Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 20

Site Kilo-29
Military Area - Primary Hallways
Winter, 1993
Day Two-Evening

I stood staring at the snowmen, my left hand going up to touch my right shoulder, pressing slightly as I stared at it in horror. The drapes were closed on the windows, the glass entrance to the building acting as a mirror, and the snow in front of the barracks was flawless and unbroken by footprints or disturbed snow. I knew my mouth was opening and closing as I stared at the picture.

Were we in there? While I stood and stared at the picture was Bomber, Nancy, and I fighting for our lives?

Was Tandy in there?

Was Tandy in here?

"Sergeant?" Someone said.

"Don't touch him!" Kincaid said.

The picture was massive, six feet tall and twenty feet wide, a man, or something that wore the body of a man, could walk across the lawn and step out of it, right? Could get in here with us, right? The picture couldn't be the same as letting the winter in it, could it?

I tore my eyes away from the picture, shuddering, covered in goose pimples, shivering, and sweating all at the same time. It felt like an icicle was jammed into the socket of my shoulder, the freezing cold spreading out over my chest. My feet ached every step I took away from that picture and I could feel cold wind trying to get inside my uniform and steal my life away.

"Do you recognize that place, Sergeant?" Kincaid asked. He was close to me, but not too close, just out of arm's reach.

"You might say that." I laughed.

"What is it?" Donaldson asked.

"My old unit." I told them. "2/19th Special Weapons Group."

"You were stationed at a Lima site?" Kincaid asked. "That... explains a lot."

"We didn't know it was a Lima site. We thought it was like the rest of the Army." I told them, wrapping my arms around myself and shivering. "They left us there in the dark and the cold. They left us there in the winter to die while something stalked us and killed us."

...Ant, I love you!...

...I think I'm dying, brother...

"Sergeant?" Donaldson asked. I was leaning against the wall in front of the doors shivering.

"My men kept dying. He kept stalking us, killing us, and nobody cared." I was vaguely aware I was crying. "I got hurt real bad. They left us to die there."

"Sergeant, we need you." Kincaid yelled, moving around in front of me and grabbing my face. He was staring at me, his face pale. "I know you've got problems, but we need you. Take one of your pills or something, or those goddamn things are going to kill all of us."

I blinked a couple of times.

...it isn't Tandy, bunny, it's something else...

...don't forget the CIA boys, brother...

...don't let them down, bunny...

"Right." I said, pushing off the wall. "Flashback."

"I'd have figured he'd have them from Desert Storm." Someone, I think it was Meyers, whispered.

I laughed at that, reaching out and throwing the bar. "No, that was just men trying to kill me, nothing personal in it." I was starting to warm up.

Shads started to step through the door as soon as it was high enough, but Donaldson grabbed his arm. "Don't, there's IR beams across the door, let's not fuck something up."

Shads just nodded, biting his lip and looking at the door, suddenly aware of just how thick the door was and how heavy it must be. He was a small guy, and kind of scared looking.

I led them back to the motorpool, not saying much beyond instructions on how to use the door. Once the massive door to the military motorpool opened up, we hustled over to my vehicle and I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I could tell that nobody had messed with it while we were gone.

Nancy sat on the wheel well in the bed, leaning back and sunning herself, tanning her boobs in the Saudi Arabian sun. Her hair was down to the middle of her back. She opened one eye and looked at me before smiling. "Nobody paid any attention to what's in the truck."

I reached for my pill bottle, but all my fumbling fingers found was a single CS grenade.

"Let's grab the gear." I told them, moving up to the truck. Nancy laughed. I dropped the tailgate, then pulled the locked dufflebag close enough to unlock. Once that was done I started pulling M16A1's out. None of the serial numbers would show up at any unit, I'd taken them from an Alpha site and stashed them in the Gypsy Wagon over a year ago.

I handed out ammunition next, giving them the same speech about putting the empty magazines top down once they were expended and warning them that while I had more ammo, I didn't have more magazines.

