War with the Deranged Killer Mutant Monster Snow Goons
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Calvin, Hobbes, Moe, Susie, they are owned by Bill Watterson.
Moe didn't like Calvin before, during school, and now he was on his turf, his home. Calvin didn't want to be here, but there was no other way. It was either here or out there with the snowmen. It was an all day affair as the old barricade was taken now and replaced with a more suitable snow wall, it was done with very little commentary between the two. Susie helped nurse the sick and wounded inside with a dwindling amount of food, bandages, and medicines. A large amount of rubble had collected in the center compound, waiting to be disposed of as the rest was burned for heat.
When it was said and done, the garrison, of such, collapsed and sulked back inside to warm themselves and wait. Morale was low. Children knew nothing but defeat and privation at the hands of those snow goons. Parents were gone, they had lost the Alamo and many more of their friends as well.
"We should do something" Hobbes shivered as Calvin, taking a last parting gander at the walls came to go inside.
"Like what?" he asked.
"There should be a game, or something that will cheer them up"
"Has the cold gotten to your head?"
"Listen, there should be a game or some type of event that will cheer them up" Hobbes said with a toned up voice, trying to get his point across.
"Like what?" Calvin asked, uncertain.
"How about Calvinball?"
"Yeah, Calvinball! I'll get the masks, you get the ball" the boy ordered. In a split second, both departed in separate directions to obtain their goals.
Slivers of cloth were found in the rubble. They would make suitable masks. Carving out eye holds with his pocket knife, Calvin made one for him and one for his buddy, whom returned with a suitable ball, a basketball.
"It's all I could find" he said, presenting the ball.
"That will do" Calvin replied, "Here's your mask"
Dawning their black, Lone ranger, type masks, the two were not done just yet to begin their game.
"We need a flag" Calvin spoke, then remembered the flag Billy had saved from the Alamo. Though black, soaked in water and crisp from ice, it was idle for the boy's intentions.
"All right, now we can start!" Hobbes announced, holding the basketball firmly with both paws.
"I got the flag of defiance!" Calvin yelled, "If I cross into the invisible zone, I win ten points!" with that, he began a mad dash towards the back door of Moe's house.
In Calvinball, there were no fixed rules, save that you can never play the same way twice. Other than that, you make up all rules as you go. With the boy about to reach the "invisible zone," Hobbes had to devise a way to stop him. With a swift wind up, he unleashed his powerful weapon, the basketball, which was fully inflated at the runner. In a split second of air time, the ball found it's mark, right up against Calvin's temple, knocking the boy down sideways onto the soft snow with a hollow THUD. In the fall, the Flag of Defiance left his grasp and lay against his prone body. Unconcerned, Hobbes approached Calvin and picked up the flag.
"New rule," he said, "if the Flag of Defiance is captured, then the loser must sing the "I'm Sorry Song" with a smile on his face.
Recovering quickly, Calvin staggered to his feet, found the Calvinball, and, with a deranged look on his face, yelled, "You'll be the one that is SORRY!" A wild chase begin in the compound, boy chasing tiger, oaths were exchanged, alerting those inside to come watch as the two ran side to side, up and down, all over the interior of the fort. They did not witness the start of this game, thus, they'd no idea what was happening. It looked like they had gone mad.
"The cold must have gotten to them" said Miller.
Susie rolled her eyes, "Trust me, you wouldn't know if the cold gotten to him or not."
An hour passed, and the boy was still chasing Hobbes all over, still not letting fly with his Calvinball until the ideal shot presented itself. Winded, Hobbes began to slow down, but never lost touch with his flag. With the hunter behind him, no where else to hide, he decided to become defiant like his flag and let his opponent take his shot.
"You're not going to run?" huffed Calvin as he closed in on his prey.
"No, a real man doesn't run" Hobbes said proudly.
"Very well" winding up the ball, then let it fly with as much strength as he could muster behind it. The ball flew straight and true. Instead of waiting to be hit, the cunning tiger dodged the ball at the last second, scooped up a ball of snow and heaved it back, hitting Calvin once again in the face.
