found in this new world. The other person who was not doing so well was Sarah. She made a complete recovery from her wounds, but she was a young lady in need of being half of a couple. The sad fact was that there were no young men close to her age. There were some men that were generally much older than her – typically in their forties. Then again, there were several boys in their early teens – but they were obviously too young. At her age, five or six years’ difference was a lifetime! So Greg and Sarah focused not on their troubles, but on their work. Naturally it made them each the best at what they did. Sarah had surpassed even Savannah in her shooting ability – and she was coming along quite well in her tactical rifle and pistol shooting and swordplay. In fact, when the time came for sparring with the wooden shinai (practice swords made of bamboo), Sarah had no match among the students. Only Greg could best her. And she was a long way from his skill level. Greg focused on teaching the non-firearm related combat. However, he was catching on better and better each day with his tactical rifle. His tactical pistol skills were not good, yet – but he vowed to improve them. Savannah was a big help to him. She helped him practice his rifle techniques over and over. Gradually, his muscle memory was sharpening. ***** Which brings us to the events of January 19. It started, as was mentioned, as a cold day with much snow on the ground. If only it could have stayed that way. The morning was brisk – and several squads of the Military and militia were out “scrubbing” the different areas. That was the new term for eliminating zombies. Also, several squads were out searching for food and extra clothing to protect from the cold. All in all, fewer than 100 people were left at HHQ. Ben had that day off. Greg, Savannah, Sarah, and some others were practicing with the wooden practice swords. Sharon was in the main kitchen area, teaching her boys how to cook. Here and there, people went about whatever routine was worth doing at the time. It had been weeks since zombies had last attempted to attack the HHQ – and they were so soundly beaten that they had not returned at all. Until now. Shortly after 11 am, it all started. One of the supply squads got back with a truckload. The fence was being opened for them. Scouts and snipers were busy conversing with the members who had brought the items back. Evidently, this was a good find. A screech. A terrible, howling screech. Biters. *Hundreds* of biters. Outliners. Dozens of the bastards. The supply truck was overrun in seconds. Two of the guards turned and ran. All the “ghost stories” of how tough the Outliners could be had taken their toll. The guards were *scared* of them. Blood flowed and screams – human screams tore through the courtyard of the hotel. A general panic took effect and the defenses crumbled like so much stale bread. Greg and several of the others were inside, finishing their practice. They had worked up a good sweat and were thoroughly exhausted. Then Derek ran into the room. His eyes were wild with fear and his voice was trembling. “They’re here! They got mom!” the boy yelled. He seemed a foot taller than he’d been when Ben and Greg had first rescued him. They initially had figured him to be twelve years old. He was, in reality, fifteen this very day. His voice was deepening day by day. He was now close to six feet in height. His strength was growing, too. But, most importantly, his mind and physical skills were growing. Soon, the rest would understand that. Very soon. Greg sheathed his sword – but did not remove it. In a swift motion, he put on his ammo vest – which had his Glocks on it – he carried two pistols now… just in case. His rifle was in the other room, but he could fight his way to it if need be. He turned to see Savannah, Ben, Sarah, and Derek putting on their ammo vests. Good, they would be ready! The five of them opened the door to the hallway just in time to witness some of the wilder commotion. There were Biters coming down the hall. Outliners were leaping and clawing, this way and that. People that got too close – or who simply did not run fast enough – were torn to shreds. Blood had already stained the carpets… it was everywhere. Derek was a blur of motion. He pushed past the others in a flash and began firing with his Glock. He was blazing a trail to his mother. He urged the others along: “this way! Hurry!” “Derek, we need more firepower!” Greg said. “No, the main forces are not here, yet. We will have time.” Derek’s voice was not that of a boy. It was a man. A worried and concerned man to be sure – but a man nonetheless. Derek forced his way into the room. The Biters who got in his way or otherwise tried to make him their lunch soon found themselves the recipients of 180 grain lead zombie killers… otherwise known as .40 caliber bullets. Greg and Ben were hot on Derek’s heels, and they mostly covered the sides. The ladies covered the group’s 6 o’clock. Derek kicked the door down in a smooth motion. They all paused to take in the sight. Six Biters were huddled over a bloody mess of what had once been a woman. None of them had a doubt who that woman had been. A moment passed. Reality set in. Anger was set out. Derek bull-rushed the group. His Glock rang out thrice. The first Biter was down. Twice again and the second Biter was down. The distance was rapidly closing, Greg noted as things seemed to move in slow motion for him. Ben was tracking his pistol up toward the Biter on the far left – and he had a clean shot. If Greg’s fury some time ago had been a storm of anger, then Derek’s current rage was a hurricane. A single right hand punch actually caved in the right half of the face of a Biter as Derek reached the remaining zombies. The punched Biter went down in a heap. Two Biters left. Unfortunately, one was an alpha-male type form the looks. Both Biters attacked at once as Derek kicked the ever-living stew out of the one he punched. The man-child looked up, eyes glaring flames, and took them both by their throats. Ben and Greg remarked later how there was no way that what they had seen could have happened – except they witnessed it. They witnessed Derek lift both Biters physically off of the ground. The small one he flung into the wall. The large one… that would be personal. The large Biter had blood oozing out of his mouth. Not his own blood – but Sharon’s. That was all of the motivation Derek needed. Derek held him – off of the ground – with his right hand. With his left hand, Derek found his tactical folding knife. Cold steel unfolded and locked into place. A fraction of a second later, the cold steel was surrounded by warm tissue and blood. Derek actually decapitated the lead Biter. It was quick – faster than it should have been. Far faster than it would have been in any other situation. The Biter that had been slung against the wall was rising. Derek was there in a flash – grabbing the doomed zombie by the throat – Glock in his right hand. Derek’s heart sang for the end. His trigger finger made the song audible. Greg, Ben, Savannah and Sarah stood in wonderment – the four of them had seen that sort of rage and decisive action before… from Greg himself. But where Greg’s technique had been honed for many years, this kid was a natural. Greg wondered what he would be capable of when fully trained. Sarah caught herself looking at the tear in Derek’s pants just below the backside. Something in the way he moved… Then it hit Derek. All of it. He wept bitterly. In seconds his face was streaming in tears. All in the room had known the loss he was now going through. All of them also realized there was more to be done outside. “Derek. Don’t let her death be in vain. Let’s save the others while we still have time. I need your help to do this.” Greg said. “Of course,” came the reply. Derek looked up, his eyes altering from rage to sorrow and back ten times a second. He also knew that his motivation to stop this attack was his sorrow. He was old enough to understand that. Derek rose. Rose as a man. From this day forward, all would know him as a man. Then it hit Greg. That was his child that just died – unborn in Sharon’s womb. His grief set in rapidly. This was getting to be too much for him to remain civil. In a moment, there were two raging bulls in the room. “Let’s go win this one, guys.” Ben was clear headed. But he knew better than to try to calm down either Derek or Greg. He needed their rage. It would turn the tide. The five left the room. The action seemed to be mostly in the front. So to the front the moved, without haste. The action there was horrendous. Thousands of Biters faced hundreds of humans. What the Biters and Outliners lacked in technology and know-how, they made up for in sheer numbers and determination. That was about to change. What these Biters would never understand is that they were about to tangle with Ben and Greg. Greg and Ben. The children located in HHQ had often turned talk toward who would win the fight, if they ever did turn against one another. The fact that it would be so close was evidenced in the number of fistfights that this particular speculation turned into. In the end though, the kids all knew they would never fight one another, so we would never know. When the two men came on the scene, it changed. The sheer mass of Biters had been pushing the people back. With rifles raised, Greg and Ben were going to change that. To hell with the consequences. “Watch my back, amigo.” Ben said. It was their line. Their cue. If the tide could ever be changed, it would happen after Ben uttered this phrase. The men raised their rifles. The AR-15’s began to sing out. Their song was a deadly one. It was a song of death. Death for the dead. Ben and Greg aimed and fired and advanced and completely gave themselves to the moment. Sarah, Savannah, and Derek secured themselves toward the front of the rest. They fired at every clean opening they got. Bodies started to pile up. The tide was turning. But it wasn’t the three of them. No, in the end it was two men who made the difference. Two men without fear for themselves or the outcome. Two warriors. Two warriors against two thousand. It was never a contest. It was never meant to be. Ben and Greg pushed the Biters back. Back through the opening they were using to get into the pavilion. Back out into open area. Bodies fell. Magazines changed. Ben and Greg were in the moment. The problem with being in the moment is that it often becomes easy to miss the details. Especially when you are operating at top speed. That is what happened to Ben and Greg. As they shot their way forward, Ben and Greg cleared the outer walls of the HHQ. I n so doing, they lost the cover of those back in the pavilion. They were so consumed with the destruction of the enemy that neither one noticed… until they heard a growl from their collective rear. Outliners... |
Not at all, it is done very well you should be proud of your self. |
Thank you all for the nice comments. I have made up my mind to complete this story. We are almost done with the second of three major parts in my outline (no pun intended  ) for the story. Any comments and/or criticisms would also be appreciated. I will also be happy to answer any questions (provided they don't reveal the ending!  ).