In other words, I lied.

Kincaid was perfectly happy to trade the .45 for an M16A1/M203, and I handed him a bandoleer of shells.

"Top three are HE, next three are frag, the rest are flares." I told him. I handed him a second belt. "Same with this, except the bottom three are WP rounds and three APERS rounds." He nodded, slinging on the bandoleers over his gear and then loading the M-203 with an APERS shot.

"How come you don't use a gunners vest like my old unit?" Meyers asked.

"I'm used to bandoleers." I told him, shrugging. "Army's changing really fast right now, and when the shit I helped test with Force XXI for a couple of months hits, you'll see it change even faster." I pulled a box full of .45's I'd snagged from a Bravo site close then tossed it to Natchez. "Those are pistols, keep 'em close."

"You planning on fighting a war?" Wilkins asked when I opened a box full of Claymore land mines.

"It's a fucking war now." Kincaid growled.

"You should always be prepared to deploy within 90 minutes." I told them, reciting the 2/19th mantra. "The enemy's not going to wait around while you get your shit in order. You pack for deployment and you stay ready at a moment's notice."

"Seriously?" Meyers asked. Shads was nodding, I moved his story up a notch on the believability scale.

"I've heard you Cold War guys are paranoid, but..." Wilkins started.

"Does this look like fucking paranoia?" Kincaid asked, whirling around and pointing at his face. I closed my mouth, cutting off my own reply. "Because it sure as shit doesn't feel like paranoia."

"Kincaid." I kept my voice soft. When he turned I tossed him a bag. "Keep track of that, it's an SF surgical bag." He nodded and slung it onto his back, wincing at the additional pressure on his ribs.

I pulled four boxes up. They were heavy, about a hundred pounds a piece. I broke the lead seals, then the inspection seals, and opened them up.

Someone whistled.

Engineer demo kits. Full of C-4, det cord, fuses, wire, and everything a good engineer needs to destroy other people's shit.

"You four are carrying these." I said, snapping the boxes shut. I tossed Donaldson the bag with the Claymore kits in it. "You carry those." Then I hefted the box of ammo, ignoring the fiery twinge in my ribs when I lifted it up on my left shoulder.

"Let's move out." I told them.

"QRF TEAMS TO PRIMARY OPERATIONS! QRF TEAMS TO PRIMARY OPERATIONS!" rang out over the loudspeakers.

"Sounds like they're getting frisky in there." I grinned, leading them over to the door.

"What?" Wilkins asked.

"The system is ordering the quick reaction force to deploy to the operations center we left the Suits in, probably thinking their either an intrusion or rogue elements." I said. I knew I was gloating, but couldn't help it. "That whole room will be locked out now."

"Maybe the place will gas their asses." Kincaid said. "Fucking dicks."

"All right, let's get the hell back. Doubletime it." I said. The others nodded.

The trip back was quick. Once we heard the sound of claws on metal, but we kept jogging, stopping twice so Kincaid, Donaldson, and I could catch our breath. We were still faster than if we'd tried to walk, but even so it seemed to take forever before we were knocking on the door to the rec room.

When the Major had the door opened by Purett, I noticed he was standing back from his troop, but with a clear line of fire for the doorway. We hustled in and Purett shut the door.

"Sergeant, as soon as you are able to, I need a report." The Major told me, waving me over as soon as I dropped the bags I was carrying.

"Drop the gear here, then break open that box of MRE's and eat." I told them. I turned and walked over to the Major, saluting him. Something in my shoulder made a sharp snap and he frowned.

"Never mind that." He told me. I dropped my arm. "How did it go?"

"We retrieved all the weapons, ammunition, and explosives from my vehicle." I told him. Something flickered in his eyes, but it passed before I could tell what it was. "We grabbed additional equipment and some food."

"What's your take on our situation?" He asked me, nodding at what I'd told him already.

