by Doug Burbey
The general paused for a minute taking a sip of water and Declan tried to absorb what he had said, and pieces started to snap together. "There had been almost no bodies found in any of the cities attacked by small hordes and people had wondered where all the dead disappeared to. It is believed that the demons were carrying away our human dead for some reason." The general paced slowly around the room, with his arms clasped behind his back as he continued his briefing.
"In the recent large horde attack on Guadalajara, the newest tactic of the demons has disturbed a lot of people. With a population of almost one and a half million and a population density of approaching thirty thousand people per square mile, the number of survivors from the city proper hadn't even hit a quarter of a million. Which meant they should have had over a million bodies to deal with, and there were almost none."
General Craig returned to the front of the room and sat on the edge of the desk. "Here's where it gets weird people. They found the occasional trapped person, and a few crushed in collapsed buildings, but most of the people just were gone. Now the rescue parties have discovered a million piles of desiccated and powdered remains that we think reinforces the concept that the demons want to harvest human blood, not kidnap them, and large hordes do that immediately on the battlefield with the larger 'harvester tankers' instead of pulling the human bodies back home with them."
The general reached to the top of the desk and picked up a clipboard full of sheets of paper and began to flip through them, occasionally glancing up at various people in the room then he continued his brief to the group. "As part of this, we've learned there is a subsection of our population that can use magic and another subsection of humans that have trace elements of Fae or demon blood in their veins."
The room went icy still. In a regular classroom Declan knew people would be shouting and angry voices, in a military classroom the complete silence and fixed attention gave him chills, even as his entire being focused on what the general was saying.
"From what we can determine so far, at some point in our distant past these various races interbreed with humans. This would imply a single ancestor lineage at some point in history. But because of that, some of us have traces of Fae or demon DNA in our blood. The angel is still possible but so far no one has come forward to prove or disprove it. But at this point, hell, nothing is off the table."
He cleared his throat and hit a button. On the wall behind him, a screen extended, and the ceiling-mounted projected displayed an image, maybe the most famous image in the world. The Devastation of Moscow.
A picture of Red Square, at an angle where both the Kremlin and Saint Basil's cathedral should have been visible as their multicolored domes reflected the red light in the sky. Instead, an empty field of rubble lay in the camera angle, chunks of blue, red, and green material from the destroyed building reflecting the light, even as the statue of Marshall Zhukov lay on its side, the broken legs of his bronze horse jagged evidence of the violence.
"Now, let's get into their machines, their tactics, and what we know."
Image after image of the blood harvesters, demons, their versions of tank-like mechanizations mounting demonic heavy weapons, the rough forged hand-held weapons the demon leaders carried that looked like hammers or sometimes swords and the deaths of civilians and soldiers. By the time they broke for lunch, Declan didn't think he could eat but something hot sounded good.
Coffee. Although right now a lot of whiskey with a bit of coffee would be really good.
Shane walked with him, his body held tight, a pensive look on his face that usually spelled bad choices for both of them. But Declan didn't say anything, just headed to the mess hall. The class of people walked quietly, the subject too heavy for them to be anything but somber.
Lining up at the chow line, he opted for split pea soup, some bread, and coffee. He'd probably be hungry later but right now the idea of spaghetti, which was the lunch, sounded like a recipe for upchucking.
They had twenty minutes left of their thirty allotted to them for lunch, but he still picked at his food, forcing himself to eat.
"So? What do you think? Think it's the truth?"
Declan shrugged, glancing up at Shane who had broken their silence. "If they're lying, I can't see any benefit. Did you register the body counts? In three hits they harvested." The word left a bitter taste on his tongue. "Millions of people. People who will never see their families again."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. But remember at this point it's a statistic. We can't change it. I'm talking about the magic. If we can learn that, then maybe we could fight back stronger. Take the battle to them, or maybe just find new worlds altogether."
The odd wistful tone caught Declan's attention and he focused on Shane cocking his head a bit as he dipped his bread in the soup.
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. Come on. I want more coffee so I have something to drink while in class."
Declan narrowed his eyes, shook his head and focused on getting the food into him. Then some more coffee, still without the whiskey part, unfortunately.
By one o'clock everyone sat back in the classroom looking at the wall with a stunned look on their face and Declan remained very glad he'd eaten so little at lunch. On the wall was a picture of a demon. Its body was cut open and labeled with little arrows everywhere about the body parts.
"We're going over the demons we've managed to get a hold of so far. I'll inform you of what few weaknesses we have discovered so far and show you the best ways to kill them. You'll learn why they are so damn hard to kill and why calling down an airstrike on yourself may be a valid option."
The calm way he said the words sent a chill down Declan's spine and lowered the mood in the room even further as the General began to talk.
The next three hours had covered what they called ring one and two demons, the most common and easiest to kill. Their internal structures were similar to that of humans, and not much tougher than a human hopped up on steroids and PCP. This proved to lift the mood of most people as the General wrapped up.
Except there seems to more of these weaker demons that we have bullets to kill them with.