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PM sent. |
Torin, thank you for the criticism!  I promise it will not affect the remaining writing to be done. |
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Zombies, Demon Spawn, Guns and Swords........ I'm so happy to have found this story. GREAT JOB! |
"Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation." - Robert F. Kennedy
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Chapter 13 Ben and Greg saw the trap just before it was sprung. It was not an intentional trap to be sure. No, the Biters and the Outliners were not at all capable of higher level thought needed to make a trap. This was a trap of circumstance. Everything fell into place at the right time and place. It was still a trap… Derek realized something. All those classes he’s spent, listening to Greg. They were all coming together. He was understanding. It was a giant puzzle being solved in his mind – piece by piece. He realized at once the strategy that Ben had taught and just now failed to employ. He realized why this strategy was the one Ben chose. He realized the strengths and weaknesses of it. He *realized.* It was a moment of clairvoyance. It would extend to Derek for all of his days, but it all started right here, right now. It was the proverbial light being switched on. He understood what had to be done. Now all that was needed was for somebody to do it. Why didn’t one of the soldiers or Savannah give the order? “Sarah, take three men, get to the top of that wall. Lay down suppressive fire to move the Biters back.” Derek had all of the presence of a seasoned military commander in his voice. “Savannah, get to the top of the other wall with the others. Take out those damn things!” “What are you going to do?” Sarah cried out. “I am going to get Greg and Ben back and end this little game.” Derek said. He moved like a man. He walked into the thick of the battle. Sarah and Savannah obeyed the order, although they did not strictly have to. Mainly they did because it made perfect sense – why hadn’t they thought of it before? To gain the advantage – fight where you can strike the enemy, while he cannot strike you back. The Biters could not get up the wall – only the outliners could. However, the height improved visibility, making it difficult… if not impossible… for the Outliners to get close without being noticed! Derek walked. His stare was of the thousand-yard variety. He would not be able to shoot – he did not know where Greg and Ben were. No, he had to do this by hand. Like he had done only moments earlier. He spotted something. A pole, knocked down in the combat. One end a spike. This had been a flag pole, but there was no more flag. That would be OK, Derek did not need a flag – he needed the sharp pointy end… and it was still there. Greg and Ben were fighting for their lives. Greg was out of ammo. Ben was not far behind. Greg had his sword out and the flashing steel was mowing down Biter after Biter after Outliner. Those outliners were hard. They moved rapidly and were not quite as big as many Biters. Ben was taking controlled shots very quickly. He was down to his Glock and it only had two more magazines. Each shot a kill, each kill another body in the growing pile. That pile kept the two of them from being completely overrun. It made the Biters back away slowly. It pissed off the Outliners. Everything did. A flash of steel. It was not Greg’s – this one had a golden glint to it. An Outliner howled. It was going to die, but was not dead yet. The steel had opened up its abdomen. The wielder of the weapon concerned himself only with threats – not former threats. It was Derek. His makeshift spear was a vortex of lethal energy. Ben wondered to himself if he shouldn’t get a bladed weapon like that – after all, it worked for them, why not him? A click. Ben’s Glock had fired it’s last shot. He holstered it. He wondered if that took too much time – he might never get a chance to take it back out. He drew his fixed blade knife. The blade was 8.5 inches long. Too close for comfort, but he had no alternative. The scene was unsurpassed in all of Savannah’s days. Thee was a tight circle of men with hand-held bladed weapons taking out zombie after zombie after *creature.* The military and militia forces were firing – from outside to inside – on the Biters and Outliners. Forget that – she had to keep them off of her husband, friend, and the boy. The boy who fights and acts like a man, she reminded herself. Derek whirled his spear free of the body of a Biter. He raised it and prepared to take on an Outliner. Good, he’d only killed two of them today! As he prepared to strike, its head exploded. He looked up to see that Savannah had shot the creature. Derek had been off to the side, so there was no direct danger of being hit by the bullet – but that wasn’t what frustrated him. What frustrated him was the fact that he’d been robbed of a kill! The fight progressed. The tide was turned. A new wave of soldiers joined the fray on the ground and along the wall. They had just returned from sweeping HHQ down completely. Ben, Greg, and Derek fought in close space with the foe. It was about to turn into a very one-sided affair when a loud roar rang out. All of the fighting stopped suddenly upon hearing that roar. Savannah tried to find the source of the roar, but was unable. She looked to Sarah, who gestured that she had no idea, either. Greg and Ben were looking all around – they obviously had not confirmed a visual. Then slowly… one by one… the Biters turned and walked away. The Outliners, being more aggressive, backed off, almost reluctantly. That was perfectly fine with Ben and Greg. Those Outliners were very tough to fight – and they both wore fresh wounds to remind them of this. The battle ended as soon as it started. The Biters and Outliners simply walked away. Naturally, the TM and the Army took as many of them down as possible, but soon, they were all out of sight. ***** “What was that roar, Granddad?” Calista asked. It was well into the afternoon. The rain was pouring as heavily as ever. There would be no fun outside today. However, the parents of the children had joined them in the living room. All were entranced by the story the old man offered. Kyle’s mom had put a stew on just so she could come in and hear the story – and still have plenty for everybody to eat. “We will come to that shortly, young lady. Although we didn’t find out for three more years what it was!” the old timer said. “Three years! What did they do in the mean time?” Kyle asked. “Killed zombies, young man. Lots of them.” “What did they do with the dead zombies?” Blake asked. “Burned them. We had to so that the disease would not get to our children. We learned it could only survive outside the human body for a year or so. If we burned the bodies, that made sure nothing was kept from the elements inside the dead Biters…” The old man informed them. “Or Outliners!” Johnny added. “No – the Outliners had no form of the infection. It was part of their DNA. When they died, the harm could not be passed to people. They were a completely new species. That’s why they were called Outliners – they were simply Outlines of humans – nothing more.” Granddad has a teary look to his eyes. As if remembering was taking its toll. Like the soldier he was, he continued… ***** Tuesday, March 1, 2011 – Nashville, TN Major Ben Hill looked out the window and watched the rain. He was lost in thought, remembering how it had been BEFORE the comet struck. At least the weather was back to normal. There was a new definition to the word “normal” for almost all other elements of life now. What had once been unnecessary or never even thought of in civilized areas was now ordinary. Many things that used to be taken for granted were now difficult, if not impossible, to come by. Ben thought about the changes. The biggest had been the complete dissolution of the US military. Everyone was militia now. The government was very different – much more locally centered. There was little Federal government – and most of that was now simple agreements entered into by groups of local authorities to honor certain laws. Most of those laws were simple – no killing, stealing, and that sort of thing. When things had localized, Ben was immediately promoted to Major by Taje. A clear line of succession was drawn. Greg had been promoted to Captain. Savannah was a Lieutenant. There were several other officers in the Nashville area, as well. On the grand scale, many things had returned. Shipments of easily manufactured items such as batteries, simple devices, ammunition, and other such sundries were resumed within the first year. There was no socialistic aspect to drive the people who knew how to make these products – they simply traded their goods for what they needed – mostly food. The economy, such as it was, now leaned heavily on the barter system. Money, as it had been, was no more. On the local scene, things were really looking up. There were over 1200 survivors here, making Nashville the fourth largest survivor’s colony in the state. They now occupied several locations, each of which was heavily fortified and could sustain the entire population of the city for several months, if need be. Each location had its specialty – electricity, food, running water, education, and transportation. Other similar colonies nationwide had emerged. Many had specialties – car manufacture, salt mining, fuel production (now the US was completely independent of foreign oil!), and many other such activities. With the entire population of the country holding well at just over a million people – outputs were only a fraction of