Originally Posted By Usagi: Originally Posted By lio: Michael Jackson, you know it's true. Damn. Got figured out!   ETA- Actually, that gives me an idea...

Michael Jackson would be able to walk unattacked through the hordes of aliens and undead...I mean, how do you tell them apart?

Chapter 17


“Why would you do something like that?!” Greg screamed more than he asked.

“I just thought…”

“NO! You didn’t think. You just acted. That was foolish, irresponsible, and dangerous! I can’t believe you.” Greg was really irate.

“Will you just listen to me for a moment?” came the reply from the black-clad figure.

“No – it’s you who needs to listen to me. What were you thinking? You could have been killed. Worse yet, you could have started a copycat movement here and that copycat might have been killed. How would you have felt if that happened?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?”

“No. I don’t. Enlighten me.” Greg slammed down into a chair. This he had to hear!

“You have taught me for the past few years the following: Anyone can tell. A teacher instructs. A good teacher shows. A great teacher inspires. All I was doing was inspiring the others. I was doing what you taught me.” Derek said. He looked down at his black pants and the mask in his hand.

The wind was gone from Greg’s sails. His own teaching. He had never looked at it that way. “I don’t know what to say…”

“I know you are upset because you think I might have been in danger. You saw me in action. Was I ever?”

“That’s not fair. You could have been,” was Greg’s response.

“No more than you could have been in that field where I saved you.” Derek said.

“True. Very true. But that’s why I’m mad. I’m mad at me. I’m mad because I have taught you my imperfections.” Greg realized at that moment the entirety of the situation – including the source of his anger.

“You taught me. It doesn’t mean I learned that lesson.” Derek said.

“What do you mean?”

“You go off alone – to blow off steam. You fight to get your release. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how you do things.”

“What’s your point?” Greg asked.

“I donned this mask to inspire – not blow off steam. I wanted to give people something to believe in. I didn’t do it out of anger…” Derek was cut off.

“You did it out of leadership.” Greg realized. And so it was. It was complete and as perfect a plan as he could have ever devised himself.

Just then, Sarah burst into the room.

“Ah, your ‘release!’” Greg laughed.

Derek laughed, too – but Sarah never caught on.

“Greg. Ben is on the radio for you. I think it’s important!” Sarah announced.


*****


The plane was cold. Too cold for Derek’s liking. Too cold for Greg, too. Some of the top soldiers from the Tennessee Militia were in the plane – all 150 of them. Their group had been tapped by Ben to go overseas. Their destination was Japan. They would combat the remaining Outliners there. They would have a real military air support.

The mission was simple – “herd” the monsters into a large makeshift pen so the Aircraft could bomb them all at once! This was a great relief. The phalanx formation had gained the respect of the joint chiefs and information on how to implement it would be passed to all Americans and friendly countries pronto.


*****


Friday, November 22, 2013 – Nagano, Japan

“We only had two days to train and now we have to move out?” Derek asked incredulously.

“It was now or never. Japan cannot afford to drop nukes on all of the towns like they did to Tokyo.” Greg said. “The concentration level was high in Nagano and they need to preserve the city, so it’s time to move.”

“At least the phalanx is easy to learn.” Derek said, with some hope in his voice.

Both men stepped into their vehicle. They rode with the main commander of the Japanese Ground Defense Force – Ichihara-Sensei, and the Japanese driver and interpreter – Suzuki-San.

Ichihara spoke quickly to the interpreter, who turned and asked, “The General would like to ask politely why your second in command chooses to wear symbols from the history of our country?”

“Is the honorable General specifically asking about my mask?” Derek asked.

Japanese speech. If Greg could have recognized some of it, they would have had to speak much more slowly for him to do so.

“Yes, the General is curious about the mask. It resembles those worn by our ancient Samurai. Similar masks can be seen in our museums. Why do you choose to wear a relic? From a country other than your own?” Suzuki asked.

“It’s complicated.” Derek said.

“He means that he does it to inspire his troops.” Greg added quickly so as not to appear impolite.

More Japanese chatter. “How does this inspire your troops? Are they steeped in Japanese history?”

“No. They find it inspiring when I take the Outliners on without firearms.” Derek said. “They then realize that these monsters are dangerous, but mortal.”

“It is important to motivate, but the General questions whether you can actually win a fight with an Outliner without a rifle or pistol. This has not been done before. There are only rumors of a… how do you say? Hunter? But we are too realistic to believe that such an individual actually exists.” Ichihara said through Suzuki.

Derek and Greg exchanged glances, then laughter.

“Why do you find this funny? The General does not like to be mocked!” Suzuki warned.

“No disrespect meant to the Honorable General. But my Lieutenant here is, in fact the very Hunter you have heard of. I only found this out last week myself.” Greg said.

Excited Japanese chatter. “General Ichihara would like to humbly ask how you fight the monsters without pistol or rifle?” Suzuki translated.

“Katana. Morote naginata (read – sword & double spear).” Derek replied in the Japanese tongue.  

“Morote naginata?” The General asked directly.

“Hai, Ichihara Sensei (yes, Honorable General)!” Derek replied with a bow of the head. It was about all of the Japanese he knew.

More Japanese chatter. Suzuki turned, keeping his eyes on the road; “the General would like to humbly ask for a demonstration. He would like you to understand this is to satisfy his own curiosity. He would never think to challenge the validity of your claim!”

“Sure. I’m game. Tell him to watch very closely. It will be quick.” Derek added.

“Certainly. Naturally, a skilled warrior must quickly dispatch a dangerous enemy.” Suzuki said after a brief consultation with the General.

“With all due respect to the General,” Greg stated. “It will be over quickly because the regular Outliners do not pose much of a challenge to the young Lieutenant.”

