Cold Hatred (Book 2 & 3 of the Damned of the 2/19th) -Updated and Rewritten

Cold Hatred Part: 21

"Were the things that dwelled in the dark and

cold of Alfenwehr a reflection of what was

inside us, or had we become a reflection of them?"

2/19th Special Weapons Group
Restricted Area, Alfenwehr West Germany
Late Winter- January, 1986
Day 12 of Repairs
Day 4 of the Second Incident
Morning

Our feet hammered down the hallway as we headed to the stairwell, Nancy getting there first and kicking the door open. I glanced behind us, but I didn't see anything in the darkness. Behind us the rich laughter kept sounding out, and I could picture him in my head. Over six foot, covered head to toe in extreme cold weather gear, a cold weather mask over his face, one eye bloodshot and swollen, a tooth knocked out.

And that fucking axe in his hands.

We hammered down the stairs, the whole thing shaking, ignoring the scream of agony from above us. Nancy pulled open the door to the short section and from the back I saw her stop dead, stepping backwards. Dobbs swore, Aine stared in shock, and Bomber shoved at Nancy.

"Get in there, goddamn it," he snarled at her.

Once I got the bottom of stairs I could see what they were scooting around. There was a dead man down there, dressed in Russian camo, sprawled out dead. His chest was hacked open, exposing broken ribs and frozen frost rimed organs.

"What happened to him?" Dobbs asked, toeing the body with her boot.

"Last month happened," Nancy snapped as I pulled the door to the stairwell shut. When I turned around Bomber and King had peeled the guy's legs out of the frozen blood and were working on pulling him out of the frozen blood to unblock the QASI office so we could get at the secure data vault.

"I thought you guys killed him," King said.

"Yeah, well, the mountain," Bomber offered. King just nodded, and everyone looked a little nervous as they broke the ice's grip on the dead body and pulled the body down to the door. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Why's this happening?" Stokes asked.

"Because fuck you, that's why," I told her.

We moved into the office and I unzipped my parka.

"Take it off, back to combat boots. Ruck the gear," I ordered. Everyone pulled off their parkas and their Mickey Mouse boots. Rucksacks dropped onto the floor, and were pulled open. I stripped off the parka, tossed it on a desk, then pulled off the heavy boots, dumped out the sweat, and packed the boots and parka into the almost empty ruck. It was missing most of the gear I usually carried: spare uniforms; shelter half with rope and pegs; extra wool blanket; MRE's; chemical gear; climbing gear; toolkit; socks and underwear; wet weather gear; flares; whatever other crap the unit decided I needed to pack according to whatever new CO or Platoon Leader we had. All that was in this one was the cold weather gear. I changed socks, after throwing foot powder on my feet, then put on my combat boots and stood up, stomping twice to set the boots. I grabbed the Kevlar with the LBE and pulled it on over my field jacket, buckling it up, and grabbing the helmet that Nancy had handed me.

When everyone was done changing I waved at the computers. "Throw them against the wall, not the TV part, but the big part beside the desk. King, Bomber, burn the records. I'll handle the vault," I told them, reaching into my thigh pocket and pulling out a thermite grenade. Bomber and King moved to each of the lockers, putting a grenade on top of each of them. I heard the heavy computers shatter as they were thrown hard against the wall, breaking open the cases.