Day 121: 30 Nov 2010
I managed to avoid them for most of the day today. They got close a couple of times, but I'm pretty small. I can hide pretty easily.
Unfortunately, I couldn't just play hide and seek all day. They were bound to find me eventually. And they did, late in the night when the temperature was at its lowest.
I was wedged under a sheet of ice, watching them pass by. They'd moved outward from their dig site in a grid pattern for the last couple days, and we were probably 8 or 9 miles away from it. I'd hidden under this ice floe twice before, and never had a problem -- but this time, I let a breath out at the wrong time, I guess. They saw the steam and dragged me out.
When I'd seen them pass by earlier, they were moving in teams of five, but not anymore. Now it was all of them, Travis and Black included. I managed to get free of the two slug-soldiers who'd grabbed me by the arms. I ran, but I didn't get far before they closed in around me. I jumped, flying over their heads -- but one of them caught my ankle. I slammed hard into the ice, cracking it with my skull.
Still, I managed to get to my feet and get my hands up, ready to fight. What I saw was quite odd -- all of them, all 24 men, stood frozen. Then, Travis and Black, who were at the back of the group, ran. But they didn't run towards me -- they hightailed it away like something was chasing them.
It didn't make any kind of sense. They had me dead to rights, and they should have ripped me into pieces, but they didn't. They just stood there, frozen, staring.
I hit one of them in the face, and he didn't react, didn't even flinch. That's when I realized they weren't afraid of me at all. It was something else.
I turned my head around as far as it would go, trying to keep an eye on the 22 soldiers in case they moved. What I saw almost made me forget about them entirely, and definitely made me turn all the way around and stare, dumbstruck, frozen. Just like the soldiers who'd been ready to kill me.
There, hovering about twenty feet off the ground, was the God of the Skies. His six wings beat so fast they were a blur, but he made no noise at all. It was impressive, especially for a being as large as he. I estimated two Boeing 747s could land on his back with room to spare.
I felt no fear, only awe as he and I stared at each other. He resembled a gigantic, six-winged dragonfly with an opalescent blue body and clear, gossamer wings. His eyes, though, were odd. They weren't insectoid at all, not compound like a dragonfly's. They looked almost human.
Travis and Black had been smart to run. In a blur of motion, the God of the Skies shot over my head, diving low, nearly clipping the top of my skull as he swept down. He flew through the soldiers, body parts flying in all directions, blood raining from the sky as he climbed high into the night.
He slowly floated back down and hovered right in front of me. His eyes should have scared the fuck out of me, but they didn't. There was something warm in them, something almost friendly.
Come, his voice echoed in my mind. It was a familiar voice. He was the one who had led me to Thule. He'd managed to turn the volume down since then, though.
Come with me, he said. We have a lot of work to do, and I fear we have very little time.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Day One Hundred and Twenty
Day 120: 29 Nov 2010
Well, this hasn't gone well at all. I've gone from picking them off one by one to trying to hide from them. So far, I've managed to avoid detection, but I don't know how long that'll hold.
At least they've stopped digging for the moment. I guess they're more concerned with finding and killing me right now.
Well, this hasn't gone well at all. I've gone from picking them off one by one to trying to hide from them. So far, I've managed to avoid detection, but I don't know how long that'll hold.
At least they've stopped digging for the moment. I guess they're more concerned with finding and killing me right now.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Day One Hundred and Nineteen
Day 119: 28 Nov 2010
I had two extra men, and the curiosity was nagging me. I sent them out with orders to stay low, be careful. They returned three hours later with a body.
It was a young black man, tall, muscular, and shot once through the right eye. My soldiers reported that when they found him five miles away, he was still warm. He hadn't been dead long.
Was this the man? The one responsible for the disappearance of my sentries? I couldn't very well ask him in his present condition, unfortunately. I ordered my men to put him aside and finish cutting through the ice. We were so close now.
The stranger approached near midnight. He was walking on foot, and dressed in layers of cold weather gear -- military spec. Like the clothes worb by the ones we'd eliminated back at Thule. He had an assault rifle, but he carried it high over his head, broadcasting his nonthreatening intentions. We let him approach.
"My name is Jason Black!" he yelled as he came closer. "I am a worshipper of the God of the Land! He has called me here!"
I was skeptical until he showed me the tattoo across his shoulder blades. He had the mark, and we welcomed him.
I had two extra men, and the curiosity was nagging me. I sent them out with orders to stay low, be careful. They returned three hours later with a body.
It was a young black man, tall, muscular, and shot once through the right eye. My soldiers reported that when they found him five miles away, he was still warm. He hadn't been dead long.
Was this the man? The one responsible for the disappearance of my sentries? I couldn't very well ask him in his present condition, unfortunately. I ordered my men to put him aside and finish cutting through the ice. We were so close now.
The stranger approached near midnight. He was walking on foot, and dressed in layers of cold weather gear -- military spec. Like the clothes worb by the ones we'd eliminated back at Thule. He had an assault rifle, but he carried it high over his head, broadcasting his nonthreatening intentions. We let him approach.
"My name is Jason Black!" he yelled as he came closer. "I am a worshipper of the God of the Land! He has called me here!"
I was skeptical until he showed me the tattoo across his shoulder blades. He had the mark, and we welcomed him.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Day One Hundred and Eighteen
Day 118: 27 Nov 2010
We -- well, to be honest, I've managed to take out three of Travis' people. He sent out one sentry first. He was easy to pick off, and I drove my fist through his chest and tore out his heart. I expected to feel bad about doing that. But I didn't. Not in the slightest.
Then, like a bad episode of Scooby Doo, Travis sent more sentries out to look for the first. I took those out, as well.
And now. . . well, we're just waiting to see if he sends out four this time.
We -- well, to be honest, I've managed to take out three of Travis' people. He sent out one sentry first. He was easy to pick off, and I drove my fist through his chest and tore out his heart. I expected to feel bad about doing that. But I didn't. Not in the slightest.
Then, like a bad episode of Scooby Doo, Travis sent more sentries out to look for the first. I took those out, as well.
