Cassandra made her way back to her bunk and packed quickly. Her meager belongings barely filled a knapsack. She pulled a cap down over her eyes and made her way towards the armoury. She kept her head down and moved swiftly, taking advantage of the commotion of the bug out to remain unseen. The room was empty, the weapons still in place. She grabbed two hand guns, a shot gun and enough ammunition to take out a whole squad. She thought about taking something larger, but didn't want to be hampered by too much weight. She peeked out and found the coast was clear. Her peripheral vision caught sight of something; grenades and explosives. Impulsively she grabbed a handful, shoving them into her pack, making sure to include enough blasting caps. Explosives were useless if you couldn't detonate them. She checked her exit again,then walked purposely towards the door. She was almost there when a voice called out from behind her.
"Halt! Where do you think you're going?"
Cassandra fought the instinct to bolt. She turned slowly, keeping her eyes down, her cap low over her face. She kept her answers short.
"Orders are to bug out, Sir!"
She glanced up as Glover came towards her. She tried to remain calm. He looked her over, regarded the fire power she was carrying. He'd heard Pryor still hadn't returned, knew she was being blamed for it. He also knew her future with the unit was dim . Better for her to die on her feet than to live on her knees.
"Come with me."
Cassandra froze. Her flight response flared, she felt her muscles begin to tense. Glover grabbed her arm and pulled her forward.
"I said move."
Cassandra steeled herself for the assault that was certain to come. Jeffries wouldn't wait for them to reestablish their new base; he'd slit her throat here and now. She blindly followed Glover, only coming to her senses when she realized they were back in the armoury. He pulled the shot gun off her back and replaced it with a higher caliber weapon. He inspected her knapsack, then looked up at her.
"There's no food. How far do you expect to get without provisions?"
Cassandra shook her head. Was this a trap? Her gut told her it wasn't.
"I only need to get back to town. I figured I'd go back to the bar where I last saw Pryor and try to pick up his trail from there."
Glover nodded.
"Good enough place to start. Then what?"
"If he's alive, help him finish the mission. If he's dead, finish it myself."
"Do you know the objective?"
"Disengage."
"Disengage what?"
Cassandra started to answer, then realized she didn't know what for sure. Glover looked pissed.
"You can't complete a mission if you don't know what it is."
He thought a moment. Was there still a chance this cluster fuck could be saved? He looked at the girl; what she lacked in intelligence she more than made up for in determination. He cursed under his breath.
"Fuck it! We're losing our window of opportunity. Wait here until I come back. Don't get caught. I won't be able to save you.
Cassandra hid behind a locker of explosives and waited. Glover returned, armed himself, and then motioned for her to follow him. They made their way slowly across the camp, their journey tedious in their attempt to not draw attention to themselves in the midst of all the activity. They reached the perimeter of the camp, picking up their pace in order to increase the distance between them and the camp. The two of them moved at a fast march for several miles, reaching the edge of town within 45 minutes. Glover motioned for them to ease up; it was almost Zero Nine Hundred, and the town was bustling. Cassandra leaned against a wall, trying to stay upright. Her initial burst of adrenaline had worn off, the fatigue she'd been fighting during her interrogation began to pull her down into an undertow of exhaustion. She put her other arm out to brace herself against the wall, crashing instead into Glover's back. He turned and grabbed her, cursing as he steadied her, placing her down on the ground.
"When's the last time you slept?"
Cassandra bit her lip until she tasted blood in an attempt to revive herself. She shook her head and took a deep breath.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
Glover looked around for a place for them to hide. He spied a small stable across the street; goats and chickens wandered around in front. Above the stable was a small loft filled with hay and straw. He pulled Cassandra to her feet, and steered her forward. He walked to the back of the stable, looking for an entrance to the loft. There was a hole in the ceiling. He pulled himself up, making sure they were alone. He leaned back down and motioned for Cassandra to raise her arms above her head. He pulled her up, and motioned to a pile of hay in the corner of the loft.
