Wolf Pack_Invasion and Conquest

by Rob Buckman

  “You find them?”

  “Yeah, I found them.” Decker answered as he grabbed the man’s chin, jerking his head back and slit his throat.

  This one he had to hold onto as he thrashed around, but it didn’t last long before he went limp. Four down and an unknown number to go. The next room on this side of the farmhouse was more to the back of the house, with one man peeking out the window into the darkness. He didn’t even have night vision so it was doubtful he saw anything. Decker slipped into the room and slit his throat before he was even aware he was there. With this side now clear of ‘tangos’, Decker moved to the opposite room on the other side of the hallway, but oddly this one, a bedroom, was empty, even though it had a window looking out onto the back yard. That left the main front room and possibly a kitchen to search. He’d let the girls worry about searching any out buildings or storerooms.

  “Moving to the main room of the house," he whispered into his mic, "did you catch the girl?”

  “Ten-four Wolfman - we have her safe - you need help?”

  “Everything is tickity-bo so far - I need you to search the outbuildings for any hideouts.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Now came the fun part he’d trained for so many times in the ‘Kill House’. The SAS called it hostage rescue, but he called it the slaughterhouse, and fifteen minutes of sheer panic. You don’t make a mistake here as usually the ‘hostage’ was a live SAS instructor, and they tended to get a little pissed off if you shot them by mistake. With gas masks on, in semi darkness, thunder-flashes going off, and live ammo slamming into the rubber-lined walls, it wasn’t for the weak of heart. As you moved from room to room, you had to take down pop-up target of bad guys within a given period. It didn’t matter how many times you did it, as they changed the position of the targets and the location of the ‘hostage’. In its time, the ‘Kill House’ had seen many distinguished ‘hostages’, from the MP, Margaret Thatcher, to the Prince and Princess of Wales. Thankfully, he never had to do one of those, as usually the target tangos were no more than a few feet from the live hostage. He checked his M4A1 assault rifle to make sure the silencer, or sound suppressor was screwed down tight. Just to be on the safe side he switched to a fresh, 30 round mag while taking several deep breaths to calm his nerves, before he moved quickly through the doorway into the living room. The flash and the sound of the bolt alerted the perps, and even as they swung their weapons around, he was taking them out. Pop-Pop, Pop-Pop, Pop-Pop and three men were down. One man at the far end of the room managed to get off a burst before Decker took him down, but one of the 7.62 mm rounds hit him on the shoulder. Suddenly it was all over and Decker let out a shuddering breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He looked around, still suspicious someone might still be hiding, but all he saw or heard was the sound of the sobbing girls.

  “Bring the team in but be careful.” He called.

  “Ten-four - search parties checking the out buildings.”

  “Good - shoot any assholes you find.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: BARN DANCE

  An hour later, with the generator running again, Decker took stock of the house and the hostages, still feeling the aftershock of battle. Krista was right, they were all young girls, ranging in age from thirteen to eighteen. He turned away, unable to look at their bruised and battered bodies, their back striped with whip marks, wishing he could kill these assholes all over again. He'd never understand why men degenerated to this, using them like whores, instead of protecting them like any decent man would. At one time he’d seen mercy and innocence in the Pack's eyes, but no more. They’d seen just how bad it was out here, and now had no qualms about shooting or killing people like these. Now they had to teach the new girls the same lesson he’d taught them. That was good, if he was shot or killed in some way, he knew they’d be able to carry on without him.

  Whoever these assholes were, they’d found themselves a sweet set up, and killed the owner and his family. Besides the generator, the roofs of the two main buildings were covered with solar cells, augmented by a wind generator up on the hill. A wind powered windmill pumped water to a large gravity tank for the house and the stock. In the dawn light, Decker eyed the cammo netting over his head, wondering if the late owner or the perps thought that up, but whoever it was, it did stop the alien gun ships from spotting people moving around on the ground. Walking back into the house he ran into Doc Mason who promptly nailed him.

  “Alright tough guy, you’re next.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, strip and let me have a look at that shoulder.”