His pessimism wasn't altered by the General's next comment.
"A last word before you go. Tomorrow we will have testing to see if you have magical sensitivity and if you can be trained. Note, the testing is mandatory, but we will not require you to move into that military operational specialty. A magical skill MOS is strictly volunteer. However, every ability to fight these invaders should be explored. If you are fortunate enough to have an extra skill that can be used against these monsters, I would expect you to use it." He gave everyone a sharp nod. "See you all in the morning."
Shane managed to stay quiet until they had separated from the main group of people.
"You hear that? Magic testing. That shit would be awesome. Oh, to have something that powerful to use against these demons. I'm curious how they use the blood for power."
Declan glanced at him. "You really want to use magic? Seems to me if blood is involved that can't be good for anyone."
Shane shrugged. "Everything has a price, and at least blood is replaceable. So, seems like a cheap option to me. Heck, easier than all the sweat we've paid for these." He flicked his collar and the major's oak leaf shaped rank attached to it.
Declan snorted. "Point. Maybe. I'll see you at the pub later tonight, but I still think playing with magic sounds like playing with fire. You might just get burned."
"Oh, but what an interesting way to go." The glow and smirk on Shane's face didn't allay any of Declan's concerns at all.
Chapter 8
Adios Fido, 1530 November 6th, 2014, Fort Bliss Texas
Declan walked past the Fort Bliss headquarters building and noticed how the base now mimicked a hive of bees with soldiers, enlisted and officers, scurrying everywhere prepping for the next attack. None of the briefings he had received explained the logic behind the incursions, but surely even the
demons had to deal with supply chains and logistics also.
That would explain the small raids lately instead of the large horde attacks. At least I think it would. Declan vigorously followed all the public and military reports he could get his hands on about the major demon incursions. So far, they had been in different parts of the globe, which could mean anything from an entire world attacking Earth, to non-Euclidian geometry from where ever they were attacking from. Neither made any of the eggheads feel secure in their assumptions, and screaming matches erupted regularly as disagreements on how to interpret data lit fuses on already short tempers.
Declan moved across the base at a brisk stride. He tossed off salutes automatically without any conscious thought as to who he was or wasn't saluting. His mind wrapped up with the information they had learned about demons, and how damn (literally) tough some of the higher ring level demons were. He and a lot of other people were still struggling with the reality of it. Throwing magic into the mix didn't help.
He snorted to himself as he walked, barely paying attention. Right now, he wanted a drink, preferably shared with Shane. He'd barely seen his best friend since he got accepted into the mage skill set. From all accounts, he was a rising star for them. The new additional skill set of mage carried an annual bonus that tempted even Declan. Granted, you had to be alive to get any use of it. But the money did make for a sweet carrot.
Declan headed straight for the elementary school that had been repurposed into a training area for mages. Most non-combatants had been evacuated to safer places, though after Moscow no one had any idea what qualified as safe. Declan found himself glad for the first time in years that he had no one to worry about. But the school had no ammo or caches of explosives and the playground made a good place for people to play with magic without risking damaging equipment they couldn't afford to replace right now. The first tank that disintegrated convinced everyone of that. Even if the damn insane mages thought it rocked.
Declan unconsciously clenched his fists.
That is part of the problem. When they started playing with magic they all seemed to go a bit crazy. Quickly. And it is more reason to not mess with that crap at all.
The grim thought made him pick up his pace a little. Surely Shane wouldn't change. If this war cost him his best friend too then he might as well go down in a blaze of glory.
Rounding the corner, Declan slowed as chanting reached his ears. He stopped at the edge of the building watching the people on the blacktop where what seemed like a lifetime ago kids would have been playing basketball or hopscotch.
They were figuring out the magic with the use of old books, hoarded vials of blood from the demons and runic inscriptions that seemed to be powered by blood. From what the scientists had figured out you could either cast magic using your own power, cast it using the power from the blood of others, or create a longer-term enchantment that you recharged by adding blood into a rune inscription. All of it made his skin crawl. Though the enchantments bugged him the least. That at least could be powered by most people with only a drop or two. Granted the enchantment magic didn't have the flashy dramatics as the other stuff but he didn't feel like spiders crawled all over his naked body when he was close to that magic.
The way they were crawling all over him now.
Everyone assigned as a mage candidate wore black BDU's with a patch of purple runes inside a circle, the new Mage branch emblem. It had no shock value though and he still didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. Eight people stood there, six men and two women. From the rumors he heard, they didn't know if that ratio simply matched the ration of men to women in the service or if men leaned towards magic more. Granted, he also didn't care as he had refused to join Shane in transferring to the Mage training. Declan instead now focused on how to adapt the modern military tactics into demon fighting tactics.
I don't care what those contrived bullshit test results claimed to show. I don't do magic.
A small dog, probably one of the abandoned pets from when they made families ship out, sat in the middle of a circle drawn on the blacktop. It ate at a bowl of food with enthusiasm and basically ignored all the humans around it.
A colonel stood watching them, a notebook in his hands. He said something Declan couldn't make out, but he saw Shane step forward and his world narrowed to just watching his best friend.