"Crawl in there and get some sleep. I'm going to see what I can find out around town. Where was the last place you saw Pryor?"
Cassandra struggled to remember where the bar was. She felt dizzy and nauseous.
"A bar on Baker Street called the Limber Nymph. A real slime hole. I don't remember any nymphs, though."
Glover shook his head and pushed her into the hay, burying her deep within. Minutes later she was fast asleep. Glover sat and considered his next move. How were they going to find Pryor? He concealed his weapon and pulled his hood up over his head. He checked the stable, dropping to the floor. A goat bleated his disapproval at the intrusion. Glover laughed, stroking the goat's head.
"Watch your tone, son. People get mighty hungry at the end of the day."
He patted the goat's side, looked around, and slowly made his way into town.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Full Wolf Moon-Part Seven
"And then?"
Cassandra tried to keep her eyes open. She'd been up all night, answering the same questions over and over again. Yes, she gave him the message. They'd been interrupted by an officer. No, she didn't know if he'd been captured or had been able to carry out his orders. She'd been running too fast to escape the bar. All she knew was she needed sleep.
The two men turned away and walked towards the window. It was almost dawn. She had returned a little after midnight; if Pryor had been successful in his mission he should have rendezvoused with them at O-four hundred. He was two hours late.
"Now what?"
Jeffries shrugged and lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke towards the window. The first rays of sunlight were streaking across the horizon. He held the pack out to Nolan; Nolan took one and let it hang out of the corner of his mouth. Pryor knew that being captured wasn't an option; a cyanide capsule was. It was more dangerous if he'd been compromised and unable to return to his barracks and complete the mission. Jeffries took another drag off his cigarette, then walked back to the girl. She was sitting in her chair, eyes closed, her breath rhythmic. He stood behind her and stubbed out his cigarette on the back of her neck. She jumped out of her seat, slapping her hand to her neck and wheeling around at her tormentor. Jefferies regarded her impassively.
"I didn't give you permission to sleep Cassandra."
Cassandra stood her ground. She was tired of being treated as a party favor passed around by
the senior members of the organization. She glared at Jeffries, her hands balled up into fists. Nolan laughed softly as he sauntered over. Jeffies grabbed her by the hair, pulling her off her feet, until they were eye to eye.
"We may have been compromised. Our whole organization may be in imminent danger of being wiped out, all because you were unable to deliver a simple message."
Cassandra grabbed at his hands above her head, her feet kicking the air. She took a deep breath to keep her voice steady.
"I delivered the message. Pryor said he needed more time. He said you needed to be patient. You needed to trust him."
Jeffries dropped her to the floor. She was only good for one thing. And there wasn't time for that now. He looked over towards Nolan.
"Move out. It's too dangerous to stay here. We need to go deeper under ground until we find out exactly what's going on. Get a team together and see what you can find out. And as for you . . ."
He bent down and pulled Cassandra to her knees, pressing her face hard against his crotch with one hand while the other held a large knife to her throat. Cassandra fought the urge to bite him.
"You have only one purpose for this unit. Don't ever forget it. And don't ever think that will change. You had your chance to be useful. You blew it. Get your rest; once we resettle, I throw you to the rest of the team. For their enjoyment, and my amusement."
He threw her to the floor and left the room, his foot steps echoing down the hall. Nolan knelt down next to her, drawing her close to him.
"Don't worry Cassandra. I'll take care of you."
Nolan stuck his tongue in her mouth, his hands groping her breasts and between her legs. He pushed her onto her stomach and pulled at her pants; she grimaced as he raped her, struggling not to cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He finished (he was known as "Quick Shot" for reasons other than his marksmanship ), got dressed, then kicked her naked ass with his boot. Cassandra lay there, trying to catch her breath and compose herself. Nolan walked towards the door, calling over his shoulder.
"Thanks. I hate to wait for sloppy seconds."