what they had been three years earlier. Ben thought about himself for a moment. He and Savannah had a two year old girl. Fatherhood was the best thing ever for Ben! Greg had taken to being an “uncle” with great enthusiasm – and the mere thought of that made Ben smile. Greg needed that on several levels. Ben enjoyed being a father, and that fact helped him realize that Greg missed being a father. That was why Greg had taken Derek and Nathan Kemp under his wing. The boys were good pupils, to be sure! After Sharon’s death, many expected Greg to implode. The same folks expected one of the boys to explode. To Ben’s delight, neither of those things happened. Instead, Greg latched on to Derek and Nathan as though they were his own sons. And they latched on to him as though he were their surrogate father. It was good for all three of them. Derek became Greg’s right hand. This was good because out of necessity, Ben was having to spend more time with Taje and in other forms of leadership around the colony. However, Ben managed to get together with Greg a few hours each week. Usually Derek was right there – absorbing everything that was said or done. Given his personality, Ben thought, that is not a bad idea – he could surpass both of us in time. On the outside, things were different. There were very few biters left – anywhere. Most of the ones still lingering were male. The females were rarely spotted, and most of them were the pre-adolescent ones, or the post menopausal ones. The Outliners had moved into the areas previously occupied by Biters. They were fewer in number – not because they did not breed fast – for they did; they were fewer in number due solely to the eradication efforts of the Militias across the nation. Outliners were very tough to fight. All armed soldiers now wore body armor to protect them from scratches, bites, and the tail. Still, most missions now saw casualties. It was almost commonplace. Outliners were so aggressive that they would continue after the quarry until one of the two was dead. Coupled with their athleticism and tendencies to run in packs, they were a truly difficult prey for people to hunt. Often as not, Outliners hunted people with success: it was not uncommon for a search & rescue team to uncover a house or other dwelling where people had survived the Biters only to fall prey to the Outliners. One could easily tell by the tooth marks in the bone – both species only left bare bones behind – but the Biters had human teeth whereas the Outliners had predatory teeth. There was never any mistake which ones had been there last. The best practices for eradicating Outliners wound up being long distance shooting. Shooting teams came in threes now. One shooter, one spotter, and one guard. In reality, the guard protected the rear 270 degrees and the spotter on the forward 90 degrees. The actual shooter frequently carried a .270, .30-06, or a .308. Other long range caliber ammo was not being produced. In fact, the only other rifle rounds being produced were 5.56 mm and 7.62x39. Anything bigger would be hand-loaded, and preformed bullets were now virtually impossible to obtain. In the recorded fighting, only about fifty men had ever survived close quarters combat with Outliners in the three years since the Comet – Greg, Ben, and Derek were the only ones in Tennessee. Not that there were not other men and women capable, but none outside the “Famed Fifty” had ever had the courage and opportunity, and lived to tell about it. Except one, in particular. This one hailed from Tennessee – or that was what everyone assumed, at least, since his exploits were common in Tennessee and unsubstantiated anywhere else. And that was the topic of today’s meeting. Ben suddenly remembered where he was… right about to brief the TM of the news of this… discovery. There was a large assembly – most, if not all of the 1200 survivors were here. There were a few guards posted, but they would watch the video replay later. Ben had asked a particular member of the militia to recount what he’d seen. Troy McAdams was known by many – a good shot and a cunning warrior by all accounts, as well as a decent man, according to those close to him. Edited for questions, flow and accuracy, this was his description of what he had seen: ** “My team of three was scouting. We had orders not to engage unless absolutely necessary. It would wind up being easy to follow those orders. We were south of what used to be Murfreesboro – maybe twenty miles or so. The rain was falling hard. That was what we were using to help conceal ourselves. It was cold and we were all trying to keep warm while keeping watch. “We saw a group of about twenty Outliners. It was no different than what we are all used to seeing. They were demonic, savage, and devoid of anything human. We were about 100 yards away, in an old deer stand. We used the stand because it had the right angles for us to keep watch at our backs and the height provided additional tactical security. “We had been watching them for several hours. They mostly milled around one area. They had been eating a cow they had killed. It was like a pack of wolves eating – there was a definite pecking order and it was every demon for himself. They picked the carcass clean in two hours. “What appeared to be a small hunting party of people appeared to the south. They were obviously stalking the Outliners. Armed with rifles and everything. They spread out a bit – not as much as we usually do – and took cover. The Outliners never saw the first volley of fire coming. In an instant three were dead. These folks knew how to shoot. “It didn’t take long for the demon-spawn to realize where the attack was coming from. They scattered after seeing the first of their brothers go down. But then, they regrouped. Not to a central location – but to a central objective. They started circling around the location of the attacks. Before we knew it, the people were surrounded. “I made the decision to intervene – these were people after all. But before we could even get into a firing position, the fight had erupted. We couldn’t shoot at the Outliners who were close for fear of accidentally hitting the men. So we took out about five of the demons that were standing off and away. “The fight was quick and brutal. Four of the demons were killed, but the others took out the people. It was not pretty. Just as we were debating whether to take more potshots at the remaining gremlins, we saw a sight to behold. It was the largest Outliner I’ve ever seen. “The beast was obviously a male and he stood over eight feet in height. His head was crested with a crown of bony plates. It gave the appearance of a broad helmet. The others backed off when he approached. He howled – the most ruthless and feral howl I’ve ever heard. It was the same howl we heard here three years ago… there’s no mistaking it. We all dubbed him the King. “The King immediately went over to the corpses and began to feed. It was revolting. We decided against shooting at them for fear of having them come after us. Those others looked well trained and they did everything right, but still were over-run by the monsters. We decided it would be better to honor their memory by learning more so that one day we could rid the Earth of their killers. ** Troy wrapped up with a tear in his eye. It was easy to tell he wanted to be able to help the others, but he’d done the right thing in the bigger picture by learning. Now they knew about their new enemy and he had been the one to teach them. “We have some video here that Troy and his team took. Look carefully.” Taje instructed as he began the playback on a large monitor. The video confirmed the appearance of the king male and his size and role in the pack. “When Taje and I learned of this, we knew immediately we would want more information. We’ve commissioned another team to go to the area and find this same monster-king,” Ben addressed the group. “Greg will lead and he will be accompanied by Troy and Dan Fausch.” “I want to go, too. Greg will need me on this one!” Derek spoke up. “Not this time, Derek. We need you here.” Taje said, moving his palms in a downward, calming motion. “Greg will need me there!” Derek protested. “If the group is compromised, we need to have all of the skilled trainers we can here,” Ben responded. “That means you would have to pick up where Greg left off.” “Hey, don’t count me out, yet. This ‘king’ hasn’t seen what I can do with a blade!” Greg quipped. “But seriously, Derek, you need to stay here. We can’t have our best two of anything out on the same mission. It’s too risky. You are one of the best combat instructors here, despite your age.” “Yes sir.” Derek replied. He didn’t want to admit that they were right. But, by the same token, Ben, Taje, and Greg all agreed that Derek did have a good point. There were no fighters better than him. Maybe some could equal him – but none better. ***** “You see them coming over that hill?” Greg whispered. It was rapidly approaching nightfall that same day and his team had been in position for over two hours. They were right where the previous events had taken place – about 100 yards from the Outliners who were coming over the rise and into view. “Yes, there’s seven of them. No king… yet,” Dan responded. Dan was in his mid forties, balding, and a great guy to be around. Always in good spirits. “And from behind?” Greg asked. “Clear this way. I’ll tug on this rope if I see something that is unfriendly, but not an immediate threat.” Troy had tied the rope to three small sticks, which were wrapped in red cloth and attached at the other end to the top of the wall of the blind by six inches of fishing line. Pulling on