Shane took a deep breath, looking at the symbols drawn on the ground, crouched, cutting his finger with a knife that hung at his waist, and let three drops of blood hit the symbols. They flared with a color his mind said was the sound of rain on a tin roof, which made no sense.
No, I don't do magic. I won't sell my soul.
Shane said something, and the dog snapped out of existence, leaving an empty circle.
Where the fuck did the dog go?
The assembled soldiers cheered and Declan felt his throat go so dry he couldn't even swallow.
The colonel waved them away, and Shane turned and saw him walking over with a huge smile on his face.
"Declan. Damn it's good to see you. You see that shit? How cool is it? We've been learning how to teleport living creatures. We've tripled our knowledge in the last few weeks. I think we might be able to start hurting demons soon. If nothing else we think we can blind them, confuse them, and maybe add enchantments to bullets to make them more effective." His grin came across as almost manic and Declan had to resist taking a step back. "You wouldn't believe how much old role-playing game manuals are helping with giving us ideas on how to use this. You really need to join us." Shane shot the others a look and dropped his voice. "It is true what they say, that you had the highest score yet on aptitude for magic?"
"What happened to the dog?" Declan asked ignoring the question. His eyes still drifting back to the empty circle.
Shane shrugged. "No idea. We think we transported it to the other side of a portal point somewhere, but we're waiting to see if the GPS chip pops up any place. The first few just got turned inside out, then a few more ended up on the other side of the country. But we think we've figured it out."
Feeling trapped, as if in a dream where no matter how fast you ran you never got any closer to the exit, Declan turned to look at Shane. The Shane who while on leave after basic training had found a hurt dog on the road, drove twenty miles to take it to a vet, paid all the fees and found someone to adopt it. The same Shane who made him change the channel during the ASPCA commercials because they made all the dust in the room collect in his eyes. That man now blithely talked about the animals they had just killed.
Declan felt nausea rise in his throat, but he forced himself to talk. "Thought I'd see if you wanted to get a beer?"
"Sure." Shane fell in step with him as Declan started to walk, feeling like a robot as his mind grappled with this personality shift. "Still say you should think about it. The yearly bonus is insane. And if I can get good enough, well I'm not sure where the limits are."
"Yeah," Declan mumbled, but Shane didn't seem to notice.
"It's interesting we all have affinities to different types of spells. Janice is wicked good with destructive stuff. Given what I've seen her do with demon blood I don't ever want to get on her bad side. Having my dick explode would be the least of what she would do to me."
"Janice Shuller?" Declan asked, the cold feeling wrapping tighter around him.
"Yeah. She wasn't here today, drained herself a bit yesterday. She uses her own power and demon blood. Caused one of the captured subjects' blood to boil. Grossest thing I've ever seen."
Declan decided right then that he would never join the mage specialists. He'd dated Janice. She was a vegetarian and only her desire to serve made her join the army. She'd been an intelligence specialist as her shooting and physical skills barely passed the minimums, but her pattern recognition and brains had been through the roof. He wanted to deny that she could ever do something so cruel. Hell, only the fact that they weren't human by any stretch, and even resident cognitive capabilities didn't apply t
o some of the lower ring demons, prevented Geneva violations. Well, that and the entire world would gladly see every demon roasted alive.
"Interesting," Declan managed to get out, already planning on having whiskey or twenty.
Shane kept talking as they walked each word hammering at Declan's soul.
Why do I have the bad feeling this will be the last beer I share with my friend, Shane? And any other beer I drink with him, won't be as friends anymore.
Chapter 9
New Tactics - 1530 November 29th, 2014, Fort Bliss Texas
Major Kenner stood at the head of a tabletop model of the city of Moscow in the large conference room that had been converted into the new tactics development workspace. The walls were lined with computer monitors running videos acquired from the demon attacks and the desks were cluttered with photographs and classified files shared by foreign militaries.
General Craig motioned for Declan to begin. "OK, Kenner, let's hear your take. What could have been done differently had you overseen the Russian response?"
The general had given the small assembled group of senior noncommissioned officers and officers an assignment to throw away what they knew about human-on-human warfare tactics and figure out a better way to fight the demon hordes. Nothing was off the table and 'out of the box' thinking was not only encouraged but required. They were not making much headway and the general was less than pleased with his hand-picked group of combat veteran tacticians.
Since being given the assignment, Declan had been fighting against his long-engrained military leadership training that revolved around the thought of 'mission first and people always'. Clearly, the Army must always accomplish its mission. That was never a doubt in planning an operation, but it's also key to make sure you are considering the cost to the people against the cost of the mission. If your entire force is killed, or civilian casualties are too high, then such tactics would inevitability lead to the loss of the war even if you won that singular battle. But, what if the cost to the people was not a consideration? What if every battle was fought as if it was the only one in the war. What if absolutely nothing but accomplishing the mission was what mattered? Could you treat every engagement as if it was the World War II bombing of Dresden where the mission objective's value overweighed all other costs?