"Darn you!" raising a hand up from the snow.
Throughout the rest of the day and till the approaching dusk, the two exchanged oaths, fire, and snow, but over all were enjoying themselves, forgetting that there was an enemy outside those walls. Curious spectators gathered to watch, but no one wanted to join because it looked way too dangerous for their taste.
Time came for them to stop. Exhausted, fatigued, worn out, the two tallied up their score.
"I got oogey to boogie"
"I already had boogie!" Calvin whined.
It was a small victory, but had no direct influence on the war, but, did bulk up their moral. There was always time for Calvinball.
Nightfall came, that second group, promised by Moe, should be here soon. To those that survived the Alamo would remittence in the time that Ryan and his tiny band managed to reach Susie's house. It was a heartyboost to their moral, but most knew it only added fat to the feast. What was so important about this group that had Moe worked up in anticipation for their arrival? Must be something big. Perhaps they carry a secret weapon, or they have vital information. Night fall fell, the temperature as well. Two guards paced around on opposite sides of the fort as everyone else bundled up inside for warmth. A light wind blew from the West as a snow began to trickle down from a dark, large black, overcast. Vincent was one of those sentries. As stepped over the new blanket of snow building up in the courtyard, he saw a flicker of light from beyond the walls to the East. Looking out into the darkness, he saw the glint again, along with a face of a human. It was the second group. Running at full speed, Vincent rushed into the house, throwing open the sliding door, causing a panic at first till he could soothe them. Cheers and rejoice as the children rushed outside, disregarding they could to see this band of rebels. Ropes, steps, anything that would allow them access inside were thrown over because the main gate was permanently barricaded.
A stream of children, much older than Calvin, came over the wall. Once their bodies straddled it, they just slide down inside. The tallest person there, a brown haired, brown eyed boy whom saw Calvin as soon as he saw him. "Hello, im Miller" offering a hand in which Calvin took.
"I'm Calvin" as he shook his hand, his eyes looked at the many individuals that had followed Miller into the fort. There were many, far many than that was previously believed. All were big, huge, at least eight or nine year olds they were, and with that age came much privilege, for some carried weapons far better than sticks and rocks.
Moe asked Miller, "You made it. Did you see any of those snowmen out there?"
Miller replied, "Some, but they kept at a distance. They don't want to mess with my group" with a wide smile.
"Why is that?" Hobbes asked.
"Because my group are the best" though he may have just been bluffing.
"What do you call your little group?" Susie asked.
"We are the Greys" proclaiming proudly. Behind him came a muffled cheer as they tried to keep warm.
Taking a gander at all of this bag of rabble, not a single one of them wore an article of clothing that was gray. Most had colorful snow jackets caked in ice and particles of snow, black beanies for head covers, red or black mittens, and snow boots.
"Why do you call yourself the greys?" finally asking, knowing it was on the minds of everyone else.
"Just sounded cool" Miller shrugged.
There was silence at first, then their lips cracked and laughter as theses boys were allowed inside. Now reinforced with an additional fifty people, Moe and others began to think of turning the tables on their frozen foes in a devilish raid that will try and locate their base, if there was any. Once it is found, this war could be put down.
Everyone was tired. Tired of battle, tired from moving, tired of everything. What food could be spared was given to the Greys as they sought out a place to rest. Their bodies had been on the run for a day, out running, out smarting goons which Miller confessed were getting smarter by the minute. No longer were they dumb beasts, but intelligent beasts. Sooner or later, they would find this band inside Moe's fort, and they will swarm it like they did at the Alamo. Even with numbers over fifty, it wouldn't do much against an army in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. Even if they had catapults, it wouldn't do much to stop them. Like a wall of mud stopping an approaching tide.
The idea of a counter attack hung loosely on Miller's mind as he sat down on the hard carpet of Moe's living room. A broken television flickered, reception fuzzy and broken. It appeared to be a news report, but nothing could be made out, only every other word.
Frustrated over lack of information, the cramped conditions, hunger, and fatigue, Calvin stomped outside, proclaiming loudly that, "Im not going to stay in another fort any longer!"