Troy’s end would basically be waving a red flag that only Greg and Dan could see. The minutes ticked away. Each moment seemed an eternity. Sunset was getting near. When it grew dark, they switched to night-vision goggles. Greg attached a night-vision scope to the top of his AR15 and to those of the other men, as well. The group of Outliners started slowing down and curling up to sleep. The monster-king came out from the shadows and joined them some forty minutes later. Greg observed that not only was he much larger than the average Outliner – or man, for that matter – but that he also had a tail that was twice the length of his body. Clearly this Outliner was best left alone until they could learn more about him. Greg never realized he’d drifted off to sleep – until he was awakened by the frantic tugging at his arm and the whispers by Troy. “Check this out. Damn, you’re not going to believe it!” Troy was on the verge of yelling out – but he kept his composure. Greg wiped his eyes and tried to clear the cobwebs from his head. He realized Dan was asleep, as well. Greg awakened Dan and instructed him to keep watch at their rear. Troy’s tugs became even more frantic at Greg’s arm, so he looked through the scope. What he saw left him in amazement. Greg had just focused in on the Outliners in time to see the mass confusion. An object had just dropped one of the Outliners – had that been an arrow? The Outliners were trying to discover the direction of the attack. They obviously could neither hear nor see their assailant. Greg wondered how they felt about the tables being turned on them. A glint. Metal? Shrieking. An Outliner was dying and letting all the others know about it. This unfortunate demon had been sliced nearly in two from the hip to the shoulder. What had done that? More shrieking. Greg adjusted the controls on the scope. For some reason, he couldn’t get a clear view of the action. Then he realized why – it was raining steadily. He focused on the area of the second cry. This one was more enraged than the original. Greg saw why. This monster had severed stumps where its arms and tail had been. It was not dead – though it would be within hours. Another glint. Definitely metal. Definitely human. Or humanoid. Oh, it was human, it moved like one. This was no Outliner. But the movement was good and smooth. This person was well trained. Then the figure disappeared and more howling. Greg had seen why this time. The figure had gutted an Outliner alive. A single slice opened up the abdomen of the demon – but Greg never saw the blade. This guy was good. Really good. But where did he go? Yet another glint. There would be no howl this time. This Outliner had been relieved of its head in a single stroke. Clean, efficient, like a true warrior would have done. Greg had a glimpse of the assailant this time. There was a mask – at least what looked like a mask. It was made of metal. This was the gleam he had been seeing. The rest of the being was what Greg presumed to be completely black – head to toe. The weapons… had been… exquisite. Greg was an admirer of weapons. He knew of many different types from many different cultures. The assailant carried a straight bow and had an empty quiver. Presumably he had fired all of his arrows. There was a hunter’s knife at his right side. There had been a unique weapon in the hand of the attacker. However, he had never seen a weapon like this… exactly. There were parts that were familiar. The main weapon had been spear-like… but it was not like any spear Greg had seen. It had elements of swords as well – the blades were like those of a Scottish Claymore sword’s blades – albeit a bit shorter. There were two of these blades. They were attached at both ends of a four-foot staff. The entire length of the weapon was about seven feet. Greg could not tell the composition of the staff, but he assumed it to be metal due to the thickness – or lack thereof. It was only about an inch in diameter. The attacker wore an old-fashioned Samurai warrior mask. It was demonic in appearance – but of a different sort than the faces of the Outliners. He moved with a precision that reminded Greg of his martial arts instructor. The movements were predatory – like those of a hunter back in the days when men hunted with spears and bows. This assailant moved quickly. He obviously knew his quarry and their penchant for ganging up on those who attacked them. The style was of a hit and run variety. As soon as the… hunter… struck, he moved away – into the trees and shadows. He was difficult to follow, at best. The Outliners were a mass of confusion. They knew not where to attack. This was the most confused Greg had ever seen them. Another glint. This time it did not surprise Greg. Greg saw the entire exchange. He had seen where the hunter had gone into the trees and kept his focus on that general area. Sure enough, the hunter had emerged only a few feet away when it was time to attack again. This exchange was violent. It was swift. It was decisive. At the end, it was everything a true hunter would want – it was clean and did not put him in direct danger. Greg watched as the hunter exploded in a rush from the trees. The first Outliner had been looking the other way. It was quickly run through by the spear. A quick upward thrust opened the Outliner’s entire chest up. A side motion ensured that all major circulatory and respiratory systems had been decommissioned. Then the hunter withdrew the weapon and stabbed it into the ground. Pulling his knife, the hunter faced the last Outliner. Naturally, the Outliner rushed him. The hunter had realized that the demon would do this and rushed at the demon. They had started some thirty feet apart. The distance was closed quickly. In a single motion, the hunter pulled the Outliner’s head down with his left hand, pushed his right hand (which held the hunting knife) into the throat area of the Outliner, and flipped the beast over himself – turning with the throw – and onto the ground. The hunter had scored a clean hit, but the wound would take a while to kill the Outliner. The hunter did not wish to wait – he had other things to do. The hunter drew a handgun from his waist – cross draw position. One shot rang out. One kill was registered. One roar was heard. It was the king. He was coming. Greg’s mind was working at near light-speed. This hunter had a gun the whole time, and just didn’t want to use it? It was all Greg and the TM could do to kill these things with rifles, pistols, and shotguns, and this clown wanted to do it with antique weapons? Greg focused his attention back on as the monster-king came into view. The king beast saw the carnage. He wasn’t pleased. His subjects were dead. This hunter would pay. The king lowered into a half-crouch. He was ready to spring into action. The hunter pulled his spear-like weapon from the ground in a cavalier manner. With a twirl, he set the weapon. Greg recognized the posture. It was a staff high guard-aggressive. But the hunter did not attack. This was a mistake, Greg thought, to assume a posture that did not match one’s intentions?! The concern Greg had with the wrong posture played out as he feared it might. The hunter had adopted an aggressive posture – one well suited for attacking. Then the hunter had waited for the attack to come to him. This was a classic error. The aggressive posture left the staff-like weapon in the wrong position for quick or effective defense, and the hunter realized that as soon as he tried to flip his weapon over and around to block the swing of the king’s extra-long tail. The block came late and the tail crashed into the rib area of the hunter. He was knocked to the ground by the powerful blow. The King Outliner, realizing his opportunity, leapt to pounce on his fallen adversary. The hunter had anticipated it, though, and rolled away. The king continued to press the attack. The hunter continued to roll, then stopped suddenly, with his spear pointed at the king. The blade hit the king in the thigh. The king howled, but almost immediately counterattacked with a blow from his left claws. The hunter spun his spear – impossibly fast – to meet the blow and severed the paw at the wrist. His defense had become his offense and now this hunter had the momentum. With a forward roll, the hunter was on his feet and attacking – lunging the spear at the demon. The Outliner king was retreating, trying to get his balance; and trying to keep his left arm from the pain he felt. The hunter thrust low. Paydirt. The Outliner was stripped of his genitals. The hunter followed in a smooth motion with a wide-arcing slash that took out the king’s right leg. Another slash, from the other side took out the left. This battle was almost over. The hunter kicked the Outliner to the ground – face up. With a casual twirl of the spear, the hunter brought his weapon up, over his head, and prepared for the final blow. The king Outliner, in a desperate move, rolled to one side and thrust his tail at the hunter. The blow hit the hunter squarely in the chest – knocking him back. Then all who were there or watching were surprised. Greg was surprised that the sharp-pointed tail had not actually stabbed into the hunter. The Outliner king was surprised that he couldn’t get back to his feet. Then he saw his feet about ten yards away. The hunter was surprised that he was knocked down. So he immediately rose. The next blow was neither casual, nor delayed. The hunter swiftly and adeptly thrust the spear up and into the brain cavity of the king Outliner. All was still. The hunter slipped into the woods and disappeared. |
Good guess. Naturally, you will have to continue to read to find out. 
