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Feb 28th 2014 11:52pm

"Daemon," Aden says sitting next to me on the cold hard concrete sidewalk.  He sounds far away, voice echoing in the salty stale air.  "Daemon," he says again.  I turn my head  partially towards him, "Is this even going to work?" Aden asks in a shaky tone.

"I don't know." I sigh, exhaling loud and long.  I tighten my grip around the small metal rings in my hand and playfully tug at them, watching the wires they're attached to glitter in the moonlight while bouncing up and down.  "All I know is everything was so much simpler a few weeks ago." and it was.

I thought back to when this all started.  Two weeks ago, I was backpacking through Cleveland National Park just east of San Diego.  It's something I had been doing for a few years.  It allowed me to disconnect from everything and just be.  Some people deal with life by working out, or watching movies.  Some dealt by reading books or writing their feelings down, maybe listening to music.  That was all well and good for them, but none of it worked for me.  I just need to be away from everything, in the silence, in the dark.

After high school I bounced around between jobs here and there, not really sure of what I was going to do with my life.  Big surprise, real original right?  I was stuck in the world wondering what it all meant, swimming in a sea of confusion just like everyone else.  There wasn't really anything that I enjoyed enough to make a career out of, but to be honest, I hadn't really searched a lot either.  I floated through high school and just did what I needed to do.  I was smart, probably too smart for my own good and maybe that was the problem.  No motivation in school, I wasn't challenged at all and in turn it made me lazy.  I don't blame anyone for it.  Lord knows my parents gave me plenty of options growing up to branch out.  Baseball, soccer, basketball, I was never forced into anything, but if I expressed interest, they signed me up and I finished the year.  No half ass'in it.  Still, there was no real motivation that took hold.  Classes and test came easy, as long as there was some passing interest and I left my ears open enough to learn.  I got good grades, tested a 1300 on my SAT's back when 1600 was the max score.  I didn't see it as being a genius, and was never snide about it, but I was smart.  Smart enough to make something of myself.

Once again though, I didn't.  Just like high school, passing interest and general concern to my surroundings allowed me to be good at any job I decided to try out.  I was usually pushed along by my managers, told I could 'take their job in no time' but I didn't.  I just took that as a sign that it was time to move on.  Ten jobs in five years and I learned a lot.  After a while my parents started to drop comments about my direction in life, or lack thereof.  They offered up more stories about kids my age who were doing amazing things with their life.  Poli Sci graduates writing speeches for some supposedly important politician, journalist majors doing summer internships at CNN or the like, or the always popular high school jock turned caring physician.  I had to do something.  My parents were great, they loved me, and they didn't want to just come out and say 'Do something!', but their stories took hold.  I did need to do something.        

So I joined the military.  Nothing crazy, I didn't plan ahead for a career as a government employee, traipsing around all corners of the earth with an eighty pound pack.  I joined the National Guard, figured it'd be easy enough.  It was more of a challenge than I expected though.

 There was structure I wasn't used too, physical requirements I wasn't fond of, and regardless of what the comforting videos showed on the recruitment sites of understanding boot camp officers, always someone screaming in my face.  Looking back it was good, it did end up giving me some direction.

The physical stuff came easier and basic got me into more outdoor activities that I would've never tried otherwise.  I was unenthusiastic about life before I started, so I picked some bullshit, mickey mouse MOS like warehouse warden or something like that, followed by four other mediocre picks.  It turned out there's some small print in the contract you sign stating that MOS selection choices are just preferences.  I didn't get any of the jobs I picked.  Instead the powers that be, and by that I mean whoever finalizes the career selection, decided that military intelligence would be a good fit given my state testing and ASVAB scores.  As much as I was annoyed at first, they were right.  I'm analytical when I need to be and with structure and forced military drive my mind became focused.  I was finally great at something.  

It's all secrets in a sealed file somewhere, but I was great at my job.  Four years of service, two off and another two of reactivated service and I was done.  There wasn't much else I wanted to do in the military, it gave me some direction and taught me how to enjoy life.  My passion for outdoor survival grew, which will happen when your job consists of sitting at a computer all day, and I started backpacking.  I had some money set aside so I traveled for a bit, then finally settled in San Diego.  There was so much to do and some great hiking and backpacking land really close to the city.  Military money ran out and I needed a job so I looked into the National Parks service.  They only open up for hiring once every three years and it just so happened to be one of those years.  My military service granted me a little nudge above the other candidates and I became a Park Ranger.

