War with the Deranged Killer Mutant Monster Snow Goons
Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes and all characters associated with the comic. All rights are owned by Bill Waterson.
"They're all dead!" a voice cried out, "Oh god, they all dead!" it was coming from a boy as he rushed through an opened metal framed gate into a courtyard. Hearing his pleas, others, from buildings and all around, gathered around him to hear what this bad news was. "They're all dead!" coming to a stop near the center of this courtyard, panting, his breath forming thin wisps of steam. Milling about, they began to converse. No one believed him, "What do you mean?" one asked.
"Them" exclaiming, "Those at the fort. They're all dead!" the messenger coughed.
One big boy grabbed the messenger by the collar, threatening him not to tell any more lies.
"It's not a lie" in his own defense with his face bleach white, "It's the gosh honest truth."
Their roars of anger and surprise emanated outside far and deep into the woods as Calvin sluggishly moved forward. His companions were completely exhausted. They must have gone twenty miles, however it was less than three, through these woods and they were no closer in finding sanctuary than when they started. "How much further must we go?" Susie shouted from the rear along with Hobbes whom was keeping an eye out for any pursuers.
"There's a hill not far away" replied Calvin, "We'll stop and rest there for awhile"
Susie seemed irritated by his response. "Why a hill? Why not rest here? The wounded can't make it." Calvin kept tromping onward whilst biting his tongue not wanting to curse the little witch. Who was she to back talk him? Nothing. A nothing. That is what she is.
Continuing to walk alone, well ahead of his people, Calvin finally spotted this desolate hill, with no name, and blanketed in unturned snow. Shaped like a bent finger, this hill, from it's knuckle, gradually began in incline all the way to the tip which sat on a narrow stream bed coupled with a sheer rock face. Going from through the thick, naked, stands of tree trunks they inexplicably cleared to show the hill that he was looking for. It looked like a safe spot, desolate, out the way, sitting in rather unfamiliar territory. If he barely knew about it, perhaps those goons did not know about it either. It was still a walk just to reach it and by this point, Susie's tolerance was out. With no food they stuffed handfuls of snow into their mouths to melt to keep them going as the pitiful band of survivors exited the tree line and began the steep climb up the hill.
"Oh, God, we have to climb that?" a wounded survivor sank to his knees in the snow and was too much for them. Muscling her way up to the front of the column, she confronted her schoolmate, "Calvin, we need to stop and rest right now" but the boy would not listen and kept on walking. Angrily she curled her lips and snarled, "For god's sake, just stop!" He did stop and just stared blankly into the snow covered woods.
"When we reach the top of that hill" he growled, "We'll stop for as long as you like."
Bitterly she nodded, turned and went back down the line to help the others as they crossed a saddle from the tree line to the base of the hill where immediately the steep grade of the slope began to tell. Two fell from exhaustion and Hobbes picked them up, one in each arm, and carried them the rest of the way. Near the top they collapsed and huddled together for warmth. A biting wind was coming from the west, from down the length of the creek where the trees were not obstructing its path forcing those with strength left to begin cutting holes into the snow and building up walls forming crude igloos to protect them from the elements.
Sitting near the crown of the hill with a handful of snow, nibbling on it freely, Calvin contemplated deeply. His fort, his labor and mind, had been overtaken by snow goons, a creature he created. "How could this have happened?" muttering just enough for Hobbes to listen whom was more concerned for those entrusted with their care. The tiger sat next to him, "We've got seven, not counting us." It was not the answer the boy was looking for.
"How? Hobbes. How could they defeat our defenses that we have worked so hard to make? It was as if it didn't matter at all," Calvin slowly removed his red beanie and let it fall to his feet. He began to fight back tears.
His trusty companion begged to differ. Calmly, he stated his own opinion. "It was working out lovely for awhile, but it was Mortimer and his band that broke and ran inside, allowing them to get inside."
"Mortimer" Calvin hissed, the very name was synonymous with betrayal and cowardice, "If he was ever much a man, he would have died from the start."
"So, my brave colonel, what do we do now?" Hobbes let out a sigh as his gaze looked towards where the Alamo was. Vaguely he could see the roof tops of the neighborhood, shielded mostly by the tall trees. There was no more light coming from it. No more sounds. Groans of wounded and triumphed goons had since diminished meaning they had moved on. The sun had since gone down as well, casting an inky blackness over the forest. Temperatures immediately began to drop with it. The holes being dug resembled a sleep over on the snowy slopes. No blankets, some had lost mittens in their run, but all at least had jackets and head gear. Huddled together, in a solid mass inside the cavity of snow they tried to sleep. Calvin snuggled against Hobbes's belly, really warm there as the hours began to tick away. No one bothered to keep look out, too tired, their adrenalin of battle gone.
