Isolation & Fear (Damned of the 2/19th Book Seven)

The Death and Birth of Belinda

202nd Military Intelligence BN
Front Lawn, Barracks Area
Alfenwehr Secure Army Post
West Germany
12 January, 1988
0500

"Johnny, Johnny!" Groom screamed, dropping off the side of the truck. I climbed onto the roof of my destroyed CUC-V, almost slipping on the ice. People were shouting inside the barracks, and a woman poked her head out of the broken window next to me.

"What the fuck, man?" She screamed. She had glass in her hair and was naked.

"GET THE MEDICS AND THE MP'S!" I shouted back at her. My hearing was shot, everything muffled. She jerked at my tone, and went stiff. "I'VE GOT DEAD AND WOUNDED!" I realized I still had my .45 in one hand.

"Roger, Sergeant," She yelled, military discipline slotting between fear and action. She vanished out of the window as I holstered my pistol.

I jumped down off the top of the destroyed CUC-V just in time for Groom to hurdle herself into my arms.

"Oh, God, Johnny, I lost Cromwell, I'm sorry, I lost Cromwell," She sobbed, hugging me. "They were everywhere, and I lost Cromwell," Her voice was rising, getting tighter, edging into hysteria.

I pushed her back. "Get it together, soldier," I snapped. "Report, damn you."

"I lost Cromwell, Johnny, they were everywhere!" She wailed. "They were eating us..."

Bunching my fist in the front of her parka to hold her in place, I slapped her with my other hand. Hard. The motion made the ribs on my left side twinge. Her eyes opened wide, a snarl appeared on her face and vanished just as quickly. "Report, God damn you, soldier!"

"I've got ten female soldiers, six infants, two premie, and I found Little Bit jogging down the road," She said. She shuddered. "We stopped to pick her up, and we got attacked by those, those things."

"Stillwater? Any sign of him?" I asked. My throat tickled and I coughed.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"How many of those things?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know." I realized she had my pump action 12 gauge in her hands, I could smell that she had been firing it in close quarters. I recognized it as the one Ant and I had hidden behind the back of the wall lockers in our room.

People were streaming out of the barracks. Most were in PT's, a few in nightgowns, pajamas, or longjohns, but five were in BDU's. They were yelling, most asking what the hell had just happened, others exclaiming in shock at the condition of the two vehicles.

The babies were wailing. High, frightened calls for their mothers.

"Get them into the barracks, Specialist," I snapped, letting her go. I jogged toward the ones in BDU's, waving my arms. "We need medics!" I shouted. Each step made my ribs flare with pain, but I pushed it down.

The lead one was a Staff Sergeant, the nametag reading Johnson. He turned as I approached, saying something to a Specialist, who whirled and ran toward the building.

"Good God, is everyone all right?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I know we've got one dead. Ejected from my vehicle," I waved at the dark lawn. Christ, Custer had gone under my vehicle and the big 5-ton truck. He'd be chunky salsa spread across the lawn.

And this was his wife's unit.

Jesus.

"You're bleeding, Sergeant," The E-6 said. Another guy, an E-5, was waving people forward, yelling for some to grab blankets.