MHI Fan Fiction

[moose42]

According to this thread Mr. Correia is ok with fan fiction.  So I figured I would flex my creative muscles and give it a try.

Constructive criticism is welcome this is basically a slightly polished rough draft.  If it sucks please say more than "Dude your story sucks." If there are spelling and or grammar errors please ignore them. If I go anywhere with this story my private army of female proofreaders will take care of it.

*** Bonus points to the first person who can tell me what kind of creature Marty encounters.***


Chapter 1
The Crawlspace

I always hated running cables in crawlspaces.  They were all horrible: dark, musty, filled with cobwebs and a hint of mold.  This one was the absolute worst I had ever been in.  My flashlight illuminated clouds of dust with every move I made.  Thankfully I had sprung for a good N95 mask that kept most of that crap out of my lungs; unfortunately it began to fill with sweat.  I moved forward Cat6 cable in one hand, my high output LED flashlight in the other.  This hellish crawlspace was so cramped I could only crawl on my hands and knees, thick powdery dust immediately sought out every bit of exposed skin and stabbed at my eyes.

My two-way radio crackled, startling me.  “Moose, hey what’s taking so stinking long?”  It was Jeff, he had the hard job of grabbing the wire I stuffed up from down below.  Annoyed I set down my flashlight and grabbed the radio that was clipped to my shirt pocket. 

“Dude, if you wanted this job to go faster you should have picked the gopher position!  I have to crawl on my hands and knees because the ceiling is so low!”  Jeff was the bosses’ kid so he usually got the easy jobs and a big Christmas bonus every year.  I could hardly stand the idiot.

 “Fine, but I am gonna’ go have a smoke while I wait for you to get over here.”  I knew he would be setting down his radio and hitting the back patio of this rundown building.  I didn’t even have the desire to fight him over leaving his post.  Company rules stated that the gopher had to be monitored at all times just in case he ran into trouble.  Crawlspaces could be dangerous places.

The building I was under was built in 1919, it started out as a bank, then a public library, when the library moved out two years ago some real-estate genius decided to subdivide it into offices, and major renovations were underway.  Running phone and network cables was how I ended up down in the musty dungeon-like crawlspace. 

Thirteen bucks an hour didn’t seem to be worth this as I brushed aside a massive curtain of cobwebs with a gloved hand.  My flashlight was now lying in the dirt, it pointed off to the left.  It illuminated a mess of pipes and cast strange shadows onto the aging concrete walls.  I thought I saw something move as I reached for my light.  Shadows jumped off the pipes as my flashlight moved.  Bah, it was just my imagination, I told myself as I resumed my journey to the other side of this rundown old building.

I stopped crawling for a bit to adjust my mask when I heard a faint rustling noise behind me.  Jeff was probably trying to scare me by shaking the cable at the crawlspace entry, the bastard.  The cable I was working so hard at dragging underneath this hellish building was suddenly yanked out of my hand.  I was now pissed, I did not want to crawl back to retrieve the cable.  I rolled onto my back and sat up to look and see what was messing with the spool of wire sitting near the entrance.  Golden afternoon light spilled down from the open trapdoor, I yelled for Jeff to stop screwing around, and that’s when I saw it.

About twenty feet behind me I saw a lizard like creature with a long neck and green eyes.  It was backlit from the light of the entrance, I raised my flashlight and illuminated the little beast for a split second before it charged me.  All I saw were rough brown scales a beak and filthy feathers.

I scooped up a handful of gravel from the floor of the crawlspace and hurled it at my attacker.  Rocks pelted it and it hissed louder but it didn’t slow down.  In an instant it was upon me.  I scrambled backward kicking with my legs.  The beast pounced on my leg its beak tore through my blue jeans like paper, I tried to scream as it stabbed my calf but the pain was so great that my voice was stuck in the back of my throat.  In desperation I kicked the beasts’ body with good leg, my heavy work boot connected solidly and it flew off into the darkness.  I started to crawl to the exit as fast as I could; at that moment I realized that my left leg would not move.  The fiendish beast let out a blood curdling scream, like that of a bird of prey.  It was right behind me, my kick must not have hurt it.  I knew it would be on me again in an instant.  I reached for the brown leather scabbard on my belt; pulled out my Schrade lock back folder, and somehow managed to get it open with gloved hands.

With four inches of steel in one hand, and my flashlight in the other I turned to face the crawlspace demon.  It was upon me again in no time its beak seeking my other leg.  It struck, slicing through my right thigh above the knee.  I was prepared this time, I held my knife like an ice pick and stabbed down at the body of the beast.  The blade struck home right in-between a pair of folded up bat like wings.  What was this thing?  It let out a deafening scream as it tried in vain to remove the knife with its beak, its wings flapped and claws flailed wildly tearing into my left arm. 

I grabbed the beast by the neck, close to its head and began to squeeze as hard as I could.  I dropped my flashlight in the chaos and was now fighting the beast in near darkness.  I managed to grab the knife with my other hand and twisted it.  Blood shot out with each beat of its heart.  I yanked my knife free and wildly stabbed again, the blade glanced off the scales on its legs as it continued to thrash around furiously.  I tried in vain to break its neck but failed as it thrashed around, my grip was slipping and I dared not let go of the beasts feathered neck.

In the moments that followed I wished I had brought my .40 caliber Kahr Mk40 pistol, unfortunately it was locked up in my Jeep in the parking lot.  I didn’t want to get it all coated in dirt and mud as I crawled beneath the old building.  It might as well have been a million miles away now that I needed it.

Even though the pain was excruciating I knew I had to hold on to this demonic chicken-bat thing until it bled out.  It clawed at my chest with its sharp talons, ripping my heavy flannel shirt to shreds.

My radio crackled “Hey Marty, what the hell are you doing down there?”  Had Jeff heard the muffled screams?  I couldn’t respond since there was no way I was going to let go of the monsters neck.  I slashed out again with my knife the blade gouging deep in one of the beasts legs, It thrashed around even more fiercely its long tail flailed catching and me in the face sending my glasses and knife flying, it didn’t matter in the darkness my vision was almost useless anyway.

With my free hand I grabbed the monsters tail close to its body and smashed it into an old drain pipe.  Again and again I swung the beast with both hands trying to crush its spine on the old rusty steel pipe.  Soon enough it stopped moving, warm blood covered my gloves and ran down my arms, feathers, and scales were scattered everywhere.

It let out one last chirp and went limp in my arms.  Had killed it?  The beast from the shadows was dead, or was it?  For what seemed like eternity I held the limp beast as far away from me as possible.  I wondered if it was playing dead and would strike as soon as I let go.  I sat in the darkness and the pain in my legs became excruciating.  I tried in vain to move my feet but they wouldn’t respond.  Damn it, the hell chicken bat thing had paralyzed both of my legs below each bite.

My radio crackled again, “Marty are you ok man?  You better not be screwing around!”  He sounded annoyed.  I decided it was ok to let go of the evil beast and dropped it on a pile of dirt, even more dust was kicked up.  In the struggle my mask was ripped open and I was breathing in the stale fetid air.

I found my radio and tried to push the talk button but it slipped out of my grasp.  I shucked off my gloves and weakly cried out.  “I… I, killed it!  Bl… blood.” Was that my voice? I sounded terrible; I needed to pull myself together. 

