He walked into the hallway of the Temporary Quarters Building and punched a hole in the wall. Then another. Somehow, it just wasn’t very satisfying.
“Gunny, you okay?” It was a woman’s voice. He looked up and saw dark-haired Captain White, in her flight suit, standing with a couple of bags in her hands.
“Ah, sorry Captain.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I guess this isn’t very professional, is it?”
“Gunny, we heard over at the squadron about your brother William. Some of the people knew him, and thought very highly of him…”
“A lot of good that does him now!” Torbin snapped before he could catch himself. “Ah, fuck. I mean, sorry Ma’am. I’m not very good company right now.”
“Call me Lori. Forget the rank. Is your room nearby?”
“Yeah. Over there.” He grabbed one of the bags from her without thinking, walked over and unlocked, opened his door. They went in and he set the bag on the room’s table.
“Can I get you a drink, Captain? I have some beer…”
“Gunny, I came over to share a drink with you. That’s what’s in the bags.”
Torbin looked in the one he had carried. There were bottles of scotch, tequila and bourbon.
“I need to toast Lieutenant Roth, along with everyone else we have lost. Including your brother.”
“Captain…”
“If you don’t start calling me Lori, I am going to get angry. You don’t want to see me angry.” She said it in such a serious voice that Torbin suddenly started laughing.
“What? You going to go all she-Hulk on me? Turn green, start punching holes in the walls?”
Lori burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to sit down at the table. Torbin joined her. Finally, they both stopped, wiping tears from their eyes. Torbin looked at the Captain.
“Humor. God’s way of helping us cope.”
“I couldn’t agree more…Torbin.” She looked into his eyes.
“Church goer?”
“No. But it’s true, you know. There are no real atheists in foxholes. Now, Lori, let me get the ice and glasses.”
“I brought us some eats. Philly cheesesteak sandwiches, in honor of my home city.”
“Good. Suddenly, I’m starving.”
The two comrades-in-arms sat, ate, and bullshitted, talking about missing friends and family. Then Lori raised a glass. “A toast. To Lieutenant Roth, your brother William, our missing families and friends. May they be safe, or at peace.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Torbin clinked his glass with Lori. They each took a large drink, then Torbin refilled the glasses with scotch.
“Trying to get me drunk, Torbin, and take advantage of me?”
“That would be unauthorized fraternization, Lori. We could really get in trouble.”
They both chuckled.
“Do you have anyone…special, Torbin?”
“No. Funny thing, William was the one who was engaged to be married. Had a lady friend with Hollywood connections. In the L.A. area. My parents thought once I got off active duty, got my teaching degree, I would be the one to settle down. No such luck. Now look at me. Back in the war.”
“You’re good at it. We need men like you, Torbin. Especially in the long haul.”
“Lori, is there going to be a long haul?”
Lori paused, sipped her drink, and then answered. “Talk at the squadron is that some are moving forces and survivors into the interior. Live to fight another day.”
“Yeah. That Agent Leer told me that my unit taking out that cyborg, or whatever the hell it was, with the weapons we had and showed they weren’t as tough as everyone was saying. Panic does funny thing to people, makes them exaggerate the threat.” Torbin sipped his drink, continued.
“But the energy weapon that thing had can take out an M-1 Tank if close enough, according to Leer.”
“And you guys took out that ark. Tell me, Torbin, are the stories—”
“Yes.” He cut her off. “Sergeant Robbins called it Dante’s Inferno. It fit. Don’t ask for any more details right now. Please.”
The man and woman sat silent for a moment. Then Torbin looked at Lori.
“Anyone special?”
“Husband. With my parents in Philly. A big fucking rock hit there. Now, nothing.” Lori took a drink, set it down, began to cry.
“Ah, hell. I didn’t mean to…” He got up walked over and put his arm around her. Lori stood up, grabbed him in a bear hug.
“Torbin…I need some good-old fashioned human loving. I’m not a slut, but I need to know I can still feel. Right now, I feel numb. I don’t like that.”
