Old 2/19th SWG Secure Area
Task Force 38 Intelligence Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, Germany
24 November, 2004
0230 Hours

I bolted up out of the snow, turning in place and running, splitting up, heading for the vehicle graveyard and separating myself from the others. John caught up with me and I kept running, not looking back, knowing what I'd see.

Oakes and Kebble had pulled their hands from behind their back to reveal claws that their shadows made look at least a foot long, jointed and segmented too many times for human hands. The LT had pulled an axe from behind his back, and I could tell he was dressed in Class-A's.

Someone screamed as I ran, and there was gunfire. I saw someone slightly ahead of me and on my right just barely visible go down, blood spraying black on the snow, but I couldn't tell who it was, one of the new guys, I think one of the SEALs. Another long burst, another short sharp burst breaking in on it, and I almost went down as something smashed into my vest, feeling one of my ribs pop. Someone else went down from a burst hitting them in the back, this one just ahead of me, the spiteful whip-crack of the bullets that just missed me sounding flat and fake in my ears. I jumped over them, and realized who it was when I looked down.

Lanks.

I turned around, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet. She was dead weight, and her head lolled on a boneless neck. John grabbed her other arm and we slogged through the snow. She was coughing, blood running from her mouth.

"Leave..," She gagged, coughing out more blood.

"Shut up, bitch," John said, pulling her along.

More screams. The junkyard was less than 20 paces away, I could already see the larger vehicles half out of the snow, dark shapes against the white. Screaming was getting louder, and someone hosed off an entire magazine. I stumbled again, feeling a horse kick me in the right side of my ribs.

"...can't..." Lanks gasped, coughing again. Blood bubbled out of her mouth, spilling out of her nose. Her feet were limp, unmoving, and her head still rolled bonelessly, "feel... legs..."

We rounded the side of the corpse of 5-ton 162, trying to get to cover. There was cover there, heavy metal to stop...

John gave a grunt and went down, pulling me and Lanks into the snow with him.

I rolled over, grabbing Lanks' arm and pulling her behind the mangled wreckage. I could see where she'd been hit, right below her vest, punching through her lower back. When I pulled her up she coughed, spattering me with blood that froze before it could even steam. I pushed her against the wreckage and moved back to John, who was trying to get up. I grabbed his arms and pulled him behind the rusted hulk.

"Fuck, shot," John said. He groaned, tried to push up. "Caught some, brother."

I turned to Lanks, looking at her. She was shivering, licking lips made dry by blood loss induced dehydration. She was going out, I could tell. I'd seen it enough times to know when someone was going down.

"Hold her, don't let her go out alone, man," John said.

I nodded, sitting down next to her and wrapping my arms around her. She coughed, and shivered again. I pulled down her mask so I could see her face.

"Momma," she said softly, the voice of a scared and hurt little girl.

And died in our arms.

"Goddamn them," John groaned. He coughed, then moaned. "Took a couple in the vest and down my left side."

"How bad," I asked, petting Lanks hair. She was already getting cold in my arms.

"Leg and hip," He said. He reached down and felt along his thigh, crying out but muffling it with his other arm, "Broke my leg. Think I'm bleeding out."

"Lemme get your belt, tourniquet it off," I said.

John shook his head, "Just gonna sit here a minute, Ant. Stay with Lanks." He pulled down his cold weather mask so I could see his face. His lips were pale and his expression twisted with agony. "Someone should stay with her, it ain't right to leave her alone."

"Johnny, no," I said, leaning forward so my forehead touched his.

"Go, now," John said. He coughed, and this time he spit blood on the ground. "Told ya, went undah mah vest. Just gonna sit here ahwahl with mah gurl, Lanks."

"Goddamn it," I shifted Lanks so she was leaning against him. "Hold her. Be seeing ya, brother."

"Be seein' ya, bruddah," He coughed, his voice almost silent. When he looked up his eyes were soft, unfocused, and looking at something behind me. "Rennie, is that you?" He coughed again, a weak thing, blood gushing out of his mouth. He reached toward me and I grabbed his hand, holding onto it.

