Poison Paradise - Damned of the 2/19th

Don't Look, Marion

NEURAL SPIKE DETECTED!
COMMAND INTERRUPT!
NEURAL DAMAGE AT 42%
PERSONALITY OVERLAY IN TRAUMA MODE
ant.exe is not responding
brun ant.exe
ant.exe is not responding
PRIORITY INTERRUPT>ANT.EXE
program is not responding
poke 1,0
poke 56334,129
poke 1,1
sys 64738
ALT COLD START SUCCESSFUL
load jungle_close_combat.dll
dll failed to load
load close_quarters_combat.dll
dll failed to load
load escape_evade.dll
dll loaded
brun survive.bin
survive
Survive
SURVIVE
SURVIVE!

I was leaning against the wall, tying a new field dressing onto my ruined knee when I heard the rumble of engines heading toward  the old insane asylum I was sitting out front of. The dawn light was harsh in my one good eye as I lifted up my XM16E3/M203 over/under combo, sliding my last HEDP round into place.

The empty 40mm casing rang loudly on the tarmac when it slipped from the shotgun system. I checked my boots, both knives were there. My trusty Gerber Mark II and the heavy crude blade I'd forged deep in the depths of Tir na Nog. Both looked that same after the long night I'd been through.

I'd spent the night moving and fighting, keeping the enemy pinned down in the asylum while Natalie had made a run for it. There had been no way she could have outrun maniacs if they'd had her scent, so there had been no choice.

I'd forced them to come after me instead.

The blood coating my uniform wasn't mine, for the most part. At first the maniacs and those twisted by the dark magic of the bruja had come after me, howling their blood lust and their intent of carving my heart out under the star-filled ceiling of the asylum.

Then it had been me hunting them while they shivered and hid from me.

An hour ago it had come down to the bruja and her two underlings against just me beneath the stars.

Now, it was just me.

The vehicles came around the corner. American. Those new low slung overly wide trucks.

I could see Cromwell and Aine in the ring mounts and sighed, lowering my weapon.

I'd done it.

I'd survived the night.

Because I'm the Atlas Ant and I will not allow myself to die.

MEMORY INTERRUPT
CORE VOLTAGE SPIKE
PERSONALITY OVERLAY IN TRAUMA MODE
CORE MEMORIES 8% LOADED
survive
Survive

SURVIVE

Raincloud watched Lori play with the toddler, playing 'pass the round rock back and forth' while sitting in the shade. He was weaving leaves onto the bamboo stalks while keeping track of the others, silently fuming about the fact that Tommy had taken the stance that since Don had dozed off leaning against a log that he and Bree didn't have to work on the camp.

The steady knocking sound from The Soldier's camp was getting on Raincloud's nerves, if he was going to be honest with himself. It was a constant reminder that while he was lacing together tree fronds to make a shelter wall a guy with a severe head injury had a water powered axe cutting logs for God knew what.

Is this what happened in history? One tribe was just weaving palm fronds and their neighbor build houses, water powered mills, and forged iron until they decided the frond weavers would make good slaves to build more mills? Raincloud wondered, glancing at Tommy.

The acne-ridden teenager was sitting in front of one of the shelters, which now numbered five, with his arms crossed and a stubborn, petulant look on his face.