"Sir, we have seven additional M-16A1 rifles and six .45 caliber M1911A1 pistols. I've got around a dozen Claymore land mines, so we can defend this area if preparations are made to fortify an area." I looked at the rec room. "I wouldn't suggest this one, it's too open." The Major nodded. "Additionally, we have an unknown hostile force of unknown capabilities who perceive this area as their home ground, we have three or less enemy saboteurs who may or may not be operating under orders from their superiors within the US government, and we have two serious wounded."

"Four." The Major told me.

"Sir?"

"You forgot to count yourself and Private Kincaid." The Major told me. "However, you two are ambulatory and combat effective." He stared at me for a moment. "I need you to be honest with me, how combat effective are you, and will your medication affect your combat effectiveness?"

I took a deep breath, then leaped.

"I'm combat effective right now, but once I go down, I'll go down for at least eight to twelve hours." I was honest. I knew my limits, even if I'd pushed them far beyond what my limits had been 5 years before. "My medication is to handle flashbacks and the after effects of several serious head wounds."

"How serious?" He asked me.

"I was blind for awhile after the first. The others affected my memory and I get migraines." I sighed and rubbed the side of of my face. "My medication keeps me from having migraines or flashbacks as well as... memory problems."

He was silent for a long time, his eyes steady, weighing and judging what I'd told him and what he'd seen me do.

"Can my men rely on you?" He asked.

"Yes, sir." I told him. It wasn't insulting.

"How much pain are you in?" He asked, glancing at my shoulder. That reminded me that it hurt, and for a second before I let the pain pass through me and beyond me, it took my breath away.

"It's not too bad. I've been injured worse and was able to drive on." I reassured him. "But we've got a mission to complete, and I can't do it by myself." I sighed, and glanced at Bomber, who was standing behind the Major watching our conversation with approval. "I'm not trained for solo operations, I've always had people at my side." I grinned suddenly. "I've already poached Donaldson and Kincaid from you, I hope you don't mind."

He glanced back at where Kincaid was sitting on a pool table, eating an MRE. He was glaring at everyone, almost daring them to say something. Donaldson was putting peanut butter on top of his brownie, his rifle in his lap.

"Are you able to discuss your mission?" The Major asked, turning his attention back to me. His lack of discussion let me know that as far as he was concerned, Kincaid and Donaldson were mine.

"I'm supposed to examine this site." I told him.

...son, we don't know what's in there, and normally we'd send a full team, but with the situation in North Dakota, you're all I've got. I know you were supposed to be assigned to a new team after the incident and once you were cleared by Mental Health, but as you should understand from what I've already told you, we can't wait that long...

...yes, sir, I understand, sir...

...good man. I'm going to give you a lot of leeway in interpreting your orders...

"The only reason we know this site exists is it was on a list of three sites listed as Kilo sites with the Department of Energy. None of the others of the Big-13 had any data on them." I took another leap. If I was wrong, well, it was the Major who would pay the penalty. "The Department of Energy's records were... sparse at best. Only a few archive files existed, ones on paper rather than on computer record. This site was listed, but no details."

"It's nuclear powered." The Major broke in, putting it together a lot faster than I had.

I nodded. "Additionally, Continuity of Government and other documents from various Projects," I made sure he understood the capitalization of the word. "Pointed that Kilo sites were built with specific missions in mind.

"Sadly, records were lost during the shuffling around of paperwork following the 1974 Release of Information Act and then a lot more recently."

"The Fall of the Wall?" He asked.

"No. The Iran Contra Hearings." I told him. "Paperwork got misfiled, and nobody knows any more what these sites were designed to do."

I could see the gears turning in his head for a moment before he shook it to clear his thoughts. "So now my men and I are involved in black bag bullshit."

"Right." I told him, then grinned. "But at least you'll have fun."

"You call this fun?" He asked, glancing at Kincaid, who was exploring the gash on his head with his fingertips.

