Ravage

by MacCraw

  “By the way, I never caught your names”, she remarked.

  “My name’s Kirkley. The soldier boy with the stubble and scars is Captain Pack. The girl with the pain in her side is Samantha, our cook, and the quiet one with the white scarf and the sniper rifle is Poet. She’s not much of a talker, but she’s one of the most important members of our team, and she’s an exceptionally good sniper.”

  “Would you like me to help you unload your baggage?” Hannah asked.

  “Sure”, Kirkley replied. “These things weigh a tonne. We have some food and canned drinks and stuff, and if you want to share some of it, you’re more than welcome to help yourself. Like I said, though, we’re almost completely out of ammo.”

  “Well you’re in luck, Kirkley”, said Hannah. “Fort William is loaded with supplies. Come on, I’ve got some friends I’d love for you to meet.”

  Kirkley followed Hannah into the command center, which was a very-well fortified HQ. It had a sturdy door with a proper metal bar which Hannah used to seal the door when Kirkley and his team were inside. Three men with a veteran wolf fighter look to them were lounging around, chewing gum and twirling things around through their fingers.

  “Mister Kirkley”, Hannah announced, “These are my brothers in arms, and men I would gladly give my right arm for. The tall guy with the black hair, his name is Logan.”

  “How are you?” Logan smiled, firmly shaking Kirkley’s hand. Kirkley nodded.

  “Pleasure to meet you too, Logan”, Kirkley replied.

  “Over here is Riley”, Hannah sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Kirkley, “Do you two not get along or something?”

  “WOLF! SIX-O’-CLOCK!” Riley hollered. Everybody sprung up in a panic, their weapons ready, only to find out that Riley was full of bullshit. Again. The boy laughed hysterically, slapping his thigh as he cackled like a hyena.

  “Yes, Riley. The boy who cried wolf.”

  “I’ve always wanted to meet him”, Kirkley sarcastically remarked. “I’d heard the old bedtime story, but I’ve never met the boy. I thought he’d been eaten by the wolf.”

  “Piss off, then”, Riley scoffed.

  “And the big guy with the cool-looking club is Connor”, Hannah concluded. “Connor is my best friend, and he’s an interesting character, too. He doesn’t carry a gun, however; even though we have a small selection of weapons for him if he ever embraces the situation we’re in.”

  “Why don’t you carry a gun?” Kirkley asked. “Do you not know how to handle one, or are you afraid that you might hurt one of your lads? Captain Pack could give you some pointers.”

  “There’s that risk”, said Connor, “That risk of collateral damage, but my ancestors were opposed to guns. Guns are weapons that pretty much anybody can use, even the dog soldiers if they were smart enough. But guns are weapons that don’t solve problems the honorable way, and the traditional way. This club I carry, my most prized possession, was made by ancestors of mine. Made out of sanded redwood, the emphasis of my ball club is the ball, and the wood composition of the club makes it fast to swing, and hard to strike. This thing may not be enough to kill the dog soldiers, but it has saved our lives many times. I’ve even built necklaces for Hannah out of the dozens of sharp teeth I’ve smashed out of their salivating mouths.”

  “That’s amazing”, said Pack. “Being a soldier trained with a gun, I’ve never really thought about the art of traditional combat.”

  “Huh”, Connor grinned. “Maybe I can give you some pointers, Captain.”

  “Dinnertime”, Hannah announced. “Cans are on the counter, don’t cut yourselves opening them.”

  Kirkley, Hannah, Samantha, Pack, Poet, Riley, Connor and Logan all walked over to the counter and got their food. As Kirkley reached for a can of baked beans, he became suspicious upon the sight of a dark spot in Samantha’s coat. The coat was dark in itself, but this spot was a different shade. This was also the same place that Samantha had her hand over.

  “…Hey, Samantha?” Kirkley asked, “Are you… okay?”

  “Never been better”, she smiled. “We got away, we got some rest, we’re safe, we made new friends, and now we can eat without fear of attack.”