He promptly jumped the wall. Baffled, Hobbes jumped as well to see what his friend was up to.
"We can't stay in another fort as long as they roam around through the woods and in the houses around us. They can easily surround and crush us like they nearly did last time, Hobbes. We must attack them." Calvin said as he sloshed around the fort's outskirts.
"But how?" Hobbes asked, arms folded to keep warm against the winds.
"They must have a fort of their own. A base where they make more and more of each other, and maybe have prisoners."
"If that is true, then we must find it" Hobbes concurred.
"Yes, but where might it be?"
"I believe it's in the woods." Hobbes started, "Where else but a place that has keeps out others? The woods is a perfect place"
"Yes, but how can we find such a place? The forest is huge. It would take days to find it" Calvin asked.
"Why should we look for it? Instead, we let the goons lead us right to it" Hobbes said. An idea was forming in his head.
"How do you suppose we do that?" Calvin asked.
"Simple. Give them what they want. Bait" with a grin.
Calvin smiled as well, liking the sound of it already. "Very well then. I'll need you to scout beyond that clearing, there" pointing to a crescent moon shaped, snow covered, clearing, "see if you can find a place where men can hide from your catapults."
"My catapults?" he asked.
"Yes, afterwards, I need for you to build as many as you can. All hopes of this to work rest upon your catapults."
"Nice to know im so needed" Hobbes smirked.
Both returned to the fort, Calvin triumptly entered Moe's house, ignoring his wrath as he gathered both Moe and Miller together to present his plan. Reluctant and weary to listen, the two older kids groaned as Calvin scribbled on a piece of paper.
"My plan is simple," he said, "I need for your Greys to go into the woods, find the enemy, and lure them into the clearing. There, Hobbes will hit them with his catapults." Taking it to the point.
Miller wasn't impressed with this, "How do you know the goons will follow?"
"Goons love humans. They love them. So, we give them what they want. We tease them and make them the victim of their own vice".
Moe, in his animal mind, liked the idea, "Those twinkies will never know what hit them" in a deep voice, but Miller was still reluctant, "How do you know if the catapults will work?" he asked Calvin.
"Hobbes is the best when it comes to building things, especially catapults."
As he was gloating about his furry companion, Calvin knew that already, Hobbes was working his way into the clearing that was presented to him earlier. His trained eye was looking for many things. First, if any goon had been there recently, second, a reasonable place for his catapults to be positioned. What looked like an abandoned ditched sat right at the edge of the clearing, where the ground began to slope gently downwards. It was just wide and deep enough to room children of Miller's size.
"What will this plan do for us?" Moe asked. "I believe they have a base. Once we spring the trap, we'll purposely leave a few survivors and they will flee back into the woods. We'll follow, and they'll lead us right for their base."
"How do you know they will?" Moe asked, "What makes you think they will be scared?"
"I've seen them. When he hit them with a catapult for the first time, they ran" Calvin said, "They can run, and we'll make them. This plan rested mostly on the Greys. "Why us?" asked Miller. The answer was simple. Every single person in that company was over the age of seven, the oldest was 11 being Miller, and with that age came some responsibility that attracted the loud mouth boy, namely the assorted weapons, air rifles, small caliber pistols and rifles that belonged to their parents, now in their hands. It will be a deciding factor. Rifles were far superior to rocks and sticks.
The only wish Miller had as leader of this company was that he be allowed to rest his friends for at least a few hours. "Till dawn" he said, "then we'll go." Agreed.
It was then that Susie stepped forward into the meeting. "We'll need more food and medical supplies. While you guys are off playing army against those things, perhaps some of you can find us some more."
Calvin thought hard, "Hmmmmm, two missions at once?" the idea was bold. If the attack should fail, then the party could be destroyed the goons. It's a risk, but he was willing to take it. "Take as many as you need" he told Susie whom smiled and left to round up those of her choosing. Throughout the remainder of the night, the garrison waited impatiently.
