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Farewell to Bean

Last week, The Wife and I had to make the heart-breaking decision every pet owner must make. We had to take our beloved Bean in for his final vet visit. We knew it was coming. The vet told us it wasn’t likely Bean would see the new house. The cancer took its toll over the last month. Bean was barely able to get off the bed. The worst part – his disposition was still the sweet cat who just wanted cuddles and skritches. This one was hard on The Wife. Bean was her baby who she had when he was a kitten. To me, he was the cat who changed how I looked at hairless kitties.

We will miss you Bean.

Bean Close-Up

SuperBean

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 6 – Chapter 62

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0310 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez scowled as Alan emerged into the hallway. The tall sorcerer’s dark robes stood out against the concrete gray of the walls and floor. He looked surprised and amused to see the Zombie Strike team. Alan was holding a bloody knife in one hand. With the other he was dragging the rigid form of Collin DuBois. Mateo couldn’t tell if Collin was alive or dead.

Jim stepped to Mateo’s side, his Big Horn lever action at his shoulder. The hallway rocked with the rifle’s booming report. Red splattered the sterile gray wall as Alan spun and fell to the ground. Mateo shook his head, trying to clear the concussive effects of the big gun. He spun to reprimand the big cowboy. Jim had good reason to want Alan dead, but that didn’t give him a reason to deafen the team. Mate froze as Alan stood back up. The smiling face was gone. Alan looked annoyed.

"Nathan, that’s twice you’ve shot me," Alan said, calling Jim by his old name. Alan’s voice sounded tinny to Mateo’s recovering ears. Jim didn’t say anything. The cowboy just casually worked the lever action and brought the weapon back up. Alan sniffed at the weapon pointed at him.

"Don’t bother, I’ve already invoked a protection spell," Alan said. To demonstrate, he waved his knife in front of him. Purple energy sparked in the air. Mateo waved his team down. No sense in wasting ammunition.

"I told you to stay away from these people Nathan," Alan said pointing his knife at the team. "You had the chance to be spared their fate!"

"You really expect me to believe you? Or stand aside if I did?" Jim asked in response.

"I suppose not. I guess I owe Mikhail five euros." Mateo’s ears perked up. Mikhail, better known as Giant to Zombie Strike, had been the leader of the Truth’s so-called Champions. Zombie Strike still called them minions.

"So he didn’t die in Mexico City. That’s annoying," Mateo said, trying to keep his voice even and casual.

"You didn’t think something like that would have killed him?" Alan asked, sounding a bit surprised, "Haven’t you figured it out? He is more than just a Champion; he’s the Chosen of Xipe-Totec. The man is immortal." Alan made it sound like this was common knowledge.

"I’ve seen him bleed. I’ve seen him hurt. If I can hurt him and bleed him, I can kill him," Mateo said.

"You would need that attitude," Alan said, musingly. The sorcerer fell silent. Mateo wasn’t sure what to do. Alan had them dead to rights. With that magic knife, Alan could unleash a blast that could incinerate all of them before they could move. They couldn’t do anything against that shield. So what was the sorcerer waiting for?

Billy growled. The sound caught Mateo off-guard. He was turning to look at what Billy was growling at when Jess let loose a string of curses. Mateo heard the quiet pop of her SCAR. At the sound of gunfire, the team moved to face the new threat. Mateo whirled to see the alien-looking creature as it stepped off the stairs. He’d lost track of it during the fight with zombies. He hoped it wasn’t a fatal mistake. Jess kept firing, her hits ranging from center mass to head shots. The creature just absorbed the gunshots. Thick, black fluid oozed out of the bullet holes. If it felt pain, it didn’t show it. The creature lashed out, using its long arms like whips. One arm slashed across Jess’s body. Her SCAR clattered on the concrete floor as she shrunk back to a kneeling position, whimpering in pain.

