Chapter 32 – Welcome to DOR

  The transition this time wasn’t as jarring or sickening, which Cole attributed to his increased resilience propping him up.

  The swirling field of blue around him dissipated, leaving the pit in the bottom of the portal complex back at the DOR compound. Cole trudged forward, feeling lessened under the artificial Lewis Field of the compound. He waved off the medics who approached and passed two higher-level Kickers who had been on alert. The medics went to Han, instead, getting him up onto a ready gurney for transport to the medical facility. The gunners manning the heavy machine guns at the corners of the room returned their muzzles to index. Could have used one of those against Ram-head, thought Cole. Hell, was he strong enough to carry one as a primary arm, now?

  “Welcome back, Kickers!” called a voice Cole recognized as Bricker’s assistant, Ms. Mary. She pointed to a series of barrels at the far wall. “Clear and make safe all weapons, Earth origin or otherwise. Then drop your bags on the pallet.”

  Too tired to do anything but comply, Cole went through the familiar ritual of unloading his rifle and sidearm—only slightly stranger with the otherworld armament that still had about sixty-percent overlap with the AR-10 strapped to his backpack. That done, he trudged up the ramp out of the pit and swung his bag down onto the wide, metal loading pallet next to the waiting forklift. With a glance down into the pit, he saw Morganstern materialize next to the spooky blonde girl and tilted his head. That was fast. Morganstern was dragging Ram-head’s pole-axe on the ground behind her and had his horned helmet under her arm.

  Roxy followed his gaze as she dropped both her pack and Han’s that she’d carried after his injury. “Huh. I guess she made it too. She must have been close behind us.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Cole. He hadn’t noticed a glow anywhere when he burned his ability against Ram-head, but the timing was too convenient. Nona had been there watching. “Souvenirs?” Cole called down to Morganstern.

  She looked back up. “For the lab boys,” she said, neglecting to elaborate further as she scraped the heavy armament across the concrete pad and dropped it on the pallet.

  A siren buzzed, and a few seconds later, the portal zapped out and a return to being a standard, un-enhanced, extremely exhausted human hit like an artillery shell. The entire world dimmed noticeably as his heightened acuity dropped away, and even just his armor and the otherworld armament in his hands started to feel heavy—and so did his eyelids, for that matter.

  “Oh, fuck my life,” said Howie, slumping over.

  On the cargo pallet, teams of two were working to shift the bags, which had been filled with not just their survival equipment but any loot picked up in Curahee and vials of LF residue. And the teams struggled. Just how much had they been hauling around without even thinking about it?

  Ken and Besson looked completely deflated as well. The only one who didn’t mind the return to normal seemed to be Nutmeg, with her tongue lolling out and her cropped tail wiggling back and forth. Were baseline humans, even ones in such good physical shape, really so utterly weak compared to otherworlders?

  “Kickers, fall in!” shouted Morganstern. The proctor waited while they formed a loose line on the platform. Ms. Mary stood in front of them.

  “Usually, Director Bricker would be here himself to congratulate you on your success, but he’s been called up to Washington for an urgent matter. So I’ll be the first to congratulate you on the incredible achievement of passing through Curahee. I’ll also be introducing you, instead, to one of DOR’s policies most beloved by Kickers: mandatory eighteen hours of downtime post transition from an LF mission world. Your debrief will be tomorrow after the analysts have had time to go through your helmet cam footage. And Director Bricker will be attending that. This begins as soon as your gear is checked back into the armory, so please follow the forklift. Dismissed.”

  Cole tilted his head. “No quarantine? What about the fungal fever shit? Ludwig took that stuff pretty serious. What if one of us got infected?”

  Morganstern snickered. “You were all infected the minute you came in contact with a dead head, dummy. The anti-fungals don’t prevent the infection, they just suppress the symptoms. Without them, you’d have been dead by the time you reached the castle.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Cole just stared. "Did we bring the infection into Last Fall Hold?"

  Which just made Morganstern laugh harder and wave him off. Unlike the rest of them, her strength seemed to be returning.

  “Relax. It's not Ludwig's protocols keeping LFH safe. Clara's a deific energy healer. Without the druid empowering and controlling the infection, it's not difficult to manage. Hell, she cured mine while she worked on containing that curse. It can't survive outside a Lewis Field for more than a few hours, anyway. You'll be clean by midnight. Besides..." she glanced at Nona, "It's not contagious until you reanimate. Unfortunately."