I dragged myself over to where my flashlight lay in the dirt and examined my wounds.  This wasn’t good, the bite on my right thigh was steadily gushing blood, I suddenly felt light headed, I tried to shake it off but I knew I needed to get to a doctor right away.  Jeff said something on the radio but I was too busy with my bleeding leg to understand him.  I pulled the bandana off my neck that I used to keep spiders from going down my shirt and made a hasty pressure bandage on the wound on my thigh, the wound on my calf would have to wait.  Damn, I didn’t feel good.  I started to drag myself toward the trapdoor, but it seemed hopelessly far away.

The radio crackled again, I couldn't make it out, and then darkness enveloped me.

[bmitchell]

Sounds like a

cockatrice.

Ben

[moose42]

Two points for Ben!   

I am working on Chapter two now.  Let me know if I should post it or hang my head in shame. 

[JesseL]

More please!

[bmitchell]

Post it.

Ben

[moose42]

Chapter 2
I Hate Hospitals

I vaguely remember being placed on a gurney and loaded into an ambulance.  I kept fading in and out of consciousness.  On the way to the hospital, I looked past the paramedics who were obviously busy trying to keep me alive, and saw my Grandfather standing there looking at me.  My Grandfather had died when I was twelve.  

“Grandpa, am I dying?” I managed to croak out.  

He smiled, and I felt calm, all the memories of ice cream and tire swings at the old family farm, flooded my mind briefly.  “No, Marty your work on earth isn’t finished yet but damn you look like crap.”

I coughed a few times, “Thanks, but at least I am still alive.  You’re dead.” I tried to laugh but it hurt too much.

“Listen up grandson, I don’t know how long you will be able to see through the veil.  I can only protect you so much.  You need to be more careful.”  He scowled he wrinkled his brow and rubbed his hand through his wispy white hair were just like I remembered seeing him do as a child.

I nodded then squinted at the old man, “Are you saying you are my guardian angel, and what was that thing that attacked me?”

He nodded, “Yes I am your guardian,” he paused a moment.  “For, behold, I will send serpents, cockatrices, among you, which will not be charmed, and they shall bite you, saith the Lord.  Jeremiah 8:17.”  He recited the scripture from memory.

A lump of bile welled up in the back of my mouth “Are you saying monsters and demons are real?”

“Yes they are.”  With that he was gone.

***

I opened my eyes and looked around; I was in a hospital recovery room.  Flowers and cards littered the table next to me, Mylar balloons floated above my bed.  I had no idea how long I had been lying there.  Judging by the wilted roses I had been out for at least a few days.

I remembered the paralysis I had experienced in the crawlspace and I dreaded the thought of sitting in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.  I wiggled my toes and sighed a long deep sigh of relief, “Thank God, I will walk again.”  I stated to no one in particular.  

A gruff voice groaned, “Finally sleeping beauty decided to wake up!” a large clean shaven dark haired man wearing hospital scrubs was sitting across the room on an uncomfortable chair.

I scowled at the man “You have terrible bedside manners for a nurse.” I stated dryly.  That pissed him off; he jumped out of his chair and his face flushed red.

“Nurse?  I am a freaking federal agent, cable boy!” he yelled in my face.  Feds in my hospital room what the hell was going on?

“Agent Grant, sit down!”  An older man in scrubs stood in the doorway, he didn’t look pleased.  He held a fancy coffee cup from one of those trendy Mocha places.  “Forgive my colleague here he doesn’t like wearing hospital clothes.”  He said as he shut the door and pulled the curtain to block the window.

“Mr. Miller, I am Special Agent Pierce, you’ve already met Special Agent Grant.  We’re from the FBI.” The agent said.

“Yeah he seems to have a chip on his shoulder.” Agent Grant looked like he wanted to rip the IV out of my arm but he bit his tongue with his boss in the room.

Pierce rolled his eyes.  “Do you know what it was that attacked you?”

I sat silent for a moment trying to figure out what to tell these government goons.  I figured they had probably already examined the body of the Chicken-Bat from hell.  “Yeah it was a Cockatrice.”  Agent Pierce’s eyes widened in shock I figured he was expecting an ‘I don’t know.’

He recovered quickly and stated quite seriously, “Yes it was, how in the hell did you know that?”  I didn’t like where this was going so I tried to change the subject.  My head hurt.

“Why are you guys wearing scrubs?” I asked “Don’t Feds usually wear cheap suits?”

Pierce rolled his eyes “We are trying to keep a low profile here, and didn’t want your Mother to suspect anything.”  Mom, yeah she had probably been by my bedside this whole time crying for hours.

The older agent seemed to read my mind, “Its 2:00 am and your mother FINALLY went home to get some sleep.”  He really must have been annoyed with her hovering by my bedside, I chuckled.

“Back on the subject Mr. Miller, how did you know that beast was a Cockatrice?”  He took a sip from his overpriced coffee.

I hesitated, “Well when it bit me it paralyzed my legs.  I figured paralysis was the ‘turn to stone’ power of the myths.” It seemed plausible to me.  “I played D&D when I was a kid.” I added.

“You were lucky it was just a juvenile the adults can cause paralysis with their gaze.”  I felt sick; the Chicken-Bat from hell that tore me up wasn’t even fully grown.

The agent nodded “If you tell anyone about this you will be breaking the Unearthly Forces Disclosure Act, the penalty it carries…”

“Is death.” Grant said it with a sadistic smile.

“Then why did you tell me?”  I was confused.  “If I told anyone about that beast they would just think I was another one of those conspiracy theory nutcases blabbering about chem-trails or that we faked the moon landing.”

Pierce shook his head, “Because as you found out the other day that monsters are real.”  I suddenly had a migraine, this fed confirmed what my grandfather had told me, I still wasn’t sure if he was a dream or not.  “Chem-trails are not real and we did land on the moon.  So it really doesn’t matter what those ‘nutcases’ say does it?”

I closed my eyes and tried to make it all go away, when I opened them again the two men were still in my room.  “So what do I need to do?”

“Tell people a snake bit you.” Pierce said as he dropped the local newspaper on my lap.  The headline read, Local Man Hospitalized After Snake Attack.  I was greeted by my driver’s license photo, and a story about how a large rattle snake had made a nest beneath the old library building.  I looked up from the paper and the men were gone.

***

The next few days flew by.  My legs really didn’t work right, for a while, but after some physical therapy I could walk with crutches and then a cane.  I was released from the hospital and stayed at my parents’ house, my mother insisted.  She stayed home from work for a week and acted like  my personal nurse.

One morning when my mother was out shopping as I was discovering how awful daytime television really was there was a knock at the door.  Annoyed I looked out the front window and saw a black suburban parked out in front of the house.  Then the doorbell rang twice.  I hoped it wasn’t more stinking feds.  I had lied, like they told me, to everyone about my encounter.

I put my small .40 caliber pistol in my pocket, grabbed my cane and hobbled over to the front door.  I looked through the peephole and saw two men in jeans and leather jackets; well at least they weren’t Feds.  I opened the door slowly, I figured I would try and get them off balance “If you’re selling Girl Scout cookies I don’t want any.”

The older man of the two, with a few wispy stands of grey in his thinning hair, chuckled, “Mr. Martin Miller?  I didn’t figure you for a joker.”

“Yes I’m Marty, what do you guys want?”  I hadn’t expected them to know my name.
The older man extended his hand like he wanted to shake mine,
“We know you weren’t bit by a snake.”  My eyes must have betrayed the truth of his statement.
I hesitated, and didn’t grab his hand.  “It was a rattlesnake, didn’t you read the paper?”

The younger man with a chiseled jaw and the frame of an Offensive lineman snorted “Sure, like everything you read in the birdcage liner is true.” He said as he rolled his eyes.

