Winter was fast approaching so the days were much shorter. As Torbin was sipping the espresso Aleks had made for him that morning, he told her he would a little late getting home.
“I need to help Pappy Gunn and some Special Response Team guys try out some new night vision sights and equipment. So, I’ll be home a little late tonight.”
Aleks looked at him. He felt that she was looking into him, knew what he was planning.
“You just get home in one piece, my husband. Just remember that you have a loving wife with two, how you say, ‘buns in the oven’ waiting for you. Understand?”
He kissed her. “Aleks, did I tell you already today how much I love you?”
She smiled. “Yes. But you can tell me again, even though I can feel it.”
“I love you, Aleks. You are what makes my life worth living. Always remember that.”
Aleks looked into his eyes. “Always know I will be here for you, Torbin. Always.”
They kissed once more, and Torbin went to work, training troops again with Abigail.
He had told Abigail in basic terms what was going on after getting back from the meeting with General Reed. The General had even threatened to kick the young Lieutenant’s ass if he ever mentioned “resigning” again. This was first time Torbin had seen him threatening personal violence in a serious way to someone.
“So, Commissioner Miller will probably bring the Ferals to justice?” Abigail had asked
“Yep. It’s off Base, so under the reconstituted civilian government jurisdiction. They will handle getting the people who tried to kill Aleks and Fuzz.”
Again, he felt female eyes as they pierced his soul. He knew Abigail was examining him, trying to see what he may have planned.
“Torbin, my dear friend,” Abigail began. “Just remember that if you need help in… doing something, I am always here.”
Torbin glanced around, made sure nobody was watching as they were in uniform. Then he kissed her on the forehead. “Little sister, I know you are always there for me. What you can do is to keep an eye on Aleks, you and your big beastie, when I’m not around. Deal?”
Abigail broke into a broad grin. “Deal, of course. That is easy. Just make sure you always get home in one piece when I’m not around to watch your back.”
“Will do, Abigail, Will do. Now, let’s see what we can do to make today a memorable training experiences for our NCO Trainees.”
It was dark as Torbin snuck up on the formal stable complex. He had a white sheet he had converted into a poncho as there was snow on the ground around the complex. If he saw some security, hopefully he could just drop to the ground and act like a small snow drift. He had forgotten how many times he had to sneak up past sentries at all hours of the day and night. Now, it was second nature.
So far, he had seen one guard at a large chain link entrance gate, who was kept busy with some comings and goings of various vehicles. Were they holding a fight tonight? He would soon find out. He had committed himself, there was no turning back. He made it to the chain link fence that the current owners and users had thrown up more as a warning than actual security. Large signs with pictures of slavering dogs were hung all along the fence line, proclaiming “Beware of Dogs. They Bite.” “Expect to Be Eaten.” was another warning sign. Torbin wondered if that was how they dealt with nosey neighbors—turned them into dog food.
The chain link fence was not even buried in the ground, so it was relatively easy for him to cut a chunk out of the bottom with his wire cutters, and then slither through. He had started to inch away from the fence, when he heard a “Pssst!” off to his left. He immediately slid to the ground, tried to look like a mound of snow covered dirt. He turned his head and looked to the left for source of the sound. Some thirty yards away, he saw some white cameoed figures just reaching the outside of the fence. They were in a spread out conga line, about a yard between each figure. Instead of his modified poncho camouflaged, the figures equipment looked like it was all official issue. Someone from the government was trying to get in just as he had done.
Torbin began the lowest and slowest crawl he could perform, moved away from the fence, in case they came down and found his hole. He observed a couple of the figures, wearing what seemed to be night vision goggles. Torbin liked to use his own natural night vision, which had always worked well for him once his eyes adjusted to the dark. The compound/stable had few lights showing. In fact, it looked as if the operators of this apparent facility had purposefully blacked out all the windows, to keep lights to a minimum. He bet they were trying to make it appear from the outside that few lights were on. Thus, it would appear to observers that there was little activity. Torbin would not be surprised if there was some heavy duty sound proofing modifications in the interior. All he could hear was some very muffled noise.
He moved slowly, keeping his eyes on the figures to his left. Two were now up to the fence, doing what he had done—cutting a hole as quietly as possible, then bending the cut material up to allow a person to low crawl through. Torbin had made it about twenty five yards from the fence when one of the two fence cutters motioned for the next figure back to come up and crawl through the fence. They seemed fairly efficient at this, so they must have trained and practiced in just this type of activity. Torbin stopped his crawl, lay still, and watched.
With practiced ease, all twelve figures were through and low crawling in toward the nearest building, a large stable. One small light shone out toward the rear of the structure, at right angles from Torbin and the strangers. Small slivers of light peeked through the edge of what appeared to be two windows. That was it. Everything else was blacked out. Torbin wondered what the heat signature of the stable was like.
Then, off to his right, he thought he heard a small door slide shut. The strangers did not seem to notice it, too concentrated on getting lined up as they crawled toward their target. Torbin looked toward origin of the sound. There was enough ambient light from a fairly clear sky and half-moon that he made out a figure moving toward the group. At first he thought it was a guard dog, but it seemed to be transitioning from two feet to four, then back to two. It motivated toward the dozen unknowns in this odd shambling, changing gait. But it was making good time. And the twelve did not see it.
