“One way or another, I will handle this pistol.”
The Chief displayed a wry smile. “You ladies have spunk.”
“We wouldn’t be here, honey, if we were wusses.”
The Chief chuckling. “I’ll give you that much. Now, see if you can find something to prop on that cannon and help me cover the gangway.”
“The porthole out of our former cabin should do. Yell if you want something, Chief.”
Chief Hamilton laughed. “Like I said. Spunk. I like that.”
A couple of minutes later the now half-assed organized Krakens began to fan out around the dock area, trying to approach the yacht using whatever cover they could find, which was not much. The Krakens were not used to armed resistance. They were used to bullying and having their way with scared people. Two tried to make a dash up the gangway, and the Chief let them have it with both barrels of his sawed off shotgun. The spread hit them from head to toe and they went down, one falling into the water, not to surface.
“Come and get it, you sons of bitches!” The Chief yelled out as he reloaded the scattergun, then laid it down and took the large 44 Caliber Desert Eagle automatic from his bag. The magnum loads from the long barreled pistol had better accuracy and range than the buckshot and dime loads for the 12 gauge.
The Krakens returned fire with an eclectic batch of guns, some shots hitting the yacht, some not. As the Chief ducked down, Adam Lloyd began firing from the upper deck with his 9mm, taking down an advancing Kraken, but making himself a target. He ducked behind the leeboards for cover as rounds whizzed by.
The Chief let loose with the Desert Eagle, the loud reports resounding around the Marina area. A Kraken was nearly decapitated, as one of the magnum loads took him in his head, killing him instantly.
During this exchange of fire, two Krakens made it behind a cement wall that was part of a box structure, used to contain large trash bins. They peaked over the rim, then tried to light a Molotov cocktail they had constructed using a whiskey bottle.
There was a huge booming sound, even when compared to the Chief’s Forty Four Magnum. One complete cinder block of the trash bin structure seemed to disintegrate, the two Krakens yelping as they dropped their gas bomb, which broke and splashed them with the contents. They were also unfortunate when they dropped the lit Zippo lighter, with which they had planned to ignite the Molotov cocktail. Instead, the Zippo ignited them. They panicked, began to run around and beat at their legs that were now on fire.
“Burn in hell, you sorry fuckers!” Sharon screamed out the porthole, resulting in an answering bullet crashing into the bulkhead—inches from her head. Adam Lloyd answered the attempt at shooting Sharon by shooting one of the burning Krakens in the leg. The man fell over, screaming. His companion finally remembered they were near water and jumped in near the stern of the yacht.
The Chief’s Desert Eagle began to boom again, and another Kraken took his last breath. With this, the surviving Krakens began to call back and forth, trying to figure out a way to assault the yacht.
“You still in one piece, ladies?” the Chief yelled out.
“Hell, yeah!” Susanne yelled back.
The Chief chortled. “Spunk. Pure spunk.”
Three Krakens rushed to the gangway, expending much of their limited ammunition supply. As they tried to dash up the ramp, Sharon’s Hand Cannon roared again, the bullet completely penetrating one Kraken and hitting the rope handrail, severing it. The dead Kraken plopped into the water below, one of his fellows slipping and almost falling into water with his deceased companion. The third one of the group screamed in rage and headed up the gangway, to be met with a blast of buckshot. He died, his blood soon covering the gangway with a dark red pool. The last surviving Kraken in the assault group decided discretion was the better part of valor and rolled off the ramp into the water below.
“We’ve got two in the water, people,” The Chief called out.
“I’ve got them,” growled Susanne. She slid out of the cabin and went up an interior stairwell to the upper deck. Adam looked up as she slid by him and, staying as low as possible, peered over the port side, opposite the dock. She saw the burnt Kraken trying to climb up a small water level ladder, and the Kraken who had exited the gangway surfacing near him.
To say that the last year had built up a feral quality in Susanne that she had not realized was possible would have been an understatement. And now, it was all boiling over. She had wrapped the remaining length of the restraining dog chain around her waist to keep it out of her way. Now, she unwrapped it, letting an end hang loose. Holding it in her mouth to free her hands, she used a gymnast dismount to drop to the deck below, just as the burnt and in pain Kraken climbed on board.