Cassandra waited, listening to the sounds of the unit being mobilized. She had to leave, now, while there was so much activity going on. She wouldn't be missed; she'd strike out on her own, and track down Pryor by herself. It would be a hardship, but it wouldn't be any worse than how she was surviving now.
She'd find Pryor, she'd make sure of it, if only to kick his ass for putting her in this predicament.
Cassandra tried to keep her eyes open. She'd been up all night, answering the same questions over and over again. Yes, she gave him the message. They'd been interrupted by an officer. No, she didn't know if he'd been captured or had been able to carry out his orders. She'd been running too fast to escape the bar. All she knew was she needed sleep.
The two men turned away and walked towards the window. It was almost dawn. She had returned a little after midnight; if Pryor had been successful in his mission he should have rendezvoused with them at O-four hundred. He was two hours late.
"Now what?"
Jeffries shrugged and lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke towards the window. The first rays of sunlight were streaking across the horizon. He held the pack out to Nolan; Nolan took one and let it hang out of the corner of his mouth. Pryor knew that being captured wasn't an option; a cyanide capsule was. It was more dangerous if he'd been compromised and unable to return to his barracks and complete the mission. Jeffries took another drag off his cigarette, then walked back to the girl. She was sitting in her chair, eyes closed, her breath rhythmic. He stood behind her and stubbed out his cigarette on the back of her neck. She jumped out of her seat, slapping her hand to her neck and wheeling around at her tormentor. Jefferies regarded her impassively.
"I didn't give you permission to sleep Cassandra."
Cassandra stood her ground. She was tired of being treated as a party favor passed around by
the senior members of the organization. She glared at Jeffries, her hands balled up into fists. Nolan laughed softly as he sauntered over. Jeffies grabbed her by the hair, pulling her off her feet, until they were eye to eye.
"We may have been compromised. Our whole organization may be in imminent danger of being wiped out, all because you were unable to deliver a simple message."
Cassandra grabbed at his hands above her head, her feet kicking the air. She took a deep breath to keep her voice steady.
"I delivered the message. Pryor said he needed more time. He said you needed to be patient. You needed to trust him."
Jeffries dropped her to the floor. She was only good for one thing. And there wasn't time for that now. He looked over towards Nolan.
"Move out. It's too dangerous to stay here. We need to go deeper under ground until we find out exactly what's going on. Get a team together and see what you can find out. And as for you . . ."
He bent down and pulled Cassandra to her knees, pressing her face hard against his crotch with one hand while the other held a large knife to her throat. Cassandra fought the urge to bite him.
"You have only one purpose for this unit. Don't ever forget it. And don't ever think that will change. You had your chance to be useful. You blew it. Get your rest; once we resettle, I throw you to the rest of the team. For their enjoyment, and my amusement."
He threw her to the floor and left the room, his foot steps echoing down the hall. Nolan knelt down next to her, drawing her close to him.
"Don't worry Cassandra. I'll take care of you."
Nolan stuck his tongue in her mouth, his hands groping her breasts and between her legs. He pushed her onto her stomach and pulled at her pants; she grimaced as he raped her, struggling not to cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He finished (he was known as "Quick Shot" for reasons other than his marksmanship ), got dressed, then kicked her naked ass with his boot. Cassandra lay there, trying to catch her breath and compose herself. Nolan walked towards the door, calling over his shoulder.
"Thanks. I hate to wait for sloppy seconds."
Cassandra waited, listening to the sounds of the unit being mobilized. She had to leave, now, while there was so much activity going on. She wouldn't be missed; she'd strike out on her own, and track down Pryor by herself. It would be a hardship, but it wouldn't be any worse than how she was surviving now.
She'd find Pryor, she'd make sure of it, if only to kick his ass for putting her in this predicament.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Full Wolf Moon-Part Six
"Why can't you just accept the facts? They're right in front of you."
Right in front of you.
Right in front.
In front of you.
