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

Part 54

Site Kilo-29
Winter-1993
Exterior
Day Seven - Morning

Tandy screamed, a sound I'd never heard before, as he suddenly exploded in flames. His uniform flashed into ashes, leaving him naked beneath the yellowish-white flames. He pubic hair and the hair on his head exploded and was gone, and his skin began peeling away.

The sound of Tandy's scream drove me to my knees, holding my head, as he began to dance and caper, jerking toward us, his steps jerky and staggering as he moved toward us.

He threw himself into the snow, still shrieking, but the fire got more intense, roaring from his body. He rolled around, still screaming, and I leaned forward and threw up as my skull vibrated in harmony with the scream. The screams got louder, more screams joining in. I could hear Kebble, Oakes, Shads, and others in there. Voices from 2/19th I heard shrieking in agony as Tandy had drug them off into the snow.

I struggled to get to my feet, and Donaldson was there, hauling me up by my LBE. He was looking into the tunnel.

"Kincaid?" he called out.

"What the fuck?" I stared at Tandy, who was getting to his feet.

The snow wasn't melting, wasn't steaming, and Tandy's frantic motions were only kicking up the powdery snow that blanketed the ground. Tandy staggered toward us, his right hand reaching out toward us, and I could see the bones appear as the flesh blackened and fell away.

"Kincaid..." Tandy croaked. I remembered the voice that came from his jagged mouth, remembered hearing it laughing at a shitty joke the last time I'd seen him.

His own voice.

Two more steps and Tandy just... dissolved.

One second he was there, screaming in the voices of his victims, wreathed in fire that was actually burning him, actually affecting him, and then he just exploded in our faces.

The snow pelted us, stinging my skin as it washed over me. I felt it sizzle against my skin as the wind changed from burning hot to ice cold as the shock from Tandy exploding into snow washed over us.

I fell back into the snow, landing on my back, and my helmet fell off.

The sky was invisible, hidden by snow and clouds, but I could feel the starlight through the clouds.

Something ran down the back of my head and neck, and my vision tunneled down.

She stepped out of the snow.

She was as beautiful as I remembered, her mocha skin unblemished by cold or warfare, her long curly hair a deep auburn, and her green eyes joining with her hair to silently attest to her Irish heritage. Her mouth was a perfect red bow, outlined in darker red from the lip liner she used. Earrings, tiny chips of diamond that I'd bought her at a German jewelry store in Stuttgart, winked in her earlobes that she still had. She was wearing her favorite white dress, with the thin crimson lines at the edges, with matching white shoes that had small cherry bows at the top. Her face was perfect, more perfect than I remembered it, and she was smiling gently as she came out of the snow and knelt down next to me.

"Sergeant, can you hear me?" Donaldson asked, his voice was receding.

"You..." I whispered, holding up my hand to her. The tape was still wrapped around my fingers, keeping the knife in place.

I expected her to flinch back from the knife, like she'd always done. She'd hated my knives, and I wasn't allowed to have them in our small apartment that we'd rented off post. She didn't like me wearing them in my boot, at the small of my back, on my belt, on my LBE, or anywhere.

Instead she wrapped her hands around my wrist, pulling my arm slightly toward her, the back of my hand touching her cheek. I could feel her warmth through the tape I'd wrapped around my hand.

"Sergeant?" Donaldson's voice out of the warmth of the snow, still far away and receding even further. "Damn it. Keep the door open, keep watch on it, I gotta check Sergeant Ant."

"Fifty." She said, holding my hand tightly against her face. The turned my wrist gently and lowered my hand, down past her breasts.

"Why? Let's get out of here." Another voice bubbled up from the distance, one I kind of recognized, but it didn't matter. "Why watch the doors, that psycho is gone."

...I missed her so much...

She brought my hand down to her gently rounded belly, where the baby moved sleepily.

"Do what I fucking say." Donaldson's voice cracked with the tone of command that made me jerk even thought I could barely hear him.

"Yes, Corporal." The other man replied, spinal reflex hammered into him during Basic Training and the constant discipline since them.

"Fifty, don't let go." She said, cupping the side of my face. "Let go of the two of us, other people still need you."

"I don't matter." I told her. I was aware I was crying ,the tears running down my temples. Another drop running down the back of my head and down my neck.

"Yes, you do, Sergeant. We still need you." Donaldson told me, his voice was closer. I felt his hand on my chest, grabbing my hand that she wasn't holding and bringing it up to my chest.

"Yes, you do, Fifty." She told me. "You can't change what happened to us, any more than I change whats happened to you."

"Corporal, there's something going on with the lights." The guy yelled.

"Keep an eye out." Donaldson said, I could hear him a little better, but I tried to ignore him, trying to concentrate on her. "Little busy here."

She cupped her hand on top of mine, squeezing gently as I felt the baby roll again. "Nancy, Bomber, and Catherine love you, Fifty, that's why you need to remember what they told you."

"You died in a car wreck." I wept.

"Remember it like that, honey." She said. She set my hand on my chest. "You need to hold Martin, he's scared for you."

"That's right, Sergeant, she died in a car wreck, there was nothing you could have done." Donaldson said. His voice was getting nearer, no longer coming from far away.

"Don't leave me. I'll hold Martin, but please don't leave me." I cried. My hands still sought out Martin, who was suddenly in my hands. I cuddled him to my chest with my left hand, careful not to stab myself with the knife still taped into my right hand.

"Fifty, we're dead." She reminded me. "We can't stay with you, and you need to let us go. Heather needs you now, the others need you now, you can't come with us."

