Paul C. Middleton and Michael Anderle
EVACUATION
To you, The Fans
These stories
would not be nearly
so enjoyable to write
without your
enthusiasm!
The Amazing Beta Readers for The Boris Chronicles — Evacuation
Bree Buras — Our Aussie Lady
Dorene Johnson — Our kick-ass navy lady
Diane Velasquez — Our original Chinchilla lady who kicked off so much…
The Lady (Editor) who beat us into submission
(Ok, mostly Paul. Since Mike is writing this dedication, he gets to type whatever the hell he wants. He (I) bets this doesn’t happen again).
Kat Lind
Thank you to the following Special Consultants for The Boris Chronicles — Evacuation
Nikolaus Beattie — Australian Army
Jeff Morris — US Army
Both men supported questions for “Things that go ‘Boom’”
TQB Base Colorado — USA
Michael had been right. Hitting these cowards from the rear was fun. More fun than Boris had enjoyed in years.
The merc at ‘tail-end Charlie’ sensed something coming up from the back of the group and turned to fire at whatever that was behind him.
In his momentary shock at seeing what looked like a standing bear, Boris grasped the barrel of his rifle in one of his pawed hands and wrenched. Pulling the mercenary toward him. Boris impaled the man with his free hand, slung the rapidly-dying man off to the side, and dropped the gun.
It’s killing time.
Death on two legs advanced with determination. Boris planned to kill the mercenaries attacking the base as they came within his range. His powerful legs propelling him forward, the mercs found that it was difficult to hit him without shooting a teammate since the men were tightly grouped. They were finding out how deceptive the speed of a bear could be, while Boris’s movement was even quicker than that of a normal animal. Most humans who saw Boris had but a few seconds of shock before they had to react or die.
The confusion he was causing must be helping the defenders ahead. Boris was glad to be helping Michael, glad that the svolic he had been working for would get their comeuppance.
Send him to kill children would they? Especially children under Michael’s protection or this woman who had finally captured his attention. If he had time, he’d offer his services to help hunt them down.
His roar of joy reverberated down the narrow confines of the hallways. The pain of his constant headache was overcome with the chemical cocktail that saturated his body in this shape. The fear of those in front of him was a scent that exhilarated his ferocity and crammed him with a wicked cocktail of both rage and relief.
Then, suddenly, his ability to constrain his actions while in this form was lost when a bullet fired from someone in front glanced off his skull and the headache he had been suffering overcame everything.
In his pain, he lost it. Lost control, lost his mind, lost his humanity and ability to think.
The headache flared, and he roared in maddened anger, charging forward through the squad. Sending bodies, arms, heads, and legs flying to bounce against the walls, the blood of the dead splashed high to coat the rock walls with a picture of life passing.
He reached the one that had shot him and ripped his attacker’s head from his body.
Standing on his back feet, he roared in anger at the decapitated head and crushed the skull with his paws in revenge.
There was a cresting wave of pain as he felt himself shifting back to human form. Slowly, he dropped to the ground and fell into unconsciousness surrounded by a bed of bloody body parts.
* * *
Eric and a handful of the new Queen’s Guardians were doing a sweep of the corridors to confirm that all the attackers had been killed, and none were hiding.
He and the small team of Guardians turned a corner to see a scene of destruction and death. Walls splashed in blood, bodies torn in half. Flesh, blood, and parts were everywhere.
Eric was impressed. This hallway might qualify as being as bloody a mess as Bethany Anne had left in Costa Rica that time she went berserk.
Eric could hear one Guardian at the back throwing up. Their noses had told them what to expect, but the visual impact was something else. Some stomachs and people would never be the same. Never enough mind bleach to clean up this kind of memory.
Eric noticed one whole body in the mess. It was a large man, bearded and partially nude. He had blood seeping from his eyes and dripping from his ears, clothes torn but no significant wounds. The lead Guardian paused at the body and knelt down to touch the neck, “This one’s alive boss… and he’s a bear!” He turned to look at Eric, a question on his face.
Eric stepped over and looked closer, “Shit. That’s Boris. He helped Michael get the kids back and warned us about the nuke.”
Eric paused for a moment to consider before reaching up to his shoulder and clicking on his radio, “Lance, it’s Eric. Do you think you and TOM can ask Bethany Anne if we can put Boris in the medical pod? It looks like Michael’s support is severely injured, and I’m for giving him whatever it takes to help him all things considered.”
Lance responded immediately. “ADAM is already spoofing the satellites and Bethany Anne agrees. It might be nice to salvage something out of all this shit.”
Back on the Polarus, Bethany Anne had told TOM to shut her feelings down. She was still hurting, deeply, but could not take the time she needed to really feel those emotions now.
Later, later, she would take the time.
They still had to sort out a lot of things on the base and ships. She turned to Stephen and asked, “So what do you know about Boris?”
Stephen paused and then shrugged “I haven’t heard much recently about him. Honestly, I hadn’t considered much about the Russian situation with all of the other issues we have been fighting. I was there when Boris challenged Michael. So was Peter, one of our original brethren.” His vision clouded briefly in grief.
Stephen continued his commentary as he bit down on his own hurt, “He was trying to prove himself to his Pack leader more than anything. I consider him an honorable leader for his people. He leads them and continues to protect those sworn to him. Peter, our late brother, mentioned that he preferred having Boris deal with Nosferatu problems and the younger Forsaken. With Boris, it’s all professional and very little emotion. Some of Peter’s other people would try to do a rush job to impress, and fail to get the little details accomplished.”
Stephen sighed, “He is also the only Pricolici I know of who managed to master the change for more than a century without succumbing to the temptation and madness. I warned him of the danger, and he apparently listened. When I last asked Peter, he admitted ‘that’s why I still need to use others. Four years in five I can call on him’. I suspect that is why he took mercenary work. Staying in his human form may be an asset to controlling the mixed shape for him.”
He shrugged “When he gets out of the pod we should ask him.”
“What about the people, the town, he protects. Do you know what that is all about?” Bethany Anne asked.
Stephen said, “Yes, but it would be better if you can wait and let him tell his own story on that.” Bethany Anne nodded her acceptance.
“I’m going to go pick him up,” she told Stephen, starting to walk toward her suite, “Please ask the captain to announce over the speakers that Ashur needs to meet me there.”
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