Savaged

Ahhhhh……….. What the fuck? Oh my head it hurts like no other. Where the fuck am I; I’m blinded by wet layers of goo covering my eyes.

My head is spinning, pounding; what the fuck is going on? There’s bright light shining red through my glued shut eyes; sand fills my eye sockets. I dig at my eyes with numb fingers; I hear music playing low over the sounds of traffic; horns honk with the sounds of rush hour. I rip at the sheets; cool wet sticky clinging tightly to my arms and legs. I kick as hard as I’m able; I’m so weak, sweat comes easy, I lay back wet in exhaustion, delirium flows over my body.

Wakening soaked in sweat I shake my head, my eyes still covered in chunky goo that clings to my lids like glue, fingers unable to clear the wet soaking sticky film I utter a sickly low grunt as waves of twisting spinning sickness wash over my body; with great effort I raise my left arm from the tangle of sodden bedding throwing off the last tangle of sheets, I rub a terrible ache in my upper right arm, my finger dig deep in rough tangles of globs scabs of dried and wet sticky clumps cling to my skin. I hear a slow drip of water; my legs are twisted in ropes of soaked cotton; a horrible stink over whelms the other senses it reeks of bright coppery electricity with lower tones of beaten loamy heavy earthy scents. I smell a sour sweet stench of busted bowels its taste itch’s the tongue as whiffs float through the air of fermented foods half digested opened to oxidation on breezes coming from an open window. I dig franticly at my eyes.

Waking now to soft sounds of traffic my arms feel sedated laying limp at my sides; my right arm trapped, wrapped in a tangle of stiff sheets. Peering from my left eye I swivel focusing on the area of the bed towards the left pillow; I see a slicer of meat about four inches square with long blond hair flowing across the crumpled pillow; edges dulling of drying meat; a peninsula of long tissue ending with a neatly preserved left ear lobe adorned with a shinning brilliant diamond ear ring glistening in the bright late morning sun. I gag…………

Soft shadows; brighter lights to my right; I awake on my back to the murmur of faint traffic and a strong gagging odor of perforated bowel and lingering death. My left arm seems to be awake as I force it to lift into view from my side; shakily it wavers inches over my face. I will it to rub my left eye clearing dried chunks of debris fall from my face. My upper lip feels bloody and ripped, my hand shakily pulls a long torn red fingernail from between my teeth waving it before my eyes.

I roll my swimming head from side to side red then white light fills my face from the bed side lamp. Starring into the light I see that the lamps shade was once white but now painted red by thick blood at the top then condensing into streaming drying blood that flowed towards the bottom of the shade, the base of the lamp are pools of drying coagulated blood once bright red now a sickening color of brown. Chunks of pale flesh make islands where blood once flowing seeking lower places to cool and pool; my eyes stop and rest upon a severed breast sliced free sitting up right with nipple facing the brocade ceiling. My stomach spins I puke into the stained bottom sheet at my side. I gag and puke, dry heave until I’m sure I’m going to die; large chunks of my last meal rip and tear my throat spewing across the sheets. Aching I lay panting right side of my face laying flat facing the light; in the center of my stomach content lays a beautifully manicured woman’s right index finger with a bright red painted finger nail ragged and torn; my mind flashes to my ripped torn lips.

Rolling away my eyes slowly adjust to the low light of the sixty watt bulb of the night stand. The room just over ten by twelve is in shambles, broken chairs and table washed up against the door to the hallway like a log jam. The mirror over the table is broken into a myriad of pieces glistening sharp pin points of light into my eyes. Closer twisted into the bedding is a large glistening section of lower intestine undulating between white and grey disappearing over the edge of the bed onto the floor. I see chunks of ripped flesh scattered across the once tan carpet now stained dark brown, viscous ropes of humanity twist and turn between chunks of torn meat. I gurgle a muted scream.

Lying on my back panting for breath I see splattered blood across the ceiling thickening towards the walls. Small pieces of flesh stick to the walls, larger chunks have peeled away leaving painted outlines where they once stuck. Nooks and crannies are jammed with flesh, blood oozing leaving red brown lines trailing to the floor. The over head fan slowly turns casting revolving shadows; red stalactites of cold blood are angled into the spinning motion of the fan.

Voices from the hallway harsh; echoing pounding on the door jars my senses rattles my ears. Flashlights sear sun blazes into my eyes.

My hands are cuffed as I lay cold on the hard floor, Sirens loud, curses, questions of why, bars.

I lay still with swirling answerless thoughts, I wonder what will happened, what will come.

From the Ramblings



t

Bitten

Mitchell Corpsman; Mitch to his friends and co-workers knock softly on the heavy wood door; muffled he heard “Come in” Pushing the large door open he stuck his head into the large room; finding the Director sitting behind the huge desk Mitch quickly checked to make sure she was alone.

“Mitch, come in, come in.” Director Bell said in her friendly tone. The CDC chief was easy to work for; “do your job and join the family” was what she’d told him two years ago when he joined her staff.

“Chief we have a problem.” Mitch took the seat the chief was pointing at. “It’s Florida again, the keys.”

“Not more snakes, or is it the rats this time?” Director Beth Bell said shaking her head. Bell joined the CDC in 1992 working as an Epidemic Intelligence Service (EIS) Officer in Washington State. Later promoted to Director of NCEZID she’d been chasing emerging zoonotic infectious diseases for the last few years. “Not snakes or rats?” she said as Mitch shook his head slowly looking at his hands.

“I wish it was snakes; that I could handle. It’s rabies.” Mitch said lifting his head with a sick look on his face.

“Rabies? Oh shit; how many cases? We’re talking one case right?” Director Bell said, as she too began to mimic Mitch’s slow sickened side to side head motions of no.

“No Chief, we’ve got seven at the moment and two more just taken in for testing.” “It’s looking like an epidemic and its picking up speed real fast!” Mitch slowly lifted his head and looked into the shocked eyes of the Director.

