Building #1, (Barracks)
Task Force 38 Intelligence Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, Germany
0615 Hours
28 October, 2004

The sound of our bootsteps echoed in the stairwell as we headed down toward the basement where formation was going to be held. Frost shaken from the metal staircase and snow floated in the cold still air, dancing around us as we went slow on the steps so that we didn't slip in the ice that coated them. There was a popping noise above us, but we ignored it even when the stairs gave a low groan that shook the air and sent the drifting flakes to dancing.

I kept up out of habit, but I felt drained, empty, with the loss of Aine. The warm spark in my heart, next to the warmth of Heather and my children, seemed dim, cooling, and I knew that it would soon become another chunk of ice lodged in my heart. I'd lost her, let the mountain take her from me. Tandy had snatched her right out from under my nose, torn away someone I had known since literal infancy, literally almost all of my life.

...warm arms going around me under the jungle gym as the little redhead girl threw herself against me and kissed me in front of the other girls in our second grade class...

When we reached the bottom Hernandez pulled open the door, and we moved into the hallway. The chock was down on the basement door and we walked into the massive room. It was dimly lit, only puddles of light illuminating where some people were clustered up. The sides were taken off the heaters, exposing their inner workings, with tools spread around them from where Carmichael had people working on them. I could tell that it had done no good so far, and that it probably wouldn't help at all.

...Aine crawling across the ceiling, above the man hunting for us, her eyes narrow slits of emerald green as she stalked the man who had killed her lover...

Colonel Sawyer saw me and made a beeline for me, Sergeant Georges following him. Georges had left thirty minutes before to let Sawyer know what was happening, what had happened. How I'd lost Aine, let Tandy just take her from me. Now he knew too something I'd hidden from the world, something I'd fought to deny, something my mother knew.

...'oh, Annie, your poor face', Aine said softly, wiping my face down with her panties that she had wettened with the garden hose. They  came back bloody, the cuts on my face from my mother's many rings stinging as she kept wiping...

That I was just a failure at anything more than killing people, that I was anything more than a weapon.

Anything more than a boy.

...dirty nasty violent boy, vile despoiler of women, disgusting little creature...

Just like my mother had always said.

...should have died, should have drowned you at birth, you're worthless, weak, and the best thing that could happen for the whole world is if you died...

Colonel Sawyer called out to me, but I just kept walking forward numbly, almost stumbling, as I bounced off of Vandemire's shoulder in order to move past him. Colonel Sawyer stumbled as bounced off of him, reflexes slapping his reaching hand away.

...Aine's mouth turning into an O of pain as Tandy's talons punched deep into her flesh...

Colonel Sawyer took me arm, leading me over to the side wall, the others moving around me to act as a shield between me any the other people in the basement. I took an extra step when he let go of me, pressing my forehead against the wall, relishing the coolness.

"I heard," He said, "Are you all right?"

I shook my head, leaning against the wall.

...Aine's laughter as she danced in the rain out at Atlas, her naked body glistening...

"Can you continue to function?" He asked me, "because I think things are going to get worse."

I shook my head, putting my face in my hands.

...Aine's hands reaching out for me as Tandy yanked her into the mirror...

"I don't know," I admitted. "I can't, I just..."

"That thing snatched her right out of his hands," Langmire said. "You didn't see that thing, Colonel, it was a fucking horror-show."

"I've seen those things before," Sawyer said, looking awkward as I started crying again.

...Aine dancing in the snow as she led us back from the motorpool, the fat flakes lighting in her hair, sometimes in her dress, other times naked, as she whirled and leaped, leaving no tracks...

"Not like this one," Vandemire said, shaking his head. "I've seen it take two people. This one is worse, this one is doing it because it wants to, because it likes to," He shuddered, "It isn't like the others."

"You need to get it together, Stillwater," Colonel Sawyer said, "Lieutenant Colonel Carmichael is talking about placing you under arrest."

...'place you under arrest under suspicion of treason to the United States,' the Lieutenant told me, his minions on either side of him as I sat bound to a chair, Nagle and Bomber behind me...

"I don't care," I told him.

...Aine smiling as she wiped the sweat from her brow, the Saudi Arabian sun beating down on us...

"I need you to care, Sergeant," Sawyer said. "This isn't going to stop just because you give up." He turned to Vandemire, "How is he?"

