Chapter 87: Sidetrack: Crawl
Damian.
Gerald's View Subdivision, Axe Central City Borders
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The doorless house was two floors up, about six hundred square meters in floor area, with concrete floors, walls, ceilings, high vertical windows on each side, supposedly filled with transparent glass, and bathed with various forms of destruction.
They went inside all ten of them. Damian's flashlight scanned on the ceiling where bats supposedly hide. But it was nighttime, probably they went out for a hunt, he thought.
The beams of their flashlights gleamed through floating particles of dust. There was occasional furniture inside but what was left were the destroyed ones. A coffee table, wood-carved, was turned upside down on the other end, and an occasional bench with incomplete legs on one corner.
All functional furniture were stolen by citizens, or the Outsiders and what was left were the remnants of the past before the Nuclear World War. Not to mention the heaving cobwebs mantled the floor's entirety, thick threaded strands comprised these cobwebs.
"Do you see bats?" Jefferson asked as he let his team spread out inside the first floor. The wounded were led down to a wall, Joe strapped a cloth to Flint's bleeding thigh. The third one wrapped his sprained ankle with an elastic bandage and covered his bleeding head with a strip of cloth. George looked out outside through the door they went into.
"No bats in here, boss," Damian answered.
"How do you know?"
"No feces on the floor. Bats tend to shit a lot and it will show on the floors. Piles of them. So, I think we are good."
"We need to be sure. Let's check the second floor," Jefferson asked the other two able bodies up the stairs. "Damian, you have been here before, so take the lead."
Damian agreed and carefully ambled to the stairs with two rebel comrades following him. Jefferson stayed with the wounded on the first floor. George still scouting the external grounds for any apparent danger with his night vision scope.
As the scouting team arrived at the second floor, one comrade asked, "These bats. Are they really that scary?" He was in his mid-twenties, named by many by his family name – Dudley. Damian had forgotten his first name.
"I don't know about you, but they scare the shit outta me. Their wing spans are about one and a half meter long, fangs taller than your fingers, and claws like eagle on their feet. And they will swarm you like you are a Christmas buffet; they will eat your flesh in seconds, leaving your bones shiny."
"Shit. Really. I mean, we have to make sure this house is bat-free," Dudley responded.
They entered the doorless rooms, five of them, connected to a wide alleyway, for any evidence of Abominant. Luckily there was none. Only a mantle of dust, large wall cracks, concrete debris on the floor, and serious amount of cobwebs.
"Just like we left it," Damian sighed after scouring every inch of the second floor.
They went down the stairs and saw Jefferson, George, and one other comrade, lift the wooden furniture and pile them on the entrance door. Joe took out some mefenamic capsules from his knapsack and gave it to the three wounded men.
Joe wanted the idea of becoming a medic, he had been telling Damian and George about it. Maybe it was innate in him like he tended the farm too. The idea of it, growing something, or healing something, somehow had found his passion.
Joe took out his vital scanner from his bag. It was like a handgun with a trigger button and its rear had a digital display screen. On its nozzle was a laser sensor to register the scanned human body's condition.
He scanned them one by one. The scanner would identify any hidden wounds, contusions, bruises, and even fever.
"Finish sweeping, boss. I think we're fine." Damian said.
"We settled here for the night. And men, if you have not noticed, change your damn clothes if you have extras. We are soaked with shit." Jefferson said.
Unfortunately, not one of them had brought extra clothes.
Damian checked his holographic watch on his wrist. It said 2200 H. Eight hours of sleep was sufficient to recuperate their strengths and let the wounded rest and heal.
"Gather around, let's check inventory," Jefferson commanded.
The able bodies gathered all seven of them at the center of the living room. Damian dusted off the top of the coffee table as they encircled it.
Each one of them took out their weapons holstered in their bodies, including knives, and the contents of their backpacks. Joe took the weapons of the wounded, too, and brought it together on the coffee table.
"First of all, you smell like…" Jefferson said and everyone chuckled softly.
"So, we have here three automatic rifles, ten handguns, seven extra rifle mags, forty handgun mags, two poison bombs, two electric stun bombs, ten hunting knives, ten MREs, some meds, and some TEUs." Jefferson counted all the items on the coffee table with his flashlight.
"Because of our detour, we move early tomorrow at six and reach the prison before noon." Jefferson continued. "We make a fort here if Abominants are attracted to our smell."
"I think we are on a clear, boss," George said. "Our smell right now masks any human smell that we have."
"He's right," Damian interjected. "But our smell will wear off for a few hours. That's when we will have a problem. This place is not yet cleaned by the Outsiders. Let's hope that no creature nested here."
"Yeah, when that happens, let's conserve our ammo. We have to be prepared in the morning."
Everyone nodded.
"We have to take turns every four hours, somebody would watch the door for any danger outside," Jefferson added. He chose George and three others to do guard duty first while the fortunate others would sleep for four hours.
Damian was used to sleeping on cold concrete as they used to hide in tunnels when they were deployed. Hence, sleeping in an empty dusty house was an upgrade. He was worried about his comrades who had never been to wars and were used to sleeping comfortably with blankets and pillows.
Apparently, nobody cared about how they slept. As long as they could rest their eyes, then it was a small victory for them.
Jefferson lowered himself near the staircase, his back leaning against the wall with his rifle on his side. Likewise, Damian had his rifle beside him, too. Soldiers do not leave their weapons beyond their reach during an active war.
Eventually, because each of them possessed an appalling smell, hence, they slept in far corners. While George and three others heaved the barricaded doorless entrance with their rifles on them.
Then, there was total darkness as Jefferson ordered all flashlights to turn off. A faint grayish and dusty light shyly made its way through the barricaded vertical windows.
The carrying, the running, even the driving, had caused Damian to exhaust his energy, making him sleep almost instantly. Then he slept. Finally.
***
The banging of furniture had waked Damian. It was still pitch black. There was a soft ruckus, ominous sudden sounds emerged then total silence again, then appearing once again. Murmurs grew from his comrades, unseen by their naked eyes.
Damian was worried about the sound, a horrendous clicking sound of bones or teeth came from up the ceiling. A sudden thud of large mass surprised everyone and the beams of flashlights were turned on, randomly looking for the sound's source. Damian hurriedly found his hands on his rifle beside him.
'This is not good,' Damian thought. He maintained his silence. Something, his instincts maybe, urged him to remain silent.
The flashlights beamed an oozing viscous translucent liquid dripping from the ceiling. The beams of their flashlights followed to where the liquid came from. Nobody said a word at first until their flashlight gleamed toward a gigantic grotesque hybrid of a spider and a moth, mounted its eight legs against the corner of the wall that meets the ceiling.
Its back holding the moth's brown translucent wings. Its legs had yellowish fur that would make any skin crawl, and below its six eyes gleamed a mouth full of fangs.
Below its pointy and elongated spinneret, hanging like a white bag was wrapped in thick milky cloth-like web. It was human.