The only soul moving about outside was Hobbes as he tried to scrounge up enough parts to assemble catapults. Will all the junk taken down from the barricades, there was plenty of wood, rope, and nails to make two small ones, just slightly bigger than his own body. Upon trying them, their arms were strong, snapping in an instant when their lanyards were pulled. "This might work" the tiger said as he finished up. Though not pretty looking as the others, as long as they worked was all that matters. When they were finished, the tiger slumped down across them and fell asleep in the snow.
Morning came, no alarm clock this time, just the slow mutters and moans as the children began to stir inside. It was rather congested inside, everyone slept head to toe, some slumbered underneath Moe's bed, which wasn't pleasant. Already up early, Susie the mother, opened up canned food, all that was left, and began to serve it to the hungry garrison. Just a mouth full of jam on bread, or slivers of canned meat, that was it. She worried that this mission might fail and they will begin to starve. Not only that, but the wounded needed bandages and medicine which were now out.
Prodding them awake, Miller got his Greys, all fifty of them, outside with their weapons and prepared them to march. Most were reluctant to go, they didn't like this so called plan. Miller promised them, though, that it was their chance for revenge. Fueled by this, the group climbed the wall outside, formed up into a ball for warmth and crossed the tree approaching the woods. It was near the very site that Calvin and his group emerged from just a few days prior. Close behind was Hobbes, manhandling two weapons with a gathered team of five total. Behind them was a forage party of five more with bags, sleds, and backpacks. Five more slipped over the opposite wall to raid the other houses next door. So far, the operation was a success. However, Calvin did not go with them. Instead, he, Moe, and Susie remained behind to observe all of this from on top of Moe's roof. Approaching the clearing, Miller halted his men and took a look at the tree line. Not a soul was around. Hobbes pushed and pulled his weapons, finding their spot in the clearing. Everything was in place. Already, foragers were going into the houses, looking for food, now was the time to attack.
Drawing a deep breath, Miller covered his face with a scarf, turned to his friends and told them to follow. Greys went forth onto the tree line. They were ill, weary, scared. What lay beyond? Behind them were Hobbes's catapults with crew waiting to be put into place. Their actions were being observed from Moe's roof top not more than 300 yards away to the North east. Susie, Moe, and Calvin huddled together from the cold as the Greys finally began to press forwards into the woods at precisely 10 o' clock. As they went in, Hobbes moved his weapons into the vacant field the Greys once occupied and began to set up to fire. Stones, caked in ice, were loaded onto the strong arms, lanyards were readied. Miller encouraged his friends onward, but their fear of the enemy was too much and their advance stalled after not going far. Hobbes could see them with his eyes, their back facing them. "Those sorry excuse for soldiers" he grumbled. Miller was afraid too, but his job was to find those goons. What he needed was inspiration. Pushing his way through his men, the captain stood before his company, "I know you are scared" he said "I am too, but you want to die as cowards or as men!" some grumbling came from them, Miller sighed, turned away from them and began to walk deeper, alone. Step after step, his wondered if any were following. After ten, he didn't care, he would fight the goons himself. If he were to die, at least it would be for honor. Foot steps approached rapidly through the crunch of snow, there was Gregory. He walked along side Miller, then another Grey, and another, and another.
They disappeared. Hobbes looked with a sigh. He had words to say, but didn't utter a sound as his weapons were finally ready to unleash devastation. The Greys moved through the woods, their leaves dead, trunks bare and plain. Just 100 yards in, and true to his word, there was the small gully that Hobbes discovered. "There it is" smirked the captain. True to the plan, Miller chose a select few to go into the gully and beyond to try and find, and lure any goons to this area for an ambush.
The walls were steep, and almost bare, but the older children had little difficult in descending down then crossing to the other side. As their comrades vanished, the remaining Greys waited under concealment. With verbal orders in his head, queen, a seven year old blonde haired, green eyed youth came dashing towards Hobbes with a report on what had taken place.