This time the chatter bordered on incredulity. “How can this be? They are very dangerous!” Suzuki said.

“I thought so myself. And in large groups they are,” Greg spoke slowly and evenly so Suzuki could relay to the General in their own language. “But this young one has defeated several Outliner kings in combat with only his blades.”

More chatter. It seemed to Derek as though they were giddy as schoolgirls. Why shouldn’t they be? The were here, finding out in person about the world’s hero. The legend of the Hunter had grown much more than he had ever hoped.

“The Honorable General is having difficulty accepting your claims simply due to his experience against this noble enemy in combat. He means no disrespect. You have certainly engaged his interest! May we see a display? This building here is a likely location.” Suzuki said. He slowed the vehicle.

“Sure. Please let me put on my gear.” Derek said.

The vehicle came to a stop and Derek stepped out in his full Hunter attire. As if on command, two Outliners emerged from a nearby abandoned building. Derek advanced at a brisk walk, drawing his spear.

The Outliners crouched and advanced.

Derek – completely in the Hunter garb – ran at them.

The distance closed.

A blade flashed – right to left.

Derek ran to the outside of the Outliners, on their right.

A head hit the ground. The body of the Outliner that used to possess that head twitched briefly.

Derek threw his spear to the ground. Drawing his knife, he made up his mind to show this General exactly who the Hunter was.

The second Outliner leapt at Derek, the Hunter. Derek leapt at the Outliner. The clash brought the combatants to the ground. Derek reversed the position and stood up. He reversed his grip on the knife.

The Outliner whipped his tail at Derek’s leg. Derek simply picked up his foot and let the tail pass underfoot. A quick lunge downward and he caught the tail in his left hand. An even quicker lunge of his right hand allowed the knife to pass through the Outliner’s tail – severing the barb.

The Outliner howled in pain as it scrambled to its feet. Derek slashed out, right to left, and gave the Outliner another reason to howl in pain. The Outliner’s left arm fell to the ground. In a smooth motion, Derek followed up with a left to right stroke that opened up the Outliner’s throat – so no howl ever came.

With a backhanded move, Derek grabbed the back of the head of the Outliner and pushed him to the ground. A final stab downward ended the life of the Outliner.

Just then, Greg heard a noise coming from a nearby building. He and Derek rushed to discover what was causing the commotion. It sounded like a young Outliner in pain… terrible pain. The howls were panicked. There was also a strange groaning – unearthly. Greg and Derek reached the door of the building and flattened themselves to either side, pistols drawn.

The men entered cautiously, sweeping the room. Nothing. The sounds were coming from deeper in the building. They moved into the room. The sight would haunt both men the rest of their respective lives.

A certain former pop singer was in the room. So was a young Outliner. The small monster was being held – face down – on a table. The multi-platinum artist had a horribly disfigured face – not from age or injury; not from infection of the mutant space virus – but disfigured from the multiple surgeries endured during years of excess and misguided attempts at artificially preserving a “youthful” look. The former superstar was assaulting the poor creature in a sexual manner.

The two men looked at each other in surprise and disgust. Surprised – not at the inhumane actions of the former singer – but at the fact that he was still alive; and up to his old antics. Fortunately, there were no small children around.

“I’ll handle this.” Greg said solemnly.

Greg pointed the pistol and entered. The dancer extraordinaire turned to see him. “This is not what it looks like…” he/she/it began to say.

BANG.

“Nope, it’s not.” Greg said. Boy – would he have a story to tell Ben and Savannah when he got back! Greg went over and pointed the Glock at the whimpering young monster.

BANG.

Greg hated that its life had to end on such a horrific note. But, the way he saw it, he really had put this miserable creature out of its misery. He’d killed an Outliner, too!



*****


At the forward command center, Derek looked around. He alone was dressed in black. All of the US Forces were in camouflage. The Japanese were in their own camouflage battle dress. Some of the Japanese looked at him with a funny smirk, as if to say ‘why is he dressed different?’ The US soldiers, when seeing the Japanese do this, would look at one another and nod knowingly with a sly smile.

Standing at the front of the lines, Greg addressed the group. Suzuki was beside him translating at every pause. “Men, this is our time. We take back what is ours! And, to guarantee our victory, I present… The Hunter!”

A massive gasp. In their usual custom, the Japanese were much more reserved than the Americans would have been. Derek walked out in his Hunter garb. He held his AR-15 up in his right hand and his spear in his left.

Derek the Hunter jumped down off of the stone structure Greg had been using as a makeshift podium. The soldiers ran to follow, lifting their riot shields as they went. Commanders barked out orders and the soldiers formed into their respective phalanxes.

The men and machines – for there were dozens of vehicles joining the men on the field this day – advanced in a semi-circular pattern. They faced a group of thousands of Outliners. Spotters indicated at least a half-dozen kings as well. The shields and vehicles formed a perimeter that the monsters could not breach. Occasionally, one Outliner would leap over the forward shields of the phalanx and into the middle of many men. They rarely lasted more than a couple of seconds. Men from the middle of the phalanx would move forward to replace the ones on the leading edge as they tired. The ones on the leading edge would drop to their knees and wait to get to the back of the formation.

Greg and Derek. Derek and Greg. That was the talk of the day among the men as they pushed forward. The two leaders were leading by example this day. Greg from the left and Derek from the right, they had flanked around and behind the group of Outliners. Taking carefully placed shots with their black rifles, they killed Outliners – not to really reduce their ranks – but to draw them in. Greg and Derek were the bait. They were the spring of the trap.

