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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/679209-Chapter-12
Rated: 18+ · Book · Military · #1625172
This is the book version of my Army of Humans and Monsters
#679209 added February 10, 2012 at 9:51pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 12
Sometime later, Jenkins made his way to were the recruits sleeping area, where he found a bed, and fell asleep instantly.

However, just when he was chasing the elusive, and naked, human form of Bloodtooth, the sound of a bugle playing loudly, and quickly, jarred him into full consciousness.

“What in the hell is that?” he asked, with a shout, covering his ears, when he saw Bloodtooth sitting on the bed next to him.

“That would be the Quartermaster playing Reverie,” she said, with a smile on her face, in a voice that sounded more like that of a woman, compared to the previous day.

“Well what ever it is, the guy’s awful,” Jenkins said, as he tried to put his pillow in his ears.

“Well, the guy does play off-tune somewhat,” Bloodtooth said, as she looked out the window, to watch the rising sun. “However, for a zombie, who can’t get any oxygen into his lungs, he does give it a pretty good effort every time. Besides, it is time for you to get up anyways.”

“But I just fell asleep.” (Jenkins)

“Well, considering that you fell asleep before lunch, had supper at twenty-three hundred, that’s eleven P.M. for civilians, fell asleep at zero hundred, or midnight, and got up just now, I’d say that you’ve had more sleep than me, because I went to bed at two hundred, or two o’clock, and woke up at four hundred thirty, that’s four thirty in civilian time. That’s two and a half hours worth of sleep for me kid. You had well over ten hours worth, so I don’t want to hear you complaining about being tired when you’ve had four times as much sleep as me, and I’m ready to fight a platoon of giants. Now, get up, get some clothes, take a shower, get dressed, and get some breakfast in you. Today will be the longest day of your life.” (Bloodtooth)

“And here I thought yesterday was the longest day of my life,” Jenkins said, with a groan, as he got up.

“Yah, but yesterday you didn’t really do a thing. Now hurry up, I’ll be at the Mess Hall when you are done showering and dressed,” Bloodtooth said, as she left, with a strange smile on her face.

Less then thirty minutes later, Jenkins was in the Mess Hall, getting his breakfast, when he noticed that every officer had a sidearm, of some strange design, on their waist, and a gas mask next to them.

“What’s going on?” he asked, when he sat between Bloodtooth and Wolfblood to eat.

“Sometimes the recruits are a little impatient when it comes to getting their breakfast during the first few days,” Wolfblood said, sipping away at a cup of blood.

“That is why every officer carries a tranquilizer pistol, to handle things if there is only a few who try to disrupt things. If the majority of them are disruptive, we have knockout gas that takes care of all of them. Either way, the person will either be extremely drowsy, or fall asleep, preventing them from causing much trouble for a few hours. When they wake up, or recover from the effects, they will suffer a long dressing down from their guiding officer, much like I am to you kid,” Bloodtooth said, as she looked at Jenkins, as she cut at a, relatively, lightly cooked piece of meat, that had some blood on it.

“I noticed that your voice sounds much better today,” Jenkins said, as he ate some scrambled eggs, trying not to be squeamish at the sight of blood on the officer’s plate.

“It is much better,” she said, as she noticed his reaction to the blood on her meal.

“You know, you don’t have to sit next to me if you feel uncomfortable,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just that, given what happened yesterday at that restaurant, it reminded me of the day that my family was murdered, all of that blood, it brought back memories that I’d rather keep buried.”

“Every soldier goes through something like that,” Wolfblood said, as he finished his cup of blood, “Especially if they were a human who was brought back as a zombie or, in my case, a vampire. I remember when I had to feed from my first living, and willing, meal, as it were, and not a pouch or a cup. It was a human officer, a female, who was helping out newly turned vampires, so that they could control their urge, to drink only as much blood as they needed. Well, as much as I knew that I needed to feed, as I hadn’t been given any blood to drink, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, because she looked a lot like my daughter could potentially look like, when she becomes an adult. Her hair, her eyes, even her voice, they were all similar to her. However, there was something about the way that she reassured me, in how her own brother had gone through it, that gave me the confidence to drink some of her blood, from her wrist mind you, not the neck, as I was not sure how to drink at that vein without causing someone to potentially bleed to death, until later during my training. Well, unlike most vampires with their first living meal, I showed a decent level of control over myself, and only drank, at most, three cups of blood from her. Others would have gone for the neck and drank her dry. However, given how I knew what it was like to die, and be brought back, as I had died a few times prior to being brought back as a vampire, I didn’t want her to go through that, so, I drank enough to satisfy my thirst, and no more. After a while, I became comfortable with what I had become, and I had no problems drinking from every vein in the body, without causing the other to bleed to death, including the neck, though I try to drink only from the wrist unless otherwise, like when I had to drink the blood of those people yesterday, so they wouldn’t fight me when I was in that kitchen.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, what happened after the explosion? I can’t remember a thing besides falling into your arms.” (Jenkins)

“Well, after you fell unconscious, we put you into the shrink bag,” Bloodtooth said, as she finished up her first plate and got up to get another.

