Muster

by Christoff Orr

  He wasn’t the only one though who noticed the change in Trigger. One of the other SEAL team members, Thumper, had stealthily moved up next to Jay. “What does he got?” Thumper whispered towards Jay.

  Jay shook his head at first, then kept his eyes open towards the darkened night, he hurriedly answered, “I don’t know. Can’t see squat. But something is out there, that I do know.”

  Thumper moved around Jay till he was next to Trigger. Once there, he removed his tactical glove and laid his exposed hand upon Triggers back. Instantly Trigger jerked towards Thumper, but just as quick, Trigger relaxed and gave Thumpers hand a few licks. Thumper held his hand there, a moment, allowing Trigger to smell it, “Good boy,” Thumper said, as he patted Triggers head. He then retracted his hand and replaced the glove. As soon as Thumper removed his hand, Trigger instantly resumed his previous posture and demeanor. Thumper then directed his attention past Trigger and over at Jay. “When I give you the signal, send Trigger.”

  “But,” Jay quickly shot back, “We don’t know what’s out there, who’s out there.”

  Thumper looked down as he removed the strap holding his M4 tight to his body, before he laid the rifle down next to him. He then pulled out his Benchmade knife, a birthday gift from his dad. “Trust me, he’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of that. Just do as I say, and when I say now, you send him.” Thumper then looked back towards the darkness that was stretched out before him.

  The snow had stopped falling, but a breeze had picked up and would occasionally send a gust up the mountain and across their location. When it did, the passing wind would pick up some of the loose top snow and blow it around. It caused a quizzical effect, in that it made the appearance of snow falling up, towards the sky, instead of down from the sky. The wind also carried with it, a whistling sound. Not like how one would whistle to call in their dog, or when they see a pretty girl, but more of a demonic moan, or howl of a lost soul. Thumper turned slightly and looked over his shoulder towards the drop off of the cliff, where the Commander, Lt. Preen and the others where still crying on a conversation. He looked past the group of men and out to where he could see the tops of some of the trees that had taken root thousands of years ago, just beyond the drop-off. Now only the top portion of their foliage could peek a glimpse of what resided upon the mountaintop.

  Thumper was in a crouched position, Trigger, still static, stood ready to his right. In Thumpers right hand he held the Benchmade knife, while the weight of his body rested upon the balls of his feet. He looked over his shoulder, towards the treetops he waited and waited. Patients was a trait he had learned a long time ago, long before he started BUD’s training and even before he enlisted in the Navy. It was something taught to him by his father, during long outing hunting for dear, or at the river fishing for some largemouth bass. It was taught to him by his mother, as she passed along her secret recipe for her famous four alarm chili. Everything in his life, up to this moment had taught him patients.

  Just then, the top of one of the trees bent, as another gust of chilled wind began to rush towards them, as it brought along with it some loose snow. In a stern, but subdued tone, Thumper called out, “NOW!” He then pushed off, as he legs sprung upwards and out, and launched his body into the darkness. He didn’t hear Jay call out to Trigger, but he could see the dog out of the corner of his eyes, as it raced forward, right next to him. Holding the handle of his knife in his right hand, the blade running down along his forearm, he pushed with all his might and energy. As he rushed forward, imagines that were once shrouded by the blacked space in front of him, began to come into focus. Shapes started to form and take meaning. First, he saw a large rock, then some scrub bushes, then there was something white. Not white like the snow on the ground, but clean type of white. Just as he saw the first white shape, he noticed another standing right next to it. About this time, the rushing wind and snow had caught up with Thumper and Trigger. Then all of a sudden, in a collation of opposing forces, Thumper, Trigger, the two white forms, the gust of wind, and the snow which road upon it, all intertwined and became one.

  Thumper hit the form strait in front of him, while Trigger took the other. Thumper raised his right arm, till his forearm and the sharpened edge of the knife was laying outward, in front of his face. Then before they even saw anything coming, Thumper collided with the white mass, knocking it backward as Thumper fell right on top of it. Because of how Thumper had positioned the blade, it struck the Russian solider square in the throat. The force of the impact was so great, and the blade had been honed to such a razor sharp edge, that nothing slowed it down, till it struck the man's spine. The sharpened steel, sliced through the throat, larynx, arteries and all, till it finally embedded itself into the man's vertebra. It was only a thin strip of skin, about an inch wide, that kept the head still attached to the rest of the Russians body.

  Making quick work of the Russian in front of him. Blood spurted, poured and dribbled out of numerous locations, soaking the Russian’s winter clothing, along with Thumpers arm and chest. The nearby snow melted under the consumption of the hot blood as it counted its exodus from its host. Thumper pushed himself up off of the lifeless corpse and turned to assist Trigger. Thumper looked over, only to see Trigger, snout covered in blood, sitting calmly once again. Next to him the other Russian solider laid on the ground, his hands frantically reaching for this through, where blood poured freely from it. His legs twitched up and down as if he was trying to ride a bike while laying on the ground. Thumper stood there, somewhat disconnected from the moment, and watched as the crimson blood pooled around the man. Finally a few moments later, and a few more leg kicks, the movement stopped and this unknown Russian soldier was dead.