“Shit,” Torbin whispered to himself. In one smooth motion, he rose up just enough to throw one of the two good sized stones he had brought with him. Want to sneak up behind a sentry? Throw a rock and make noise in the opposite direction, get the subject to look away from you. Then, move up on them in their blind spot.
The improvised projectile struck the snow covered dirt just in front and to the left of the strange creature. It skittered to the left a bit at the rock’s impact, and rose up. A chill went into Torbin as he realized that the odd figure looked like a large baboon.
Somebody from the group of twelve finally noticed the approaching figure. Four sounds of a silenced subsonic weapon and the figure sprawled out, then lay still. Whoever was in charge, saw this threat and made a tactical decision. A muffled order and all twelve figures rose into crouched “Groucho Marx” close quarter battle stances and moved in near perfect alignment toward the stable structure. Speed was now decided to be what was important. Torbin next noticed a thirteenth figure was on the ass of the armed individual farthest away, appearing to grip the belt of the person in front.
As he noticed that, he heard the muffled sound of the door as it swung shut once, then twice. Two more strange figures like the first were now moving at flank speed from where the last one had come, toward the assault line. Torbin sprang up and threw his last rock at the two threats, then drew his pistol. He must have hit one of them as there was a barking chattering, and one figure jumped up into the air, twisting about. Then all hell broke loose. Additional threats must have come from the other flank as someone began firing a silenced sub gun in three-shot bursts, toward where the light shown at the far end of the long structure. Larger, crouched figures emanated from an apparent exit po
int near the light. Large growls and odd barks began to fill the air, then loud howling. Within seconds, everybody was firing. Torbin thought he had heard the crackle of a portable radio just before this happened. The assault was on.
The two figures coming from Torbin’ right had seen him now. They started to make a beeline when the firing from the assault line caused them to be taken aback. Too many targets, threats, and they were confused. They stood up and began giving alarm barks like baboons on the Serengeti do when seeing a threat. Torbin saw his chance, and dashed toward the assault group, hoped they did not shoot first, then ask questions. The “enemy of my enemy is my friend”. Or so Torbin hoped.
He tried to keep an eye on the two baboon creatures to his right as he began to sprint toward the firing figures. Seeing one of the Assault Team member had his or her back toward them, they decided that was the prey to attack, were now distracted from Torbin. They began to run at full tilt on all fours.
Torbin’s big .44 bucked in his hand as he shot at the running figures.
“Friendly—don’t shoot! Friendly—don’t shoot!” He yelled as loudly as he could, running toward the assault line. Someone noticed the baboon creatures now, and also began to shoot at them. Torbin was sure he had hit one, the other one went down in a hail of bullets.
“Who the fuck are you?” A voice yelled out.
“Major Torbin Bender, at your service.”
He then heard a familiar voice. “Major, do you always head toward the shitty situations? Or do you just attract them?” It was Commissioner Miller.
“A little of both, Sir.”
“Doctor Anders. Grab onto the good Major here.” He turned toward Torbin. “Stay in back. We have a plan we know, you don’t. Stay out of the way.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Torbin snapped back. The Commissioner grunted. “Goddamned gung ho Marines.”
Emily Anders appeared and grabbed the back of his tactical vest, up under his makeshift poncho. She had a long, dark object in her hand, the length of an old fashioned knight stick.
“What’s that?”
“Cattle prod. Don’t touch the prongs unless you want a shock treatment,” the veterinarian answered.
“Roger that.” Torbin did not take the time to ask why she was here. Things were way too busy.
Another large, almost canine-looking beast burst out of the stable, under the lone light. It moved like a dog, but was the size of a black bear. Commissioner Miller fired a good dozen rounds from his 10mm ex-FBI MP5, as one of his men hit it with a shotgun slug. It finally went down a yard from reaching them.
“My God, what have they been doing here?” Emily blurted out.
“Come on,” the Commissioner ordered. “We need to get through that door before someone locks it on us.” They were some fifty yards from it as the Commissioner made a run for the opening. Torbin opened his revolver, ejected the empties, slapped a speed loader into his revolver and followed, Emily Anders still holding on. The Commissioner was so impatient he was moving before his troops even knew what had happened. Torbin, seeing no one on his six, quickly moved there. Miller kicked the partially open door, then slid through, button hooking to the left. Torbin hooked to the right, Emily still managed to hang on. For the first time, warning calls of “Police with a search warrant!” were given.
The interior was lit with some red “exit here” theater lights, nothing more. The Commissioner swung a bit wide toward the first horse stall on his left, Torbin went to the one on the right. They were in a good seven yards before anyone else followed. So far, no humans.
A beast burst from the stable on the left, screeching like the ape it used to be. The huge mutated chimp went for Miller as he raised his sub gun and fired. Three rounds and his gun stopped. The Commissioner stared into the face of death. He watched as its head exploded into a mass of red mist and brains. Torbin had double tapped it, an AP and a mercury loaded hollow point into the side of its skull. The .44 Magnum was deadly, especially in Torbin’s hands. The former ape collapsed onto Miller’s feet, almost knocking him over. He stumbled back, then regained his balance. He shot a look at Torbin.
