Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 14

Site Kilo-29
Military Area - Primary Motorpool
Winter, 1993
Day Two-Afternoon

As Donaldson and Kincaid moved up to me I began turning over the dogtags in my hand, looking at each one. None of them were from the same person, and one of them had BC CCCP on it along with some numbers rather than name, SSN, blood type and religious preference. I dropped that one in my front pocket and tucked the rest in my BDU top, under my Kevlar vest, as the other two men came up.

"You all right, Sergeant?" Donaldson asked.

"Looks clear." Kincaid said, stepping up near the body of the thing that had attacked me, keeping his weapon at high ready while he scanned the brightly lit motorpool.

"I'm fine. It didn't lay a finger on me." I told him, rolling my shoulders to settle my vest and equipment better. Donaldson nodded and moved away while I turned back and threw the last power switch.

"It's human." Donaldson said.

"Huh?" I wasn't thinking too clearly. My head was pounding and the Fates were screaming at me.

"It doesn't look like it at first, but it's human." Donaldson repeated. I turned around and he was down on one knee, looking at the corpse. "I think these are BDUs."

I moved up next to him and looked, kneeling down to look at the blood slimed teeth while Donaldson pulled out his canteen. They were small, triangular, and irregularly spaced.

"When I was a kid, I read that cannibals in the South Pacific used to do that." Donaldson told me. I just nodded.

...Gaping open jaws, full of broken and jagged teeth that were too long for the mouth. White skin, with the edges of the mouth pulled up in a horrific grin...

He began dribbling water on a strip of what I had mistaken for peeling and blackened flesh. The water was reddish black as it poured off and through the cloth.

"Yup, BDU's." He told me.

...Grimy, dirty, tattered BDU's, covered with frozen mud and a rind of frost...

"Good eye, Private." I stood back up and waved Kincaid over.

"You two find a tarp in the back of one of the five tons and cover him up." I told them. They both nodded and headed for the row of cargo trucks that stood only about 20 feet from us. As soon as they had their back to me I opened the pocket at the back of my gas mask carrier and pulled out a box. In addition to decon wipes I kept test strips inside, and I pulled out a packet, broke the seal, then wiped the test strip I pulled out on the body before replacing everything but the test strip.

When the two other men returned with the tarp the strip was still inconclusive. I wadded it up and dropped it.

"Let's go see the Major." I told them. They both nodded and followed me, Donaldson sitting bitch again on top of the metal box I'd had welded in between the two bucket seats. I backed up the Gypsy Wagon then pulled into the aisle the two Privates had driven the Humvee down. Going slow reminded me of just how big the cavernous motorpool was, with rank after rank of vehicles in cold storage. Wheeled vehicles with the tires removed hanging from cables to prevent wear on the suspensions, tracked vehicles with the tracks hanging loosely to prevent tension fatigue, all of them cold and silent without a single identifying mark on them. No bumper number, no unit designation, just row after row of painted cold steel covered by dust.

...they left us in the dark and cold...

The Major was standing next to his Humvee, watching the Privates who were drawn up in a couple of small groups, standing under lights, smoking cigarettes and talking to each other. I hit the switch to flip to blackout drive so I didn't blind him, and drove the rest of the way up to him.

One of the Suits was talking to him by the time we got up to where he was at.

"Leave your weapons." I warned. They both nodded, putting their weapons on the floor boards instead of securing them with the handles that had been provided to hold M-16's. I'd never seen anyone actually use them.

When the Major turned and saw me his eyes widened and he took a step back.

"Sergeant Ant, how bad are you wounded?" He asked.

"Most of it isn't mine." I told him, shaking my head.

"Sergeant Ant killed the animal that attacked him." Kincaid didn't exactly lie.

"What happened to your eye, Sergeant?" The Major asked.

Oh, yeah, my eyepatch was still around my neck. He could see the dead eye, the way the whites were bloodshot and it looked more like a demonic eye than a human.

"Old head injury." I explained, pulling the eyepatch back into place under my glasses. He nodded and let it drop.

"So what's your plan now, Ant?" The Suit sneered.

...he can't tie you to a chair if you kill him first...

...I know, Nancy...

"You shut the fuck up." I snarled, taking a step toward him. Donaldson grabbed my arm and shook his head. I took a deep breath and stepped back, returning my attention to the Major.

"To repeat the Special Agent's question, what now?" The Major asked. He had a look like he expected me to go after him.

"The two Privates and me will go check out the living quarters. Have your men park their vehicles and form up at the back of the motorpool." I suggested. "Have them draw weapons and live ammunition in case any of those animals come back."

"We didn't bring weapons or ammunition." The Major told me. "I was told that this was a simple case of assessment, inventory, and drawdown."

shit

"I highly doubt that some animal is going to attack a whole group of soldiers." The Suit sneered.