There wasn't much to the job, mostly driving around in a truck and occasionally yelling at some misguided teens fooling around in the woods or doing stupid shit, but it got me outside.  It afforded me the chance to spend time in nature, get decent pay, and just settle down to enjoy the simpler parts of life.  I was content.  No.  I was happy.

Aden, my little brother by a few years, came out to visit me for my thirtieth birthday and never left.  He was still finding his way in the world and took various jobs in the service industry and caused trouble in his free time, but he was a good kid.  Genuine, kind, albeit sarcastic as hell, but a good kid.   

He always worried about me when I went backpacking into the woods alone, and would never let me leave the house without my spare emergency phone and an extra battery pack.  If I had my way, I'd pretty much stay away from technology at all costs.  Work made me carry a basic rugged phone with walkie talkie capabilities, but other than that I never carried one.  When Aden made me start taking one on backpacking trips in case of emergencies it became habit for him to yell at me for not having it on.  He always tried to check in on me.  I told him the battery wouldn't last the two or three days I was out, so he bought me an extra battery pack to solve the problem.  No excuses.

That day two weeks ago was still so vividly clear.  I could remember details when I needed to, and let other things float out of my memory like ash from a fire into the wind.  I learned that in intelligence.  Make space for the things that mattered and let the rest go, it was white noise.  I will always remember that day.  I hiked ten miles back to my car, and out of the woods I swung my bag onto the bed of my truck and pulled my emergency phone out of my pack to check for messages.  The first battery died (probably the first night) and I didn't care to put the other one in.  I figured I'd shoot my brother a text before leaving so he could stop worrying.

As I switched on the phone, it blew up with an array of notification sounds, one after the other for what seemed like a half hour.  Thirty missed calls, twenty voicemails, and seventy five text messages.  Where are you?  Answer your phone.  I need to talk to you!  It's getting crazy over here!  All hell is breaking loose!  The messages went on.  Looking back in the direction of the city, I had seen smoke rising to the sky since yesterday, I just assumed it was brush fires.  It was dry season after all.

I immediately tried calling Aden, but the call wouldn't connect.  I kept getting the same We're Sorry...message over and over.  It didn't stop me from trying though, the messages came through, stuck in the system or not, it had to still be working.  I pushed my gear into the bed of my truck, slammed the gate shut and stuck the phone onto my steering wheel with the velcro I had glued to the both of them, and kept calling.  I've never driven so fast back to the city in my life, or ever for that matter.  I kept calling and kept getting busy signals.  I tried sending a text, but it wouldn't go through. 

As I came around the base of the mountain out of the national park I could see more smoke rising from various points of the city.  What the hell was going on?  Was it a terrorist attack?  Asking questions was useless, I needed to get back to our house as soon as possible.

As I drove on the 8 towards San Diego, the city looked dead.  No movement, in the streets or highways.  There were two military helicopters circling the city near the beach.  Our house was in Lakeside, north east of downtown by about twenty minutes.  The landscape was more of what we were used to on the east coast.  Land, trees, wildlife, but still only a short drive away from downtown and the beach or the National Parks.  

Five minutes after getting off of the 8, I pulled up our street.  There was still no activity, but I would occasionally catch a person here or there peeking out from behind their window curtains.  Luckily, Aden's truck was still in our driveway and as I drove up to the house he came running out the front door.  

"Daemon!" he screamed, running out and barreling into me with arms open.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask.  I pushed him back to see his face after a second of hugging.

"They don't know, they just started killing people, they locked down downtown."

"Who started killing people? Terrorists?" Aden looked worried.  It looked as though he wasn't sure how to explain the situation.

"Come on, come inside." he said nervously pulling my arm.

The house was a mess, no surprise there, he didn't even keep it clean when he knew I was coming home.  He took a right into the living room and motioned to the couch in front of the TV.  "Sit, I'll show you." He walked over to the large flat screen TV and turned it on.  The TV was Aden's, I didn't have much use for it.  "I started to Tivo all this shit as it went down this morning, figured it'd be easier than explaining it to people." he pulled up the recently recorded list and moved up to a news recording dated this morning.  