  “What are you talking …aah!” He groaned as she poked him in the left shoulder. “Shit, that hurt!” He muttered looking at his blood stained shoulder. Oddly, he hadn’t realized that he’d been hit that bad. He’d felt the AK round hit him in the shoulder and put the pain down to that, forgetting the alien armor didn’t transfer the impact shock to the body like his old gear. The kitchen provided the Doc with a dressing station, and from the look of the bucket of bloody dressings, she’d had a few patients in here all ready.

  “How bad did we get hit, Doc?” He asked as he stripped.

  “Not too bad. Most are walking wounded, but Krista’s number two, Wendy Henderson took one in the leg, so she won’t be able to walk for a few days, maybe a week.” Decker winced, partly due to the pain when he removed his armor and partly due to the news, they couldn’t move for a week.

  “You got lucky. The bullet only grazed you, but it’ll need a few stitches.” Doc was right, he been hit twice, the first impacting the body armor, the second ripping across his upper arm.

  “Other than that, how are the girls holding up?”

  “I thought you didn’t care?” She asked, looking him in the eye.

  “You know better than that, Doc.”

  “Yes, I do, and why you can’t afford to hold their hands. They have to stand on their own two feet and do what has to be done to survive.” Surprisingly she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “God love you for that. You’re a big softy at heart.” She muttered and continued stitching his wound closed.

  “Hope you didn’t tell the girls that. You’ll spoil my tough guy image.”

  “Never said a word. They still think of you as the cold-eyed, sadistic, killing machine they’d come to love.”

  “So, how they doing?”

  “Oh, the usual, cuts, bumps, scrapes, and what have you. One or two broken fingers but so far nothing serious. There are a few um…female problems I needed to take care of, but nothing you need to know about. They’d still grouch, but what bunch of soldiers doesn’t.”

  “You said soldiers, Doc, are they?” She grinned at him as she applied the dressing.

  “Yes, they are gradually becoming real soldiers, thanks to you.”

  “Nar, they did it themselves. Once they knew the score, they didn’t really have a choice.”

  “Well, whatever, with your training they now know they can handle themselves, so you can stop worrying about what will happen to them if you go get yourself killed.”

  “Well, thanks for the pep talk… ouch! What was that for?” He asked seeing the needle in her hand.

  “Listen to me, tough guy. I just did my usual wonderful needlepoint stitching on you, but you go and rip those out and the next time I’ll use a darning needle and string!”

  “Wow… okay, but you need to work on your bed side manner, the one you've got sucks big time.”

  “Yeah, well, just remember what I said. Now get the hell out of my office so I can work on a real person who appreciates my tender loving care.” Before she got out of arms reach, Decker grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.

  “Thanks, Doc. Much appreciate your caring.” He whispered and kissed her on the cheek. She looked at him and smiled.

  “Why is it that girls the world over find your kind so damned irresistible?”

  “My kind?”

  “Yeah, here today, the gone tomorrow kind and not even a goodbye kiss
or thank you for the f…” He kissed her to stop her saying the last word.

  “It’s my winning personality, Doc. You know me, the cuddly, loveable, stay-at-home type, with a faithful lap dog personality.” Doc Mason snorted hearing that.

  “Oh, get the hell out of here and stop trying to sweet talk your way into my bed. I’m too old for that line of BS.” She smiled as she said it and Decker gave her an appraising look.

  “Gona need to find you a man soon, Doc unless you have Bromide handy.” He chuckled at he walked out.

  “Bromide?” He just grinned at her and left.

  Then she remembered reading an article a few years ago on ‘Sex and the British Soldier’ by Paul Farris, in which he referred to the use of bromide in the tea to reduce libido of the soldiers. This article had it that the new recruits were so virile they needed taming and containment by drugs, less they put the virtue of every girl within a hundred miles of the base in jeopardy. She knew this was nothing more than an urban myth, but maybe he was right, and she needed to find something. By now, most of the girls had pared up with someone, and found ways to release their sexual tensions and frustrations, even supposedly ‘straight’ girls at that, but as Decker said, that was none of his business.