The creature’s other arm lanced out at Quentin. The big man casually batted the green-wrapped appendage with his warhammer. As big as Quentin was, Mateo sometimes forgot how fast he could move. Quentin charged the creature. He thrust his hammer into the creature’s midsection. It swayed with the blow. Quentin didn’t wait for it to spring back. His arm drove the hammer down into the creature’s foot. The creature let out its unearthly screech. Quentin shoved the creature to the ground. With ruthless determination, Quentin hammered each joint starting from the ankles up. The creature couldn’t even muster a defense. It just writhed on the floor. With each wet crunch of the hammer finding a new mark, the creature screeched in pain. After both shoulders were destroyed, the screeching took on a new tone. It almost sounded as if the creature was crying. Mateo walked up and laid his hand on Quentin. The big man stopped.

"Finish it," Mateo said. Quentin just nodded and brought the hammer down on the creature’s head. The disturbing sounds stopped. Mateo crouched down next to his foster daughter. She was clutching Billy as if the wolf was a life preserver. He tried to coax her into looking at him, but she just flinched from his touch and gripped Billy tighter.

"What did that thing do to her?" Mateo demanded from Alan. The sorcerer had propped Collin’s still form against a wall and was sitting cross-legged on the ground.

"I really should have considered that you might use that kind of blunt force trauma on Albert," Alan said, focusing on the still form of the creature. Mateo slammed the shield with the butt of his M4. Brilliant purple sparks of energy cascaded in the air where the gun hit the shield. A startled Alan looked up at Mateo.

"What in the Flayed One’s name do you think you’re doing?" Alan asked, scooting back a few feet.

"What did you do to my daughter?" Mateo asked again, his voice tight with rage.

"Oh that. Enhanced neurotoxin. She’s feeling all of her emotional trauma for the last year or so all at once. From her reaction, I’d say she has had a rough year. I’m going to have to remember that." Alan looked absolutely pleased with himself. Mateo could only stare at the sorcerer in shock. Alan looked past Mateo.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Alan said to Tredegar. The FBI agent was standing over Jess with an injector in hand. "The toxin reacts poorly to sedatives. It’ll set off every pain sensor in the body."

"You’re a monster," Tredegar said, putting away the injector.

"Actually, I’m not. I’m a faithful and powerful servant of the Flayed One," Alan said. "Those are monsters." He produced an alarm fob from under his robes. With a press of a button, the other doors in the corridor slid open. The team fell back to surround Jess in a circle of firepower. Billy growled. As Alan giggled, something out of Mateo’s nightmares slid out of one of the doors.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 63

Friday Quote – Alice Cooper

When musicians are telling people who to vote for, I think that’s an abuse of power. You’re telling your fans not to think for themselves, just to think like you. Rock and roll is about freedom, and that’s not freedom.

A Year of COVID

A lot of us are looking back as this is the week COVID hit. Yeah, the virus was in the US back in January of 2020, but March was when things started shutting down. It was when people started to work from home. It was when toilet paper and hand sanitizer vanished. It was when our government officials lied to us about masks because they didn’t trust us – and then got upset because we no longer trusted them.

I’m disturbed how quickly both sides turned a pandemic into a political football. Trump was the biggest factor in that. It was either everything he said was brilliant and the other side was trying to kill people by denying it, or he was deliberately doing the wrong things to kill people. The noise made it so hard to get reliable information. Even those “independent” voices found themselves swayed one way or another by the Trump tidal wave.

Just as with 9/11 twenty years ago, COVID’s impact has changed the world. I’m seeing this and there are scary parallels to the decades before the fall of the Roman Republic, as well as the time before the French Revolution.

I really hope I’m wrong.

