Free Range Protocol- Tales of the Tschaaa Infestation

by Marshall Miller

  “Because most belong to the young lady and her crew. Those two Eaters will soon bud, and make more eaters. Now, get to it or walk home.”

  Pops swore and cursed under his breath, but he did what he was told. Bobby walked over to Brian, telling him, “This could get Pops killed. I’ll go along…”

  “Then you can walk home. My father said that in the new world order, weak and worthless drunks like Pops have to pull their own weight or die. Think about what would have happened if all these Eaters had hit our camp.”

  Bobby didn’t reply. He was in no mood for an argument. Besides, he did not want to be killed because of Pops either. Empathy was one thing. He still had to think about his mother and sister.

  As Pops slowly entered the bush, Brian was able to raise some authorities on his cell phone, telling them that they had a wounded man and two dead. The military related they would send a helicopter out to get the injured and to survey the situation. Erin MacDuff then asked to be patched through to Colonel Bardun. Bobby recovered the Smithers brothers’ weapons and reloaded the AK-47. He wanted more firepower than his bolt-action Lebel. After Erin was off the telephone, she had an odd look on her face. She walked up to Bobby.

  “I did not realize you were that Bobby Parsons.”

  “Yeah. I’m the Squid lover,” Bobby growled.

  “Hey, the Colonel said you were a good person, that the Voice of the Free States Alesha said you were was a close friend of hers. She wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Well, Erin, tell that to the rest of people who won’t hire me because I spent time as a guard in Cattle Country. I did it so my family could survive.”

  “A lot of us did crap to survive, Bobby,” replied the Professor. “I was a student in Key West, and saw the Director close up. So I guess I’m guilty of supporting the Occupied Areas also.”

  Bobby didn’t reply. He just wanted to collect what bounty he could on the Eaters, and feel like he was contributed something for his family.

  “Tell you what,” Erin continued. “I’ll need to take some more field trips. I need people I can trust. Want to help me hunt and harvest Eaters?”

  Bobby contemplated the offer. Erin did seem tough, smart, and was pleasant to look at during a long day. He shrugged as he answered. “Sure, why not. Maybe Brian will come along. But not Pops. He’s a drunk.”

  At the mention of Pops, there was a rapid string of shotgun blasts up in the brush. Then silence. Bobby moved over to where Pops had entered the woods. A few minutes later, Jobber came tearing back into the camp, then hid under the SUV, shaking. Bobby raised the AK-47 to where the dog had exited the brush. He heard something stumbling through the vegetation. A bloody Eater stumbled out, and Bobby immediately shot it through the head. Brian walked over with a machete.

  “Want the hands?” Brian asked.

  “Of course—it’s money. But I think Pops has had his last drink.”

  About an hour later, JoJo was medevaced out by the military helicopter. The crew brought a sealed envelope for Erin MacDuff. Bobby watched as she read it. Then continued to watch as she began to laugh. A lot. He walked over to her as she wiped her eyes from laughing so hard.

  “That must be some joke,” said Bobby.

  “Yes, Bobby. A huge cosmic joke.” Erin held up the report she had just read.

  “Turns out Eater protein may be the ultimate diet food. It fills you up, passes through your system, but our body only absorbs about five percent of the calories. It’s like celery. You chew it, eat it, use up almost as many calories in the eating as it provides the human body, and then it passes through your body. But not like those other foods, like those horrible potato chips that gave everyone the ‘runs.’”

  “So, will you still need me for field trips?” Bobby asked.

  “Oh, hell yes! Some wisenheimer will try to figure out a way to breed them in captivity, and make them less dangerous rather than wipe them out. This report says Eaters taste like a cross between lobster and crab. And they breed like rabbits. So all the diet food in the world in some five to ten years when we are all fat, dumb and happy.”

  Bobby contemplated her statement, and then responded. “Yeah, Erin, they breed like rabbits, and are like celery in calorie count. But then again, people forget certain facts.”