"Beats sitting in the barracks pulling police call or playing with myself." I told him. "You'll have a story nobody else will believe, you'll grow old wondering just what the fuck it was all about, and you'll find yourself getting amazingly lucky with schools and duty stations."

"If we survive." He said. "We've still got those things and the CIA agents out there."

"Sir, I was once hunted for sport by an axe wielding maniac during a blizzard." I told him. "This? This is nothing."

"I'm of the mind that our next step should be engaging and eliminating the hostile forces within this site." The Major told me, loud enough to be overheard by anyone being nosy.

Kincaid looked up, smiling.

I'd have to watch that boy.

"I respectfully disagree, sir." I told him. The Major I'd met outside the door, the Major who'd insisted I'd tell him about my combat patch would have argued. The Major in front of me just nodded and waited.

"We need to explore the facility, me and a team, we're missing the teams that came before use and I think that finding out..." My voice trailed off.

Cathrine Taggart was standing underneath a camera, her second child, the one that she'd named after me, slung in her arm and sleepily nursing at her breast. Her free hand was pointing up at the camera.

Which was pointing at the Major and me, a green light steadily glowing underneath it.

"Just a moment, sir." I said. He watched me as I moved past him, digging out my Skillcraft pen and my green notebook as I hooked a chair with my toe and swept it toward the camera.

The camera followed me.

I wrote something in big block letters on the page then stood up so the camera could see me clearly and the words would be obvious on the page.

"BOB THE CAMERA IF YOU CAN READ THIS"

The camera held still for a moment then slowly glided up and down before settling on me. I scrawled another message.

"Sergeant?" The Major asked. I held up a hand, then went back to writing.

"ARE YOU A MEMBER OF A PREVIOUS TEAM? UP/DOWN = YES L/R = NO"

The camera moved slowly up and down three times before settling on me.

"ARE YOU TRAPPED?"

"We've seen a camera move before, sir, it's why were trying to access the other levels, to find out who was running it." Donaldson said.

The camera moved in a circle.

"DO YOU RECOGNIZE ME?"

The camera moved up and down.

"ARE YOU INJURED?"

Yes.

"ARE YOU ON FLOOR 1?"

No.

It took a couple of moments, but they confirmed they were on the 7th floor.

Once again, I had a nagging feeling something was wrong.

"2/19th?"

No.

"WE'RE COMING TO EVAC YOU"

No.

I tapped it again, then stared at the camera.

Yes.

"Kincaid, Donaldson, mount up. We've got a previous clearing team member trapped and in need of rescue on the seventh floor." I said, hopping down off the chair. "Shads, Wilkins, Natchez, load up, we're mounting a rescue operation."

"Everyone else, grab the gear Sergeant Ant and his team brought and get ready to move out." The Major said, walking to the table where Donaldson had set the .45's and M-16's. "We're falling back to the Officer Quarters OIC office." He picked up one of the .45's and checked the action before loading it.

"Sergeant Ant, thank you for the loan of your personal firearm, but I believe I'll be fine with this." He told me. I nodded and walked over to him, feeling the tiredness and pain wash out of me as my mind went through the layout we'd explored so far, coming up with a movement plan. He handed me my pistol.

"There's cameras in the office, sir." I told him. "Give me your notebook." He handed me his and I dug mine out again. I scrawled a handful of numbers. "Issue out the six digit numbers to your men, the eight digit number is for you. They'll have non-secure access, this will give you access to most of the secure areas."

Something in my memory tried to get my attention, but I lost it before I could focus on it, a blinding spike of pain radiating from where I'd cracked my skull.

"Thank you, Sergeant." He lowered his voice. "Are you sure this is a good idea to do right now?"

"They have to know more than I do, that means they're an asset." I told him. "And I don't leave men behind."

He stared at me again, and I knew he was looking at the scars on my face. "No, I don't suppose you would either."