“What the hell’s going on down there Mitch, we only had two cases in the whole Country in last few years. It’s almost unheard of for someone to get rabies in the States.” “Anyone have an idea what’s the carrier?” Bell said her voice filled with dread.

“No not yet; I got a report five days ago when the first diagnoses came in. Guy from Key Haven came into a hospital in Miami sick and they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. They had him for two days when he went crazy and bit two nurses and a Security Officer. They didn’t get it figured out until he started foaming at the mouth.” Mitch said in a low drone. “He’s dead and all three that he bit are not responding to treatments.”

“Not responding?” Beth said wide eyed. “So we have three cases not responding to treatment?”

“No we have those three and three more at small hospitals down in the keys that don’t seem to be responding either, Plus the two that came in today.” Mitch said as his right hand worked its way up and began to rub under his left eye. “One of the cases today is John Thomas EIS from the Atlanta Office, I sent him down three days ago to have a firsthand look.”

“Oh no, I worked with him in Washington State during the E. coli outbreak; wait, isn’t the incubation period normally two to twelve weeks?” Beth said astonished.

“That’s the way I read it, but this is something special it’s looking like a super bug, fast and drug resistant.” Mitch’s right hand was now rubbing roughly around his eye, the skin turning red and raw looking.

“I’m calling everyone in; Mitch get on the first plane down there and get me some answers.” Beth said as Mitch turned and was out the door in a flash. I hand wave was his only reply. “Be careful!” she shouted as the door closed.

Picking up the phone she sent out the alert everyone hoped they’d never get.

“Ok ok quiet down!” Director Bell shouted over the roar of the large crowd. “Let’s get to it people! We have a lot to cover; take your seats!”

Two hundred and fifty people, Doctors, PhD’s, Assistants, Lab workers all sat in unison; it was clear they were all equally worried by what they’d been able to find out to this point; the silence was deafening.

“Let me give you some back ground on what we are up against.” Bell said as the overhead lights went low and the projector came to life and brightened the large screen. “This is rabies.” A gasp filled the room as nearly five hundred plus eyes stared at the most frightening disease of third World Countries filled the screen. “It’s 99.9 percent deadly if not caught before the first symptoms appear. Only three people have been saved using the new Melbourne protocol; this disease is a slate cleaner.” You could hear a pin drop in the large auditorium the only sound was the hum of the projector. “It appears to be a super bug version and is at this point is not treatable with any known drugs or treatment.” “We currently have nine dead and seventeen under level five containment in Miami. The carrier is not known at this time.” “Two of our own investigators are dead with this disease and we expect the numbers of stricken to rise.” A low murmur drifted across the large room in a slow wave. Heads turned and people looked at each other with solemn faces; this was indeed serious.

Day ten; Tuesday.

The radio crackled, Jones strained to hear and understand what was being said. The fan of his respirator covered the scratchy radio and the double layer of plastic of his hazmat suit made it all but impossible to hear or read the radio display face.

“Can you fucking understand any of that?” Jones shouted to his partner Collins. Collins was just a white blob of hundreds of white blobs in space suits moving through the white walled neighborhood; the only difference being a short section of medical tape with his name pasted to the front right breast of his suit.

“Yeah the guy said the fucking National Guard just shot three more people. Those fuckers are useless and scared shitless!” Collins shouted in Jones face mask.

“What were they expecting? The poor fuckers with rabies go crazy and attack anything that moves! All the fucking animals have rabies too! The National Guard guys are supposed to shoot any animal they see. I want the fuck out of here!” Jones screamed at Collins fogging up his clear plastic face plate. With a wave Collins turned into another court yard looking for anyone still alive. Jones followed him cussing under his breath.

Day fifteen; Sunday.

Miami CDC control center

“We’re fucked!” Matt Jason said a little too loud. Three heads turned and looks of disapproval crossed all three faces. Lower and closer to Michael Deems ear “Fucking mosquitoes, can you fucking believe it? Fucking mosquitoes!” “How you gonna stop a cloud of fucking mosquitoes!?” Matt Jason whispered.

After a short side bar conversation Director Bell addressed the vector control Officers.

“Ok this is what we’ve got. The FDA approved the release of five hundred thousand GMO mosquitoes on Raccoon Island exactly thirty days ago. These mosquitoes were genetically modified to breed with the Islands Aedes aegypti local mosquitoes population with the plan that the local mosquitoes would lay eggs that would not hatch ending the cycle of many if not all the local mosquitoes on Raccoon Island.”

“What has happened is that they succeeded in the breeding program but the GMO mosquitoes are breeding with each other; something they thought couldn’t be done successfully. The new GMO super mosquitoes have the ability to transfer living viruses to animals and humans they bite; this is nothing new. What’s new is that they can now transfer any viruses they carry to their off spring; meaning the baby mosquitoes come hatched with a number of viruses from their parents. One or many of those GMO super mosquitoes have bitten a rabid animal and we have thousands of their off spring carrying a viable rabies virus which they can transfer to humans or any other creature they bite.”

A roar went through the grouped Officers bouncing from wall to wall. Everyone in the room was talking at once. People got to their feet; arms waving, a number of people walked out the meeting room door dropping name tags and I.D badges as they left.

Yelling at the top of her lungs over the thunderous outraged voices; “Ok ok let me have your attention!” “Please everyone; please give me your attention!”

“I’m as outraged as you are!” “But we have to get this under control before it spreads to any further Islands!” Bell shouted.

People sat shaking their heads; murmurs continued to cross the room picking up in intensity then dropping.

“We’ve lost Raccoon Island and we’ve evacuated six close by Islands and keys.” “We can stop this in its tracks if we move fast.” Bell pleaded.