And now. . . well, we're just waiting to see if he sends out four this time.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Day One Hundred and Seventeen
Day 117: 26 Nov 2010
Another two sentries missing. When I reach out to their minds to determine their status, I get. . . nothing. I sent these two to look for the first one. Something in Travis' mind called it a "stupid horror movie move." Not sure what that is.
The death of my soldiers is highly a unlikely scenario. Nothing these humans have can kill them, short of massive explosions. I do mean massive, like on the scale of a small nuclear explosion. A block or two of C4 won't do it.
There are other possibilities. Entrapment is possible, though I should be able to get some reading from them in that event. Unconsciousness is also feasible. A particularly high fall could render one of them uncommunicative -- though probably not for as long as the first sentry's been gone. Truth be told, I have no real theory on what happened to them.
It's no matter. We can perform the ceremony with only twenty. We continue to break through the ice -- we're now more than 30 feet down, and I'm starting to sense something. A presence, powerful. It must be the God of the Land.
Won't be long now.
Another two sentries missing. When I reach out to their minds to determine their status, I get. . . nothing. I sent these two to look for the first one. Something in Travis' mind called it a "stupid horror movie move." Not sure what that is.
The death of my soldiers is highly a unlikely scenario. Nothing these humans have can kill them, short of massive explosions. I do mean massive, like on the scale of a small nuclear explosion. A block or two of C4 won't do it.
There are other possibilities. Entrapment is possible, though I should be able to get some reading from them in that event. Unconsciousness is also feasible. A particularly high fall could render one of them uncommunicative -- though probably not for as long as the first sentry's been gone. Truth be told, I have no real theory on what happened to them.
It's no matter. We can perform the ceremony with only twenty. We continue to break through the ice -- we're now more than 30 feet down, and I'm starting to sense something. A presence, powerful. It must be the God of the Land.
Won't be long now.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Day One Hundred and Sixteen
Day 116: 25 Nov 2010
The God of the Land has not been as easy to raise as we were lead to believe. For one, he's deep down. Much deeper than the researchers in the West Coast Syndicate thought. Working to free him-- to claw through the ice -- has been hard. My soldiers do not complain, but of course, they wouldn't.
We have no drilling tools or heavy machinery with us. We brought none. There was none at the base. We did not think we would need it -- the West Coast information said perhaps five feet of ice, no more. We passed five feet a day and a half ago. We're now three times that depth, and still no closer to the God of the Land, it seems.
And now, another problem. A sentry -- one of my men I sent ten miles out to scout the area and report back -- has not returned. He would not be late. That's something that is not possible for his slug. Nor is an accident that would leave him crippled. There is nothing in this environment that could incapacitate him.
This leaves me with only one other possibility for his absence. Someone has delayed him. And that. . . that is very bad news.
The God of the Land has not been as easy to raise as we were lead to believe. For one, he's deep down. Much deeper than the researchers in the West Coast Syndicate thought. Working to free him-- to claw through the ice -- has been hard. My soldiers do not complain, but of course, they wouldn't.
We have no drilling tools or heavy machinery with us. We brought none. There was none at the base. We did not think we would need it -- the West Coast information said perhaps five feet of ice, no more. We passed five feet a day and a half ago. We're now three times that depth, and still no closer to the God of the Land, it seems.
And now, another problem. A sentry -- one of my men I sent ten miles out to scout the area and report back -- has not returned. He would not be late. That's something that is not possible for his slug. Nor is an accident that would leave him crippled. There is nothing in this environment that could incapacitate him.
This leaves me with only one other possibility for his absence. Someone has delayed him. And that. . . that is very bad news.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Day One Hundred and Fifteen
Day 115: 24 Nov 2010
I wanted to board the boat as soon as it docked, but Captain Black held up one hand to stop me.
"Hold on. We've got no idea who or what is on that boat, and you're not armed. I'll go in first."
He raised his M4 into firing position. Slowly, he inched toward the boat, sighting down the barrel of the gun as he moved. When Ronan stepped out, Black nearly shot him.
"Whoa! Calm down! He's on our side!" I said.
Black gradually lowered his weapon, not taking his eyes off Ronan for a second. Ronan just gave Black a passing glance as he sighed heavily, steam from his lungs filling the air.
He didn't look very good. Not at all. Even bundled up in his parka and hood, I could see Ronan's face looked leaner. Gaunt, I guess. He looked beyond tired.
"Cassie," he said with a weak wave. "Any luck in Texas?"
I just shook my head. Ronan nodded inland at the destroyed base.
"Yeah, you can see I didn't do a bang-up job, either. Are they here?"
"If they're on base, we haven't seen 'em," Black said. "Mind telling me who you are?"
"I told you, Captain, he's on our side. Where will they have gone, Ronan?"
"Further inland. According to the work the West Coast Syndicate was doing, the place they're looking for is about forty miles east of the base."
"That jives with my Intel. Cassie, if you're willing to vouch for this guy, I'll have my chopper take us in."
"I am," I said.
"Chopper's a bad idea, man. They'll hear it coming miles off. We need a quieter ride."
"The base has a couple of Snow Cats. Assuming Travis and his people didn't destroy them, we can take one of those most of the way, then walk it in."
"That's better."
"And what are we supposed to do when we get there? Let them kill us as easy as they killed everyone on the base?" I asked.
Ronan just looked at me for a long moment. He shook his head slowly.
"You mean. . . you don't know?"
"Know what?" I said.
"Cassie, honey. . . you're strong enough to kill them with your bare hands. You're the only one who can," Ronan told me.
I wanted to board the boat as soon as it docked, but Captain Black held up one hand to stop me.
"Hold on. We've got no idea who or what is on that boat, and you're not armed. I'll go in first."
He raised his M4 into firing position. Slowly, he inched toward the boat, sighting down the barrel of the gun as he moved. When Ronan stepped out, Black nearly shot him.
"Whoa! Calm down! He's on our side!" I said.
Black gradually lowered his weapon, not taking his eyes off Ronan for a second. Ronan just gave Black a passing glance as he sighed heavily, steam from his lungs filling the air.
He didn't look very good. Not at all. Even bundled up in his parka and hood, I could see Ronan's face looked leaner. Gaunt, I guess. He looked beyond tired.