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Chapter 14 Greg stood silent… stunned. Troy and Dan were equally mesmerized. They scanned the area for many minutes, hoping to see some trace of the mysterious hunter. Nothing. Nothing anywhere. Morning came for the three eventually – but it seemed to take an eternity. They cautiously made their way to the area of the carnage. Deciding that the Outliner King was best understood, and they had a corpse to study, they salvaged the body. The whole time, the three of them, each in his own way, could not stop thinking about what they had seen. Who was this hunter? Why had he done that? Where did he learn these things? Having more questions than answers at this point, the group made haste for the colonial headquarters. Taje and Ben would need to know about this. They wouldn’t believe it, but it was Greg’s duty to inform them anyways. ***** Greg had been right. Taje took the news with a degree of skepticism. Nevertheless, he could not deny the body of an Outliner King was a find that made the trip worthwhile. After debriefing Taje and Ben, Greg figured he had to tell someone else – just to see if they would actually believe him. Greg ran to Derek’s room. He opened the door with a start, “Derek, you’re never going to believe this…” Greg paused. Derek looked up from the bed. He was obviously not dressed. Neither was Sarah. Good thing for her, she was under Derek. Greg looked away, embarrassed. “It can wait…” Never! He had never figured them to be a couple! There was too much going on for Greg to process it all. He needed a drink. ***** Derek was not really embarrassed by what his mentor had just seen. He was a man – a young man – but a man nonetheless. The only bad thing was Sarah was a bit embarrassed. That was fair. She’d as much as admitted to having a crush on Greg at one point. That didn’t bother Derek. He didn’t know a lot about love, but he knew it was a need for every person. With that he was comfortable. Sarah had really fallen for Derek. He was good looking, but so much more, she realized. He was coming of age physically, mentally, and socially. He was well respected in the martial arts, with weapons, and amongst the tacticians of the Militia leadership. He had taken under the wings of Greg and Ben. Most of his free time was spent with Greg. Since Greg really looked up to Ben, he often spoke of Ben’s motivations and goals in life. Secretly, Greg had found refuge in providing the fatherly role-model for Derek. His own son, Christian, would have been almost Derek’s age. It was a natural fit for both men. Greg only hoped he could teach him everything he knew in the limited time they had left. Greg figured the time to be limited as Derek was 18 and was going to be a leader in his own right, soon enough. In fact, Ben had recently promoted him to be in charge of a sniper squad. That would be a real learning experience for the boy. ***** Greg sat alone at the bar, his goal was to imbibe himself into oblivion. There was too much on his mind right now for him to think. The Outliners had group kings. They would need to research these beings and find out their weaknesses. He would no doubt be the spearhead of that operation. Also troubling him was this *hunter* he’d encountered. Who was he? What was he? What were his motives? Most importantly, was he friend or enemy to them? For better or worse, Greg had a gut instinct he was about to find out. As he sat and drank, a friendly face came up and had a seat next to him. Savannah was smiling, and looking forward to getting her hands on a drink of her own. The two friends had known each other for years. They were practically brother and sister. So, naturally, Greg had to spill the beans. “You would not believe who Derek is seeing!” Greg’s voice was full of glee. “If you say Sarah, I’m going to smack you.” Savannah said, nonchalantly. “You know about this?” “They’ve only been seeing each other for about two months now is all…” Savannah liked knowing things Greg didn’t. “Yeah, well evidently, they are seeing lots of each other…” Greg started. He wanted to gauge how much Savannah knew. He would have bet money on the odds that Savannah did not know about how close the kids had grown. Savannah did not look surprised, but she was known for a good poker face. “How so?” She asked. “You know how so…” Greg started. He liked this game. “Well when Ben and I were dating, the word ‘steady’ had already gone out of style, but that would describe it.” Greg grinned. Savannah didn’t know. “So, since you know so much, it won’t surprise you to know what I saw today…” “And that was what? Them kissing?” Savannah almost giggled like a schoolgirl. “That was part of it…” Greg admitted – ‘reluctantly.’ “Do tell, do tell!” Savannah encouraged. She had to get this scoop. “I don’t know if it would be proper…” Greg started. “Gregory Clark, don’t you torture me!” Savannah insisted. Greg gave in, the secret was too much to bear. “Well, I saw them… uh… you know…” “Making out?” Savannah’s eyes were wide with anticipation. “More than that. I accidentally barged into his room. Derek and Sarah were… uh… letting nature take its course.” Greg stumbled. “They weren’t?! They couldn’t be. They are only children!” Savannah said. “They are both over eighteen. And they seemed happy for that fact when I saw them!” Greg said. His restraints were diminishing with each swallow of the ‘Gentleman Jack.’ “I hope they were using… protection,” Savannah started. She was immediately cut off by a deep voice from behind. “Don’t worry about that, *mom*” It was Derek. Savannah turned beet red. “We are taking precautions.” Derek grinned big at them. Behind Derek, Sarah stood. Her hair was a mess. If everybody didn’t already know what they had been doing, Sarah’s appearance would have given it away. Savannah thought to herself that she really needed to talk to Sarah about that in private, sometime. Then Savannah realized she must have been staring, because Sarah was looking right at her. “Do you have a brush? I left mine in my room and didn’t want to have to go to that end of the hotel to get it.” Sarah said blankly. Savannah reached for her purse and produced the tool. Sarah got to work, fixing herself. She didn’t seem too embarrassed, Savannah thought. “So, is this the new gossip we will be hearing about for the next few weeks?” Derek chided. “’Actually, there is bigger news than two adults deciding to express themselves right now.” Greg started. “I found the King Outliner. We have him here. Now. He’s dead.” “Did you kill him?” Sarah asked. She was tying her hair back into a ponytail. Derek was playing with her shoulders as she did. Savannah sparkled and Greg tried to act as though he couldn’t see the PDA. “No, he was killed by someone else. We saw it happen, but we couldn’t identify him.” Greg said. “Why not?” Derek asked. “He wore a mask. He was dressed in black – head to toe. We were too far to identify him. But one thing we do know – he definitely worked alone.” “A single man killed an Outliner King? Those things must not be a tough as they are rumored to be.” Derek responded. “I wouldn’t say that,” Greg replied. “The king was larger, stronger and more aggressive than the others. He seemed to be smarter, too.” “He couldn’t have been too smart if one man killed him.” Sarah said. “This was no ordinary man. This man was well trained in the combat arts.” Greg said. “He moved well and used every tool and circumstance to his advantage. Only one time did we see him make a mistake.” “What was that?” Derek asked pointedly. “At one point, after he had dispatched the other Outliners, and he was facing the king alone; the hunter used an offensive posture, then waited to respond to the attack. If he was as well trained as he seemed, that is a mistake he should not have made.” Greg stated. “Why would he do that? Poor training?” Savannah asked. “I don’t think so. He was doing everything else by the book. He seemed to be a perfect warrior.” Greg said. “So the real question is, why would a seasoned warrior make such a rookie mistake?” Sarah surmised. “It seems to me the only reason would be that he was overconfident.” “I thought that, too. But that is too easy a conclusion. I get the feeling that he knew he was being watched. He wanted us to see the display. This was not the first time he had faced Outliners – or a king for that matter. I think he wanted us to assume he was getting overconfident.” Greg said. Normally, he wouldn’t have spoken so freely on a thought like this unless he was in council with Taje and Ben. However, the alcohol, and the fact that he was surrounded by only his closest friends, gave him no reason to keep things to himself. “So you think he might have been trying to throw you off – make you assume he was overconfident. Why would someone do that?” Sarah asked. “To disguise something. Probably either his true intent, or his true identity.” Savannah concluded. She was sharp. Not much got past her. “Probably to disguise both,” Derek reasoned. It made sense. “If that was his true intent in the first place.” ***** Taje led the group to its destination. He wanted to see an Outliner King for himself. Study the enemy leader. Tactics would be devised from what they would learn this day. Once Taje had learned of the hunter and the kings, he realized he wanted to know all about these kings – as much as this hunter had obviously known. After he developed appropriate strategies for dealing with the Outliners – and dealing with the kings – then he would shift his focus to this hunter. All in due time. The countryside was peaceful. The area – outside of what used to be Gallatin, TN – was obviously an Outliner stronghold. They were likely out hunting. They hunted in packs. Taje had shown reports to Ben several months back of Outliners in the African continent bringing down elephants, out-dueling prides of lions, and taking other large game. These Outliners had commandeered a barn as a makeshift shelter. Taje made a note in his notebook regarding the horse and cow bones near the den. All was quiet. Too quiet. ***** Another attack. When would these Outliners learn that they couldn’t breach the walls? Greg was almost annoyed at the latest news. He grabbed an AR-15 rifle and made his way to the wall with Ben. They would get to take part in the target practice today. Too bad Taje wasn’t here – he liked to target practice, as well. Taje had been gone two days. He’d be back in two more. Greg hoped he would learn a lot from observing the Outliners. Greg reached the top and spotted the Outliners immediately. He began taking shot after shot. Ben followed suit. Greg noted that he was nearly a match for Ben now. Rarely did either man need a second shot. Outliners were going down in bunches. Then Greg heard the scream. Savannah had been the one to scream. But it was not in pain – Ben realized that immediately. This was shock, horror. What in the blazes could horrify her now? They had seen everything. EVERYTHING! Then Ben saw it. Greg saw it, too. Derek and Sarah ran up to see it, just in time. An Outliner King. With a makeshift spear. Taje’s head was on the end of the spear. The spear was standing vertically impaled in the ground just outside the compound. Ben vomited… |
