Children Of Fiends Read online

  Anyone with a gun was firing at the thing as it marched forward on heavily thumping yet clickety legs that alternately drove themselves into the decking or grabbed onto the rigging. The head whipped back and forth, tracking while explosive rounds poured from the shotgun. The remainder of MacAfee’s special-forces team was particularly heavily armed, with Chief Hernandez firing grenades while screaming like a berserker. All for naught. It was quickly evident that they lacked the firepower to halt the things advance. The crew on the Eagle continued to hold their fire, instead taking pleasure watching their huge black arachnid lay waste to the opposing deck.

  With Burrows lost to the frigid sea, Dean grabbed the helm while Mr. Kile wrestled with the remaining big gun; the other Bushmaster was not set up for sweeping its own deck. Eliza was hyperventilating and nearly overcome with the twin’s combination of emotional thrill and abject terror. As she lay on the deck trying to become one with the wood, she noticed that the machine’s grappling cable was just dragging on the deck, the hook dangling in the rigging. The retracting winch had been damaged by Gomez’s fire. As explosive shells sent splinters and chunks of the wood decking flying into the air, she looked at Dean who saw what she saw. Before he could yell no, she was up and running for the mizzenmast’s ratlines. She quickly climbed and grabbed the grappling hook that was still tethered to the drone. As she struggled to disentangle it, the machine, as though with eyes in the back of its head, turned and stared up at her. Faster than she could react, the machine grabbed hold of the loose cable and yanked the hook out of Eliza’s hand. She lost her balance and tumbled just as the thing opened fire, the explosive slugs passing harmlessly through the space where she had just been. She hit the deck hard, her head bouncing off the teak. Dean threw the wheel hard over, causing the Ginger Girl to peel away from the Eagle. He bolted forward, grabbed the hook as it skittered across the planks. With a screaming heave he chucked it as hard as he could. The tool flew in an arc, dragging its cable behind it, and snagged in a davit holding a lifeboat off the rear quarterdeck. The line snapped taught. One moment, the menacing machine was laying waist to the Ginger Girl and in the next it was dragged over the blubber-rendering house, smashed into the gunwale and up and over the rail into the sea. The Eagle responded: its stern 30mm canon raking the Ginger Girl, punching holes in her sails and splitting her spars. Then just as quickly the shooting stopped, the sudden silence only overcome by the creaking of the two ships as a three-foot swell moved them in gentle unison. Only a shattered spar bumped against the Ginger Girl’s foremast, keeping time like a lazy metronome. Several of the crew dared to look up and saw Hansel and Gretel holding hands at the stern rail. The pucks were looking in the direction of the Eagle as the crew of that ship suddenly stepped to the rails as one and heaved their weapons overboard. Like robots, two groups of men disconnected the 30mms and tossed them over as well.

  Without having to be told, the Ginger Girl’s crew flew into action, climbing the rigging or grabbing hold of the various sheets to set their sails for the wind. The Eagle continued to coast with her own momentum as the two sterns quickly made distance on each other. Dean scanned the enemy. The would-be pirate’s faces were stricken with terror. Several were crying. Others had soiled themselves. Dean called out to her captain, “Asshole. What did you mean by The Shore?”

  The captain had no words to reply with. Instead, he pulled a large knife from a scabbard on his belt. He made a move to cut his own throat, but was interrupted by a still dazed Eliza, who yelled, “No! Hansel. I know that’s you.”

  The puck licked his sharp teeth and smiled.

  The Eagle’s captain dropped the knife and fell to his knees in grief.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Second Guesses

  With the light failing and no hope for safe passage to a shore anchorage, Dean ordered the Ginger Girl to ease up to a vast iceberg that was little affected by the lessening but still steady breeze. They dropped anchor on a submerged portion of the great slab and set to work repairing damaged sails and cleaning blood and body parts off the deck as well as the cabin below where Kneedham had been more or less liquefied by explosive shotgun rounds. There, they discovered the ham radios that they were counting on to stay in touch with home, were destroyed.

