by Javan Bonds
Rorschach, now having given natural light to the nest, aimed his pistol through the partially open door. Multiple peevies were choked up in the only exit towards their prey; stark stricken scared of the supernova sunlight. Many of those still active were mowed down by small caliber rounds until they ceased twitching.
A jittery peevie, running in a circle, caught a bullet in the side of the head above the left ear. Immediately after the skull was punctured, everything above the chin exploded. Brains and bone shards rocketed to the ceiling and the surrounding area. Taking one more step the headless body collapsed into a bleeding pile.
The next kill was a lucky strike for the protagonist, but quite unlucky for the unfortunate revenant. A tooth or other type of bone fragment shot from the erupting cranium and struck a nearby fellow peevie directly in its yellow eye. The mouth opened to deliver a scream but would never release anything more than a final gasp of air. Fingers tensed, and a limp penis shriveled within itself as the blue nudist collapsed. Hirotaro would never know that somehow, a molar, canine, or some other piece of the skull dropped this creature.
Another peevie, sitting cross legged on one of the top bunks, took a bullet in the side. The abdominal wall wound would have been easily survivable, but before digging into the gut, it nicked the radial artery in the wrist. Crimson gushed as the animal flailed. In fright, it toppled off the bed. Weakness from blood loss would overtake it before it could do much more than kick and scream on the floor.
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While Staff Sergeant Sako was busy with his friends in the cabin, The Phantoms simultaneously met their first customers. Well, actually their first customers met their high velocity lead. Both Clone Troopers dispatched their initial targets with cold efficiency.
A three round burst punctured Mahatma’s first mark above the sternum, otherwise known as the solar plexus. A small triangle was created by three dark holes. Life was shattered as the bullets ripped through arteries, the windpipe, and the esophagus. Any connection between the brain and the rest of the body were irrevocably severed. Vertebra exploded as the piercing bullets popped out the back above the shoulder blades. Lifeless, the reanimated corpse collapsed in a wet heap.
The green accented clone trooper on the other side of the sidewalk created even more of a disgusting mess. The zombie rounding the corner encountered a volley of stinging hot metal just below the belt. Typically, low shots were not killing blows. Unlucky for this revenant, The Screenwriter is a twisted individual indeed.
The initial round impacted the monster just above the left testicle and beside the flaccid penis. It exited somewhere out the right butt cheek, spewing blood and rancid shit behind it. Chunky motor oil with a hint of crimson covered the ground behind the demon.
The second round actually impacted the testicle itself as it exploded out of the rear of the now shriveled and useless sac. Fluid ran from the now gaping wound, gushing down the leg. The scene looked like a macabre attempt at creating a waterfall of blood. This cursed creature would never again experience pleasure, even if it wasn’t for the next hit.
At the same instant, the final and what would ultimately be the deadliest round punctured the infected just inside the thigh. The femoral artery ruptured. Blood began pumping from the soon to be deceased undead. If one thing could be said about the NSG commandos, it was that they didn’t fuck around. Neither will that poor blue bastard.
Suddenly dozens, possibly a hundred, screaming blunatics charged around either side of the building. Empty shell casings and spent magazines littered the ground at the heroes’ feet. No matter how many shit covered bodies dropped to the blood soaked ground, they were somehow gaining headway on the stoic adventurers. Melee combat would soon need to be initiated and Staff Sergeant Sako would happily join in the festivities.
Doshi lifted his bhuj and slammed it into the side of the neck of the first comer. The blade of the axe knife practically cleaved the head from the zombie’s body. Arterial blood pumped from the wound. Briefly, the still functioning brain made the mouth scream silently. Frantic yellow eyes went blank and diarrhea shot from its ass. Jerking, the body collapsed into a dying jumble.
Rajesh Mattu had a pair of peevies charging him. He reached out with his trishula and put all three blades into the stomach of the one on the right. Twisting the bladed staff and pulling it, every part of the gastrointestinal tract spilled onto the ground, a mass of steaming colors.