Outliners took the bait. They followed the two men. As they attacked, many of the others followed suit. They were coming at the two men in increasingly larger droves. Derek and Greg were both in their “zones.” They were in the fight.

Derek shouldered the AR – he did not want a stray bullet to strike his forces. Granted, it would be highly unlikely, but nothing can replace good muzzle control. With that in mind, he removed the round from the chamber as well. This fight would be good. He’d taken on a dozen or so from cover with blades, but not thousands. Not without cover. Not in melee combat. “Crazy Train” played in his ear. That was good motivation.

Greg was not ready to abandon his firearms. Ben had taught him well over the last five years. He and the rifle were truly one. He fired shot after shot. He felled Outliner after Outliner. Given enough ammo and space, he could take this group alone. He knew it. You could tell because he fought like it.

Derek was working up a real sweat. The Outliners couldn’t touch him. He blended every combat range into one. One moment he was hitting or kicking a monster, the next he was hacking them in half with his bowie knife, and the next he was shooting them with either his pistol or his rifle. Never was a shot in the direction of his own, however. He knew where he was at every point.

The phalanxes moved forward. They pushed the thousands of Outliners into the concrete wall structure that the Japanese military had erected days before using helicopters. The plan was working. General Ichihara was nervous. One of the main rules of the battlefield was that if a plan was working, then one was walking into a trap. He wondered when the trap would spring on them.

After too many moments of melee combat, Derek decided he would rather snipe away for a little while. Problem was, he would have to find a place where the Outliners could still possibly get to him so he could still be bait. He found just such a perch off to his right. Problem: there were a thousand Outliners in the way – give or take a few hundred. Good news: there were no soldiers behind them. His AR slid off his shoulder and into his hands almost as if he’d willed it into place.

Derek moved fast. He fired as he moved. Not quite running, he was making a tactical advance as fast as Greg had ever seen. His pistol was in his left hand in case a monster got too close from his flank. He would occasionally slow up to kick a monster out of the way, as well.

Greg fired repeatedly. He saw what Derek wanted to do. He would help his friend, or die trying. Slowly but surely, the path was cleared. Greg watched as Derek leapt onto the ledge and climbed up. He was about five or six feet off the ground. Turning with the rifle, Derek fired shot after shot. He began clearing the area in front of him. Soon, the bodies of the dead started piling up and keeping the other monsters at bay.

Greg picked each shot. He had a similar wall of bodies before him. He wanted to keep just enough of their attention to keep the monsters coming at him – and further into the trap.

Derek fought gallantly. His body count was surely over one thousand after a mere thirty minutes into the operation. That’s when the signal was given. He and Greg had five minutes to get out. Then they would be driven away just in time for the air raid. A quick peek to the front of the trap verified the signal – the front “door” was being put into place.

Derek and Greg produced grappling hooks from their gear packs. The wall had a lip on the opposite side by design – just for this purpose. They flung their hooks almost in tandem. Derek howled in pain. Greg looked over to see an Outliner king had made his way just below the platform Derek was standing on. His tail was impaled through Derek…

uh, oh. Derek can't die yet. He has to live to MSpaint it or it didn't happen.

Originally Posted By rugger16: uh, oh. Derek can't die yet. He has to live to MSpaint it or it didn't happen.

Yeah, not yet.

You should have posted this chapter tomorrow.  Any guesses why?

scroll down for answer.
In honor of Michael Jackson's 50th birthday on August 29, 2008  

Oh... somebody is going to die. Possibly many. Maybe more than you think!


I didn't know it was MJ's birthday tomorrow. I hope for the sake of boys all over the world he doesn't get his true birthday wish!

Chapter 18


Greg was in a hurry. His surrogate son was in trouble. Not just his surrogate son, his son. They were that close. Not to mention that the young man had made a move to inspire that not only inspired his fellow soldiers in Tennessee, but all over the world. And here they were; across the globe In Japan, fighting the scourge of the 21st Century, showing their Japanese allies how to do it, and damn near getting killed in the process.

That was motivation for Greg, as if he needed any. The Outliners in his way never really stood a chance. Their only hope was not to be directly between him and Derek. Whereas a normal soldier would have had a hard enough time killing these monsters from a short distance, Greg was deep in his dance of death; so he had no problem killing them.

From a perch half a mile away, General Ichihara watched with surprise. There was no way he would authorize the bombing until these heroes were in a safe position. He enjoyed the spectacle of the fight. Naturally, he had ordered men to move in to provide assistance, and they were moving as fast as they could. But there would be some lag time. That time was used as quality entertainment by the General. He even had one subordinate video-recording the event. He knew that people later on would want to see the best warriors on earth.

On the field, in his stand, Derek the Hunter looked down at his wound. His left shoulder was impaled. He was lifter from the ground. He knew he had to act fast, even though he heard Greg coming for him. So act he did. He drew his knife – remembering with great joy that he had sharpened it on the plane ride over. Even after dispatching a few others with it this day, it still had the edge he so desperately needed.

Derek slashed down and removed the king’s barb tip in one smooth motion. The ground hit his feet. The king had dropped him. Spinning, he caught a swipe of the claw across the right side of his face and chest. The force of the blow knocked him down – almost to one knee. He used that as a launch position to spring back up with a slash of his own. The king was opened up from hip to shoulder.

Another wild slash from the king took the knife from the wounded Hunter’s hand. Derek was in trouble now and he knew it. The king was on him in an instant – closing the distance and starting an all-out wrestling match. Derek had the advantage of his martial arts training. The king had the advantage of his sheer size and strength, along with his natural weapons of claws and fangs.

It was the duel of the century – the king of the Outliners – a mutant race brought on by radioactive comet DNA brought to Earth versus the best combat warrior since Ghengis Khan. Only this time, the human had a pistol. And that was his saving grace.