He was floating. He was falling. He was weightless, then solid as a rock. There was silence, then a wave of sound. Death had come in a matter of minutes, but for reasons he couldn't understand, Pryor still had some sense of consciousness.
His veins burned as fluid was pumped into them. Why was he still able to feel? Why couldn't he get her voice out of his head? Her voice? But she was dead. So was he.
She was there. She wasn't. He thought he felt her hands on his body, her voice in his ear. The scent of a lavish meal wafted up his nostrils; was he in Valhalla? He followed the scent like a dog tracking prey, began to recognize voices and sounds as he stumbled towards a huge wooden door. A gate? He leaned his body against the massive oak and pushed; slowly the door gave way. He found himself in a room of long tables covered in food and drink. Venison, chicken, duck, steer; flagons of wine and beer and mead flowed like the tears of a betrayed woman. She stood against the wall, a goblet encased in her hands. He began to stumble towards her when a hand flashed in his face, baring his path. Pryor looked to his left to see who dared to refuse him entrance. Heimdallr!
Pryor held his gaze. He would not be denied tribute for battles bravely fought. At last he could rest, at last they could be reunited.
Heimdallr stood impassively, his icy blue eyes judging Pryor and finding him wanting. He spoke very softly, yet it seemed as if thunder filled the air.
"You do not belong here. Your death was not achieved in battle. You followed the path of the coward, taking your own life. You have brought shame to your claim of warrior."
Pryor struggled to find his voice. He would not be denied.
"I have fought many battles! I have led men to victory! I have earned my right to rest in this mighty hall and wait for my turn to battle in Ragnarok!"
"No. Not yet. You have not died a warrior's death. Perhaps you never will."
Pryor's eyes widened; for the first time in his life, he felt fear.
Heimdallr's gaze drifted above Pryor's head, seeing into the future.
"You cannot die, Pryor. You will be undead for all eternity."
Pryor began to scream as he was pulled away from the doorway, away from her and honor and glory. Again he felt the sensations of falling and flying, his arms and legs powerless. He tossed and turned until he felt he was being twisted inside out. Finally he felt a hard surface beneath him; his body recognized it as the slab he had been laying on in the charnal house. He could make out the vague outline of wires and tubes as they dangled above him, and he began to recognize an abnormal thirst within his throat.
An abnormal thirst for blood. Human blood.
Right in front of you.
Right in front.
In front of you.
He was floating. He was falling. He was weightless, then solid as a rock. There was silence, then a wave of sound. Death had come in a matter of minutes, but for reasons he couldn't understand, Pryor still had some sense of consciousness.
His veins burned as fluid was pumped into them. Why was he still able to feel? Why couldn't he get her voice out of his head? Her voice? But she was dead. So was he.
She was there. She wasn't. He thought he felt her hands on his body, her voice in his ear. The scent of a lavish meal wafted up his nostrils; was he in Valhalla? He followed the scent like a dog tracking prey, began to recognize voices and sounds as he stumbled towards a huge wooden door. A gate? He leaned his body against the massive oak and pushed; slowly the door gave way. He found himself in a room of long tables covered in food and drink. Venison, chicken, duck, steer; flagons of wine and beer and mead flowed like the tears of a betrayed woman. She stood against the wall, a goblet encased in her hands. He began to stumble towards her when a hand flashed in his face, baring his path. Pryor looked to his left to see who dared to refuse him entrance. Heimdallr!
Pryor held his gaze. He would not be denied tribute for battles bravely fought. At last he could rest, at last they could be reunited.
Heimdallr stood impassively, his icy blue eyes judging Pryor and finding him wanting. He spoke very softly, yet it seemed as if thunder filled the air.
"You do not belong here. Your death was not achieved in battle. You followed the path of the coward, taking your own life. You have brought shame to your claim of warrior."
Pryor struggled to find his voice. He would not be denied.
"I have fought many battles! I have led men to victory! I have earned my right to rest in this mighty hall and wait for my turn to battle in Ragnarok!"
"No. Not yet. You have not died a warrior's death. Perhaps you never will."
