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(Author's note: Sorry there's such a gap btwn these installments. The story so far to help out Shannon and others. Fort officer Jenny Wilson (terror in knickers) has lost her partner Dave Morris and is hell bent on revenge. She's also discovered a breeding chamber for 2nd generation Fear creatures that use human bodies for sustenance and growth. She's wrecked a generator that works pumps supplying the chamber with grey gunk (this gunk is pumped into the bodies and reforms them). Pinned down by Revelation Readers, Jenny destroys the entrance and settles down for a brief kip. Now read on (as they say)-
Let me tell you, being woken by a cold, slimy thing being dragged up your face is not to be recommended. However it does inspire rapid movement away from it and into the land of the living. Boris finished licking me when I snarled at him. He nudged me, pointed with his nose to the recently sealed entrance and I poked my head over the control panel. A stone fell, followed by another, then a small hole appeared. Whoops, time to be elsewhere - but where?
There seemed to be no option but to make my way along the narrow passageway leading away from the main control area. Quickly I holstered the Beretta, slung the Uzi across my back and carried the Browning pistol recently ‘borrowed’ from one of the dead brothers. Well, he wouldn’t be needing it. My leg was aching slightly but nothing major. I also grabbed a torch from the wall, might come in useful. I jogged rather than ran because the corridor was in semi-darkness and I needed to watch for hazards.
It wasn’t long before a hazard found me in the shape of a bloody great hole in the ground. Subsidence had taken place and part of the floor had collapsed. It was impossible to cross, I’m not Indiana Jones, mind you I thought the whip was kind of sexy. My only option was to climb into the hole and hope its bottom wasn’t too far. It seemed, just lately, that I spent most of my time falling down or climbing up holes in the ground. It can get a bit monotonous after a while. An uneventful climb later I found myself in what appeared to be a crypt. That made sense, since this had been a residential area a long time ago, so a church would have been built close by.
I tripped over the first skeleton before I taken two steps. I decided to risk using the torch for a second and sucked in my breath. There were at least thirty dead bodies in here, I reckoned most of them were children. The adults wore robes reminiscent of the Revelation Readers but were grey in colour. I decided to make my way out of this place as quickly as possible but first I needed to rest my leg for a moment. I limped over to the far side of the crypt and sat down. I decided to keep the torch switched on and did my best to shield it with one hand. I wasn’t overly superstitious but the sight of the grinning skeletons was beginning to freak me out. Being able to see them, however, meant that if anything moved I could get my ass out of there.
To one side of me was a stone staircase and I noticed a lot of spent shell casings scattered around me. Idly I picked one up and examined it, a MC18 semi-automatic rifle had fired this. The MC18 was standard army issue until about ten years ago and was definitely being used in the Fear Wars. A thought kicked in, were these bodies the so-called ‘Innocents?’
‘The Slaughter of The Innocents’ was part urban legend mingled with gossip and half-truths. According to anti-government groups (Revelation Readers among them), a patrol of soldiers had gone rogue during the Fear Wars, broke into a church where children were being sheltered and killed them and the monks who were protecting them. I only asked Morris once about this incident and he simply shrugged and told me he knew nothing about it. However this was in Bilford Hill and Morris had been at that battle but I suppose the military had kept the incident quiet, nothing unusual there.
As I stood again, I noticed a small, flat piece of metal, I picked it up. It was a dog-tag, presumably from one of the children’s killers. I turned it over, read with difficulty the soldier’s serial number, rank and name. Then stuffed it into a pocket. The tag belonged to Morris, he was one of the children’s murderers.
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In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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Fear book two part 9