“Can we come in Mr. Miller?” The older man asked.

“Not until I know who you are, and you tell me why you’re packing heat.”  I had noticed a slight bulge beneath the older man’s jacket, probably a large auto in a shoulder holster.

“My name’s Stan Adams, this here’s Dan Vickers.”  He said as he leaned his head toward his partner, “You of all people should know why we carry firearms, especially since you have one in your pocket.”

I was intrigued, and I didn’t feel any malice or danger from these guys, “Ok Stan, and Dan, come have a seat on the couch.”  I motioned my hand toward the couch and let the men in as I closed and locked the door behind them.  Dan plopped down on the couch while Stan waited for me to take a seat in the lazy boy.  Mom did buy nice furniture.

Stan got right down to business.  “Look Mr. Miller we know the Feds have threatened you with death if you talk about your supernatural encounter, we aren’t with the Government and you have nothing to fear from us.”

Dan added, “Yeah we don’t always ‘get along’ with the suits.”

“Don’t you want to know what it was that tore you up?”  Stan probed.

I smiled smugly, these guys underestimated me.  “It was a juvenile Cockatrice.  Or what I like to call the Chicken-Bat from hell.”  The two men looked at each other then back at me.  

Stan smiled, “Yes and you managed to kill it with your bare hands, impressive to say the least.  Most people would have frozen and let the little SOB peck them to death.  You kept fighting even though it paralyzed your legs.”  He pointed to my bandages; I was wearing shorts to make changing them easier.

“Oh I almost forgot, here is the money you are due for killing a juvenile Cockatrice.”  He handed me an envelope with a check for $5,000 dollars.

“Who are you guys?  Why are you here?”  I asked intrigued.

Dan’s eyes were deadly serious “We’re hunters, we exterminate evil.”

Stan was judging my character with his eyes, “We represent Monster Hunters International’s Rocky Mountain Division.  We need men like you to kill monsters.  So what do you say interested?”

Was I ever!

[moose42]

Chapter 3
Road Trip

I quit my job and let my brother take over my apartment.  I hit the local gun stores and bought an M1A Scout squad rifle and ordered a Sage aluminum stock, and a sweet red dot sight.  I picked up a few more magazines for my Springfield 45 XD.  I was told Hunters could carry whatever they wanted as long as it was in .45auto, so I also packed my full size 1911.  Just for the heck of it I tossed my AK-47 in the back seat and covered it with some luggage and bags of junk-food.  The money from killing the Chicken-Bat from hell was sure burning a hole in my pocket.  I burned about four thousand dollars at various gun stores.

I told my parents I had decided to go back to school and had enrolled in Alabama State University.  That would keep them ignorant of my working for an elite paramilitary undead killing outfit.  I loaded up my old Dodge Dakota with my luggage and firearms and hit the road.   I had almost twenty five hundred miles to go from Boise to Cazador, Alabama, somewhere near Montgomery.  This epic road trip gave me time to think about what the heck I was getting myself into.  I was told by Stan Adams that all the new hunters would be put through hunter basic training, which consisted of Army like calisthenics, firearms training and classroom work on evil monsters.

A couple of times when I stopped to fill up the thirsty V8 underneath the hood of my truck I almost turned back to Idaho.  Monsters were real and dangerous; I had learned that well enough and I absently scratched the pink scar on my calf.  Thankfully my legs were just about healed up, I just hoped my muscles would hold up during all the running I knew I was in for.  I wasn’t the world’s fastest runner but I had run in a half marathon last year.  I wouldn’t scare any Kenyans but I could hold my own.

I continued down the road, I was driving through a sparsely traveled section of US highway 6 in Utah, between no and where, watching the miles in my odometer fly by when up ahead I saw a stalled vehicle on the shoulder up ahead.  The hood was up and a young gal was standing in front of the vehicle.  I slowed down as I passed and she looked up at me with an exasperated look on her face.  What the hell, I had planned this trip so I would make it to Birmingham at least three days before my newbie training course was to start.

I stopped my pickup and backed up about thirty feet and came to a stop about fifteen feet in front of the dead vehicle.  It was an old 80’s Ford Taurus, and by the looks of things it didn’t look like it would be moving soon.  Nobody else was in the car, all the available passenger room was stuffed with personal belongings; it didn’t have a front license plate.

I hopped out of the vehicle and made sure my T-Shirt was covering up my pistol.  “Nice place to have a breakdown.”  I called to the young woman, man she was pretty.

She watched me warily, her deep brown eyes trying to burn a hole through my forehead.  She was wearing tight fitting blue jeans and a loose white T-Shirt with the words “Hippies Smell” on the front.  “Tell me about it!” It was about 105 degrees out with no shade for miles.  

I smiled, “So what happened to your car?” I asked.

“I don’t know I was driving along and the engine started making horrible noises until it quit and black smoke started shooting out the tail pipe!” I could tell she was having a bad day.

“Well let me take a look.”  I crawled down beneath the front bumper and saw the contents of the oil pan spilling out onto the pavement.  Not good, time to break the news to the damsel in distress.  I stood up, pointed my finger at the engine like a gun and made a gunshot noise.  “Sorry ma’am we had to put it down.  I’m afraid your engine threw a rod and punched a hole in the oil pan.”

A string of obscenities that would make a drunken sailor blush issued forth from her mouth.  “s___, how am I going to get to...” she paused for a moment, “get to college now?”

“I could take you to the nearest town where you could rent a car.” I offered.

“I can’t afford that, I spent almost all of my money on that Ford POS.” She looked at me with a bit of disdain, “And I don’t take rides from strange men, no offense.”

“None taken, but you are about 80 miles from the nearest town, and my truck has working A/C.”

She looked at me for a moment, trying to judge my character I guessed, “Where are you headed anyway.” She asked.

“I am going to Alabama and you?”  

She looked as if I had just slapped her.  “That’s where I am going too.”

“Well what the coincidence.”  I said slightly shocked.  Sometimes fate drops something amazing right in your lap.  I felt like it had dropped a pallet of bricks on me.

The dark haired beauty held out her hand and said “Name’s Katherine, friends call me Kat.”

I stood there shaking her hand like a blubbering idiot for a moment. “Well Kat, my name’s Martin, people call me Marty or Moose.”

“I guess we aren’t strangers anymore, but be warned I can kick some serious ass if I have to.”  I didn’t doubt it.

We spent the next five minutes moving her belongings from the dead Ford to the back of my pickup.  I hadn’t really brought that much stuff.  Besides a couple of gun cases, my emergency kit and two duffle bags there was plenty of room in the back of my truck for her stuff.  I was surprised when I saw what had to be a gun case in her trunk, but I shouldn’t have been surprised because her shirt said “Hippies Smell” I was falling in love already.

We put her dead car in neutral and pushed it off the shoulder it rolled down the embankment and hit a pile of rocks with a satisfying crash.  I shut the tailgate, closed the lid on the camper shell and in moments we were on the road again.

***

It was great having someone in the front seat to talk to as the road flew by beneath us.  We talked about Alabama, Kat said she had just enrolled in Alabama State University, so I had to hurry and make a new story up.  I wasn’t about to try and lie about attending a school and not even know what majors they offered.  I told her I was moving down there to start a new job.  People did that all the time right?  I just hoped she didn’t probe too much into what kind of job.  Thankfully she didn’t.

