Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield or anything else except for Dilger. He is my creation. Everything else is owned by Bill Watterson, Jim Davis, and Discovery Channel respectfully.
Calvin's attack through Hobbes's crater had punched deeply into Garfield's defenses. Hundreds of his soldiers were killed or missing up to this point in time. His entire 2nd Division was utterly broken and sent reeling back towards downtown Indianapolis after a most gruesome fight. Even his Black Cat Brigade was routed, joining in a mass of once soldiers now fleeing for their very lives through streets and alley ways. Officers imposed some sense of order by rallying some of these broken ranks into a thin line that contained Calvin's breakthrough for remainder of this night which past uneasily.
Finding a small, abandoned, shack near his lines, Calvin sank into a deep sleep, face smeared with powder, caked in mud, feet weighed down by such and hands raw by handling weapons. Outside came howls of wounded both friend and foe alike. Stretcher bearers were working over time in removing such bodies from that crater. An entire carpet had been made lining it from crest to trough. Appalling as it was, cats seemed to have taken worse of it. Still, Garfield wasn't out just yet. Much more heavy fighting lay ahead as dawn broke over this capital.
As soon as those rays of warmth touched earth, shooting erupted all around as squads of soldiers, volunteers, and militia began to find one another. Despite his effort to maintain a sense of order, to have distinguishable lines, Calvin awoke to find it broken, small groups of rag tags now moving, at will, through Indianapolis's streets. Dilger had established his head quarters inside remnants of Fort No. 6, having it's large guns turned about to use against their former owners. Before settling down that night, Dilger sent out a message promising to lend artillery support for tomorrows operation. However, that plan was thrown out when fighting broke out. Groups were running amuck, some in confiscated cars in a comical display of cops and robbers. Rousing up from his sleep, Calvin, half starved and parched of thirst, moved out of his shack in search of something to eat. Bakeries, shops, drug stores, were all ransacked, contents destroyed, spilled, or taken. There was nothing to stave off his hunger. His lips were licked by his dry tongue looking at mounds of candy, chocolate and hard, sitting in filth and muck, never to be devoured.
Far removed from him, Garfield now finally came to grasp what had transpired that night. As his nemesis sulked about in search of food, Garfield was in search of an escape. As his second division melted away like ice in summer, he sought to salvage what he could. Hundreds of wounded were sitting in wait at train depots to be seen back to Muncie for medical treatment. Mixed in with them were sulkers, cowards, faking illness and wounds to avoid fighting. As comrades fought just yards away, giving ground to their adversary, no hope of a victory seemed realized.
"All was lost" said one soldier.
Having spent a night lurking in alley ways, avoid patrols and fire fights, Hobbes, eyes wearing bags from deprived sleep, entered Garfield's makeshift head quarters at Indianapolis's outskirts, near Calvin old home. Everything was in shambles. Orderlies were moving to and fro carrying messages from field commanders. All of which were piling up on Garfield's desk. Once great leader was suffering from a severe migraine, refused to answer one of them. His eyes were blood shot, complexion pale, frame weak. Recognizing Hobbes standing before him, Garfield summoned up his composure to try and hold some shred of royalty.
"Mr. Hobbes. We have a bit of a situation here." sitting perfectly erect in a flimsy metal collapsible chair, far removed from his gold throne of old, his statue like body, overlooking a pale sheet of paper marked with colored pencils of where his troops were. It was poor by comparison and far from accurate.
"So it seems" he growled in response.
"I have many wounded that need to be evacuated back to Muncie. See to it that it's done. Several locomotives are coming with reinforcements. Once they are empty, board them then see yourself out as well."
Turning away, Hobbes left head quarters without saying another word to anyone. "Here we go again" he thought quietly, strolling through mayhem at a grand level. As far as his keen eyes could see, there was battle or consequences of it. Sad state their revolution was. It seems that just a few weeks ago, there was peace on earth, a heavenly balance of humanity and order between pets and humans. Now, Garfield had shredded that balance by proclaiming himself emperor over a revolution he conjured up. What sparked this was a mystery to this tiger as he entered Indianapolis's train yard. Stack almost like cordwood were wounded. No guards, just a few workers, some human, and nurses trying to care for them. No trains had yet arrived. Grim as it was, it was getting worse as dogs began to encroach closer and closer, even a few stray artillery rounds impacted nearby, startling an already shaky group.
"Well, Hobbes" he thought standing on a loading dock, waiting for his promised trains, "How are you going to get out of this one?"