"Cassie," he said with a weak wave. "Any luck in Texas?"
I just shook my head. Ronan nodded inland at the destroyed base.
"Yeah, you can see I didn't do a bang-up job, either. Are they here?"
"If they're on base, we haven't seen 'em," Black said. "Mind telling me who you are?"
"I told you, Captain, he's on our side. Where will they have gone, Ronan?"
"Further inland. According to the work the West Coast Syndicate was doing, the place they're looking for is about forty miles east of the base."
"That jives with my Intel. Cassie, if you're willing to vouch for this guy, I'll have my chopper take us in."
"I am," I said.
"Chopper's a bad idea, man. They'll hear it coming miles off. We need a quieter ride."
"The base has a couple of Snow Cats. Assuming Travis and his people didn't destroy them, we can take one of those most of the way, then walk it in."
"That's better."
"And what are we supposed to do when we get there? Let them kill us as easy as they killed everyone on the base?" I asked.
Ronan just looked at me for a long moment. He shook his head slowly.
"You mean. . . you don't know?"
"Know what?" I said.
"Cassie, honey. . . you're strong enough to kill them with your bare hands. You're the only one who can," Ronan told me.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Day 114: 23 Nov 2010
We could see Thule was wrecked before we even landed. The fires had gone out, but the place looked like it had been bombed. It also looked quiet -- we didn't see anyone moving below as our Black Hawk touched down.
"Heat scans read nil," Vince's guy said. He'd introduced himself as Captain Jason Black, but I doubt that's his real name.
"Nothing?" I asked.
"Nada. And that's odd. In this kind of cold, we should be picking up something -- even if it's just a space heater in a building down there. But nope."
We were dressed in ECWG -- extreme cold weather gear. It was just me and Captain Black. The pilot stayed in the chopper, but not us. We started to walk through the dark, silent base.
"Dead body," Black warned, but I'd already seen it. I see well in the dark. It was a man, dressed in the same ECWG as we were, but he was missing his head.
"I expect we'll find a lot more of these," I said.
"Agree. So what do we do if we run up against one of the slug. . . things? We really need a name for them."
"Not a clue," I said. "And I've just been calling them slugs."
"I'll stick with 'hostiles' for the moment."
Black's radio suddenly burst to life.
"Captain, we have an unidentified vessel closing in, looks like it's heading for the dock."
"Copy that," Black said. "Come on. Let's see who's come out to meet us."
He raised the M4 from his chest strap and led the way to the dock.
We could see Thule was wrecked before we even landed. The fires had gone out, but the place looked like it had been bombed. It also looked quiet -- we didn't see anyone moving below as our Black Hawk touched down.
"Heat scans read nil," Vince's guy said. He'd introduced himself as Captain Jason Black, but I doubt that's his real name.
"Nothing?" I asked.
"Nada. And that's odd. In this kind of cold, we should be picking up something -- even if it's just a space heater in a building down there. But nope."
We were dressed in ECWG -- extreme cold weather gear. It was just me and Captain Black. The pilot stayed in the chopper, but not us. We started to walk through the dark, silent base.
"Dead body," Black warned, but I'd already seen it. I see well in the dark. It was a man, dressed in the same ECWG as we were, but he was missing his head.
"I expect we'll find a lot more of these," I said.
"Agree. So what do we do if we run up against one of the slug. . . things? We really need a name for them."
"Not a clue," I said. "And I've just been calling them slugs."
"I'll stick with 'hostiles' for the moment."
Black's radio suddenly burst to life.
"Captain, we have an unidentified vessel closing in, looks like it's heading for the dock."
"Copy that," Black said. "Come on. Let's see who's come out to meet us."
He raised the M4 from his chest strap and led the way to the dock.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Day One Hundred and Thirteen
Day 113: 22 Nov 2010
We knew the military expected us. Their machines would definitely alert them to our father's approach. After all, he is nearly three times the size of the Ohio-class submarine.
We were ready for attack as we stepped onto land. The Air Force did not disappoint. While not a combat base -- Thule is filled with scientists and aerospace engineers -- they put up a fight. Bullets started flying the second we approached the base, and kept coming at us as we rushed inside.
They put up a good fight. But it didn't last long. By midnight, the base was ours.
We knew the military expected us. Their machines would definitely alert them to our father's approach. After all, he is nearly three times the size of the Ohio-class submarine.
We were ready for attack as we stepped onto land. The Air Force did not disappoint. While not a combat base -- Thule is filled with scientists and aerospace engineers -- they put up a fight. Bullets started flying the second we approached the base, and kept coming at us as we rushed inside.
They put up a good fight. But it didn't last long. By midnight, the base was ours.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Day One Hundred and Twelve
Day 112: 21 Nov 2010
Finally got a hold of Dane today. He's back home, resting up from two broken legs. I told him about Vince.
"Did he go down shooting?" Dane asked.
"He did."
"That's how he would have wanted it, then. So they've released the. . ."
"The God of the Skies. I think so. And I think it's been talking to me."
"Interesting. There's some history to support that. I know the sea god talked to his people."
"He said Thule. Any idea what that means?"
"You Google it yet?"
"No," I said. "Haven't been near a computer for a few days."
"Give me a second," Dane said. I heard him typing on a keyboard. "Here we go. Thule, or Thyïlea. It's referred to in medieval maps as a 'region to the far north.'"
"So, the North Pole? Like, Santa and shit?"
"Well, in a more modern sense, could refer to Thule in Greenland. A US Air Force Base. About 700 miles North of the Arctic Circle. Not the friendliest place in the world."
Something clicked in my head, and I knew that was it.
"That's the place," I said. "I need to get up there. Could be my last chance to stop this."
"Vincent had a guy. This is the guy who got him weapons, choppers. That kind of stuff. I've never met him, but Vincent left me a way to contact him in case something ever happened to him. I'll call."
"Do you even know who this guy is?"
"Nope. Not by name. Vince said he worked out of Area 51, but that's all I know."
"You think he'll help us?"
"He's Vince's boss. I'm sure he will. Get back to Vegas -- I'll have it sorted by the time you land."
Finally got a hold of Dane today. He's back home, resting up from two broken legs. I told him about Vince.