Pryor's eyes widened; for the first time in his life, he felt fear.
Heimdallr's gaze drifted above Pryor's head, seeing into the future.
"You cannot die, Pryor. You will be undead for all eternity."
Pryor began to scream as he was pulled away from the doorway, away from her and honor and glory. Again he felt the sensations of falling and flying, his arms and legs powerless. He tossed and turned until he felt he was being twisted inside out. Finally he felt a hard surface beneath him; his body recognized it as the slab he had been laying on in the charnal house. He could make out the vague outline of wires and tubes as they dangled above him, and he began to recognize an abnormal thirst within his throat.
An abnormal thirst for blood. Human blood.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Full Wolf Moon-Part Five
"Try to stay off it for a few days."
Edwards snorted and pulled his pants back up, testing his weight on the leg. It stung, but he'd live. He shouldered his weapon and walked out of the infirmary looking for his men. He found them across the street in a tight circle. Cries of fear and pain emanated from within. He walked up and pushed his way towards the middle. Edwards cursed as he saw what was giving his men so much entertainment. What the hell was he doing out of his lair?
It was the little man, crouched in a small ball to protect himself. Edwards kicked him; the little man yelped and pulled himself tighter.
"Stand up," Edwards snarled. "What the hell do you want?
The little man began to shake; he looked like a terrified armadillo. Slowly he stretched out his arm, his other hand still wrapped around his head. He began to whine. Something shiny dangled from his clenched fist. Edwards grabbed it, turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened as he saw the name on the dog tags: PRYOR.
"Where did you get this?"
The little man muttered into his chest. Edwards kicked him hard across the road; the little
man screamed and cried as he crashed into a wall.
"I SAID WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?!"
"He was brought in about an hour ago. Cyanide pill. He was dead on arrival."
Edwards walked over and placed his boot upon the man's chest. He started to press down.
"And why did you bring this to me?"
The little man began to struggle, tried to lift the boot off. His eyes started to roll back into his head; Edwards released the pressure so he wouldn't faint. The little man lay still and silent. Edwards started to prod him with his foot, then sighed, and crouched down next to him. He opened his canteen, took a swig of water, then spit it into the little man's face to revive him. The little man sputtered and coughed. Edwards began to speak again, this time slowly and quietly.
"Come on now friend. We've known each other a long time now. We have no secrets between us. Why did you bring these tags to me?"
The little man sat up and started to rock back and forth. He eyed Edwards cautiously; telling the truth might get him killed. Lying and then being found out would most definitely . He leaned towards Edwards.
"Pryor told me to bring them to you. He wants me to turn him. He wants to be the alpha male, and lead the army."
"Does he now? And where is the good lieutenant at this moment?"
The little man wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"He's back at the lab."
Edwards nodded his head.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes. He took a cyanide capsule. I have him hooked up to the serum now."
Edwards sat back on his heels and let his gaze wander to the moon. Almost full. He held up the dog tags, letting the moon light bounce off of them.
"Will he be ready by the full moon?"
"I'm not sure, he hasn't been receiving the serum as long as the others. I had to double the drip on him."
Edwards rubbed his chin.Too little and he wouldn't turn. Too much and he might be an even bigger liability. Edwards looked down at the little man and smiled.
"Triple the drip."
The little man sprung to his feet.
"Triple the drip? Are you mad? He'll be a monster! Who'll be able to control such a beast?"
Edwards held the tags up once again and let them glimmer in the moonlight. His voice was almost wistful.
"I don't know old friend. Maybe it would be best to put a poor beast like that out of his misery."
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Because
I wear your deodorant,
close my eyes,
and
convince myself,
You're here
because
I can still smell
you.
close my eyes,
and
convince myself,
You're here
because
I can still smell
you.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Full Wolf Moon-Part Four
The idea was just crazy enough to work. What better weapon to use to attack than an army of the undead? Whether or not they were as invincible as the little man believed was not important. The important thing was casualties would be one sided.