Kari was wondering those sentiments as well, as she and members of her party were abruptly taken from their cells. To where was unknown. Perhaps Garfield planned to move them out as well, depriving dogs of valuable intelligence or moral boosting, or something far sinister. Ever since turning down their leader's attempts to win her over, Kari was forced to listen as her friends were tortured. Deprived of sleep, food, and water, they were now forced to march under an ungodly hot sun on a dusty trail as sounds of battle resonated behind them. It was of some comfort to them knowing that someone was out searching for them, but up to this point in time, their minds were in shambles. Cats, once pets, were now bearing weapons and knew how to use them.
Hobbes had no schedule in moving prisoners, all he cared for was his wounded, and now his trains were running half an hour late, sun was now settling. It still didn't put a damper on anything. Moving from street to street, dogs bagged groups of prisoners or individuals cut off from their units. Resistance was ultimately weak or nonexistent. Where was this promised fight they wanted?
Some revolution this turned out to be. Many thought that it would all be over in a matter of hours or just days if this progressed kept up. Calvin hoped so as well. They destroyed his home, his parents were missing, his friend was as well. Everything in his life was destroyed, all he had was a one inkling of a hope that his friend, Hobbes, was still alive and true.
As he moved with his soldiers past smoldering ruins of homes and cars, Calvin finally came across his old elementary school. To his dismay, it was still intact.
"Why god!" he began to scream on his hands and knees, "Why? Of all this war and shooting you spared this prison! Why?"
Aside from outbursts of profanity and obscene gestures, Calvin managed to hold together his sanity as his followers moved further and further into it's suburbs. To his surprise, not a single shot was thrown against him. It was a cake walk. Speaking of cake, as night settled, several large caches of food were liberated intent on feeding Garfield's soldiers. Instead, it went right back to feeding his nemesis. Night fall put an end to any more fighting. By then, virtually all of Indianapolis was back in dog hands. Garfield's bold plan of forts and defenses had bought him less than a day and cost him an entire division, most of whom were captured or surrendered. Worn down and having no enemy to fight, Calvin decided it was best to settle down tonight, let his followers dig in and eat a good meal. Soft, moist cake and milk was a fine meal indeed, just wish he could share it with Hobbes whom was still waiting for Garfield's promised reinforcements. By now, his train yard was overloaded with wounded and refugees seeking asylum. Snipers were now at work picking off medics and wounded as well despite many attempts to wave red cross flags.
When this day was finally over, Hobbes was sinking into a great fit of despair. Why did he chose to do this? He meant go from line to line. It was dangerous work. One slip up and he could find himself with a noose around his neck. A pillar of white smoke signaled an untimely arrival of Garfield's promised reinforcements. Shackled to each flat bed was not soldiers, but vehicles, strange ones. Watching them as they passed, Hobbes was mystified. What were they? Before he could question a conductor or teamster, they were roaring off by an ingenious method of unloading. Between each space of car was a large slab of metal that made it continuous until it's very end where a ramp allowed them to come off. This simple device Hobbes more time to begin loaded his wounded yet he couldn't shake a sense of fear in him. Those were armored vehicles now bearing towards his friend. They didn't stand a chance.
It was dark, Garfield didn't want to risk a night action for fear of confusion. ""My officers couldn't find their way to a kitchen with a map" he argued. So instead, he moved his armored force forward then waited until day light to catch them off guard. As luck would have it, he moved them to a ridge line, a unnamed ridge overlooking Indianapolis. While they moved, on it's opposite side was Calvin himself and his following in their dugouts, unable to hear their loud engines or clank of treads due to an acustic blackout, a strange phenomina where sound is deflected.
As he ate away on his rations, sitting in a newly dug hole of his own, Calvin basked in fruit when someone tapped his head. Looking up, it was Dilger, full of smiles. He sat next to Calvin whom sighed, face blank, looking at this ridge before him, oblivious of what was behind it.
"I can't believe that fat tabby. He practically handed back this town." Calvin shrugged.
"Exactly. Once we punched through those forts, we just rolled right over him. Cats ran away towards Muncie." Dilger concurred.
Both officers sat in relative silence. A major, long drawn slug fest that they feared would destroy their army never materialized. Now left in possession of this town, Indiana's capital, both wondered what should be done next. Their dogs were bone tired, hungry, and there were many wounded and dead that needed to be tended to. However, Garfield again was severely beaten. His forces were pushed out and were vulnerable to attack. If they strike now, before having a chance to sink into Muncie, this war could be over soon.