Torbin began to gently stroke her hair that she had let down to her shoulders.
“Well, you do have nice hair.” He smiled at her.
She looked up at him, though she wasn’t that much shorter than he was. There was strength under the curves.
“You know why they don’t send donkeys to school, Marine?”
“They don’t like smartasses. The story of my life.”
“Now kiss me, damnit. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
Torbin pretended he was asleep when she got up, put her clothes back on and left. It was better that way. Torbin had seen this before. Near death, fear of death, and then people wanted loving. They needed to feel the hope that human contact causes, the hope created by another warm body next to theirs.
After he was sure she had left, he got up, visited the bathroom. Then he went in the main room and saw the note on the table.
“Torbin Bender,” it read. “You are one of the best men I have ever known. Here’s my full name, Social Security Number, DOB. Look me up later. Please. I’ll need to know you made it. Take care, you crazy Marine. Love, Lori.”
Torbin carefully folded the note, put it in his wallet. Then he got dressed, grabbed all his gear. No one had called him for another mission, but hell, there was a war on. He wanted those Tschaaa, those Squid aliens, to know something. Payback’s a bitch.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil,” Torbin muttered to himself. “Because I’m the meanest son of a bitch in the valley.”
He left the room unlocked, and the key on the table. He wouldn’t be coming back.
INTERRUPTED TOUR
The two tall, tanned, and athletic young ladies were jerked awake as the tour bus they were riding in braked to a sudden stop.
The blonde, Sharon Wagner looked across the aisle at her best friend and beach volleyball partner brunette Susanne Shaw.
“What is that all about?” Sharon asked. “Somebody forget how to drive?”
“I’ll go up and check,” Susanne responded.
The two eighteen year old women were on the last leg of a beach volleyball tour, sponsored by a major beer brewery. They had already set their mark playing on their high school team and then in summer leagues in the sunshine state of Florida. The beer sponsor had seen them play and offered them a job for the summer after high school graduation, and before they attended college on athletic scholarships. They were both that good. The fact that they were hot and sexy in their small bikinis was a plus when it came to selling beer to men.
Then an Olympic games sponsor had also contacted them, while on advertising tour for the beer brand.
“You two are excellent,” Mister Grant informed them on the telephone. “Call me after you are done with the tour. I know you two have college scholarships, but I think we can work around that and still get you ready for the next Summer Olympics. Beach volleyball is a big draw on television. Even if you don’t medal, you can still write your own ticket after you make the team and compete. And ladies, you will make the team.”
So here they were, on the last legs of a tour through Florida and Georgia. They had just departed Panama City en route to a weekend bash in Savannah, Georgia via Jacksonville, Florida. Then, home to prepare for college and the Olympics.
Susanne walked up to the front of the tricked-o
ut tour bus, past four other nubile young women who were also part of the tour. It would be a definite exaggeration to say that it had always been fun traveling with sometimes bitchy strangers. But Sharon and Susanne’s long term friendship, since childhood, made most things a lot easier. They even looked so much alike that most people thought they were siblings.
“Everything okay, Mister Jones?” Susanne asked the driver. Jones had done this tour many times for the beer company. After driving a beer delivery truck, this job was heaven.
“No, young lady,” the beefy black man replied. “There was an explosion up ahead. I’m trying to pick up something on the radio and the CB. So far, nothing.”
Dave Jones acted gruff, but when it came to the six young women in the bus he was a big teddy bear. The fact he used to be a semi-pro boxer helped them deal with some of the more beer-fueled “fans” at the various beach venues.
Just then, Mrs. Julie Norwood, the bleary-eyed, dark-haired official chaperone walked up. Some of the out-of-sorts look was caused from being on the road since 7:00am. The rest of it was probably due to her sampling the sponsor’s wares with many of the older men who came to watch the beach volleyball tournaments late at night, and occasionally the younger studs as well. Julie was beginning to show the miles she had spent on the road, but was still cougar chic to many.
“What’s the holdup, Dave? We have a schedule to keep.”
