The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  In a flash a rather good sized butterfly balisong knife appeared in her right hand. She had a throaty, sultry laugh. “I’m in your way. I suggest you surrender so you don’t get hurt.”

  “Shit. Why can’t things be easy?” Torbin mumbled.

  He tried to feint and get around her. She exploded at him. Her knife was a blur as she performed a type of figure eight Eskrima attack. Somehow, partly due to his body armor taking a couple of nasty strikes and partly due to his ability to move backwards, he managed to keep damage down to a couple minor cuts. He tried to score with his Ka-Bar in return, but was not even close.

  Heidi paused in her attack. “Give? Or do I have to kill you?”

  Torbin sighed. “Sorry, not in the mood to surrender.” He saw the .44 in the flower bed dirt and decided he would make a go for it.

  A familiar voice came from his left, Heidi’s right.

  “Torbin-san. Leave it to you to find an attractive woman in the middle of a battle.”

  It was Ichiro. Heidi quickly shifted to her left, so that she could see both men at once.

  “Please, gentle lady. No more fighting. There has been enough death today.” Ichiro slowly approached with both palms up, hands empty. Torbin thought he saw his katana handle protruding a bit over his left shoulder. He had removed his ninja headgear so that Heidi could see his face.

  “You want a piece of me too? Come on, bitch!” Heidi yelled at Ichiro.

  Once he appeared in range, Heidi attacked. Heidi was excellent; fast, sure, experienced. But Ichiro was at a whole other level. In a blur, he was inside her attack, knife hand trapped under his left armpit. Before she could react, Ichiro hit her left temple with the heel of his right hand. Her eyes fluttered, and her knees buckled. Ichiro gently lowered her to the ground, removing the knife from her hand as he did.

  “She is the fastest woman I have ever met, Torbin-san. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Torbin quickly strode over and recovered his .44 Magnum. “I sure am glad you have a habit of showing up at just the right time, Ichi.” He pulled a plastic tie he carried and secured her wrists behind her back. He checked her dog tags. “Heidi Faust. I think I’ll remember that name.”

  “Let’s go, Ichiro.”

  “One moment, Torbin-san. I have something for you.” Ichiro sprinted a few feet and pulled a long arm from a slight depression in the ground. He went and handed it to Torbin.

  “Damn. A BAR and a spare magazine. Where did you get this?”

  “Let us say, the person I took it from has no current use for it. Come, let us move quickly. There is a weak spot in the fence bottom over there that we can bend over and slip through. But we must hurry. We are being encircled.”

  Torbin followed Ichiro to the spot in the fence. It was a spot where an animal had dug under, probably a dog or raccoon. Torbin pulled a set of wire cutters he carried and clipped the fence wire until he and Ichiro easily bent a section up. Now, they had more than enough room to slide through the fence. Within a minute, they were on the other side, near the water.

  He and Ichiro began to head toward the causeway along the channel bank. They moved quick and sure. Some fifty feet from the causeway, Ichiro stopped so suddenly, Torbin almost ran into him.

  “What...” Ichiro drew and slashed with his katana in one smooth action at something suddenly rising from the water. It was a camouflaged Tschaaa. Two more slashes, then a thrust thru the eye, all in a blur of motion.

  “Give me room, Torbin-san.” Torbin jumped back and Ichiro became a whirling dervish, slashing and cutting at figures trying to exit the water. Torbin raised the BAR, a former Navy version re-chambered and re-barreled in .308/7.62 with two taped together magazines. He fired at something in the water that did not look right and was rewarded by a splashing Squid losing its color blending camouflage. Here he was, after six years without being close to a Tschaaa, and in the last few minutes, had quickly been inundated with them. What was going on?

  Ichiro scrambled toward the causeway proper. Torbin followed. From under the causeway as it crossed the channel, figures seemed to be boiling out of the water, some armed with cutting weapons, some not. Torbin swore and began picking his targets.

