“He’s for real. Isn’t he?” The woman asked.
“Yes, he is,” answered Sergeant Troy. “And thank God he is.”
Jacob Dark Wolf, cousin to the Mounted Militia Member of the same name, saw the women and two children first as they hurried through the bush. Then he saw the big assed dog, and recognized him. Sergeant Fuzz, the War Dog. Even though Jacob’s family name was Dark Wolf, he has been known since he could crawl as Talks With Dogs. As a baby, he was always crawling off whenever he saw a dog, trying to get to it. On more than one occasion a nursing female had accepted him as one of her own, which caused some consternation on the part of his mother and grandmother. As he became older, dogs naturally came to him. And woe to anyone caught abusing a dog when he was around. No matter how big the person was, he or she soon found that there was a Tasmanian Devil in their midst. As he grew, people knew not to hurt any dogs, ever. Today he was tall, slender without the bulk and size of his cousin. His body was more a runner’s physique.
Jacob had wanted to train to be a vet. Then the Squids came. He swung his leg over and slid down off his horse, calmly greeting Fuzz.
“Hello, Sergeant Fuzz. You’re even bigger than I realized.”
Fuzz came cautiously up to him, sniffed his extended hand, gave it a quick lick, He wagged his tail twice, gave a doggie grin, a woof, then was off back the way he had come.
“Where is he going?” Jacob asked.
“Back to Captain Young. She was going to stop some Krakens who were following us. She and Fuzz killed two already.”
“How far back is she?”
“One, two miles. Hard to say. I was concentrating on moving here.”
In a flash, Jacob made a decision.
“Corporal.”
“Yes Sergeant?”
“I’m heading down to help the good Captain until more of us arrive.”
To the woman, he asked, “You can ride, right?”
“Yes Sir. Kids too.”
Within moments Jacob had both children and their mother on his horse.
“What’s your name, Ma’am?”
“Susanne.”
“Well. Susanne, just follow the good Corporal here. We have some more militia moving in behind us, so you should be able to hook up. Corporal.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“Hit up the other Squads. See who’s around. I’m going after Captain Young and Sergeant Fuzz. Hit me on my cell phone if you need me.” He turned to Susanne.
“You’ll be okay.”
“Bring them back. Bring back Sergeant Fuzz and the Captain. We owe them.”
“Will do.” And then Jacob Dark Wolf was gone down the trail where Fuzz had disappeared.
He made good time in a jogging lope, much like his four-legged namesakes did when following prey. It was said that only humans could outlast wolves in this type of long distance running, although wolves had the edge in short bursts of speed. He did not want to rush in too fast, not knowing what he was getting himself into so no sprints, burst of speed. He had been moving for several ten minutes or so when he heard the gut wrenching scream. Then the shots. Then more screams, shots, wails. Then silence.
Jacob Dark Wolf flicked the safety off his assault rifle, then slid off of the trail he had been traveling on. He took a slight detour, found an area where the trees and brush were thinner, then headed parallel to the actual trail. He was close, he could sense it. Finally, through an opening in the brush and trees, he saw a figure, kneeling, rocking back and forth. At first, he thought the person wore a new reddish brown form of camouflage, a bit out of sync with the local flora and fauna. As he moved closer, he saw the figure was actually covered in blood, from head to toe. It was Abigail Young. She held Sergeant Fuzz in her lap and arms, rocking, sobbing.
Jacob slowly walked up to her. In a soft low voice, he called out.
“Captain Young. Sergeant Dark Wolf …”
Something that was no longer in a human state glared and growled at him, her blonde hair soaked in blood. Too much blood to be Fuzz’s. He slowly backed off. She stopped growling, went back to holding and rocking her dead friend. Jacob got on his cellphone, obtained a signal. He quickly texted “Dustoff Medevac now. Captain Young, Sergeant Fuzz down. Need help ASAP.” Then he put in the coordinates he could get off of his GPS feature, as well the approximate distance from Evanston. He had red smoke he could pop when they got close. He then circled around Abigail, checking for possible threats. What he found he never forgot.