Day sixty; Wednesday

CBS Evening News:

Rabies continues to spread across the lower half of Florida tonight with no end in sight. The CDC insists there is no reason to worry and says the spread of this deadly disease is in its last stages and the number of new cases will slowly drop in the next few days. One case of rabies has been reported in Alabama but the CDC has ruled out that this case is connected to Florida’s outbreak.

Also in the news………….

From the Ramblings.



t

Ice

I remember fondly back to the early to mid 2000’s when the U.N. was working feverishly on climate mitigation. The UNFCCC had a huge budget and was pressuring large and small Countries alike to cut emissions to 1970-80’s levels regardless of economic upheavals it caused. They screamed that since record keeping started in 1880 that global warming was spinning out of control; the warmest years on record since 1880 was 2001 to 2011.

It all start to unravel in 2010 with the Iceland volcano Eyjafjallajokull eruption and over the next two years the eruption of Bardarbunga, Grimsvotn and finally in 2015 the monstrous eruption of the dormant volcano Katia. Air traffic came to a sudden stand still as volcanic ash filled the skies; temperatures plummeted as the ash scattered and absorbed solar radiation.

December 8th 2015; I’m still mourning the passing of my beloved wife of 38 years. The tunnel I dug from the garage door to her place of burial has since caved in from the weight of the snow over head. What’s left of the tunnel, about five feet I now use to store our supplies from the useless freezers. It’s been a month since we last had power and all the houses myriad of electrical appliances are now of no use. I’m having a small celebration after tunneling and cutting down one of our 30 year old oak trees a task that has taken the most of the last two months to complete. The wood shed is again full of seasoned wood and with the addition of the old oak I should have wood to cook on and heat for the next six months if I ration correctly. I have two more old oaks in the yard so I should be able to obtain a supply of wood that will outlast my supply of food if I can find them buried in the snow.

January 12th, 2016; I was a woken last night by a woofing crackling sound; I combed the house and attic and can find nothing out of sorts. I will check on my two neighbors after first light.

After clearing two cave ins along the tunnel to my lower neighbors house, the last being just a few feet from their front door, I’ve found that their house has collapsed under the weight of the snow. Calling their names at the top of my lungs and banging on fallen beams I hear no responses. It would be impossible to dig and search the destroyed structure and I’ve returned to my house with a heavy heart.

The longest tunnel of the two is towards the street, then a good hundred feet to the Nichol’s house at street level. I’ve found that tunnel is completely blocked with solid ice and packed snow. I am totally alone now.

I’m so happy and I have to say proud that I realized early on that we were facing a nuclear winter brought on by the volcanic activity. While the internet was still up I researched different ways to protect the house from the weight of heavy snow and ice. So far it has worked; packing snow and ice, constructing what could only be called an igloo over and around the house. It was a huge project but day by day as the snow built up I raised the walls and slowly cleared and shaped the tightly packed snow over the top of the house, finally beating the snow to solid ice and reinforcing the walls and top daily until it was packed tight to six feet deep, deeper on the walls. As the snow fell and continued to get deeper, I made trip after trip to the grocery stores in the area and other big box stores and filled two bedrooms full of canned and preserved foods. When the Government finally decided to tell people to stock up I was finished and working on saving my house. I stocked up on pure gas in a number of cans to run my generators if the need arises. I spoke with my primary Doctor and begged and cheated until I managed to stock up large quantities of my two prescriptions. I’m pretty set.

January 25th 2016; my bedroom clock says 10:15am but the windows are dark; I’m going to the surface today.

Five hours of digging and packing snow on the sides of the tunnel stairway towards the surface and I’m exhausted, I’ll hold off on breaching the surface until tomorrow morning.

January 26th 2016; finished the dig and the weather is beautiful up here; bright sunshine with a gentle breeze. I’m going back down and get a lawn chair and sit in the sun for awhile. I can see from this angle that my neighbor’s house at the street also has collapsed and is covered in a thick blanket of snow. From what I can figure with just the tops of the trees showing in our area the snow has to be about thirty five feet deep and I see no structures above the snow level. I’m a human sun dial; I haven’t sat in the sun for four months or so now; the suns heat is putting me to sleep.

January 27th 2016; I’ve found a friend; or should I say she’s found me. I haven’t heard scratching at the door since our dog passed five years ago; I knew that sound as soon as I walked into the garage. She’s a mixed breed of about forty pounds with dark brown black thick hair. I’ve spent the whole morning thawing her out and working the clumps of ice out of her feet and lion like mane. She is kissing me to death and I have to say I had no idea I was so lonely. With a belly full of food she’s sound asleep in the family room and seems to have taken over the couch.

I’m going to take this opportunity to return to the surface and look around a bit. Jamie my new dog’s tracks come from the south. Looks as though she carefully checked out the ruins of the Nichol’s house and then must have smelled me from where I’d been sitting. Her trail in the snow works back and forth until about fifteen feet from the opening into the snow and then a straight line to and down the snow stairs. I see no other tracks in the fresh snow that had fallen over night and her tracks should be covered within the hour by the looks of the dark clouds. I’m covering the entrance with a piece of plywood and let it be covered in snow. As a precaution I’ve reinforced the garage door and have stationed one of my 12ga. shotguns within easy reach and on that end of the house; I’m still alive today from thinking safely and thinking of all possibilities I can.

January 28th 2016; I have a problem; I have completely forgotten how often a dog has to go outside to go to the bathroom. It’s also leaving a clear sign that we live here; deep under the snow but someone lives here.

February 1st 2016; Bear tracks at the snow stairs entrance; a big bear, I don’t see him but he has to be nearby. Jamie is whining and wants to go back underground; I wonder if she’d been hunted by bears before finding me?.