  Thumper reached down, and patted Triggers head, as he muttered, “Good boy.”

  By time Trigger and Thumper returned, the Commander and the others had already rejoined the group. With blood and flecks of flesh still dripping from Triggers noes and teeth, and blood dripping down the forearm of Thumper, they walked up and stood next to the others. “So what’s going on?” Thumper asked no worry or concern in his tone.

  “Not sure yet, but I don’t think it is anything good. Just saw some Russians loading up Chinese regulars onto the train cars down there.” Lt. Preen said as he hooked a thumb back towards the cliff. It was about then that he noticed the fresh blood still dripping from the two. “What up with you?”

  Thumper half turned to look back where he had just come from, “Two Russians. Don’t know if they were trying to stalk up on us, or just happened to come across our little camp. Either way, Trigger here and I took care of them. That being said though, don’t know if there will be more coming.”

  “Either way, I say we’ve outstayed our welcome,” Lt. Preen said before turning towards the Commander. “You think?”

  The Commander nodded, “Agreed. It looks like we got all the rest we needed for the night. Make sure all your gear is squared away, and let's get to it.”

  13 Step by Step

  The Hive

  Ms. White always considered herself a practical woman. She had a strong sense of wrong and right and always felt there should be consciences for action. Those consciences could either be good or bad, depending on the action taken and the circumstances. But no matter the outcome, there always had to be a result of the action, some give and take yin and yang. She rarely gambled more than she could afford to lose, and planned out every move, much like a chess master. It was this metal preparedness along with her firm foundation of justice, that she had been able lean upon and allowed her to survive such a grueling career. Most within her line of work burn out somewhere along the way, or worse become the very evil they had spent the majority of their adult life fighting against. Though she knew she would never fall into one of these categories, she held no resentment towards those who did. You can’t spend your life as a guest of the Devil, and not take on some of his traits.

  Now as she walked slowly along, through a rough and snow covered mounta
ins terrain, she couldn’t help but think about all the little choices in her life which had lead up to this point. How did a Texas farm girl, a granddaughter of a German immigrant, get to the point of leading hundreds of people on an all-night hike to a secluded hideout? Trying to explain simply how to point A had lead to a point B, or whatever letter she was now at, would be no different from picking up a single puzzle piece and explaining the picture it will someday be a part of.

  After leaving the house of the Loyalist Ms. White and the rest of the group rushed back towards Mrs. Jackson's house. They were able to beat the Russian patrol to the house, but only barely. Once they arrived Lance sent runners to all the other safe houses and told them that they had to pack up and leave immediately. That everyone had to leave, not just those passing through, but the longtime residents of the homes, they too would have to pack up and head out on foot. They would have to leave everything they have ever known and loved, behind in the darkness, knowing that they would never see it again. To ensure that no information could be gleaned from the deserted houses, Lance ordered all of them to be torched.

  This wasn’t the last minute drastic thought of someone feeling squeezed by opposing forces, this was a protocol set in place when the Hive first started to reach out to those within the surrounding community. To be an official member of the Hive and be willing to use your house as a safe haven, you had to accept the very difficult reality that you, your loved ones and your home had just become targets for the Chinese and the Regional units.

  Now with being found out, a very real possibility, and not wanting to take any chances of vital information being captured, they set up two fail-safes in case such drastic measure had to be taken. The first is that every member of a safe haven had to have a Go Bag ready at all times. This Go Bag not only had to have necessities such as food, clothing and other essential supplies, but it had to also house any paperwork related to the Hive and its organization. The other part was that they had to ensure that their house could be destroyed in a matter of minutes. Most of the Safe Haven houses had basements, and that it where gallons of fuel, homemade black powder and other such inflammable materials were kept. If the time came that everyone had to quickly leave, the Go Bags would be strapped on and the fuse would be lit. Such was the case of that night.

  Now as Ms. White walked along the many others who not only fought and survived Camp Zion but now had left their homes, she couldn’t help but think of the image she saw that night. With the snow starting to come down, flames leapt skyward as they engulfed more than a dozen homes that night. At night, the burning sanctuaries dotted the darkened landscape. These people, the owners of those homes, had survived the blackout. They put up with the Highwaymen, the murders, the change of power. They somehow got through the invasion of Russian and Chinese troops and the division of power. They went through all of that, keeping their sanity, their families together and alive, as well as keeping their home standing. Now, because of her, they had to torch everything that they had struggled so hard to keep. It was the last bit of pre-blackout normalcy that they still had, now that too has been taken away from them. Yet it wasn’t just enough pain to have it taken away from them, but it was the fact that it was done so at with their own hands.

  For the first real time, since Ms. White left the office of the King, all so long ago, she has seen the real-life effects of this path she has chosen. Even when she was at Camp Zion, she did not feel that the results there were derived from her actions or choices. If anything, she felt that her actions and the actions of her team members proved to be vital in the saving of many from that camp. But here, there was no way that she could deny that those people lost their homes, and now had to trek across the Utah wilderness all because of her.