  She did however worry about Decker. He had no release that she knew of, and he refused on principal to take any of the girls to bed less it upset the others, and started them fighting among themselves about who should get into his sleeping bag next. That could destroy unit cohesion in a heartbeat, and quicker than the enemy. She was betting the little hellion, Joann would be the first one in his bed, and she made no secret about it. She was also a ‘loner’, and still hadn’t found someone to share her sleeping bag with. Of course, Decker only had to crook his little finger and she’d be all over him like white on rice, as they say. She shook her head, admiring Decker’s stamina and fortitude. After dressing, Decker continued his survey of the farm, and it wasn’t long before Margery Cumming came walking up looking pensive.

  “What the hell!” He asked, looking at the ragged hole in her battle dress jacket. She looked down and shrugged.

  “One of those assholes shot me, twice with a fucking shotgun. Sheesh! Look at the mess he made of my new jacket and shirt.” Decker grinned, looking at the shredded mess.

  “Hope you blew his head off.”

  “Oh yeah. He’s walking around hell with his head under his arm now.”

  “So, why the pensive look?”

  “Um… well… we found a bunch of sheep in the paddock, and I thought we’d shoot one and have it for dinner.”

  “Great idea… and what?”

  “Shit! One look at their faces and no one has the heart to shoot one.” She looked abashed. Decker closed his eyes for a second.

  “You’re telling me the girls can rip a man apart with their little knives, but they can’t shoot one damn sheep?” Margery nodded. “Of all the stupid… where are they?” He asked, pulling his sidearm.

  Someone had penned up ten or so sheep in a paddock, probably to have them on hand and ready for butchering as needed. There were twenty odd sheepskins hanging over the rail fence already. It also gave Decker an idea just how long this gang had been staying here. Nevertheless, Margery was right, the sheep did look harmless, helpless, and cute, but Decker didn’t let that stop him as he climbed through the rail and shot the closest one in the head.

  “Skin that out and hand the quarters out to the cooks.”

  “Yes, sir… but… um… well. None of us has ever done that.” Decker pinched the bridge of his nose before reaching down to grab the dead sheep by the hind legs, and drag it out of the paddock to a nearby shed. As he’d guessed, the gang used this as a slaughterhouse by the stench, and even had a rope and pulley to haul the sheep up for butchering.

  “Get the team leaders over here so they can see how it’s done.” Decker ordered as he stripped off his gear. “They can instruct the others as needed.” So much for society teaching the younger generation about survival.

  Decker took care to skin the beast properly before butchering it, adding the skin to the ones on the fence. After that, the green faced team leaders took their quarters back to the team cook. While washing up in an old rusty tub, Decker looked around the paddock and pasture, and he suddenly had an idea. He held off saying anything until later after everyone had eaten. During the day, the girls rotated through the house to take hot showers and wash their uniforms in the farms washing machine. By nightfall they all looked clean and bright again, and smiling for once. Finding a bottle of whisky, Decker called a team leader meeting, and after a couple of drinks, he put his idea to them.

  “Looking at those sheep today reminded me of something I read a while ago by a guy named Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. I won’t go into the whole thing, and you know the story about sheep and sheepdogs. It was one particular section that I remember that goes something like this. ‘The sheepdog disturbs the sheep and they much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, Baa’.” The girls nodded, understanding now what he’d tried to teach them in the beginning.

  “And your point?” Joann asked. He’d invited her, as she was his over-watch and not part of any team.

  “I got to thinking that the aliens don’t take any notice of sheep, cattle, horses, and such. Take that flock out in the pasture. The aliens fly over regularly and don’t ever slow down.”

  “That’s true, so?” Krista asked.

  “We need to move a lot faster than we’ve been doing, and that means moving during the day. So, we are going to paint ourselves white and go ‘Baa’.” For a few seconds they sat there and looked at him, mulling over the suggestion.

  “Good God! He’s right. Painted white and moving as if we were a herd of sheep, we could move up the road or across open land during the day and not have to worry about the UFMs when they fly over.”