Soon the sun began to hover low in the horizon.  Denver was still almost 200 miles away.  The mysterious girl named Kat, had fallen asleep in the passenger seat.  Either she was really tired or she wasn’t afraid of me.  I hoped she believed in the second option.  I had never really been much of a ladies’ man.  I didn't even know where she was from since her car didn't have plates.  She unconsciously rolled toward the door and muttered something incomprehensible.

I yawned as I tried to clear the cobwebs from my eyes.  It had been a long day behind the wheel and I would be glad when I found a place to stay for the night.  I looked at the gas gauge and saw the needle bouncing between Empty and one half.  Dang it, I really should have gotten that fixed before I left on this trip.

I looked up and saw a green sign that read “Exit 87 West Rifle Next Right.” I pulled off at the exit, and headed toward the town looking for a gas station.  Not too far off the freeway I found the glowing neon sign I was looking for.  I pulled up to the pump and turned off the ignition.  Mine was the only vehicle at the whole station.

Katherine woke up and mumbled, “Where are we?” her face had a red mark on it where it had pressed up against the glass.

“Rifle Colorado, the truck needs gas.” I said as I opened the door.  She nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt.  I started filling up the truck and went over to wipe the dried remains of several species of insects from my cracked windshield.

Kat, hopped out and wandered into the gas station, as she headed into the station I couldn't help but notice how nice those jeans looked on her.  I stood there scrubbing a stubborn splat of green goo when a riced up Honda pulled in the pump behind me.  I could feel the loud thump from the cars sub-woofers as it pulled up, thankfully when the ignition turned off the noise quit.

I looked up and saw a scraggly group of Hispanic gang banger wannabes pile out of the small car.  I immediately went to “yellow alert.”  The tallest punk saw me by the side of my truck and must have noticed the amount of luggage in the back end of my pickup.

He swaggered up a few feet from the back of my truck and hollered.  “Hey ese, what you got in your truck?”

I figured I would throw him off balance.  “Bodies.” I replied as emotionless as possible.

 A second punk wearing an over-sized un-tucked shirt and yellow banana had just joined his comrade.  “Did that dude just say bodies?”  he looked at his leader uncertainly.

The first wannabe laughed, “Na this cabron probably got a nice computer or TV, he looks like he's movin'.” He said as he looked at my plates.  He pulled out a butterfly knife and whipped it open.

I didn't like where this was headed so I pulled my AK-47 out of the back seat of my truck.

“ESE you should know better than to bring a knife to a gunfight!”  I yelled menacingly.  They didn't run, they just stood there, I was confused I had expected them to haul butt away from me but they just seemed stunned.  I pulled back on the charging handle and let it fly forward making a loud metal on metal clang as the bolt slammed a round into the chamber.  I shoulder the rifle and pointed it at the punk with the knife.

A third member of their strange posse standing by the bright yellow rice burner yelled.  “That dudes got an Aaay Kaaay!”

They scrambled back to the ricer falling over themselves as they all tried to get in the car at the same time.  I could have shot each one of the idiots three times and still had a few rounds left over by the time they were able to speed away.

I laughed nervously as I watched them go.  This was the first time I had ever pointed a firearm at another human being.  My adrenaline was pumping more than the gas.  Just then I remembered that Kat was in the service station, she would probably freak out seeing me stand here with a Kalashnikov rifle in my hands.

Just then three shots rang out inside the convenience store.  I looked up and saw a body fall to the floor behind the counter.  What the hell was going on?  I shouldered my rifle again and pointed it at the door.  No movement for what seemed like an eternity.

A man came running out of the store his face covered in blood.  He didn't have a weapon that I could see so I lowered my rifle.  He came straight at me a blood curdling inhuman sound, escaped his lips.  His eyes were like those of an animal, I hesitated not knowing what to do.  It was too late, he was upon me in an instant and he slammed me back onto the hood of my truck.  The crazed man swung his fists wildly trying to crush my head in.  I rolled toward the front of my pickup and placed the barrel of my weapon to the his chest.  I jerked the trigger three times, damn that was loud.

The monster fell to the ground but instantly was trying to get up again.  His lips curled back in a snarl like a rabid dog.  I placed the front sight on his head and fired again.  He fell to the ground and remained still.  I looked back at the store scanning for more threats, nothing.  I walked fast to the store with my rifle in hand pointed in front of me.  I was probably making a bad move, but I had to find Kat.

I reached the front of the store and looked inside, a large man was lying face down in a pool of spilled beer near the counter, and I didn't see anyone else in the store.  I opened the door, with one hand and looked around, it was empty.  “Kat are you OK?” I called, no response, but maybe the ringing in my ears was blocking out the sound.  I slowly entered the store, cheese puffs, beer, and candy bars had been spilled all over the floor.

I had no idea what I was doing, but I decided to go left and work my way around the store.  I went down an aisle of car accessories, a couple of pints of oil and air fresheners had been strewn about the floor.  I came to the end of the row and swung around by the beer cases.  Nothing.  My heart pounded as I moved, I began to breath heavily.

I called out again “Katherine, where are you?”  Only the humming from the coolers answered.  I prayed that the cops wouldn't show up, because they would probably shoot me thinking I was the aggressor.  I slowly walked by each aisle, some were normal others had product strewn across the floor like a college kids dorm.  I came to the entrance to the bathrooms, the hallway had two single use bathrooms on the right side of the hallway and a maintenance closet at the end.  The door to the women’s restroom was closed.

“Kat, you in there?”  I called.

A frightened voice called out, “Marty is that you?” her voice trembled, but man it was good to hear her voice.

“Yes, I was attacked, and I shot what appeared to be a zombie.”  I tried to hide the fear and adrenaline in my voice.  “Who did the shooting in here?”  I asked.

“I did,” she called, “I dropped the zombie by the counter.”

“Did you see any more?”

“Two more, probably the one that attacked you and the one in the...” I didn't get a chance to hear the rest of what she said; I was grabbed from behind, and thrown into a display of crispy puff cereal.  I lost my rifle and the former gas station attendant started kicking me in the face.  I put up my hands to block helplessly I tried to reach for my pistol as my head bounced off the hard floor.  Two rapid shots rang out followed up quickly by a third, and the beast fell limp beside me.

“Thanks!”  I gasped.  

“What!” Katherine yelled back, firing a pistol in the hallway was deafening.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!”  I yelled as I crawled to my feet.  I retrieved my rifle and we ran out to my pickup.  Thankfully I had enough presence of mind to pull the fuel hose out of my truck and grab the receipt.  I turned the key and we were gone.  A few blocks from the store I realized I was doing fifty miles an hour in a twenty zone.  I slowed down to a more reasonable speed.  Just then two police cars swiftly drove past us heading for the gas station.

I got on the interstate and we headed toward Denver.

[CameronS]

 

Very well done. I look forward to the rest.

[bmitchell]

Nice.

Ben

[Raptor]

I've been following this, and I like it. Can't wait to see where this is going.

[moose42]

Well I have one more chapter but I still have to go back through it to make sure it is fit for public consumption.     Maybe I will post it tomorrow, or later today if work is slow.  I am glad you guys seem to like it but I don't think my writing is that good.   

[moose42]

Well you guys are in luck.  I didn't have any trouble tickets so I was able to go over chapter 4 again, and get it ready to read.  
Remember I am not the best writer so if there are issues with commas or other crap like that please forgive me.  

Chapter 4
Get Out of the Dodge

I had to put the truck on cruise control to keep from speeding.  My head hurt and my mind was racing, faster than the truck.  Kat sat in silence in the passenger seat; obviously she must have felt the same way.  After a few miles I figured we both needed to talk.

“Thanks.” I offered.

“For what?” she looked over at me.