  “What’s that?” asked Erin.

  “Celery and rabbits have never tried to kill and eat us. Maybe this is how we will get our revenge.”

  CHOICES

  GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  The young girl, not yet eighteen stood outside of the office building and shivered. She looked at the sign one more time: REPRODUCTIVE SERVICES INC.

  How she had had the nerve to get this far, she still did not know. All she did know is she could not handle the expanding abdomen and what it signified. She blinked back tears as she stood on an indecisive spot on the sidewalk.

  “Can I help you?” The voice from behind her made he jump.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The slender brunette turned around to see thirty-something dishwater blonde woman smiling at her. The young woman tried to speak, but nothing seemed to want to come out. The older woman looked at the brunette’s protruding stomach and knew the reason for her visit.

  “Come on into the office, dear. I have some hot tea, and we can discuss options…”

  Just then another figure approached. A somewhat muscular dark-skinned woman marched up to the two women and stood blocking the path into the clinic. The dishwater blonde frowned as she spoke to the intruder.

  “Look, Sergeant Power. I told you this is none of your concern. You need to go back to your Unit, the Banshees…”

  “So you can convince another woman to do what the Squids did? Kill babies?”

  “This is different. No one is forcing her to give up what is in her body. It’s her choice.”

  “The results are the same,” Sergeant Power answered. “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Mary…”

  “You don’t have to talk to the Sergeant. Mary,” the other woman said. “Now, please get out of our way, Sergeant, unless you want a report to your Commanding Officer this time.”

  “Why, June? So you can kill another baby?” The Sergeant spat back.

  “Come on, Mary. We’ll go inside,” June said. She tried to push past Sergeant Power.

  A second later, the woman called June was on her back, looked up with blood streaming from her nose. Mary screamed and stepped back, holding her abdomen protectively. A man and a woman in white lab coats came running from the building, the man yelling into a cell phone.

  “We need the police. Now! One of our staff has been attacked.”

  Sergeant Power stood with balled fists, ready to fight more.

  “Don’t nobody touches me,” she growled. “Ever again!”

  A siren echoed a few blocks away. The sound grew closer to the clinic as Mary sobbed.

  General John Reed, Allied Forces Commander, sat behind his desk in the headquarters building of Malmstrom Armed Forces Base. He looked at the four individuals arrayed around his office. Despite the size of the room, the four persons and the subject which had brought them together this day seemed to make the office feel small and oppressive. General Reed glanced at the police report one last time, then tossed it on his desk.

  “We need crap like this about as much as we need more reports of Eaters.” He glanced at the only other male in the room as he continued. “Commissioner Miller, what does Law Enforcement say?”

  Paul Miller, the Commissioner of Federal Law Enforcement, shifted his beefy but sturdy frame in the padded chair. The older man was a fast friend of the General, but he had a job to do. Thus, he never minced words.

  “I can’t keep making excuses to the locals about PTSD—cut the troops a sprout because of the Squids, making the Great Compromise work, etcetera, etcetera. Somebody needs to pay the piper. Soon.”

  General Reed a had noticed a few more gray hairs in
the mirror that morning even before the police report was plopped on his desk. He knew he would have more before this was all over. He shot a hard look at the young black haired Colonel, and the mother of his Godchildren, Aleksandra Bender.

  “Well, Colonel. You’re the miscreant's Commander. What do you suggest we do with this Banshee of yours.”

  Aleks sat up straight in her chair as she answered.

  “Sir, in my former position in the Russian Army, Sergeant Power could be flogged. But I understand that is not part of the Code of Military Justice in the new United States of North America.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” the General asked.

  “If I may interject, Sir.” The new voice was from blonde Abigail Yamamoto, the legendary Avenging Angel, and the Banshee’s Banshee. As she was also an adopted daughter of the General, her opinion carried additional weight.

  “Go ahead. Major. You have an idea?” asked General Reed.