  “Can’t we use the sheep skins?”

  “Yes, we can use them as well, especially for the scouts, point, and flankers.”

  “Wait, I have an idea, why not take the sheep with us, that way we’ll have food on the hoof?” Margery Cumming added.

  “Great idea. We’ll just have to keep them with Echo team and herd them along as we go.” Joann put her hand up rather like a kid in school.

  “Yes, you can go to the can, Joann.” Margery chuckled. Joann shot her a nasty look.

  “It’s not that. I have an idea.”

  “Really… besides figuring out a way to get into Decker’s bed?” Kim Drummond laughed.

  “Hey, I’m here you know!” Decker grumbled.

  “Yeah, me and half the girls here.”

  “Joann, behave yourself. Tell us your idea.” Grace Lowery admonished.

  “Well… okay. It’s about the teams and equipment we have to carry…”

  “Suck it up, soldier. We are all in the same boat here.”

  “That’s just what I mean. Hate to say it, but they’re slowing us down.”

  “True, but what else can we do?” Decker asked.

  “Well, I was looking around and I came across this old shopping cart, and I was thinking we might be able to use them to carry a lot of our gear.”

  “Okay on the road, but what about when we have to cut across country or climb over the mountains?” Joann looked crest fallen.

  “Wait a sec. She has an idea, but I feel we can improve on that.”

  “How so?”

  “Bicycle wheels.” Decker added. That sat them all back as they thought about it.

  “You’re thinking of a two-wheeled cart that one or two people can pull?”

  “Yes, exactly. The main job would fall to Echo group in the center.”

  “But what about the aliens, won’t they notice a group of sheep hauling carts?”

  “Not if we use the sheep skins to cover them.”

  “Good lord. He’s right. The aliens probably have no idea what sheep are supposed to look like.”

  “Maybe we could
do a small test with volunteers, and have them walk back and forth on the road to see what happens.”

  “Wow, that’s a bit risky, Krista. What if the UFMs decide to shoot them?” That brought silence to the group.

  “I’ll do it.” Joann murmured.

  “We’ll explain to the others and ask for volunteers. Ten should be enough.”

  “What do we need?” Krista asked.

  “I need you to take your scouts and point team down the road to Canebrake and Onyx, and find every bicycle wheel you can lay your hands on. Also, check all the auto repair shops for tire repair kits. We’re also going to need steel rods for axles and two-by fours to make the frames and handles. Oh, don’t forget the tire pumps.”

  “Wow, that’s going to take us more than a day, and what about tools?”

  “The workshop here has enough tools to do the job… but I’m thinking that we need to make a couple right now. You could use them to haul all the stuff back.” That brought a smile, as the thought of lugging all that stuff back in this heat was no joke.

  “Oh yes, and round up as much white spray paint or even cans of white paint and brushes, as we’ll need to coat everyone’s Ghillie suit.”

  “Even the active cammo?”

  “No, just the non-active ones.”

  After a couple more stiff belts of the whiskey, the group broke up and went back to their teams to explain the plan. As Pack leader, Decker got the master bedroom to himself, and looked forward to spending a couple of nights in a proper bed. He heard the shower running as the last of the girls took theirs, and the moment it was free, Decker stripped and took one himself. Feeling refreshed and wearing clean underwear for the first time in weeks, he slipped between the sheets with a sigh. Dimly he heard the shower running, but didn’t think anything of it until his bedroom door opened. Neither Max nor Goldie reacted, which meant it was someone they knew. Even so, Decker slipped his hand under the pillow for the Glock. In the dimness, he saw someone drop the towel as whoever it was came towards the bed, thinking it was probably Joann. A soft hand closed on his as he was about to switch the bedroom light on and tell her to go away. A warm body slipped into bed beside him, and it wasn't Joann, but in the darkness, he couldn’t really tell who it was. A kiss and soft hands began caressing his body, feeling himself harden at the touch, silencing his protest. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, but even so, the specter of dissention in the team held him back.