"I don't think patrols will be necessary tonight" Calvin stated, "We are all bone tired and our enemy is long gone."
Dilger wasn't so optimistic about all this, something had to be up Garfield's sleeve. "I think we should be cautious. Perhaps we should move back in town and wait for reinforcements. Calvin merely shrugged off his proposal.
"What if they come at us with tanks?" Dilger asked.
Calvin couldn't contain himself, "Tanks? Can you imagine cats driving tanks? They would need crates to sit on just to work it's steering wheel!" he began to demonstrate between outbursts of high, hyena like, laughs. That didn't help Dilger's predicament. He ventured into Fort No. 2 to see it's artillery compliment. I didn't have any. No ramparts were constructed yet. So he went to Number 3 just south of this one. It to was deprived of artillery. He settled down to a fitful sleep inside Fort No. 3, waiting for that one last hand to be dealt. "It will be a god awful mess tomorrow"
Time passed rather slowly this night. Hobbes was up till 3 as all his wounded were at last evacuated. When it was time to leave himself, he paused, thinking, should he go or not. As his train began to pull away, a yard worker yelled out, "You coming or what?"
"I guess so" he muttered, jumping up onto a flat bed. He sat down, feet dangling off it's edge as it began to depart. In no time, his home town began to shrink away. "So long, ol' buddy" he muttered again, this time he was sure he wouldn't see him again.
Encompassed by blackness, Calvin could feel his sore muscles stiffen up. Should've stretched them out before calming down. Cold air combined with a slight wind were not too bothersome for him. To combat it, he sank deeper into his hole until only his spikey yellow hair could be seen above it's rim. Sigh, comfortable at last. In what seemed like only moments was in fact hours, when a shrill cry rang in his ears:
"Get up! Everyone up. Holy underwear! Look at them!" someone began screaming, arousing Calvin from his heavy sleep. What was happening. Looking up, at that ridge line, his eyes filled with terror, lined up hub to hub were five hundred Kitty tanks. They were rather odd looking vehicles, mounting a light 37 mm main gun and a .30 caliber machine gun, it's configuration, shape, was that of a tennis shoe. It's commander's copula was established it it's rear along with that main gun. It's driver sat up front, along side a machine gun for protection. Calvin had no other information about these vehicles, statistics, armor, or anything else of much use, especially on how to defeat such a thing. As they sat, these two forces stared hard at one another. On a slightly higher elevation, cats could see all those dogs as they moved through their trenches. Having nothing to challenge such a force, dog moral began to crack before anything could happen. Several dogs retreated to a supply dump, where earlier they had discovered food, this time they went in search of weapons. Crates were stacked several high, each one labeled in Russian. Defying their confusion, they began to systematically rip each one open till they found their quarry.
"Eureka!" one shouted, pulling out RPG launchers. In another crate were warheads, untouched, begging to be fired.
When this squad had returned, a large red flare suddenly shot up skywards from Garfield's side. In an instant, a massive volley of cannon fire ripped up earth all around them. Explosions caused massive confusion as recruits began to break under strain. It was useless to stay in a place such as this. Instincts were kicking in. Fight or flight? This case, flight. Running out of their works, dogs and many of their new allies began to take to their heels in running back into town, seeking asylum in churches or homes better cover or to just hide. Angered and flustered, sergeants and officers threatened to shoot them if they didn't return. Few did. A sergeant threw a launcher into Calvin's hole along with a few warheads.
"Do you know how to use this?" he asked.
Looking down at his feet, Calvin looked up and smiled, "Sure do. Mom did not get me one for Christmas."
By now, Kitty tanks have dealt a second volley that ripped apart half empty trenches and dugouts, now they began their advance, rolling slowly down hill, their weapons blazing away as they went. Ducking in his dug out, Calvin set aside his RPG, removed a warhead from it's protected sheath and began a trail and error loading process as his foe began to grow closer and closer. When it was finally ready, he shouldered it, aimed down a large sight, picked out a close target, not more than 50 meters away, and fired.
Kawoosh!
It roared out, soared low and impacted short of it's target. Damn. Suddenly that tank turned it's sole intention right on Calvin. A shot was fired. He ducked, it went high over head. Phew. Reloading again, Calvin peered out to see his target had now moved a tad closer and was approaching a slight rise. When it reached, his vulnerable under belly was exposed. Now. Lifting himself and his launcher, he took square aim and fired.
Kawoosh!