While she and Sharon had learned Jeet Kun Do, they had also studied the use of various Chinese and Japanese martial art weapons. One was the chain whip. Although the dog chain was not as substantial as the chain whip, it was better than nothing.
Susanne did a quick side spin, then whipped it around the throat of the Kraken. As he clawed to free it from around his neck, Susanne stepped in, had a hold of two sections and twisted the chain tight. The athlete stuck her hip into opponent, used her legs and lifted him by the chain garrote she had fashioned onto her side and back, as if to perform a hip throw. She stopped half way through, strangling him as he was partially suspended.
“You killed my friends and family, you shit,’ Susanne growled. “Now die.” She crushed his adam’s apple as she twisted the chain, then dropped him onto the deck. The Kraken spasmed as he died.
She had misjudged the location of the other Kraken, who was suddenly on board and coming at her. Susanne had no time to free the chain from her first victim’s throat and tried to step away. The chain still attached the collar at her throat, she had no time to remove it, jerking her up short. The Kraken saw her plight and lunged with a double bladed knife.
Speed borne of panic enabled her to block the thrust with her arms, but she sustained a nasty cut on her left forearm. She yelped as she tried to use a wrist lock on the knife hand and was shoved into the bulkhead, as the large Kraken tried to free his weapon hand. She sank her teeth into the wrist of the hand holding the knife and began to worry it like a Terrier with a rat. The Kraken screamed as he dropped his weapon, then slammed Susanne into the bulkhead. She kept biting as she tried to hang on, the Kraken punched at her with his free left hand, and she soon saw stars. Her bite was shaken loose, and her feet slipped out from under her, her butt winding up on the deck. The Kraken raised his free fist to punch her straight in the face, as she tried to see it through the stars in her vision.
From what seemed like nowhere, a boot struck the Kraken in the back of the head, knocking him into the bulkhead above Susanne. Adam Lloyd had come to Susanne’s aid, swinging down from the railing above. He clambered over the railing onto the lower deck as the Kraken tried to stand up, pushing off from the bulkhead. This despicable excuse of human species was an experienced rough and tumble fighter, who did not want to go down. He grappled with Adam, tried to force him back over the deck railing.
Some automatic function caused Susanne to notice and grab the dropped knife. In one motion she slammed it point first into the inner left thigh of the Kraken. Blood began to spurt from the wound, a sure sign she had slit the femoral artery. He screamed and tried to grab the knife sticking in his leg as he bled out. Adam slammed the web of his right hand into the Kraken’s throat, striking the adam’s apple and shoving the Kraken backwards. Susanne suddenly had two bodies falling on top of her, as they were tripped by her body. She screamed out in rage and pain, managed to pull the blade from the enemy’s thigh. On automatic, she began to stab the Kraken over and over again. She did not notice the body go limp, or that she was covered in blood.
“Susanne. Stop. He’s dead!” Adam yelled and finally got her attention. She slumped to the blood covered deck, turned her head sideways and began to vomit up what little still remained in her stomach. Adam bent over and
brushed her long brown hair from her face and held it back out of the way.
“Hey, Boss. You still there?” Chief yelled loud, trying to figure what had happened.
“We’re coming Chief. Give us a moment.” Just then, Sharon’s hand cannon boomed again.
“Come on, young lady. You have to get up, no time to be sick.” He helped her to her feet, and she somehow formed a smile.
“I think I owe you my life,” Susanne said.
“Pass it on later to someone else. Come on, the others need us.”
Adam produced a multi-tool and used the pliers to free the dog chain from Susanne’s collar. The two allies managed to enter the yacht through a bow hatch and went up through the passageway. As they did, Adam produced a small flask and dumped alcohol on Susanne’s knife wound. She hissed in pain, and Adam explained
“Infection. I don’t know what that asshole had, and you’re covered with his blood.”