When the sun finally did come back up, the survivors were still there, neatly huddled against one another. Hobbes opened his mouth in a wide yawn, stretching his arms upwards. He was awake, soon after came Susie. Though numb by the cold, she was still alive and moving about, awakening everyone else. Calvin seemed to be the last to stir, eye lids heavy, mouth hanging by its hinges. "Smack smack. What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
No one answered, too numb and hungry to do so. Some took snow into their mouths and let it melt for water, but otherwise that was breakfast for them. Hobbes stood erect, eyes gazing through the dense, naked trees, "The night is over, a new day had begun, what do we do?" his breath came out as gray wisps that quickly disappeared.
"We could return to the Alamo. Maybe the goons vacated it" Hobbes suggested.
"Maybe, or maybe they have set up another ambush for us," Bryant rolled his eyes.
Calvin rubbed his chin, "Yeah, but maybe they left food in the kitchen" thoughts of fresh bread or canned fruit cocktail caused him to lick his chapped lips. "Let's get going then" agreeing in an instant, "We're going back." telling them all as he rushed back down the hill. "We're going back to the Alamo".
"But, why?" Susie whined.
"All of our supplies are in there. What good would it be to those goons? Only we could understand how to use them. Not only that, all of our medical supplies are in there, plus gloves, and boots, and scarves..." his rambling went on for a minute. It was not the fine words he selected that inspired, or his passionate plea, but everyone just wanted Calvin to just shut up with his high pitch declaration that they all agreed to go back.
Retracing their steps, their shoe prints were still visible after a night of travel; this little band reached the small stream that was very close to the walls. "Okay, hold up here. I'll go up there and take a look around." Hobbes easily bounded over the stream, dropped to his belly, and began to crawl up the incline to do some scouting. Those left behind hid themselves behind some trees as Calvin began to think of another scheme. This former fort was no longer tenable in this condition with the wall damaged in many places, at least two catapults broken, and far too few people to defend every inch. Observing from afar, all the windows in the back of the house were smashed, a single rope from a second story window fluttered in the breeze meaning that someone tried to run. No telling though what or who was left.
In a few minutes the tiger bounded back across the stream reporting all was clear. Sighs of relief swept through the group for they finally had a chance to get warm inside heated rooms and fill their stomachs with food. Struggling up the rocky slope, the first sight they saw was of horror. In many places, heaps of piled snow and tree branches marked where snow goons had fallen in battle by the dozen There were few places in the compound that did not mark the site of a dead goon. Going though one of many gaps that they had created in the wall the group came across a torn jacket, perhaps from the catapult crew of the South wall that had a name written on the collar but it was ripped up with just a "J" readable. The shed was smashed to pieces and all its tools gone. What would goons have to do with metal tools? Going further towards the house they found some more mitten and beanies, and a single boot. There was some small pools of blood created trails to the outside.
Investigating further, Hobbes found those ice stakes that were implanted in the backyard had succeeded in impaling two goons. Calvin muttered to himself "At least not all was wasted" as he stepped through the back door, the very same where they made their break out attempt. The fire was out, needed to be restarted in order to warm up everyone. Susie hustled them in, found scraps of wood, and managed to set it alight before darting into the kitchen to find whatever food was left. A further delight was that the power still worked, though the thermostat was smashed it was still warmer inside than out.
Like a zombie, Calvin went back outside to tour the walls. Uneasily tailing was Hobbes. Goon bodies were strewn all over, in some sparse whilst others, where defense was stiff lay in heaps. The first place they saw was Ryan's lunette which was nothing more than a flat impact of snow on sidewalk. All of their bodies were gone, just some articles of clothing and some dabble of bright red blood on brown snow. Candace's position was next. It was severely damaged. Placing a foot on it caused a chunk of the rampart to collapse. Sighing in disappoint, both officers took a step back to catch a full view of the North wall. Though made of bright red, strong brick, it did not hold up well against the snow goons. Taking a moment to reflect, Hobbes glanced over his shoulder, "Take a look at this" walking towards the house. Looking as well, Calvin saw the remains of his catapult which was smash to tinder. In his white paws, he held a piece of the strong arm as his friend trotted up. "Bet we got a lot with this" smirking.