  When the light faded to twilight, the twins let go of their grip on the stricken sailors of the Eagle, the barque still drifting on the horizon. Within minutes her sails could be seen rising and she made way in a westerly direction, with no intent to angle back toward their intended victims.

  The crew of the Ginger Girl labored while in awe of the puck’s powerful gift. Though everyone was grateful for the twin’s intervention, there was an equal measure of fear and mistrust at such power. It wasn’t just because their helmets offered night vision that they now steadfastly kept them strapped on. Only those who had spent the most time around the alien creatures remained comfortable enough to keep their helmets off.

  Except for Jamesbonds, there were remarkably no other wounded. Bishop, the ships doctor, treated his shoulder where the lead shot had gone clean through the muscle leaving a surprisingly minor wound. Corporal Kelly, whose kit included a prep for fast healing of minor flesh wounds, offered the patch while keeping well back from the spilled Halflie blood. As for Eliza, she had a knot on her forehead where it had hit the deck, but it didn’t really hurt much. Given the savagery of the assault, everyone felt extremely fortunate.

  As they were being patched up, Jamesbonds said to Eliza, “What a brave lady you are, Ma’am.”

  “You are brave yourself, sir.”

  “Oh. You can’t call me sir, Ma’am. I’m just a harpoon man.”

  “You’re a brave harpoon man, Mr. Boonmee. Please call me Eliza.”

  “I’m happy to have you on our ship, Eliza ma’am.”

  Eliza smiled and her eye caught that of Captain Dean who stood near the helm, Ensign Palmer now at the wheel. Dean raised an eyebrow at her and gave a slight shake of the head. The implication was clear; he was both impressed and perhaps disturbed by her bold move.

  Last rights were given for the dead and their remains given to the sea. Then the crew sat down to a heavy meal, craving calories after such an extended adrenaline rush. While the watch was set, the crew whispered dread among themselves; their mission was clearly doomed. Dean and Sanders ate with their guests in the bullet-riddled cabin that was the officer’s mess. As a precaution, MacAfee and Blakely ate MREs at a separate table and drank from their own canteens. At the captain’s request, Cookie poured them all a stiff belt of Nantucket moonshine and they mostly sat in silence as they sipped from their glasses or canteens. Finally Sanders said, “Crew’s shook up, Cap, but I’ll wager they’re still solid. Dealt with crazier than that. Just that… first day out and all. Rough start.”

  Everyone nodded in sober agreement. It occurred to Cookie as he topped them off, that the leadership was as shaken as the crew. He’d ask the captain about giving a ration of grog later. Try to take the edge off the shattered nerves. Dean snapped out of his own reverie and smiled at Sanders. “I hear you, George. What I’m concerned about is how many others are out there like the Eagle. What the hell is The Shore?”

  MacAfee cleared his throat. “Those drones are not the work of folks just getting by.”

  “Drones?” asked Eliza.

  “First time I’ve seen one up close, but yes, Sentinel drones. They were part of a Carnegie Mellon effort to make a drone that could take on the Fiend epidemic. I don’t think it ever got implemented. They certainly weren’t some fanciful Roman centurion thing like that, but the spider legs I wouldn’t forget. We’d built the wall by the time they might have been perfected. Pittsburgh is on the unknown side of the Terminus now of course. Obviously someone made off with something, maybe augmented the design.”

  Wen said, “Well, after the heroics of this one here.” He pointed at Eliza. “And that little dude with the ax, and then the puck mind-fuck, pardon my French, and of course you
Captain, the word will get out to avoid us.”

  Dean looked at Eliza and asked, “The pucks. Hansel and Gretel. How many people can they do that to at once?”

  “I couldn’t say. I’ve never seen them do that before. I mean with so many. I spoke to them afterwards. All they said was that they were stronger when they held hands. It’s a line of sight thing mostly, but it’s not like you can hide behind a tree, or a mast. If they have already had a glimpse of you, unless you can get out of sight and move quickly away from the area, they can do that to you. Obviously the people on that ship weren’t going anywhere.”