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 6 – Chapter 61

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0245 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez took a step back as a zombie grabbed at him. It was too close. Mateo let his M4 fall on its sling and drew his pistol. The Sig 250 barked twice and the zombie fell back. Mateo slid back another few steps as more zombies lunged from the broken kiosk. Mateo took down the first two with double-taps. The third grabbed Mateo’s pistol. Mateo let go of the pistol. He hated close quarters with zombies. Mateo yanked his fighting knife and jabbed it through the zombie’s eye. Mateo jerked the blade out. The last zombie pushed Mateo to the ground. Mateo rolled, trying to bring up his M4. The zombie lunged down.

Billy slammed into the zombie. With one savage snap, the spirit wolf crushed the zombie’s head. Mateo rose to his feet as Jess ran up to her foster father. She took another half-dozen zombies down with a series of shots. Mateo took a second to survey the plaza. His team was fighting the two hundred zombies that attacked from the kiosks and the fountain. From the echoing sounds of hunting moans, hundreds more were boring down on them.

"Jim, you and Sport fall back to the town center," Mateo ordered. The tall cowboy slammed the butt of his rifle into a fountain zombie and nodded. "Quentin, Tredegar, get over here!" The team’s close-quarters specialist had his warhammer out and in action. A pile of crushed undead laid at his feet. Quentin decapitated two more zombies with a lighting pair of strikes before retreating back towards the team leader. Tredegar followed the big man eagerly. He still looked in shock at the sheer number of the undead. At least he was firing his weapon.

Mateo needed to get his team together where they could hold out against the zombies. The only place to make a stand looked like the town center – the building his team was supposed to be assaulting. Well, the worse that would happen is his team would get pinned between Truth cultists and a horde of zombies. They’d been in worse spots before. As soon as Jim and Sport were at the front of the building, Mateo ordered the retreat. The four humans and one spirit wolf sprinted to the door. The zombies, sensing their prey escaping, let out a chorus of hunting moans and shambled as fast as they could. The horde grew as smaller groups of zombies joined the pursuit. By the time the team joined up at the front of the town center, the horde easily numbered over three hundred – and that was just the first wave. There wasn’t time to dally. Mateo looked over the door quickly. It was a large steel double door maybe ten feet high by six feet wide. The door lock was a key card type, like the hotels used. Probably too strong for Quentin to knock open. That left one other option.

"Sport, blow the door," Mateo ordered. The Brit nodded and trotted over to the door.

"Wait," Tredegar said as he fumbled through one of his bags. He pulled out what looked like a credit card. "Try this." Sport looked over at Mateo. The team leader nodded. Sport slipped the card into the lock. The metallic click was audible over the ragged chorus of hunting moans. Mateo quickly signaled for Jim and Quentin to clear the entryway. As Sport opened the right door, Jim and Quentin charged through with guns up.

"Where did you get that key?" Mateo asked Tredegar as they waited for the clear signal.

"I found it on one of the guys we killed earlier," Tredegar answered, referring to the firefight when the team entered the town. "It looked kind of important." Mateo nodded. This was why he’d brought Tredegar along. The man was almost psychic when it came to intelligence.

"Fair enough," Mateo said.

"We’re clear Matt," Quentin said over the radio. Mateo hand signaled for the rest of the team to get into the building. Mateo waited until his team was in before he trotted inside. As soon as Mateo was in, Sport slammed the door shut. Mateo was glad they didn’t need to blow the door. Now, he only needed to worry about the cultists in the building. Getting back out might be interesting, but he’d worry about that later. Worse came to worse, they’d Saigon off the roof of the town center.

The room was pitch black. There wasn’t enough ambient light for the nightvision to work. Mateo turned on his weapon light. The rest of the team followed suit. The lobby of the town center looked more like a bank than a town hall. A row of teller windows was opposite of the front door. There was some kind of work space behind the teller windows. On either side were conference rooms. The team had already cleared those. To the right of the teller windows was a door with a sign in Italian. Mateo didn’t know Italian, but his Spanish worked well enough to get a rough translation. "Village Offices." Or something close to that.