This time, it went straight and true, impacting with solid armor and destroying it. Brewing up, flames began to belch out from hatches, far too quickly for anyone to get out in time as ammunition began to cook off in a spectacular fireworks display. One down, so many more to go. Reloading as fast as he could, Calvin sought to pick off those close to him. To his right, a large force was inching closer to his works, weapons blazing away and return fire was slacking off. He took aim and fired, a second tank was hit and began to burn intensely. Two tanks now burned just short of his hole, Calvin looked out see that most of his force had pulled back towards town, leaving him and a puny band to fend for themselves.
"What do we do?"
"Out here it's kill or be killed. There is no Geneva Convention protecting you. How you die is how you will be remembered" those words resonated throughout. Looking at themselves then at one another, each one searched deep for that instinct, that bravery, very same that Calvin had. Once I was found, it was fertilized to grow. Nodding in agreement, they began to follow Calvin's lead back towards town.
Sounds of battle were pattering all around as they began to navigate a maze of houses, first single story then gradually grew taller than trees as they progressed further into down town. No sign of other dogs, cats, or even signs of battle. Sounds continued, but at a distance so they went after it. As he led this band, Calvin began to wonder about Hobbes. Where was he? Where does he go? Every time a battle comes up, he tends to go towards those cats. Was he a spy or just a double agent? Knew this tiger for a long time and loyalty was written all over, still, there was a linger of doubt hanging over him. Another question was prisoners. Garfield must have taken prisoners in this war. Where was he hiding them? Knowing this fat cat, he just might use them as shields or as bargaining chips to bid off his head.
As this band of dogs were moving south west, a group of cats were moving east, away from battle. These were guards pushing one group of those prisoners. A hot, blistering sun bearing down on them, parched of thirst, and bearing an arm belonging to Adam, Kari followed along with others as high tempered guards prodded their weak bodies further down a winding dirt trail. Promised that they were being led to a place of safety, they didn't feel steady as they realized that they were being led into a forested area, far away from any avenue of traffic.
Kawooosh!
Kawooosh!
Sound of their muzzle loader bullets shooting out through hot air then a sickening thud is heard a half second later as it found it's target and drilled into their bodies, soft lead easily becoming warped, pancake in shape and snapping bone, tearing muscle, and severing arteries. Petite size didn't give cats much advantage. Once shooting started, prisoners began to scatter as their guards either ran or jumped into a half filled irrigation ditch to fight. Three were already cut down, bleeding profusely from ghastly wounds. A sharp fire fight erupted as cats became pinned down. Calvin split his team into two, with four moving his left as he laid down a hot fire. Under this plan, they managed to crawl through a naked field and suffer not an injury. When within twenty yards of those guards, still confined in that irrigation ditch, dogs sprang up and rushed them, letting out a loud howl and firing their weapons at a dead run. Unnerved, leaderless, having no potential, cats fled for their lives, leaving prisoners to fend for themselves. Before Calvin or his dogs could even cross blades with them, they were gone and in their wake was a dozen petrified human prisoners cowering in some tall grass. It took awhile for them to realize that they were finally free.
"It's not over" Calvin said to them. "You'll be safe for now, but we must move on" after searching and not being able to find his parents among them.
His search for battle led him all down winding streets, vacant of presence, yet traces of battle remained. A few tanks lay smouldering, a few bodies strewn here and there, signs of a struggle. Crude barricades marked where groups of soldiers made a stand for a time before falling back or were destroyed.
Those with him grew desponded, there were hundreds of those tanks now running loose, how could they handle them all. Where was Dilger? Where was Hobbes. Calvin didn't know. All he knew was his enemy was nearby, he could sense it, and it must be destroyed. Two blocks south of his old school, there was suppose to be a public part about five square acres big and fenced by large oak trees about fifty years old. As his team moved forward, a sniper took aim at them from a window. First shot went overhead, yet caused them to scatter and take cover. From a well concealed perch, a sniper could have laid waste to Calvin's party had not one soldier, a beagle named Howard suddenly rushed, yelping and screaming, flailing his arms. That sniper took aim, and put a bullet through Howard's head, yet he exposed his perch, an attic window. Jumping out, Calvin took aim with his launcher, fired, and killed him.