I cracked open one of the demo kits, pulling out blocks of C-4, the small plastic box containing fuzes, a roll of wire, and a clacker. "Kincaid, you've got the demo." I said. Kincaid came up and I held out my empty hand. "First, gimme my pistol back." He handed it back, then began jamming stuff in his pockets. "Everyone, grab at least six chemlights." I turned to the Major. "Wilkins, grab two Claymore bags." I pointed at the SF bag. "Donaldson, you're on medical, they're injured and might need treatment." Donaldson nodded and grabbed the bag, shrugging into the straps. I turned to the Major.

"Kincaid lost his NVG's in the fight, and I'm not sure we can recover them."

"Right." He said. "Purett, you've got NVG's, turn them over to Kincaid."

"But they're mine." Purett answered.

"This isn't a discussion." The Major told him. Purett came over rather sulkily and handed the NVG's to Kincaid, who checked his helmet and then told Purett to give him the helmet retainer, since his was broken. Purett looked even more sulky.

"Ready, gentlemen?" I asked. The men who were going with me nodded. Shads looked a little sad for some reason.

"We're ready, Major." I said, turning to the other man.

He held out his hand, and I shook it. "Good luck, Sergeant."

"We make our own luck." I grinned.

"Let's go men." I said, turning and heading toward the door. The Major was snapping out orders, telling men to distribute the remaining Claymores. Someone asked where I'd gotten all the equipment, the Major told them that the information was need to know, and they didn't need to know.

Once out in the hallway I led them to the elevators. When Wilkins reached for the button Kincaid grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"Stairwell?" Donaldson asked.

I thought for a second. In the stairwell shaft we'd be ripe for the picking. Those things could swarm us and if we fell we were as good as dead. In the elevator we'd be sitting ducks.

"They're on the 7th floor, I don't know if the elevators in this section go to that section." I told them.

"I thought you said this place only had six levels." Kincaid said, turning to look at me. "You're sure they said they're on the seventh floor?"

"EVENT RECOVERY" flashed through my mind, as did the other sealed doors in the stairwell shaft and the oddly labeled button in the elevator. Each of the sealed access points went by in my mind and I could feel the cold and damp of the stairwell.

And the crossbow bolt the Major had pulled out of my arm, which throbbed in time with my heartbeat till I pushed the pain back down.

There were rumors about...

"Sergeant?" Natchez asked. My train of thought derailed and exploded, the back of my head throbbing. I reached for the small bottle of medication, only to remember I'd dropped it back on the floor of the Operations Center.

"Yes, Private?" I asked, resisting an urge to yell at him. It wouldn't do any good, and I'd already badly mistreated Kincaid.

"Why can't we take the elevators?" He asked.

Kincaid laughed, a harsh barking sound.

"They might be damaged or booby trapped." I warned him. "Private Kincaid almost went down the elevator shaft when the floor gave away in one of them."

"If we take the stairs, they might ambush us again." Donaldson said.

"Let them." Kincaid sneered.

"What stairs?" Meyers asked me, looking around.

"Right here." Donaldson said, reaching out and thumping the wall panel with the black and yellow border around it.

"Fat lot of good it does us behind a steel plate." Meyers grumbled.

"That's no big deal." Kincaid told him.

"Fuck it, let's go." I told them, leading them away from the elevators.

"Where we going?" Meyers asked.

"The elevators we've already tested." Kincaid said, making his guess sound like concrete certainty.

"Bingo. We'll pull two of the desks out and use it." I told them.

"Flip the other two desks up and use them for cover?" Donaldson asked.

"They're steel, 1950's models, if nothing else they'll slow the bullet down so it doesn't hurt so much if it hits your vest or doesn't tear your fucking arm or leg off." I said.

"These vests aren't bulletproof, they kept reminding us of that fact during Basic." Meyers said.

"Did I sound that like?" Kincaid asked me, trying to raise an eyebrow and wincing.

"Yup." I told him.

"It's fucking annoying." Kincaid said, ignoring Meyers glare at him.