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Chapter 15 Ben Hill looked at his feet. The funeral processional was passing by. Savannah stood next to him holding his hand. She was crying softly. Tears streaked down Ben’s face. Several feet away, Greg looked blankly into the processional. His thousand-yard-stare was nearing a state of perfection. He had experienced so much loss. He held on to Nathan, who looked as though he did not know what to do. Right between Greg and Ben was Derek. He and Sarah were holding hands. If only he’d been there, he thought. He could have made a difference. He always made a difference these days. People needed him, and Sarah realized that. It’s probably what attracted her to him. Derek resolved then and there to always make a difference. ***** This is what it’s like to be Ben Hill right now: You know what’s coming. Two hours from now there is a meeting scheduled. A General from Washington will be on the phone and that is what served as your proof. This will be a christening. You will now be responsible for over a thousand people. You will have responsibilities you never dreamed of. You realized you never asked for this – any of it. That’s what makes you perfect for it. No agendas. No desire for promotion. No politics. None of the crap that is normally associated with leadership. You realize all these things. Then you realize that people will look to you for answers. Answers you don’t have. And you will have to find out. And you will have to tell them things they don’t want to hear and things you don’t want to say. You will have the most unpleasant of things dumped in your lap. You and you alone will have this responsibility. The weight of the responsibility is too much for you. And you realize it. But you also realize you have something Taje never had. Something few others will ever have. You have Savannah. Savannah is everything to you. And you are the world to her. You will be able to lean on her, and depend on her. Depend. Who can you really depend on? Greg. That much is certain. He will be there for you, too. And everybody here listens to either you or him. That’s all you will need. And with this thought, you realize, this new job will be a piece of cake. You decide right then and there to go with your gut. That’s what got you here in the first place. And here is a meeting in a few hours in which you will be named Lt. Colonel for all of Tennessee. And that will be good. ***** “Granddad, isn’t that a bit arrogant of Ben?” Calista asked. She was grinning ear to ear as she knew this was a good question. “I’m simply telling you what was being thought. Arrogant or not, every man put in a place of leadership has to find his own motivation to do the job to the best of his ability.” The elder said. “So how good a leader was Ben? And where were you in all this?” Kyle asked. “Listen carefully, you will learn the answer to both questions.” ***** Friday, August 3, 2012 – Nashville, TN War. It was on all sides. Colonists had been forced deep into shelter. The HHQ had been overrun and later used as a hive for breeding more Outliners. Some blamed Ben for this, but not many. The dead Outliner king provided much information – not the least of which was the Kings had a well-developed hormonal gland above the base of the tail that they suspected was responsible for the secretion of pheromones. These pheromones were used as an almost telepathic communication. The kings were smart. They had roughly the intelligence of some primates. But this intelligence, and the pheromone sac, did not develop until after their third year. That was the magic number – three years. That’s how long the females took to reach breeding age. Males that were not kings had recessed pheromone glands and these could be activated in outstanding cases. This was a function of their survival. The kings had ‘organized’ together. In reality, this was instinct, too. There was a threat. No one clan could deal with it. So the clans would work together. Other locations in the US had reported similar behavior at the onset of this particular engagement. So one day, tens of thousands of Outliners showed up at the gates of HHQ. Most got out alive, as this possibility had been covered in planning and preparation. Only a few soldiers who covered as people fled were killed. Now the survivors congregated at the farm housing complexes they had established throughout the region. On this particular day, Greg was furious. He had just left an argument with Dan over Ben’s responsibility for getting them into this mess. Dan had been playing the blame game. Greg had naturally taken up for his friend. But in this, he felt he was right as well. Nobody could have prevented the overrun. The only thing that really got to Dan was the fact that the Outliners had used their former residence as a breeding hive. That was rubbing it in! Greg had been worked into a frenzy. He took his sword and his Glock and went to a nearby farm, where he knew there was a small clan of Outliners. The reason was obvious. Steel flashed. Greg was not feeling particularly gracious today. The Outliner in front of him was missing his right arm. Greg had known better than to take on an entire clan at once – but there was nothing wrong with picking them off one at a time. The Outliner stabbed his tail straight ahead. Greg shifted to the right and hacked at the barb. Just missed! Greg returned to side guard – sword pointed up, held at ear level like a baseball bat. The Outliner lunged with its claws. The eight inch daggers at fingers’ end were aimed at Greg’s throat. Another sidestep. Another slash. This slash caught the Outliner’s hand and severed it at the wrist. Greg kicked. The Outliner flew back and rolled on the ground, down a small ravine and into a creek. Greg leapt down the creek bank. He was so focused on the wounded Outliner that he didn’t see the eyes staring at him from his right in a thicket. Greg slashed down, the first basic strike one learned in Iaido. The strike proved why it was the first taught – it was easy and got results. The result this time was a dead Outliner. And a furious clan standing all around Greg. The monsters advanced slowly, gauging their prey. Greg backpedaled up the bank and onto the flat ground. He needed distance and he needed it fast. The Outliners advanced. Greg drew the pistol. Double tap. Dead Outliner. Eight more moving toward him. Greg was moving and shooting. He needed distance. He backed up… and right into something solid. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d run into. The growl, bad breath, and sharp feel gave it away. Greg spun and fired at the point-blank Outliner. Its head exploded. Problem was, there were four more coming. ‘Oh great,’ Greg thought. ‘Now there’s twelve of them. Now I’ve done it.’ Greg fired again and another Outliner went down. Eleven rounds left in the G22. Nine rounds left. Ten Outliners. This wasn’t good, but might be manageable. Distance, Greg scurried to maintain distance. The two Outliners closest to him lunged. It took him seven shots to take them both out. Problem was, the other group from the creek had closed the distance. A tail thrust caught Greg in the thigh. He went down… hard. Greg looked up and saw the group – eight of them – encircling him. This was it. Greg resolved to go down in the blaze of glory. He fired until the Glock was empty. His sword began flashing. The six remaining Outliners closed. The sword was knocked from Greg’s hand. Greg stood and prepared to go to battle with his hands. He would really do his best and take them out. A howl. Not Outliner. The Outliners look up. Another howl. Definitely human. Greg executed a shoulder throw on the nearest Outliner. He saw a man in black. The mask. It was the hunter! The thrown Outliner clawed at Greg’s thigh and sent him to the ground. A glint. The Outliner that had Greg held down suddenly slumped over, a spear showing through his head. Then Greg played witness to a sudden, violent and spectacular display. The hunter did not back up, he advanced. His spear blades were everywhere. They became a whirling vortex of lethality. Kicks flashed. Thrusts rang true. Two Outliners were immediately killed. The hunter spun into the third and opened him up from sternum to groin. As the strike was complete, the fourth Outliner attacked the hunter’s arm. The spear clattered to the ground. Without hesitating the hunter spun over the ground where the sword lay. In a continuous motion, and without breaking the flow of the fight, the hunter commandeered the blade and was back into action. Greg thought the hunter was good with a spear. It became obvious that his true weapon was the sword. Greg realized that the sword was probably the first weapon this man had learned. The sword was turned over and through an Outliner. The hunter rotated the blade inside the monster and side-slashed. The side slash did two things – open up the impaled demon sideways, and the slash cut the last Outliner in half horizontally, just below the shoulders. The hunter looked about, checking for other Outliners. None. He performed chiburi to sling the Outliner blood from the blade. Then he carefully laid the blade down, next to Greg. Gathering his spear, the hunter was off in a flash. Greg couldn’t have followed if he had wanted to. He was in pain. He could walk – gingerly. He would make it back to his vehicle and get back to the shelter. ***** “What happened to you?” Savannah asked incredulously. She was looking at Greg, who had seen better days. “A little… mishap,” Greg replied. “You look injured!” “Just a few scratches,” Greg replied. Greg relayed the story to Savannah as they headed for medical help. “So the Hunter was there. Why do you think he saved you?” She asked. “I don’t know.” Greg only answered half-heartedly. He just realized there was something about the Hunter’s fighting style. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. And what was with the sword skill? He thought he knew all of the decent swordsmen left – and there weren’t many of them. Heck, he’d trained half of them! “Either he wants to be some kind of vigilante, or savior. I’m not sure what he wants to accomplish with either strategy.” Savannah said. “Maybe he just thrives on the attention.” Derek said as he walked up. “Who are we talking about anyways?” “That ‘Hunter.’ He saved Greg’s life earlier.” Savannah said as she turned to see the young man. “I see. You look beat up, Greg.” Derek said. “Yeah, I was stupid – took on too many Outliners,” Greg said, obviously in pain. “Take me with you next time and you won’t need help from the Hunter guy.” “Just had to go and blow off steam. I don’t usually invite people to help me do that.” Greg replied. “You just get back from the gym? You’re all sweaty and dirty.” “Nah – just working on some sword moves. I’m going to beat you next time we spar!” Derek joked. But it was far from a joke. He was the only one who could hang with Greg for more than just a handful of blows. As often as not, he could score points on Greg. Last class he’d scored six points on Greg to Greg’s ten. He was getting close and Greg knew it. “Maybe,” Greg said. “But I can still take you in jiu-jitsu.” “Who cares about that? People don’t need it as much now as the other arts. You can’t grapple with those monsters.” Derek said. This time he was more serious. And he had a point. “True enough. But one day we will be rid of the Outliners and folks will again need to protect themselves from predatory people. Then Jiu-jitsu will be important again.” Greg reminded himself that Derek needed foundations in history. The boy was good in physical things, but his mind was still in need of good education. “Yeah, you’re right. Otherwise we will repeat the mistakes of the past – like during the 1960’s, 70’s, and 80’s when most people in the martial arts world didn’t think grappling was practical in real self defense. Boy did they get a wake-up call.” Derek said. So he had been studying, Greg thought. The two went on and on. Savannah listened for a while, then excused herself to go and relieve Ben from having to watch their daughter, Megan. Through gossip, tales, and stories, the mystique of the Hunter was growing in the colony. Stories built on stories. Some were true. Many were stretched. Nevertheless, the legend grew. It gave hope to many who would otherwise have had none. Ben acclimated well to his role as leader of the Nashville area. He made sure to teach everything he could to Greg, since he was obviously second in command now. He also mentored Dan – who was now third in line – and Derek, who was acting as special assistant to Greg. Greg healed quickly. He came to realize he could not afford to be as irresponsible in the future. The fates of those in the colony now depended on him. This was a hard burden, though. His personal losses haunted him. They would for the rest of his life. Derek matured into a man before everyone’s eyes. Before anyone realized it, he was leading all combat arts instruction except for Greg’s sword classes. He married Sarah in October. But most importantly, he kept his secret. If anyone found out… well, he would just have to make sure nobody found out… |
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Chapter 16 Thursday, November 14, 2013 – Nashville, TN It had finally happened. Ben had been called up by the Joint Chiefs. He would become one of them. The panel’s role had changed dramatically in the last five years. They now simply coordinated Militia efforts. There was no more ‘military,’ as such. All forces were militia – both in the US, and abroad. A new threat had come up – severe Biter outbreaks near the comet crash sites. Ben had been tasked with coming up with solutions by the joint chiefs. He had given the simple lure and bomb method that he and the Tennessee Militia had used years ago as a template, then with focused fire to destroy the remaining virus on the comet fragments. It had worked. He was called up to replace a retiring former General of the Air Force. The legend of the Hunter had grown to epic proportions. All over the globe, sightings were reported almost daily. Obviously, there were copycats at work, for no man could be in all these different places at once. But only the Hunter of Middle Tennessee never got killed by the Outliners. All of the other fake Hunters eventually were bested – usually when groups of Outliners attacked. Not the one in Tennessee. This one was for real. Greg had promoted Derek to be his right hand man once Ben left. This did not sit well with Dan, who immediately left the Tennessee Militia outright. Greg, Dan, and the other officers worked hard to keep the balance and order they had fought for. On every front, the Outliners were being pushed back and eradicated. Under a brilliant strategy by Derek, the Hotel Headquarters was being retaken: The initial attacks had come just before dawn. Using a modified phalanx formation which had been suggested by Derek, and came complete with riot shields complete with rifle supports, the soldiers could fire, be protected from Outliner attacks, and advance all at the same time. Derek had seen the movie “300” and it had sparked an interest in ancient warfare. He had pored over all sorts of military records and strategies. He knew that they would be able to do this without the Hunter’s help. Today, however, the Tennessee Militia would have help. The Hunter knew that the help would be mostly moral. But he would fight – in his own way. He would rally the TM to the cause of taking back what was theirs. He would show them how to win in open combat again. Today’s battle took place in the eyes of the Hunter. He had joined the fray just before dawn himself, shortly after Derek’s troops began the flanking attack to seal the Outliners inside the HHQ. The Hunter was invisible. He wore black, except for the helmet. Inside the Helmet, in his right ear was an earpiece. It was connected to an Ipod which had hundreds of old songs for the Hunter to listen to while he played with these monsters today. The music provided him some clarity and motivation. First song up was “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC. If that didn’t wake you up, then you were dead… or undead. The Hunter grabbed a rope and climbed to the top of the wall. He could hear the Outliners on the other side. They were waking, in a state of panic and confusion. That would change when the king saw the battle and alerted them through his scents of what to do. The Hunter knew his melee time would be limited. He mentally checked the fact that he had to keep moving and stay clear of the TM as well, just in case. When he reached the top, the Hunter let out a feral howl. It was an open invitation to the Outliners, in their own perverse language, to a fight. A fight they could not win. The Outliners looked up to see him. The one closest to him got an arrow through his eye as a reward. Another arrow… and another kill. This was almost too easy. Let’s get in close, where it gets fun, the Hunter thinks to himself. “Thunderstruck” is off. New track – “Paradise City” by Guns ‘n’ Roses. Spear gets thrown toward the mob of Outliners. One demon stabbed through the throat. Damn. Off by three inches. Not bad for forty feet away, but that must be improved. The spear is retrieved. The monsters wail. They converge. Whirling energy becomes lethal. One down. Two down. Three down. When will they realize that swarming is not always the answer? Oh wait, they can’t reason. Only the king can do that. The Hunter was deep in thought. The music was fast-paced to keep him on his toes. The Hunter started making his way inside. ***** Greg saw that the Hunter was there. His perch was good, he thought. “Beta squad, this is Alpha-leader. Be advised the Hunter is in the courtyard and fighting. Do not mistake for an enemy. Repeat, Hunter is here. He is helping. Be advised.” Greg said into his radio. He only hoped Derek got the message. ***** The Hunter fought to a clearing. Three Outliner males were ‘guarding’ the door. He drew his pistol ad fired exactly three times, holstering the pistol immediately after the third shot. All three Outliners were down. They fought so… uncivilized, the Hunter thought. The door was unlocked. Inside, there were multiple female Outliners. Most had very young or were expecting soon. That’s why this room was guarded. They had young and the other vulnerable in here. From a crouch, the Hunter decided what needed to be done. He closed the door back quietly so as not to disturb the occupants. He needed more modern explosives for this objective, and he had none. However, he knew who would. ***** Greg was keeping watch over the progress. The phalanx formation was doing its job. All lines were advancing. Casualties in each group were minor, if any at all. Each soldier had an AR rifle attached with a swivel to the right side (or left side, in some cases) to the riot shield. The riot shields were plexiglass, so the soldiers could see through the shield to view the enemy. Derek’s group was advancing a bit more quickly than Greg’s. From Greg’s viewpoint, they seemed a bit better trained on the phalanx attacks, defenses, and movements. He made a mental note on that – obviously, Derek had spent some time training his people more than the required preparations. Glancing to the group, Greg noticed that Sarah was actually leading Derek’s group – Beta-group. From Greg’s vantage point, he could not see Derek. Perhaps he was in a perch like Greg himself was, radioing or signaling in commands. Beta-group had moved up to the edge of the Hotel. The standing orders had been to regroup as a single unit when the hotel was reached. Instead of just waiting, the Beta-group was taking action to help the Alpha-group. Two lines of soldiers – one standing and one kneeling – formed along the edge of the hotel. They began firing at the hordes of Outliners that were fighting Alpha-group. With the new assistance, Alpha-group began advancing at normal walking speed. Outliners were being shredded en masse. In an almost predictable pattern, an individual Outliner would attack at the shields – typically with a leaping attack – and get cut down with rifle fire from almost point-blank range. The riot shields were holding up well. There were fewer than a dozen Outliners left in the courtyard area when Greg saw a glint of metal appear from the entryway. It was the Hunter. He was looking straight at Greg. Greg raised an arm to acknowledge that he saw the Hunter. The Hunter drew a box with his fingers in the air in front of him. He then pointed multiple times into the middle of the box, immediately making a monster look. Then he pointed to himself and made a hand-grenade throwing motion, ending with an explosion motion from the box area. Greg realized immediately that the Hunter was looking to blow up a room full of Outliners – but he needed the explosives. Greg radioed down to the field commander and had them take the Hunter a couple of Hand grenades. There was some risk, but so far the Hunter had only killed Outliners. And Greg felt he owed the man – if the Hunter was, indeed, a man – some courtesy for having saved his life. The Hunter took the grenades from the soldier’s hand and disappeared into the building. A distinct boom was heard moments later. Greg surmised that the Hunter had accomplished that task, so he ordered the soldiers into the building. The operation would be simple – clear each room and leave two soldiers to stand guard in each cleared room. Alpha-group would take the first floor and odd-numbered floors after that, Beta-group would take the even-numbered floors. Both teams would take the top floor – floor seven – together. ***** The Hunter stood at the bottom of the stairwell. He would make his way up soon enough. He knew the stronger warriors would be higher up – he didn’t know how he knew – he just knew. The music played another upbeat song in his ear. This was going to be the end – at least in this area. The highest concentration of monsters was right here. He expected a king. Maybe two kings. That would be a joy. The Hunter heard Beta-group coming his way. He was off in an instant. The second floor had some Outliners. He was scanning the group – which included five or so coming his way – when he saw something. There was a king on this floor. This was good! A challenge! Bow out, the Hunter shot down the first two of the group that was coming at him before he had to move to a close-range weapon. His spear came up. Spinning sideways