“I thought you were in the rear,” Miller said.
“I was. Then the rear became the front. Are you okay?”
As the rest of the team started to enter, Miller nodded his head. “Remind me never to badmouth the Marines again. Alright, let’s get moving. Check each stall. Shoot first, ask later. We have another team coming in from the other side, then another through the main gate, with six uniformed sheriff’s officers.” As he spoke, Torbin thought he heard some muffled shots from somewhere on the compound.
“Major, if I yelled for help, would the military show up?”
“They always have a couple of Special Response Teams on standby, with a chopper as well. Just say the word.”
Miller paused. “This will not be Waco. I did not expect all of these…things to show up. A few Eaters, fighting dogs, but not this. We will keep going for a few, and see if things improve. But, well, this is not the charge of the light brigade. Alright, let’s get moving.”
They moved forward, checking stalls as they moved. They reached the end of that part of the complex without any more creatures showing up. They exited the first stable area, and passed into the next.
“There is a cellar of some sorts under this building, so look for stairs, trap doors, whatever. Stay frosty.”
Ten seconds in, hell came back. A trap door flew open in the floor of a stable to their left and an Eater burst out. It bowled over one of the federal officers, latching onto his leg. A shot to its primitive brain pan stopped it, but not before it had crippled the officer. Emily jumped into action, quickly had his wound bandaged as they tried to secure the rest of the building, before entering the cellar. Another baboon creature showed up, barking and screeching before it was shot. Then another. And another.
“Someone is letting them loose piecemeal,” Torbin stated as they shot down the last one.
“Yes, but from where?”
“Where was the main office, Commissioner? Every working stable had some type of business office.”
The Commissioner smiled. “Remind me to offer you a job, Major.” He got on his radio to the team coming in from the other side. Short conversation as they checked the rest of horse stalls. The found a trap door in another stall, covered it with weapons.
“Alright, the other team has the business office in sight. And there seems to be some armed humans in it. The main entrance team is in a firefight right now, with at least a half of dozen miscreants. We will continue and hit that group from behind. After, of course, we clear that cellar area here. The numbers of creatures running loose seems to have died down, for now.”
With quick precision, Miller had a six man clearing team designated for the cellar.
“I’m going as well,” Emily Anders cut in.
“Doctor,” the Commissioner started to say.
“No, I am going. If what is going on that I think is going on, it’s in the cellar.”
“Look it, Doctor, this is not the old sci-fi movie Them and you are not the daughter of the myrmecologist who needs to see if the queen ants were all killed...”
“I. Am. Going.” Emily had a stone cold look in her eye that made Torbin think of Abigail, just before she tore someone a new asshole.
“I’ll be her bodyguard, Commissioner. Just let me borrow a 12 gauge.”
Miller snorted. “Alright. It’s your funeral. Agent Johnson. A loaded shotgun for the good Major, if you please.”
Moments later, with the aid of some extremely bright flashlights, they were headed down the stairs, with Torbin and Emily bringing up the rear.
As soon as they hit the cellar floor, hell happened. Again.
Another “once an ape” came screaming at them, followed by baboon creatures. A mad minute, similar to Evanston, but on a smaller scale, began.
The Feds shot their shotguns, sub-guns, assault rifles. One man went down with a baboon at his t
hroat. Torbin jammed his shotgun in its mouth and blew its brains all over the cellar ceiling.
Then a new breed of creature showed up.
“Weasels!” Emily yelled as long furry things, bigger than the largest house cat, exploded from den holes in the floor. The vet jammed her cattle prod into the face of one and cooked its brains. Then she jammed it into the side of one that was trying to bite Torbin in the groin. Torbin jumped from some of the electrical bleed off, but the weasel creature jerked off of his leg and lay twitching on the cellar floor. He proceeded to stomp its head in.
The attack stopped. Torbin turned to Emily, who was shaking and breathing hard. “My wife thanks you for saving my genitalia, Doctor.”
Somehow, the vet produced a smile. “Did I ever tell you, Major, just how many women had a crush on you?”
“No, but please save that until we get out of here.”
At that moment they heard the voice of a young girl. “Help us. Please!”
“Oh fuck, no,” the lone female Federal Officer said as she dashed toward a locked room door. She looked through the barred window, screamed, and began to vomit. There was a chattering from an ape creature behind the door as it jammed its muzzle and teeth between the bars, snapping and biting. Torbin stepped forward, jammed his .44 in its mouth, pulled the trigger. The top of its skull disappeared. Torbin then laid his shoulder into the door, unbridled rage giving him the strength to break in the door.
Inside were three young females, the oldest no more than seventeen. One younger, about fourteen, was strapped to a table, naked, with bite marks on her body, claw marks on her sides and thighs. She was sobbing. The other two were secured to the cell wall.
Out came Torbin’s Ka-Bar, and he cut the straps on all the captives. He then picked up the young lady from the table and she wrapped her arms around him, sobbed, shaking. Part of his brain said she reminded him of a young Abigail.
The Tsunami Page 34