A male reporter showed up on the screen, short black hair, mid forties, standing in front of the the sand on Ocean Beach.  "It's unclear as to what the man is doing on the beach, but he's certainly started to gather a crowd of curious onlookers."

Aden sat down in the recliner to the left of the couch and pointed at the TV.  "He just came out of no where, just walked out of the waves they say."  I didn't turn to acknowledge my brother, my eyes were fixed on the TV.  My eyes were fixed on the large muscular man dressed in Sparta War gear on the beach.  The reporter continued on the left of the screen, as the right of the screen showed the man in the background.  "He showed up about an hour ago, walking out of the waves and onto the beach in full Sparta War gear just like that which was worn by actors in the hit movie 300.  Red cape, sandals, metal helmet, shield, spear and a short sword attached to belt of his leather looking speedo.  People are wondering whether or not this is some kind of viral advertising campaign for the sequel, which is set to be released later this summer.  After exiting the water, the man who is quite tall, close to seven feet, walked about thirty feet into the dry sand and stood at attention.  He has not moved since exiting the water and now people are beginning to congregate around him as they come out for their morning activities."

People were indeed starting to gather.  In the background I could see people on their morning runs, and dog walks stopping to see what all the commotion was, then just staring in awe at the massive man.  His forearms alone looked like they were the size of my thighs, and dried salt from the sea water made his abs glistened in the morning sun.  "What the hell is this?" I asked, turning to Aden.  

"Watch, watch!" he motioned quickly towards the TV.

The Soldier reached around and pulled the large metal shield off of his back.  The video shook as the camera man motioned for the reported to turn around.  "It looks like the Soldier is moving.  He's armed his shield, pulled out his sword and crouched down into an attack position."  The Soldier's stare, his eyes were blank.  No emotion, he just glared forward looking like a larger than life statue.  Some curious young man in wife beater shirt with khaki shorts and sandals moved forward from the crowd surrounding the soldier, walked directly in front of him.  The young man looked like a midget compared to the Soldier.  "Oh, it looks like someone has become curious enough to try and talk to the actor." the reporter said, glancing back at the camera as he did.  That's when all hell broke loose.

Emotionless and without warning, the Soldier brought his sword down onto the young mans left clavicle with such force that the blade wedged halfway into his lung, it's tip sticking out of the mans back, perpendicular to his waist.  The swing happened with such speed and precision; it was over in a fraction of a second, so fast that the movement was blurred on camera.  A few seconds later, everyone in the crowd realized that this wasn't a publicity stunt as the Soldier pulled his sword from the man and blood shot everywhere.  People started screaming and running.  The news reporter looked back at the camera and rolled his finger at the cameraman to suggest that he should keep rolling.

The Soldier started attacking more people around him, cutting off arms and legs with ease due to his size and strength.  In all the chaos a young woman tried to run behind the Soldier, but he snapped his arm out and caught her by the face with his massive palm.  He dropped the sword into the sand, brought his other arm around and closed his fist, slamming the back of her neck.  I could hear a faint snapping sound on the video as she fell lifeless to the ground.  The camera crew scrambled and the video was hard to make out, but the reporter was trying to get a better angle on the action.  The report ran over to the steps for the pier on the left and the cameraman followed close behind catching flashed shots of the carnage as he did.  

As they stabilized the camera on the rail of the pier, the soldier roughly fifty feet away and twenty feet below, two police officers ran onto the beach from the street to the right.  They were screaming at the soldier guns drawn on the approach.  The soldier continued moving fluidly through the chaos swiping his blade and shield at frantic people on the beach.  Both police fired, emptying their clips at the muscular death machine.  Some of the bullets bounced off of the shield, others made contact with the Soldier who finally turned his attention to the police.  At least five bullets tore into the Soldier's skin but it didn't faze him at all.  There was no blood either, just small dark holes in his muscular skin where the rounds made contact.  This was the first time in the video that I had seen the Soldier convey any kind of emotion and unfortunately for the Police, it was rage.

He charged the Police with his shield and sword as they attempted to reload their pistols in shock.  He made contact with one officer, knocking him back into the air ten feet with his shield.  The other officer pulled out his taser gun and fired it at the Soldiers face.  The prongs stuck into his cheek, and crackled as the office held down the trigger.  The Soldier reached up and pulled the prongs out, then shoved them into the top of the officers head, through his hat.  The officer seized before falling to the ground and the Soldier kneeled down ramming his short sword through the man's chest to finish the job.  

