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downers and chased them with a shot of Tang and two
Valium from the locked supply cabinet. Rank hath its privileges.
Now, sprawled out on the couch in the doctors lounge, the cares of
an uncaring world had retreated to a fuzzy haze.
    A sound tried to break through. A
sharp, cutting sound, like the breaking of thick glass. Shirly
rolled over and promptly fell on the floor. The jolt of her tail
bone striking the hardwood snapped her awake.
    Shit! Must have dozed off. Probably
late for ---
    Memory flooded back. Dead. All dead.
Nothing but dead.
    Suddenly she heard it again. I did
sound like breaking glass! Her heart raced. Someone else is alive!
I’m not alone!
    Scrambling to her feet, she raced out
the door and down the main hall. She tried to call out, to let
whoever it was know that she too was alive. All that came out was a
strangled croak.
    Bursting through the swinging doors,
she saw him. A soldier, just inside the front door. He’d had to
break the glass to get at the lock. Her arms wide, Shirley ran
towards her savior --- towards the grinning face of Pussbag
Smitty.
    Her head hurt. Her back hurt. In point
of fact, after Pussbag got through working her over there were
precious few parts of Shirley Bates that didn’t hurt. But he hadn’t
touched her face. He’d seemed very concerned about that. Shirley
had been too for a while, but after several punches to the small of
her back and the third or fourth kick to her ribs, she really
didn’t give a fuck. After a while all Shirley Bates wanted was to
dry up like everyone else and just blow away.
    And now the monster was back. He
didn’t look like a monster, but Nurse Shirley knew he was --- for
only a monster could so easily and joyfully inflict such
pain.
    She tried to turn away, but he knew
just the right nerve to pinch, just the right amount of pressure
needed to set her squirming like an eel but not pass out. Oh, yes,
he was a monster all right! He may look like a man, but underneath
was a foul-breathed, maggot-filled creature from hell!
    Shirley summoned up the courage to
spit in his face, hoping he’d get angry and snap her neck. The
monster grinned and licked the saliva away with his tongue. Shirley
fainted.
    Pussbag stood looking down at the
bundle clothed in white. He nudged it with the toe of his combat
boot. Stupid cunt! Just like all the rest! But He’ll like her! If
not, there’s always the Closet!
    Pussbag yanked the
unconscious nurse over his shoulder and went off in search of the
Dark Stranger.
    First Lieutenant Sam Waterson sat in
what was left of the Officer’s Mess nursing a stiff drink and a
savage headache. Second Lieutenant Walter Pinkton sat close by,
nursing a full bladder and an even fuller blown case of the shakes.
Private George Sampson paced back and forth, nursing an ongoing
nervous condition that was rapidly approaching the psychotic. From
his place behind the bar, Jocco Wellington, silent and deadly,
watched the trio with cold indifference.
    Suddenly George stopped his pacing,
scrubbed at his shaven head, and swore. “Jesus Christ, Jocco, what
the fuck are we going to do?! I mean, shit man, everyone is fucking
DEAD!”
    Jocco sipped his drink, then nodded
towards the open space that had until recently been the fourth wall
of the Officer’s Lounge. There, standing in the growing dark, was
Pussbag Smitty. Hanging over his shoulder was the limp form of
nurse Shirley Bates.
    “Not quite everyone, Georgie-boy,”
Jocco said.
    George followed Jocco’s gaze. “Holy
shit! Who the fuck is that?!”
    Pussbag shuffled forward, his eyes,
fastened on Jocco, were big and bright. Madness danced just beneath
their surface. He dumped Shirley at Jocco’s feet and fell to his
knees. “’Follow me and I shall make thee great’”, Pussbag chanted.
“’A promise is a promise. Trust me.’” Those wild eyes took on a
dog-like luster. “I followed, just like you told me to. I worked
hard, just like you said.” He glanced down at Shirley’s