I glanced over at her, “For saving my butt.  That zombie thing was going to kill me.”

She blushed, I quickly put my eyes back on the road.  “Just consider it a 'you owe me'.”'

“OK I figure that makes us even.” I chuckled.

Her voice took on a bit of fire “Even?  I saved your life all you did was give me a ride.” I couldn't argue with that.

“We should call someone.” I stated as a matter of fact.

“Yeah right who?” she rolled her eyes, “If we tell people that we were attacked by man eating zombies in a gas station they will toss us in the loony bin.”

“Not everyone would.”  I stated in all seriousness.  I pulled out the business card that Stan had given me and handed it to her.  She took it and gasped.

 “No freaking way!” she sounded surprised.

“Kat, monsters are real.  I am on my way to start training to become...”

She cut me off.  “I know that blockhead!”  Surprised I looked over at her and she held up two of the same business cards.  “Stan recruited me too.”

I didn't know what to say, it was an awkward moment.  The roar of the tires over pavement, and the wind slapping the windshield was all I heard for a while.  “Well Kat, give him a call and let him know what happened.”

She whipped out her phone and called.  Excitedly she related the whole story of the zombie attack, and how she had killed two of them and I had gotten one.  I could tell he was obviously surprised that I was with her when she then told him about her car breaking down and my 'rescuing' her.  After a few more moments she hung up the phone.

“Well what did Stan say? I asked, it was horrible only hearing one side of the conversation.

“He told us to find a hotel in the nearest town and get a good night’s sleep.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not like that you pervert!”  I laughed, “He said it isn't safe to drive after an adrenaline spike and crash.”  I had noticed I was driving a bit erratically, my hand shook every time I took them off the wheel.

“Then what?” I asked.

She looked disappointed, “We are to continue on to Alabama for training.”

I understood perfectly, he didn't want to send newbies back into the fight, and get themselves killed.  “So I guess they will be sending a professional team in to clean up any additional zombies.”

“Exactly.” she said, “What's the next town?”

***

We pulled into the parking lot of a cheap motel “The Good Nite Inn.”  I walked up the counter and realized by the look on the face of the guy behind the counter I probably looked almost like a zombie myself.

“Yes can I get two rooms please?” The clerk snapped out of it and started typing on the computer.

“Just one room.” Katherine said as she entered the office.  Both the clerk and I looked up at her, “Just make sure it has two beds!” She demanded as she set down her suitcase.  She mumbled something about perverted men.

I opened the door to room 42 and flipped on the lights, it was your typical cheap motel, brown shag carpet and ugly flower print comforters on the twin beds.  I brought a duffle bag and my rifle case, as did Katherine.

“So what do you have in there?” I asked.  She must have thought I was talking about her suitcase until I pointed at her long gun case.

“Oh I have a Remington 870 and an AR-15, and yours?”

“I've got an M14 clone, and my AK-47.”  I said as I opened my case and pulled out each rifle and learned them up against the wall next to the bed.  “So why the single room?” I asked.

Kat rolled her eyes as she picked up her suitcase and headed toward the bathroom.  “Stan thought it best that we stay in the same room in case any zombies showed up during the night.”

“I guess that makes sense.”  I said as I rubbed my sore jaw.  I had a splitting headache.

I flipped on the idiot box while Katherine showered.  I channel surfed and stopped at each news channel looking for a report of a massive zombie outbreak that never appeared.

Kat came out of the bathroom wearing an over-sized t-shirt as a nightgown; she was back lit as she stood in the doorway, her curves with silhouetted against the fabric.  I couldn't help but stare for a bit too long.  

“Take a picture Moose!” she growled.

I blushed “I wasn't... I mean... umm... sorry.”  I grabbed my duffle bag and fled into the bathroom.  Stupid stupid stupid.  Why did I always screw up when it came to women?  

I showered and changed into running shorts and a t-shirt, it felt good to get clean again.  My cheek had swollen up bad where the zombie had decided to try tap dancing on my face.

I came out of the bathroom and Kat sat on her bed watching the news.  She was engrossed in the news story.  On the screen was security camera footage from the convenience store.  It showed Kat in the middle of the store shooting at a store clerk who was mostly out of the frame.  If I hadn't known any better it looked like a robbery gone bad.  Suddenly the security camera footage abruptly stopped and the channel displayed the test pattern.  A startled news caster came one the air after a few moments and apologized for the interruption, he claimed that their playback unit had just failed and destroyed the security camera tape.  We looked at each other and back at the newscast.  Then they moved on to sports.

“Cover-up?” She asked, as she turned off the television.  I could only assume so, I nodded.  My stomach gurgled, and she laughed a cute girlie laugh.  “Are you hungry?”

I tipped the Chinese restaurant delivery guy and grabbed the greasy paper bags from him and closed the door.  We sat at the little table in our hotel room and tore into the Styrofoam containers.  Mmm sweet and sour chicken with fried rice, I nearly drooled.  I shoveled in a few mouthfuls; oh it was good to eat something after the adrenaline crash from earlier.

“So how did you wind up getting recruited by MHI?” I asked.

Katherine swallowed a bite of moo goo gai pan and replied.  “I had a run in with a couple of imps, back home, in Oregon.”  She took another bite of Chinese food and looked like she didn’t want to talk about it.

I finished my fried rice and leaned back in my chair.  My eyes were getting heavy.  It had been a long day.

Kat finished eating, tossed down her plastic fork and asked, “So what’s your story then?”

I quickly related my encounter in the crawlspace with the Cockatrice.  She listened intently soaking up every detail.  I tried to down play the whole thing but Kat wasn’t buying it.

“So let me get this straight you basically killed the beast with your bare hands?” she looked confused “Why didn’t you just shoot it?” she asked dubiously.

I sighed, “I figured there was nothing to worry about except spiders and cobwebs down there so I didn’t bring my pistol, I didn’t want it to get messed up as I crawled through the dirt.”

“So it bit you?” she asked.  “Where?”

“Here,” I said as I pointed at the ugly scar on my calf, it was a ragged slash of scar tissue still pink and tender.  I explained the excruciating pain and the sudden paralysis that I had experienced.  She yawned.

I looked at my watch it was already one o’clock in the morning. “Holy crap it’s late!” I groaned.  I moved over to my bed and tossed my watch on the night stand.  I turned around and Kat was right behind me, I was a bit surprised.  “What?” I asked.

She grabbed me in a big bear hug and squeezed me tight.  “Thanks.”  She said a slight tremble in her voice.

“For what?”  I asked as I returned her hug.  Her slender form felt somehow fragile in my arms.  I towered over her; I was a head and shoulders taller than she.

“Nothing.”  She said as she pushed me away, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”  I replied a bit stunned.

***

I had disturbing dreams of zombies chasing me down an alley.  I came to the end of it scrambled like a trapped like rat as they tore me apart.  I awoke with a start, sweat ran down my face.  The dream had been so vivid.  I looked over at Kat, she was fast asleep how I envied her.  I picked up my watch, it was only 5:30am, great.  I rolled over on the lumpy mattress and tried to fall back asleep.  After a few minutes of futile sheep counting I pulled out my journal, and flipped on the reading light.

Met a wonderful woman yesterday, I scribbled.  Katherine… I paused; I didn’t even know her last name.  She is beautiful, and packs a pistol, even if it is a Glock!  I found her stranded by the side of the road in an old broken down car.  We ran into some zombies in a gas station.  She saved my butt.  She gave me a hug last night.  I don’t really know anything else about her other than she is going to be one of my co workers. :-D

I closed my journal and stuffed it back into a pocket of my duffel bag.  Kat must have heard me rummaging in my bag, she stirred.  “Marty?  What time is it?” she groaned.  

