Jethro Goes to War (Wandering Engineer Jethro's tale) (71 page)

"Anything in
here? Ollie Ollie in free..." a voice said. They turned to see
the boss man and a pair of his crew coming down the hall. "Nothing
big here, there could be something in the walls." He looked over
to the pile of excrement under the skylight. A bit dripped down. He
frowned. "Fresh. That’s not a good sign. Mind the holes."

"Yeah boss we
know," Bobby said nodding and watching the holes warily.
"Kitchen clear?"

"So far,"
Shane said, shaking his head. He moved off to check the garage.

"Who was that?"
Chuck asked, nodding his chin to the military guy walking off. The
guy looked like a walking fortress, body armor on his chest, arms,
and shins, pouches of stuff everywhere and holding some sort of
rifle. He had a shoulder harness with a big ass knife and a pair of
nine mils under each armpit. Suddenly he felt very exposed just
wearing sneakers, jeans and a T-shirt.

Bobby turned to him
in surprise, eyes wide. "Shoot, you don't know the boss when you
see him?"

"I do now,
Thanks for pointing him out to me," Chuck said wryly. "So
he's the boss?"

"Boss's boss.
High mucky muck. He's the guy in charge of the whole shebang baby.
Mall, everyone.
The
O'Neill."

"Oh?"
Chuck asked, checking his gear. He had a bunch of shopping bags, the
cloth reusable ones, and a baseball bat. He wasn't sure why they gave
him the bat.

"Yeah man, he's
the boss. Chief Indian, whatever you want to call it."

"Why is he
rubbing elbows with us grunts?"

"Cause he's a
grunt at heart," Bobby said. He pointed to the kitchen. "The
guy's a shooter, and damn good at it," he said, looking at
Chuck. Chuckles was a born schemer, he could tell, he could see it in
his eyes, the way they darted around, checking all the angles. The
way he was constantly asking about the black market. He'd have to set
this one straight if life or the job didn't do it for him. "Let's
go see if they cleared the kitchen."

In the garage Shane
was finished carefully checking things over. Frank had just opened
the garage door by hand, pulling the emergency disconnect from the
now dead motor and then opening it up. A crew that had just finished
cleaning out a neighboring house waved and started forward. "They
finish clearing the kitchen?" Shane asked, turning away from the
crew ripping out the hot water tank and furnace. Another crew was
wheeling the washer and dryer out to the waiting trucks. Duct men
were pulling pieces down and tossing them out the door.

"Some of it.
Heard a noise and..."

"We've got
harvesters inside and no one bothered to check?" Shane said
spinning in place grabbing the door handle. Right on cue he heard a
scrabble and scream. "Shit!" he said wrenching the door
open.

"Like taking
candy from a baby," Chuck said opening the first door. Chuck had
just opened the pantry; he didn't see what the big deal was when he
caught a flash of gold eyes and white fangs. Instinctively his right
arm went up as the thing lunged for his throat.

Bobby turned just as
Chuck opened the pantry and felt himself bodily slammed to the ground
as two hundred pounds of human and a hundred or so pounds of angry
Gremlin slammed into him. "Jack in the box!" He managed to
yell, trying to roll out from under the struggling Chuck.

For Chuck it was a
nightmare of purple and yellow flesh, glowing alien cat eyes and
flashing teeth and claws. Distantly he heard screaming, some corner
of his mind realized it was him. Chuck was fighting for his life and
losing as the thing bit into his arm with a mouth full of shark like
teeth. It was incredibly strong, strong as an ape someone had said.
He hadn't believed it until now. Three finger claws ripped and tore
at his arm as the thing thrashed its head from side to side making a
growling noise. He felt its three toed clawed feet digging into his
stomach. He knew he was in deep shit.

Shane swept the
scene with a glance, dropped his rifle down and reversed it. He
couldn't shoot with the others there; they were a tangled mess of
flesh. Instead he used the rifle butt as a club and swung up. "Fore!"
he yelled, just as the Gremlin spat the guy's mangled arm out to look
up.

The Gremlin caught
the blow right on the chin, sending it flying. Despite the impact it
managed to recover itself mid flight to land on the chandelier. It
swung from it like a monkey as Shane stepped to one side and reversed
his rifle once more.

The Gremlin snarled,
human blood dripping from its maw as it locked its four eyes with
Shane. One arm dangled like some alien chimp. Blood and bits of torn
flesh dripped from the extended claws. It reached up and picked at
its teeth, flicking a piece of flesh out towards him. Cheeky bastard.

"That's right
you little bastard. Look at me," Shane said softly, moving
further to the side. Bobby looked up, trying to crane his neck to see
the thing. "You two hold on, just put pressure on the wounds,"
Shane said, eyes on the target.

"I got this one
boss," Frank said from the doorway. The Gremlin looked his way
and snarled, crests flaring. A shotgun blast tore it from the
chandelier, blasting the thing in a shower of pellets and broken
glass onto the table. The dining room table was also glass; it
shattered but the torn table cloth folded around the alien, wrapping
it in a pouch.

It snarled, ripping
at the improvised sack, seriously pissed but not really injured.
Frank chambered another round just as Fred and Bert moved in from the
living room door and started blasting. The Gremlin squealed as it
took hit after hit. Bert was fielding a modified .44 magnum; he went
through all six rounds, making each count.

When blue blood
spurted out and dribbled in a puddle the two stopped and watched
warily. The fabric seemed to settle and then go slack as its
prisoner's life blood drained away. Still, they were careful to poke
it at arm’s length before spearing it a few times to be sure.
The things could regenerate given enough time and blood. Just to be
sure Bert pulled his katana and lopped its head off.