"Stay with me, Sergeant." Donaldson's voice was closer now. "Hold only Martin, Sergeant, I'll move you as soon as I can." I felt the tape start to unwind from my hand. "Give me the knife, Sergeant."

"Let us go, Fifty." She told me, standing up. The snow swirled around her, the dark closing in.

"Let go." I said softly.

"Sergeant, trust me, give me the knife. I've almost got it free." Donaldson said. Martin was alternating between pulling on my thumb frantically and hugging my thumb tightly.

"They need you, Fifty." She told me. She was barely visible. "Don't leave them, you can save them, even though you couldn't save us."

"Your wife and daughter need you now, Sergeant Ant." Donaldson said, the knife was gone from my hand. "We're almost out of here."

"Listen to him, Fifty." She said. She was almost gone.

"Don't leave me." I said, grabbing a of Martin with my right hand too. "Please."

"Sergeant, get up, I need you to get up." Donaldson said.

She was gone, and I could see Donaldson leaning over me.

I blinked and licked my lips. "Help me up. Get me to my goddamn feet." I held left hand up, my right hand still holding tight to Martin.

"You with me, Sergeant?" Donaldson asked.

"I'm with you, Dee." I said. He nodded, taking my left hand and pulling me up in one smooth motion as he got to his feet.

"Donaldson, something's coming!" Mellins shouted.

"Ready for round two?" Donaldson asked me. He let go of my hand and pressed the back of his bare hand to my forehead. "Shit, you're burning up. Well, it can't be helped."

"Ready, baby. I'm with you." I growled, shaking my head.

I followed Donaldson through the snow, toward where Tandy had been waiting for us. The tunnel was brightly lit, the bank of lights beyond the decon area shining brightly, and the lights underneath the ice throwing pale yellow light.

Something was lurching toward us. It was big, whatever it was, twisted strangely. One arm was too long, dragging on the ground, and something in the hand at the end of the freakishly long arm was showering sparks behind it. The head was misshapen, its face a black oval in the bright light, and its legs didn't work right.

The pistol came out from the holster and I lifted it up, sighting on the lurching figure backlit by the buzzing flickering lights from the tunnel.

"Fuck this!" Mellins cried out, lunging away from the panel. The sirens kicked in as the thunder of the hydraulics kicked on.

The thing coming at us broke into a shambling run, wrapping its arms weirdly around its chest as it charged at us. I raised my pistol and realized it was empty. I could either stash Martin and reload the pistol or I could...

I couldn't let go of Martin, he needed me, was tugging hard on my thumb to get my attention. The creature was coming closer, moving faster than I thought it could. It would leave the entrance of the site in only a few more seconds.

The door wouldn't close in time, the staggering lurching figure was through the decon area, sliding fluidly on the ice covered steel grate. It would be out in seconds.

I glanced down, intending on stashing Martin and reloading my pistol.

Martin looked up at me, pausing at tugging at my thumb, his soulful eyes wide and scared. He pointed at the tunnel and then at my pistol and shook his head.

"What?" I asked. "What, Martin?"

Martin pointed at my pistol and then at the figure that had almost reached us, its shadow climbing up us, then shook his little head. I glanced, the door was almost closed, and the creature inside had veered, gaining speed as it lurched toward the narrowing slit of the closing door.

It was going to make it.

I looked back down at Martin, still trying to decide whether or not to tuck him away and load my pistol or pay attention to Martin.

Martin sketched a quick letter in air.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" I shouted. I knocked Donaldson's rifle up just as he fired, the bullets vanishing into the dark above the entrance.

The misshapen creature staggered out, lurching just past the door, and collapsed in the snow in front of the door as it slid shut as unstoppable as death itself with a boom that caused snow to fall, covering the figure.

The mounded snow was still for moment, and I held my breath, willing Martin to be right.

An arm, clad in heavy protective clothing with strips of metal to turn blades or shrapnel, the gloved fist holding a dented and battered flamethrower ejector, thrust its way out of the snow at an angle, pointing the ejector off to the right of us, toward the cliff edge.

The flamethrower spewed guttering yellow flame, waving the stuttered bar up and down, then the flame cut out.

"Kincaid!" Donaldson yelled.

The fire spewed out again, suddenly cut off, and the arm fell into the snowbank.

Donaldson and I rushed forward.

The arm waved weakly again and the snow heaved, but Kincaid wasn't able to claw his way out.

We reached the snow, and we both plunged our bare hands into the snow. I grabbed onto the fuel pack and looked at Donaldson, who nodded.

"On three." I said. He nodded again. "One. Two. Three!" We both heaved, dragging Kincaid up. My vision darkened, but didn't completely black out.

Kincaid's suit was spattered with blood, chunks of tissue, and soot. His eyes were closed, his face covered with blood from a nasty gash across his forehead. The suit was split open right above the face shield. The face plate was deeply scored, cracked and pitted with the upper right corner missing a chunk, and I could see where droplets of burning fuel had landed on the faceplate, marring it. There was a crossbow bolt in the side of the hood, the point digging into a deep scratch on the side of his head. One arm was sliced in several places, exposing his skin, and his right hand was bright red, blistered, with two of his fingernails missing and replaced by popped blisters.

"K-Bar!" I yelled, yanking on him, shaking him as hard as I could. "Kincaid, report!"

Kincaid's eyes opened, unfocused, but open.

"Did I fucking get the bastard?" He asked.

"Who?" Donaldson asked.

"Did I get that grinning fucker?" He gasped. He tried to put his knees under him, tried to get to his feet.

"Tandy, yeah, you got him, brother." I told him.

He grinned, his lips dried and split from the heat, ignoring the blood that oozed from his nose.

"Flamethrower. Fuck yeah." He said.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in our arms.