"Did he go down shooting?" Dane asked.
"He did."
"That's how he would have wanted it, then. So they've released the. . ."
"The God of the Skies. I think so. And I think it's been talking to me."
"Interesting. There's some history to support that. I know the sea god talked to his people."
"He said Thule. Any idea what that means?"
"You Google it yet?"
"No," I said. "Haven't been near a computer for a few days."
"Give me a second," Dane said. I heard him typing on a keyboard. "Here we go. Thule, or Thyïlea. It's referred to in medieval maps as a 'region to the far north.'"
"So, the North Pole? Like, Santa and shit?"
"Well, in a more modern sense, could refer to Thule in Greenland. A US Air Force Base. About 700 miles North of the Arctic Circle. Not the friendliest place in the world."
Something clicked in my head, and I knew that was it.
"That's the place," I said. "I need to get up there. Could be my last chance to stop this."
"Vincent had a guy. This is the guy who got him weapons, choppers. That kind of stuff. I've never met him, but Vincent left me a way to contact him in case something ever happened to him. I'll call."
"Do you even know who this guy is?"
"Nope. Not by name. Vince said he worked out of Area 51, but that's all I know."
"You think he'll help us?"
"He's Vince's boss. I'm sure he will. Get back to Vegas -- I'll have it sorted by the time you land."
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Day One Hundred and Eleven
Day 111: 20 Nov 2010
We ride on his back, all 25 of us. He could carry legions more. And soon, he will.
The crossing is quick. It is only the first of three -- the land is what slows us down. We must walk across it, stomp through the snow and ice on foot. There are no roads this far north, and the terrain is rough. We move faster than humans could, but walking over 100 miles takes time. Add the mountains and large glaciers, and it can take days.
Normal humans would complain, but my soldiers do not. No one speaks. We are silent as we move, quickly and carefully, every step planned by us, Jared. The steps transmit to the minds of our soldiers. They are a different kind of slug -- workers, not thinkers. They do as we say, no more, no less. Theoretically, they can speak. None of them has, though, not in the entire history of our kind.
They have no need of speech -- our communications are mental. Even now, as we walk, I know the status of each of them, know that they are all performing as expected despite the cold, the terrain. I communicate back to them, let them know the answer to the question on all of their minds.
We reach Thule in two days.
We ride on his back, all 25 of us. He could carry legions more. And soon, he will.
The crossing is quick. It is only the first of three -- the land is what slows us down. We must walk across it, stomp through the snow and ice on foot. There are no roads this far north, and the terrain is rough. We move faster than humans could, but walking over 100 miles takes time. Add the mountains and large glaciers, and it can take days.
Normal humans would complain, but my soldiers do not. No one speaks. We are silent as we move, quickly and carefully, every step planned by us, Jared. The steps transmit to the minds of our soldiers. They are a different kind of slug -- workers, not thinkers. They do as we say, no more, no less. Theoretically, they can speak. None of them has, though, not in the entire history of our kind.
They have no need of speech -- our communications are mental. Even now, as we walk, I know the status of each of them, know that they are all performing as expected despite the cold, the terrain. I communicate back to them, let them know the answer to the question on all of their minds.
We reach Thule in two days.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Day One Hundred and Ten
Day 110: 19 Nov 2010
Not knowing what else to do, I hitched a ride from Marfa to Houston. From there. . . what? Back to Vegas? New Orleans? Try to find Ronan and his people?
I was sitting in a truck stop when it happened. My coffee had just arrived. Before I could take a sip, a voice boomed in my head -- so loud my nose started gushing blood instantly and I went temporarily blind. It said one word.
Thule.
Not knowing what else to do, I hitched a ride from Marfa to Houston. From there. . . what? Back to Vegas? New Orleans? Try to find Ronan and his people?
I was sitting in a truck stop when it happened. My coffee had just arrived. Before I could take a sip, a voice boomed in my head -- so loud my nose started gushing blood instantly and I went temporarily blind. It said one word.
Thule.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day One Hundred and Nine
Day 109: 18 Nov 2010
Still traveling, though now more east than north. It's been dark for hours now, but it's rarely light here. We're approaching our first water crossing, but we won't need to swim. We could, but we'll have a faster ride. Much faster.
Around midnight, our father will meet us there.
Still traveling, though now more east than north. It's been dark for hours now, but it's rarely light here. We're approaching our first water crossing, but we won't need to swim. We could, but we'll have a faster ride. Much faster.
Around midnight, our father will meet us there.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Day One Hundred and Eight
Day 108: 17 Nov 2010
We travel North. When the vehicles froze up in the Northwest Territories, we had to continue on foot.
The cold does not bother us. In fact, we find it rather comfortable. Our soldiers, 24 of them, seem to agree with our sentiments. They, as we, plow through the ice with speed and persistence, not stopping to eat or sleep.
We face a water crossing in days. Water that was not there when the God of the Land was killed. Then, after two more such crossings, we reach his resting place. It did not have a name back then, but now. . . the human part of Jared knows the name somewhere in his mind.
Thule Air Base. Just to the east of that place is where the God of the Land rests. And that is where we shall awaken him.
We travel North. When the vehicles froze up in the Northwest Territories, we had to continue on foot.
The cold does not bother us. In fact, we find it rather comfortable. Our soldiers, 24 of them, seem to agree with our sentiments. They, as we, plow through the ice with speed and persistence, not stopping to eat or sleep.
We face a water crossing in days. Water that was not there when the God of the Land was killed. Then, after two more such crossings, we reach his resting place. It did not have a name back then, but now. . . the human part of Jared knows the name somewhere in his mind.
Thule Air Base. Just to the east of that place is where the God of the Land rests. And that is where we shall awaken him.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Day One Hundred and Seven
Day 107: 16 Nov 2010
I woke up this morning surrounded by dried blood and spent ammunition. It felt like the worst hangover ever. My head was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew I was alive and uninjured. It took a few minutes to get to my feet.
When I did, I found that Travis and his people were all gone. The spot around which they'd been chanting was now a huge crater.
"Well. . . fuck," was all I could think to say as I walked past the downed Pave Hawk towards the road.
