TIME/DATE ERROR
Daytime, Winter
GPS LOCATION ERROR
Templar Fortress, Alfenwehr
CPU VOLTAGE SPIKES

The walls were raw rock, often carved with sigils and crude pictures. Most of them were to saints or religious figures. The Templars, after all, were a religious organization. The ice was left behind, the bare rock slowly appearing, until just frost glittering stone remained.

Two passages led off, but those went to rooms that we had figured out were "ready rooms" where men had stood on guard.

Bad things had happened here, but it was a shelter I could trust.

My brain was still clicking through my options, making plans, focusing on what was in front of me and the future, rather than bothering to process everything that happened.

That was for another day. Actually, for other nights, where I would be helpless and live through it over and over again, this time feeling the emotions that a normal person would feel.

But right now I was a weapon. Twisted steel and sex appeal.

All the ladies love a killer.

They'd really love me.

I'd gotten Little-Bit killed out there in the cold and dark.

The hallway twisted a few times then opened up into a larger area. We'd figured out it was the nave, identified what had been Jesus on the Cross before whatever had gone down had happened.

Water had oozed from a crack in the stone above the carved out cross and frozen, eternally frozen, preserving the bloody ragged skeleton crucified in place of Christ for all eternity.

Through the nave, into the next passage. The larger caverns/chambers I couldn't risk. I needed heat and small spaces, and I knew exactly where.

Anyone who didn't know how innovative and productive the ancient world was would have been surprised by the complexity of the Templar fortress carved into the living stone of the caves of Alfenwehr. Multiple chambers, smoke venting, a warm spring where pressure and something inside the mountain (probably hate) heated the water before it poured from a crack the size of the thickness of my index finger, a stone carved kitchen.

We'd repurposed it.

To fight and win on the nuclear battlefield.

The door we'd built was still in place. Heavy, steel, stolen from the barracks repairs, with a padlocked chain. The lock was thick, heavy, case steel wrapped around a half-inch bolt.

I grabbed it and yanked.

It popped open.

We'd never had the keys to it.

The door squealed when I opened it, and the air felt different. Less oppressive, thicker and richer, more welcoming and comforting.

"FINISH THE FIGHT" was written on the wall. I'd drawn a mushroom cloud and the silhouette of a blasted city-scape below it, with "2/19th Special Weapons" below it.

Despite our nihilism and rage, we still love our unit like it was the parents who had rejected us, like it was the society and nation we guarded but hated us.

We'd layered lumber taken from pallets onto the floor and my boots made soft thumps on them as I crossed the wooden floor to the vast fireplace. The Templars who had originally built the place had done an amazing job, working with stone and mortar, and the venting for it took it to somewhere on the rocks above the edge of the cliff.

I carefully prepared the fire. Tinder first. Old dryer lint, with thin slices of wood. My zippo caught the dryer lint immediately and I carefully nursed the tinder into a full blown blaze in a few minutes.

I'd have to chop more wood in a few days, but we had plenty stocked, well, I had plenty stocked for the moment.

I crouched down, pulling off my gloves and warming my hands. My right hand was chilled to the bone, dark spots over the pins in my right hand, the hot blood from the warg having quickly cooled off and turned to ice.

Slowly it got warm in the room.

I'd need to explore first. Let the lizard figure out if any of the rooms were compromised.

But first, I needed to...

...Little-Bit's face as she lay next to me, sleeping. Her eyes closed, long lashes, her cupid's bow of a mouth slightly smiling, her lips parted and breathing sweet breath into my face as I stared at her while she slept naked next to me under the thick quilt...

...'do you love me, Tony?' she asked me as I rubbed her shoulders...

...'I never knew that underneath the Ant you were like this. No wonder Nancy loved you so desperately'...

...kissing her belly as she gasped in pleasure...

...her holding me and rocking me gently as I shuddered, the memories hammering through me of being dead and chasing one of my troops through the dark halls...

...'you're alive now, Tony, here, now, in my arms, you are alive'...

...'we did what we did because we had to'...

...I used to watch you through the scope, Anthony, I know you won't hurt me...

...I love you, Tony...

My brain shorted out and I realized I was crying, sitting in front of the fire with my hands out.

Little-Bit was gone.

Not even on my best day could I have held onto her as that avalanche had swept down on us.

Goddamn you, Little-Bit, you should have trusted me!

I pushed that feeling, that sentiment, that rage at the dead woman, away and down, into the parts of my brain that was nothing but red hot rage that I used for fuel when I was out of gas.

I'd killed her, as sure as I'd slit her throat myself.

If she'd trusted me, she would have moved.

...the snow sweeping over me right when she finished saying she'd be fine...

...the pounding pressure of the living wave of snow...

No. That wasn't true. There was time. There was always time. I should have yelled it to her while I moved. I should have made sure she was safe before taking care of myself.

I should have done...

something.

anything

I'd have to admit to Chief Henley, and whatever unhung bastard that PERSCOM had saddled us with as a Commanding Officer, what had happened. That if I'd been faster, been better, then maybe Little-Bit would still be alive.

I put my face in my hands and wept.

Survival Processor Interrupt
LOCATION GPS ERROR
Templar Fortress, Alfenwehr
West Germany
TIME/DATE STAMP ERROR
Daytime

Wearing wooden goggles over my eyes that only had a thin slit to allow me to see, I knelt down and checked the snow again. A stag, and a heavy one. I didn't have my rifle any more, it and the pistol swept away in the avalanche. Instead I had a spear I'd made myself, balanced and tipped with a steel head I'd fashioned myself in the Fortress.

The berry bushes were dead, but some leaves and old fruit was still present.

Still steaming dung told me that the stag had been there moments before.