  “Well, I just noticed that you were bleeding quite heavily, and that it’s gone through your clothing”, Kirkley pointed out. “You were perfectly fine before the attack, but during the attack you were knocked over. You were in agony after the blast, and you were in so much pain that Poet had to help you inside, and now here you are feeling all better all of a sudden.”

  “I took a shot of morphine”, Samantha said, pointing to a syringe.

  “Alright”, Kirkley smiled, “Just wanted to make sure you were okay, ‘tis all.”

  After everybody had gathered their food, they sat down around each other.

  “So how long have you all been around here?” Pack asked after taking a sip of hot coffee.

  “We’ve been here for a couple o’ months now”, said Logan. “We lived in an apartment complex several miles from here, but our town was one of the first to be hit by those wolves. Pretty much every other person there was taken, and transformed into those monsters; in fact, most if not all of the wolves in this area are most likely former residents. We all escaped, however, and by the time we had reached Fort William, the entire regiment defending it was ripped apart. Looters executed the soldiers who had survived the dog soldiers’ brutish attack, both to take their vehicles without impediment and to prevent the surviving soldiers from turning. The regiment made a pitiful mistake that the bandits failed to exploit, however: they had locked up their armories and mess hall and supply depots, but the bandits didn’t open them; neither did the soldiers. We came, and Connor clubbed the locks off of the doors, so we have a near-infinite amount of resources.”

  “That’s amazing”, said Kirkley. “We had been making desperate little trips here and there, mainly to Fort Ybarra.”

  “Ybarra?” asked Riley, “I ain’t never heard of it.”

  “Unlike William, the soldiers stationed in Fort Ybarra were able to take the majority of their supplies with them on their journey south, so there wasn’t that much left. We were more like vultures feeding on the scraps than lions with a fresh kill”, Kirkley explained. “So where did you guys get that civilian truck, anyhow? Did you own it or something?”

  “No, we actually found it at that old farmhouse that I rescued you guys from”, said Hannah. “About a week before you arrived, we finally worked up the courage to venture out from here and see what was surrounding us. We found the farmhouse, but we didn’t take what we didn’t need. We needed transportation, so we stole the vehicle, but in case you think of us as bandits, we will lend a hand to anybody in need. We’re like Robin Hood: we steal from the rich and give to the poor.”

  “That’s a noble way of putting it”, Kirkley stated. “Maybe stealing a car defies the respect for the fallen, but you are all very hospitable and generous, so I guess that kind of evens the odds.”

  “We don’t claim to be heroes, but we aren’t villains, either”, said Connor. “We’re survivors, like you.”

  Although the fascinating conversation was redirecting Kirkley’s thoughts away from Samantha, it wasn’t completely working. Kirkley was more or less showing excellent social skills, looking at the speaker, not interrupting, and waiting for other people to get the chance to speak, but every so often, he was looking at Samantha, who kept ravenously scarfing down food with no visible wasteline changes. She had somewhat of a pudgy and flabby belly, the sign of a good chef and a personal turn-me-on to Kirkley, but she didn’t seem to be full and she kept voraciously scarfing down food.

  “You alright, Samantha?”

  “Kirkel, you asked me this before”, Samantha said, getting sterner this time, “I am fine. Stop worrying about me.”

  “Kirkel?” Hannah chuckled.

  “She calls me that”, Kirkley remarked.

  The calm mood of the dinner table conversat
ion was interrupted with the crunching of gravel, heard even through the reinforced door.

  “The dogs”, whispered Pack, “Should we attack them?”

  “No, wait”, Hannah replied in a hushed tone, “ They don’t know that we’re in here. If we make a whole bunch of noise, then not only are they going to know we’re here, but they might try and break in, or they might wait outside.”

  Hannah’s call was the right one. The dog soldiers had been to this place before, and there was nothing there, which led them to believe that there was still nothing. If the humans had made a bunch of noise, then the dogs would realize that there was food locked in a box, and that it would only be a matter of time until they were forced to reemerge. After about half a minute of lingering at the only thing keeping them from the humans, they were successfully fooled in thinking that there was nothing substantial in the human fort.