  When they finished their meal, MacAfee, as the overall mission commander, called it a night. The group began to file out of the room and Dean asked Eliza to stay behind a moment. She stopped and stood by the table, her hand on the back of a chair.

  Dean said, “Take a seat, if you don’t mind.” She sat crossing her legs, waiting for more. He took a long sip from his glass and scrunched his nose. “You were very brave today.”

  “So were you.”

  “It’s my job to be brave. It’s your job to look after our pucks. You’ll forgive me if I request that you not be so brave again.”

  She was surprised, not expecting condescension. In an instant she felt her heart shift. Whatever attraction she may have felt for this man simply melted away. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath and opened them again, startled as Dean poured two fingers into her glass, leaving the thermos open on the table. She set the cup down. “Captain…”

  “Call me Stewart when we’re not in front of the crew.”

  “Captain. Everyone on this mission is brave just to be part of it. We are all going to be repeatedly challenged with life or death decisions. If we find ourselves under dire circumstances and in a position to protect each other, none of us can be allowed to hesitate for a moment. I was in that position today. So were you.”

  Dean smiled widely. “I appreciate that, but you’re wrong.”

  She felt her face flush. “I’m not wrong.”

  “Elizaandra, you are the only person between us and your test subjects and whatever they did to the crew on that ship. If at some point, they choose not to be our friends, it is you who may make the difference between life and death or God knows what. This is not an argument. This is the way it is. We cannot afford to have you killed. Is that clear?”

  Eliza set her glass down and stood. “I hear you. I respect your point of view. And for the most part I agree with you. However, today was an exception. I think you’ll agree that we were within seconds of losing that battle and therefore everything this mission stands for. We don’t know what the pirate’s intentions were, but clearly they were lethal. Had we not all acted when we did, the way we did, the tide very much may have turned against us. Gretel and Hansel were no use to us against that machine. Whoever designed it made it well suited to deal with pucks too.” She stood back from the table. “There may be other exceptions. I will continue to take action if the moment not only warrants it, but requires it.”

  As she turned toward the door Dean said, “Elizaandra.” She had opened the door, but allowed him a pause. He continued, “This may be a case where we will have to agree to disagree.”

  She shut the door again to retain some privacy and looked him square in the eye. “Captain Dean, I believe our business is finished. I would prefer it if you referred to me as Ms Sherr or if you must, Eliza. Elizaandra is reserved.” She opened the door again and let herself out. “Good night.”

  Dean sat at the table with his eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. A moment passed and Cookie let himself in, saying, “I’ll be getting the dishes, Cap, so you can retire.”

  Chief Hernandez was a wreck. She barely saw or heard the voice of Lance Corporal Katherine Kelly, who was doing her best to console her, something that KK had never been good at.

  Sergeant Green decided to use the opportunity to express his disapproval. “Been saying all along, Chief. You can’t shit where you eat. You can’t fuck a soldier you rack with, or eat one in yours and Gomez’s case. Get it? Where you eat?”

  Hernandez launched herself at the man and landed two good punches before being pulled off by Kelly. Green wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. “Feel better?”

  “Fuck you, Sergeant.”

  “No. Thank you. Having you weep over my dead carcass doesn’t turn me on.”

  Dez tried to launch herself at Green again, while KK put her into a full nelson, saying, “Shut it, Tim. Asshole. You and I rack together and you’ve sure as shit tried to fuck me.”

  The Special Forces team had been given a small cabin in the forecastle. The dead Corporal Gomez’s Rucksack sat in the corner still unpacked. Hernandez found herself unconsciously stroking it as she let a few tears stream down her face.

