THE LAST ONES-Containment Protocol, Part 4
Like they just ran outta gas... Fiction, 2000 words (10-minute read)
Thank you for the warm response to this on-going tale. I’ve gathered the installments together into a “Serial Fiction” section on my Substack page.
Find the rest of the Containment Protocol tale here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 3 (last episode), Part 5 (next episode)
THE LAST ONES-Containment Protocol, Part 4
by Ray Tabler
With the gate site and the charnel house of the truncated giant dinosaur, plus the new corpses, a half-mile in the rear-view mirror, Booker signaled Muñoz to listen up.
“Which way?” Booker wiped the dino blood off of his face as best he could with a rag.
Muñoz nodded and asked Nohfa, shouting the question in her ear. After a short back and forth, Muñoz pointed between two hills in the middle distance. Booker relayed the course correction to Rusty and the column of tanks followed across the prairie like a line of battle ships at sea.
Booker pulled a pair of binoculars from inside the turret and studied the path ahead. “How rough will it get in those hills?”
Muñoz shrugged. “What kind of slopes will the vehicles handle?”
Booker cast a critical eye about, then pointed. “Wouldn’t want to go straight up a grade more than that steep.” He shifted his finger to a gentler slope. “Or travel sideways along one worse than that one.”
“Worried about rolling over?”
“Damned right I am! No recovery vehicle to pull us out of trouble around here. While we’re at it, I want to avoid any streams more than a couple of feet deep. We can do deeper if need be. But, let’s not tempt fate.”
Muñoz consulted Nohfa once more, translating the additional constraints on their path. Nohfa laughed, shrugged, and replied with a smirk. Muñoz nodded and turned back to Booker.
“Just keep heading for that notch between the hills for now. She’ll let us know when to turn, and what direction.”
Nohfa scrambled forward on her hands and knees to perch at the front of the turret, legs astride Fred’s main gun. Rusty glanced up from the driver’s seat to find Nohfa’s moccasin-shod feet dangling above his head. Booker found the image of Nohfa forking Fred’s weapon disturbingly erotic. He twisted around to inspect the rest of his command. Everything looked to be under control for the moment. Without being told, the other tank commanders were reloading their machine guns. Good idea. Booker did so, as well.
“She seems to be taking all this in stride.” Booker commented to Muñoz, nodding at Nohfa’s muscular back. “Better than I would, if I were a caveman.”
“Her people are very resilient, Thay have to be to survive around here.”
“How do they survive? With all of these dinos roaming around.”
“That concentration back at the gate site is very unusual.” Muñoz glanced behind them. “The big ones, like the one chopped by the gate, there aren’t many of them around. When one dies, usually of old age, or trapped by an avalanche, The corpse will draw scavengers from far and wide.”
“How did you two manage to cross this country on foot? There had to be some of those dinos around.”
“Well, for one thing, Nohfa knows the country, and how to avoid the wildlife. This is her home. For another, we weren’t on foot.”
“What?”
“We were riding a swahldet. That’s a kind of dino Nohfa’s tribe has domesticated. Something like a hadrosaur. I looked it up while we were back at the complex.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“About thirty feet long. Can run on all fours, or stand on its back legs.” Muñoz wrinkled his nose. “They smell horrible.”
“You rode on one of these things?” Somehow, that struck Booker as more fantastic than interdimensional travel. “That’s like something out of a sci fi novel.”
Muñoz laughed. “Look around you, lieutenant. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re living in a sci fi novel”
“Ya got a point there. So, you two rode back here on a tame dino. You must’ve crossed this country on foot between when you transited the gate and when you found Nohfa and her people. That’s crazy.”
“Oh, that.” Muñoz shrugged. “It’s my job. I mean, scouting new country. I did that when I was in the Green Berets. Now, I’m a contractor, doing the same thing.”
“Still.”
“I’ll let you in on a trade secret, lieutenant. When I go on one of these missions, all I carry is some survival gear, a knife, and a revolver.”