  Cole glanced at Nona, unsure of what Morganstern meant. But whatever curse had addled her in the Lewis Field must have worked the same way without one, because she was already looking more like the Morganstern who had leapt off the cliff into the lower forest and less the invalid who could barely lift a sidearm. The forklift driver started his vehicle and maneuvered his prongs under the cargo pallet, lifting it up and heading for the sliding steel doors that led out into the compound. When they slid open, it was late evening, and Cole could hear the frogs and crickets singing. He followed behind the forklift as it carried their rucks to the large loading bay doors at the armory. Jefferson was waiting outside, and he waved the Kickers in through the main entrance with a big grin on his face.

  “Glad to see so many of you made it out—especially my rifle,” he said, prodding Cole’s chest with a thick finger. “I’ll be needing that back. How’d she hold up?”

  “Saved my life at least a half dozen times,” said Cole. Jefferson held the door open, and they marched through, where they then had to wait for him to come in and open the inner door with his keycard.

  “Seems you found an upgrade. You better not have ditched my baby in some mushroom patch.”

  “It’s on my pack,” said Cole, “Good as new. Better, even.”

  “Good to hear,” said Jeff. He raised his voice. “All weapons and otherworld equipment on the table in the box with your names on it. I’ll get it all inventoried, analyzed at the lab, and have it ready for your next mission. PPE will be in your gear locker. Helmets on the bench so I can pull all the memory cards and hand them off to the analysts.”

  “We’re missing a box,” said Roxy. She looked around the group. “Wait, and a person. Where’d Nona go?”

  “She was right behind me,” said Ken.

  “Special circumstances,” said Jeff, motioning to the table. Jefferson watched while the tryouts doffed all their gear and organized it on the table. After three days in the field, Cole felt naked without his battle rattle. But even without his enhanced acuity, he could smell the funk of his own dried sweat and grossness, so he was glad to be out of the vest. His uniform underneath stuck fast to him with cold sweat. It seemed like so much longer than just a few minutes ago that he’d been fighting for his life in the throne room of another world.

  “Alright, Kickers,” said Jeff, clapping his hands. “Congratulations. I really am glad to see almost everyone made it home. That doesn’t always happen. Even without other otherworld incursions, Curahee is a dangerous place. I look forward to continuing to serve as your armorer. Come see me after your debrief, you’ll have access to the lab and I can introduce you to the twins. But, for now, you’re all officially off-duty. Go back to your billets, and for God’s sake, take a shower.”

  “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” said Howie. “Thanks, Jefferson.” He turned to the rest of them. “I love you all, but I don’t want to see anyone for, like, a day.”

  Besson grunted his agreement as they made their way back into the warm Virginia night.

  Ken nodded. “I’ll check on Han before turning in. I’ll send a text with his condition.”

  Roxy stepped up to walk beside Cole. “I’m probably going to take a nap, then hit the gym,” she said with a grin. “Want to join me for a midnight lift?”

  “How can you even think about working out right now?” asked Cole.

  “Enjoy your beauty sleep, then. You need it. And… thanks.”

  “For what?”

  She shrugged. “Not being psycho, I guess. Seeming like you always knew what to do, even if you really didn’t. Made it easier to deal with all the insanity.” She thought for a second. “Though you did throw an armored asshole at me. So actually, go fuck yourself.”

  Cole laughed. “Maybe after I sleep for a week, I’ll give you a spot.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she threatened, and then jogged ahead.

  Cole glanced over at Besson, who was very much not walking with anyone but Nutmeg, no matter who happened to be in his immediate vicinity. Howie was all but dead on his feet.

  They’d worked well together. Maybe not quite as disciplined or professional as some of his Airborne platoon, but capable, and covered each others weaknesses well. And they’d still barely made it home. Jeff had been right, Curahee felt far more dangerous than Iraq or Syria with its superhuman threats and prowling monsters—not to mention Ram-head and his pocket mage. But he was feeling pretty super-human himself. Reloading his rifle midair? Pulling out his sidearm in a grapple and firing it with the muzzle buried in a giant’s midsection? And even with those feats, they’d barely squeaked through.

  If that was considered a gentle, risk index 1 world, what did other worlds have in store for him?

  He hung back a moment after the others left. Jeff eyed him. “I got something called a divergent class evolution," he said.

  Jeff relaxed. “Oh. Way you were looking at me, figured you were about to drop a bomb. That ain’t nothin'. As classes evolve, Kickers start having a say in the shaping. The meditation process is different for everyone. But anyone can do it.” He tossed one of the LF analyzers back to Cole. “Here. Read up on it. Don’t even need a Lewis Field for that."