  Corporal Martinez had managed to head his small four man unit onto the causeway, carrying Sgt. Nelson in a two man fireman’s chair carry. PFC Black was watching the rear. They still heard some shots coming from the Gunny’s last position, which seemed to have distracted the Security Forces from noticing people were fleeing from the Base across the causeway. They scrambled down the four lane road on the causeway, nearing the guard shack at the entry control point. On the way out, Sgt. Nelson had been given a .308 rifle that a defender had no further use for. He carried it as his fellows supported him, scanning in front. He swore and fired up the causeway. “Squids!” Everyone looked up and saw Tschaaa crawling up the sides of the causeway road, over the guard rails. Some looked much the worse for wear, many appeared as if they had been injured. Some were armed, some not. However, rage was driving all of them. Most were not even trying to use their natural camouflage ability. It was if they wanted to be seen, to strike fear in their opponents.

  Andrew, after he ensured that the Director and Chief were climbing down to the blast shelter, strode quickly toward the causeway. He knew that a couple of the attackers were pinned down in the HQ Building parking lot. He also knew the others were fleeing across the causeway. Confusion reigned, despite Major Grant’s attempt to regain control. Security Forces, having now secured everyone else in blast shelters, were flowing to the sound of gunfire. Andrew knew he must go to the causeway and organize what personnel he could as a blocking force. He saw a squad of Riflemen come jogging down from a side street toward the causeway. He began a high speed dash to them when multiple Tschaaa came scrambling out of the channel water. The Riflemen slowed as their supposed allies approached. Without warning, a harpoon skewered one of the Riflemen in his abdomen. Then a Squid literally threw itself on a human, trying to rip the man apart with its arms and tentacles.

  Just at that moment, a stream of data updated his information systems. There had been massive casualties in the breeding Crèche’s from a watery blast wave emanating from the nuclear strike. Because the blast had not been contained in the center of the Marquesas Keys Complex, which would have been the result if the bunker buster had burrowed itself in the center of the complex, the blast had sent a heated and radioactive tsunami crashing across the ocean. Right into the reef breeding areas. It was believed over one thousand young and adolescents had been killed, were dying or injured. Dozens of adults were killed or dying, including twelve breeders. Many others were injured. Still more were insane with rage. They were attacking any humans they found.

  Major Jane Grant appeared and emptied her M-9 pistol into the Squid on top of the Security Troop. The creature shivered, then lay still.

  “Don’t just stand there! Get it off him!” Major Grant yelled at the surprised and frozen men. Two ran to help their comrade; the rest stared at Major Grant. As this happened, Andrew was broadcasting a cease and desist order in the Tschaaa language and frequencies. Some dozen individuals were approaching the Rifleman while he broadcast. Half stopped, but the other half, enraged, ignored his instructions. Seeing the Tschaaa approaching with murderous intent, Major Grant gave the only order she could. “Fire at the ones approaching.”

  The Riflemen opened up, semi-auto. Most were armed with 30 caliber weapons, so one or two well place rifle rounds seemed to either kill or cause the Tschaaa to flee, wounded. The half dozen attackers were neutralized. Then, one Rifleman began to fire full auto on the Tschaaa that had stopped. High velocity rounds ripped into the stationary Squids, ripping alien flesh.

  “Fucking Squids. Kill them all, like we should’ve done before!”

  The security man screamed in a rage to match the Tschaaa’s. Andrew was then beside him, grabbed the rifle and yanked it from his grasp. Andrew’s right hand clamped on the human’s throat, and he lifted him
up to look him in the eye.

  “I have stopped those Tschaaa you are shooting. You are wasting bullets, and exasperating the situation. You will stop. Yes?” The man’s eyes were bugged out, his breath cut off. Andrew held him for a moment, and then let him fall to the ground. The man laid gasping for air, held his throat.

  Andrew looked at Jane. “Major Grant. If you would be so kind as to follow me with these armed soldiers. There are some attackers trying to flee down the causeway.

  “Yes, Andrew. Alright. You heard him. On me.” The remaining effectives formed an assault line on Jane, and they began to follow Andrew, who had already begun striding ahead. Other Tschaaa crawled, lunged, slithered, and scrambled from the channel. Andrew tried to stop them with repeated warnings in the Tschaaa language. One refused to stop advancing and, in a blur of motion, Andrew picked up a rock and threw it with blinding speed. It imbedded between the Squid’s eyes, stopping it dead. The others began to part away from the approaching Andrew, like the Red Sea to Moses. They hissed, clicked and grunted as the humans passed. Only Andrews’ presence stopped them from mobbing the security personnel.

