nearly 3000 words in...
Here's another bit.
October 31, 2107
Fort Elysium
The sun was falling rapidly from the sky when the cry went up at the outer gate.
“Courier!”
“About damn time,” Malcolm muttered. He blew the eraser dust from the piece of paper he’d just finished erasing and glanced gloomily at the worn end of his eraser. It was nearly gone, and their supply of pencils, like everything else in this godforsaken fort, was rapidly diminishing.
Pushing that thought aside for the moment, he rose from his desk and left his office. He walked rapidly down the hall, nodding to those he met on his way. He passed several other offices; men and women who helped do the dirty work of running the fort worked out of several. A few had been converted into school rooms for the children who called Fort Elysium home. The classrooms were empty now, the children had gone to supper hours ago and were no doubt preparing to go to bed in the most protected area of Elysium, the concrete bunkers in the very center of the base.
Fort Elysium was a new installation, built to replace Fort Lewis when the Tacoma area was lost to sea. Originally it had been named something else, but its original name was long forgotten. After the Rising, one of the survivors had named it Elysium as kind of a joke, and the name had stuck.
Malcolm knew how lucky they were to have what they had with the place. Despite the current peace they’d had with their fellow nations, the United States had not been lax in security and built accordingly. There were gates and towers and bunkers and all manner of things a body could want in the name of keeping out the unwanted. And now, with the creatures that hunted humans, day or night, it didn’t matter, it was one of the only truly safe places left in this part of Washington.
He passed through the main doors of the Administrative building and stopped on the concrete steps that led down to the parking lot below, waiting to meet the Courier. The only other people outside the safety of the bunkers and buildings were those on guard that night. Armed with weapons both modern and archaic, they stood watch over those within, ready to fight and kill whatever tried to come over the fence.
It was riskier at night. The dark made it harder for humans to see, and the creatures that hunted them had no such difficulty. Some creatures, werewolves - even now he had difficulty in calling them that, it seemed so absurd - hunted in packs or singularly, day or night. Other creatures, the vampires, hunted in smaller groups or as solitary hunters only at night. They were difficult to defend against, as they could bewitch and bespell humans fairly easily if they drew close enough. The trick was to stay on your toes, be aware, and kill the damned things before they got too close. But the worst of all were the dragons. It was only a small blessing that their numbers were the fewest of all the predators that hunted because they were damned nigh-impossible to kill, armored as they were with plates of scale from head to tail. There were other creatures as well, smaller, nameless things that attacked in swarms that could strip a man of his flesh in less than a minute; others that fed on whatever it was that made a man a man, his soul, if you wanted. They could suck it right out of the body and leave nothing behind but a mindless shell, no longer capable of caring for itself.
All of the creatures were hard to kill. The werewolves could be killed with silver, stakes or bullets, both worked effectively, though bullets were definitely the safer route. The vampires, on the other hand, could only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart followed by decapitation. Malcolm had seen vampires recover from simply being shot with a wooden crossbow bolt through the heart; it was rare, but it did happen. The only sure way was to take their heads. Dragons, however, were something else entirely. As yet, no one had figured out a truly effective way to kill them, or even drive one away. The best defense was to run, (and fast too, because the things were quick and agile, despite their immense size) and find someplace inflammable. And then hope that the dragon would leave in search of easier prey.
Malcolm shook his head, pushing his musings aside. He could hear the steady rumble of the Courier’s motorcycle drawing closer and he frowned. It was dangerous, cocky even, to ride openly on something that made that much noise. It was only asking for trouble. Most of the Courier’s rode horseback or on bicycles; others went on their own two feet. This one, Malcolm decided, must be new. He wouldn’t last long if he continued to flaunt his presence that way.
The Courier pulled up into the parking lot and killed the engine, dismounting from his bike and toeing the kick-stand into place. He stepped to the back of the bike and opened the metal case strapped to the back, lifting out a bundle of papers and several sacks of what Malcolm hoped were supplies. He didn’t hope for much, though; the sacks were far too small.
Closing the lid to the case, the Courier made his way up the steps and grinned at Malcolm.
“Fine evening, isn’t it? You’d be Sergeant Finnes?”
“I would,” Malcolm agreed. “And you are?”
Shifting the load of papers and sacks, the Courier stuck out his right hand. “Bennings, Richard Bennings. Late of Hood River, Oregon.”
Malcolm shook the proffered hand. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
Richard nodded. “This is my first delivery,” he said with no small amount of pride. “Made the trip in two days, too.”
Malcolm lifted an eyebrow at that. “Have any trouble on the way?” He turned and gestured for Richard to follow him inside the building.