I woke up this morning surrounded by dried blood and spent ammunition. It felt like the worst hangover ever. My head was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew I was alive and uninjured. It took a few minutes to get to my feet.
When I did, I found that Travis and his people were all gone. The spot around which they'd been chanting was now a huge crater.
"Well. . . fuck," was all I could think to say as I walked past the downed Pave Hawk towards the road.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Day One Hundred and Six
Day 106: 15 Nov 2010
I woke up under a whole bunch of what used to be a Winnebago. I was injured at some point, but I'm not now. The insect in my system makes me tougher -- not as tough as Travis and Jared -- but it also heals whatever damage I take over time. I get the feeling I might have died, but the insect kept me alive.
Vince and his crew don't have insects in them. They're dead. Almost the first thing I saw when I woke was their bodies, and they didn't move for several minutes. No breath, no movement. Dead.
I heard a low humming outside the wreckage of the trailer. It was the screaming, shrieking voice of the slugs, almost whispering. A low, raspy, droning chant. Some part of me -- the insect, probably -- knew they had begun the ritual to raise the God of the Skies. I could still try to stop them.
As I pulled myself out of the ex-trailer, I saw one of Travis' . . . I don't know, soldiers? Pals? Whatever he was, he had one of the M249 SAWs from our cache. As soon as he saw me, he opened fire. He'd been guarding the wreck. About fifty bullets slammed into me before I blacked out -- again. I knew I was still alive, but I also knew I wasn't going anywhere.
Not anytime soon, anyway.
I woke up under a whole bunch of what used to be a Winnebago. I was injured at some point, but I'm not now. The insect in my system makes me tougher -- not as tough as Travis and Jared -- but it also heals whatever damage I take over time. I get the feeling I might have died, but the insect kept me alive.
Vince and his crew don't have insects in them. They're dead. Almost the first thing I saw when I woke was their bodies, and they didn't move for several minutes. No breath, no movement. Dead.
I heard a low humming outside the wreckage of the trailer. It was the screaming, shrieking voice of the slugs, almost whispering. A low, raspy, droning chant. Some part of me -- the insect, probably -- knew they had begun the ritual to raise the God of the Skies. I could still try to stop them.
As I pulled myself out of the ex-trailer, I saw one of Travis' . . . I don't know, soldiers? Pals? Whatever he was, he had one of the M249 SAWs from our cache. As soon as he saw me, he opened fire. He'd been guarding the wreck. About fifty bullets slammed into me before I blacked out -- again. I knew I was still alive, but I also knew I wasn't going anywhere.
Not anytime soon, anyway.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Day One Hundred and Five
Day 105: 14 Nov 2010
It was dark when Vince woke me.
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Five hours. We've got incoming. Five vehicles moving in a line."
"So it's not our guy?"
"Or it is, and he's already turned his slugs into soldiers."
"I hadn't even thought of that. That's not good," I said, standing and stretching.
"No. No, it isn't. I'm waiting on confirmation. If it is them, we'll throw everything we have at 'em, but I don't know how effective it'll be."
Vince quickly put his hand to his ear. He listened for a second, then nodded.
"Copy. It's them. Travis is driving the lead vehicle," he told me, handing me an M249 SAW. "We'd better get ready. The trucks won't make it , but they'll probably continue on foot."
"How do you plan to stop the trucks?"
Vince toggled his radio.
"Vampire 1-1, go ahead and start your run."
Off in the distance, I heard gunfire. Lots of it. Then, soon after, explosions.
"The helicopter," I said.
Vince nodded. "Better get in position. Won't take them long now."
Vince, his three guys, and I aimed our weapons out the windows of the trailer, towards the road. We saw the chopper in the distance. It was coming towards us, floodlights switched on and bathing the road ahead of it in light. In its beam, we saw men running at us. They moved impossibly fast -- Travis and his guys. I didn't count, but I knew there were 25 of them.
"Wait for 'em," Vince whispered. "Wait. . . now! Light 'em up!"
I almost went deaf from the noise as all five of fired. We saw bullets arc through the night. They hit the men advancing, but didn't even slow them down. They kept coming at that impossible speed, heading right for us.
"Reload! Reload!" Vince yelled.
I reached for another belt, but the trailer suddenly bucked hard and pitched on its wheels. I felt the old Winnebago slam over on its side, and as I fell backwards, I must have hit my head -- everything suddenly went dark.
It was dark when Vince woke me.
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Five hours. We've got incoming. Five vehicles moving in a line."
"So it's not our guy?"
"Or it is, and he's already turned his slugs into soldiers."
"I hadn't even thought of that. That's not good," I said, standing and stretching.
"No. No, it isn't. I'm waiting on confirmation. If it is them, we'll throw everything we have at 'em, but I don't know how effective it'll be."
Vince quickly put his hand to his ear. He listened for a second, then nodded.
"Copy. It's them. Travis is driving the lead vehicle," he told me, handing me an M249 SAW. "We'd better get ready. The trucks won't make it , but they'll probably continue on foot."
"How do you plan to stop the trucks?"
Vince toggled his radio.
"Vampire 1-1, go ahead and start your run."
Off in the distance, I heard gunfire. Lots of it. Then, soon after, explosions.
"The helicopter," I said.
Vince nodded. "Better get in position. Won't take them long now."
Vince, his three guys, and I aimed our weapons out the windows of the trailer, towards the road. We saw the chopper in the distance. It was coming towards us, floodlights switched on and bathing the road ahead of it in light. In its beam, we saw men running at us. They moved impossibly fast -- Travis and his guys. I didn't count, but I knew there were 25 of them.
"Wait for 'em," Vince whispered. "Wait. . . now! Light 'em up!"
I almost went deaf from the noise as all five of fired. We saw bullets arc through the night. They hit the men advancing, but didn't even slow them down. They kept coming at that impossible speed, heading right for us.
"Reload! Reload!" Vince yelled.