“Not quite six.”  I replied.  

She sighed, “Too early you big lug.  Go back to bed.”  With that she rolled over and covered up her head with the ugly blankets.

An hour later we were on the road again, we stopped at the local grease franchise for a to-go breakfast and we let the pavement fly by.  The trip was boring and uneventful, but each time we stopped for gas I insisted we stick together just in case.  We made it to little Rock Arkansas a little before midnight.  On the trip I learned her Last Name, it was Kennedy.  No relation to the political dynasty thankfully.

The next day we made good time and arrived in Montgomery at about four pm.  We both weren’t due to show up to the MHI compound until Tomorrow by 10:00 am so I insisted we go shopping in Montgomery for anything we might have forgotten or didn’t have.
“But Marty, I don’t have hardly any money remember.  Plus I have everything I need.”  She complained.

I handed her a wad of cash and said “Here now you do.”  She didn’t take it.  “Consider it a gift.”  She scowled at that, “Fine a loan then.  You can pay me back when you get your first paycheck.” Reluctantly she took the wad of bills and stuffed it in her pocket.

Never take a woman shopping!  Three hours later I understood what married men always complain about.  The one bright spot was she had forgotten to bring a swimming suit, and she modeled four different suits for me.  She jokingly called me a pervert because I had to pick my jaw off the floor a couple of times.  Hey I couldn’t help it Kat really is a knockout.  

She had her own set of scars from her Imp encounter.  Jagged red lines ran from the front of her shoulder around her arm and halfway down her back.  Kat was a bit self conscious about them until I told her they looked like cat scratches.

“Meow.” I joked and curled my fingers like claws.  She grinned, what a pretty smile.

We arrived the next morning at the road leading to the MHI compound.

“Are you ready for this?”  I said nervously.

“Bring it on.” She said with no emotion.

With that I drove up to the gate.

[CameronS]

I am glad you guys seem to like it but I don't think my writing is that good.   

I'll be honest, it's not going to win any awards. However, it is a very fun read and I know I'm not the only one who's interested to see where the story will go.

Chapter 4 . . . very good. Very good indeed. The characters are growing a bit as well, and that's great too. Post away!   

[Splodge Of Doom]

Moose,

I've been scribbling around here and there with an idea of an MHI fanfic.

When it's done would you be ok with sharing the thread or should I start another?

[Raptor]

I think you should start a new thread, just so it doesn't become confusing.

Honestly, I've been bouncing around an idea for one as well (would be writing it if I wasn't already started Ten Millimeter). When (not if, it's only a matter of time before I cave), I'll probably start my own thread.

[Avenger29]

Moar, please.

[moose42]

Chapter 5
Monster Hunter International

We drove up to the gate and stopped as the guard held up his hand.  He was a young tall black man carrying a polymer sub machinegun.  I rolled down the window and said hello.

He looked at my Idaho plates and exclaimed, “Man you have come a long way!” He glanced down at his clipboard, “Martin Miller I presume?  Why didn’t you catch a flight?”

I nodded “Yes I’m Martin, and I hate flying especially with firearms, it’s a pain in the butt.”  I shook the guards’ hand.

He looked in the car and saw Kat.  “My name’s Trip, and who’s your girlfriend?”

Kat turned red, “Hey I’m not his girlfriend, I’m Katherine Kennedy, a new Hunter too.”

The guard looked slightly embarrassed, “Sorry, it’s just new trainees don’t typically travel together.”

I butted in “So where do I…”

“Park?” he finished my sentence for me, “Up in the lot on the left next to the main building, be sure to sign in at the front desk.” He waived us on through the gate.

We parked in the lot next to an old brown beat up Volkswagen Bus.  Kat looked at it and just shook her head.  Man it felt good to be able to stretch my legs.  The scars on my legs ached; I really hoped we didn’t have to run today.

We wandered into the lobby of the fortress like building and found the front desk.  A little old lady watched us come in; she smiled as we came up to the desk.  “Well aren’t you a cute couple.” She said in a cheerful voice.  “Welcome to Monster Hunter International!  Which one of you is here for the new hire training?”

Kat must have figured it wasn’t worth arguing with the grandmotherly woman. “We both are.” She stated proudly.

“Oh dearie me you remind me of myself when I was younger, that’s the spirit girl!”  The sugar in her voice was getting irritating. “Sign in here.” She placed a well worn clipboard with an attached pen on the counter.  We both signed our names and I handed the clipboard back to the odd old lady.

“Well Miss, Kennedy, and Mr. Miller, welcome to MHI my name is Dorcas.” I was caught off guard by her name and snickered.  All the sugar in her voice vanished, it was replaced by smoldering ire.   “Think that’s funny do ya boy?”  

“No Mrs. Dorcas.” I looked down at my boots.

“I’ve got my eye on you Mr. Miller now SCRAM before I get mad and smack you up side your head with this here clipboard.”  I retreated to the drinking fountain.  Memories of my iron handed third grade teacher, Mrs. Baker came flooding back to my mind.

I watched the two women as I took a drink.  Dorcas said something to Kat and they both laughed.

“What was that about?” I asked as we walked down the hallway.

Kat smirked, “Nothing.” I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere so I let it go.

We passed by a wall covered in silver plaques.  Hundreds of them lined the wall.  “Kat, look at these.”  I said somberly.  We both stood in front of the memorial and looked at the hundreds of names.  

As I was about to turn away a plaque caught my eye.  “Roy Lee Miller 1935-1993”  I gasped.  It was my grandfather, the picture of him was younger than I ever remembered but his smile was just the same.

“What's wrong?” Kat asked.  Then she saw the plaque I was staring at.  “Marty was that your grandfather?”  I nodded somberly, tears began to well up in my eyes.

“I had no Idea, I always thought he worked for the power company.”  I managed to choke out.  “One time he came home badly burned, so bad he needed skin grafts, he told us it happened on a power pole when the wire he was holding hit high voltage lines.” I wiped my eyes and turned around.  I was determined to know the truth.

We were early, only two other trainees were waiting in the cafeteria slash meeting room.  One of them had his nose in a book, the other looked like he was trying to get a few minutes shut eye before training began.  I was about to sit down in the back row when Kat walked right up to the front row of seats and sat down.  I shrugged, she must have gotten straight A's in school.  I sat down next to her and tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye.

Trainees arrived over the next twenty minutes until we had about fifty, people, mostly male but there were a few women in the group.  I sat looking at the floor when I heard a commanding voice tell us to quiet down and listen up.  A strong imposing man wearing a leather bomber jacket addressed us.  I had a strange feeling I had seen him before.  It bothered me and I studied his face, but I couldn't figure it out so I figured I should start paying attention.

"Hello. My name is Earl Harbinger.  I'm the Director of Operations here at MHI. Welcome to our new Hunter orientation. Let's get one thing straight right off the bat. We hunt monsters, it's our job.  Every one of you has had a run in with some creature of the dark.  It is this darkness that we fight against.  In the coming days I would just ask for one thing. Keep your mind flexible. Don't get caught up thinking that monsters aren't real, because if you can't believe in them, you can't fight them."  Harbinger commanded attention, and we all were giving him all of it.