slashes took out one, two, three of the Outliners. The fourth retreated a bit. That made the Hunter curious. Outliners did not retreat. Then he realized why. A group of more than twenty Outliners was mobilizing behind the one tht had retreated. The Hunter glanced about. Five was one thing, but twenty would need different tactics. There – a room! The door opened and there were three Outliners in here – two mothers with young and one who would have soon joined them as a mother. Instead, she joined them in death. Blades flashed. Heads rolled. Young monsters wailed. Young monsters went silent. There was no moral qualm here. The Hunter realized that these young would soon be full sized Outliners and those are nothing but killing machines. His only regret was cutting into the floor with the down-strokes. That carpet would need to be replaced. Then he remembered – the whole building would be demolished. This attack was just to build morale and get used to the new fighting methods. The Hunter moved swiftly. He piled the bodies up near the door. Those coming in would have to climb over the dead. It would slow them, if only a bit. In a blur of motion, the Hunter smashed the window out. He tied a rope to the bed frame and tossed the free end out the window – his escape route should he need one. Outliners roared at the door. They smelled their dead young. They needed to kill the threat. The threat was probably good to eat! The threat would have been good to eat – had he been possible to kill. Not this day. Not to these Outliners. The Hunter had killed a dozen – one at a time – until there was a break in the attack. He waited, motionless. Listening. Outside, he heard gunfire. Beta-group! Moving swiftly, he peeked out the door. Beta-group was forming their phalanx. Shots rang out. They were headed for the king. Their flanks would be exposed by the Outliners that were leaving the fight with the Hunter. No – the phalanx members realized that and covered their sides as they had been taught. There were twenty riflemen here. The Hunter made himself visible. A cheer went up from some of the phalanx of Beta-group. They made sure not to fire in his direction. There would be no need to do so – the Hunter was taking the Outliners out left and right – making his way toward the phalanx. As the last of the Outliners fell to the Hunter, the cheer went up again from Beta-group. There were more to destroy here – and the conference room would prove difficult, they knew – but to see a man doing it without the weapons and the capabilities they had was always reassuring. Beta-group cleared room after room – saving the conference room for last. It was in this room the Hunter had seen the Outliner king. Then they regrouped for the final confrontation on this level. The Hunter stayed to the left of the phalanx. Shot after shot. Monster after monster went down. The Outliners were clearly overmatched. As they came down to the last handful – including the king – the group clearly had the momentum. Moving in for victory, they heard a voice… “STOP!!!” Yelled the Hunter. The voice sounded almost familiar. “He’s mine!” the final words were a whisper. A whisper louder than any shout. The Hunter stepped forward and moved his spear into middle-aggressive fighting position. It wouldn’t stay there long. There were only two Outliners left other than the king. The Hunter did not want to have a long battle with them. His pistol came free of the holster. Two shots. Two dead monsters. A king left. A very angry king. The Hunter dropped his spear. Several of Beta-group gasped. Weapons were trained on the king. A knife. A bowie knife. The Hunter was going to face this eight-foot tall monster with a foot and a half long blade. In the end it wouldn’t matter. In the end death is death; how one gets there is merely in the details. A leap. Predictable. Expected. Countered! The knife came up and into the abdomen of the monster king. However, the momentum of the beast knocked both to the floor. Keeping the monster’s head down – dangerously close to his own abdomen, the Hunter put his feet on the hips of the king. Pushing with the feet and pulling the head down had the desired effect. The monster flipped – off of the Hunter and onto his own back. The Hunter followed the motion directly with a backward roll. The net effect was what appeared to be a very smooth reversal from the bottom to the top by the Hunter. The Hunter used his forearm across the side of the face of the king to force him to turn his head to the left. With his right hand, the Hunter raised his knife for victory. Victory was put on hold for a moment as the claws of the left paw of the monster raked the facemask of the Hunter – knocking him off and onto the floor. Both combatants were quick to their feet. The monster half-crouched, arms spread, claws extended, teeth bared, tail whipping. The Hunter was in almost a boxer’s stance. The knife was flipped to point blade down. Left hand out in front in a measuring and defensive position. Motion. Combatants charged. At the last moment, the Hunter changed his angle and darted past the king. Beta-group members gasped. Then they saw the reason why the Hunter had changed course. An open wound to the chest of the beast. The monster was gasping for air now. The slash had been clean. They would find out later that it had reached the lung of the great beast. But this king was far from dead and even farther from quitting. Again they charged one another. This time, they met head-to-head. A stab to the shoulder area had momentarily seized the blade of the Hunter’s knife. The Hunter’s left hand had caught the right paw of the monster. The Hunter was a large man – well over six feet and some 220 pounds, by the estimates of some of Beta-group. But the monster dwarfed him in size – eight feet plus, and an estimated 350 pounds made this contest one sided. He pushed the Hunter back. Back all the way to the wall. Then the blade came free. A tail stabbed straight out, over the monster’s shoulder, aimed at the Hunter’s head. The Hunter’s head disappeared. The Hunter had dropped straight down to avoid the deadly stab of the barb-tipped tail. Reaching up with his left hand, he caught hold of the tail, above the barb, as the monster tried to pull it out of the wall. A war cry and a slash severed the end of the tail. The Hunter held it in his left hand in much the same manner he held the knife in his right – tip pointed down. The monster king reeled back in pain. Space. The Hunter welcomed it. He adjusted his grip on his new weapon and came at his enemy. Slashes. Stab. The Hunter was a blur of motion. Attacking motion. The monster was fighting back, but was being moved backward by the onslaught. He hit wall. The Hunter’s left hand stabbed out with the barb and caught the right paw of the monster – pinning it to the wall. The monster clutched at his pinned arm with his free one, but the Hunter was quicker. Using both hands, the Hunter pushed the left arm of the king back to the other side, so that the king was spread out. Bringing the knife up, the Hunter pinned the other arm to the wall with the Bowie knife. The Outliner roared and howled. The Hunter turned his back, and walked over to his dropped spear. A cheer came up from Beta-group. They were watching this match intently. A gasp! The king had freed himself and leapt onto the back of the Hunter, biting and clawing. A bite landed cleanly on the left shoulder of the Hunter. The Hunter did not yell out. He simply grasped his biting enemy and moved backward – slamming him into the wall. Drywall cracked and split from the impact. The Hunter bent forward – tugging with his arms at the Outliner king on his back. Hip throw and a beauty. The Hunter immediately stepped down – hard – onto the neck of the monster. The monster clawed at his leg with bloody arms. The Hunter saw his knife on the ground – within reach. This time he was quick. The knife came up and down quickly. Headshot. The monster groaned his last. A quick slash, left to right neatly removed the head from the twitching body. This fight was over. Cheers from Beta-group. As the cheers died down, a soldier called out; “Who are you?!” The Hunter tilted his mask up – showing his face to the group. An even louder cheer went up form the soldiers. An AR was tossed to the Hunter, who had put his mask back in place. The Hunter gathered his weapons, including his new one – the tail barb of the Outliner king and put them back in place. ***** There were no more kings in this building. Evidently, they had fought with one another until only one was left. The rest of the Outliners went pretty quickly. There were only two casualties on the human side, plus the wounds suffered by the Hunter. Beta-group had not told Alpha-group the identity of the Hunter. Several from the group were trying to get the ones who knew to tell them. Greg was in on the action – claiming to need to know for tactical purposes. Then a hush fell over the group. Greg looked up and saw why. From a second-story ledge, the Hunter appeared. His rifle was slung over one shoulder and his spear over the other. He held one arm held up to motion to the group of soldiers to stay quiet. They did. With his left hand, the Hunter removed his mask. Greg realized immediately why Beta-group had stayed silent as to the identity of the Hunter… |
Derek was absent on the first encounter. His questions lead us to believe he knows more about the motives, given as "if that was his true intent" a foreshadow to the icon the hunter has become (possible other motive for the disquise, as a man I an be killed, but as a symbol I can inspire). He was curious as to what the "mistake" that the hunter made, a critical word from his mentor perhaps. Derek has the skills, I think he has the build. It was suggested he knew he was being watched and was showing off, seeking fatherly approval from his mentor perhaps? Derek would have had a full night to return to the camp after the killing of the first king, the excitment and energy of that encounter would explain the need for "release" with his lady friend. She could be simply helping him cover up his absence, as commented on how she should know better than to have that FF Look, but then asked for a brush, so nobody missed it :). I don't believe you've told us about Derek and the Hunter at the same time/place. The natural ability of Derek in the first real fight was pretty intense. He's become the 2nd best or best at almost all combat. The hunter was known to Beta squad enough they would arm him. Comments were made that Derek was absent from the battle, but most likely directing it from a distance. He observed the formation being use, and the flaw in the pattern, noted their success at covering the flank, and moved on. That being said, could just be an effective red herring to toss us off. Although, if Derek, I would buy his 'ninja-like' abilities with all that we've been told about him...the last 2/3 of the text has made this very believable. Well done either way. I've been wrong before, and wll be ok if I am this time. Sleeping pill kicked in, having spelling and other errors, i'll edit this again for clarity. Just my thoughts at the moment. |
No I think it's Derek also. I love the story!