  “In ancient times, specialized units of warriors handled their own ‘off the record’ punishment for those who brought dishonor to their comrades. I think Colonel Bender and I could come up with a unique sentence to help with these anger control issues of Sergeant Power.”

  General Reed shook his head. “Sorry. It is the same problem as before. We can’t make a habit of treating Banshees different than anyone else.”

  The General then looked at the third woman in the room.

  “Well, Agent Jorgensen, I know as head of the Security for Madam President that you were sent here with a message from her. Correct?”

  The tallest human in the room, a true Shield Maiden in the classical sense, smiled slightly.

  “Yes, General,” Brynhildr Jorgensen replied. “She wishes me to remind all that she was serious about preserving the rights people here in the U.S. had before the Tschaaa appeared. Thus, Roe v. Wade still applies. No matter anyone’s personal opinion.”

  General Reed surveyed all the participants in the room one more time before he spoke.

  “Okay. I don’t want to regret the day I allowed an all-female unit to be created. Thus, the Officers in Charge of the 101st Special Attack Unit, the Banshees, will ensure said Sergeant Power will be remanded to the civilian authorities for judicial action. After that, the Armed Forces will have its pound of flesh. Any questions? Good. Let me know when this is accomplished.”

  The back of the clinic building was a mass of flames. However, the Fire Department was standing back some distance from the burning structure. In their response path were two figures, one with a nasty blade held to the throat of the other.

  “Stay back, or I slit her throat!” Sergeant Power yelled. She emphasized her warning by tightening her grip on the clinic worker named June.

  “Keep choking her like that, and you won’t need that knife to off her,” an EMT responded.

  The local Police Sergeant was about to call on the radio for the SWAT to hurry up when a black SUV with wig-wag lights in the grill came to a screeching halt nearby. Three women, two in military combat fatigues, jumped out. The tallest one showed Federal Law Enforcement badge and ID to the Sergeant.

  “Special Agent Jorgensen with the two Commanders from that woman’s unit. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Good luck with that,” answered the local police official. “That one over there seems bent on being shot by SWAT.”

  Abigail and Aleks moved towards Sergeant Power.

  “Banshee! Put down that blade. You are dishonoring it and your Sisters,” Abigail called out in her best Avenging Angel command voice. Aleks was the Senior Commander, but she knew Abigail had a special connection with all the troops. It was because of her that the Sisters of Steel and the Banshees were created.

  “Stay back, Major,” ordered Power. “This is more important than the Sisters.”

  “More important than the oath you took, Sergeant?” Aleks interjected.

  “My oath to life is, Colonel,” came the response. “Now stay back.”

  “Sergeant, we all have suffered…” Abigail began, but the dark-skinned Banshee cut her off.

  “Did you have a baby ripped from your womb, Major? Huh? Did you see it taken to feed some Squid?Did you?” Sergeant Power’s rant ended in a screeching yell. The SWAT vehicle arrived at that moment. The tactical geared personnel began to deploy as Aleks cursed and stepped forward.

  “Look. I carried two children who could have come out as monsters thanks to Squid chicanery with my womb,” stated Aleks. “I chose to take that chance. Some women are unable to handle that. It is their right to chose…”

  “No!” Sergeant Power screamed. “How is killing the baby in your womb because of fear, any different than killing it for veal?” Tears began to run down the Banshee’s face. “It is human life. The Squids took too many of our babies in Cattle Country, in Atlanta. You weren’t there!”

  “No, we were not,” answered Aleks. “We were putting out asses on the line to try and stop it. Which we finally did.”

  “Too late,” snarled Power. “You were too late. I made a promise to all those who did not make it that I would never let another baby be killed in the womb, cut out like mine was before I could escape.”

  The Sergeant shivered. “It was a little girl. The bastards did not even care. They said there were enough human Breeders.”

  Abigail stepped closer to Power and her hostage. She thought that her enhanced physical abilities from some similar Tschaaa tampering similar to that done with women’s wombs might enable her to disarm the Banshee.