“I know that. But look at that big plume of smoke. Something blew up.”
“Shit. Stay here, I’ll go up and look.”
It was 9:20am.
Susanne thought about telling Julie Norwood to stay in the bus, but knew that the woman hated to listen to the younger women. So, she held her tongue. Instead she stood and watched Julie walk up the line of stopped vehicles.
“That women has the patience of a starving rat,” Dave said.
Susanne laughed. “Yeah, she does seem to want everything to go right now, doesn’t she?”
Just then, the Goodtime radio broke into the music with a news alert.
“This just in,” the announcer began. “There has been a report of an explosion caused by a possible aerial collision on Interstate 10. Drivers are advised to find alternate routes and yield to emergency vehicles. This radio station will keep you advised of further developments…”
“That’s just great,” fumed Dave. “Now I get to listen to Julie bitch about the schedule for the rest of the trip.”
Before Susanne could answer, they heard a loud crackling and whooshing sound. Through the windshield they saw a small fireball come smashing in, striking the line of cars some two hundred yards up. The bus shook from the impact and explosion. Debris fell by the bus.
“What the fuck was that?” Sharon was standing next to Susanne and behind Dave. The other four women were now awake in the rear of the bus, one of them screaming in sudden fear.
“Sit down!” Dave called out. “And hold on!”
They had been traveling in the far right hand lane. With practiced ease, Dave swung the large vehicle to the shoulder. Then, to the surprise of all, he slammed it in reverse and began backing up at speed on the side of the Interstate.
“What are you doing?” Sharon demanded.
“Getting the hell out of dodge, youngster. Sit down.”
“But Mrs. Norwood…,” Susanne began.
“She’s flattened. You felt the explosion, saw the fireball. I need to save you. Now, sit down.” The bus accelerated.
Sharon grabbed her friend and pulled into a nearby seat.
“Seatbelt on, Sue.”
As Susanne belted herself in, she asked, “What’s happening?”
“Something bad, partner.”
Susanne looked at her best friend. “Glad you’re here.”
Sharon smiled at her. “Hell, we’re a team. The two of us together are unbeatable. Always were.”
Susanne kissed Sharon on the cheek. “I know.”
The tour bus jumped as Dave ran over something.
“Get the fuck out of the way!” he screamed out the driver’s window, his head halfway out, looking to the rear.
Sharon looked out the passenger side windows, and saw what he was heading for. While the women had dozed, they apparently just passed a freeway on-ramp. Now Dave was maneuvering at speed to go down the on-ramp. The bulk of the bus made other cars swerve out of the way.
Within minutes, the tour bus was at the bottom. Dave swung it around, took off down the road parallel to Interstate 10, back towards Panama City.
A bleached blonde named Adriana dashed up to the driver’s seat and began screaming at Dave.
“Turn around. We have to go back and get Mrs. Norwood!”
“She’s beyond getting. My responsibility is to get you all home…”
Adriana was not good at accepting people who refused to do what she told them to do. She began to grab and claw at Dave, causing the bus to swerve.
“Turn around!” she screamed.
Sharon grabbed onto Adriana. The hysterical female made the mistake of clawing at the tall, natural blonde’s face. She wound up on the bus floor, Sharon having her in a painful wrist and arm lock.
“Hey.” Marjorie, Adriana’s statuesque friend came up the aisle with fire in her eye. She went down holding her stomach after she received a well-placed kick from Susanne.
“Stay back,” Susanne commanded. “Dave is trying to get us to safety, he does not need us screwing with his driving.”
“Listen up.” Dave had managed to get on the tour buses public address system. “The CB is going nuts with reports of junk, maybe meteors, coming from the sky and smashing into stuff. Atlanta has been hit. Apparently Washington D.C., as well as this Interstate, have taken hits also. We are headed to a rest stop we passed a few miles back. If you don’t like that, I’ll stop and let you off. Understand?”
All the young women verbalized by grunts or other means that they understood. Sharon let Adriana up, who gave her the stink eye. Sharon smiled.