  Major Grant called to Andrew. “What the hell is going on? Why are they attacking us? I thought they said we were their allies.”

  “They have just experienced a horrible loss in their young, due to that nuclear strike. A loss in such numbers, all at once, is unknown since the Plague hit on their home world. They are in a murderous rage, a vicious mob similar to others in human history. But almost unknown in Tschaaa history.”

  Major Grant felt a cold hand grip her spine. If they were not controlled, the base could be wiped out. Andrew heard shots further on ahead, on the causeway. He began to stride faster.

  Ichiro and Torbin dashed up unto the causeway. Ichiro slashed a rapidly approaching Squid, at least his seventh, taking off two arms and a social tentacle before thrusting home into its brain. Two Warriors came clambering over the causeway railing, edged weapons at the ready. Torbin gave out a war cry and fired the BAR full auto. A half a dozen rounds smashed into the nearest one, a couple penetrating on into the torso of the second Squid. The second Tschaaa slid and twisted, trying to reach Ichiro. The Nippon warrior parried the long halberd weapon, sliced off the end of the arm holding it, then reversed his katana and thrust its blade through the right eye and into the alien brain. The creature shuddered and died.

  “Quite impressive, Torbin-san.” Ichiro said as he flicked Squid blood from his katana’s blade.

  “And, let me congratulate you on killing that Tschaaa with your Ka-Bar. Most excellent.”

  Torbin snorted at him. “I’m going to hurt for days. Let’s get moving. My men are ahead, up on the causeway.”

  Just then, Ichiro looked backwards. “Torbin-san, a robocop approaches from our rear.”

  Torbin spun around. “Damnit! Ichi, head down the causeway and catch up with my men. Get them to the pickup point. I’ll delay that robo.”

  “I cannot leave you, my brother. We will meet it together.”

  “Captain Yamamoto, that is not a request, that is an order. Move!”

  Ichiro paused for a second, and then saluted with his katana. “Hai. I go. I will sing your praises to my ancestors. I serve you with honor, my brother.”

  “Just go, and keep my men safe. I’ll catch up when I can.”

  As Ichiro began to run up the causeway, he yelled back at Torbin. “I killed the excrement Russian Colonel.”

  “I already figured that out long ago. Now, goddammit move!”

  Torbin turned and sighted the BAR on the approaching robocop. The weapon seemed to have a dutch load of AP, ball, and tracer. He had at least a few rounds left, so hopefully he could do some damage. He fired at Andrew’s face at fifty yards. Andrew deflected the round with his arm at blinding speed. Torbin fired a round at the robocop’s chest that ricocheted off. Then Andrew threw a rock with a windmill overhand pitch. It smacked hard into Torbin’s helmet, knocking him on his ass and leaving a divot in his helmet. Torbin sat stunned for a few seconds. As he tried to focus his eyes, a large hand grabbed the BAR from his hands. Then, another hand was grabbing his left leg and he was lifted unceremoniously upside down into the air. Andrew dropped the BAR, and yanked Torbin’s dog tags from his neck.

  “Hmmm. Captain Bender, Torbin R. Captain, you have caused us many problems and the Tschaaa much pain. I salute the abilities of you and your men, but now I must take you to the Director.” Torbin tried to reach the .44 Magnum pistol, and Andrew yanked it from his grasp.

  “The inscription says... Property of the President, U.S.A. That is your Madam President, yes?”

  Torbin glared at him upside down. “Yes. Now can you put me down, you big trash can!”

  With that, Andrew dropped him on his head. A moment later, Torbin was hoisted up by the nap of his fatigue top, and suspended in the air again. Andrew began to stride toward the HQ Building with his catch.

  Sgt. Nelson soon found out that a 30 caliber bullet between the eyes of a Squid usually put it down. He fired at a fifth Squid, an adolescent, trying to climb over the guardrail of the causeway. The round hit the guardrail top, just below the many-armed creature, and it fled back into the channel water. The bolt stayed open on an empty magazine. “Out of .308. Set me down so I can get the ’16 off my back.”

  Martinez and Moore set him down gingerly, Moore giving him a shoulder to lean on and help him stand with his injured legs. The morphine helped with the pain, but the damage to his thigh muscles made movement difficult. He unslung the M-16 with grenade launcher off his back and adjusted the tactical sling for forward carry.