"Rennie..." He breathed out. He breathed in. "Miranda, daddy's home." He was still looking through me, behind me, not seeing me. "I love..." he ran out of breath.

He didn't inhale.

His eyes emptied, and he was gone.

I stood up, looking down at John. His eyes were open, and I shifted Lanks so he was holding her, then closed both of their eyes.

"Goddamn you, John Bomber, for leaving me alone," I said bitterly, turning away. "Dammit, John."

I kept moving, heading deeper into the wrecking yard. Past the wreckage of the ambulance that Heather had been in during Desert Storm that had arrived back from the desert half crushed after the moron Navy loaded it wrong. Past Sergeant Baker's CUC-V that he drove into the river and drowned.

There it was, CUC-V-16, Heather's old vehicle that had been stripped for parts after Atlas had exploded. Nancy was sitting on the bumper, looking at Stokes and a couple of the other troops. Stokes was facing me, and waved me over.

"Anyone with you?" Stokes asked.

"No. Not now," I told her as we moved toward Nancy.

"Who?" She asked. I heard the catch in her voice.

Aine was squatted down, helping up a bandage on the SAS guy's arm.

"He wasn't human, I swear to God, nothing human looks like that," he was saying. I could see that he was missing three of his fingers, his hand bound up. "I managed to push him back, but my hand, he bit off half my fucking hand."

"Why the herbs?" Another guy asked.

"Leech the cold out of the wound, otherwise you will lose your entire arm," Aine said softly. She leaned forward and kissed him. "Something to keep you..."

She turned around and looked at me as I stepped up behind her. Her eyes went wide, her mouth opened, and she choked on a sob. "Oh, no," She gasped, her voice full of pain.

"What?" Nancy asked, turning to look at me. "Where are you hurt?"

"Oh no, no no no," Aine moaned, moving to me, shouldering Nancy out of the way hard enough that the larger woman fell into the snow, "Oh, no, please no." She touched the blood on my parka and brought it to her lips.

Nancy's face filled with fear as Aine went down to her knees, wrapping her arms around her stomach and rocking back and forth.

"It's not mine," I told them.

Beakman moved forward, going to help Aine up, but she straight armed him hard enough to lift him into the air and throw him back into the snow almost five feet away. She covered her mouth to muffle her wail of pain.

"John," Nancy said, tears spilling from her eyes.

"And Lanks," I told her. "I saw one of the SEALs go down." I looked around, "Is this everyone else?" Nancy came up and touched the front of my parka, then stared at her fingers where they gleamed wetly with John and Lanks' blood.

Stokes nodded, her expression blank.

"Everyone patched up?" I asked. Nancy sobbed.

Stokes nodded again.

"Then let's move out," I snapped. "Nagle! Let's go." She jerked as if I slapped her, then nodded numbly, moving over and grabbing her medical bag. "Aine."

Aine looked up, her eyes wounded.

"Let's go," I told her.

She moaned and curled over her stomach.

I stepped forward, grabbing her by her hair, and pulled her along behind me.

"Hey, now, you can't..." someone behind me said as Aine stumbled to her feet.

"Mind your business, troop," Beakman snapped.

"We stay on mission," I growled. "Rally Point Golf, fifteen minutes. Leave the dead."

Nancy caught up to me, glancing at me, then looking away. Aine had pulled away from me, but kept up with me, with Stokes on the other side of her.

Aine no longer skipped across the top of snow like an errant flake. Instead she sunk almost knee deep and had to struggle to keep up.

We were silent as we headed up the side of the mountain. I knew the other teams would know we were delayed. All the small arms fire would clue them in that something happened. My brain was clicking through the options, and the lizard was keeping the overwhelming grief from reaching me.

John had been the first person I saw when I stepped off the bus at reception. He'd been there, been with me, through everything. We'd had each other's back for over twenty years.

Now he was dead.

Goddamn you, John Bomber, for leaving me alone.

We hit another patrol, without warning, both groups running into each other in the fog and mist. It was close range work, pistols, knives, short controlled burst, and we had bayonets. The first one came out of the fog and I lunged forward, slamming my bayonet into his midsection, the blade slid off a ceramic plate before sinking deep, and blowing him off of it with a muscle memory ingrained trigger pull.