I reached for another belt, but the trailer suddenly bucked hard and pitched on its wheels. I felt the old Winnebago slam over on its side, and as I fell backwards, I must have hit my head -- everything suddenly went dark.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Day One Hundred and Four
Day 104: 13 Nov 2010
The drive from Houston to just outside of Marfa would have been murder -- more than ten hours in the car. Thankfully, we didn't have to make the drive -- Vince's old military and black ops connections must have still been worth something. He had a helicopter meet us early in the morning at a small private airfield just outside Houston. It was a Pave Hawk, a monster.
"You're sure he said Marfa?" Vince shouted over the noise of the rotors as we flew.
"Yeah. That's where the Sky God is buried."
"Should be there in a couple of hours. We'll scout somewhere to set up near the burial site. Your guy shouldn't be along real soon. Not for at least a day if he's driving by car," Vince said.
And he was right. We found an abandoned trailer near the site. I knew we were near the burial site -- I could feel it. The God of the Skies,dead, but still radiating power. He was definitely here.
"Trailer's more exposed than I'd like, but it'll have to do," Vince said. "Get some sleep. You look like you've been up a week."
I had been. So I balled up my coat under my head and sacked out in a corner of the trailer. I was asleep in seconds.
The drive from Houston to just outside of Marfa would have been murder -- more than ten hours in the car. Thankfully, we didn't have to make the drive -- Vince's old military and black ops connections must have still been worth something. He had a helicopter meet us early in the morning at a small private airfield just outside Houston. It was a Pave Hawk, a monster.
"You're sure he said Marfa?" Vince shouted over the noise of the rotors as we flew.
"Yeah. That's where the Sky God is buried."
"Should be there in a couple of hours. We'll scout somewhere to set up near the burial site. Your guy shouldn't be along real soon. Not for at least a day if he's driving by car," Vince said.
And he was right. We found an abandoned trailer near the site. I knew we were near the burial site -- I could feel it. The God of the Skies,dead, but still radiating power. He was definitely here.
"Trailer's more exposed than I'd like, but it'll have to do," Vince said. "Get some sleep. You look like you've been up a week."
I had been. So I balled up my coat under my head and sacked out in a corner of the trailer. I was asleep in seconds.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Day One Hundred and Three
Day 103: 12 Nov 2010
Ronan seemed to know everything -- the slugs, the insect, and the worms (the children of the God of Land). He also knew what the notebook in Travis' car meant -- that he and Jared meant to revive the other two gods and wage war on humans. He knew a lot, but when I asked how, he didn't answer.
"You need to get some people and some hardware together," he told me. "Guns. Lots of bullets. Won't kill the two guys with slugs in 'em, but it'll tear the unprotected slugs right up."
I knew who to call. Vince was still healing up, but he had people. And definitely guns.
"I'll take my own team and head North," he said. "You're West. Small town in West Texas -- believe you've been there before."
"And what then?" I asked.
"Take out as many of 'em as you can. They'll incubate in a day, this new batch. Travis and Jared are moving by car, so if we get planes, we can stop them."
So I did. I caught a plane to Houston, where Vince and three other guys were waiting. My flight got in just before midnight.
"Vince. You didn't have to come yourself," I said.
Vince just smiled as he and his men led me out of the airport.
"Come on, kiddo. We finally get to kill something. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Ronan seemed to know everything -- the slugs, the insect, and the worms (the children of the God of Land). He also knew what the notebook in Travis' car meant -- that he and Jared meant to revive the other two gods and wage war on humans. He knew a lot, but when I asked how, he didn't answer.
"You need to get some people and some hardware together," he told me. "Guns. Lots of bullets. Won't kill the two guys with slugs in 'em, but it'll tear the unprotected slugs right up."
I knew who to call. Vince was still healing up, but he had people. And definitely guns.
"I'll take my own team and head North," he said. "You're West. Small town in West Texas -- believe you've been there before."
"And what then?" I asked.
"Take out as many of 'em as you can. They'll incubate in a day, this new batch. Travis and Jared are moving by car, so if we get planes, we can stop them."
So I did. I caught a plane to Houston, where Vince and three other guys were waiting. My flight got in just before midnight.
"Vince. You didn't have to come yourself," I said.
Vince just smiled as he and his men led me out of the airport.
"Come on, kiddo. We finally get to kill something. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Day One Hundred and Two
Day 102: 11 Nov 2010
Today we returned to the land, walking unmet and unmolested onto the sand at Appalachicola. It was dark outside. We do not know if it was day or night, nor do we care.
We did not arrive alone, Jared and I. We carried 24 of our brethren each. These, unlike the slugs Jared and I received, are mature. Ready for bonding. No two-week adjustment period -- these bond in one day. They won't last as long as we will -- not even in suitable hosts -- but they don't need to. One year will be more than enough.
No one challenged us as Jared headed North and I headed West. We had a strike force to assemble.
Then, gods to raise.
Today we returned to the land, walking unmet and unmolested onto the sand at Appalachicola. It was dark outside. We do not know if it was day or night, nor do we care.
We did not arrive alone, Jared and I. We carried 24 of our brethren each. These, unlike the slugs Jared and I received, are mature. Ready for bonding. No two-week adjustment period -- these bond in one day. They won't last as long as we will -- not even in suitable hosts -- but they don't need to. One year will be more than enough.
No one challenged us as Jared headed North and I headed West. We had a strike force to assemble.
Then, gods to raise.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Day One Hundred and One
Day 101: 10 Nov 2010
I waited for hours, and Ronan finally showed up about half past midnight. I was expecting a white guy. You know, an Irishman. The name Ronan, and all.
"You're Cassie?" the tall black guy said as he walked up.
"Uh, yeah. How --"
"How did I know your name? My grandma told me. She picks up on things. Without having to be told. Like the fact you're not human. Not entirely, anyway."
"You know?"
"A child of the god of the skies. Yeah, I know all about it. And I know about the slugs."
"Both of them?" I asked.
Ronan shook his head.
"Not both. All fifty. And they're coming to shore in about 36 hours. Come on. We've got a lot of work to do before then."
I waited for hours, and Ronan finally showed up about half past midnight. I was expecting a white guy. You know, an Irishman. The name Ronan, and all.
"You're Cassie?" the tall black guy said as he walked up.
"Uh, yeah. How --"
"How did I know your name? My grandma told me. She picks up on things. Without having to be told. Like the fact you're not human. Not entirely, anyway."