When cleared, several dogs came out of hiding. A few were from Calvin's force, others were new volunteers. They informed this human that they had managed to surround a vast number of cats. They were stuck inside that public park, with almost no natural cover what so ever. It sounded too good to be true. However, snipers had also infiltrated nearby structures and were wreacking havoc, picking off leaders, even medicals teams trying to attend wounded. There were two tanks, but they were taken out with home made grenades, now they were burning outside. Listening to this information, Calvin sought about a plan on how to deal with them. Dogs listened intently on what he had to say, as if he were a real general instead of a six year old boy. Kicking out a clearing on dirt, he began to draw out his plan. With this force now contained, he would sent out two parties to flush out snipers while a large force with heavy weapons began to lay down suppressing fire on those trapped while a second force attempted to hit it's rear. It was a sound plan with one flaw, there were no heavy weapons on hand save some new RPGs and home made grenades.
"Go with what you got!" Calvin ordered. Everyone roared in agreement.
His foe, later discovered, had heavy weapons. AK-47s, rocket launchers, machine guns, but were badly coordinated. Several more tanks were nearby and closing in, so if he wanted to attack, it must be now. Orders went up and now, shaking everything up. Dogs obeyed without question to a general, a new general, a boy. Parties were formed and went to work in flushing out troublesome snipers, it was a messy business, as two large companies were being formed. One was Calvin's suppressing force equipped with any suitable weapon there was. His second was his strike force, swift, light, and deadly.
Their prey were situated on terrain slightly elevated above it's nearby surroundings, allowing dogs to move around unnoticed.
"What idiot led them there?" Calvin asked as he commenced crawling around on his belly, getting behind his prey.
Not to his surprise, those cats were virtually clueless, waiting anxiously as tank shots echoed far away. When everything seemed to be in position after an hour of slow movements and little action, Calvin lifted his head till his eyes could see enemy parapets. There they were. Digging around monkey bars, and a play house. Rather pathetic attempts of making forts. Hunkering down again, Calvin passed up his weapon to another soldier and took his weapon, a pistol and began to issue orders.
"When I go, I want you to fire at that play house." he told his gunner whom nodded affirmatively, "Then I want everyone else to get up and charge forward and fire as you go. Don't stop. Whatever happens, don't stop" he made sure that they all understood. "If we freeze, we die"
Everything was finally ready. Looking up once again, he counted several dozen heads, and their buddies far away were coming closer. Waving his arm to a signal relay, Calvin gave his order to commence firing. All at once tracer rounds and explosions began to rip up earth. Cats bean to dive for cover, whining and screaming, praying.
"Now!" Calvin yelled. His gunner rose up, took aim, and fired. His round ripped apart it's target, toppling once cat from it, and parts of others. Now ready, he struggled up, fell for a moment, cursed, then tried again. This was it. Charge. Dashing forward, mouth open, but it was dry, and no words came out. His stride was quick as he approached his goal. Those walls were soft, he clawed up on his hands and knees. Finally mounting this parapet, Calvin glanced back quickly to see whom had followed him through. Few seldom came up. Looking forward once again, he was stunned to see himself amerced in a sea of enemy soldiers of all sorts. No longer were they cats, but hamsters, rats, mice, animals of all sorts fighting for Garfield either by conscription or volunteer. Seeing this tall being standing proudly over their works, all soldiers suddenly concentrated on him, Calvin. Gritting his teeth, he plunged forth into the very depths of this mass, brandishing his pistol, promptly emptying it before turning it about, grasping it's hot barrel, and using it's firm handle, began to bash in enemy heads. Tense seconds crawled by as one soldier sought to stave off Garfield's entire infantry counter attack with an empty fire arm, and this one brave soul was doing it. Soldiers he faced were amazed to see a savage beast pounding against them. Too stunned they were to prevent his friends from mounting that very same parapet and fire into them. Calvin's tardy comrades have finally arrived, forming a firing line right above Calvin and firing into this congested mass literally surrounding him. It was virtually impossible to miss, targets were jammed packed, belly to back, shoulder to shoulder. It was a field day to some with automatic weapons as corpses began to pile up as several individuals pressed in deep in search for their beleaguered comrade whom had sank into an abyss. Shrugging off dead bodies, they found him, half submerged in upturned earth and muck. Despite having clogs of it shoved up his tiny nostrils, he still managed to hold a sense of humor.
"Now you show up just as I'm winning"
Once they gained part of works, dogs began to hunker down and lay waste to any cat that dared to expose himself. It was a field of death as bodies lay in every foot. Some tried to surrender, others in making a getaway. None managed to succeed.
"Death to them all!" one screamed. Comrades concurred with his sentiments. Just minutes later, every single soul was cut down.
"It really sucks to be you!" Calvin cured them…