Everything you know is wrong
-Weird Al Yankovic

Barracks Area
2/19th Special Weapons Group Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, West Germany
23 November, 1988
0100
Day One of the Nov 88 Incident

I moved around the CQ counter.

thump step drag

everyone knows boots cost money

Both of the other men stared at me. One with the shield and eagle of Specialist on his lapels to replace the rank he'd lost plowing underage pussy, the other a Staff Sergeant who had gotten three of his men killed and was given the choice between 2/19th and prison.

They had names, but so did those poor bastards I'd slaughtered in these very barracks.

I glanced at the Pv2 and noticed he had an expression on his face that would fit in at a poker table. Carefully neutral, showing nothing of his thoughts or emotions.

he could sense it too

"Where the fuck have  you two assholes been?" The Specialist asked, his tone demanding and surly.

I stepped up on him and stared down at him. "Maybe you'd like a smack in the mouth to remind you that you're a low ranking scumbag who fucks kids."

He flushed and opened his mouth to answer and I pulled my hand back.

"Sergeant!" The E-6 snapped.

I dropped my hand down, turning to face him. "We got the power restored, Sergeant," I said slowly, not letting the Specialist out of my field of vision.

The Specialist frowned. "I thought we got power from main post through buried cables," he said, "A blizzard wouldn't knock that out."

I shook my head. "The dedicated V Corps line is an armored underground cable that's EMP shielded, and every year so far it's failed."

The Staff Sergeant leaned back in the chair, the metal back legs groaning slightly, and he laced his fingers behind his neck. "Specialist, when it gets as cold as it does here on Alfenwehr, anything is subject to the effects of ice and sub-zero temperatures."

I nodded as I moved over to a chair, removing my field jacket and hanging it from the back of the chair.

everyone knows boots cost money

"We fired up the generators, Sergeant," the Private said slowly as I sat down, sticking my leg straight out in front of me and sighing.

"How long will they last, Sergeant?" The Staff Sergeant asked me.

I pulled the wrench out of my breast pocket and started working on the brace. "We've got enough fuel to run till May if we have to, but it won't take that long."

"For what?" The Specialist sneered. He hadn't forgotten that I'd seen the fear in his eyes.

"Listen close and you can hear it," I said softly, winding the tension spring.

It went silent, only the clicking of the spool as I wound it.

From somewhere far away outside a woman screamed, loud and long, her voice filled with unspeakable agony, the sounds coming from the airlock doors. Beyond the airlock, the lights at the end of the walk were flickering. Bright, dim, bright, dim, each time it brightened just slightly dimmer than before, each time it dimmed, taking slightly longer to brighten again. The scream faded into choking sobs and when they ended the lights just beyond the steps that led down from the airlock porch flickered and went out in a shower of sparks. A voice shouted in German and boots crashed to the floor above us. We could hear someone walking back and forth and almost make out what they were saying.

From somewhere in Titty Territory someone was laughing. High pitched hysterical cackles. As they died down the lights in the CQ Area dimmed until each light was illuminating only below with yellowish light that felt greasy and dirty.

"What. The. Fuck?" The Staff Sergeant asked.

Through the open doors of the Day Room we heard the big screen projection TV come on, the sound of harsh static seeming to mask, coat, conceal whispers that urged you to listen closer.

"I told you it has already started," I said softly, putting the tool back into my pocket. I pointed at the heavy encrypted line. "Call V Corps, tell them we need an extraction ASAP."

The Staff Sergeant shook his head. "Really, Sergeant? A few weird noises and you..."

Banging started on the doors that separated Titty Territory from the CQ Area. Hard, rapid banging that shook the doors in their frames.

"What the fuck?" At least two of them said as we all stood up and looked at the double doors.

They were shaking, frost and ice chips showering down from them. The doors shivering, even though they were simply push to open either direction doors. They were vibrating, shuddering, as impacts slammed against them. The painted wire reinforced glass cracked, and some black painted glass chips fell to the floor.

I turned and looked at the airlock doors.

There was someone, some thing, standing between the two lights at the end of the walk. Standing out there in the darkness, silhouetted between the two dim lights, the snow flurries swirling around them.

The banging on the doors stopped, and we all heard the door from Titty Territory to the Near Stairwell slam open.

"Who was..." the Staff Sergeant started.

The hammering started on the door that led to the Near Stairwell from the CQ Area. The door shuddered, mortar dust began to leak from the edges of the heavy steel doorframe. They all stared at the door.

I was still looking outside.

The figure between the lights just stood there.

"Who the fuck is playing with us?" The Specialist asked, rage in his voice.

I knew he was covering his fear with anger.

I'd done it enough.

The Specialist moved around the desk, walking toward the Near Stairwell door. There was a scream of agony from the Day Room, followed by a shriek of feedback. The Specialist stopped, looking into the Day Room. From the Game Room came screeching as the electronic video game cabinets started howling with feedback.

Christ, Alfenwehr was pulling out all the stops.

A year or two ago, I would have told him not to touch the door, but I decided instead to simply dig my smokes out of my pocket.

The Specialist turned away from the Game Room door and walked toward the Near Stairwell door, reaching out with trembling fingers as I lit my cigarette.

When I snapped the lighter shut he jerked, his fingers coming back, his head swiveling around so he could glare at me.

"You're about to violate the rules," I warned him.

The banging increased and from down Titty Territory came another scream.

"Fuck you and your rules," he snapped, reaching forward and grabbing the door handle. I could see his arm shake from the force battering at the heavy door. He yanked on the handle, whipping the door opened. Wind shrieked, sounding like a gut-shot horse, swirling around him. He vanished for a second in snow flurries and ice chips that whirled into the CQ Area.