"You know?"
"A child of the god of the skies. Yeah, I know all about it. And I know about the slugs."
"Both of them?" I asked.
Ronan shook his head.
"Not both. All fifty. And they're coming to shore in about 36 hours. Come on. We've got a lot of work to do before then."
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Day One Hundred
Day 100: 09 Nov 2010
Was walking in Jackson Square this afternoon, past all of the street performers and random tourists. Oh, and the homeless people the tourists thought were street performers.
As I walked, I felt someone grab my left wrist. I turned, and saw it was a tiny old black lady at a folding table. She had Tarot cards set up in front of her.
"You. Sit down."
It wasn't a request.
"I started picking up something from you the moment you walked into the square," she told me, shuffling cards. "Don't even need the cards to see it."
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, shifting in my seat.
"Yeah. You're bringing something bad, girl. Something evil. You're bringing it to this city."
"What?" I coughed.
"What'd we ever do to you, anyway?" she growled.
"I'm sorry, I don't --"
"You need to meet with Ronan. Today. St. Louis Cemetary. Go now," she said, rising from the table slowly.
"I --"
"Go!" she screamed.
So I went. Don't know who Ronan is, or why I have to meet him, but that woman scared me. A lot. She looked like she wanted to beat the crap out of me, but she didn't intimidate me physically. Something else about her. . .
I don't know. But here I am, waiting.
Was walking in Jackson Square this afternoon, past all of the street performers and random tourists. Oh, and the homeless people the tourists thought were street performers.
As I walked, I felt someone grab my left wrist. I turned, and saw it was a tiny old black lady at a folding table. She had Tarot cards set up in front of her.
"You. Sit down."
It wasn't a request.
"I started picking up something from you the moment you walked into the square," she told me, shuffling cards. "Don't even need the cards to see it."
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, shifting in my seat.
"Yeah. You're bringing something bad, girl. Something evil. You're bringing it to this city."
"What?" I coughed.
"What'd we ever do to you, anyway?" she growled.
"I'm sorry, I don't --"
"You need to meet with Ronan. Today. St. Louis Cemetary. Go now," she said, rising from the table slowly.
"I --"
"Go!" she screamed.
So I went. Don't know who Ronan is, or why I have to meet him, but that woman scared me. A lot. She looked like she wanted to beat the crap out of me, but she didn't intimidate me physically. Something else about her. . .
I don't know. But here I am, waiting.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Day Ninety-Nine
Day 99: 08 Nov 2010
Still nothing from the brothers Sykes. Truth be told, though, I'm too hammered to give a shit right now. Whoever came up with the idea of a 25-ounce daiquiri is an evil damned genius.
You know what? I didn't want to get involved. Not in any of this bullshit. I was happy last year, working in the shop and gambling a bit on the weekends. It was effing awesome. Then my dad's old Army buddy Vince shows up and lays out the whole scheme -- the slugs, the ancient gods, the West Coast Syndicate. Suddenly, I'm part of this little group that's trying to stop them from spreading.
And what has it brought me? Some nifty abilities. I can't bitch about those -- the ability to fly for short distances, increased strength, speed, and hearing. Those are pretty badass. And there's the money, too, which I'm keeping if Jared doesn't show up.
But then there's the bad side, outweighing the good. Sleepless nights. Voices in my head, not like Jared or Travis, not as controlling, but still creepy as fuck. Temperature sensitivity. This Louisiana humidity is killing me. And the heat isn't great, either.
Fuck it. Alcohol will make everything better, right?
Still nothing from the brothers Sykes. Truth be told, though, I'm too hammered to give a shit right now. Whoever came up with the idea of a 25-ounce daiquiri is an evil damned genius.
You know what? I didn't want to get involved. Not in any of this bullshit. I was happy last year, working in the shop and gambling a bit on the weekends. It was effing awesome. Then my dad's old Army buddy Vince shows up and lays out the whole scheme -- the slugs, the ancient gods, the West Coast Syndicate. Suddenly, I'm part of this little group that's trying to stop them from spreading.
And what has it brought me? Some nifty abilities. I can't bitch about those -- the ability to fly for short distances, increased strength, speed, and hearing. Those are pretty badass. And there's the money, too, which I'm keeping if Jared doesn't show up.
But then there's the bad side, outweighing the good. Sleepless nights. Voices in my head, not like Jared or Travis, not as controlling, but still creepy as fuck. Temperature sensitivity. This Louisiana humidity is killing me. And the heat isn't great, either.
Fuck it. Alcohol will make everything better, right?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Day Ninety-Eight
Day 98: 07 Nov 2010
Fucking Jared. Dives into the water and vanishes without even a "see ya," leaving me standing on the dock. Just a little Chinese girl, stupidly hanging out between two abandoned cars in one of the most dangerous cities in America. Great.
I stuck around for an hour or two on that first night, but when it became painfully fucking obvious he wasn't coming back, I left. Took the Buick (it had the money in the trunk) and went and got myself a hotel on Bourbon Street. And waited. And waited.
Nothing. Neither Sykes brother has showed up, called, anything. I can't bring myself to leave, though, so. . .
Fuck it, I finally decided. Never been to New Orleans before, and my changes don't alter my appearance near as much as Travis or Jared's. So I'm playing tourist. They decide they want to show back up, fine. It'll take a bit of grovelling, but I'm with 'em.
Until then, I'm just gonna have fun. From what Jared says, world's probably gonna end soon anyway, so why not?
And no, you can't see any of my vacation photos. Oh, OK. Just one.
Fucking Jared. Dives into the water and vanishes without even a "see ya," leaving me standing on the dock. Just a little Chinese girl, stupidly hanging out between two abandoned cars in one of the most dangerous cities in America. Great.
I stuck around for an hour or two on that first night, but when it became painfully fucking obvious he wasn't coming back, I left. Took the Buick (it had the money in the trunk) and went and got myself a hotel on Bourbon Street. And waited. And waited.
Nothing. Neither Sykes brother has showed up, called, anything. I can't bring myself to leave, though, so. . .