  “Alright, chums”, Logan said, “Let’s get some shuteye. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

  …

  Being in an eternal eclipse, there was now no longer such a thing as a sunrise or sunset, but time still ticked on. Logan had set an alarm clock, which beeped repeatedly, signaling everyone to wake up. “Alright, chicks and dicks!” Logan shouted, clapping his hands, “Up an’ at ‘em!”

  “Jesus Christ”, Hannah groaned, “Are you trying to signal every wolf from here to London?”

  “No, but if that is what it takes to wake you guys up, then so be it.”

  “What in the wet sack of Su and Sat is he so excited about, anyways?” Kirkley yawned, rubbing his eyes and popping his neck.

  “Logster, you want to explain your plan?” Hannah asked.

  “With gusto. Kirkley, although we have lots of supplies, we don’t have them at the ready, so we were forced to make supply runs to and from the buildings. It was dangerous, because we each have a job to do, but we were completely vulnerable. For example, when I go out to get firewood, I not only have to make multiple trips, but I put myself at risk. But with four of us and four of you, we can create a buddy system”, Logan confidently declared.

  “That’s actually a good idea”, said Pack. “What are the jobs?”

  “Well”, said Logan, “Riley usually stands guard back here, while Connor searches nearby buildings for additional supplies. I go out to get more firewood, and Hannah recharges the generator. Now ordinarily it would take us about two hours, but since we have you lot with us, we can work more efficiently. Go to the armory and get some ammo, we’re going to go do our chores in 15 minutes.”

  Kirkley and his squad walked over to Logan and Hannah’s armory, which was loaded with boxes of shotgun shells, fully loaded STANAG 5.56mm magazines, and military crates loaded with a variety of calibers and explosives. Kirkley opened his backpack and stuck to Hannah’s policy of taking what he needed, so he loaded up with 5 magazines. Samantha started the tedious process of loading her shotgun, shell-by-shell. Poet had lost her weapon during the last stand in the farmhouse, so she picked up an L85, the same weapon that Kirkley had, and grabbed up a few magazines for it as well. There weren’t any magazines for Captain Pack’s weapon, but he still had a few empty ones on him, and there were plenty of 7.62 caliber bullets, so he began to load up.

  Once everybody had maxed out on ammo, they regrouped in the main lobby with their friends. “Alright, chaps”, Logan said, “Riley, you’re standing guard here, as usual. Blow the whistle if you spot a dog, but if you do it for shits and giggles, you’re sleeping outside.”

  “Okay, okay”, Riley sighed.

  “Who among your lads is the best shot?” asked Hannah.

  “Poet. For a civilian, she’s an outstandingly accurate shot”, Kirkley said, complimentarily patting Poet’s shoulder.

  “Alright, Poet”, Hannah said, “You’ll stay here on sentry duty with Riley. If he blows the whistle, and you spot the dogs coming for us, you are authorized to open fire and cover our retreat.”

  “Captain Pack”, said Kirkley, “You go with Connor to get some supplies. I’ll help Hannah refuel the generator powering the complex, and Samantha will go with Logan to gather some firewood to heat our fires.”

  …

  Pack and Connor slowly walked through the ghost town of a military base, searching for more locked doors. Pack’s eyes were trained down the sight of his battle rifle, and Connor stood tall and focused with his battle club.

  “Spotted one”, said Connor. “Don’t know what’s behind it, but there’s a lock on the door. It could be something important.”

  Pack cocked his rifle and prepared to shoot the lock off, but Connor lowered the rifle with his club. “This will make considerably less noise”, he remarked.

  Connor swung his club, smashing the lock with a loud bang. It made noise, but the noise wouldn’t be loud enough to summon a nearby pack of wolves. The vibration of the ball of the sturdy club striking the door also managed to open it when the lock was destroyed.

  “That’s a fine-looking weapon, boy”, Pack said, nodding in respect.

  “It’s the weapon of a warrior”, Connor commented.

  “I’m going to disagree with you on that one”, said Pack, affectionately rubbing the surface of his gun. “In this day and age, in this situation, the way of the gun is the superior one.”

  “The gun is the weapon of a soldier. Soldiers follow orders and fight for somebody else. A warrior follows his heart, and his sense of what is right and wrong. You can become more attached to your weapon, and you can trust it with your life, and in return it will never fail you”, Connor explained.

