"I'd learned early to deal with pain.
My childhood was enough pain that
I was removed from my parent's home
in 1978.
But Alfenwehr was ready to teach me all
new heights of pain."

The blue eyes stared at us, hugely round and pushed into the face of the snowman, who's smile mocked us with good cheer. The wet strip was a strip of uniform, too dark for water, which glittered in the light.

It hadn't been here before we'd headed for the motor pool.

"Let's go." Nagle said, her voice only a little unsteady. I looked at the snowman's face again and swallowed around a huge lump in my throat. "Quietly." she hissed.

She led the way into the hallway, moving slowly, shining her light carefully on the walls, on the floor, and on the ceiling.

Bomber and I edged by it, the blue eyes staring at us as we went by, surrounded by pink snow.

...human eyes...

Icicles hung from the suspended ceiling and from the plastic covering the fluorescent light fixtures.

Bomber suddenly fell against the wall and vomited, everything he'd eaten the day before coming up in a steaming rush. Bile splashed on the wall and the floor, steaming in the cold, and he started to fold forward.

I rushed forward and grabbed him by the back of his coveralls, pulling him to his feet.

"Come on, John, keep moving." I whispered.

"I'm really hurt, Ant." He moaned as I threw his arm over my shoulder. "Goddamn it, it fucking figures. Double digit midget and some nut-case hits me with an axe."

That axe had hit him hard, he'd gotten his arms in the way and managed to half catch the axe handle, he'd folded around it and bled away some of the force, and the Kevlar had kept the bit from ripping into him, but I'd seen that swing. That swing had been a man-killer, and I was surprised that it hadn't just ripped through him anyway.

Nagle stayed just in front us, sometimes looking back, as we took forever to stumble halfway down the hallway.

...just a few more steps...

My head was swimming, and blood kept dripping from my face, spattering on the tiles as we walked. John got heavier and heavier, leaning on me more and more, his breathing becoming labored as we stumbled down the hallway. Nagle had to hold the door at the mid-way point open for us so I didn't drop Bomber as we moved through it.

...just a few more steps...

"You all right, Ant?" Nancy asked. I nodded. "John, you OK?" John just groaned, nodding slightly. "Come on, boys, we're almost there, stuff it up and drive on."

...just a few more steps...

Finally we were at the door, and Nagle knocked on it and waited. She knocked again, this time harder, and still we waited.

Footsteps thudded above us, heavy deliberate thuds that went from behind us toward the other end of the building.

A scream echoed down the hall, the wind making my eyes water.

The doors that divided the hallway in half were open somehow, or the stairwell door was wedged open. That was the only way the wind could be that strong. I squinted at the doors, but it didn't help me see through the darkness.

"Who's out there?" Came a voice.

Hernandez.

"It's Nagle, Stillwater, and Bomber. Open up, Bomber's hurt." She said.

There was a moment of silence, and then the locks to the door snapped loudly in the darkness of the hallway. The door creaked open, and I could see Hernandez staring at first Nagle and then Bomber and me.

Bomber took that second to throw up again.

"Hurry up, there's someone out there." Hernandez whispered, stepping back and motioning us frantically.

"No shit." Nagle sneered, pushing Bomber and I through the door.

Hernandez's face was blurry in the flashlight, and if I moved my head too fast I kept getting sparks shooting across my vision. Even the dim light from his flashlight was bright and hurt my eyes.

We staggered in and I heard the door lock behind us. I pulled John into the living area of the barracks room, past the bathroom and wall lockers that were built into the walls.

People were huddled in small groups, and on the bed Lewis was still burrowed under the covers with Carter. One of them was snoring, and part of me dimly knew that it was a good sign.

"What happened? Where have you been?" Hernandez asked, his voice quiet. Nagle ignored him, walking across the room and grabbing the handle of the radiator and cranking it.

There was a loud knocking noise that seemed to start a thousand feet below us and slowly work its way up to the radiator, which trembled and shook as insane howler monkeys beat on the pipes with clubs.

"What the fuck?" Jacobs asked, shining his light in Bomber's and my faces.

"I'll explain in a minute." Nagle said, "Hernandez, get a wet washcloth, I need to clean off their faces." She came over and grabbed my arm. "Stillwater, Bomber, I need the two of you to sit down on the bed." She gently guided us over to the edge of the bed that Daniels was sleeping on. We sat down and Nagle prodded Daniels till he sleepily scooted away from us.

Daniels...

Hernandez came back and Nagle took the washcloth from him and handed him her flashlight. "Keep it on Stillwater's face."

Lewis...

"Jesus, what happened to him?" Hernandez asked.

Jacobs...

"He got his ass kicked in the stairwell after someone hit Bomber in the stomach with an axe." Nagle snapped, starting to wipe off my face.

Hernandez...

She pulled down my lower lip and swore. "You've got a bunch of broken teeth, Ant." She told me, wiping my lip. "Goddamn it, you're bleeding everywhere, baby, and I can't get that fucking grease off of you."

"An axe? They hit Bomber with an axe?" Jacobs asked, looking over at Bomber, who was still leaning against me with his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was moaning softly to himself and rocking back and forth, and I put one arm around him and pulled him close.

"Yeah." Nagle answered, her voice flat and cold. "Someone tried to kill him."

Carter...

"Who?" Hernandez asked.

"How the fuck should I know? Whoever it was beat the shit out of Ant, too." She stopped in the middle of wiping off my forehead. "Hey, Dez, shine the light here." Hernandez did what she asked and she leaned forward, one finger reaching out to touch something that seemed to feel like it was embedded in my brain, it felt like she was poking her finger in there and rooting around.