“Get outta here!”
“Nah, honestly.” Muñoz held up a hand, as if swearing in on a witness stand. “My job is to sneak and peek, then report back. If I carried more, I might be tempted to go looking for trouble. And believe me, trouble can always be found, if you look hard enough.”
Booker looked skeptical. “You learn that in Green Beret training?”
“Actually, I read it in a sci fi novel. Only the author recommended not even packing a pistol. But, I’m not that brave.”
Muñoz winked, and both men laughed.
Cooper, the drone operator in Pebbles interrupted over the radio. “Lieutenant, there’s something strange up the hill to the right. About half a mile.”
Booker lifted the tablet to see what Cooper was hovering the drone over. He blinked, and raised his binoculars to focus on the anomaly. “Rusty, divert to those three lumps up the hill to the right.”
“Roger.” Rusty steered Fred toward the lumps. The platoon followed.
When they got closer, Booker ordered the vehicles into a protective lager surrounding the items of interest, and climbed down from the tank. “Pensky, get up here, and bring the camera.”
Pensky clambered up and hurried after Booker. Muñoz and Nohfa followed. The rest of the platoon watched the landscape over the sights of their weapons, grateful for the break but glancing back at the things Booker approached with some trepidation.
Three, rusted-out tanks crouched, sunken a few inches into the scrubby slope. The soil had built up around the tracks, maybe washed down hill by rainstorms. The hatches of all three vehicles lay open to the sky.
“Get some video of this.” Booker directed Pensky.
Muñoz stood next to Booker. Nohfa squatted down, waiting patiently. Her arms crossed on her knees.
“They’re German.” Booker said. “From World War II. Those two are Panzer IVs. That one is a Sturmgeschutz, an assault gun. They don’t look damaged, just abandoned. Like they just ran outta gas. What the hell are they doing here?”
Booker climbed up to the tank’s rear deck and cautiously approached the back of the turret. He craned his neck to peer into the open commander’s hatch. He didn’t want to get closer, in case some local wildlife had taken up residence. That would be a stupid way to go, savaged by some small dino who’d made a nest in the rusty hulk. All he could see was the corroded mass of the old tank’s main gun breech, and what was left of the commander’s seat.
Booker frowned at the antique tanks. “Did you see these things before now?”
“Didn’t come this way, before.” Muñoz explained.
Booker considered the local topography, and concluded that this route was the obvious choice for vehicles, Abrams, or Panzer IVs. The wind stirred Nohfa’s blonde hair. Booker studied her almost bored expression. Nohfa’s lack of trepidation at the tank platoon had seemed odd for a stone-age individual. Perhaps this was why.
“She’s seen ‘em before. I’d bet money on it. Ask her about these tanks.”
Muñoz spoke to Nohfa, who looked directly at Booker when she answered in her own language.
“She says these are the last ones.” Muñoz translated.
“The last ones? What the hell does that mean?”
Not rising from her crouch, Nohfa pointed a tanned arm at the panzers. “Laaast woonz.”
Booker felt like someone was walking over his grave. The wind blew. Nohfa watched him.
“Ahem. Pensky, any unit markings still visible on these things?”
“Yeah, Ell Tee. Don’t know what they mean, but I got them.” He patted the camera.
“Okay. We’ll let the experts back home figure out this mystery.” He glanced at the sun’s height, and his watch. “Let’s get moving again.”
Booker, Pensky, and Muñoz headed back to Fred. Nohfa stood, paused for a long look at the derelict panzers, and followed in their wake. Booker reseated his helmet, and ordered Bedrock patrol back on the march. Nohfa perched at the front of Fred’s turret again, and the platoon rumbled on.
“There’s some weird crap going on.” Booker said to Muñoz. “And, I mean weird even for a different universe. You see anything like that on your other missions?”