A rifle went off in front of me, close enough I could feel the heat on the exposed flesh of my neck. I fired back and someone screamed. Someone went down next to me, almost taking me down with me, but I saw his killer fall backwards with a scream. I stepped up and bayoneted the guy, slamming the bayonet into him hard enough to push through his body armor before I fired again.

Aine moved in front of me, dodging and weaving, and popped up in front of the guy I was going after, sinking her bayonet under his chin and blowing the top of his head all over the inside of his helmet. I saw Stokes grab someone and break apart their ribcage with four well placed punches that made his ribs go with a crackle I could hear over the gunfire.

In seconds it was over, nothing but the echoes remaining.

"Hotel Charlie Six, report in, come in, Hotel Charlie Six," A headset crackled.

"You need to keep moving, they know where we are now," Colonel Sawyer said. He was sitting down in the snow, his hands on his stomach.

"Let me see," Nancy said, moving up.

"No," Sawyer said, shaking his head. "Vision's already going and I'm warm instead of cold."

"Let me see," She insisted.

"Leave me, that 's an order, soldier," He snapped. He lifted his pistol and it gleamed wetly with his own blood. Blood was spreading across the snow, and when he moved his hand something shifted and blood poured out on his legs. His arm dropped. "Go, now."

"None of us get off this fucking mountain alive," I snapped, moving up next to Nancy and taking her arm. I could see the denial in her eyes and pushed my face into hers. "If we stay here, they'll find us in a few minutes and kill us."

She nodded and looked back at Sawyer.

He'd slumped forward, his hands off his stomach and at his side, the air clear in front of his face.

"Dammit," She snarled, pulling away from me.

"All elements pull back right now. Team leaders get headcounts and confirm identities," the radio crackled.

The SAS guy was down. Unmoving. Stokes looked up and shook her head.

We were down to Stokes, Nancy, Hernandez, Aine, Blake, Beakman, and me.

In the distance I could hear small arms.

"Hotel Charlie Two, engaging the enemy," Came over the headset.

I left it behind with the SAS and Sawyer.

We kept moving until we were at the woodline behind the airfield, taking a five minute break. I lit a cigarette and stared through the fog at where I knew the command and control building was.

"Ant," Nancy said.

"Leave me alone," I told her.

"I'm sorry," She said.

"I had to leave him behind," I snarled, "Him and Lanks both." I pushed the image of snow dusting the two of them in the rough embrace I'd left them in.

Aine lifted her head, looking deeper into the woods. "Something's coming."

"It's me," Little Bit came out of the woods, not far, staying in the shadows, but we could tell it was her by her short stocky stature and the way she held her shoulders.

"Anyone else with you?" Stokes asked.

"We got ambushed. We got them, but they got us," She said. Her voice sounded... off. "They got all of us."

"Anyone else?" Captain Blake asked. "Move up, soldier." I started to move forward, thinking she might have taken a bad hit.

Aine grabbed my arm and made a low whining noise.

"You don't have long," Little Bit said. I realized I could faintly see the snow behind her, through her.

"You wounded?" Nancy snapped, looking at Little Bit, who hadn't moved forward. "Little Bit, sweety?"

"It was an honor," Little Bit said, and started receding into the darkness of the woods. "Atlas all the way."

"Little Bit?" Nancy's voice was heart broken, "Sweety? Come back."

Aine grabbed her arm, shaking her head, her eyes full of pain.

"Sweety?" Nancy said.

Little Bit disappeared into the woods, and I noticed that she hadn't left any footprints.

"She's gone," Westlin said from where she was standing, leaning against a tree.

"Let's go," I said, turning away from Little-Bit's shade.

"Aren't we going to..." Captain Blake asked, referring to the original plan to come in slow, on our bellies, and sneak up to the building.

"No. You heard her, we don't have long," I said.

"But..." Blake tried again.

"We need to keep up," Beakman said.

We hit the back door and I turned and looked at all we had.

Seven of us.

Goddamn you, John Bomber, for leaving me alone when I need you.