February 2nd 2016; More reinforcements; I spent all day yesterday and most of today working on traps and doubling the strength of all of the doors leading into the house along with hardening the new door to the outside at the stairs entrance to the surface. The windows I can’t do a thing about but they are thirty five feet deep and on the inside of the solid ice I packed to make the igloo; I’ve spread my remaining firearms throughout the house and in doorways for easy access. I don’t leave the safety of the house now unless I’m heavily armed. I spent a couple hours cleaning the area around the snow stairs of dog poop and raked the snow erasing as many paw and foot prints as I was able; I’m hoping for a heavy snow fall. I love Jamie but she has put us both at great risk if our area is now patrolled by bears or other critters; we will have to be very careful now. I’ve dug a small area into the snow from the back door of the house and I’m following Jamie around until she’s done with her duty and picking it up and throwing it into the area under the deep snow and inside of the igloo footing.

March 15th 2016; nothing to report other than Jamie continues to enrich my life. I finally figured out to turn one bathroom into her private bathroom and made the shower into her own toilet area. It’s easy to clean and we’ve stopped marking our home with our scents. The bear activity has slowed and it’s been two weeks since seeing any tracks in our immediate area. I’ve began to lightly patrol our surrounding area and being on the surface for extended times it would appear that the sky is lightning, still filled with heavy clouds and snow but defiantly lightning up. The new fallen snow is now completely white where for months it had been a shade of grey. I figure the snow depth to be nearly forty feet deep and deeper in heavy drift areas.

April 3rd 2016; snow depth has dropped to thirty feet deep by my estimate; we are defiantly in the spring thaw and snow is falling and dripping off the tops of the trees. I’m worried about pooling water pushing on the igloo but I’m hopeful that it will find a way to run off and around the sides.

April 20th 2016; I dug out and buried both my neighbors without fan fare; grisly work. Snow levels continue to drop and the sun is out most days; if feels so good.

May 1st 2016; Global warming is back and I’m so happy. Most areas have dropped to ten feet or less of snow cover and the weather is in the 60’s. I haven’t found one house that wasn’t collapsed under the snow on our hill; I hope to begin to reach further out as the snow melts more.

May 10th 2016; I now have a snow cleared spot in my backyard; if I get down on my hands and knees I think I can see green starts of lawn. My supplies are getting lower but I had planned on a much longer winter wonderland than what’s actually happening now. At this rate I might be able to plant a garden for this summer.

May 30th 2016; I see a contrail in the clear sky; somewhere there is a working airport. There is much more damage than I was realizing; houses smashed, trees down, most of the telephone poles are down crossing streets with cables and blocking the roads as they clear of snow. 70 degrees this afternoon and plants are poking their heads out from under the last of the snow banks.

June 1st 2016; it’s over; an Army truck drove slowly up our street today clearing power poles and trees. They stopped and asked if I needed any help; we all laughed until my stomach hurt. My house is the only house in the County they said that was still standing. I offered to barbeque them a steak; huge laughs all around. One solder noticed all the crosses along the driveway; “neighbors” is all that was said. He nodded and shook his head as he walked away.

Things are almost back to normal now unless you count losing seventy five percent of the population in one major disaster. I have a new neighbor that is building a house half way down the street; it’s going to be nice to have someone close to talk too after this. Jamie has found they have a nice Germany Sheppard male dog; I think we are going to be having puppies in short order by the looks of things, I can’t wait.

This ends my short diary of most of the disaster; I wish my wife was here to see the end.

Jamie had her puppies last night; I worked through the night as midwife. Seven new lives; four females and three males, all are already asked for. Things are getting back to order.

From the Ramblings



t

Taem Kim

My name is Taem Kim; I’ve been given the great honor of paper and pencil to write of my life. This honor has been blessed on me by the Sergeant of the guard Liu Kim. I wish to honor him; he is a great man. I have been sentenced to death by firing squad for my crimes against the State and I must hurry to get my writings down.

I was born October 23rd 1983 in cell block Six, Camp 9 by my mother who was a political prisoner of the DPRK. She and my father were kidnapped on June 16th 1983 along the western edge of Seoul, South Korea. My mother and father both were outspoken political writers against the the Kim dynasty of the North. I was told that they were returning from a speaking engagement and were stopped on a remote road by commandos of the North and taken over the border and imprisoned. Neither my Mother nor Father were given a trial; they were separated from that moment on.

My Mother was given to the Captain of the Guard shortly after arriving at Camp 9 as a wife/mistress as she was a beautiful woman. She was allowed to come to full term; a great honor given her by the Captain. I was taken from her at the moment of birth and only saw her once at my Fathers execution.

My first memory as a small child was being taken to the women’s side of the prison and forced into a small dirty cell with a woman that I was told was my mother; I was six or seven. I had no recollection of this woman as I had been taken away at birth. We spend one full day and night eating and sleeping together before being awaken early and marched to the execution yard. We were roughly shoved to the front of the execution yard between hundreds of prisoners ordered there to watch the Public Executions of the day. We were halted directly in front of a post that had been pounded into the ground and stood about six feet high; it was numbered 21 in a long line of identical posts running in both directions. It was covered in layers of old dried blood and was pocked with bullet holes. A small sickly tattered man with ripped rotten clothing was tied to the post by three Uniformed Guards; a torn label that read AO1271 was crudely sown to the right upper chest area of his shirt. He had horrible scars covering his arms that looked like thick twisted ropes Kris crossing both arms and running from wrist to upper arm and over both shoulders. Through his torn shirt I could see his chest was also covered in scars. Lesser new cuts and welts filled in the crevasses between the deep old scars on his arms and face, his head hung to his chest as they finished tying him; one guard turned and walked directly to my Mother and I. He asked if we had any words for the Prisoner. I remember looking up at my Mother and seeing a single tear running down her face; she said no. We were both grabbed and pushed backwards several yards.

He did not raise his head or show any indication that he understood his crimes during the reading of his sentence.

I jumped as the bark of the automatic rifles spit their death.