“Thanks again.”
“De nada.”
As they passed the cabin where Sharon was, she looked and cried when she saw all the blood.
“Susanne!” She started to move towards her partner.
“It’s okay Sharon—it’s not mine.”
Adam had Susanne sit in the cabin and went forward to Chief’s location. As he moved up to his side, shots rang out. But they were not from the Krakens. Rather, someone else was shooting at them.
“I think the Admiral just showed up.” Just after the Chief spoke, there were several bursts of automatic fire, followed by screams from the Kraken positions. One figure tried to run away and was cut down. Then, silence.
Chief let out a loud and shrill whistle.
“Hey, Admiral. Over here.”
Walking towards the gangway came a tall and gangly man, spouting a well-trimmed van dyke beard and mustache. His facial hair and well-groomed head hair were partially gray, but his tanned skin had a healthy and younger tone to it. However, it was his dress that was the most eye grabbing.
The one called the Admiral was decked out in what could have been called an example of Third World military dictator potentate uniform. There were more braidings, epaulets, cordage, and fourragere than on any three senior military officer’s uniforms. His naval officer’s style dress hat was festooned with braiding, bullion, and leaves on the brim and body. All in all, he looked like an Admiral of Starfleet in some space opera. To top off the image, he was carrying a gold plated 45 automatic pistol.
The Admiral strode up the gangway as if he owned the place, ignoring the blood and guts around him. He stepped down onto the deck and nodded to the Chief and Adam.
“Chief Williams, Director Lloyd. Sorry I am a bit late. I and my personnel were detained by some other scum a few miles back.”
“No problem, Admiral,” Adam replied. “You always have a way at arriving just at the right moment, with just the right flourish.”
This prompted a wide grin from the Admiral. “I do so enjoy our combined operations. I’m glad Lord Neptune arranged for you to set up the new idea of a Key West based country. I’ll handle my Conch Republic. I have no desire to be responsible for anything else.”
Sharon and Susanne walked out on deck at that moment, Susanne looking a bit pale having had the blood washed off of her. Behind them, shaking, was the dancer Wendy.
The Admiral saw them, his eyes widened a bit. He bowed, taking his military hat off and sweeping it with a flourish towards the ground, like a bit player in some Three Musketeer Hollywood Epic.
“Gentle ladies,” said the Admiral. “The Director and Chief did not tell me they had rescued three comely young women. I am the Admiral, leader of the Conch Republic, at your service.”
The Chief and Adam tried not to laugh. The Admiral had become a good friend and ally, despite all of his eccentricities. So they did not want to offend him by laughing at his sometimes over the top behavior.
Sharon stepped forward and put her right hand out to shake, still having her left hand on Susanne to steady her a bit. “Pleased to meet you Admiral…”
“Just Admiral. Everyone knows who I am, I need no other names.” He took Sharon’s hand and kissed it with a flourish. She could not help but smile.
“No one ever kissed my hand like that before. You have quite the way with the ladies—I can see.”
The Admiral gave the three women a once over and frowned. He looked at Adam.
“That is the best you can do, Director, for vestments, clothing? Blanket ponchos?”
“We were kind of busy trying not to get killed, Admiral—had to make do.”
“Well, the Admiral will fix that.” He turned towards the dock, put two fingers to his teeth and produced a very loud whistle. His personnel all looked at him, as the Admiral made a few gestures they seemed to understand at once, because two of them slung their weapons and began running back from whence they came.
“My people will be here momentarily with clothing suitable for young ladies, as well as food and drink. The area is now secure, the Kraken savages vanquished. We have one prisoner with a leg wound and burns whom we will question.”
“Thank you, Admiral, for coming when you did,” Susanne said shakily. “And the Director and the Chief here. I don’t know how you found us, but if you hadn’t…” She started to waver a bit on her feet, and Sharon grabbed a hold of her.
“Chairs! Chief, Adam, deck chairs for the young ladies. Come, be quick about it. They have had an ordeal, watching men die…”
“We killed some of them,” Susanne interjected. “We did not want to, but did what we had to.”