The grays were surprise enough. But the bodies… He crossed himself, being a Christian. As he pulled a small digital camera he always carried from his ditty bag, he began to recite the Psalm 23. “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want; he maketh me lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me besides still waters…”
“Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall feel no evil, for thou art with me…”
Though Christian, Jacob also recited a couple of short Cheyenne chants to ward off Evil Spirits. Death had come to live in this place. It would take years for this area to be with life again.
Jacob counted twelve bodies besides the grays. These did not include two more he found about twenty five yards away, which apparently were the ones that had tried to abuse Susanne and her children. Those two had died quickly, simply, their throats ripped out, slashed. The other twelve humans…Jacob shivered. He had never seen the type and level of destruction done on human bodies. How could one person do this? He shivered again. The Wyoming Mounted Militiaman did a wider circle around where Abigail Young stayed with her K-9 friend. A radio on of the dead Krakens crackled for a moment. He heard someone approaching from the approximate direction that the other dead had been coming from. Two voices, not exactly quiet or subdued. Jacob did not what to use his rifle, as he did not have any sound suppressor system on it. So he removed his fighting tomahawk he had stuck in his ditty bag, his fighting Bowie with the knuckled hand guard from his belt. Then, he stepped in the shadows, waited.
The two men, Krakens, walked up, talking about finding the missing squad. Then they came upon the bodies farthest from Abigail.
“What the fuck!” The larger of the two hard corps Krakens, face tattoo and all, exclaimed.
“Look at these bodies. It looks like they ran into a meat grinder.”
“I don’t like this, Bud,” the smaller one said. “Let’s call for backup.” He began to reach for his radio. Jacob stepped out from the shadows behind them. He swung the tomahawk in his left hand into the throat of the larger Kraken, slashing the smaller Kraken with his Bowie, the neck severed and spurting blood. They were dead before they realized it.
Jacob said a small prayer for forgiveness, then wiped his weapons on the dead Kraken to clean the blood from them. He went back to check on Abigail. She was in the same location, cradling Fuzz. The scene tore at his guts, knew what it was like to lose a beloved and loyal dog. To Jacob Dark Wolf, dogs were better than most people, were honest, innocent. They would die for you, just as Sergeant Fuzz had done for Abigail. Which is why he knew it hurt her so much. She would just as soon have it be the other way, in which she died for Sergeant Fuzz. He watched her in silence, listened for any more approaching Krakens. Then he heard the chopper.
Jacob moved closer to where the first two bodies were, into a small clearing. He popped the red smoke, then texted on his cell phone to Security Control that the chopper was in sight, watch for the smoke. The Squids had never tried to hack into their communication systems, and the Krakens demonstrated no proclivity for such action, so he did not worry about it at this late date. Besides, they needed to get the Captain out of here.
He watched as two figures fast roped in, then the helicopter circled away. No need get shot at by staying and hovering. The two Pararescue troops were down in a flash and Jacob stepped from the shadows.
“She. Bear.” Simple default challenge words for the day to prevent accidents.
The nearest of the two Paras was a bear of a man,
with subdued Chief Master Sergeant’s stripes on his fatigues. Well over six feet with a handlebar mustache, he had used some camo stick to cover the light gray in his hair.
“Chief Leroy Thompson,” he said in a low tone.” You Sergeant Dark Wolf?”
“Yes Chief.”
“Good. This is Staff Sergeant Sean Mason.” This second man was of good size, but nowhere near the size of the Chief. He had dark hair, would later say he was from the black Irish.
“Please come with me. I have a unique situation here.” They followed Jacob the some twenty-five yards through the brush, then saw Abigail.
“My God. What happened?” Chief Thompson was not easily surprised. But this.
“She and Sergeant Fuzz killed some Krakens. Rescued a woman and her two children. Captain Young apparently sent Fuzz to lead out the civilians to us, which he did. He then took off, back here. Captain Young had apparently stayed back to intercept some approaching Krakens, and draw them off the scent.”