Pryor walked over to a slab and lifted a sheet. The body was sallow, the eyes dark and sunken into the face. Otherwise it looked to be perfectly fine. He looked over to the little man.
"How did all these men die? I see no wounds on the body. Their limbs are still attached. How did they wind up here?"
The little man scurried over and ripped the sheet out of Pryor's hand, then gently place it back over the body, tucking it in slightly around the form. He threw a quick glance up towards Pryor.
"A gas leak at the barracks in Company E. They all died in their sleep two nights ago."
Pryor didn't believe him. Company E had been intact when he left for the bar earlier in the evening. The little man began to scurry about the room, adjusting wires, smoothing sheets. He seemed to have grown tired of Pryor's company.
"How soon can you have your army ready" Pryor called out to him.
The little man continued his nervous ministrations, doing his best to keep his distance from Pryor.
"I'm not sure. Come back tomorrow. Tell Edwards I'll have a better idea in the morning."
Edwards?! What did he have to do with all of this? Pryor strode over to the little man and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him off the floor. The man squealed and thrashed about, trying to break free. Pryor stuck his face close to his.
"What else should I tell Edwards?"
"Let me down, let me down! I have to monitor the lycan drip, too much and you'll be unable to control them, not enough and they won't turn when the moon rises!"
Pryor's mouth dropped open. When they turn? He dropped the little man and walked slowly towards one of the bodies, hesitating slightly before pulling the sheet away. Once again he studied what was lying before him. He started to speak softly and slowly.
"Do you mean to tell me these men will turn in werewolves when the moon is full?"
The little man looked down at the ground.
"Yes, yes. The moon will be full in two nights. Edwards wanted them ready by then."
Pryor shook his head. How could anyone control an army of lycans? What was Edwards thinking?
He sat down next to the body.
"Have you tried it before? How do you know it will work?"
The little man shuffled closer to Pryor. He kept his voice low.
"I've had success with one or two reanimations. As soon as the moon rises they change, and that combined with their military training makes them easy to control. The trick is to make sure they've completely changed into a wolf. They follow a pack mentality then. They'll follow the alpha male."
"And how do they determine the alpha male?"
"They fight for it. They fight to see who's the most dominate."
Pryor thought for a minute. Two days. Could he afford to wait for two more days? He needed to get back to the base to destroy the evidence, but if he had an army with him he could do more than that. He needed a way to get a false report of his death out. And then what? How would he control them? How would he keep Edwards at bay? He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocked and began to illustrate a map. He finished, then ripped his dog tag from his neck. He held it out to the little man.
"You need to take this to Edwards. Tell him I'm one of the bodies here."
The little man took the dog tags. He shook his head.
"Edwards will never believe me. He'll want proof. He'll want to see a body."
Pryor smiled and rolled up his sleeve.
"Then let him see one. Hook me up to one of those machines. Turn me. I'll be the alpha male."
Pryor walked over to a slab and lifted a sheet. The body was sallow, the eyes dark and sunken into the face. Otherwise it looked to be perfectly fine. He looked over to the little man.
"How did all these men die? I see no wounds on the body. Their limbs are still attached. How did they wind up here?"
The little man scurried over and ripped the sheet out of Pryor's hand, then gently place it back over the body, tucking it in slightly around the form. He threw a quick glance up towards Pryor.
"A gas leak at the barracks in Company E. They all died in their sleep two nights ago."
Pryor didn't believe him. Company E had been intact when he left for the bar earlier in the evening. The little man began to scurry about the room, adjusting wires, smoothing sheets. He seemed to have grown tired of Pryor's company.
"How soon can you have your army ready" Pryor called out to him.
The little man continued his nervous ministrations, doing his best to keep his distance from Pryor.
"I'm not sure. Come back tomorrow. Tell Edwards I'll have a better idea in the morning."