Bomber stood behind the Colonel, stepping out from behind Longmire, dressed in chocolate chips with a bandage around his head and his arm in a sling. "He ain't doin' good, sir," he said, his Texas accent thick. "I seen him worse, but he's doing pretty bad."

Vandemire shrugged, "How do you expect? They loved each other, probably have been in love since childhood, and some grinning freak snatched her through a mirror."

"You've said it yourself, Ant, you can't fight Tandy any more than you can fight the mountain itself," Bomber said, reaching up the scratch the scar on his neck. "We both know that."

"He's stopped screaming and fighting," Langmire said, touching the puffy flesh under his eye. "He just sat there after that, though, even while we pulled all that glass out of his face, head, and arm from when the mirror exploded. I think I'd prefer him fighting though."

...screaming and bucking underneath Aine as she painted lines on my chest and face, squeezing me with her thighs so she could hang on while Nancy worked feverishly on our wounded friend...

The basement wall was cold as I slid down it, wrapping my arms around my knees and hugging myself tight. Bomber moved over next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was warm, comforting against my cold skin.

"Tight spot, brother," Bomber said, waving his hand at the gathered soldiers, the basement, the barracks, hell, the mountain. "They pulled you back here and haven't even actually said why. Ever think of that, brother? Either the mountain suckered everyone, or something else is going on here."

No rage, just the taste of ashes in my mouth, at the thought of being a pawn in someone's game.

"Get him on his feet, keep him at the rear of formation, I'll try to get Carmichael to understand he got a fist in his mouth and choked out because he's got a big fucking mouth," Colonel Sawyer said.

...this paint will get Aodan to his feet, kelly Nagle, but if I do not finish he will be nothing but rage...

Hernandez and Vandemire grabbed my arms, hoisting me up between them, and half dragged me to the back of the formation. There were whispers in the formation but I ignored them, when a couple of people looked back and saw them half supporting me. I knew they were talking about me, talking about how I had beaten on Carmichael, whispering to each other.

That I'd failed to save Aine.

I simply didn't care about what they said. They were right.

I'd been too slow. Too stupid. Too naive.

Too weak.

"Stand up straight," Hernandez whispered, elbowing me.

My body felt tired, old, as I straightened to attention. Like I'd been drained of something I couldn't identify. I'd lost more than Aine when Tandy had pulled her through the mirror.

"Yes, yes you did," Bomber said from behind me.

My wife, my children, were under Tauth de Aine's hand, under her protection, residing in her glade with her.

"She saw a chance, and took it, Ant," Bomber said, "You couldn't expect her not to get leverage on you, brother."

And I'd let the mountain take her strange but beloved kelly daughter. The only Aine in history who had been more, become a kelly and fought in this old dark place.

"She probably knew, Ant, what would happen, you know that right?" Bomber told me. "She isn't human, isn't part of the normal world, who knows if she knew somehow what would happen."

...Tuath de Aine standing in the clearing, her hair, full of flowers, cascading down her back and into the ferns of the clearing. Small thorns stuck out from around her nipples, razor sharp thorns extending from under her fingernails, and her teeth were razor sharp triangles...

But now one of the old dark things that places like Alfenwehr attracted, bred, nurtured, had taken Tauth de Aine's daughter right out of my hands.

...the mirror shattering as Aine vanished into it, the glass rippling like water for a second before it exploded outward, shattered glass slicing into my arm and hitting the blind side of my face...

She would take my wife and children as blood price. Replace her lost daughter with my wife and children. Heather's bloodline had royalty in it, witches, and warriors, Tauth de Aine would treasure her blood, keep her with her in those eternal glades she watched over in the abandoned, lost, or unknown places in the deep forests.

A man in digicam stepped up, and I could see the First Sergeant rank on his uniform. He had a name, but I didn't care, people's pets had names too and I didn't care about those names either. He was obviously the Top Kick, the NCOIC of the Task Force 38 Rear Detachment.

The NCOIC of all the men who were going to die.

"Yup, that they will, Ant," Bomber said, "'specially if you just leave them to die and just stand there. Remember that winter, Ant, when we waited almost too long?"

"Go away, Johnny," I whispered. Neither Vandemire nor Hernandez noticed.