The Admiral looked at Sharon and Susanne with a piercing gaze.
“You are friends, companions, correct?”
“Yes, Admiral.” Sharon put her arm around Susanne. “We’re beach volleyball players. We were on our way to the Olympics. Then the…Squids showed up. Then these Kraken sacks of shit.”
There was pause in conversation, as the Chief and Adam took the deck chairs from the upper deck and placed them around the stern deck area. The three women sank down into the comfortable chairs, the horrible chain of events catching up with them. Then Sharon started to jump up from her chair.
“Maria! And her two kids. They were up by that crappy motel.” She looked at the Admiral.
He paused for a minute, then replied.
“We will look, young lady. I have not heard of any report of my people finding anyone else imprisoned.” He gave Adam a quick look—-then turned back to Sharon.
“You young ladies seem to have special skills and abilities, yes?”
Sharon sank back into her chair. “Right now, all I have is a headache”.
An SUV drove up near the gangway and honked its horn.
“Ladies, if you are up to it, there is food and drink in the vehicle, as well as clothing. May I escort you to peruse the contents, find something you would like?”
Sharon managed to rise out of the chair, then helped Susanne from hers. Wendy sat in hers, shaking.
“Wendy,” Susanne said as she looked at the dancer. Wendy began to cry.
“I want to go home. I want my family. I want my dog…” She began to sob.
The Admiral glided over to Wendy. He bent on his knee in front of the crying woman, took her hands in his.
“Milady, I know this is not where you wished to be. I know, like everyone here, you have lost friends, family, even pets. But, we are here. So, here we make the best of it. I would be flattered if you would join me and my people in the Florida Keys. We need all the survivors we can find. Which is why Chief Williams and Director Lloyd have been on a series of quests.” The Admiral paused, gently rubbing her hands and fingers with his. Then he produced a silk handkerchief and handed it to Wendy.
“Here, you are ruining your makeup, lovely lady.”
“It was already ruined.”
“Well then, all the more reason to come to the Conch Republic. We have hairdressers, cosmetologists who can aid you in repairing your makeup. Though, truth
be told, your natural beauty needs no enhancements.”
Wendy stopped crying and sniffed. “That was nice to say.”
“It is the truth, Wendy, which is your name, right? Now, please. Come with me and my people. I promise there are no hidden catches. I, the Admiral, so do swear.” He took her hand and gently helped her up. She latched on to him, using him as support as they walked down the gangway.
Within minutes, the three women had located decent clothes and underwear to cover their nudity, dressing behind a privacy screen the Admiral had erected. There even was a little makeup and some cosmetics. Adam and the Chief helped remove the remaining collars and chains from the three survivors. Then some food was produced, including thermoses of soup and coffee.
Susanne, steadier on her feet now that she was comfortably clothed and fed, walked up to the Admiral as he was talking with the Chief and Adam.
“Yes, Susanne. You have a re….”
The Admiral was tall—so tall even Susanne had to stretch a bit to kiss him on the cheek as she hugged him.
“You, sir, are a nice man. That talk you had with Wendy was one of the nicest conversations I have heard in a long time.”
She then turned to Adam and Chief Hamilton.
“Sharon and I owe you our lives. Though to be truthful, I am still worried that we have jumped from the frying pan into the fire.”
“Well,” replied Adam, “sounds as if it’s time to explain just what I and the Chief represent. Want to call Sharon and Wendy over?”
They moved some deck chairs from the yacht to around the SUV where the food and clothes were. For the next half hour, Adam Lloyd explained what he was trying to accomplish as the Director in the Florida Keys, and eventually in the Occupied Areas of the former United States. After he finished, they all sat there, drinking Irish coffee, as the three women considered their next move.
Wendy jumped in with both feet. “If the Admiral can find me a job, a place to stay, says I won’t get eaten, I’m in.”
“Yes, Wendy. I have influence in many business establishments. And there has been no harvesting since I began running the Conch Republic.
Free Range Protocol- Tales of the Tschaaa Infestation Page 16