Edwards?! What did he have to do with all of this? Pryor strode over to the little man and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him off the floor. The man squealed and thrashed about, trying to break free. Pryor stuck his face close to his.
"What else should I tell Edwards?"
"Let me down, let me down! I have to monitor the lycan drip, too much and you'll be unable to control them, not enough and they won't turn when the moon rises!"
Pryor's mouth dropped open. When they turn? He dropped the little man and walked slowly towards one of the bodies, hesitating slightly before pulling the sheet away. Once again he studied what was lying before him. He started to speak softly and slowly.
"Do you mean to tell me these men will turn in werewolves when the moon is full?"
The little man looked down at the ground.
"Yes, yes. The moon will be full in two nights. Edwards wanted them ready by then."
Pryor shook his head. How could anyone control an army of lycans? What was Edwards thinking?
He sat down next to the body.
"Have you tried it before? How do you know it will work?"
The little man shuffled closer to Pryor. He kept his voice low.
"I've had success with one or two reanimations. As soon as the moon rises they change, and that combined with their military training makes them easy to control. The trick is to make sure they've completely changed into a wolf. They follow a pack mentality then. They'll follow the alpha male."
"And how do they determine the alpha male?"
"They fight for it. They fight to see who's the most dominate."
Pryor thought for a minute. Two days. Could he afford to wait for two more days? He needed to get back to the base to destroy the evidence, but if he had an army with him he could do more than that. He needed a way to get a false report of his death out. And then what? How would he control them? How would he keep Edwards at bay? He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocked and began to illustrate a map. He finished, then ripped his dog tag from his neck. He held it out to the little man.
"You need to take this to Edwards. Tell him I'm one of the bodies here."
The little man took the dog tags. He shook his head.
"Edwards will never believe me. He'll want proof. He'll want to see a body."
Pryor smiled and rolled up his sleeve.
"Then let him see one. Hook me up to one of those machines. Turn me. I'll be the alpha male."
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Full Wolf Moon-Part Three
Pryor surveyed the room. Bright light illuminated a legion of bodies neatly placed in rows, long tubes dangling from the ceiling into each one. A loud hum roared around them. Giant fans blew cold air, keeping the temperature in the room thirty degrees cooler than the temperature outside. The stiffs over his shoulders were getting heavy. Pryor let them slump onto the ground. The little man started dancing around like an excited child, giddy at the sight of Christmas presents. He started talking to himself as he examined the two new recruits.
"Yes,yes, perfect, perfect. Number two hundred ninety nine and number three hundred! Yes, Yes! I have my army! My three hundred! Yes, yes, yes!"
He started to drag one of the bodies towards an empty slab but it proved to be too heavy. He cast a beseeching look towards Pryor.
"Help me soldier man? Is too heavy for me. Help me complete my army?"
Pryor stared at the little man. Army? What kind of madness was this? He picked up the bodies and followed the little man down to a slab. The little man jumped on top of the first and began to cut up the sleeve of his uniform, exposing his arm. He began to hum a little hum as he inserted a needle into the man's vein, then hopped off and retrieved a set of wires, which he placed gently on various points across his skull. Pryor moved closer to the tube and watched a clear liquid begin to course into the dead man's body.
"What are you doing? What is all this?"
The little man smiled and began his ministrations on the second body. "My army, solider man. My three hundred. And like King Leonidas I shall be invincible! I will be able to vanquish my enemies!"
Pryor bent down closer to the man, grabbed him by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. The little man held Pryor's gaze without flinching. Crazy. Totally bat shit crazy. Pryor began to speak very slowly and softly.
"These men are all dead. How can you have an army of the dead?"
An enormous Cheshire Cat grin enveloped the little man's face. He answered equally slow and soft.
"I know they're dead. That's what makes them invincible. Well, that and the Lycan blood."
"The Lycan blood?"
'Yes, yes, Lycan blood. How else can they be invincible? Even the walking dead can be destroyed by a blow to the head, but if they're reanimated with Lycan blood, they're invincible!!'''