Derek had tried to reverse the position, but this monster king had superb balance. The continual offensive of bites and claws kept Derek moving, playing defense far more than would be good for any extended amount of time. So Derek decided right then and there to finish it.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his left shoulder, he reached up and put a modified headlock on the Outliner king – keeping the teeth to the opposite side so they could not be brought in to bear. With his right hand, Derek reached down and grabbed the genitals of the monster, causing him to lurch back. That provided the space Derek so desperately needed – to grab his glock.

It wasn’t there.

“I’m coming!” Derek heard Greg say, but he still sounded a ways off.

Derek was about out of tricks. The Outliner had wriggled out of the headlock and was coming around for the bite. ‘They always bite the neck,’ Derek thought. So Derek rolled. A back roll brought him out from under the monster, but Derek was grazed on the back by the fangs. Distance was needed badly. Another roll kept him moving and provided four more feet of distance. Plus he rolled over something familiar…

Another Outliner king leapt up to the platform.

“Shit!” Derek exclaimed.

Greg was fighting through the horde. He needed 30 seconds more. Derek did not have 30 seconds!

The two kings started snapping at one another, as though fighting over the meal. This was the break Derek needed. He picked up the familiar handle… of his AR.

CLICK.

“Damn!”

Slap.

Rack.

Roll.

BANG!  Derek caught the first monster in the lower abdomen. It lunged at him, knocking him back down. Derek scrambled backwards on his backside. He needed space. The monster lunged and all Derek could see was its jaws.

So he put the barrel of the AR in the jaws and pulled the trigger.

Purple rain.

No, not the song by Prince – it was an explosion of the monster’s skull. Derek pushed the beast aside in time to see Greg on the platform – eight feet from him, putting nearly a whole magazine of 5.56 mm M855 rounds into the offensive creature. The bullets won that fight hands down. The purplish blood oozed form dozens of .22 caliber holes in the beast.

“Let’s go!” Greg yelled. Derek didn’t need to be told. They got moving, Derek first while Greg covered him. Over the wall they went. When Derek reached the top, he moved to the side and covered Greg for his ascent. The pain in Derek’s shoulder was really getting to him now. He checked his watch… the whole thing had taken just over a minute!

“We’ve got four minutes to get clear!” Derek yelled as Greg climbed.

“Don’t worry – the General is watching and will not give the order until he sees us!” Greg yelled back over the massive roar of the hordes of Outliners.

Greg was correct, that was the plan. The General kept his end, as well. However, the pilot never listened to the hold fire order from his commander, so the bomb struck earlier than anticipated. Greg and Derek had only made it a few hundred yards from the trap when it blew. That was not the main problem.

The main problem was that the same bomber pilot that had failed to listen was very new. So new, he missed the 1000-acre entrapment altogether with two of his bombs. What’s worse is that he missed on the same side of the fences as Greg and Derek were on in their truck.

Greg and Derek had made great haste in retreat, but today it wasn’t fast enough. Explosions lit up from behind them and seemed to chase them right up to the bed of the truck they were driving. Then one went off in front of the truck.

Greg saw the explosion. Then he saw black…

Chapter 19


“Greg, you OK?” Those were the first words Greg heard. He still couldn’t see clearly. He blinked repeatedly, getting the dust out of his eyes. Derek was standing over him.

Greg stood and surveyed the area. Their vehicle had been flipped on its side by the detonation. Derek had secured their weapons. They each had an AR-15, Derek had his spear and knife, and Greg had his Glock and sword.

“We better get a move-on.” Greg said.

“Yeah, we gotta walk, I don’t think the truck will help.” Derek pointed out. Greg knew it was only a little over a mile back to the base area – two kilometers is what the Japanese general had said.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Greg said when he realized the distance they had to cover.

Nonetheless, they covered the distance in reasonable time. They had to stop twice for Greg as he had not been feeling well since awakening. Derek didn’t mind a bit, either, as his shoulder was aching. They had cauterized the wound on one stop as a precautionary measure. Greg didn’t think it wise to let Derek bleed out.

As they approached the former warehouse, now a strategic command post, they were too worn out and wounded to notice that it was quiet… too quiet.

The men entered the main area. That’s when it hit them – the lights were on, but nobody was home.

Nobody they could see…

A door creaked open. A familiar snarling. Outliners were behind the door. But they did not emerge, yet…

“Put down your guns,” came a familiar voice. Derek snapped his mask down for action. Both men brought their rifles up to a ready position. Greg thumbed on his holographic sight.

“Who is there? What do you want?” Greg called out.

“Again, put down your rifles.” Greg knew that voice. It couldn’t be. Not all the way out here.

“Dan? Is that you?” Greg called.

“I will not ask you again, Greg. I will ask who your partner is?” It was Dan’s voice. Neither man could see him, though.

“You will find out, soon enough if you don’t stop threatening us.” Derek responded.

“Fine, if you will not drop your guns, I will drop the gates keeping hundreds of the mutants from you.” Dan’s voice said. They still could not get a read on where it was coming from.

Hinges groaned and chains rolled. The noise was loud enough to be heard over the groans of what had to be legions of Outliners. Sure enough, dozens of them poured through the doors at the back of the warehouse. Derek sprinted back to the door they had used to enter the building. It was locked from the outside.

Derek and Greg loaded their rifles.

“Fight side by side, then back to back, if we need to.” Greg instructed.

“Already there,” came the reply. Derek had moved to Greg’s side as Greg had spoken. “Greg, we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“You know those upgrades you recommended for the mask – the night vision, thermal vision, and magnifying optics.” Derek said.