"All is well" the tiger smirked. In deed it was. not a single goon was seen or smelled. Just four in number, the scouts fanned out in a wide arc, never losing sight of one another. It was easy in a forest as dense as this, so stops were frequent as the boys shouted to try and locate one another. Miller didn't mind this at all, in fact, he encouraged it. The more noise they made was bound to pick up the attention of the goons and thus lure them into his trap. One or two would be a small victory for their minds, but he wanted a much bigger prize, he wanted hundreds of them to fall to his friends. It was all in his mind. His lust for revenge began to cloud his thinking as a cry went up, "They're coming!". his four scouts came charging back in full flight, through the gully and up the embankment. "How many did you see?" he captain asked one, "Many" he replied.
"How many?" with wide eyes, in disbelief.
"I'd say a whole army" hoarse.
Those words sent a chill up those that heard. At first, he didn't believe it, until up came a roar and through the woods came, in fact, a whole army of deranged killer mutant monster snow goons of immense size and shape charging hell bent for their bait that had now turned the tables on them. Goons rapidly reached the embankment, and began to scale it, but their arms were too weak to lift their bodies up such a slippery surface. Miller looked upon them with pity, "Now is our chance. Open up!" his Greys sprung up, with rifles and pistols, bats, and rocks and began to blaze away with ferocity and anger. Now was the time for revenge, they all took it. Firing down with no remorse, the Greys watched with delight as dozens of goons fell under their weapons.
Running back, the greys kept ground between their pursuers. After fifty yards, they stopped and fired another ragged volley. Here and there, an enemy fell, but more kept pushing through the brush and trees, their roars echoed in the forest and in the children's ears. "Go, go!" shouted Miller, pushing his men back towards the fall back point. as he watched those lumbering beasts push through towards him, he grinned. They didn't suspect a trap about to spring.
Here at last, the shallow ditch was reached. One by one, the Greys jumped in and laid on their bellies, weapons resting on the rim, ready to fire after being hastily loaded. Miller was the last to come in. After getting a quick head count, to make sure all were there, he waved his mitten to signal the catapults to ready with canister. Still unsuspecting, the goons continued to venture forth, pushing aside dead stumps, breaking low hanging branches with their massive bodies, their immense girth carved shallow ditches in the snow.
"Come on, come on" under his breath, Miller waited, unflinching as his enemy come closer. Twenty yards beyond the stake, then ten, then, the first crossed it. "Now!" shouting, holding his right arm upright. All at once, the catapults snapped and unloaded their contents that zipped over the prone Grey's heads like low flying birds. Hearing a cry, the goons paused, baffled, only to be rained upon by many rocks that cut directly into their bodies and passed through completely. Stones rolled their mass, taking down several at a time. Heads were splattered, limbs ripped away. What was once a hideous horde of dozens was now withered down to a few single individuals whom were luckily to remain untouched, or were standing wounded, and in disbelief.
"Rise up and shoot them!" Miller said, rising up himself. His friends, blood pumping, teeth gritting, jumped up as well and commenced shooting or throwing stone. Hit again hard by the humans, the goons turned and began to flee, but to the dismay and pleasure of their foe. "We can't let them get away!" Gregory cried, pointing at the few survivors that were running away into the depths of the forest. Others agreed. Before Miller could lasso his friends, many sprang forwards, retracing their steps back into the woods and came upon the slaughter that the catapults had made. Many were wounded, dying, groaning. Instead of passing them by, and chasing after fair game, the rouge Greys paused, then began to purposely load their weapons, pick up stone and stick and began to murder the goons in heathen fashion. "This for my father!" Gregory yelled as he pointing his rifle into the face of a goon then pulled the trigger. "Take their heads!" Henry prodded, stabbing another wounded goon. For them, their was no rules to warfare, save their own, it was kill or be killed to them. After every single goon was slaughtered, the rogues turned their attention to those that ran. Miller vainly tried to get them back, "No! Stop! get back here," but some did not listen, their thrust for revenge was too much. With wide eyes, Miller saw some of his friends vanish into the woods. Sensing a trap, he dared not venture in himself. Rather, satisfied over what an accomplishment his company had achieved, Miller, Captain of the Greys, got his friends to move back towards the fort of Moe.