"How about me, Ant, do you want me to go away?" Nancy asked from behind me. "You going to just stand there, like the time we let the Lieutenant kill half of Rear-D, let him tie us to a chair and torture us?"

"Go away, Nancy," I whispered. They didn't notice that time either.

Why should they? I was a failure, plain and simple.

Just a busted up old man who should have died years ago, died and left the world a better place.

"Attention," The First Sergeant snapped. I noticed that he didn't have a combat patch on his sleeve, and for a second it triggered contempt, but like everything else, it fell away to ashes. I knew the price that a combat patch could cost, maybe it was better he didn't have one.

A combat patch didn't help me make the correct decisions. If it did, I wouldn't have lost Aine.

...the pain on her face, and how for a split second I wasn't looking at Aine, but at Hannah Lane, right before the talons crunched for a second time. Hannah Lane vanished, the terrified woman turning back into Aine McCullen and her hands flew up to grab at Tandy's wrists, the muscles in her forearms bunching under her smooth, flawless, alabaster skin as she screamed and screamed and screamed...

Everyone drew up to attention. I looked behind the First Sergeant and LT COL  Carmichael. He was standing in a puddle of light, in front of the heavy duty water heaters. His nose was taped, butterfly bandages on the cuts on his face, his eyes and lips swollen from the beating I'd given him. He had on his Class-A uniform, all of three rows of ribbons on it, most of them mandatory issue with time in grade and service. He had air assault and airborne on his uniform, and I noticed it was the Evershine versions, bright chrome plated ones designed to garner attention. The same with all his brass, which were specially treated, but always looked fake to my eyes.

"He's showing off for the troops," Nancy whispered. "You wounded his pride in front of everyone."

I ached to go up there and smash what remained of his smug fucking face in, but I couldn't seem to find the energy, couldn't seem to make myself care enough about a strutting little poppinjay or the two smirking little shits in the black suits with the American flag lapel pins on either side of him.

The rage crumbled again to the taste of ashes in my mouth.

"Report," The First Sergeant said.

...give me a proper report, Fruit Bat, remember SALUTE...

"First Platoon all present and accounted for," Someone said.

"Second Platoon, all present and accounted for," Another voice. I didn't really care who.

"Third Platoon, present and accounted for," Another voice. It sounded like Sergeant First Class Allison for a moment.

The First Sergeant made an about face and saluted Carmichael, "All present and accounted for, sir." He snapped.

Charmichael held off saluting back just for a moment before finally allowed the First Sergeant to drop his salute by saluting back.

"Thank you, First Sergeant," He said, stepping forward. The First Sergeant moved off to the side.

"Training today will continue on as scheduled," Carmichael stated, his voice distorted by his broken nose. "Additionally, there will be a turn-in of all arms and ammunition, without exception." There was a grumbling at that, and Carmichael's face grew angry. He stepped back slightly and made a show of looking back and forth between the three platoons. "After witnessing the mass hysteria that seems to be affecting some people," he put emphasis on the last two words.

"Psst, he's talking about you, Ant," Nancy whispered.

"And the reports that some people have been turning in to explain away cowardice and questionable decisions, I feel it is in everyone's best interest that all weapons and ammunition be turned in to avoid any accidents." His voice had a strange gloating sound to it.

"I think we know how this is going to turn out, Ant," Westlin said, stepping up next to me in her BDU's, her vest open. She half turned to look at me and I could see the hole in her shirt where the sniper had put a 7.62mm bullet from an SVD into her. Blood ran down her chin as she spoke, but she didn't seem to notice it.

"The safety of this unit is my primary concern, and for that matter we need to be aware that some people are a threat to," LT COL Carmichael said.

He never finished what some people were a threat to.

The figure stepped out of the shadows between the two water heaters. Massively built, over six foot tall, made bulkier by the extreme cold weather gear he was covered in.

The axe in his hands, the handle sporting 2/19th MOTORPOOL burnt into it, swung through the air, slicing down, and impacting between Carmichael's shoulder with the sound of someone dropping a pumpkin on pavement.

Blood splashed his cold weather mask.

He looked up and his one good eye locked on mine.

He kicked the suddenly limp Carmichael off of his axe, bringing it to port arms. He inhaled deeply, making his shoulders rise and fall, but no steam exited the mouthpiece of his mask.

"OK, I didn't see that coming," Westlin said, raising her eyebrows.