Directly after the ceremony I was taken back to the men’s side of Camp 9 and placed in isolation. I was beaten for four days before the Captain of the Guard released me to the infirmary.

I was moved back to my cell block after two weeks of healing from the beatings. There was a man in the infirmary with horrible wounds from beatings and torture; he was tied as I was and rode along with me in the bed of the truck to my block. The Sergeant of the guard Liu Kim met us at the gate. He ordered me to tend to the prisoners wounds; he explained my life was tied to the life of the new prisoner and if he died, I’d die too. I washed and tended to his wounds every minute of the day and night. Five weeks passed before he showed signs of recovery; he was very fat and of little fitness. He wished daily to die and be released from his torment.

At nine weeks my blessed Captain released me from my duties of the fat prisoner and he was taken away; I was returned to my work unit very fit after so much time at rest. I have not seen the unfit prisoner since.

We have a new prisoner in our unit; he’s fair of skin and of Political stature; we’ve been warned to treat him with respect. He’s been bunked along side of me and he speaks treasonous thoughts in the early hours of the night when no one but I can hear him. He speaks of great wealth and unlimited food; my stomach aches from his words. He says that food and wealth is unlimited for a hard worker outside of the prison and South of the DMZ in South Korea, just miles away from the wire of our Camp; no more than sixty miles from where we now lay.

I dream of such comforts.

I’ve been assigned to Southern wire cleaning and conditioning along with Dong Kim our soft political prisoner. Our jobs are to pull weeds and clear brush along the electrified wire. We with ten other prisoners cut and hoe everything back twenty feet from the wire to dust. Our group is charged with cleaning along fifty miles of the border fence that separates North and South Korea. We’ve been on this duty for three weeks as of this coming week. Kim continues to talk of escape in the early hours of the night and I fear of detection. I’ve decided to attempt to escape on our next one week posting to cleansing the wire, then flee South with comrade Kim.

On the night of the sixth there is little moon and we slip from our cell block and clear the parade yard without being seen. I’m surprised how few guards there are patrolling the prison; the guard’s houses are dark and the dogs are quiet. The night is warm and a slight breeze blows directly south; I dream as we walk of a full stomach and soft living.

The border fence appears out of the darkness and we stand just feet from it looking at its height and double wire. I’ve never looked directly at the border fence before as it is forbidden by the guards to even sneak a look while clearing debris during our work days; doing so warrants a swift beating and removal from the clearing team, soft easy work compared to others. There are innumerable electrical insulators with heavy wire crossing the face of the fence running taunt between the posts no more than a few inches between wires. Barbed wire covers the back of the fence facing the southern side its barbs each a full twenty centimeters long and razor sharp; fence top woven with feet deep of twisted concertina wire and cement post tops embedded with broken glass. A shudder runs through my body; Dong Kim picks up a small branch from where we cleaned the brambles two days earlier and touches an electrified wire. A loud snap and the branch erupt into fire and we both jump back; my bowels loosen. Electricity I know nothing of; it’s magic that I can’t comprehend.

“We must dig under.” Dong whispers quietly, he waves me to join him at a small natural dip in the ground. I grab a section of tree bark using it as a hoe pulling sand from under the lowest wire. I’m careful and handle only the farthest centimeters of bark keeping as far away from the wire as I’m able. I’m covered in nervous sweat before even the first telling of effort enters my arms and chest.

Dong Kim grabs my arm hard; his eyes barely visible in the dark are wide and scared. He nods his head towards the east; I hear it now also. A patrol is nearing where we are working. Our labor has only opened a hollow in the ground under the wire barely large enough to tightly squeeze under and shallower on the south side.

“Wish me luck!” Dong pushes me back and dives for the hollow. I fall on my butt and watch as he flattens himself and wiggles under the fence. His feet kick sand in the air and he pushes sand to the side as though he is swimming in sandy water.

The flash is blinding and a deafening snap hits my ears; my eyes adjust to the glare of the sun from the guards flashlights as a rifle butt impacts my forehead.

I now remember the stink of burning clothing and searing flesh; I sit tied tightly in isolation awaiting my next interrogation and torture. I hope for a quick death; my thoughts return to visions of warm food and soft blankets; my head lies softly on pillows as I drift gently to sleep.

Keys sound in locks; my time has come. I will dream of ample food and soft living as the click of safeties announces my ending; I taste sweet warm meat gravy….



From the Ramblings



t

Time to go home

What peculiar days; bright sunny not a cloud in the sky, dead hot stagnant air, not a breath of a wind.
I haven’t seen this kind of strange weather before; rain snow cold weather is the norm. Summer like conditions this time of year is nothing like deer season I’ve known over the last thirty years in these mountains.

I found a decent spot to make camp took the obligatory pictures and settled in for the next fourteen days.

Been here since Tuesday and deer season doesn’t start until Saturday. I decided to leave for the hunt early and have some camping time before the big hunt starts. Two more days until season starts and I’ve about had enough of the camping mode; remind me next year arriving four days before season is way too long.

I’ve driven around for last two days picking up wood and looking for the perfect tree to cut down “logging” is what I call it. I’m trying to get enough wood cut and stacked for the camp fire to last the ten days of the hunting season, there won’t be time for logging once it starts.

I’ve worked all the components of my pack, even wrapped my gun with camo cloth. I’m as ready as I’m going to be.

I’ve got a plan; I’m going to hop in the truck after the sun rises Saturday morning and road hunt my way to Airplane ridge; there’s even a sign nailed to a tree as you bounce along the rutted road towards another ridge in the myriad of ridges that tells you, you’ve arrived at Airplane Ridge. I’ll hunt the opening morning along the ridge and hope to spot a deer, after that I’ve got nothing, no plan as of yet.

Sitting in the trailer in the late afternoon heat I decide to watch a movie about an alien invasion. My son gave me a hard drive with about 500 movies on it for the long nights in camp by myself. I choose to watch “Invasion” staring Nicole Kidman; I’m going to lose it if they show her in her panties one more time...

