Monday, January 20, 2014

Sergeant Anathema

First Sergeant Anathema Macomber could not believe how quickly a day could go to hell.  This morning she had awakened in Jack’s (Yes, she knew his name was Jacques but she liked Jack better.) arms for the third day in a row and thinking she could make a habit of this.  Instead he had followed the habit of every man she had ever needed…

..and left.

The fact that he had taken her last remaining tank and driver just before the camp was attacked did not make it the worst case of abandonment she ever experienced.  Only the most recent.

“Pretty poor timing, Emmet being gone when they attacked,” Cpl Basset said, “It’s almost like they timed it.”

“The hell they did!” Anathema growled, “I timed it.  We had to draw these bastards out or they would have slunk in the shadows and picked us off one by one so I gave them a plump opportunity they couldn’t pass up.  Now as soon as we’re moving Emmet can pick them off one at a time as they chase us.  So let’s get the ****ing lead out or it’ll be like Patomic Drift all over again!”  Cpl Basset ran off.  That should hold them for a while.  Her lie might even impress them to break camp faster, who knows?  Never appear surprised, that’s what she knew.  Ain’t nothing scares a trooper more than a commander who doesn’t know what’s happening.  With that, Sgt. Nathy thought she better get to the command trailer and see what’s happening.

By the parts trailer she caught two separate movements almost simultaneously.  The one she pounced on, pinning Frances the grease gecko’s oily body under hers and shushing him just as a furtive figure moved across their path.  It had bandages. "Bandages, it's a new monotooth, er, young one?  Recent convert?  Whatever, maybe it's not very good at it yet.  Maybe there's a learning curve to being an aborted sump pump.  Maybe it's gonna crawl right past and keep going.  Maybe it won't smell us or see the tracks we left, or heat signature or sense the humidity off the cold sweat in my shorts, whatever it is those creepy walking corpses do. That's it, just keep going...keep crawling away...i've been good all week.  Didn't even steal from those merchants.  God owes me.  Keep crawling you f--"
The Monotooth's head snapped in their direction.
"Aw shit.  God knows about the watch."

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