  “Please. I do not want this to end badly. I’ve seen enough killing,” explained Abigail as she moved extremely slowly towards the Sergeant. “You took an oath to Madam President. You are one of the President’s Own. Do not sully that fact.”

  Sergeant Power locked eyes with her.

  “I have no President if she condones the murder of innocents,” Power said. Then she slit June’s throat. Abigail screamed and was a blur as she dashed towards the Banshee. A SWAT bullet beat her, splashing Power’s brains and blood over Abigail, June, and the street pavement.

  Somehow they saved June. Her vocal chords would need some Tschaaa nannite reconstruction, but she was alive. Whether her psyche could be repaired was another matter. A somber service was held for the fallen Banshee. Despite what had happened, it was the War and the Infestation that had killed her, not the SWAT bullet.

  Madam President attended, despite some political grumblings by some of the politicos. President Sandra Paul had responded in her typically blunt manner.

  “She was one of my many daughters, who sacrificed all. She did not ask for this life, the Infestation. She served until she broke. Like many of us have.”

  As the service ended in the new private Banshee Cemetary overlooking Malmstrom Armed Forces Base, Aleks walked up to the President.

  “Madam President. I must offer my apologies for my failings as a commander. If you wish to replace…”

  “Please, Aleks. Don’t. It is not your fault. People break. I almost did. I was lucky.”

  The two women stood for quietly for a moment. Abigail walked up.

  “She is with God now,” stated the Avenging Angel.

  “How can you be so sure, Abigail?” Madam President asked. “She tried to kill someone.”

  “She thought she was saving a life. God is merciful, Ma’am. Trust me. I have known God’s mercy.”

  Sandra Paul grasped a hand of each of the Banshees.

  “Remember this. I am always there for you, whatever that means. We are Sisters, who take care of our own, no matter the mistakes, the problems.”

  The President paused for a moment, then continued. “But we have a higher calling to ensuring the United States of North America and the Great Compromise succeed. That success is what matters.”

  Sandra Paul looked at her watch.

  “Time to go. Hugs, please.” The President was not one for military decorum. As she left, Aleks and Abigail stood together and watched her.

  “Sh
e is the greatest woman I have known,” proclaimed Aleks.

  “Yes, she is,”answered Abigail. “There is one sad thing.”

  “What is that, my little sister?”

  “Thanks to the Tschaaa, Sergeant Power and her daughter will never have the chance to be that great.”

  The two Sisters of Steel walked away as clouds overhead obscured the sun.

  MEMORIES

  GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  “Hey, Dad! What’s this?” twin voices asked in loud unison from further up the sidewalk. A casually dressed Torbin Bender kept walking at a relaxed gait as he looked at his twin sons, Gage and Tristan. They pointed through a display window of a book and periodical store in downtown Great Falls, Montana. The two boys, although only a bit over two years old, acted at least twice their age. Torbin silently cursed the genetic tampering their former enemies—the cephalopod aliens called the Tschaaa—had done to the human species. Raising kids was hard enough without having to deal with accelerated development, both mental and physical.

  Yet he loved them to death. Strange though they might be in some ways, they were still his and his beloved wife’s children.

  “Wait up, guys!” General Torbin Bender called out to his sons. “Remember what I said about running ahead?”

  “Yes, dad,” they answered in perfect unison. Torbin had heard that identical twins often did that, even without any genetic tampering by the Tschaaa. But it still made him feel a bit… uncomfortable.

  As the two black-haired (from their Russian-Ukrainian mother, Aleksandra Smirnov) children turned and looked at their father with their piercing blue eyes (from the Bender side of the family), he smiled to himself. Just before the Tschaaa Invasion and Infestation began, now over eight years past, Torbin had no idea he would ever have a real family with kids. Then again, he had also thought that his military active duty days were past. The first huge rock launched from Earth orbit by the Tschaaa changed all that.

  His sons both pointed at the window of the local bookstore with intense interest.