Before he could draw his weapon back and attack the other monster that was now almost upon him, Rorschach came to the rescue. Ivory, the elephant-bone handled katana, which was a trademark of the former Marine, sliced cleanly through its target. Steel impacted at the base of the neck and exited the body a few inches below the armpit. The surrounding infected eyes grew wide in realization when most of the body continued sprinting forward while the head and left arm didn't. The body now severed, finally ended its trajectory as the fluid rocketed out from the now defunct, inhuman beast.
“Appreciate the assist, sir!” the HIT called.
The blotted mask turned to Rajesh. “The void breathed hard on its heart, turning its illusions blue, shattering them.”
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Violent fighting continued until it became nearly monotonous. The detective’s routine became slicing an enemy on one side of the sidewalk, before throwing himself onto another foe on the opposite side. Still twitching body parts and oozing organs covered the ground around them. Soon the area would be ankle-deep in blood. Any insects and animals remaining in the vicinity would eat to their heart's content tonight.
Working his way around to the rear of the cabin Hirotaro brutally dispatched the last few stragglers. He rounded the corner just in time to see The Phantoms detonate their shaped C4 charge on the door. After a quick look inside, it was easy to determine the reason for the earlier jam at the front door. What looked like oil soaked, mounds of cotton seemed to be standing at least knee-deep throughout most of the room.
The infected's lives Rorschach had taken before the front door was fully open, littered the floor of the cabin. Nothing moved in the dim, musky anterior of the damp room. Stalactites of feces were scattered around the enclosure. For some reason, Hirotaro thought of the movie Alien. This made the hero smile uneasily. Moving to the bathroom door, he swore he could make out slow, heavy breathing. Chills ran up his arms even under the sleeves of his trench coat. Something else was here.
Sako and the green Trooper hugged either side of the door frame, prepared for mortal combat. Ivory’s blade pushed open the door. Absolutely nothing could be made out in the pitch darkness. Mahatma broke a glow stick and tossed it through the entry. Now, what could only be described as unbelievable horrors were literally brought to light.
The sadistic evil of the demonic peevies was breathtaking. Each stall had a chain, or a rope tied around the tank of the toilet. Thankfully, every stall appeared to be empty of anything living, or unliving. Amazingly, while most of the other surfaces in the bathroom were dripping in feces, the bowl of every toilet was impeccably clean. It wasn’t a simple lack of intelligence, to not use a waste receptacle, Hirotaro thought, but sheer spite and refusal!
Bones of every shape and size were piled in the corner by the wall urinals. While no living animals inhabited this room, the silent screams of the human skulls made clear the horrors of this slaughterhouse. Broken and sheared bones told the disgusting story of many a poor soul.
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Limbs had been hammered until they could be ripped away from the victim. Mud or some other type of insanely crude clotting agent must have been used to stem the flow of blood from the still beating heart. The infected could then chow down on an arm or a leg without having to worry about infecting their cattle and tainting the meat. Every member of pack could enjoy the taste of human by doing this. Why had it only recently become routine to harvest humans piece by piece?
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THE HIVE
Males would grow sexually aroused when in such close p
roximity to food and The Queen. Higher in status, the ruling female chose its mate. It didn’t matter that there was already a blue bun in the oven. There was no remembrance of when the fetus had been conceived, only that there was, in fact, a fetus. Males, and all non-reproducing females, would go out to hunt and quite often returned with sustenance.
Not every group resembled this one. In most packs, there were a multitude of pregnant females. As uncommon as it was, this assembly had formed around a single female that had maintained dominance through brute strength and force of will. One male attempted to take control but had been killed in a fight to the death, with The Queen.
Food less now than before. Pale ones hard to find near here. Many pale ones living on the large ground surrounded by water. Use the water as protection. Very smart these pale ones.
Some pale ones travel in to our lands. Swept up and changed as we were. When we capture one without changing we keep it alive for many light and dark cycles. Chopping meat bags apart with sharp things while we savor every drop of delicious blood and bone. We must make it last until another pale one is captured.