“Monster Hunters International has a long proud history going back since 1895.  If you are to join the ranks of Hunters you have a heavy burden on your shoulders to not disgrace the names of those who came before you.”  Was he looking right at me?  I wasn't sure.  My mind was racing I was having a hard time concentrating.
Before I knew it Earl quit speaking and asked for questions.  Nobody moved even though if they were anything like me they had lots of questions.

I raised my hand.  I could feel all the eyes behind me trying to bore a hole in the back of my head.  “Do you have records on every fallen Hunter?”

Harbinger looked a bit puzzled, this obviously wasn't a regular question.  “Most of them, what's your name?”

“Miller, Martin Lee Miller.” I said trying to keep from choking up.

I could tell he knew instantly who I wanted information on.  “Well Miller, we can talk later in private.”


***

We had been brought to the barracks and told to quickly stow our gear and change into workout clothes.  The first order of business was the physical fitness tests.  They wanted to know how well we could run, do push ups and sit ups.  I had just finished tying my running shoes and was about to leave the barracks when Harbinger put a hand on my shoulder and told me to wait and join the others later.  The other recruits left the barracks and hit the track.

“Have a seat.”  He pointed to a stool next to my bunk, and grabbed another from the neighboring bunk.  He sat and crossed his hands behind his head.  “Roy Miller was one of the best Hunters I ever had the pleasure to work with.”

I had trouble forming a response, the pain of his sudden death that I had spent the last sixteen years burying in the back of my mind and been wrenched to the front.  Harbinger could tell I was dealing with these inner demons and we sat in silence for what seemed an eternity.  Finally I pulled myself together enough to say one word. “How?”

He leaned forward his voice dripped with somber tones one uses to reverently speak of fallen comrades.  “We were doing a job in New Mexico, Carlsbad Caverns.   One of the caves was infested with vampires, and wights.  Everything was going well we had killed three lesser vampires and dozens of wights, when we disturbed a master vampire.  He killed two of our team members before we even knew he was there.”  Harbinger closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“Your grandfather managed to stake the beast in the heart.  But it only slowed the master down.  Roy fought with it hand to hand and managed to cut its head off.” he paused.  “But not until it had mortally wounded him.  He bled out before we could get him back to the surface.”

I sat stunned taking it all in.  “At least he went out with his boots on, and killed the bas***d.”  I realized where I had seen Harbinger before.  “You spoke at his funeral, didn't you?”  He nodded.  “You haven't aged a day.”

Earl reached into his jacket and pulled out an old Ka-Bar knife, Its leather had become dark with age, it was well worn but still serviceable.  He handed it to me.  “Roy told me as he lay dying that I was to give  his trusty old Ka-bar that he carried in Korea to the grandchild that followed in his footsteps.”

I reverently held the knife in both hands, tears welled up in my eyes, I pulled the knife from its sheath and examined the well worn blade.  It had nicks in the blade and parts of the finish had worn off for years of hard use, but it still had many years of fight left in her.  I flipped it over and saw the initials RLM etched into it.  “This is the blade he used to kill the vampire isn't it.”

“Yes.” he said somberly as I re sheathed the knife.

“Grandpa I won't let you down.”  I said as I reverently placed it in my footlocker.

[maskedhobo]

I really like this! Can't wait to read more.

[CameronS]

The grandfather bit was a very nice touch, as was inserting Trip. Keep it up!

[moose42]

That's all I have right now.  I am glad you guys seem to be enjoying it.  This is my first attempt at writing for pleasure in years.  All the writing I have done for a long time was for college classes.  Thankfully I don't have that problem anymore. 

[moose42]

Hi guys I want to add this to the description of Grandpa Millers Ka-Bar, in chapter 5.  Calling all Latin majors.

Inlaid in silver down the length of the blade were the words, “Tergum Ut Abyssus!” I looked at Earl with a puzzled look; I had always hated Latin in high school.

“Back to Hell!” he explained.

Please let me know if you have a better Latin phrase to use.


Chapter 6
Training

“Ready on the line!”  Sam Haven the range master bellowed so we could hear over our hearing protection.  “Commence firing!” all the other trainees fired immediately.  I took my time, the target wasn't going anywhere.  The front sight, rear sight and black bull’s-eye aligned perfectly, I held my breath and gently squeezed the trigger.  The rifle barked, the rifle gently recoiled into my shoulder; the smell of burning gunpowder hit the air.  The bullet flew down range and hit the black.

I cycled the bolt loading another .22 caliber cartridge into the chamber.  Front sight, rear sight, target, breath, squeeze, bang!  I fired slowly and methodically taking my time to try and exactly duplicate each shot.  Front sight, rear sight, target, breath, pause.  I hadn't liked how I was lined up on the target so I started over.  Front sight, rear sight, target, breath, squeeze, bang!  I was the last to finish firing; as I put the safety on the rifle, pulled the bolt to the rear and set it down on the bench.  The trainee next to me, a skinny young Asian named Kim had thrown his rounds down range almost as fast as he could cycle the action.

“Cease Fire!” The range master yelled.  On the firing line the range master was a god, you did what he said or faced ejection.  “Take off your eyes and ears.”  We removed our hearing protection and shooting glasses.  “Let’s take a look at your targets.”

We were shooting on the fifty foot range.  This was a preliminary test to see how well we could shoot before we were broken into training groups based on skill.  Some of the new recruits had never fired a weapon before.

We walked out to the first target as a group, only two rounds had hit the paper, high and to the right.  “Whose target is this?” Sam the tall imposing cowboy asked.

Gingerly Sara raised her hand.  “It's mine sir.”  She said timidly, she had been a waitress before and had obviously no experience with firearms.

Gently he explained “Looks like you are jerking the trigger.  Your whole hand is moving when you shoot.  Try to concentrate on moving just your trigger finger, nothing else should be moving.” he held up his hand.  He slowly moved just his trigger finger in a controlled slow movement.  “When you jerk it this happens.” he moved his whole hand backward in a rapid motion.  “That will move the whole rifle and cause your shots to go who knows where.”  Sara nodded.

We moved down the line at each target he would take his time to explain what the shooter had done wrong and explain to them and the entire class what to do to correct it.

Then he came down to my target.  “Who's target is this?”

I raised my hand, “Mine sir!” I boasted slightly.  

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked.  All of my rounds had hit in the black.  Four of the rounds were touching, and the fifth wasn't that far off.

“Scout camp sir.” I said proudly.

Sam smiled, “Are you an Eagle scout?”

“Yes Sir!” I smiled back.

We returned to our shooting positions and fired at the remaining four targets.  Most of the students improved a little with the instructions given by Sam, but most had a long way to go.

We were dismissed for lunch and I was itching to talk to Kat.  She was put in another training group, and I hadn't seen her for most of the day.  I was thinking about her when we were crossing the exercise field, and didn't see the gopher hole.

“Son of a...!” I yelled as I fell to the ground, I could already tell that I had messed up my ankle.  Kim and Sara laughed when they saw me fall.

“Looks like Mister Boy Scout isn't so perfect after all!” I glared up at her from the ground, she just kept walking.

Kim laughed at me, “Dude first day on your new feet?” I gritted my teeth and tried to get up.  Fire shot up my ankle.  Kim extended a hand and I waved him off.

“I am just fine!” I lied.  I pulled myself up and tried to step on my wounded foot.  Big mistake, flaming nails shot through my foot, and I swayed precariously.

Kim grabbed a hold of me to keep me from falling on my face again.  “Whoa slow down hot shot.  Let me help you.”  I reluctantly let him help me across the field and into the main compound.  “We need to get you to the Doc.”

I shook my head, “Let’s get lunch first I am starving, then I'll go to the doc.” I actually wasn't that hungry but I didn't want to miss a chance to see Kat.