"That way," Mateo said, pointing at the door. Quentin tried the handle. Locked. Quentin hit it with his hammer. The door slammed open. Two cultists in badly fitted tactical gear squinted as the white beams of high powered lights hit them.

"Alive," Mateo growled. Jim stepped into the door and slammed his rifle butt into the right cultist’s face. The man went down without a sound. Quentin’s hammer connected with the other cultist’s knee in a wet crunch. The man screamed in pain. Mateo scowled as Quentin clamped his massive hand over the man’s mouth. The screaming went to a muted noise. Tredegar knelt next to the man and injected him with a pain-killer.

"What are you doing?" Mateo demanded.

"Wait," Tredegar said, holding a finger up. Mateo bit down his angry retort. Tredegar was a professional. Mateo had to trust him to know what he was doing. The screaming lessened as the drug took effect. Tredegar waited for several long moments. Then, Tredegar talked to the cultist in a language Mateo didn’t know. It sounded similar to Spanish. The cultist replied in slurred Italian. The two exchanged a few quick bursts of unintelligible speech. Finally, the cultist leaned back and went still.

"There’s a stairwell at the back," Tredegar said, "It’s normally guarded, but most of the guards left to deal with Collin’s team. He didn’t know how many more Truth members were down there, but it should be support staff and leadership. Just the people we’re here to apprehend."

"Thank you Edgar," Mateo said, and then looked over at Sport. The Brit walked over to the resting cultist, drew his pistol, and placed two rounds into the man. Tredegar let out a strangled cry.

"We’re not here to bloody apprehend these people," Sport said, "We’re here to wipe out this base and every member of the Truth on this island." He casually holstered his weapon and stepped back. Tredegar looked pleadingly over to Mateo.

"Sport’s right, Tredegar," Mateo said in a low voice, "If we can capture any of the high rankers for you without undue risk, we will. Otherwise, anyone who willingly joined the Truth will not leave this island alive." Tredegar looked to the others in the team. Only Quentin looked disturbed by Sport’s actions, but he didn’t say anything. Defeated, Tredegar didn’t say anything further. The team crept down the hallway. As they approached the stairwell, light began to filter up from the lower level. The team slinked down the stairs with weapons up.

The lower level was brightly lit with rows of fluorescent lights running the length of the ceiling. As the team came out of the stairwell, they were in a corridor some fifty feet in length. At the end of the corridor was some kind of arch. Shadows hid what was under the arch. The floors and walls were unpainted concrete. There were three evenly spaced, metal doors on either side of the corridor. Mateo motioned the team forward. They had gone only a few yards when a wave of power swept the hallway. Mateo hated the nauseating feeling. A familiar voice echoed through the corridor.

"Seriously Collin, you should be thanking me right now," Alan said as he exited the arch dragging a wounded Collin behind him. The tall sorcerer for the Truth stopped as he saw the weapons of Mateo’s team leveled at him. He was surprised by the team’s appearance, but showed no sign of fear. A devious smile spread across Alan’s face.

"Oh good, I don’t have to go looking for you."

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 62

Friday Quote – Colion Noir

Americans refuse to use the metric system just cause. We have AM and PM because we don’t feel like counting to 24. We hold a “World Series” with only American teams. We write our dates out of order just to fuck with people from other countries, and the last time someone tried to take our guns, we shot at them for eight years straight. Americans aren’t known for their compliance.

EDC Post 2021

Another in my series of seeing how things change year over year. I tend to carry a lot of stuff. It helps that I wear cargo pants pretty much every day. Here are my previous posts:

2018 post.

2019 post.

2020 post.

Wallet

I use a Saddleback Large Leather wallet.. I keep a Tool Logic Credit Card inside it. It’s not that I use it that much. Mostly, it’s because I’ve had the damn thing for probably twenty-five years, and my wallet feels empty without it.