  The first rays of daylight were starting to stretch through the broken clouds above. The snowfall had tampered off a bit, but had since combined with the wind, as it continued to harass the travelers. Though the temperature was near freezing and the flurries of snow being blown all around was bothersome, Ms. White and a few others realized that in reality, it was a blessing in disguise. They knew it was only because of the near gall force winds, which threw fresh snow up, down, and sideways, that they were able to escape undetected.

  Ms. White looked up towards those broken clouds and was able to see some clear blue sky just beyond them. Ever since they left the houses ablaze, they had marched nonstop, through the night, the cold, the snow and the bone-chilling wind. Old, young, children and elderly, sick and soar, all walked. They chose not to take the vehicles out of fear that they would make easy targets for both the Russian patrol as well as any Regionals in the area. Plus there was not enough space for everyone on them. It wasn’t just the loss of vehicle transportation that was difficult to leave, but the supplies of food, water, as well as all the reloading supplies that had been used to keep them fully stocked in ammunition. That was a loss that would be greatly felt later.

  Sometime during the night, they had looped around the backside of the Timpanogos Mountain. This added time to their walk but avoided a more strenuous advance up the face of the mountainside. They still had a bit of a climb to get to the entrance of the Hive, but at least it wouldn’t have been made twice. This path allowed them to be under the constant supervision of the Hive security, so that they could make the final push without the added stress of coming under fire.

  The breeze had slowed down to a genteel and occasional nudge. The breeze was just enough to push any warmth that might have settled upon their face and shoulders from the rising sun. The mountains rose up on both side of the group as they continued their push towards safety. The mountainside was covered in snow, with patches of green trees and brown boulders sporadically dotting the landscape. Right away Ms. White could see why they picked such a location for Hive. If it wasn’t for such a dire need for safety, they themselves would have pushed through such difficult terrain. Now as they walked along the snow-covered and degraded road, Ms. White walked up to Lance as she asked, “How much further?”

  Lance looked over, as he pulled out his radio, “We’re here.” Then as he held the radio up to his mouth, he keyed the transmit button and called into it, "Charlie Two Two, this is Bluebird Five, come in over.”

  A moment later a familiar voice came back over the radio, “Bluebird Five, this is Charlie Two Two, good to hear your voice. What’s your location?”

  “Charlie Two Two, we are approaching Broadway through the back door. We are requesting clearance and assistance. We have multiple wounded and elderly in need of help. We will need assistance to make the climb, over,” Lance answered back into the radio.

  “Copy Bluebird Five, hold one,” Charlie Two Two said before they made another call. “Towers Forty and Forty-One, you’re going to have company approaching the back door, be ready.”

  “Tower Forty copies,” A voice called out over the radio.

  “Tower Forty-One copies,” Another voice replied.

  “Bluebird Five, you are clear through the backdoor of Broadway, I’ll send help down the trail to help out as best as they can.” Charlie Two Two answered back.

  “Copy that Charlie Two Two, much appreciated. Let Brother Ben I’m on my way up and need to talk to him. Bluebird Five out.” Lance then hooked the radio back onto his belt and pulled his jacket back over it. He then turned towards Ms. White, “Just a few more yards and we’ll be at the base of the trail that leads up to the Hive. When we get there, you and I and a few others will have a meeting with Brother Ben. After that, we’ll decide where we go from there. Sound fair?”

  Ms. White smiled and nodded. She looked upwards towards the top of the mountain they were going to need to climb as she asked, “How long is the trail up?”

  Lance smiled then looked up the mountain as well, “The trail is a mile and a half up, elevating over eleven hundred feet from start to finish. Under good conditions, a person can make it up in about an hour and a half, but today, I have a feeling it will be taking us a bit longer.”<
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  Ms. White looked skyward towards the peak of the mountain that stood next to them. “Wow. I guess I know now why you guys don’t have much trouble hiding from the Chinese.”

  Lance slightly nodded, “Yeah, it wasn’t always that way though. Plus it takes a lot of work to not exist.” Lance paused as he stepped out of the line of people, and looked back to make sure everyone was making it up the dilapidated road. He then too looked upwards towards the snow-covered mountain, as his mind started to make the trek to the top, and into the safety of its belly.

  He knew how hard it was just a few days ago, and now, with this many people and so many elderly and wounded. It would take a miracle to get everyone to the top. He then looked back towards Ms. White, “It took a lot of preparation before the lights went out, and it cost a lot of lives after the lights came back on, to get to where it is now. I brought everyone here, because, at this point, I don’t think there are many other choices, but know this. I bring everyone here cautiously. We have been able to stay hidden and intact because we avoid coming here if posable. Now, with all of this,” He threw a hand back towards the long line of slowly meandering people, “A single flyover will direct the Chinese, Regionals or now even the Russian to the heart of the resistance.”