“Alright it’s your funeral not mine.”

I hobbled into the cafeteria and found a seat no sooner did I sit down Kat's training group arrived.  They had just gotten out of Introduction to Monsters 101.  When she saw me she smiled.  I forgot my pain and smiled back.  She sat across the table from me, “So how did you do?” she asked.

“Oh not too bad, I qualified for the advanced shooting group.” I said with a bit too much pride.

“Really?  Me too!” She wore a mischievous grin. “Looks like I can't get rid of you, I knew I should have shot a beginners score.”

I rolled my eyes, “Sure, whatever you say Annie Oakley.”

The next couple of weeks flew by; thankfully my ankle recovered, I only had to miss two exercise sessions, they made me pay penance for it by working in the kitchen.

We covered small unit tactics with drills on close quarters combat, hand to hand fighting, advanced marksmanship, in-depth monster behaviors and weaknesses.  Nearly every minute of each day was filled with something to help us survive our first monster hunt, and hopefully our second.

The instructors didn’t sugar coat the truth, casualty rates for first year Hunters was very high.  This was a sobering thought, since statistics like that don’t really hit home until you know someone who has died.  My grandfather had been a Hunter for over thirty years when he died.  He was about ready to retire when that servant of evil killed him.    

I won’t go into detail about the decapitation class, some things I would just rather forget.  Suffice it to say, when dealing with vampires, the best way to keep them dead is cutting off the head.

Today we would be issued our armor.  Only the recruits who made it into the final stage of training were issued armor.  Out of the original group of fifty five recruits only eighteen remained.  Thankfully Sara decided to return to waitressing, while Kim and Katherine had decided to stay.  Kat had such a fire and determination behind her deep brown eyes, she would never quit.  During the times when I had my doubts and thoughts of quitting and going back to pulling cables I would think of her and how I couldn’t let her beat me.

I struggled into my armor, I hadn’t ever worn anything like this before.  I opted for the Olive drab color.  Charles Brewer, already had his Brown armor on and it looked like it was made for him, everything was perfectly in its place.  He had served in the Marines for just over 15 years until a blow to the head had caused him to lose a little of his peripheral vision in one eye.  He fought his medical discharge saying he could still fight and shoot with the best of them.  But the government prevailed and forced him out.  We had hit it off right away when he found out my Grandfather was a former Marine and Hunter.  I called him Gunny, or Sarge.

“Miller, let me help you, you’re just going to make it worse!” He said as I struggled with the tangled mess I was trying to put on.  He came over and started tugging at the straps on my armor.

I sighed, “Gunny, how did you guys ever fight wearing this stuff?”  He ignored me and continued to straighten out my harness.

“There you go boy, but don’t expect me to hold your hand next time!” he gave me a couple of friendly smacks on the shoulder and we left the barracks to meet the rest of the team assembled on the exercise field, for uniform inspection.

We came around the barracks and I saw Kat all dressed up in her dark green armor, even under the layers of heavy duty nylon and Kevlar she looked great.  When she saw Sarge and I walking up she smiled, a pure feminine smile that made me weak in the knees.

Sarge elbowed me in the ribs, even beneath armor it still hurt.  “Snap out of it lover boy, you were practically drooling.”  

I punched him playfully on the shoulder.  “I was not.”  I was about to go up to talk to Kat when Milo yelled for us to line up.  We quickly found our places in line and he came around to inspect each of us.  Milo was the resident crazy inventor and handyman.  He had returned last week from his honeymoon with his new wife Shauna.

When it was my turn to be inspected he rolled his eyes and went to work adjusting my armor.  He took one look at Gunny and just nodded.

As we were about to be dismissed a siren sounded from multiple loud speakers.   None of us trainees were armed; Milo just had a 1911 pistol on his belt.

The siren cut off, Dorcas yelled into the microphone.  “This is not a drill, perimeter breach northwest corner behind the men’s barracks, this is not a drill!”  I suddenly realized we were just on the other side of the barracks from whatever it was that had just hopped the fence.

Gunny grabbed my arm and we ran toward the main compound.  Kat, Kim and others were already ahead of us.  We had been instructed to seek shelter in the basement of the primary compound in the event of an emergency.  Milo was running and firing his .45 over his shoulder at whatever was chasing us, which made me run even faster.  In seconds the slide locked back on his pistol and he hastily reached for a new magazine.

The compound was still a hundred yards away when decided to look over my shoulder, ten ghastly grey former human shapes were closing the distance incredibly fast.  I poured on as much speed as I could muster while wearing combat boots and heavy armor, but I knew they would overtake us and rip us apart with their ghastly claws.

Hunters poured out of the main compound brandishing rifles and pointed them right at us.  Sam Haven still wearing his Stetson hat bellowed. “Get down!”  We hit the dirt and the hunters opened up on the monsters.

I lay on the ground as hundreds of rounds ripped by inches above my head.  Kat was off to my left, she tried to cover her head with her arms, and she glanced at me, her face was a mask of fear and panic.  I am sure I didn’t look any better.  I pulled grandpa’s Ka-Bar knife out of its old leather sheath, if some dammed undead somehow made it through the withering hail of gunfire I wanted a fighting chance.

I rolled over on my back and looked back at the approaching enemy.  A wight collapsed only twenty feet away.  I heard barking and saw from the corner of my eye a large dog.  Vampire dogs?  Those hadn’t been covered in class.  More shots were fired and the dog whimpered but it was too late.

Snarling undead teeth lunged for my neck; I shoved my thumb in its glowing red eye and grabbed a handful of matted hair and ear.  I plunged the Ka-Bar knife deep into the dead dog’s neck.  Black blood sprayed everywhere.  The beast thrashed trying to get its head free to rip out my throat.  I kicked it with both legs somehow sending it airborne.  In an amazing feat of marksmanship Sam nailed the beast in mid air with his massive lever action rifle.  It fell in a heap of twisted legs and gore.  The guns had gone silent; the danger was over for now.

I lay on the ground breathing heavily, Kat ran over to me.  “Marty are you ok?” she looked down at me her face worried.

I stretched out my hand; it took two of them to get me back on my feet.  “I think so.”  I looked over at the twice dead mutt and asked.  “What was that thing?”

Sam took off his cowboy hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “That there is a Demon Dog, Dead Dog, or Devil Dog.” He said.  Gunny took offense to the term Devil Dog.  Only US Marines were called that.  “The important thing is these beasts are pets and servants of Master vampires.”
 
I shuddered, “Why would they be so brazen and attack the MHI compound directly in broad daylight?”

Kim who was crouched down next to one of the dead wights, spoke up “Guys, I think I know why.  Look.”

The wight was lying on its back, written in red human blood on its chest was “Feast upon the blood of Miller!”  Every wight had the same message written on their chests.

I threw up.

[CameronS]

Hi guys I want to add this to the description of Grandpa Millers Ka-Bar, in chapter 5.  Calling all Latin majors.


Chapter 6
Training

Great phrase. Back to Hell, indeed . . .

This chapter was great, but I thought that the idea of wights attacking MHI headquarters in broad daylight was just a little corny. I think they'd wait 'til midnight or something.

And Milo's wife's name is Shauna. Keep up the good work!

[bmitchell]

Didn't MHI have noise-cancelling earplugs?  So, he wouldn't have to shout, or tell them to remove them?

Ben

[moose42]

I figured the noobs would use regular plugs until they were issued the fancy custom fit ones.

[bmitchell]

Ok.

Ben