Keys

My brother picked me up a Lifelong Ring 300 key ring system. I mainly use the main big ring and have all of my keys on the wire key rings. In addition to my keys, I have:

“Urban Kit”

This is one of a Maxpedition pocket pouch that I stash useful stuff. I keep the following:

  • First aid kit – Coleman Mini First Aid Kit– This handles handles minor emergencies, and I like the tin as a container.
  • Scissors and tweezers – Because sometimes a knife isn’t the tool for every situation
  • Bic disposal lighter – Must Have Fire
  • Lightning to 3.5 mm adapter – in case I need to use wired headphones
  • Anker lipstick battery – useful recharge for all of my little electronics
  • Short lightning cable for phone – Three foot or less, just long enough to use the lipstick battery
  • 2 Spare CR123 batteries – Mainly for my flashlights
  • Reusable twist ties
  • Lightning to micro USB adapter – So I can recharge my lipstick battery and not have to carry a second cable
  • Emergency cash – No, I’m not going to say how much

Pocketknife

Most of the time, I carry a Kershaw-Emerson CQC-10 along with a Gerber Dime multi-tool.

For the rare times I’ve had to go into the office, I’m carrying a Leatherman Skeletool. It’s a bit “friendlier” when dealing with coworkers.

Flashlight

Lately, I’ve been carrying the bigger Sreamlight ProTac 750 lumen flashlight. It’s too big to really be a pocket flashlight, so I carry it in the spare magazine holder.

If I have to go into the office, I carry an older Streamlight ProTac.

Pepper Spray

I carry a small Sabre Pepper Spray for when I need something between strong words and deadly force.

Earbuds

Currently, I’m using a pair of Apple AirPods Pro. Expensive, but worth the cost IMHO. I particularly like the “transparent” mode which allows more of the outside sound through.

Phone

I’m using an iPhone XR. I have the 256 GB model because I cram it with audiobooks. Lots of audiobooks. I use a simple case that has the texture of a MagPul P-MAG.

Watch

I’m using a 44mm Series 5 Apple Watch. I like the always on feature.

Pen

For the day job, I carry a Smith and Wesson M&P tactical pen.

Otherwise, I carry a CRKT tactical pen.

Sidearm

Unless I’m going to someplace I’m not legally allowed to carry, I generally have my Smith and Wesson M&P9 (First Gen) equipped with a Streamlight TLR-1 and Trijicon night sights. I keep it and the spare magazine loaded with 124-grain Speer Gold Dots (since that’s what the local cops use). I’ve switched to using a Bravo Concealment kydex IWB holster after the leather on my hybrid started folding over and preventing good holstering. I’m using a BladeTech kydex magazine holder for the spare magazine and the flashlight.

Southwest Florida Blogshoot AAR

  1. Much to The Wife’s relief, I decided against wearing a kilt. The weather would have been fine for it, but the idea of catching hot brass on the shin? Yeah, I decided to play it safe.

  2. Borepatch managed to secure the private range with both pistol and rifle ranges. Very nice. Very spacious. His lovely wife laid out a wonderful spread that I happily partook of.

  3. Divemedic was nice enough to give the group a medical briefing. Including showing how to use a tourniquet, chest seal, and quick clot. Now I want to take a full first aid course again.

  4. Miguel was running an El Presidente drill, but I didn’t participate because…

  5. I brought my grandpa’s M1 carbine out to play. The story is that Grandpa bought the M1 from the same mailing house where Oswald bought his Carcano. Not sure about the veracity, but I’m not going to probe too hard. I picked up a couple of magazines for the M1 at a past gun show and gave them a workout. One ran fine. The other needs further testing. Unfortunately, with the scarceness of 30 carbine ammo, that’s not going to happen soon. Rattus also cheerfully info-loaded me about my M1 carbine and where I could locate additional magazines.

  6. Bottom line, I had a shit ton of fun. And I’m looking forward to the next one. I think Borepatch is aiming for a fall date because one during the summer would be "too hot." Hopefully, I’ll have my new rifle. Maybe. Fucking roofs.