Lambs to the Slaughter

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Run from the Gun.

When the CRACK of the .50 caliber split the air, the Angry Veteran just happened to be looking at Spacefarmer; his usual look of derision suddenly changed to shock as the exit wound sprayed blood and organ all over poor Just Me. The spray of the exit wound went South, so the gunner must be north. Before he had consciously processed this information, AV was already in a full sprint to the South. The picnic was being held in a clearing with a tree line about 1500 meters to the north and about 1000 meters to the south.

One thousand meters - one klick. His only chance to survive was to run that one klick before the gunner could take him down. He ran a full sprint, bent at the waist to reduce his silhouette and keep from exposing his head. Just make it to the tree line. Even if he was injured, most body shots, with today’s technology, won't be fatal - just avoid the headshot. Get to the tree line without a headshot; then make it back to that logging road and call for help.

While everyone else panicked, Dr. Murk laughed out loud and began slowly walking to the northern tree line. He adjusted his hat and stroked his beard as he ambled forward. "Yes! Yes! That is the way my sweet little honey bear! Kill them if you can! Kill them all! YES! ALL!"

CRACK, slickslick

A second shot rung out. Pooh loved that smell; the smell of gunpowder. The smell of the first round that burns off the ever so light coat of oil that maintains the barrel in storage. The sound of a perfectly cared for bolt sliding in its tray. The feel of the bolt handle in his paw, pulling back and pushing forward with just the right amount of steady resistance. "Ahhhhh. So smooth. Do you see, Piglet, how they run just like mice? Except slower and with so much noise. Now you know why our home is such a peaceful and wonderful place. None of them. No Bloggers."

Choas Dragoon lay lifeless next to SpaceFarmer; their massive exit wounds played silent tribute to the power of the rifle and the marksmanship of the Pooh Bear.

CRACK, slickslick

AV was running at a full sprint. "Don't bring your shield, they said. It's going to be a nice friendly picnic, they said. Come and just relax and enjoy the party, they said. No one will ask you to read a book, they said." Luckily, he heard the third shot, so he knew it didn't hit him. Well, he knew it didn't kill him, anyway.

Just Me and Toyi had made the awful mistake of trying to help their two fallen fellow contributors. They had both rushed over and tried to stop the bleeding, but no application of pressure is going to help when your heart has been shot out of your chest. Both of them now lie lifeless on the comrades they were trying to save.

"Two-fer!" Pooh exclaimed as he looked up from the scope and reloaded. He turned and explained to Piglet; "I got two of them with one shot! They just lined themselves right up on top of the first two. Tell me this isn't more fun than PoohSticks!"

Pooh settled back down and lined up his next shot. He had a dead bead on the back of some oblivious fool, but before he could squeeze the trigger a skirt came into his view. Piglet saw Pooh snap his own neck back and vomit over the right side of the rifle stock. That had been no skirt; it was a kilt. And when the wind lifted it up and filled the scope with its awful contents, even the battle scarred Pooh could not keep his hunny down.

Wiping the bile from his lips, Pooh returned his focus. “That will leave a mental scar” he murmured to himself.

CRACK, slickslick

Malach’s exposed buttocks went limp as he fell onto the vinyl mat. A pool of blood slowly poured out off the shiny polystyrene and into the thirsty prairie grass. The grass would be well watered today.

CRACK

Hojo now had a posthumous appreciation for the quality of Canadian military equipment. Pooh, however, knew that his 5 round magazine was empty and it was time to reload. In a smooth, easy motion, Pooh slid the release with his right paw and pulled the empty clip out with his left paw. A fresh clip was taped upside down to the spent one, so he simply turned it upside down and pushed the fresh clip back up into the LRSW. 5 more rounds of AMAX Match .50 cal was ready to go.

slickslick

“We believe the sniper is over there,” the Helpful Critic pointed out.

CRACK, slickslick

CRACK, slickslick

“It’s not polite to point,” Pooh cautioned as the Helpful Critic was sprayed across the lawn chairs they had brought.

“I can’t see anything much from here” said Piglet. “All I can see are the ones up and the ones down” Piglet announced with a frown. “Look in the box – you’ll see a little scope, like this one, but on a small tripod; go ahead and take it out. It’s a spotter’s scope – you’ll like it. And while you’re in there, be a great friend and get me some more of these double taped magazines. The ones with the blue tape, not the red tape.”

CRACK, slickslick

Otis Serungis said about as much in death as he did in life.

CRACK, slickslick

“What, I thought I already did this guy?” Captain Flak Paperpants lost his head for the final time.

CRACK

Dr. Jen would find no pill to cure this ill. Someone else would be picking up a shift at the Pharmacy this week.