This one didn't look
more than a week or three old, despite being the size of a chimp.
"Medic!" Bert said, catching sight of Chuck on the floor.
"Oh man," he said, covering his mouth and looking away. He
really really didn't want to lose his breakfast again.

"Shit man,"
Bobby said, ripping off his plaid over shirt to wrap around the torn
arm. Shane moved in warily, checking the area and then kneeling and
pulling open a pouch. "Here," he said handing a pair of
tampons to Bobby.

"What the hell
man? What am I supposed to do with this?" Bobby demanded, eyes
wide.

"Put them over
the wounds. Use the wings to keep them in place and apply pressure to
stop the bleeding," Shane explained, putting words to action
with the one in his hand. He hissed at the sight of the belly wound.
Not good. Definitely not good. He looked up as Frank came up and
raised his rifle to the covered window. He broke out the window glass
and then pointed it to the sky light.

"Put that thing
down Frank," Shane said.

"But..."

"Save your
ammo, you'll need it," Shane said looking to the left. Ammo was
as precious as food these days. There were fewer and fewer amounts of
either to live off of every day. It wasn't like the trucks were
rolling anymore; farms were wastelands of alien plants and crap. He
wrinkled his nose and looked to the door. Still no medic. He keyed
his mike. "We need a medic at my location ASAP. Wounded arm,
chest and abdomen, bad."

"Roger,"
was the only reply.

"What the hell
do we do about that then?" Frank asked looking at the light. The
alien predators hated daylight, which was why they hid in the dark
during the day. It was also why the smarter ones covered the windows
and sky lights with their own crap.

There was so much
crap that there had to be more than one creature here. Where there
was one Gremlin there was more than likely a pack of Creeplings in a
harem close by. Either in the walls, under a bed or in the attic.
They'd have to check. And damn it check more carefully.

"Tater!"
Shane said looking up and yelling.

The call was
repeated by the door warden then by someone outside. After a long
moment the hefty guy came in holding his home made potato gun. "Yo
man, you called?" he said. He caught sight of Chuck and
grimaced. "Shit man, sorry," he said looking away.

"Get to work,
knock out some windows and shine some light," Shane said gruffly
as the medics finally arrived and pushed him aside. He got to his
feet as they swung into frantic action. He was afraid they may be too
late.

"Light!"
the first medic said, yelling. "Someone get the ambulance over
here stat!" he said. Tater wrinkled his nose, raised his potato
gun and shot out the skylight. They winced as glass and plastic mixed
with crap rained down. "Don't anyone get that shit on you, or
let the glass cut you. Instant infection," the medic said,
hooking up an IV. He handed the bag to Bobby. "Hold this up and
squeeze."

"Roger,"
he said doing so.

"Who did the
tourniquet?" the medic asked. He snorted at the sight of the
tampon field dressings. He'd seen more and more of them over the past
couple of months.

"I did, its
okay right?" Bobby asked, sounding concerned. He absently wiped
his bloody hands on his pants.

"Next time use
a piece of rubber or a belt," the medic said hands flashing as
he tried to save Chuck's life.

"Will I keep
the arm doc?" Chuck asked weakly. He coughed.

"I dunno son,
right now we're trying to keep you from bleeding out. Do me a favor
and stay awake. I haven't lost anyone in six days and I'm shooting
for the record."

"You're all
heart," Frank said shaking his head. He winced as Tater shot out
another skylight in a bathroom. "I think I'll go help, you know
smash some windows. I need to go break something."

"Mind the
glass," the medic said not bothering to look up. He used a clamp
to clamp a spurting blood vessel when he uncovered the tampon. He
reached over and pulled another one off his sleeve to clamp another
wound.

"Frank, Bert,
guys, watch out for creeplings," Shane said. Frank nodded. Jody
warily looked at the scene around Chuck and shook her head. Warily
she checked the fridge, and then slammed the door shut after a quick
peek. Nothing worth it in there after months without power. She moved
on to other areas.

"Think there is
more?"

"Where there is
a Gremlin there is a harem of creeplings," Shane said.

Bobby spat out
something and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. He looked
around. "I uh, gotta um..."

"Got to get
back to work, I know," Shane said. "Jack in the box.
Nasty," he said, adrenaline ebbing as his military training
kicked in. It would be time for the shakes later. He looked in the
pantry. "Hell of a way to do our food shopping," he said
shaking his head as Bobby checked the closet warily and then started
pulling boxes of hamburger helper and pasta out and bagging it. His
hand brushed clotted blood on the boxes and against the door, he
ignored it. He brushed aside the remains of a cat and kept working.

"You know it,"
Bobby said shaking. "Welcome to the world we live in." He
looked up as they heard a thunderous roar down the Street and then
the pock pock of weapons firing.

"Great,"
Shane said. "Hellcat, just what we
don't
need."

"Or a pack of
them boss," Frank said coming up behind him. Apparently he was
finished with the glass. "Want us to back them up?"

"We're not
finished here, and they didn't call for back up," Shane said
shaking his head. "I want the creeplings found and put out of
our misery.
Now
."

"Yeah boss,"
Frank said as the medics lifted Chuck up onto a stretcher and
strapped him down. He waved to the door warden. "Block the door
open and get the hell out of their way. MOVE!"

"Hell of a
thing," Shane said shaking his head. He nodded to Frank and the
others milling about. "Get a scope. Find these damn things and
kill them."

"You got it
boss," Frank said moving off. He knew Hadji's team was going to
catch hell over this. Jack in the box. Casualty. Definitely. He set
his jaw and then refocused on the now. Typical rookie mistake, one
that only a few survived and learned from.