“Okay, we get to shoot each other with paintballs. To what end?”
“You will need to train the men in combat tactics: defensive, offensive, search, and retrieval.”
“Why?”
“You tell me,” his father challenged.
Keith thought about it for a moment and said, “You don’t know what we’re going to find when we get out.”
“That is the general consensus, and what we would like you to limit it to when you explain it to the men. To be more specific, we expect to find both animal life and MuTerra.”
“MuTerra?” Keith asked in confusion.
“Sorry. That is the terminology used in our reports. Mu is short for mutant, and terra means earth or land― ‘mutants of the land.’”
“So what; we’re just going to kill them?” Keith asked in anger.
“If need be,” his father said evenly as he held his son’s gaze.
“We don’t know what we will find Keith. We don’t know if people will be aggressive, hostile, or passive. The same goes with the animals. There is more, but you can understand that precautions need to be taken.”
“What is the more,” Keith asked.
After pausing to study his son‘s face, he decided to go on, “I can see you’re not going to think this through without getting into a fight, so I’ll explain what you would have been able to come up with yourself, given a little time and effort.”
Keith leaned back in his chair indicating that his father would indeed have to spell things out.
“Who else do you think might be out there,” he asked his son.
Keith just looked at him not able to come up with anything in reply.
“How about others like us? We are not the only facility in the world built underground and prepared for such catastrophes.”
That announcement caught Keith unawares. Of course, he knew there were other underground military facilities. Why hadn‘t he thought of that before now, he wondered as they sat in silence. When the moment passed, Keith replied, “So it’s a race then, to see who gets out first to stake their claim.”
“That is a reasonable conclusion, but one that doesn’t have to be as ominous as you make it sound.”
“Are we in contact with any other facilities,” Keith asked.
“Unfortunately, no, we did have a communications system set up, but it has either been a failure, or those we were connected to no longer exist.”
“You said retrieval earlier. What did you mean by that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like; if there are MuTerra....”
“You mean people dad. People like Frankie,” Keith interjected.
“Don’t get your hopes up on what these ‘people’ will be like. They have been exposed to radiation not only through their skin, but also through what they have been eating, and drinking. It is unknown to what extent they have been changed by such prolonged exposure or what effect it has had on proliferation.”
The fact that his father was talking in technical terms, and with such a lack of emotion, annoyed him. It was not personal, and he knew he was getting a narrative of some study that was already generated on the subject, no doubt in great detail, but it annoyed him just the same.
“If Frankie was out there, wouldn’t you want to find him,” his father asked.
It was a ploy, and Keith new it. He also knew that he was better off keeping his mouth shut until he learned all he could. He left that challenge go and changed direction. “Okay. So you want us to retrieve people; for what purpose?”
“We’ll have a contained facility to study them. They will be kept alive and cared for. They do us little good if we were to let them die. But, even more importantly than that, we want animals; primarily anything resembling domesticated animals.”
“Why?”
“We have a cryogenic lab here. It is quite extensive. Our geneticists have preserved one female and one male of each domestic animal. They are confident that if they can test those animals that have survived on the surface, they should be able to use stem cell regeneration to reverse or improve any deformities. They are not as confident that they can re-create or clone those same creatures from a test tube, but if that is all they are left with, it will have to be worked out. It would be much easier to work on the living, or so I am advised.”
“So, we have to be ready for mutant animals, mutant people, and possibly others, who like us, may be out there looking for what little there may be to be had?”
“Simply put, yes.”
“I’d like more men.”
“Right now, we don’t have any. I suggest you restructure your organization to accommodate a two hundred man tactical team, and train as necessary.”
“That isn’t going to go over very well. We’re not exactly putting in overtime now, but that will consume a lot of additional hours.”
“You can reduce your operations on the lower levels. Limit them to response only. Training is education, which they can use in lieu of classes. Whether or not they like it is immaterial. It needs to be done, and it’s going to be done,” he said with a voice signifying it was an order.
“I suppose I can assume that any other underground survivors would be making the same preparations as we are?”
“I believe that is a safe assumption.”
“What level did you say our new training area is on,” Keith asked indicating his acceptance of his orders, and that their discussion was over, for now.
The fact that their numbers had been depleted as they were, forced the survivors to all but vacate the smallest settlement of Bardin. After five years of having to bury three out of every four settlers, it was decided that they would relocate to the other two camps, with most of them going to Mezzo. They constructed traps and closed as much of the passageway, leading out of the valley, as they could before they left. It was now a small outpost consisting of eight man teams, which were rotated on a weekly basis. They were charged with defending the access point, or at the least, providing an early warning system for the inhabitants of the other two villages.
There had been occasional new comers to the valley. Some were in such a poor state of health that after a short time, they too had to be interred. Others survived to help shore up their ranks. A few continued on, only making a brief stopover, on whatever quest impelled them.
There were two primary concerns for the people of the valley. One was the wild beasts inhabiting their borders. These ranged from packs of what resembled wild dogs, to predatory cats, and the feared rock wolf. It was called a rock wolf because that is where it lived, in the most uninhabitable and roughest terrain in the outer regions. It was black in color, with golden eyes. Most of the creatures outside of the valley had golden eyes. The rock wolf stood four feet tall, and was almost as wide. It could cover a considerable distance in one leap, and its speed was unmatched. If it came upon a man unawares, little could be done in defense. Nothing dared to stand in its way.
While the rock wolves seldom ventured into the valley, other creatures did. One such creature was once as human as they were. At first, they were seen as just unhealthy survivors wandering around on their own. They were offered food and shelter, but they never uttered a word or interacted with them in any way. That lasted until the first one started to eat one of the settlers of Mezzo. It became apparent that when these golden-eyed brutes smelled fresh blood, from either man or animal, they went into a kind of uncontrolled eating frenzy. They were not necessarily large or muscled, but their sinewy appendages were able to exert great strength and allowed them to move at speeds faster than the average person. They were barely clad, if at all, and wandered about aimlessly. If they were encountered outside of the valley, they seldom paid any attention, unless, of course, there was blood in the air. They gave no thought to numbers or strategy. If they smelled blood, they would attack. At times, they were seen in small groups, but for the most part, they walked alone. They were called Raveners. The inhabitants of the valley avoided them as best they could. They still recognized them to have once been human, and they too were dealing with changes and mutations of their own, which they could not alter; but the savageness was too much to tolerate in close quarters.