“Shrink bag?” (Jenkins)

“It’s like a mage’s pouch,” Wolfblood said, as he got one out of his pocket. “Whatever you put in it will shrink to the size of a grain of rice, whether it is weapons, food, medical supplies, or even, wounded soldiers and prisoners, both those you free from the enemy, and those enemy soldiers that you have captured. The bag protects anything in it from harm, in any shape or form, including stomach acids even. Of course, if you decide to swallow the bag for safekeeping, you best secure this string here to one of your back teeth, otherwise your stomach will have to be purged, in one manner or another, unless of course you decide to wait it out, and have it come out when you go use the latrine. Although, any way that you look at it, being inside of a bag, even when it is not inside of someone, is not a fun way to travel, because, even though you can’t see or hear anything, just in case the person is going someplace classified, and has to use a password to enter the place, you still have your sense of smell to give you information, like if you are near the ocean, in a wetland forest, a dry desert, or in someone’s stomach, or bowels. Trust me when I say that while I prefer to not travel in that fashion, it is still the safest way to travel in hostile territory.”

Then Jenkins asked, “So, what happened to the rest, those bought by that place, and the children that we took from those patrons?”


(The following is Wolfblood speaking)
“Well, much like you, they too were placed under a dream spell, only instead of having to deal with sick and twisted instructors, those of enlisting age are basically taking a peaceful vacation, until they recover enough to be allowed to wake up, where they can choose to go back to being a civilian, or join the military. Those under the recruitment age are basically going through school, and their normal daily lives, only everyone is the same race as them, until they also recover enough to wake up, where we find a good home for them, preferable one under the protection of the military, or one of the officers themselves will take care of them. As for the really young ones, well, if they are still being breastfeed, some of the younger female officers will volunteer to be mothers, as it were, and the medic-mages, wizards, witches, or whatever they are called, will cast some spell on them that will cause them to lactate and produce milk for the child. When they don’t need to be breastfeed anymore, the medics will remove the spell from them, as it can last for about three years at least, and at that point, the officer may adopt the child as their own, or let one of their family members care for it. As for those we took from those patrons, we make their parents sign a contract, if they want to have their child back. Basically, if they, or their child, eat someone under the age of recruitment, they will have to choose between being drafted into the service, or having their child being claimed as military property.”

“Are you serious about that?” (Jenkins)

“Very, even if the civilian population disregards the potential ramifications of the taking of the life of others, claiming it as a necessity for survival, the military sees all life as important, no matter what. You could be a homeless bum, a runaway slave, a powerful politician, or the leader of the country, your life still holds some sort of value, if only to yourself. That is why the military does what it can to recruit those who have no real choices in life, like the homeless, people in prison, or those about to become someone’s meal, especially those who are humans. The rest range from school or collage dropouts, those who honestly want a career in the military, the lesser offspring of the wealthy, people seeking a challenge and adventure, those who are society’s outcasts, like those born of two different non-humans, much like what Tiny is, and those who really don’t see any other alternatives, for whatever reason. We take all of them, help them finish school or collage if need be, and train them to look out for each other, and help others out when the need arises, and, if need be, to fight for what is right for others.” (Wolfblood)

“What do you mean by that?” (Jenkins)

“Those of us in the military don’t just fight for the Constitution, you should know. We fight for the day that a giant will see a human trying to cross a very busy street and will pick him up, not to eat him, but to set him on the other side so that he can continue on his way. We fight for the day that a wizard, a mage, or whatever, will look at their human brethren, and embrace them as family. We fight for the day that a child can go to school, and his parents won’t have to worry that he may get eaten, or that he won’t have parents when he comes home. We fight for the day that stockyards are replaced with orphanages and fostering houses. We fight for the day that one person of one race will see a person of another, and see them as equals, instead of as potential prey or a potential predator. That, my dear Uniter, is what we in the military fight for.” (Wolfblood)

“All of that, just because of what my great-grandfather did nearly a century ago.” (Jenkins)

“Yep, all of it, and we won’t stop until his dream becomes true for everyone.” (Wolfblood)
© Copyright 2012 BIG BAD WOLF is hopping (UN: alockwood1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/679209-Chapter-12