Pryor expected him to throw back his head and release a maniacal laugh, but he merely went about his business, attaching wires and making sure the flow in the tubes was at a consistent rate. Pryor looked at all the bodies lying upon their biers.
"Are all these men soldiers?"
The little man stopped what he as doing and looked at Pryor as if he were an idiot.
"Well of course they are. You wouldn't create an army out of street cleaners, would you?"
He went about his business, muttering to himself about the stupidity of some people.
Pryor chuckled to himself. An army of the undead. An INVINCIBLE army of the undead. This could prove very useful to him. He sauntered over to the other side of the room where the little man was engrossed in the final preparations of his labor.
"You know friend, Leonidas and The Three Hundred were slaughtered at the battle of Theormopylae. Xerxes and the Persian forces destroyed them."
The little man violently turned towards Pryor, fear and anger clouding his face.
"Only because they were betrayed! Only because Ephialtes told the Persians about the goat path! Only because he betrayed noble Leonidas!" The little man's eyes narrowed "Do you plan to betray me soldier man?"
Once again Pryor knelt down next to the little man, gently placing his hand on the other man's shoulder.
"No my friend. I plan on leading your army to glorious victory,"
"Yes,yes, perfect, perfect. Number two hundred ninety nine and number three hundred! Yes, Yes! I have my army! My three hundred! Yes, yes, yes!"
He started to drag one of the bodies towards an empty slab but it proved to be too heavy. He cast a beseeching look towards Pryor.
"Help me soldier man? Is too heavy for me. Help me complete my army?"
Pryor stared at the little man. Army? What kind of madness was this? He picked up the bodies and followed the little man down to a slab. The little man jumped on top of the first and began to cut up the sleeve of his uniform, exposing his arm. He began to hum a little hum as he inserted a needle into the man's vein, then hopped off and retrieved a set of wires, which he placed gently on various points across his skull. Pryor moved closer to the tube and watched a clear liquid begin to course into the dead man's body.
"What are you doing? What is all this?"
The little man smiled and began his ministrations on the second body. "My army, solider man. My three hundred. And like King Leonidas I shall be invincible! I will be able to vanquish my enemies!"
Pryor bent down closer to the man, grabbed him by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. The little man held Pryor's gaze without flinching. Crazy. Totally bat shit crazy. Pryor began to speak very slowly and softly.
"These men are all dead. How can you have an army of the dead?"
An enormous Cheshire Cat grin enveloped the little man's face. He answered equally slow and soft.
"I know they're dead. That's what makes them invincible. Well, that and the Lycan blood."
"The Lycan blood?"
'Yes, yes, Lycan blood. How else can they be invincible? Even the walking dead can be destroyed by a blow to the head, but if they're reanimated with Lycan blood, they're invincible!!'''
Pryor expected him to throw back his head and release a maniacal laugh, but he merely went about his business, attaching wires and making sure the flow in the tubes was at a consistent rate. Pryor looked at all the bodies lying upon their biers.
"Are all these men soldiers?"
The little man stopped what he as doing and looked at Pryor as if he were an idiot.
"Well of course they are. You wouldn't create an army out of street cleaners, would you?"
He went about his business, muttering to himself about the stupidity of some people.
Pryor chuckled to himself. An army of the undead. An INVINCIBLE army of the undead. This could prove very useful to him. He sauntered over to the other side of the room where the little man was engrossed in the final preparations of his labor.
"You know friend, Leonidas and The Three Hundred were slaughtered at the battle of Theormopylae. Xerxes and the Persian forces destroyed them."
The little man violently turned towards Pryor, fear and anger clouding his face.
"Only because they were betrayed! Only because Ephialtes told the Persians about the goat path! Only because he betrayed noble Leonidas!" The little man's eyes narrowed "Do you plan to betray me soldier man?"
Once again Pryor knelt down next to the little man, gently placing his hand on the other man's shoulder.
"No my friend. I plan on leading your army to glorious victory,"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)