  “I guess I never really thought of that”, Pack mused.

  “Yes, well much like a gun, it requires patience and training to master”, Connor continued, “To the untrained, a club is a weapon, but their fighting style is easily broken and distorted. To the trained, the war club becomes the most versatile of weapons. It can swing as fast as a sword, but it delivers more blunt force and more stopping power.”

  Connor and Pack ended their discussion and entered the building. The lights were dim, but the interior was still visible, which was nothing more a bunkhouse for the troops. “Damn it”, Pack sighed. “There’s nothing in here. Just clothing, rolled-up beds and pillows.”

  “That’s something”, Connor replied. “Scotland’s a cold place. We all could benefit from additional beds, warm clothes, and pillows. Gotta love pillows, mate.”

  …

  Being put on lookout duty had to be one of the most boring jobs ever, or at least to hyperactive, chatterbox Riley. Poet didn’t mind silence, because she was silent. Poet embraced silence, because it gave her time to meditate and explore the inner depths of her mind, as well as to mentally process things that had happened to her. Riley, of course, didn’t understand this, and kept trying to talk to Poet. As annoyed as Poet was, she wasn’t rude, so she sighed and turned to face Riley.

  “Hey, you want to play some cards or something?”

  “…No thank you”, Poet whispered quietly.

  “You don’t talk too much”, Riley remarked.

  “…Is there any reason why I should?”

  “Because you need to express yourself, instead of keeping everything bottled up inside of you”, said Riley.

  Poet sighed. “…Riley, every time I speak, I feel like I will be responsible for something bad happening to me or my friends. Staying quiet allows me to clear my mind and think straight, both in and out of combat. It keeps me focused and level-headed. That’s why I’m the best shot from here to Takistan.”

  …

  “So, do you have a plan?” Kirkley asked as he assisted Hannah in fueling up the generator.

  “A plan?”

  “A plan to escape”, Kirkley clarified.

  “Kirkley, I’m sorry”, Hannah sighed, “But there’s really nowhere else we can go. And besides, we’ve got everything we need for survival, right here and near.”

  “Hannah, we can’t kill these things”, Kirkley stressed. “Sooner or l
ater, your ammo is going to run dry. Sooner or later, the dog soldiers are going to figure out that there are sitting ducks in Fort William, and sooner or later, they’re going to slaughter all of us. We have a much stronger force now. You have supplies and fuel and ammunition. If we get transportation, perhaps a truck or a transport helicopter, then we can do this. We can get away from the UK, and all of these ravenous monsters that run wild within it.”

  “I know, but… I mean… It took so much strength just to get here. I’m unsure if I can leave again.”

  “I went through the same thing, Hannah”, said Kirkley. “We were living in an abandoned bunker overlooking the ocean. But when our friend Terry was killed, and our supplies began to dwindle, we realized that we had to let it go, and move on. That’s the whole nature of it.”

  “You’re probably right”, replied Hannah. “Still, I need time to think about it. We all need to hear it and put it to a vote. And if we do decide to go through with this plan, we’ll need to muster as many supplies as we can.”

  The fuel indicator on the generator reached its maximum capacity, and the light turned green. “Alright, Kirkley”, Hannah smiled, “We’re good to go. I’m going to bring the can into the bunker, you go see if you can find Captain Pack and Connor.”

  …

  Hacking and beating against wood to get firewood they could use to cook their food was what made Logan sore, but it was what made him physically durable. Since there was only one wood axe, Logan was being forced to do all of the chopping, and Samantha was around to lend him a hand in carrying the load back to camp. Since the battle at the abandoned farmhouse, Samantha had been in pain, barely able to breathe, yet later she managed to limp, then she was perfectly fine, and now she was feeling strong and energized. She felt somewhat bad about snapping at Kirkley, and for bulldozing through their new friends’ canned goods, but she found herself unable to control herself.

  Her thoughts on this odd transformation were put in stasis when Logan said, “Alright, Samantha, I got all of the firewood. This ought to last us for maybe three days’ worth of cooking dinner.”

  “Good”, Samantha replied.