  Despite what she’d said to Green, KK was pissed off at Dez. She wouldn’t say it now, but she agreed with Green full on. She’d nearly gone to MacAfee before they even started out on this thing except the Chief kept saying “You got my 6, right KK?” Dragging her into the stupid love conspiracy. Now it was moot. She was pissed that Gomez was dead, pissed that it fucked up Hernandez and pissed that on day one they were down to just the three of them. Most of the crew had seen some kind of action during Omega. Kelly was just a little girl then, but none of them had any dealings with The Children until now. Only after seeing what happened to the crew of the Eagle had the crew truly gotten how fucked everyone would be if those fucking devils decided to come across the Terminus. Kelly and her team had mission experience spying on the clans that were at the edge of the Settled U.S. These kids, pucks, Hansel and Gretel. Stupid names. Whatever. They were like innocent sheltered school babes. The Children out there were something all together different. She wanted to slap the tears off of Hernandez’s face. The very reason that relations were forbidden in the Army was coming true before her eyes. Hernandez was a mess and KK could tell that she would likely stay that way. She’d seen it before - some soldiers, despite massive training, didn’t do well when a close friend was killed. Became almost instantly demoralized. Just like combat, there was no way of knowing how you’d react until it happened to you. Well fuck that! She stood and slapped Dez across the face. With pure reflex built on real combat and intensive relentless training, Hernandez kicked Kelly’s legs out from under her, and then they were at each other’s throats. Like two ultimate fighters they used every method available to them to get an advantage, screaming, kicking, punching, head butting, eye gouging – Green cheering them on, loving the bitch on bitch violence. Bam! The door to the small room was flung open, MacAfee stepping inside. The soldiers leapt to their feet and stood at attention. The colonel looked at them hard. Hernandez had a trickle of blood roll down her cheek. He looked down at Gomez’s rucksack then back at his soldiers. “There’s just three of you now. I need you to focus this wasted energy on training the crew. Understood?”

  The soldiers offered a Sir, yes, Sir.

  “Good. At o-fuck early, you pull your shit together and focus on the mission.” He held up a flask. “Compliments of the captain, whose retired Navy Seal ass made you three look like you were standing still today. I won’t even mention the young scientist who climbed the rigging for that hook. Oh, I just did.” They appeared chastised enough so he changed his tone. “Gomez is dead. Think about it. Not about how it’s a critical loss to us, but rather how you’ll prevent it the next time.” He shoved the flask into Green’s hands. “Breaking the rules tonight. Drink that, make like friends and get some sleep.” He picked up Gomez’s rucksack and threw it over his shoulder. Then he looked hard at Hernandez. “Bury it, soldier. She’s gone. No time for being a civilian. Understood?”

  Hernandez was caught out. The Colonel clearly knew all about her and Gomez. She was embarrassed, but that didn’t stop her from looking longingly at the rucksack for a moment more. Then it was over. A steely gaze signaled a shift in her demeanor. “Sir, yes, Sir.”

&nbs
p; MacAfee turned and shut the door behind him.

  Hernandez gave Kelly a quick punch to the left kidney, dropping the soldier to a knee, grimacing in pain. “You don’t hit a superior. Understood, bitch?”

  KK gritted her teeth, then smiled to herself. “You’re welcome. Bitch.”

  Dez turned to Green. “And you! Fuck you, Sergeant.”

  “Fuck you back, Chief.”

  Sailors Paul Monroe, Patty Smith and Todd Campbell held the first topside watch. The three had been the only members of the Ginger Girl crew who weren’t former military. As such, they stuck together to protect themselves from the natural ostracizing that they received from their crewmates. The three would later debate over which one of them had thought of mutiny first. They talked about their options for more than an hour and concluded that there was no way the rest of the crew was going to see it their way. They had been told that they would receive the gene therapy en route, that the process took weeks and involved several injections. Indeed, everyone had been given their first of five injections upon lifting anchor back at Plum Island. After today, Monroe, Smith and Campbell were convinced that the odds where simply ridiculous that they would accomplish this mission and live to enjoy being free of disease. They had volunteered, right? They could change their minds.