Fuck it, I finally decided. Never been to New Orleans before, and my changes don't alter my appearance near as much as Travis or Jared's. So I'm playing tourist. They decide they want to show back up, fine. It'll take a bit of grovelling, but I'm with 'em.
Until then, I'm just gonna have fun. From what Jared says, world's probably gonna end soon anyway, so why not?
And no, you can't see any of my vacation photos. Oh, OK. Just one.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day Ninety-Five
Day 95: 04 Nov 2010
Scratching away. Clawing at the inside, trying to stop what's happening. To throw a big fucking wrench in it. So far, not much luck.
I thought that when Jared found us, he'd try to stop us. Not so. He just sat down and amplified the call. That must be what my slug and his talked about in Los Angeles. I assume, anyway. I have no real idea what that was all about.
My slug hasn't been knocking me out. Doubt he has the time or the focus for it -- he needs to concentrate on the task at hand. Besides, not much I can do -- I'm not in control of the body. All I can do is watch, try and take back some control of the mind. He's got that locked down, but he hasn't slept in days -- not even his micro-naps. I'm hoping that the slug is like people in that.
My only chance is that the lack of sleep will make him sloppy. I can hope he makes a mistake, and that I can gain some control. It doesn't have to be a lot -- just enough to break the call for a minute. I get the impression that the effort is cumulative. If I can interrupt them, they'll at least have to start over again.
So, the most I can hope to do is buy time, and keep buying it. Until. . . well, to tell you the truth, I don't know.
Scratching away. Clawing at the inside, trying to stop what's happening. To throw a big fucking wrench in it. So far, not much luck.
I thought that when Jared found us, he'd try to stop us. Not so. He just sat down and amplified the call. That must be what my slug and his talked about in Los Angeles. I assume, anyway. I have no real idea what that was all about.
My slug hasn't been knocking me out. Doubt he has the time or the focus for it -- he needs to concentrate on the task at hand. Besides, not much I can do -- I'm not in control of the body. All I can do is watch, try and take back some control of the mind. He's got that locked down, but he hasn't slept in days -- not even his micro-naps. I'm hoping that the slug is like people in that.
My only chance is that the lack of sleep will make him sloppy. I can hope he makes a mistake, and that I can gain some control. It doesn't have to be a lot -- just enough to break the call for a minute. I get the impression that the effort is cumulative. If I can interrupt them, they'll at least have to start over again.
So, the most I can hope to do is buy time, and keep buying it. Until. . . well, to tell you the truth, I don't know.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day Ninety-Four
Day 94: 03 Nov 2010
Searching. Calling.
We're stronger together. That's why Travis let us find them. Why they didn't hide. Together, we might have the power to wake our father from his death-sleep.
That's why he's laid sleeping for so terribly long. There's never been more than one slug-host pair walking the earth since our father drifted into his slumber so many millenia ago. No host could hold a slug long enough for another to be joined.
But with two pairs -- Travis and Jared -- it might be possible. And if we can raise him, he can raise the others.
And then. . . then it will be slaughter.
Searching. Calling.
We're stronger together. That's why Travis let us find them. Why they didn't hide. Together, we might have the power to wake our father from his death-sleep.
That's why he's laid sleeping for so terribly long. There's never been more than one slug-host pair walking the earth since our father drifted into his slumber so many millenia ago. No host could hold a slug long enough for another to be joined.
But with two pairs -- Travis and Jared -- it might be possible. And if we can raise him, he can raise the others.
And then. . . then it will be slaughter.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Day Ninety-Three
Day 93: 02 Nov 2010
Tracking someone underwater is easier than tracking on land. It's much quieter down here, for one thing. No noise to confuse my mind. It's simple for the slug to communicate with Travis down here -- even when Travis doesn't talk back.
He had almost two days head start on me, and that's about how long it took to find him. I covered a lot of distance in that time. The slug's modifications to my physiology meant I didn't need to surface for air, and the cold and pressure had no effect on me.
When I finally caught up with him, he was sitting in an open area on the ocean floor, legs crossed, eyes closed. He looked asleep. I knew he wasn't, though -- I could sense his slug working, reaching out with all of its mental powers. Searching, but not for me.
I sat down and joined him. I'm not sure if I made the decision or my slug did, but it hardly mattered. We sat there together. Time stopped passing -- the two of us, motionless, somewhere out past Florida. . . searching. Calling.
Waiting.
Tracking someone underwater is easier than tracking on land. It's much quieter down here, for one thing. No noise to confuse my mind. It's simple for the slug to communicate with Travis down here -- even when Travis doesn't talk back.
He had almost two days head start on me, and that's about how long it took to find him. I covered a lot of distance in that time. The slug's modifications to my physiology meant I didn't need to surface for air, and the cold and pressure had no effect on me.
When I finally caught up with him, he was sitting in an open area on the ocean floor, legs crossed, eyes closed. He looked asleep. I knew he wasn't, though -- I could sense his slug working, reaching out with all of its mental powers. Searching, but not for me.
I sat down and joined him. I'm not sure if I made the decision or my slug did, but it hardly mattered. We sat there together. Time stopped passing -- the two of us, motionless, somewhere out past Florida. . . searching. Calling.
Waiting.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Day Ninety-Two
Day 92: 01 Nov 2010
Underwater. It's cold, or you would find it cold. We are perfectly comfortable. The water fills our lungs. It's comforting, like a cool, tall drink after a long day out in the sun.
Much as we'd like to sink here and not move, we can't. We have a mission. Find Travis. But that's where it gets tricky.
When we went into the water, I knew why I had to find them. To stop them. Now that we're here, I'm not sure. We might want to stop them, or we might be here to help them succeed in their plans. I guess we won't know until we find them.
Incidentally, better get on that. Time's a wastin'.
Underwater. It's cold, or you would find it cold. We are perfectly comfortable. The water fills our lungs. It's comforting, like a cool, tall drink after a long day out in the sun.
Much as we'd like to sink here and not move, we can't. We have a mission. Find Travis. But that's where it gets tricky.
When we went into the water, I knew why I had to find them. To stop them. Now that we're here, I'm not sure. We might want to stop them, or we might be here to help them succeed in their plans. I guess we won't know until we find them.
Incidentally, better get on that. Time's a wastin'.
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