Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

Another guard wandered near. Nina gave him her blade too, eviscerating the alien with the point of her weapon plunging into his gut and tearing to the base of his throat. More blood splattered on her. Another pair of dead eyes locked on Nina Forest.

She hurried to secure the holding pen. Two warriors spied her approach and raised bows.

Nina dropped the knife but did not have time to un-sling her rifle. Instead, she speedily drew her nine-millimeter pistol and slew both before they could launch arrows.

The rest of the assault team, including K9s, attacked.

A warrior ran at Nina from behind, his hatchet poised for the kill while her attention focused forward as her pistol sought targets at the center of camp. Odin pounced, knocking the Red Hand and his hatchet to the ground where canine teeth did their painful work.

A tribesman raced out from a shelter.

Nina pulled the trigger. An empty shell casing discharged from the ejector port and a new round loaded.

An elderly female staggered into the morning gloom struggling to put on an animal skin.

A bullet from Nina’s gun found her.

Her marksman’s eyes did not distinguish targets; it only found them. Hostile or friendly with no ground between.

Another empty casing dropped to the mud.

The trigger pulled again. A younger victim fell.

The trigger pulled again. And again.

The bullets found the back of a fleeing female running for the wilderness.

Another shot. And another still…

…The butt of Nina’s rifle smashed the latch and the pen gate swung open. A terrified woman huddled with her young child on the ground inside the jail. Nina extended her hand.

"It’s okay. I’m human, like you."

They flinched from her reach.

Nina did not know why they would do that. She wanted to rescue them; to let them fall into her arms and see her as their liberator. She wanted to comfort them and tell them that everything would be okay now.

Then Nina saw her own outstretched hand; a hand soaked in crimson blood. The blood of her enemies. The blood of her victims.

Her hands…her face…her body covered in the gore of those she slaughtered.

Bear gently grabbed Nina’s shoulders and moved her aside so that he, Washburn, and McBride could evacuate the slaves. Nina staggered away with her eyes wide open in wonder.

The Grenadiers raced across the scene hunting for stragglers, but the assault team had done a thorough job. Nothing remained of the tribe.

She stopped at the rim of a large puddle. Behind her, the others comforted and led away the emancipated slaves.

Nina felt a light tap on her forehead.

Her eyelids fluttered as raindrops began to fall. She could hear the tip-tip-tip of sprinkles splashing the ground among the empty buildings and carnage of the now-dead colony.

Nina stared at her arms. The rain drenched her skin but instead of washing away the mess, her arms seemingly grew redder.

She collapsed to a knee. Her knees splashed in the puddle. She could not pull her eyes from her gore-covered hands as the rain intensified to a downpour.

The blood clung to her.

Is this all there is? Is there nothing more?

"Come in my friend," Omar welcomed Trevor inside with a big fake smile.

Omar's workshop was once a climate-controlled garage on the southeast side of the lake. Workbenches, cabinets, and tools cluttered the place now instead of Ferraris. A mix of smells ranging from acidic to fishy floated in the air. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling.

"And what is it I can do for Mr. Trevor today?"

"Just checking up on things."

Omar responded with his typical sarcasm and overdone accent. "Oh how splendid! Thank you for checking up on things over here right now with me."

Several days had elapsed since Nina eliminated the Red Hands from northeastern Pennsylvania. Trevor's attention turned from revenge to the future. The goodies in Omar's work shop would be a key part of that future: four Mutant hover bikes, twelve platypus rifles as well as a quantity of those same aliens’ glowing ping-pong-ball grenades, and a variety of other gizmos that lacked labels, definitions, or any modicum of understanding.

Trevor motioned around the garage and asked, "Tell me, what do you need to better understand these things? I mean, we have to be able to adapt some of this stuff some how."

Omar lit a smoke with a match. He waved the fire out then dropped the match to the floor, despite the highly explosive materials nearby.

"I would be needing more time and more people."

Trevor wondered how much time they had before something particularly nasty found them. As for manpower, he did not need to explain the difficulty in finding highly skilled engineers, technicians, and researchers.

"Well then, you get to work, don’t let me stop you."

Trevor patted Omar’s shoulder and headed for the exit.

"How inspiring! I shall endeavor to work with twice the haste."

– Lori Brewer filled the trough with dog food. Hungry K9s hurried across the barn and dove their snouts in. One Rottweiler ignored the food and stood close to her.

"Oh, what a good little doggie you are," she scratched his head knowing that this ‘good little doggie’ had probably mauled, torn, or otherwise disemboweled its share of creatures.

Nina Forest walked by the open barn doors. Her steps crunched on the drying red and gold petals falling all around the estate; their syrupy smell of decay drifted in the air.

She saw Lori, stopped, and took a tentative step inside the barn.

"Hey," Nina meekly greeted.

Lori suppressed her surprise over Nina instigating a conversation and said, "Hi. Have you met this good little doggie? He’s such a good little doggie."

" Doggie? Trevor wouldn’t approve."

"Oh, screw him," Lori laughed.

Nina almost- almost — smiled.

"So whatchya up to? Target practice?" Lori guessed based on the collection of rifles and pistols slung and strapped to her person.

"Got to stay sharp, you know?"

"Sure," Lori nodded.

Nina said, "Thank you."

"Huh?"

Nina tapped her head recalling the gesture Lori made the first time they had spoke. "For fixing me up after they found me. You’re right; there are some words I have trouble with."

Lori contained her shock as best she could.

"You’re welcome."

After several seconds of awkward silence, Nina stepped away.

"You did a heck of job taking out those camps I hear," Lori's words stopped Nina.

"Oh. That. Yeah. Nothing to it. Hey, it’s my skill, right?"

"I also heard how Trevor treated you when he sent you off. He was being a jerk."

Nina said, "Your husband tells you a lot, huh?"

"Sure. It’s what friends do. They tell each other things. If you don’t talk to someone things can really eat you up inside. That doesn’t do anyone any good."

"I suppose so," Nina paused, considered, then observed, "You and Jon, you seem to get along real good."

Lori chuckled. "Get along real good? Well, I suppose I make him realize he can be an asshole. He makes me realize I can be a stubborn, nosey bitch. It evens out."

"Nice fit, I guess," Nina sort of smiled.

"What about you, Nina? How did you end up with the police? Where are you from?"

The quick questions staggered the girl.

"See-nosey bitch. Guess my husband is right."

Nina shrugged.

"I grew up in Kutztown. My parents worked at the University there. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"And here I thought you were a city girl."

"Not me, no. Not until I signed on to the Philly PD."

"See that," Lori said, "look at the things we find out just by talking."

"I guess. Say, you’ve known Trevor for a long time. What was he like before all this?"