  Cpl. Black, watching the rear with his Barrett 50, called out.

  “We’ve got company. A robocop and some armed soldiers are approaching the causeway. Shit. They just engaged some Squids. Something is definitely weird, the Squids attacking their lap dogs.”

  Moore looked back, and then turned to Sgt. Nelson. “Okay, you go across my back in a shoulder carry. You can watch my rear. Corporal Martinez, can you take point?

  “Gladly. Black, let’s get moving.”

  “Roger.” They started to move again, Sgt. Nelson held the M-16 by the pistol grip as he was carried across Moore’s shoulder. Wounded extraction had been practiced many times, so all the team members were used to carrying or being carried. PFC Black turned around and looked through his scope again.

  “Well I’ll be… the Captain’s on the causeway, shootin’ at the robo. And Captain Yamamoto is high tailing it to us.”

  “Keep moving. He can catch up,” Martinez said.

  Black turned forward again for a few steps, then looked back. An adult Squid had managed to climb up one of the support pillars and was clambering over the guardrail some ten yards back. Black paused long enough to fire a single 50 caliber at it. One second the Squid was there, the next minute it was cut almost in two, and tumbled back into the channel.

  “Goddamn, you’re loud!” Sgt. Nelson exclaimed.

  “Maybe so, but when I shoot you, you stay shot.”

  Ichiro had almost caught up to the fleeing men. He had momentarily thought about disobeying Torbin’s direct order, but that would have been a dishonor to his friend. He could only hope that Torbin could extricate himself from the enemy. He knew that if anyone could, it would be his blood brother. As he neared the four survivors, he called out, “I am approaching your rear.”

  “We saw you, Captain Yamamoto,” Cpl. Martinez called back. “Glad you could join us. Now what, Sir?”

  Ichiro reached them and matched his speed to theirs. “Captain Bender is delaying the pursuit and ordered that I was to ensure you escaped to the pickup location at the airport, where the plane is waiting.”

  “How do we achieve that, Sir?”

  “We find transportation for the wounded Sergeant, some type of vehicle or boat. I think a vehicle might be best as the Takos–Squids–seem to be all over the water. The faster we move on land, the harder it will be to get to us. The bomb blas
t made them extremely angry, so they are attacking all humans. As a result, the Security Forces may not be able to chase us effectively.”

  “Lead on, Sir. We’ll follow.”

  Ichiro surged ahead. Then, as they neared where the causeway connected to Highway One, several Tschaaa rapidly clambered onto the roadway from the nearby channel. Before the men could raise their weapons, Ichiro called out, “Hold back! I will clear them. It is much quieter than gunshots.”

  Cpl. Martinez, PFCs Moore and Black, and Sgt. Nelson were then presented an exhibition of sword play they would never forget. Ichiro strode up to the armed Tschaaa, who seemed to be caught off guard by the fact lone human was approaching a group of very angry Squids. In the blink of an eye, the Samurai was among the leading two. A blur of sword slashes and strikes, and the two adults were down, eviscerated. He next took on the two warriors. Parrying and slashing, he sliced off the tentacles of both, and then slashed the forward arms almost in half. He left them writhing on the pavement as the last two adults tried to encircle him. Cpl. Martinez pulled his silenced .22 caliber pistol and fired two rounds at the one Tschaaa trying to attack Ichiro’s from behind. It turned toward the source of the pain and started slithering toward the four men, rising up on its eight arms. By this time, Ichiro had performed his patented three slashes and a stab through the eye to the others. He glimpsed the last Squid trying to get to the men, dashed behind it, and slashed the rear two arms nearly in half. The Squid plopped to the pavement. He lunged to the left side and stabbed the Squid through its left eye, then leapt back. Writhing in pain, it tried to reach him with its grasping social tentacles. Ichiro danced out of range and signaled the four surviving assault team members to pass to the rear of the Squid. They did not have to be told twice.

  Ichiro danced around as the wounded Tschaaa bled out from its wounds. Dodging the badly wounded and still-writhing warriors, he sprinted to follow his unit. They were now moving northeastward up Highway 1 toward Marathon Airport. Sgt. Nelson, who still laid across PFC Moore’s shoulders, whistled. “Man, I’ll never watch old kung fu movies the same way again.”