Shrugging, Richard fell in step beside him. “Not too much. Hit a nest of Wights just north of Gresham, and I saw dragon-sign in Vancouver, on old interstate five, but no actual sighting of the beast, thankfully.”
Surprise made him stop. “Dragon-sign in Vancouver?” Malcolm asked, frowning. “That’s not good.” And too damn close to Elysium for any comfort at all.
Richard shrugged again. “Like I said, I didn’t actually see the dragon. Just tracks, and several of the buildings were burnt out, still smoking, actually.”
Malcolm resisted the urge to smack his forehead. The man just had no fucking clue. “You didn’t see any sign after Vancouver?” he asked grimly.
“Nope. In fact, it got pretty quiet afterwards until just before I reached you guys. Met one vampire, took her down. That was it.” All this was said with no small amount of confidence.
Malcolm swore, grabbing the courier by the arm and propelling him forcefully down the hall to his office. He gestured to one of the chairs. “Stay put. Don’t put so much as a toe outside this office,” he ordered harshly, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Richard dropped his burden on Malcolm’s desk and started to follow him. “Wait! What is it? What’s going on?”
Malcolm rounded on him furiously. “You are an idiot. How you managed to get from Hood River to Elysium without getting killed is beyond me.”
“Now wait a min-“
“However, you did manage, in all your blissful ignorance,” Malcolm continued, rolling right over the top of Richard’s protests, “to bring the dragon right to Elysium with you.”
“What?” Richard paled. “What?”
Malcolm took a deep breath, pushing his anger away and spoke coolly. “I don’t have time to explain all the whys and wherefores to you. Suffice it to say that you caught the attention of the dragon - it probably heard the motor on your bike and decided to follow. And the reason you didn’t run into hardly any other creatures the rest of the way here is that the dragon was following you, and anything with any sense at all had fled the area. One vampire? You should have hit at least three nests of them, as well as several packs of werewolves that regularly hunt that area.” He took another breath, dropping the volume of his voice another notch. “If we live through this night, I want to know who the hell trained you. Any courier with any sense knows not to attract attention like that.”
He didn’t wait for Richard’s reply, but left him standing there, gaping like a landed fish. If there was, as he feared, a dragon on its way to Elysium, there wasn’t much time to prepare.
In fact, there was no time at all.
October 31, 2107
Fort Elysium
The sun was falling rapidly from the sky when the cry went up at the outer gate.
“Courier!”
“About damn time,” Malcolm muttered. He blew the eraser dust from the piece of paper he’d just finished erasing and glanced gloomily at the worn end of his eraser. It was nearly gone, and their supply of pencils, like everything else in this godforsaken fort, was rapidly diminishing.
Pushing that thought aside for the moment, he rose from his desk and left his office. He walked rapidly down the hall, nodding to those he met on his way. He passed several other offices; men and women who helped do the dirty work of running the fort worked out of several. A few had been converted into school rooms for the children who called Fort Elysium home. The classrooms were empty now, the children had gone to supper hours ago and were no doubt preparing to go to bed in the most protected area of Elysium, the concrete bunkers in the very center of the base.
Fort Elysium was a new installation, built to replace Fort Lewis when the Tacoma area was lost to sea. Originally it had been named something else, but its original name was long forgotten. After the Rising, one of the survivors had named it Elysium as kind of a joke, and the name had stuck.
Malcolm knew how lucky they were to have what they had with the place. Despite the current peace they’d had with their fellow nations, the United States had not been lax in security and built accordingly. There were gates and towers and bunkers and all manner of things a body could want in the name of keeping out the unwanted. And now, with the creatures that hunted humans, day or night, it didn’t matter, it was one of the only truly safe places left in this part of Washington.
He passed through the main doors of the Administrative building and stopped on the concrete steps that led down to the parking lot below, waiting to meet the Courier. The only other people outside the safety of the bunkers and buildings were those on guard that night. Armed with weapons both modern and archaic, they stood watch over those within, ready to fight and kill whatever tried to come over the fence.
It was riskier at night. The dark made it harder for humans to see, and the creatures that hunted them had no such difficulty. Some creatures, werewolves - even now he had difficulty in calling them that, it seemed so absurd - hunted in packs or singularly, day or night. Other creatures, the vampires, hunted in smaller groups or as solitary hunters only at night. They were difficult to defend against, as they could bewitch and bespell humans fairly easily if they drew close enough. The trick was to stay on your toes, be aware, and kill the damned things before they got too close. But the worst of all were the dragons. It was only a small blessing that their numbers were the fewest of all the predators that hunted because they were damned nigh-impossible to kill, armored as they were with plates of scale from head to tail. There were other creatures as well, smaller, nameless things that attacked in swarms that could strip a man of his flesh in less than a minute; others that fed on whatever it was that made a man a man, his soul, if you wanted. They could suck it right out of the body and leave nothing behind but a mindless shell, no longer capable of caring for itself.