"Yup." I answered, grinning at him. Meyers glared at me, but I was married, he didn't have shit on the glares Heather could hand out.

...I miss you, Heather...

...We're right here waiting for you to come back, bunny...

"They aren't." Meyers insisted.

"Since I'm not laying on the ground with a sucking chest wound, they're close enough for me." Donaldson grunted.

"It must have been a ricochet." Meyers insisted.

"Whatever." Donaldson waved it off.

I stopped at the door and turned to look at them. "On the other side of this door we have a high chance of encountering the enemy." I locked gazes with each of them for a second before moving on, before continuing. "They're fast, they know how to cut the lights before they hit, they drop down out of the removable panels on the suspended ceiling."

Meyers made a scoffing sound and of all people, it was Shads who turned to glare at him.

"They're fast, but weak. Last time they jumped us, they used weapons instead of just biting and clawing. They aren't coordinated, they don't use tactics, but they're surprisingly resilient." I grinned and touched the haft of my knife. "But they die just like anyone else if you can get them clean."

"I saw Sergeant Ant kill one of them in the motorpool when it jumped him." Donaldson said. "It went down and stayed down."

"But, there's three men on the other side of this door that may or may not have been able to get out the Operations Center where we left them." I said. "They're trained field agents, they have good aim, just ask Donaldson and Kincaid, and they are out to kill us in the name of 'National Security' for some goddamn reason."

"They're dicks." Kincaid offered up.

"That too." I said. "But, these men are best at ambushes, hitting you when you don't expect it. They won't announce their presence, they won't warn you, they will just come up behind you and shoot you in the back of your melon head. If you even think you see them, no warning, shoot to kill."

Kincaid, Donaldson, and Shads nodded. Natchez, Meyers, & Wilkins looked doubtful but nodded.

"Think 007 with a serious case of being an asshole." Kincaid threw in.

"It's why you have weapons." I reminded them, then threw the locking bar.

The hallway beyond stunk of rotting meat, cordite, blood, and burned metal.

We passed by the holes that the flares I'd fired off had melted in the floor, moving quietly. The chemlights that Donaldson had dropped were giving off a faint glow, the chemical reaction slowly dying down.

Down the passageway to the elevators there were still chemlights glowing where Kincaid and I had dropped them. The elevator doors were closed, but there was a faint light from the stairwell access we'd opened up. Our boots thudded loudly in the silence as we moved into where we'd fought for our lives briefly before. Kincaid, Donaldson, and I turned on our flashlights, panning them over the hallway.

"They drag off their dead." Shads said, his voice almost lost in the echoes of our boots.

"And what? Eat them?" Meyers taunted the smaller man.

"Yes." Kincaid said, stopping and bending down. Meyers made a sound of disbelief but we ignored him. "This is where you and I got jacked, but I don't see whatever it was he hit us with."

"They recovered their weapons too." Donaldson said, looking around. "I wonder why they didn't take the chemlights?"

"They don't like the light?" I offered.

Kincaid led the way, sweeping his flashlight over the spatters and pools of blood on the hallway walls and floor. From each blood pool was the marks of something being drug down into the stairwell shaft.

"I think they might be too busy to jump us right now." Kincaid stated, tracing his light across the large blood smear that had been made by multiple bodies being drug into the stairs.

"Yeah, nobody wants to miss the feast." I said, moving past him, keeping my eye on the shaft as I passed it. I pressed the button and the doors shivered and groaned before opening up.

There was a figure inside, dressed in BDU's, arms raised up with an axe held tightly, ready to plunge it down. It had a cold weather mask on its face, and the axe started to come down as it lunged out of the elevator, leaning forward like a predator.

...He turned and faced me, standing up straight and holding the bayonet in his fist, point down. Standard downward stabbing hold. I could see his bloodshot eye through the hole in the cold weather mask, his teeth, missing one of the front ones, bared through the little slit in the mask...