The stairwell was dark.

He was standing there, covered in frost, as the tiny snowflakes danced in the dim light of the CQ Area.

There was nothing in front of him.

A low evil chuckle came from the darkness.

"Who's in there," He yelled into the darkness. I rolled my shoulder, moving around the CQ Desk, my leg dragging.

everyone knows that boots cause money

Another low evil chuckle. The lizard lifted up the plastic shield from a big red button.

"Come out of there!" The Specialist bellowed out.

I moved up behind him, reaching for him. The lizard's tail swished as he put two long fingers on the button.

"I'm telling you, come out of there right now or we'll fuck you up!" He shouted.

I paused, reaching for him, my fingertips centimeters from his folded collar. The lizard pressed lightly on the button and I felt the cool trickle of adrenaline down my spine.

There was another chuckle. Low, dark, full of decaying mirth, that slithered out of the dark stairwell and wound through the CQ Area, making the shaved hairs on the back of my neck try to stand up. A shadow moved in the darkness of the stairwell.

My muscles were trembling and my left thigh began to ache. The lizard's tail stopped swishing.

The Specialist began to tense, readying to take a step.

Hot burning cold spread from my right shoulder joint, almost taking my breath away.

The lizard slapped the button.

...NOW...

Out of the darkness lunged pale shape in tattered BDU's, eyes dark pits of malachite menace, teeth broken and jagged in a mouth made into an insane grin by the corners tearing up into the cheeks, long pale arms extending past frayed frost and mud rimed cuffs, fingers too long and terminating in sharpened bone.

My hand closed on his collar, a muscle in my back burning as I lifted him off the ground and yanked him back. The Private screamed from behind the counter. Those talons of sharpened finger bone that protruded from frostbite blackened flesh, replacing the fingernails, sliced out toward the Specialist's face.

The nametag visible, across from the US ARMY above his left breast pocket.

TANDY

The talons swished by his face, trailing black ice crystals in their wake. The longest finger found flesh, caught, and sliced downward as I yanked the Specialist back, throwing him behind me and standing up straight to my full six foot height, my chest out, shoulders back. The Specialist squawked as he flew backwards and landed on his ass.

The lizard saw the targeting board go live and hissed in excitement and hate.

The figure in the doorway straightened up, hissing at me, cold spittle freezing in midair to bounce across the tile like vile BB's.

I stared into those glittering chunks of black ice set in eyesockets of frost-bitten blackened and bruised flesh as the Specialist slid on the ass of his BDU's and thumped against the CQ counter.

Stared down at him.

"Tandy," I growled.

He hissed again and I could feel the wave of cold waft from his jaws to make the skin of my chest tingle and ache. My nipples pinched sharply, turning into a dull ache.

My hand went out, grabbing the edge of the heavy door.

Tandy began to crouch.

I tightened my grip on the door.

I knew better than to look for human precursor movements. There was no way to use his eyes for tells.

There, at his feet.

Frost tendrils began snaking out from beneath the mud smeared and ice clotted black recruit boots on Tandy's feet.

The lizard screeched and slapped the button again.

Tandy lunged.

I slammed the door as hard as I could, putting my back and hips into it, feeling that muscle in my back go from aching to a red hot line of pain along my spine.

There was a thump that made mortar puff out from around the door frame, which squealed as it shifted in the cinderblocks. An inhuman screech of rage from the other side of the door with the thump and I felt the side of my face jerk up in a savage grin.

"LIKE THAT, FUCKER?" I yelled. I took a half step back.

The lizard tensed, pushing the button down another click.

More adrenaline cold fire down my spine. My stomach twisted, my muscles thrummed with power as ATP production shifted into high gear.

The door burst open.

About two feet before my boot slammed into it. Something slammed into the door as the force of my kick powered into the door, kinetic energy reversing the movement of the door, enough strength in the kick to overpower the impact from the other side.

Something snapped in my leg brace, slicing my cheek, bouncing off my cheekbone, flying to the side, and clicking as it bounced off the tempered glass of the airlock.

The door slammed back into the frame as the Specialist scrambled to his feet.

A loud screech of black inhuman rage from the other side of the door.

The screech echoed from outside.

The Private was cursing. The Specialist was cursing.

I turned at the waist, my hand whipping under my BDU top, my fingertips finding the hilt of the first of what was in the flat nylon carrier at the small of my back.

My fingertips closed around tempered surgical steel, what I wanted sliding smoothly from the nylon.

I was still turning, my hand coming out from behind my back.

The pale yellow light gleamed from what was held between my fingertip as my arm extended. My fingertips opened, releasing what they held. It spun end over end, so slowly to my own senses, the light dancing and gleaming on the metal.

The Specialist had blood on his lower lip from where he'd bit his tongue, his mouth open as he bellowed in fear, shock, and surprise. The Private had dried blood on his pencil-thin mustache, his eyes wide in his dark face, his scream loud. The Staff Sergeant was watching intently.

The leaf bladed throwing knife smacked, point first, into the Staff Sergeant's forehead, burying to the stem-like handle.

The noise all suddenly stopped.

The Staff Sergeant stood there, staring at the three of us.

His flesh paled, his eyes becoming more shadowed as he lifted his arms like he was being crucified. The skin of his forehead split in a cross-pattern from where the blade had sunk into his skull. The skin split at his fingertips, sharpened bone sliding out as his blackened fingernails fell to the floor.

"You will all die here," the Staff Sergeant croaked.

"EYES RIGHT!" I bellowed.

The Private and the Specialist acted out of spinal reflex to the parade ground command, turning their faces right.

The Private got his arm up.

The Staff Sergeant exploded into black frost.