☠☠☠
Flanked by the HITs, Rorschach trudged through the large bathroom. No movement could be seen. But there was a thick, dark sludge under their feet, caked on the walls, and hanging from the ceiling. It seemed to pulsate, as if it were a living breathing organism. Peevie poop was so prevalent, so overpowering, it had almost taken on its own character role.
To their left, in the far corner of the room, stood a walk-in shower. As they moved closer a scuttling and shuffling came from somewhere within. The glow stick, that was thrown, had stuck in the thick feces covered wall, casting an eerie green glow into the shower. At least eight by eight, the shower took up at least a quarter of the bathroom. Pivoting to get an angle on the door, the investigators were secretly delighted to discover more living infected inside.
A female peevie, clearly pregnant, sat on an outcropping in the darkened cavern. Well fed, this creature appeared dominant over the subservient creatures in the room.
Facing the heroes with its arms rigid in a tight crouch, it let out a keening hiss. Turning, two slavish males saw that they wouldn’t have to go outside to get a bite, food had come to them!
The phantoms came around either side of Rorschach, blocking the exit from the filthy carved out wall. All three protagonists’ razor-sharp steel reflected the soft green glow from the broken light stick behind them. The cannibal nudists readied themselves for combat. Only one side would be walking away from here.
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The peevies came at each of the Clone Troopers in pairs. A small monster that looked to have once been an overweight, middle-aged man and its limping companion rushed at Mahatma. These were certainly not the first raging, blue hard-ons seen today. But one way or the other, the erections wouldn’t remain for long.
The entire left side of the limping peevie appeared to be paralyzed, utterly without strength. A stroke victim? Could this have happened recently? The heroes hadn't really paid enough attention to any of the blunatics before now to notice. It wasn’t surprising to see that physical handicaps carried over after infection.
The Storm Trooper, accented with black, twisted the ornate elephant head from the end of his axe knife and threw his arm back. He swiped across the belly of the fat ex-human. The recurved tip of the blade started just below the right ribs and cleanly split the animal to the opposite side. Intestines, spleen, pancreas, colon, and everything vital in the digestive process spilled onto the floor. Black diarrhea rolled out of the eviscerated organs and mixed with blood pooling on the floor. The scourge then brought its hands up to the empty pit of its stomach as Doshi completed his swing.
Bringing the stiletto blade on the end of the haft back around, he stabbed it into the side of the disemboweled peevie’s neck. The Phantom pulled forward, and the blade sliced violently outwards. Arterial blood, stomach bile still lodged in the esophagus, and mucus began pouring from the gaping throat. Mahatma kicked the animal in the chest, launching it onto its back and finally, unstringing it from its intestines. He stepped forward over the bloody pile of guts to meet the slower but persistent animal still coming at him.
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While Mahatma battled his opponents, his doppelganger, Rajesh Mattu, faced off against attackers himself. It was somewhat surprising to be assaulted by two females, however. One was extraordinarily tall and full chested, while the other appeared to be too young to bear offspring. Why would peevies use future caregivers as hunter/gatherers or protectors? Maybe those currently bearing children were more important to them.
The exceptionally tall monster, dove towards Rajesh at chest level. Triple blades of the trishula slammed evenly into the upper torso of the now diving female. Momentum drove the steel deeper into the body until it met the only thing in a flesh and blood reanimated corpse that would stop the razor-sharp slice. Sternum and ribs cracked either from the pure sharpness of the honed blade or stress fractures from the pressure.
Mattu nearly grinned when the breasts burst like water balloons. Implants. It was strange to see a rail-thin zombie, with giant breasts. Bloodied silicone oozed around the swords, halted only by bone. Though painful, the wound would have been survivable.
Survivable that is, if that were as far as it went. Rajesh continued the incision as the peevie collapsed, pulling the staff to him. All three blades pushed into the body, forcing their way down as the gashes became more profound until they had finally snagged on the collarbones.