Jacob took a breath let it out. “As near as I can tell, she was hit by two grays. What the hell they were doing out here, God only knows. But it looked like Fuzz saved her. Then, I think the grays killed Fuzz in the struggle, or some of the next ten Krakens did. I don’t know for sure. All I know is there is a charnel house over there in there bush and trees.” Jacob pointed out the area.
“Only Captain Young and Fuzz are around.”
“Her condition?” asked Sergeant Mason.
“Some type of major psychic disconnect. She snarled and growled at me when I approached. It’s like she is a K-9 protecting her pup. Like she took on a War Dog’s personality.”
They were all quiet for a few moments. Then the Chief spoke.
“Well, the chopper comes back in ten, unless I wave it off. So, I need all the extra morphine you two have. We’ll try to sedate her, a little at a time, get her controlled to be put in the rescue basket.”
“Sergeant Fuzz, he goes also,” Jacob interjected.
“Sergeant Dark Wolf. He’s dead.”
“He is a soldier. No one gets left behind. Or I’ll carry him out.”
The Chief fixed him with a cold stare. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Chief. I would.”
The Chief looked at Abigail, who had been ignoring their low-toned conversation, still holding onto Fuzz.
“Well, I guess she won’t let go of him anyways. We’ll try to take them on the same basket. The cable will hold several hundred pounds in a pinch. I’ll have them drop a spare rope just in case.”
He looked at Jacob. “You look like you weigh the least. You go up first with them. Been in a chopper before?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Okay. Let’s get this ball rolling. Morphine out.”
The three men slowly approached Abigail, Jacob doing the talking.
“Captain Young, it's Dark Wolf again. The Sergeants and I here are going to help you and Fuzz, Medivac you out of here. We just need to…” Jacob lightly put his hand on her arm.
All hell broke loose.
Later the three NCO’s would testify that it was like a whirling dervish, Tasmanian Devil and demon all wrapped into one. She began to scream, kick, punch, bite, scratch, and do other things the human body should not have been able to do. Sergeant Mason was thrown yards away, Jacob held on despite having the wind knocked out of him with a kick to the stomach, and the Chief tried to use his many pounds of extra weight to hold Abigail down, She literally stood up with the two men hanging onto her, started to pry their hands off .
Sean Mason threw himself on her, began pumping morphine via injectors into her. Abigail sunk her teeth into his forearm.
“Goddamnit!” he cursed. “We’re trying to help.”
The Chief grabbed her hair, tried to pull her loose from Sean. She let go, then head butted the Chief in his nose, breaking it. But this was not the first time that had happened, so the Chief hung on. Jacob, some of his wind back, tried to a punch to the gut to knock the wind out of her. It was like hitting a sheet of iron. Suddenly, Abigail grabbed Jacob by the throat with her left hand, lifted him off the ground as if he were a doll. Sean slammed another morphine injector into her,
“Much more and it will kill her.” Sean cried out.
“Do it!” The Chief yelled. “She’s killing us!”
Abigail began to wobble a bit. The Chief took this slight imbalance to trip and push her to the ground. For his efforts, Abigail broke his left pinky finger.
Then the three men pig piled on top of her, trying to hold her down. Sean Mason readied another injector, but was afraid it would kill her. Finally, Abigail began to go limp, groaning and whining. Then, she was down for the count. As Mason monitored her vitals, the Chief reset his nose, then taped his left little finger to its brother.
“I have not had a fight like that since…ever.”
Jacob looked at Abigail. “She is affected by…something else. In the Old Ways it would be said she had been touched by a spirit of some sort. Her mind, her soul is…elsewhere.”
“Well. She is breathing steady, thank God,” Sean Mason interjected.
Then they heard the approaching chopper.
“All right, Gentlemen. I’m calling them to drop the basket as soon as they get here. I’m popping smoke so they drop it right here. I don’t want to move her any more than we have to. Dark Wolf, get ready to go up with the basket.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“All right, here goes.” The Chief popped the smoke flare.
The chopper was a former Customs and Border Protection Blackhawk that had been found hidden at a small remote field. Now it was set up for combat zone dust off. No sooner had it began to hoover that the basket stretcher was dropped on a quick line. With practiced ease, the Chief and Mason quickly steadied the basket on the ground, undid the straps. The Chief and Jacob picked up Abigail, laid her in the basket, and adjusted the straps. Jacob then lifted up Sgt. Fuzz, and they strapped the dog on top of his mistress. They knew she should would not mind.