Piglet handed Pooh a fresh double magazine and it was loaded while Piglet set up his spotter’s scope.

slickslick

“Oh! I see! I SEE!” squealed Piglet. “LOOK! There is a big green shiny one that’s almost made it to the trees! Pooh – what’s this little red number in the corner?”

“The spotter scope has a built in laser range finder. That number is the distance in meters to the target. What number on the green one?”

“It says 1230, wait, 1240, wait, 1250…”

“Got it.”

CRACK, slickslick

Dr. Mantodea, well, this currently inhabited clone body, exploded like a water balloon full of jello. He was going to be pissed when he woke up in clone body 12 back in the lab.

“YES! NICE shot! Well placed!” shouted Dr. Murk as he looked back and admired the scene of mass slaughter – especially the spectacular shot on Mantodea. “What are you doing?!” Angry Piper yelled out; his mind finally clear of the alcoholic haze.

“Exactly what I want to be doing. You have escaped one of my death traps for the last time.” Dr. Murk tilted his head ever so slightly in the AP’s direction and gave, what the AP thought, was a slight bow. The full realization of what was happening, and who was responsible, hit the Angry Piper the same time the bullet did.

CRACK, slickslick

Murk watched as a mixture of blood and Guinness poured from Piper’s belly. A look of disbelief, and then shock washed over Piper’s face as he dropped to his knees. He reached both his hands out, as if to try to strangle Murk, but the vision of Murk became blurry, faded, and then black. The Piper was no more.

Dr. Murk’s laughter could be heard in between the authoritative CRACK of gunfire and the sickly slickslick sound of a bolt sliding back and forth over the next few minutes as Crumb, Fury, Shimmer Love, YPG, AutoC, and Palmer all fell to the deadly aim of Winnie the Pooh. One could hear the small, precious voice of Piglet calling out directions and ranges as the last of the contributors left in the field were cut down.

Vultures began to circle high in the sky as Dr. Murk approached the grassy knoll where Pooh and Piglet lay. Piglet was picking up the large brass casings and diligently stacking them in the box. Pooh would be hand packing fresh rounds tonight.

“Well done my hunny suckle friend! Well done! I am not one who is easily impressed, but you, sir, have the brilliance of a true master. You are an artist, and I, a well satisfied patron.”

“Blood makes the grass grow,” Pooh said as he brushed off his shirt and stood up. “But it doesn’t pay the bills. The bounty is as we discussed.”

“Oh yes, and worth every drop” Murk assured him; and handed him a key.

The logging road was desolate, the vehicles of the contributors all there, empty, right where they were left. But there was one delivery truck there that wasn’t there before. The Angry Veteran approached it, looking for traps. Satisfied that there were none, he went around back and saw the back doors were padlocked.

Then, the AV noticed something else. Quiet. The gunshots had stopped. He quickly went over to his star spangled red, white, and blue Harley Davidson and reached into the saddlebag. There, by the compass, was his crowbar.

Popping the padlock off, AV unlatched the cargo doors and swung them open. The cargo hold of the delivery truck was full of clay jars marked “Hunny” with one of the “N’s” written backward.

“MURK!” AV screamed to no one who could hear.

AV waited and sure enough, Dr. Murk came into the clearing of the logging road.

“I see you enjoyed our little picnic more than everyone else” Murk said with a grin and tone of self congratulation.

“You are a sick, sick man. You almost got me killed back there – what the hell was that all about?”

“They all began to bore me. Their posts, they did not please me. I have assembled a new crew of contributors. For consistency sake, I shall assign the internet personas of all the dead contributors to this new crew. To the casual reader of the WoW, there will be no disruption. It was just a long needed pruning, old boy.”

“What about me? You almost got me killed!”

“Well, we both know, if you aren’t fit enough to survive one little sniper ambush, you certainly aren’t worth the payroll, are you. The contract specifically states that I may test you at any time without warning.”

“You just make sure the checks keep coming.” AV was about to continue, when he heard the soft “whopwhopwhop” of a low flying helicopter in the distance.

“Another test” AV asked.

“Oh no!” Murk chuckled; this is our ride home. “You don’t’ think I’m actually going to sit through an entire drive all the way home, do you. Please.”

Sure enough, a small black helicopter landed in the clearing. “You take too long, fat man!” Mrs. Dr. Murk screamed over the whirling rotor blades and motioned for the both of them to get in. Murk strapped himself into the co-pilot seat and AV took his position on the door gun.

A cooler full of Diet Coke and Coke Blak was tied down to the floor, and slices of apple pie were ready to eat.

"I love pie," Murk smiled through a mouth full of crust and baked fruit.