The movie is half over and I’ve drank two going on three beers while Nicole flaunts her perfect behind in front of the camera. I’m having some rather evil thoughts towards Nicole and woman hood in general after an hour watching her prance around. I’m thinking we’d be the perfect couple rolling and twisting the sheets into tight knots as I expertly make love to her hours and hours into the night; yeah right.

Popping the tap on beer number four the movie is just about coming to an end I find myself needing to relieve the bladder; pausing the movie I head for the trailer door; I don’t use the trailer’s bathroom when you can step outside and use the great outdoors and pick any ol’ spot.

As I clear the door and step down the three steps I realize there’s a man sitting in my camp chair not ten feet from me; he’s facing away towards the fire as though he’s part of my camp and enjoying the warmth of the fire I’ve made. I skid to a halt just clearing the last step; he turns his head while sitting in my chair and with a wide smile on his face he welcomes me.

“Hello brother; come enjoy the fire a spell.” He says with a big welcoming smile; he turns further waving an arm in a huge gesture towards the fire.

“What the fuck?” slips from my lips as I have a massive adrenaline dump; feels like I’m going to pass out or run a marathon.

“Who are you?” I gasp as the adrenaline whips snakes up and down my legs and spine.

“I’m Brother Theodore!” Standing up from my chair, turning towards me; “I and Jesus are here to save you!” He says with fevered enthusiasm, his arms and hands emphasize his statement; again he jesters towards the fire welcoming me to join him. I was in such shock that I didn’t even realize now standing he must be at least seven foot tall if not taller; He towers over me at my height of five foot eight.

He’s dressed in clothing from another time. I’d suppose one might have dressed like that if you lived in the early nineteenth century and were a dingy cowboy preacher. He wore dark trousers with what might have passed as a white shirt decades ago; a slim black tie hung from around his neck bound by a lose knot. He wore an open black duster with dull dirty brass buttons that reached nearly to his knees. His face was cast in shadows by a heavy wide brim dusty sweat soaked black hat set low over his eyes. His appearance beckoned one back to the past; his boots once black now covered in streaks of dust clinging to the leather soles heavily worn.

“How’d you get in my camp?” I squeak standing on shaky legs; not ten feet separated me from the aberration.

“Jesus works in many ways; I’ve come to bring you his word; I’ll take you home.” The stranger says in a low but somehow booming voice in my head even though it’s not loud to my ears.

“I’m not going any where’s.” I say while trembling on wooden posts that once were my legs. I inch shuffle backwards towards the steps I’ve just come down.

“Join me brother and I’ll show you the way to his kingdom in heaven, AMEN!” explodes in my head. He steps around my camp chair taking a step towards where I’m standing closing the distance with one huge long step.

“No……….” I shout as I step up onto the first step leading into the safety of the trailer.

“Jesus loves you; it’s your time to grasp the loving hand of your SAVOR!” The booming voice roars in my head. He takes another step closing the distance between us as I mount the second step into the trailer.

Shaking my head from side to side “No; I don’t’ know what you want; stay back” I shout weakly from frozen lips.

With both arms stretched straight out he takes the last step to me “Stop now or I’ll shoot!” I shout into his face as I pull my side arm from its holster.

With grasping hands he reaches for my gun, grabbing towards the protruding barrel.

The blasts echo through the trees; bright flashes of light as the mussel blast flashes against the dingy white of the stranger’s shirt like flash bulbs. Two, three, four explosions from the stubby forty five shake’s the still hot afternoon air.

Clothes flap from impacts; dust clouds jet into the air evaporating the colors of the day; one long overlapping calamity of thunder bouncing and rebounding off the distant hills.

I step back into the safety of the trailer slamming the door and twisting the lock; the blinking light of the computer screen asks “Play again.”

My ears ring from unprotected blasts of .45 auto max loads at point blank range; I fall into my chair as I drop and push a fresh magazine into the stubby .45

Looking out the window I can’t see the stranger; he must have fallen where he was hit multiple times. Standing I can’t see him anywhere from any of the windows; I press my face hard against every window; I wait numbing minutes on end.

Forty five minutes with gun in hand waiting for the scratch at the door, the dragging pulling of a hemorrhaged body along the dirt, none comes. My hand aches from grasping the .45 with such force for so long.

Opening the trailer door a quarter inch; further, I can’t find a sign of struggle, only the burnt shell casings from my .45 lay on the dusty ground gleaming reflections of the sun where he should have fallen.

Where has he gone? Was he ever really there? no blood, no torn flesh, not a drop of precious blood marks the quarter of our fight.

I’m heading home early; I’ll tell the wife that I just wasn’t seeing anything. She’ll believe that. I think I’ve had about enough of deer hunting; I never get one any anyway.

I’ll sell my guns, the trailer; I think I’ll just stay a little closer to home from now on; I never really enjoyed hunting by myself anyway.



From the Ramblings…………….

t

Innocent

Alpha 56 over.

Sky watch Alpha 56 copy over.

Alpha 56 copy target link tango one Lima 01 over.

Sky watch, go with link over.

Up link Alpha 56, copy up link, thanks over. Alpha 56 on standby over.

Sky watch copy; Alpha 56 relay Delta 6 Zulu alpha 9 copy up link lima 01 over.

Zulu copy up link; Alpha 56 link 5 by 5 copy over.

The alpha up link of suspected terrorist Alama Al-Ca Zomni was sent via high speed data link to Data Com US via the new satellite com set Delta Z satellites brought on line in late 2014 in conjunction with U.S. Data Com Defense and went active in early April of 2015.

“Don what do you have?” Dave Zeph said with a hand over his yawn.