Good. I'd tracked him since morning, following him around the mountain. He didn't want to go down, the slopes were bad and he'd risk breaking his legs. He couldn't go up, the air was too thin for him. He was stuck in a 500 vertical foot range.

And I'd been hot on his trail since just after dawn.

There. Drinking from a creek that he'd cracked the ice with one hoof.

He was blowing heavily, lowering his head to drink, and he was upwind of me. I moved fast, but silently across the snow.

I was hungry for more than MREs and T-Rats. I wanted meat. Red meat.

He heard me coming at the last second, his head coming up. His eyes were wild, foam around his nostrils still, sweat coating him.

I'd been pushing him for hours and he was out of gas.

The spear hit right where I wanted it to. Slightly behind his left leg, sinking deep in. The leaf bladed razor sharp head splitting open hide, fat, and muscle.

It vomited blood, voided its bowels, and collapsed.

I'd towed a sled behind me. One I'd made with my own two hands. I'd spent days inside the caves that made up the Templar Fort, getting ready for my excursion.

I knew what I was doing. It almost encoded into my DNA. Humans had been doing it since before we were recognizable as modern man.

He was just a beast.

I was a man.

I twisted the spear to make sure he was done, waited for the count to ten, then pulled the spear out. Bright red blood oozed out and I got down on my knees, drinking the salty, coppery, warm blood as it oozed out. When I leaned back the blood and tissue froze. I counted to ten again, then turned back to go and get my sled.

Instead of the modern nylon and fiberglass snowshoed I was wearing ones I'd built myself that made shushing sounds as I trekked to where I'd left the sled. I picked up the rope and headed back to where the stag was.

He was large, but not too large for me to manhandle onto the sled. The sled sunk a few inches into the snow, but I'd crafted the forward arc to be shallow, so that wasn't any problem.

The blood had filled my belly with warmth and quick to digest energy, so I felt pretty good as I started dragging my sled back.

Amusing thing, for all of its desperation to escape the remorseless untiring killing machine behind it, it had died less than two hundred yards from the secondary access point to the fortress.

In a way I felt bad for it. It wasn't built to eat or drink on the run like I was. Hell, I could even turn around, keep walking, and urinate into the snow. He had to stop to urinate.

He'd spotted me and bounded away through the snow. Sure he was safe from something like a wolf or a cougar or one of Alfenwehr's massive cats, he would have stopped, breathing heavy.

And I'd come trudging out of the snow.

He'd bounded away again. A little further this time. Stopping and breathing heavy, looking around for food.

And I'd showed up again. This time closer and from a slightly different direction.

Now he wasn't sure if there was two of us as he bounded away. He'd seen a bush with some winter berries on it, stopping to nibble.

I'd shown up again, bellowing my war cry, panicking him, sending him bounding off.

Every time he started to settle down, that weird, echoing, bass roar had shaken the leaves, causing him to bound away.

Finally, he'd stopped to eat again, ignoring the bellowing cry.

And right afterwards I'd showed up.

by that time, he'd been running on empty. He'd ran as far as shaking legs could carry him, laid down, and tried to sleep.

And I'd come out of the snow from a different direction, moving almost silently. He'd only woken up because my knee brace was squeaking.

Over and over again.

To him, I was some kind of monster. Never stopping. Never eating. Never drinking. Just always showing up, showing no signs of slowing.

Even if I hadn't had speared him, he would have collapsed in exhaustion and died before the sun had set.

It was why mankind was top of the food chain.

Thinking about it, I'd dragged it into one the rooms I'd blocked off for my own use.

I'd butcher him. Scrape the fat from his hide to pound into pemmican, stretch and tan the hides, roast some of the meat, smoke the rest, use his bone and sinews for tools and luxuries.

My mouth was watering as I made the first cut and gutted him, ease of long practice letting me avoid puncturing his intestines.

I'd use those for sausage casings once I'd washed them out.

I sang softly to myself, a song that Aine had taught me when we were young.

I could almost smell her apple blossoms.

It made me able to forget I was alone.

Because I'd killed Little-Bit.

Survival Center Interrupt
GPS ERROR
South Ridge, Second Grove, Sheepshead Rock
The Mountain
TIME/DATE ERROR
Day - Winter

I crouched down, watching the wargs passed. The big alpha's back would be over my head, and the massive fangs jutting from his lower jaw were as thick and long as my forearm. They were sweeping the lower slopes, just above the top of the ski lift, looking for prey.

Looking for me.

The lizard chittered in amusement as they kept moving.

The furs I'd donned were warm, and I was comfortable, the slitted wooden goggles protecting my one good eye from snowblindness. Even the wan sunlight filtering through the thick storm clouds could damage my eyesight, and I knew better than to take the chance.

I'd led them around in a circle, away from the entrance to my lair.

They were animals.

I was a man.

I was smiling beneath the fur across my nose and mouth as I started moving again.

They'd get tired eventually, using up vital resources, and return to their lair.

By that time I'd be back in mine.

I'd caught the doe drinking. She had been young, foolish, and I'd managed to drive the spear home before she even knew I was there. I'd heard the wolves barking and baying at one another and buried her in the snow before moving.

They weren't interested in the meat.

They wanted me.

It would be dark soon. I'd need the meat. The sun wouldn't come back until after I'd eaten several times and slept more than once.

But that was all right. If the sun was gone too long, I would hunt in the darkness.

First, though, I needed to claim my kill.

I missed the woman. She would have been impressed by the kill and rewarded me with sweet words and sweeter touches.

But I'd killed her.

And now I was alone.

SURVIVAL CENTER INTERRUPT
GPS LOCATION ERROR
TIME/DATE STAMP ERROR
CORE VOLTAGE SURGE DETECTED

I am the Ant.

This mountain is mine.