“Yeah, what about them? Are they not working?” Greg asked.

“No, they are working just fine.” Derek replied.

“Then what’s the problem?” Greg asked.

“They are showing that we are about to have hundreds more visitors. Other than the ones that just came in.”

“Are they in cages, too?”

“I can’t tell. I can only pick them up on thermal. Can’t see clear enough through the walls to tell if there are more bars or not.” Derek said.

“Then let’s just worry about them if and when they get here… like these creeps!” Greg said as he opened fire on the rapidly approaching Outliners.

Derek opened fire, too. All hell broke loose.

The two men kept at each other’s side – firing. They shot down monster after monster. There was just one problem – ammo. They had plenty. But there were even more monsters to shoot than they had bullets, especially considering they had used most of their rounds earlier at the Outliner trap battle.

And so the story played – the men shooting the monsters, covering one another as they changed magazines, and on and on until Greg announced he was out. A minute later, Derek was out, as well. There were still several dozen monsters in the large, open area they occupied, but no more were coming through the doors in the back.

Greg had figured by this time that Dan was behind all of this. That part wasn’t hard to figure out. What took a little longer to realize was that he was not in the room – he had just been communicating through some loud speakers. He probably had a control room nearby, where he could watch. It was probably behind one of the dozen or so windows Greg saw up above – on what would be the second story of the building.

A bigger question remained in Greg’s mind as he hacked his way through some of the remaining Outliners. Where was General Ichihara? This had been the rendezvous point. Why was he not here?

Greg managed to voice these thoughts to Derek as they fought. Slowly, they were cutting down the remaining Outliners with their blades. Greg kept his Glock at his side, saving it for a more dire emergency. When they had run out of 5.56mm ammo for the rifles, they had space and distance from the monsters. This made it possible – if not entirely easy – for them to switch to the melee weapons they carried.

As the last monster was slaughtered, Derek flipped a knob on the side of his helmet. This knob was what he used to activate the thermal vision. He scanned carefully.

“Well done.” That was Dan’s voice. Derek realized immediately that the voice was coming from a speaker on the wall. “Now let’s see how you handle the big ones!”

Outliner kings came through the door. Derek had seen them. He had told Greg about them during the previous melee. There were several – Derek couldn’t tell how many, so he thumbed back to regular vision in his mask.

Derek wheeled out to the side with his double-bladed spear. Greg simply drew his Glock and went to one knee to steady himself. Greg’s aim was perfect. Eleven shots, eleven kings dead. Derek had covered his flank the entire time, but didn’t need to so much as move a step due to the accurate shooting of his mentor.

Greg checked his magazine. He was out of pistol ammo, as well. No more magazines; only one single round, in the chamber of his Glock. Things weren’t looking so good right now. The two headed for a side door, which they found to be unlocked. They circled round and to the back, where they found the stairs. Going up the stairs cautiously, Greg sliced off every corner. There may be only a single shot left, but it would count for something!

At the top of the stairs, the two saw a bad set of choices. There were many boxes, stacked to the ceiling, on both sides. Visibility was horrible because potential hiding places were everywhere. They moved to the right. Derek guarded the rear as Greg moved forward – slicing every corner as best he could with the pistol.

Laboriously they checked each door. All of the rooms were empty. They got to the end of the hall and decided to go back and check the other side. They had made their way back to just past the stairwell when it happened…

Dan dropped from the ceiling. He had been waiting there all along. His motion took Greg down. With a slash from the knife he held in his right hand, he nearly severed Greg’s gun-hand at the wrist but Greg moved it just enough to suffer no more than a moderate cut. The pistol dropped to the floor along with Greg. The battle cry Dan let out was horrifying, even for a combat veteran like Derek.

Derek was in motion immediately, but the distance he had kept to cover their rear would work against him. In the moment it took for him to close the distance, Dan had retrieved the dropped pistol and fired the lone bullet. Greg was thrown back to the ground – face up. Derek leapt over his fallen friend and slashed at Dan’s gun-hand.

Dan was fast. He’d trained with Greg and Derek. He was among the most proficient in the combat arts. He recoiled from Derek’s attack with amazing speed. Derek’s downward slash caught only the pistol. The gun clattered to the floor.

Dan had another weapon, though; and he retreated to gain space and drew a six-foot staff. There were steel points on each end. This weapon would not be suitable for slashing, as Derek’s would; but it would be equally as deadly should a thrust ever hit its mark!

Derek readied himself. His shoulder was killing him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Greg getting to his feet! The shot must not have been fatal… yet.

Dan twirled his weapon and closed the distance. “You don’t know how long I have been waiting for this moment, kid!”

“Better enjoy it while it lasts, which won’t be long.” Derek taunted.

The whirling weapons met. Splinters showered off both weapons as they collided. Dan followed his initial attack with a wide slash – left to right. Derek ducked the blow and thrust straight out, advancing for the kill.

Dan blocked the stab attempt with a two-handed thrust to the side, holding his staff vertically. Derek came on with a follow up slash and another thrust. Dan parried the attacks and kept giving ground. He had the look of a man who knew he had to turn this battle around soon or he wouldn’t live long enough to tell of it.

Another slash and reverse from Derek set up his intended blow. His initial slash and thrust had forced Dan to keep all of his weight and the weapon to his left. But Derek held his spear with the butt end on his left. With a reverse of his forward grip, he slashed out to his left again – certain to catch Dan at his exposed rib area.

Dan, however, had seen the setup, and in the time it took for Derek to reverse the grip, Dan had reversed his own and blocked the slash and countered with a whip-like strike to Derek’s jaw.