“Alright, Sergeant. You’re up.”
They hooked a safety line onto Jacob as he balanced himself on the basket. The Chief signaled and the Crew Chief activated the hoist, and up the basket went, Jacob balancing as best he could.
Within moments, the Crew Chief was steading and swinging the basket in by the movable hoist arm. Jacob unhooked his safety strap from the basket, hooked it to a d-ring in the chopper, then helped unhook the basket from the hoist and secure it.The Crew Chief quickly swung the hoist back out with body straps and sent the line back down. Jacob removed Sergeant Fuzz’s body from the basket, laid him long ways on some seats and strapped him in. He then turned back to Abigail. He checked her breathing. It seemed normal for someone that had just been jacked up by morphine. He turned toward the open access door and watched the Crew Chief steady the line as he activated the hoist.
Hell chose that moment to reappear.
Abigail’s eyes popped open and she let out a howl.
The chopper pilot, a Captain Blue yelled out, “What the hell is going on back there?”
Abigail began to strain at the straps as Jacob moved toward her.
“Captain Young. It’s okay. You’re being Medevaced…”
Straps began to break as Abigail howled, twisted and kicked. This was not supposed to be possible, but it was happening. Jacob tried to hold her down, received a nasty hit to the testicles as the Crew Chief tried not to be thrown out the door. Despite the Blackhawk’s size, Abigail’s thrashing while the hoist was swung out and lifted two bodies caused the chopper to yaw, vibrate.
“Goddamnit. Secure her or shoot her. I will not lose my chopper to a crazy bitch!”
“No!” A new voice screamed out. Lt. Shannon Bell, co-pilot, unhooked and scrambled back to the passenger seats. The Crew Chief was hanging half out of the bird while trying get the hoist up, the Chief and Mason dangling helplessly just below the side door. Jacob was trying to get up, holding his painful family
jewels. Shannon saw Abigail’s wild eyes, and her heart sank, her stomach knotted. It appeared as if no one was home behind those eyes. Abigail screamed “Fuzz!” and Shannon knew what she had to do.
She grabbed Abigail’s face in her hands, screaming at the same time. “Abigail! Look at me. It’s Shannon.” Abigail paused in her thrashing about for a moment and Shannon pointed over to Fuzz’s strapped down body.
“There is Fuzz. See? We have him too. Okay?”
Shannon finally saw a bit of recognition in Abigail’s eyes.
“Shannon…Fuzz hurt.”
“I know. We’re going to the hospital. But you have to calm down. Okay?’
Abigail looked at her. “Shannon…Fuzz hurt bad.” Then she closed her eyes and fell back into the basket. She was out again. Shannon tried not to sob, but failed.
“It’s okay, Lieutenant.” It was Jacob, up again. “I’ll strap her in again, sit with her.”
She looked at him. “Okay. She’s my sister.” With that she made her way back to her co-pilot’s seat.
“Lieutenant, you ever leave your seat again like that and I’ll…”
“You’ll fucking shoot me, right Captain Blue?” she spat at the pilot.
“Fine. Do your worst. That’s my sister back there. And she’s dying inside.”
The Captain had a puzzled look. “Your sister? How…”
“You wouldn’t understand. You can court martial me when we get back. I don’t care.”
Other than the minimum communication to help fly the aircraft, Shannon Bell was silent all the way back to Malmstrom.
The Crew Chief finally got Chief Thompson and Sgt. Mason off the hoist, into the chopper.
“That was not a pleasant experience,” said Mason.
“That was very screwed up,” added the Chief. “Thanks, Crew Chief, for not dropping us on our heads.”
“De nada. Is that Captain Young, the Avenging Angel?”
“The one and only.”
The Crew Chief looked at her and Fuzz.
“You know, she doesn’t look ten feet tall, like she does on the boob tube. But goddamn she is strong.”
Typhoon of Steel Page 10