Muñoz shook his head. “No. Most of the other times I’ve gone through the gate, it’s pretty desolate on the other side. A few worlds have some kind of ecosystem, plants, and animals. But those are definitely in the minority. This is the first one with people, or dinosaurs.”
“So, no obsolete, abandoned tanks, before this?”
“Definitely not. How much do you know about the alternate universes the project has opened portals to?”
“Not much.” Booker admitted. “That’s need-to-know. And, up to now, I, or my men, didn’t need to know.”
Muñoz nodded. “Well, out of the hundreds found, there have been fewer than fifty worth bothering to send a scout to. Most of the time, the probe sends back telemetry of molten lava, glaciers, airless moonscapes, or empty space even. Like I said, even the ones that have breathable air are usually not worth the trip.”
The platoon rounded the hill and Nohfa directed them to bear left for another saddle between two distant knolls. A small stream wandered across the broad valley between. Booker’s mind gnawed at the mystery of the old tanks, realizing he’d find no ready answers. He decided to change the course of the conversation.
“Muñoz, you said you rode back to the gate with Nohfa on those tame dino...”
“Swahldets.”
“Yeah, swahldets.” Booker tried to commit the word to memory. “But you were on foot when you got here.”
“I was, until, Nohfa’s tribe found me. They came looking for me.”
“They were looking for you?”
“Said they heard the gate open, and their legends say to come search for visitors when thunder rumbles in a clear sky.”
Booker blinked at him. “This just gets stranger and stranger. They have legends about the gate? How can that be when the project isn’t more than a few years—”
“Sir,” Cooper’s voice crackled over the radio. “We just lost the drone.”
“What?”
“Drone signal stopped about twenty seconds ago. I’m looking at the last video now. You should see it on your tablet.”
Booker scrambled to retrieve the tablet, and watched video of the landscape from above. Tiny tanks crawled through a broad, grassy valley. Suddenly, the window tilted and spun. There was a flash of leathery wings, and sharp claws. Then static.
Booker grabbed his binoculars. “Where was the drone when you lost it?” He demanded over the radio.
“Three o’clock, about five hundred feet up.” Cooper replied.
Booker put the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the indicated piece of sky. Something that looked like a pterodactyl soared away, the drone clutched to its underside.
“Sonuva bitch!” Booker spat. “Looks like a flying dino is taking our drone back to feed its chicks.”
“Hope the lithium-ion battery gives ‘em indigestion.” Cooper quipped. “Readying another drone.”
“Hold off.” Booker said. “Looks like there are more of them up there. We’d likely lose the next one soon too.” Booker pondered the risks. He radioed on the platoon channel. “Heads up everybody. Some local flying fauna just ate our drone. I’m not bothering to send up another. So, keep your eyes peeled.”
Track commanders acknowledged the advisory. Except for sergeant first class Mulroney, in charge of the two tanks of B-section; Barney and Betty.
“El-Tee, we got movement on the ground, about ten o’clock, maybe five hundred yards out.” Mulroney radioed in his eastern Kentucky twang. “Must be big-uns, if I can see ‘em from here.”
“Rodger.” Booker swung the binoculars to the reported location. “Uh, there are four...” Booker hesitated, momentarily puzzled as how to describe what he saw. “T-rexes approaching, at a trot. Pebbles and Bam Bam swing over to the right of the line Try to keep the tanks between yourselves and the dinos. Everybody else turn to face.”
END OF PART 4
Next: MEETING ENGAGEMENT
Find the rest of the Containment Protocol tale here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 3 (last episode), Part 5 (next episode)
Author’s Note: The novel Muñoz got his scouting philosophy from is Tunnel in the Sky, by Robert A. Heinlein, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunnel_in_the_Sky. (Watch out for Stobor!)
Also, I must confess to an error in parts 2 & 3. There are 2 hatches in the top of an Abrams tank turret, one for the tank commander and one for the loader. Not the gunner. My bad. I feel shame. I’ll have to go back and fix that. In the mean time, here’s a handy dandy diagram for reference:
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