Derek absorbed the blow and moved with a natural follow up slash to the lower leg of Dan. The slash scored. Both men backed up for a needed reset. First blood with both strikes had come nearly simultaneously and both men had been shaken by having their defenses penetrated.

Dan settled into a defensive posture, keeping a grip with both palms down on his weapon, which was held horizontally at chin level – a classic defensive posture.

Derek inhaled deeply to offset the pain in his shoulder and jaw – more so from the shoulder. He settled into a back stance – classic defensive positioning. His staff came up in an offensive high-guard. Derek only remembered his mistake when he heard Greg scream from behind him.

“NOOOOO!” Greg said as he rushed up, hoping Dan had not seen the error.

Too late. Dan had seen the error, too. Flipping forward and into an offensive position, Dan had seen Derek take an offensive hand positioning along with the defensive footwork. He knew two or three blows would be all the defense Derek could muster. He was right!

A left-to-right slash followed immediately with a mirror right-to-left slash and combined with a twirl to a straight thrust had tangled up Derek’s defenses. Derek managed to block the deadly thrust, but his arms were severely twisted and he was unable to parry the fourth blow – a whipcrack side strike to the ribs.

Derek crumpled, completely out of breath as the wind had been knocked form him. But as Dan raised his weapon for the coup-de-grace, Greg leapt over his fallen apprentice and into the thick of things – blocking the down-strike with his sword.

An initial surprise factor put Dan on the defensive again. He tried unsuccessfully to mount a counterattack, but was thwarted by Greg’s consistent offense. Slash after slash kept Dan on the run. Then a look went across his face that registered as understanding.

Contrary to common belief, a staff is not a long range weapon. It can be used this way, but when facing a sword, it would be all too easy for a swordsman to get inside and hack the staff-bearer to bits. Dan had been at the classes when Greg taught this. The counter for a staff when facing a sword is fairly simple, in terms of strategy, get inside. Hold the weapon evenly at the middle and work form three feet in. The sword is most useful from three feet to four feet, so their ideal range would be disrupted and the staff-wielder would have an advantage.

Dan used this tactic.

Greg was now the one playing defense, clawing for more space. Strike after strike; thrust after thrust, Greg looked for his opening. There are only two ways for a swordsman to negate an inside attack with a staff, and it all has to do with either angle or distance. In this narrow hallway, distance was not an option. So a kick to the thigh and a back-roll later, Greg shifted the angle of his blade.

A general rule of swordplay is to keep the point of the blade as close to the enemy as possible, without over-extending. Typically, this is done from a standard middle-guard position; hands held in front of the body, about eight to ten inches from the abdomen, and the sword worked in this manner. One obvious exception is the high-guard.

There is another, lesser used, positioning that can be utilized. The offensive side guard is used for close fighting. The hands are held near the ear and jaw, like hasso-no-kamae, but with the point of the sword facing the opponent, instead of in an upward baseball bat positioning. This positioning is dangerous to use in a sword-on-sword environment. But it was developed extensively for the staff on sword environment.

Greg switched positioning and it was like the world opened up to him. He was not only able to better defend the blows and thrusts, but he was actually able to counterattack as much as he defended.

Blows were exchanged and defended. Thrusts were parried and counterthrusts placed. The battle went on, but one thing was clear – on an even platform, Greg had the advantage of skill despite the gunshot wound to his abdomen.

The fight reached a critical turning point when Greg, after parrying an over-zealous thrust, kicked Dan in the midsection and thereby created more space. Greg switched to a high guard and pressed the attack from more of a distance. Dan was obviously in trouble, barely staving off the blows.

A realization came when Greg closed with a particularly powerful blow – possibly with the intent of slashing the staff in half. The blow actually imbedded the sword into the wood of the staff. Both men realized this at once and a test of strength ensued – each man trying to wrest the conjoined weapons form the other’s grip.

The look on Dan’s face was quasi-horror. It was almost as he knew he had to change something or he wouldn’t make it out alive.

The look on Greg’s face was placid knowingness. He looked as though he knew either man would die here today, and the thought of the possibilities did not weigh heavily on him. He was at peace.

In a twisting motion, the weapons came apart – each man kept the grip on his own weapon. Dan retreated and thrust out to his side – not at Greg. The window next to him, overlooking the warehouse space opened up with a crash. The safety glass did its job – splintering into thousands of not-very-sharp pieces. Dan lunged at Greg and with a flurry, and sent him back sprawling to the ground.

Dan took the advantage of the pause in action to swing himself out the window. He landed on some stacked boxes no more than five feet below. He quickly made his way down to the floor level.

Greg and Derek followed, through the window, and onto the floor. They were careful not to advance too quickly as they did not want to face Dan without the help of the other.

“Either of us can take him, but together is always a better option.” Greg said.

Derek nodded knowingly. This battle had to end… quickly.

On the floor, they spanned out – Derek and Greg moving to either side of Dan, bracketing him in. Dan settled into a horse stance, weapon held with a tip facing each of his opponents. He did not want to face them together any more than would be necessary, so he moved to the center of the floor for maximum mobility.

Bodies of the dozens of dead Outliners were everywhere. There had even been a couple on the boxes the men had used to descend onto the floor. Greg and Derek were careful to move over and around them. Footing would be uncertain, at best with all of the blood, claws, and tail-barbs around.

“What did you do with the General?” Greg asked. He was running on fumes at this point.

“Ichihara? Nothing. I just told him that I was your backup and that you wanted them to go back to their command center and wait for you.” Dan replied. Derek noted he was catching his breath.

“How did you get him to believe you?” Derek asked.

“It was easy with all of the old photos of us together. He never even questioned it.” Dan smiled. He looked so proud of himself for deceiving the General. “Besides, when I showed him the Tennessee Militia papers showing me as second in command, he was convinced.”