“Oh one of our eyes in the sky have a possible sighting of a target, subject Alama Al-Ca Zomni.” Don Watson said without much enthusiasm. “Some place in Afghanistan.” “It’s one of those computer facial I.D. stat links.”

“Ok let’s look him up and see what we have.” Dave said as he reached and pulled a fat book from the selves hanging over his com desk. “Let’s see who we have, maybe he’s a big shot.”

Slowly turning pages Dave Zeph wasn’t just looking at pictures in a book, he was looking at the faces of some of America’s most hated enemies; faces of those who had killed or wounded countless American’s in the decade’s long war on terrorism. “Thank god they put them in alphabetic order; they all look the same to me.” Dave said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m so damn tired of looking at these faces.”

“Well at least we only look for the top of know killers and don’t have a data base full of thousands of faces of every terrorist out there like Israel does.” Said Don Watson chief of I.D. bringing a cup of stale coffee to his lips.

“I’ve heard it can take weeks for them to I.D. a guy and by that time he’s long gone.” Dave said with a little laugh.

“Here we go Zomni; born in Afghanistan, he was trained in Iraq from 2005 to 2009 before becoming head of the Northern group in 2010.” “Says here he was last seen in Iraq in 2011.”

“Got a good picture of him?” Don asked.

“Yeah, I’ll put it up on the screen.” Dave slid the photo under the over head projector and Alama Al-Ca Zomni filled the room.

Looking between the Alpha 56 photos and the large screen filling the room there was little questioning that the two people in the pictures were the same man.

“Run the video from 56.” Don asked.

“Yeah that’s him alright.” Dave said. “Don’t you think so?” He asked.

“Sure looks like him. The damn angle is all wrong in 56’s pictures. Must be from maximum angle; it’s just hard to see clearly.” Don said sounding not so convinced.

“Will the computer is 95% clear that’s our subject; Alama Al-Ca Zomni is a high ranking member and on the top ten kill list.” Dave said with excitement.

“Can we get another run on this guy by 56?” Don asked. “I just can’t make a clear decision on what I’m seeing here; I’m not positive it’s our guy. Damn sure looks like him thought.”

“Well let me see what we got.” Don said with an irritated edge to his voice.

Sky watch 56.

Alpha 56 over.

Sky watch requesting additional eyes on target Lima 01 over.

Alpha 56 copy additional eyes on target tango Lima 01 over; stand by, turning 270 at 16 five zero, mark.

Alpha 56 now five miles south of the targeted subject made a hard right hand turn at sixteen thousand five hundred feet and slowly turned to make another high speed pass over the targets position.

Alpha 56 stand by to copy pass.

Sky watch copy.

Alpha 56 copy down link.

Sky watch link 5 by 5 Alpha 56.

Dave and Don watched as the down link of Alpha 56’s high speed pass loaded into the data com’s computer and images flashed on the large screen. It showed a medium height man of about 5’6 walking with two other men towards a mason stone house just outside of Mosul Iraq. In the back ground sat a dark colored medium sized sedan with the driver standing at the side.

“Give me a close up of that guy.” Don asked.

The large screen filled with a close up of a thirty something dark haired man with sunglasses walking towards the camera talking to a large man on his left. The picture was grainy with the amplification and the lack of pixels.

“I think that’s him, no I’m positive that’s him!” Dave Zeph said. “We’ve got to hit him now; it could be months before we find him again.”

“Oh…. I’m just not sure. He’s not known to be in this area.” Don said in a quiet voice. “This isn’t part of his normal territory.” “The computer is only at 65% positive I.D.”

“It’s him……. I’m giving the order to strike.” Dave said with excitement.

“Dave what if it isn’t him, I’m just not sure; it would be better to let him go then to get the wrong guy.” Don said with worry creeping into his voice.

Dave Zeph was in command of the shift and his word carried any decision to strike.

Sky watch 56.

Alpha 56 over.

Sky watch you are cleared to fire on subject.

Alpha 56 roger cleared to fire on subject target tango Lima 01 over confirm.

Sky watch target tango Lima 01 fire confirm.

Alpha 56 copy.

Alpha 56 Hellfire away, good engine, good track, tracking….. Target destroyed.

Sky watch copy, good job over and out.

Alpha 56 on standby over.

Iraq officials report the death of a high ranking Iraqi business man today. He leaves behind a wife and three young children. Officials have ruled out insurgent car bombing and are looking into reports of the death.

The drone war continues.

From the Ramblings.

t

Eddy White

The electrical pulse shook him like lighting striking a tree. Once, twice, three times; weakening, fading to irregular jolts then stopping. He would have climaxed if he was able, but Mom’s live in boy friend number eleven had taken care of that when he was just five. He lowered the now still body to the bathroom floor dropping the long skinny knife into the sink. He sat on the toilet looking at the bloody ruined girl; his mind still tingling from the jolts as the life ran out of her. What was her name? He just couldn’t get his brain to remember what she had said. Julie? He tried that name out loud “Julie?” Shaking his head he decided that wasn’t it, maybe it’ll come to me later. “When I remember I’ll say a prayer for you.” He said to the dead girl lying in a pool of jelling blood; one long stream wondered across the tile floor towards the center drain but ended just short, thickening and freezing in its path.

Eddy sat with his head in his hands and remembered the day he discovered the power.

It was a Tuesday, a very sad day in Eddie’s life when a big black junky had Eddy by the neck in a dark alley robbing him of everything he had and promising to cut his head and dick off if he didn’t empty his pockets real fast. Last thing out of Eddies pocket was his favorite straight blade of six inches with a cheap deer horned handle. Realizing what was in his hand at the last moment before throwing it on top of the pitiful pile of what Eddy called his; he stepped into the large black man and jammed the knife into the man’s chest. Eddy was hit with a shock that felt like 220 going on a douse of 440 straight from Con Edison Power. He couldn’t let go of the knife as the large man fought to get away and rode him to the pavement landing in the cold nasty water; Eddy jerked with the dying mans current until it faded and stopped. It was better than the sexual climax Eddy would never have. He’d watched it numerous times on sex TV as the skinny bitches barked and jumped at the wild pumping they were getting; he’d many times touched his broken toy and knew he’d never find the joy those bitches found there but he’d found something just as good.