All of the creatures were hard to kill. The werewolves could be killed with silver, stakes or bullets, both worked effectively, though bullets were definitely the safer route. The vampires, on the other hand, could only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart followed by decapitation. Malcolm had seen vampires recover from simply being shot with a wooden crossbow bolt through the heart; it was rare, but it did happen. The only sure way was to take their heads. Dragons, however, were something else entirely. As yet, no one had figured out a truly effective way to kill them, or even drive one away. The best defense was to run, (and fast too, because the things were quick and agile, despite their immense size) and find someplace inflammable. And then hope that the dragon would leave in search of easier prey.
Malcolm shook his head, pushing his musings aside. He could hear the steady rumble of the Courier’s motorcycle drawing closer and he frowned. It was dangerous, cocky even, to ride openly on something that made that much noise. It was only asking for trouble. Most of the Courier’s rode horseback or on bicycles; others went on their own two feet. This one, Malcolm decided, must be new. He wouldn’t last long if he continued to flaunt his presence that way.
The Courier pulled up into the parking lot and killed the engine, dismounting from his bike and toeing the kick-stand into place. He stepped to the back of the bike and opened the metal case strapped to the back, lifting out a bundle of papers and several sacks of what Malcolm hoped were supplies. He didn’t hope for much, though; the sacks were far too small.
Closing the lid to the case, the Courier made his way up the steps and grinned at Malcolm.
“Fine evening, isn’t it? You’d be Sergeant Finnes?”
“I would,” Malcolm agreed. “And you are?”
Shifting the load of papers and sacks, the Courier stuck out his right hand. “Bennings, Richard Bennings. Late of Hood River, Oregon.”
Malcolm shook the proffered hand. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
Richard nodded. “This is my first delivery,” he said with no small amount of pride. “Made the trip in two days, too.”
Malcolm lifted an eyebrow at that. “Have any trouble on the way?” He turned and gestured for Richard to follow him inside the building.
Shrugging, Richard fell in step beside him. “Not too much. Hit a nest of Wights just north of Gresham, and I saw dragon-sign in Vancouver, on old interstate five, but no actual sighting of the beast, thankfully.”
Surprise made him stop. “Dragon-sign in Vancouver?” Malcolm asked, frowning. “That’s not good.” And too damn close to Elysium for any comfort at all.
Richard shrugged again. “Like I said, I didn’t actually see the dragon. Just tracks, and several of the buildings were burnt out, still smoking, actually.”
Malcolm resisted the urge to smack his forehead. The man just had no fucking clue. “You didn’t see any sign after Vancouver?” he asked grimly.
“Nope. In fact, it got pretty quiet afterwards until just before I reached you guys. Met one vampire, took her down. That was it.” All this was said with no small amount of confidence.
Malcolm swore, grabbing the courier by the arm and propelling him forcefully down the hall to his office. He gestured to one of the chairs. “Stay put. Don’t put so much as a toe outside this office,” he ordered harshly, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Richard dropped his burden on Malcolm’s desk and started to follow him. “Wait! What is it? What’s going on?”
Malcolm rounded on him furiously. “You are an idiot. How you managed to get from Hood River to Elysium without getting killed is beyond me.”
“Now wait a min-“
“However, you did manage, in all your blissful ignorance,” Malcolm continued, rolling right over the top of Richard’s protests, “to bring the dragon right to Elysium with you.”
“What?” Richard paled. “What?”
Malcolm took a deep breath, pushing his anger away and spoke coolly. “I don’t have time to explain all the whys and wherefores to you. Suffice it to say that you caught the attention of the dragon - it probably heard the motor on your bike and decided to follow. And the reason you didn’t run into hardly any other creatures the rest of the way here is that the dragon was following you, and anything with any sense at all had fled the area. One vampire? You should have hit at least three nests of them, as well as several packs of werewolves that regularly hunt that area.” He took another breath, dropping the volume of his voice another notch. “If we live through this night, I want to know who the hell trained you. Any courier with any sense knows not to attract attention like that.”
He didn’t wait for Richard’s reply, but left him standing there, gaping like a landed fish. If there was, as he feared, a dragon on its way to Elysium, there wasn’t much time to prepare.
In fact, there was no time at all.