Traitors (Damned of the 2/19th - Book Five) - Finished

Back to the Bathrooms

2/19th Special Weapons Group Barracks
Restricted Area - Western Germany
Early Winter - 1986
Ground Floor Game Room
Day: Sixteen

It was all a dream. It had to be. I had to be laying there on the cot, unconscious from having my head thunked with an axe handle, dreaming concussion nightmares. There was no way the LT could be there, I'd felt him die under my hands, I'd rammed the knife under his chin and into his brain, twisting it twice before pulling it loose. I'd felt him die!

But it wasn't, even as I stood stock still in disbelief, my brain unwilling to accept what my eyes were seeing, the LT still stubbornly refused to vanish into nightmare.

That axe came around, the cruel edge tearing into Hendricks' chest with an obscene sound. Hendricks had tried to throw himself out of the path, away from the axe, but his reflexes had been slowed by the sudden shock of the LT's appearance, of how he had kicked open the door, and the impossibility of the figure in front of us. He'd thrown his left arm up, but the axe whipped below it, slamming into his ribcage, and the sound was loud in the silence as his ribs snapped and the axe head sunk deep into the meat of his torso. Blood sprayed across my face, flecks of it hitting my glasses.

Nancy screamed, a sound of loss and pain, and I knew what she was reliving in that split second.

Jacobs. Dying on the table in an office, with Nancy powerless to do anything.

The blow spun Hendricks around, the axe tearing loose with another spray of blood.

I still hadn't moved. I was still focused on the LT, my brain trying to deny what was in front of me.

The LT's expression hadn't changed, still that maniacal grin, those glittering eyes set in the middle of circles of blackened flesh, the mud on his pantlegs, frost and ice in his hair and on his pant legs.

The axe continued its arc, and the LT pulled it back around so it crossed his body at port arms, still staring at us with that grin.

Hendricks was falling, a gurgling scream torn from him by the hideous axe wound I could see for a split second before his body spun.

Weaponsfire sounded out next to my ear, and the LT didn't even flinch, blood flying out from his back. The wood of the axe handle splintered as two rounds hit it.

The doors slammed shut, without the LT touching them, and the lights came back on so strongly that my eyes watered. Two rounds punched into the door, right where the LT had been, and I saw that Bomber was the one holding the weapon, his cheek pressed against the stock. The room was awash in white light, every light bulb on, and heat roared through the vent next to me, washing up my legs and almost burning my bare skin. Like usual, I barely felt anything on my back.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" At least five people yelled that in the brightness of the room.

Nancy had lunged forward, yelling Bomber and my names, pulling at Hendricks, getting his arm out of the way with almost brutal urgency, tearing his uniform open with one savage wrench to expose the wound.

"RALEIGH!" She shrieked, "Taggart, get my aid bag!" her voice was still an out of control scream as I ran forward, and grabbed Hendricks' legs. He was bucking, flailing, and my shoulder screamed in raw pain as I looped my arms so I had his ankles under my armpits, locking my hands on my wrist and flexing in order to pin his legs.

"Hold him, goddamn it!" Nancy screamed. "Taggart, hurry your pregnant ass up!" Raleigh had dropped down next to Nancy on her knees, her eyes wide and face pale as she saw the horrific wound on Hendricks' chest. Nancy didn't even look at her. "Raleigh, get in there, hold him down, goddamn it!"