Derek remembered back to a time when Greg had been angry at himself for not demanding those papers back, but then he gave Derek a copy with his own name on it, if anyone should ever need proof. One of the faults of no longer having internet or other electronic communications of that sort.

Dan smiled and faked an attack toward Derek – which got the desired response; Derek retreated half a step. Dan immediately switched sides and went after Greg, who was, somewhat predictably, moving in to attack Dan’s flank. Only now it wasn’t Dan’s flank, it was his front.

Dan easily deflected the thrust from Greg and went on the attack with a series of thrusts, which again brought him inside the defenses of the sword. This time, Dan did not waste time with broad slashes as they would have given Greg too much time to collect himself and react. Instead, it was thrust after thrust. Dan varied the angles and the levels of the attacks, but kept after him in a linear motion.

Derek rushed from the rear. He had closed the distance when Dan whirled on him with a high slash, left-to-right. Derek easily blocked the strike, but the second, which came from a twirl and the same direction, landed. The second slash had landed because Dan had again changed levels – going form high to low this time. The point of the staff opened up a cut on Derek’s right leg, and he stumbled backward, tripping over a dead Outliner and hitting the ground hard.

Dan whirled just in time to meet Greg’s sword with his staff. Derek looked on as the two fought and tried to stand, realizing he was impaled, just next to the first wound, with the tail-barb of a dead Outliner king. This was not going to be fun. He worked quickly to sever the barb and get himself back in the action. The pain became excruciating.

Meanwhile, Dan used another series of thrusts to push Greg back. Greg looked annoyed at himself for allowing him and Derek to get split up and be unable to bring the advantage of 2-on-1 to bear. A kick to the midsection created some distance for Greg. He attacked with a vengeance.

A hard down-stroke of Greg’s severed one of the ends of Dan’s weapon. It could still be used to thrust, but there was no more sharp steel point. That point was on the ground, next to the tail barb of a dead Outliner.

Greg was panting heavily. The gunshot wound was bleeding freely and Derek could see he was losing strength with each passing moment. Derek worked feverishly to free himself. He had a horrible angle on the barb and eventually had to impale it all of the way through the front of himself to be able to cut it off. He tried to stand, but the blood loss, pain, and the body of the dead monster all conspired against him, tripping him back to the cold concrete floor.

Dan was looking tired, but the feral gleam in his eye told Derek that he knew he had Greg at a disadvantage. So Dan pressed the attack. Thrust after thrust with the good end of his spear moved Greg back.

Then it happened, all of a sudden…

Greg countered hard, obviously wanting to get on the offensive side of things. When he struck out, however, he failed to see the tail of an Outliner on the floor next to him. His foot rolled and his ankle popped – loud.

Greg screamed out.

Dan thrust his weapon.

Paydirt.

Greg’s expression glazed over. His throat was gushing blood. He made no sound.

Dan pulled his weapon back, and grabbed Greg’s hair, yanking his head back. Another thust – this one upward into Greg’s head.

Greg’s body twitched slightly as Dan shoved it unceremoniously to the ground.

“NOOOO!!!” Derek screamed.

The wounded young man rushed at the killer. Weapons clashed. Now it was personal for Derek. High, low, right, left he slashed. Dan blocked his advances, and even launched a few counterattacks.

Then it happened, all of a sudden…

Derek slashed downward, and missed completely as Dan rolled out of the way. His blade became wedged into the box it hit. Struggle as he might, he could not free the weapon. Dan was on him in an instant. A swift kick from Dan sent Derek back, weaponless. Dan pushed his advantage.

Retreating, Derek was running out of options. He drew his knife with his left hand as he was propping on his right hand to help him stand back up. Dan smashed the flat end of his weapon against Derek’s wrist, knocking the weapon away.

Dan thrust his weapon again.

Derek blocked with his forearm and the point of the spear went through his arm. With much pain, and with a clear mind, Derek grabbed the point with his left hand – the impaled arm was now to his advantage as he controlled the weapon. He knew, however, this setup wouldn’t last.

Reaching back with his right arm, Derek felt on the ground and found a familiar handle. He released the spear and Dan fell back, as he had been pulling with all his might to retrieve his weapon. Derek was up in a flash, he now brandished Greg’s sword. His left forearm bled profusely.

Dan looked in awe at the young man in front of him. His expression was almost one of admiration. Derek settled into an attacking posture – high guard, for an instant only. He was a blur of a motion, attacking motion.

Dan was on the defense. He blocked and parried. He worked his way inside for a close battle. Derek used his strength and physical size, along with perfected technique, to fight Dan back to the outside. Every thrust was met with a hard counterattack – indicative of the “Fire” methodology Greg had been so fond of.

Dan tried and tried, but could not work an advantage. And every effort was met with such a forceful counterattack that Dan was repelled backward and immediately put on the defensive. But Dan was noticing a pattern, the counterattacks were always high-guard down-strokes. He would work this to his advantage…

Another exchange.

Another deflect and counterattack.

Another down-stroke.

Dan countered. His staff was held horizontally. He smashed it grip-first into Derek’s jaw. A quick spinning reverse and a blind stab to his back hit home. Derek was impaled, for a third time that day, in his left shoulder area.

Dan looked over his left shoulder to see the damage.

He saw the damage alright.

He saw the blade of Greg’s sword in Derek’s right hand flashing toward his neck.

Derek watched as the head rolled to the ground. The head made no noise, but Derek did see, very clearly, Dan was trying to speak. Or scream. Derek really didn’t care which.

Derek debated with himself for a moment, to put the head out its misery, or to let it die.

Let it die.