The head of the zombie faced The Phantom while the feet lay on the floor. The face snarled in raw hatred as Rajesh drew back for a killing blow. There was no need to make the suffering of this creature last longer than necessary.
The green-tinged Clone Trooper didn’t realize the smaller revenant was simultaneously diving at his legs. When it collided with his shins, he tipped forward onto the adult beast impaled on his trishula. Bones crushed and soft body parts squished under his weight. The yellow-eyed cannibal attempted to choke out a bloody scream through its ragged throat. It succeeded in nothing but a raspy click and soft gurgling howl before life was snuffed out by the weight of the armored hero.
Rolling onto his back, Rajesh didn’t even look down at the disgusting mass on his chest plate. When he tried to sit up, the tiny, agile scourge launched itself onto him. Currently holding no weapon, the HIT would be forced to employ Kalaripayattu, an Indian form of martial arts, hand to hand self-defense skills. Much like the Israeli Mossad using Krav Maga. Fighting with a monster ravenously craving human flesh was going to be a workout, even with such a minuscule opponent. As frail as these creatures could look, they always packed a punch.
Mattu was surprised by the ferocious strength of such a small creature. It threw his arms back, extremely brawny for what appeared to have been a malnourished child in the world before May-Day. The beast was rolling him onto his front! Today wasn’t looking to be his day.
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Mahatma Doshi brought his bhuj in from his left at ninety-degrees to slice into the remaining peevie, still limping towards him. The axe knife slammed into the left bicep, shattering bone and cleaving most of the arm entirely from the body. Blood gushed from the stump as the useless appendage now traveled to the ground. His blade continued driving between ribs, rupturing the cardiac muscle. The crippled reanimant expelled its last black cloud of meager rations out of its backside and then collapsed into a lifeless heap.
Turning, The Phantom saw his Indian brother-in-arms on the floor, under a tiny, naked ape, which seemed to have unbelievable strength. The ravenous former human was turning Rajesh over in an attempt to get into his armor from his back. Mahatma rushed to come to his fellow’s aid.
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The movement could be heard painfully close, as the animal grunted, followed by a wet sucking sound that greeted Rajesh’s ears. The blue foot on his shoulder started going limp, along with the fingers clawing at his back. The sucking soun
d was heard again as the reanimated corpse collapsed. He turned to see white armor, nearly identical to his own, taking a knee beside him.
“Thanks, Foxtrot Niner Mike! I thought I was a goner.”
Doshi looks down at his comrade. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You would do it for me, Foxtrot Niner Romeo!”
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As the Clone Troopers took part in their separate conflicts, staff Sergeants Sako faced off with The Queen. Ivory zinged through the air in fast, precise swings. Like taking candy from a baby, Hirotaro thought. Completely bare skin, versus sharpened steel! One of Sako's favorite quotes from the character he now depicted hit him: All the whores and politicians will look up and scream at me to save them, and I'll look down and whisper “No.”
The katana sliced through empty air and drove into a ridiculous amount of shit. How did I miss the damn thing? The Queen moved faster than Rorschach anticipated. It was now crouching to his right. As he attempted to recover into a somewhat defensive stance something unexpected happened as his blade came up and over. The peevie launched itself up into the air and brought its feet forward together, drop-kicking the protagonist!
As his fedora flew from his masked head, Sako fell hard on his back. He was trying to catch his breath again when the impregnated monster landed, squarely on top of him. Immediately, the beast began grappling at the sleeve of his right arm, trying to gain purchase on bare skin. The sturdy material of the trench coat he wore acted as a barrier, for now.
With his free hand, the hooded detective reached to his side, inside the coat. Sako unsheathed Ebony, Ivory’s little sister, which was half the length of a regular katana. The perfectly honed and razor-sharp tip of the wakizashi blade whizzed up, melding into the flesh of the Queen. At the apex of its swing, Ebony cleanly separated the elbow and tricep from the right arm. The reanimated corpse stopped what it was doing, and its eyes grew wide. Its head slowly turned to take in the gushing wound.