"Goddamn, Stillwater, you have a tooth stuck in your forehead, man." Jacobs said, coming over and standing next to Nagle.

"Bastard kicked me..." I slurred. The whole room kept tilting, but something was wrong. Something important. The lizard kept trying to reset his boards, get a clearer picture of what was going on, but all he was getting was static. In front of me both Nagles were scrubbing off my face, two heads and four arms connected to one too-wide body.

"I know, honey." She said, then turned to Hernandez, "Wake Lewis up, get his sewing kit and see if he has any rubbing alcohol for spit shining his boots in the bathroom." Hernandez nodded, and she went back to wiping my face, carefully circling my nose. "And see if he has a Leatherman, neither of the boys is in shape to tell me which of them has the Leatherman stashed where."

"Stomach hurts." Bomber groaned, then leaned forward and retched loudly, bringing up only strings of bile. Nagle shined the flashlight into the small puddle he made and sighed with relief. It was a clear yellowish color.

My stomach rumbled in agreement, and before I could stop myself or warn her, I leaned forward and threw up on the floor, splashing Nagle where she knelt in front of me. I only heaved a few times, and it made my head swim, with bright sparks across my vision and I almost passed out from the pain in my head.

"Oh baby." Nagle said, reaching her arms out and gathering both of us up. She was still dressed in the coveralls, the cold dampness feeling good against my face. I was aware I was shivering cold, but somehow was light and fuzzy warm. My head rang, and my thoughts were jumbled.

"What the fuck?" Daniels asked, rolling over. He shoved at my back. "Get the fuck off my bed."

I collapsed against Nagle, boneless, closing my eyes. My head hurt really bad.

"Love you, Nancy." I muttered, trying to get one hand up to grope her breast.

"I know, Ant." She replied, easily deflecting my hand. It was the answer she always gave me when I told her I loved her.

"Get up, Daniels, Stillwater and Bomber are fucked up." Jacobs said. "Christ, he's bleeding everywhere."

I felt Daniels moving around behind me, every movement making my skull hurt and ring. I cried out in pain as the bed rocked, and both Bomber and I retched again.

"Help me lay them down." Nagle ordered, and I felt hands on me. "We gotta get them out of these clothes. You two strip them, I gotta get out of these wet clothes."

"I've got some blankets." Hernandez said, and I felt someone unzipping my clothing. I fought, briefly, crying out and trying to get the hands off of me.

I was trapped in the stairwell, fighting someone I couldn't see.

I felt lips against mine, and I opened my eyes to see Nagle kissing me, her eyes shut as her tongue grazed my lips. I let her strip my clothing away, marveling at how it felt like she had four or five hands. My boots were pulled off, and I was aware of her stripping off my wet socks and underwear.

She stopped kissing me and I pawed at the air, trying to get her back.

"Easy, Ant, I'll be there in a second, I gotta undress." She whispered huskily.

"Love you, Nancy." I muttered, my words mushy from swollen lips.

"I know, baby." She answered.

"He's got a really bad bruise on his stomach." Jacobs said, and my hands moved down, looking for the bruise they were talking about, and finding that I'd been stripped naked. I rubbed my stomach, looking for sore spots and trying to warm up my hands. Someone laid a warm blanket around me, and I shivered on the bed.

"Dammit, that axe must have hurt him worse than..." Nagle's voice trailed off into a purring noise and I squirmed under the blanket, feeling someone's hands on my stomach. There was silence for a moment, just a buzzing background noise, a thick noise that seemed to increase or decrease at random, but I knew it was important even if I didn't know what the noise was or why it was important. Someone's hand was on my erection, and it felt good as it slowly stroked. It brought up the memory of the last time I'd lain with Nancy, the way she felt in my hands, the way her body strained against mine, and the noises she'd made.

A sharp pain yanked me out of the memory of Nagle rubbing her breasts on my chest in the basement, and I tried to pull loose of the hands that were holding me, tried to pull my head loose from the pressure that was holding the side of my face against the bed. I got a hand free and swung blindly, feeling my fist connect against the guy I was fighting in the stairwell with.

I yelled at him, blindly swinging again and feeling my fist hit something in the darkness. I managed to get my left hand free for a moment, but the guy in the stairwell wrapped both hands around it a heartbeat before he managed to wrap both hands around my right hand. He pulled both of my hands down and pressed them against the stairs.

"Hold him still, goddammit!" someone screamed, their voice like jagged broken glass that ripped and tore at my eardrums and then lacerated my brain.

The pain stopped, and I tried to curl in a ball to cry. My mother had been beating me, and I'd managed to crawl under my bed where nobody could see me cry from the welts the belt had left on my back. The welts stung and burned from where she'd dumped saltwater on them to keep where the belt had dug too deep into my skin from bleeding. I knew I was crying, and hated myself for giving into the weakness, for giving her what she'd wanted, even if it was in the darkness under my bed where she couldn't see me.

Fuzzy warmth wrapped around me and dragged me down. It was like I was slipping into warm dark bathwater. I was tired, so tired, and my head was pounding dully. I could feel myself floating deeper and deeper into the water. There were loud noises around me, but they were distant, remote, just faint ripples in the warm water that surrounded me, cradled me, and drew me into its warmth depths. The lizard purred from where it was curled up in front of its little workstation.

You're dying, dumbass... My older brother's rough voice suddenly intruded.