Derek staggered over to his slaughtered friend, and blacked out…

Chapter 20


“Granddad. Was it Derek Kemp that you were named after?” Calista asked.

The old man chuckled. “No, young one.” He pulled up his left sleeve and showed a very pink scar on his forearm. There was a scar on both sides.

“But how is that possible? You are Derek Clark. I thought you were one of Greg’s children.” Kyle asked. Being the oldest, he had heard some of these things before.

“I am Derek Clark. The minute Greg Clark took me under his wing, I became Derek Clark. It took until that last battle for me to figure that out. With Greg’s passing, I legally changed my name to honor my mentor. My second father. The man who taught me everything. We spent hours together – him teaching me, confiding in me, and occasionally even learning from me.

“I still love and admire the Kemp name. That’s why you still have it, Johnny. You are blood kin to Calista and Kyle. Now Blake, you are related too by marriage. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you that one another day.” The old man looked at the dark window. It was after 9 pm. It was still raining. “Now what else can I tell you about the time when we had to take Earth back?”

“One more thing, whatever happened to the Outliners?” Johnny asked.

“We wiped them out. Less than a year after Greg died. The phalanx formation was unstoppable against the mindless beasts. They had no way around it. We completely bombed unnecessary cities after getting all the people out. Cities with valuable resources or manufacturing cities were swept manually. We got every last one of those monsters. Now the only ones you’ll see are in certain zoos.”

Derek, the Hunter – the Old Man – leaned back in his chair. His eyes were misty. “This is going to hurt me, but I know you kids will like it.” He said as he stood from his chair and disappeared up to the attic. He was back down in a moment with several mementos. He let the children see and hold the spear, sword, and mask.

The children were awestruck. Giggling and pointing. They realized the value of these weapons.

“Granddad?” Calista asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“You were stabbed several times. How did you live?”

“Oh, General Ichihara came back for me. He said he arrived moments after the last battle. That was the last time I ever knowingly went into battle.”

“Granddad. You’ve told me before that there was a battle to get back Ben’s daughter. I’ve heard you say it. Did you miss that? Did you forget?” Kyle said.

“No, my boy. That came later. But I had to fight then, it wasn’t willingly. You will learn that to willingly go into battle takes a certain mindset.”

“Dad, the phone is for you. They said some of the monsters escaped the Buffalo, NY zoo.” Kyle’s mom announced, turning the corner.

The old man looked carefully at the spear and the sword, as if deciding between the two. He picked up both and moved slowly toward the phone…



THE END

Great story, thanks a bunch.

Good story , but at the beginning of the battle between Greg and Dan .
Dan's initial strike " he nearly severed Greg’s gun-hand at the wrist "

From then on , I couldn't help but wonder how Greg could wield his sword effectively
for the rest of the fight ?

Sir ,I thank you for a great story, I wish you well.

Originally Posted By chrome1: Good story , but at the beginning of the battle between Greg and Dan . Dan's initial strike " he nearly severed Greg’s gun-hand at the wrist " From then on , I couldn't help but wonder how Greg could wield his sword effectively for the rest of the fight ?

Good question, I should have included more detail - edited to reflect how it should be...

"... nearly severed Greg's hand at the wrist, but Greg moved it just enough to suffer no more than a moderate cut."

I had rewritten this and several possible outcomes several times before deciding on it. I plain forgot about this part in my main Word document. Sorry.


ETA: One outcome had Dan mercilessly killing a wounded Greg - but I figured that wouldn't hold water as Greg is one of the best warriors on the planet at the time.

I changed it and had Dan giving a war cry with the blow, and Greg dodging just enough. This would lead to an honorable death in battle, as every warrior would want to go, if he had a preference.

Also - do check out my new story, on another thread in here. I'll be posting the first chapter later this week. [I am in the process of writing the outline of the last chapter, the first chapter, and the overall outline. Once all three are done, I'll get the details in on the first chapter.]  

VERY NICE. Thank you for the story.

FANTASTIC!

Well done.  Loved the story and can't wait to read your next story.

Great job!!  Thanks



Ron

great job!!!

Realized I haven't said, "rock on" on the forum, only PMs:)

So, there, well done!

Excellent. Thanks for the escape from reality.

Excellant read.  The final battle was really long but excellant. Thanks..............

Wow

Very good story, I'll have to go back and reread some parts, cause I'm wondering where the rift with Dan came from.


mild things I'd correct:
1)In the beginning, during Sarah's introduction, you gave Sarah's mother two different demises first she died of an overdose, and then she was turned into a Biter and shot by Gregs initial group. So either Mom's drug of choice was 55gr. Hornady TAP, or the stories don't match... you pick..

2)It takes a lot more than a dead body to rip an oil pan off of a Mustang, and once you do, you can't drive from Missouri to Tennessee. I'd stick with "the collision with the female biter must have cracked the radiator, as the Mustang began to overheat badly once Savannah had crossed the Missippi" or something like that. You can make it a few more miles with a damaged radiator, but a missing/cracked oil pan gives you a mile or two,  no further.

All in all, I was pretty enthralled with the story, you had some really good twists in the plot. Good job!!

*TAG*

Good job. I'm liking it so far.

Wait...why did Dan fight them.

Did I miss a major point?

Edit: I was mistaking Dan for Ben. However the ending seems a bit forced. If you're interesting I'll explain once I get off work.

Sorry - it's been a year since I touched this. I thought I wrote a part where Dan got fired/turned down for a job in the early part of the book. He was a weird one and I should have devoted a bit more time to that.

Trying to finish up the current one now - Hitman II. Not going as fast on that one as I'd hoped and I'm near the end of it, too. Just can't figure out how to wrap it up.

taggage