The camera shuddered and then turned to the reporter whose body was draped over the railing of the pier with a spear sticking out of his back.  The camera lowered a bit to reveal a spear sticking through the cameramans stomach as well, then fell to the sand below.  The video feed flickered as it showed another Soldier, just as big and dressed exactly the same pull his spear out of the cameramans back.  Then the recording stopped.

That's two weeks ago today, and we still don't know what the hell is going on, but we have figured out a few things about them.  We don't know why they are here or what they want other than carnage and we don't know how they can breathe underwater, but we do know they can be killed.  

"Daemon," Aden says quietly shaking my arm.  He know's I'm prone to trailing off in my head sometimes.  "I think they're coming."

I tighten the grip on the metal rings in both hands and glance down at the screen of my smart phone.  It's currently tapped into five different nanny cams that we had set up on the surrounding buildings and pier at the end of Newport Avenue in Ocean beach.  They are all pointing towards the water.   Visibility isn't fantastic, but the Soldiers are big enough for us to pick out.  There is a small, three foot concrete wall between the sidewalk and the sand that we are crouching behind.  The water is about two hundred feet behind us.  They always came out of the water at night after that first day.  Midnight, like clockwork every night.  We think it's some kind of fear tactic, the first day they showed us what they're capable of, and  after that, they just come in the night to kill, crippling the city with fear.

Staring at my phone with such intensity that I fear I'll crack the screen, I see a figure break the reflection of the moonlight on the surface of the water.  Then another, and another, followed by twelve more making fifteen in total.  This fits with our theory.  They add a soldier to the group each night.  We hadn't been able to surveil the beach every night since the first incident, hell we didn't even know it was continuing until large amounts of people started dying each night, but it fits.  Two the first day to make a statement, and now fourteen days later, fifteen in total.  There was fourteen last night, and ten five days ago.  Once we started to see that the number of dead was growing exponentially each night and the wounds were consistent with the kills from that first day, we knew it had to be them.  

I tap the earpiece of my coms unit.  "OK everyone, we've got fifteen total just like we predicted.  Remember, when the count reaches zero, close your eyes and plug your ears and pull.  Give it five seconds, then get off your asses and get some revenge.  Back of the neck where the spinal cord meets the brain stem.  Signal understood?"  I look down the concrete wall to see fifty men meet my thumbs up with their own.  

Aden leans over and whispers to me, "This should be fun."    

I put my finger up to my lips and he presses his back to the wall and grips the rings in his hand tighter, tensing the wires they're attached too.  

We had learned over the last few weeks, through painful experience, that these soldiers aren't only bigger, stronger and faster than us, but their senses are more attuned to their surroundings.  They can hear the smallest noise over great distances, and have fantastic eyesight.  They also seem to be able to pick out faint smells whether it be body sweat or deodorant.  We had the upper hand near the beach, the waves messed with their hearing, and we all rolled in sand from head to toes to cover our scent.  The only thing left was sight, and we are about to take care of that as well.

Aden points to the phone and I can see the Soldiers approaching our mark.  I tap my coms unit, sending a computerized ten second countdown to each of the mens earpieces.  Looking down the line, I can see all of them tightening their grips on the small metal rings with one hand and covering their eyes with the other.  They all have their earplugs in place as well.

The countdown reached one and we all violently pull the metal rings as hard as we can and dozens of flash bang grenades ring out in succession along the concrete brick wall.  This is the first time we heard the Soldier cry out in pain.  It is a high pitch screech, followed by a deep low growl that made me think we are going to be facing bears once we jumped the wall.  Everyone down the line is struck still by fear.  I turn to them and shout "Now!" into the coms unit.  Their anger is reinvigorated.  That 'now' has come to represent the fiery revenge that is sitting deep in our guts.  That 'now' represents the family members and friends that we lost over the last two weeks.  That 'now' represents 10,400 people of this great city dead, because these bastards all claim one hundred lives a piece, each night they attack our city.  I jump over the wall sword in hand to remind these vile fifteen murderers that this is our city and I will do whatever it takes to defend it.

 *THANKS FOR READING* :-)

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