Julie was number six in a long string of nearly nameless girl friends Eddy had come to acquire. Not really girl friends just worn out junkies that were willing to trade their bodies for a few bucks to score another baggy of whatever was their drug of choice. He’d promise them this or that, a few bucks; whatever it took to get them up to their rooms where he could plug into their hidden power.

“Bout fucking time you got home, where the fuck you been!” Delores screeched from the threadbare lazy boy chair. A dangling cigarette dropping a half inch of burnt ash into her lap as her fat jowls shook like jello from her shouting. “Where’s the gawd damn carton of cigarettes I asked you to buy me you worthless shit!”

Eddy shut the door behind him and stepped further into the house. Delores was Eddies Mom; now a full two hundred and twenty five pounds heavier than when she’d bring boyfriends home from the bars. She was also two hundred and twenty five times meaner than she’d ever been in her life and Eddy was the whipping boy for anything that Delores thought had wronged her.

“You’d better tell me you didn’t forget; you’re not retarded but you’re the damn stupidest child a Mother could have. How’d you manage to get through school you worthless fuck; oh that’s right you didn’t did you!” Delores tore into him.

Eddy headed for his room leaving Delores’s tirade hitting his back like a jack hammer. Eddy knew it’d take a good half hour for ’Mom’ to run slowly out of gas and the yelling would slacken off to just a few shouted insults a minute, then he’d find her sleeping and sneak out the front door again.

Eddy gave it an hour and forty five minute just to be sure and then snuck out the back door for good measure, Delores didn’t make a sound other than four or five snorts in between full fledged snoring. Five blocks down and three over was St. Mary's Basilica and Father Jameson; he needed to give a prayer for Julie and see the Father for a little business.

Sitting in the second from the last row he’d lowered his head and was doing his best job of trying to remember his last victims name; giving up he crossed himself and prayed for Julie.

Father Jameson sat down behind him in the empty row and in his soft voice “Eddy…. I thought maybe I’d lost our friendship; I haven’t seen you in a while my son.”

“Sorry Father, I’ve been really busy; I stopped in to pray for a close friend of mine.” Eddy said still looking at his hands in his lap.

“Is there anything else you are in need of my son?” Father Jameson whispered in his ear.

“Ummmm yes Father, I’m in dire need of fifth bucks. I hate to ask…. I know it’s a lot of money.” Eddy said half turning in his pew.

“I don’t think that’s too much Eddy this one time, we haven’t seen each other for quite some time. Go with me to the refectory and let me see what I have.” Father Jameson said and left the bench.

Eddy waited five minutes and stood, crossed himself and followed Father Jameson. Entering the private quarters Eddy saw Father Jameson standing in front of his large desk.

“Please shut the door Eddy.” Father Jameson said turning at the sound of footsteps.

Eddy walked up next to Father Jameson and stood just to his right. Father Jameson laid two twenties and two fives on the desk; Eddy sat on the desk next to the money. Father Jameson stood in front of Eddy unzipped and pulled Eddy’s pants and underwear to the floor. Eddy thought it was a lot of money to allow someone to give you a B.J. Father Jameson didn’t seem to mind that Eddy never got fully erect or ever came in his mouth; it must have been enough just to give the boy a blow job. Eddy didn’t even mind that he was always asked to sit closely and watch Father Jameson masturbate afterwards; it was far less than Mom’s boy friend’s had done with him.

Eddy had good use for the monies he’d made from Father Jameson and the money he’d taken from two of his last victim’s purses.

Eddy’s first and only stop was at Wilson’s knife shop; he’d given the owner a pencil drawing and received a bid on the knife Eddy wanted to have made. He just needed a little more money to have his special knife made.

Ten days later he had his new knife; honed from 440 stainless steel with a blood groove cut on both sides which then was filled with a Silver/Copper mix of metal running from one quarter inch of the point though the handle to the butt. His drawing called for double hollow grind and the handle to be enlarged with the same mix of Silver/Copper and heavy checkering beat into the oval handle from quillion to the butt.

The owner Mr. Wilson told Eddy that it was a nice looking knife, but he’d better be careful cutting anything that was very hardened or he’d have trouble with that Silver/Copper inlay work. Eddy assured him he’d be very careful.

Eddy found Tammy at the bowling alley stuffing curly fries in her mouth. She continued to pork them down ignoring Eddy until Eddy mentioned he just might have some coke he’d be willing to share. Tammy was ready to go in less than five minutes and it was a short walk to her apartment.

The banging on the door woke Eddy from his stupor, yelling “Police open the door!” got Eddy to his feet fast. Looking around Eddy suddenly remembered the evening; shoving the new knife into Tammy’s heart Eddy got such a jolt with the good electrical connection that he’d dropped to the floor faster than Tammy did with the knife glued to his hand. He flopped like a grounded fish until Tammy’s heart finally stopped; he must have passed out.

Looking towards the door Eddy saw what had brought the Police to Tammy’s door. A thick black river of blood twisted and coiled from Tammy’s twisted body into the kitchen and then made a hard turn running along the floor board swinging out around the door jam and into the hallway under the front door. Eddy was toast; pulling his new special knife from Tammy’s chest he placed the razor sharp edge against his neck and turned back towards the door. The Police gave one more warning and kicked the door in.

Both Officers with guns drawn charged through the door and into the small front room. Eddy slowly turned away from them spraying both Officers down in a thick heavy spray of blood from his severed jugular vein.

Eddy died with a smile on his face; he’d finally achieved a climax.



From the Ramblings

t