"Bet we did" Calvin muttered. A stick then fell from the sky, landing on the ground next to them. Looking at it, then at the sky there was an amazing scene, "Is it safe to come down?" It was Billy, the sentry.
"Yes, it is" responded Calvin, whom rushed away to retrieve a ladder for him. His body was nearly frozen stiff, that blue snow jacket could only do so much for him. Hobbes took him up in his arms and carried him inside to warm up, leaving Calvin alone for the moment. He looked at the stick that had fallen. Attached to it was the black shirt, torn and crisp from frost, he smiled and went inside with it.
Susie had taken out a considerable pile of canned goods and placed them on the table. A lot had been lost, smashed and ripped open, leaving a sticky mess on the floor, but there was enough to feed this company for a good few days. But there was no time to dally about. Soon, that army will come back here either goons or looters. They needed to flee. But to where? With his banner clutched in his arms, the boy came into the room to find everyone relaxing, now warm and blood moving. Those two that were wounded also were being treated with bandages. Billy was found, his clothes removed all the way to boxers and given warm, discarded ones that were left inside. Sitting beside him, Calvin showed the flag to everyone.
"I could let them have it" chattering between his teeth. "But, this stand of colors wasn't much of a meaning now. Just a lost cause." Their fort was taken, many are missing, some perhaps forever. Entrusting the banner to Billy once more, our duo ventured upstairs to see what else was left. Each room showed an individual battle, defiance, cowardice, heroism, and fear. Bathroom itself marked a single man's last stand. Door was crashed in, ice and snow lay almost knee deep. How he ended, no one knew but him. Inside the parent's bed room laid testament to a brutal last stand as well. The sick bed was completely flattened, sheets ripped and thrown. It was Hobbes whom found the bathroom. Blood was smeared on the walls, and chunks of snow and melted ice damped the carpet around them. Whatever happened here was brief but vicious.
Two hours passed, everyone was warm now, ready for travel now adorn with proper winter gear. As they prepared to march, Hobbes took it upon himself to make one final assessment of the fort, and make a count of all the enemy dead as well as any available forms of transportation that could be salvaged or spruced together. They had but five sleds. Meals of canned fruit and water were given out for everyone to carry and those extra was placed on the sleds. Wolfing down the contents of one can of beef; Hobbes took notice of Susie, whom emerged from the kitchen, a pad of paper tucked close to her chest by both arms.
His jowls full, he could not ask, just watched as the little dark haired girl walked and sat down beside the group that had gathered around the fire. A small wire bound notepad, tattered, that had been damaged by water. "I used this to keep track of everyone here at this fort. This Alamo." Sullen, her voice breaking and to near tears. Eyes were fixated as she opened it up. On it were names in neat blue hand writing. Every soul, all fifty, were named, thus began a special roll call, to find out whom was left and possibly find out what happened to others.
"Candace...Gone"
"Billy." "Here"
"Calvin." "Here"
"Hobbes." "Here"
"Mortimer..."
"O'Rourke..."
"Travis..."
"Luke..."
"Gerald..."
Reading on and on this list, it became apparent of their loss. Only ten were left, seven out of fifty. Perhaps some, those that were last seen fleeing into the woods in other directions made it to some haven, however there were some like Candace that was tossed like a bale of hay into the arms of hundreds of snow goons. Making a mark with a pen beside each name that did not respond Susie broken down and wept when they finished and seeing their loss.
Too depressed to listen to it any more, Hobbes returned to his duty of counting up the dead of the enemy that lay in heaps at his feet. He began to count, "one...two...three..." walking through, stepping over bodies, fighting against a numb biting wind. His count rose to "ninety nine...one hundred..." and he had yet to leave the back yard.
Inside, the company began to pack for an arduous trip to nowhere. Five sleds, two damaged sleds, were all that could be compiled to move supplies. Moving out was easier said than done. There was no direction to go, everyone wanted to go in different ways, but each one was something that Calvin refused to listen to. Again, he had his own plan of movement and he did not care to listen to other thoughts, he wanted to go, and that was South, through the woods. So, everything inside was a mess when the tiger finally returned. "Where were you?" asked Calvin, angrily.
"Taking a count"
"Of what?"
"The enemy dead"
His attitude immediately changed, "How many?" now curious to know.
"About 800, then I gave up"...