"I told you to shut the fuck up. I ain't telling you again." I told him between gritted teeth.

"Still, I'll have my men park the vehicles in the first two rows, then we'll wait at the rear of this motorpool." The Major said thoughtfully. "I'll have them go ahead and have some chow."

"Good plan, sir." I said, nodding.

"You and your two Privates see if the living quarters are up to hosting us, and find the safest route for my men to get there." He continued.

"Yes, sir." I said, keeping my face neutral.

"Make it happen, Sergeant." He told me. I nodded again, snapped off a parade ground salute, then turned back to my two Privates.

"Let's go, gentlemen, we've got out mission." They nodded and followed when we went back to the Gypsy Wagon, climbing back inside. We turned around as the Major began waving his men over, presumably to get them to line up the vehicles dress right dress on the ready lines.

"Sergeant Ant, can I ask you a serious question?" Kincaid was staring at the motorpool as we idled toward the back wall.

"Go ahead, troop." I fished out my smokes and offered them.

Neither one of them took them.

...goddamn New Army...

"Can we trust you?" He looked like someone had just handed him a live grenade.

"Yes." I told him. "I won't abandon you, I won't waste your lives needlessly, and I won't tell you to do something and then leave you hanging." I glanced over and both of the Privates were nodding.

"Where did you learn to knife fight like that?" Kincaid asked.

"The Army." I answered, lighting the cigarette.

"Not in any Army I'm in." Kincaid mumbled.

...all right, boys and girls, a knife is a weapon of choice. In the right hands it is deadly, in the wrong hands or in untrained hands it is more of a threat to the wielder than the opponent..

...young boys and girls watching the tall heavily built man in a military uniform standing in front of them, love and trust on their faces...

"Why didn't you say anything about the Major just taking your plan?" Donaldson asked.

The blackout drive lights were dim, barely lighting the flanks of the vehicles on either side of the aisle and the cement in front of us.

"It's called saving face." I told him. He nodded, and I dropped it.

"How bad was the head injury?" Kincaid asked.

"I almost died." I told him.

...Ant, honey, I think you're blind...

"Oh." He was silent for a few moments.

"I take pills to control migraine headaches." I told them. It was only half the truth, but all they needed to know. "Extreme stress or anger gives me a migraine headache, if they get bad enough I'll go blind for a short period of time."

The far wall was coming into view, along with the massive door that was at least 15 feet high and twenty feet wide. Above it was the legend "PRIMARY MOTORPOOL MAINTENANCE" in red letters.

"I also take medication to keep me from dreaming, and even then I only sleep for a few hours every day or so." I half lied.

...If you tell them your weakness, they'll use it to kill you. Nancy told me from the back seat, where she sat with all my extra gear...

I ignored her, and she sat there silently, watching me.

The Humvee slowed down and I killed the engine, getting out.

"Time to load up." I smiled, getting out. We went around to the back end, and I dropped the tailgate, the bulletholes on both sides of the metal. I grabbed a metal ammo can and opened it up, pulling out the foam that Heather had shaped by hand, and opening that. Inside the foam was nestled two pistols, an old M1911A1 that I'd stolen when the unit had been deactivated (like a lot of people had) and a Glock 17L that Dana had bought me for my birthday but ended up giving me right before I left for the then un-named Desert Shield weeks before my birthday.

The other two men were silent while I drug out holsters and magazine pouches already filled with loaded magazines. The Glock replaced the knife at the small of my back, and the .45 went on my hip. I dropped one of my canteens to put the magazine pouches on my LBE and shifted my gas mask carried to make room.

When I cracked open another box and started breaking open the cardboard tubes Kincaid whistled. I handed them each two CS grenades and a pair of flashbangs. "Put these in a cargo pocket." Both men nodded.

I climbed out of the back of the truck and slammed the tailgate, moving over to the smaller door next to the big heavy door. As soon as I punched in the code and threw the lever the other two men moved over next to me, Kincaid buttoning his pocket.

"We'll cut through Maintenance, then check the Living Quarters to make sure that we have a place to stay." I told them. The door was still quivering, but the pistons hadn't worked up the pressure to move it. "After that we'll check the mess storage and see about some hot food." I grinned at them. "And after that, we'll check the TV station and see if we can find some good stuff to put on so we can do more than stare at each other."

"A TV station? Seriously?" Donaldson looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"As a heart attack." I grinned at him.

"Door's opening." Kincaid told me.

I glanced back and saw Dana leaning against the back of the Gypsy Wagon, blowing a bubble she'd somehow coaxed out the shitty MRE gum. I turned back to the door and hoped she'd go away.