“Don’t like Jeet Kun Do, huh?”
Adrian turned on her heel and stomped to the rear of the bus.
“Thanks, Sharon and Susanne,” Dave said.
“Where’d you learn to drive that way, Dave?” Susanne asked.
Dave laughed. “After driving a deuce and half in Iraq, dodging IEDs, then a beer truck, this bus is a piece of cake. Now, help me find that rest stop.”
Ten minutes later, Dave drove the bus into the back of the Interstate rest area via a dirt access road they found. The rest area was already filling up when Dave stopped in the truck and RV parking area.
“All right. Bathroom break, then load up on any water and snacks you can find. I know you have some empty cans and bottles in the back. Fill them up. I don’t know when we’ll be able to load up again.” When the ladies seemed to hesitate, Dave yelled.
“Move, goddammit! Or find another ride.”
The women went to the restrooms, where there was already a line. Dave hustled around, found a water faucet, and began to fill up a couple half gallon plastic water containers. Susanne came back with a bunch of vending machine snacks.
“Used up my money and change, Dave. Sharon’s still out scrounging.”
Dave smiled. “You two are quite the team.”
“We try. We grew up together, are like sisters in some ways. We are a great beach volleyball team.”
“Well, this may get nasty. So remember, Susanne. If you have someone watching your back, and you watch theirs, you are one up on a lot of people.”
Sharon and the others began returning, the women subdued.
“All right ladies. Please stay here while I go around and talk with some of the other drivers. I need to find out what they know.”
The six volleyballers got back on the bus, staking out spaces in which to relax. Susanne, smiling, began throwing a volleyball back and forth with Sharon. The other four ladies were more subdued.
A half hour later, Dave returned, with a serious look on his fac
e. He stood in the aisle and addressed the women.
“The Interstate is closed.” He held up his hands when people began to protest, question.
“Look—that’s not my call. There are some massive traffic jams and vehicle fires up ahead. The State Police and all the emergency services have their hands full. There are some wrecks and fires behind us. So, we spend the night, hope we can move in the morning. Get your sleeping bags, clothes you are going to need for a comfortable night. Maybe somebody around here will share some hot dogs or something with us.”
“Mrs. Norwood put a case of beer in the luggage compartment,” somebody called out.
“That will be our emergency rations. I don’t need some tipsy underage girls staggering around. So, get some rest. We may have to leave at zero dark thirty.” When Dave saw quizzical looks, he added, “That means early in the morning.” He went back to the front of the bus and plunked down.
About half an hour later, some dozen adults approached the bus. Dave got off and met them, as the six young ladies watched. The gist of the conversation was that a couple of good ole boys with full truck rifle and shotgun racks said they would help keep watch that night, as everything seemed to be breaking down outside the rest area. Radio stations were beginning to go off the air, and the Emergency Broadcast System had started to broadcast warnings and instructions. In addition, Dave and the adults organized a cook out around a couple of permanent grills on the edge of the rest area. Everyone shook hands, and women from some of the vehicles and RV’s began to congregate around the picnic area.
Dave got on the bus again. “Alright. I would like a dollar donation from everyone to help defray the costs of the kind people supplying the hot dogs, hamburgers and other stuff. Also, if you would please dig out a volleyball net and string it up over there on those poles. We’ll get some games going for the kids. There are quite a few.”
The driver continued, “If you want to, you ladies can show off your skills. Give everyone a little entertainment. Okay?”
Soon close to a hundred men, women and children were organized in a good ole fashioned community picnic. Dave knew that humans had the ability to regroup after times of incredible stress. “Let them play, relax,” he said to himself. “That’s what we had to do in Iraq and Afghanistan, when we never knew when we were going to get hit. You have to be able to de-stress.” A few people stayed at their vehicles, apparently not wanting to socialize with a bunch of strangers. At least not yet. Dave saw a few who were crying and red-eyed, overheard some children asking if they were still going to Disney World.
Free Range Protocol- Tales of the Tschaaa Infestation Page 7