Yggsdrasil

everittdmickey (73)in #fiction • 9 years ago (edited)

Chapter 21: On the Rampart drinking Coffee.
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Terror Bird after a mule
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Sgt. Hobbs woke up to someone kicking his foot. He opened his eyes and sat up,holstering the revolver that he had slept with. The Remington was at half cock so it was harmless but it was also instantly available. The huge Texan was standing there, glanced at the weapon, yet said nothing. The big Texan himself was loaded for bear. He had his two model 1858 Remington Revolvers in twin holsters. He also had one of those Orc Pintle guns slung over his shoulder. Being a Texan he probably had all kinds of swords, knives and even hatchets hidden upon his person.

The big man leaned over and handed Hobbs a mug of that mildly corrosive brew that was masquerading as coffee, offered him a hand up, then casually yanked the Sergeant to his feet. Either the Texan didn't know his own strength or he was showing off. Hobbs come up so fast that he almost spilled his coffee. Even so being stiff and sore from yesterday he appreciated the help.

Coffee! Hobbs gratefully but cautiously took a sip.. It was Texas coffee, a horseshoe would by god float in it. Briefly. Before dissolving. It was wonderful.

The two men wandered over to the defensive works that Hobbs had supervised being built the day before. First Sergeant Halsey was already there as were the other surviving platoon sergeants. There were also the tailed and furred little people. The little people who rode the BIG animals. They, too, were cautiously sipping on the Texan brewed ichor. They were all gathered on the berm and alongside the pole palisade that the army had built yesterday. The unlikely group looked over the countryside while they sipped coffee and talked.

"Excellent job on these fortifications Sergeant, very well done. I've seen permanent installations that were less secure." said the big Texan in admiration. First Sergeant Halsey nodded in agreement. The little people made no comment.

"Thank you Sir. “ answered Sgt. Hobbs. A great many of the other platoon sergeants hadn’t survived the stampede so Hobbs had assumed command over people not technically under him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that today after a nights sleep.

One of the other Sergeants...name of Earl Welker asked,“What the hell kinda mess we got ourselves into Capt'n? Where the hell are we?"

All the other sergeants nodded in agreement. They wanted to know also.

" I have no earthly idea." said the Texan."In fact, and considering that I've been to a great many places on earth, and this doesn't much look like any of them...I'd say...."

His voice trailed off…

In the distance they heard the defiant bray of a pissed off Army Mule. The bray was followed by a loud squawk. They turned toward the sound. One of the Demon’s Butcher Birds had survived. The huge flightless carnivore was chasing one of their wagon mules. Being a mule it had perhaps seen an opportunity to escape yesterday and ducked out during the fight. That it had survived the night in the carnivore infested forest was remarkable, even for a mule.

Apparently it had enough of living in the wild and was trying to regain the protection of humans...or perhaps it just wanted some oats.

The butcher bird had other ideas. It considered the mule to be food. The mule was running fairly fast but the bird was faster. The Big Bird closed on the fleeing jackass and reared it’s head back like a Rattlesnake, to strike. If the plunging beak were to sever the mules spine it would be all over.

The birds head flashed downward , only to be met by the twin hind hooves of the galloping mule. It was impossible for a mule to do that, but mules are stubborn animals, they do as they please, impossible or no. The bird was kicked upright to stand for a brief instant on it’s tippy toes.

“Crr…Ack ….Ack ….Ack ….Ack ….cccccccK!!..

….the bird’s tiny forehead practically disintegrated in a spray of blood and feathers... then collapsed in a heap.

Hobbs cringed at the loud report and plaintively asked the Texan "What the hell is that?"

The Texan grinned broadly. “It’s one of the Orc’s pintle guns. I had the wainwright put a stock on it so I could use it as a shoulder weapon…..Wow.”

He rubbed his shoulder "I thought my Holland and Holland two bore was loud and kicked hard. This thing gives a whole new meaning to the word “ouch’ I didn't notice the kick so much yesterday in the heat of battle, though. I think it needs some padding."

The Cavalry Sergeants shook their heads indulgently. A Texas gun geek in full cry, what could you say?

Hobbs looked at the alien weapon for a moment then looked again out over the land before them. That was truly an evil looking gun. It had pulverized that bird’s head from an amazing distance. It was comforting, in a way, to have such a weapon given their circumstances. It was even more comforting when he realized how MANY of the Orc’s weapons they had captured and how much ammo.

The Texan turned to Sargent Hobbs and said in a conversational tone "As I was about to say it doesn't appear that we're in Kansas any longer Sargent, or Utah or even Earth."

The Texan nodded toward the little long tailed furred boy and a truly lovely girl ,who he wished would put on a shirt, at their side. The little people seemed to have no fear of the humans. The boy was trying to hold a cup of the Texan's coffee. He was having a hard time of it. The cup was too big for him. Hobbs looked up and saw a Griffin, a mythical beast that didn’t exist fly over head. He could help but recall the gigantic creatures they’d encountered yesterday and nodded his head. "Yeah,I’d say so too. I don't recall seeing anyone like these guys back home"

The Texan grinned and took a sip of his coffee..."Very astute of you sergeant."