The airlock section on the other side was dry as a bone, and it only took us a minute to get out the next door. Having the correct codes for fast entries really helped.

The Maintenance section was massive, eight different hydraulic lifts over pits big enough to lift a semi and powerful enough to life a tank, tool racks, benches, and stand up tool boxes on the far wall. The left wall had two doors, one stating it was the Tool & Parts Room, the other proclaiming itself to be "POL", where the mechanics would have stored grease and oil. The right wall had a single door marked "Locker Room" and little else except for manuals held together by a single ring hanging from hooks. There had to be at least a hundred of them, all of them technical manuals.

You could train an entire company of mechanics to fix every vehicle in the motor pool with the books and tools in the room.

Bomber was sitting on one of the middle benches, playing with a socket wrench by holding the socket and twirling the wrench, grinning at me and dressed in desert BDU's.

...Go away, you're stationed at Fort Hood...

I turned away and walked to the locker room door.

"I hate this place." Kincaid muttered.

"So do I." I answered. Donaldson nodded.

We threw the lever and waited for the door to open, then passed through the air lock and stopped at the edge of the locker room.

Bathrooms on the left, showers on the right, banks of lockers in front of us.

And only two lights out of the eight that came on that stayed lit instead of exploding in a shower of sparks.

In the darkness, there was the 'bong' of metal popping after weight was lifted off of it.

"Night vision." Kincaid said.

"Call it out." I told him, cursing that I'd left mine in the Gypsy Wagon. Way to go, Fearless Leader.

There was another bong, and suddenly Kincaid yanked his weapon around to the left and started squeezing the trigger, pulling off five shots in half as many seconds.

Something snarled and there was the skittering of claws on tile.

"Think I got him." Kincaid said, going back to scanning the room.

"Donaldson, flashbang." I said, pointing over the lockers to the other side of the room. He nodded and pulled one out of his pocket, the canister held tightly in his hand when he brought it up to chest level, one finger in the ring.

"Now." I said conversationally. It's never a good idea to startle someone holding a live grenade.

Something screamed and there was a clatter from deeper in the room.

Donaldson yanked the pin out with his left hand and threw the grenade in a flat arc over the lockers. All three of us turned away and I know I squeezed my eyes shut. It went off with a loud crack that made our ears ring, but the rows of lockers shielded us from the worst of it.

"Let's go kill it." I said. The other two men nodded, both hefting their rifles.

I kept scanning each aisle between the lockers, and I counted three before I held up my hand to stop the two Privates.

On the floor was a dented grate, and above it was a dark hole in the ceiling where whatever it was had escaped.

"Dammit." Kincaid growled.

"If you wounded it bad enough, it'll just lair up and die." I offered.

"Except it knew what a flashbang was." Kincaid said.

"Maybe, maybe not." I told him.

On the far wall was another couple doors. One read "MOTORPOOL OPERATIONS" and was bordered by white with red stripes every 2 feet at a 45 degree angle, another read "LIVING QUARTERS" and was surrounded by blue with red stripes, the third read "PRIMARY MAINTENANCE" and was red with orange, while the last read "MAINTENANCE SUPPLY" and was orange with red stripes around it.

"Let's check out our new barracks." I said, throwing the lever.

Kincaid went down on one knee, watching when the door started to rise.

"Got IR beams." He warned.

The door rose up slowly, until it locked into position, and Kincaid stood up, stripping off the NVG's as the lights on the hallway in front of us came on.

"The beams shut off when the door locked." He told me.

I nodded absently, looking at the hallway. It was brushed steel on the sides, tiled on the floor, with a suspended ceiling. I could see picture frames on the sides, even if I couldn't see what the pictures were.

"Onward and inward." I said, leading the way.

The first picture was a fairly standard one of a lake surrounded by forest. The clear blue sky was blameless and the water looked so good it made you want to go swimming. Opposite was a forest scene with sunlight streaming down. The second set of pictures were of the Rocky Mountains, showing them in all of their rugged beauty.

At the third picture on the right I stopped dead and stared. The temperature in the hallway plummeted. My nose and my missing earlobes started to ache.

"Sergeant?" Kincaid's voice sounded worried. My shoulder gave a throb of agony, like an icicle piercing it through and through.

...Ant, I love you!...

...I'm gonna die, aren't I, brother?...

...US RANGERS, WE'RE HERE TO GET YOU OUT!...

...YOU FUCKING TRAITORS!...

...it's the only way I'm going to survive to have this baby, isn't it?...

...Ah ain't ah tellin' yah nuthin...

...hold me, Ant, I'm going into shock...

The 2/19th barracks, with a foot of snow covering the lawns, sat in the picture.

I started to shake.