0545-

Crows. Cawing. Cawing Crows. Circling and cawing, and clawing.

Like Prometheus chained to the cliff, I feed them my unwilling flesh and they rip out my liver again and again. Their shrieks drown out my own, as they circle in a thickening cloud, diving and ripping and clawing at me.

Through the dimming dark a fierce, shaggy door mat hurtles toward me. Its fangs are bared, long and gleaming yellow. Slaver foams and froths from the eager jaws, as it closes on my bound and shackled body. The crows part as it nears. I can feel its hot breath, see the red of bloodshot eyes. My time is come, and I can do nothing about it.

0550-

Whoa. Some dream.

0600-

Footsteps. Someone is awake and moving past my ground blind. I raise the viewport and peer out surreptitiously. I don’t recognize this one. It’s too early to tell if she is one of our intelligence sources.

I slip the viewport down, but not quickly enough. She’s seen me! Fortunately, she has no idea whether or not I belong. I smoothly assume the attitude of a native, and slip out for conversation. Who knows, I could learn some important data here.

0630-

I’ve now met Jessica (the early morning walker), Chris, and at LONG LAST, GEORGIA! Codename, GeoBear, she is a great source of intelligence. Without her, the raid might never have happened.

We all chat for awhile, as more early risers begin to move about and join us.

0700-

Someone has leaked news of my arrival! Here comes Teddy, and she’s moving fast. I look for weapons, but none are at hand. Before I can dodge for safety, I am wrapped in the HUG OF DEATH! I return the embrace. Only one of us can survive this combat, and I have no desire to be on the losing side.

0715-

The fray is broken by the appearance of the Dead Guy. No, wait. The Dead Guy is on the porch. OMIGOD! It’s Doc! Now I’m surely done for. I should have made my assault on the catacombs and bolted under cover of darkness. Now I’m trapped in the open.

I look for a weakness, then I see it. Apparently there has been dissension in the Ranks, and Teddy has bitten Doc right on the cheek. I can sense the tension and I slip Teddy’s grasp ready to run for the Strike Vehicle.

Too late, another force staggers into the room. GAIL! Oh, I’m in for it now. I suddenly find myself wrapped in another Hug of Death. I surrender myself to the ministrations of the grave, hoping that Georgia and the other intelligence operatives can use this opportunity to strike quickly and evacuate. But no, they stand watching, smiling as though drugged.

0730-

I’m released, suddenly, from Gail’s Hug of Death. Unsure what this means, I watch guardedly.

I notice a black fuzzy creature lurking in the next room. As I look, it bares yellow teeth and I catch a glimpse of red where the eyes should be. HOLY COW! Someone shaved the doormat!

0800-

Somebody has brewed liquid stimulants, and they are sharing with me, in strict accordance with the conventions of war. There are harsh rulings against cruelty, especially withholding coffee from a prisoner.

And look, Teddy is serving up muffins and bagels and fresh fruit. . .

0830-

I’m stuffed. I see the method here now, though. Teddy hopes to skillfully exterminate me through overfeeding! I’m onto her scheme, and I’ll never fall for this.

One more of these muffins, though.

And another bagel.

0930-

The entire camp is astir now, and I see that I am not the only prisoner. In fact, it seems that most of the household is being held prisoner, and subjected to extreme forms of torture. Apparently several of the prisoners were poisoned last night, and the effects of the toxicity are still fairly obvious. My GOD what beasts these Docsters are!

They are now discussing a forced march for the afternoon.

We will apparently be divided into two groups. One group will be taken into the hills and marched through the jungle, in hopes of luring the elusive Felix Concours out of hiding. The prisoners will serve as bait.

The other party will be taken into the desert to bake their brain pans in the blazing sun. If all goes well, the thrashing of the victims will be enough to attract a condor or two.

We huddle together and discuss the possibilities, while Teddy hands out "provisions". A crumb-cake and water? OH, the vile, wicked, evil . . .

0945-

We are gathered into groups. The hike will begin any moment.

1000-

Any minute, we’re heading out.

1030-

Yupp Should be going in a second or two.

1100-

They finally load us into trucks and pack us off to our destinies. Fortunately, I manage to slip into one of the mountain-bound vehicles. I pity those folks heading into the desert wastes, but what can I say. Look out for number one, that’s the motto of the survivor.

1145-

We’ve arrived. We are shoved roughly out into the elements. I see that we are marching near a well-used holiday spot. I try to signal some tourists, to alert them to our predicament. They are either unconscious or uncaring. I’ll have to wrangle an escape on my own.

But wait, there’s Georgia. Maybe we can work together on this one. Teamwork. I make my way closer to her.

1200-

OH NO! Not only are they forcing us to march up this mountainside, they’re also going to recite taxonomy as we go! Cruel! Harsh! I will see that they all hang for these indecencies!

1300-

Near the top. Exhausted. Gasping for breath.

1315-

I manage to get close enough to Georgia to discuss an escape plan, but I am breathing so hard I can’t talk.

1330-

We’re heading back down now. What new devices have these people dreamt up to torture our weary souls now?

1345-

Finally, managed to drift back toward the end of the line with Georgia. We discuss the options. She says she has an idea, and I need only follow her.

1400-

BETRAYED! Georgia has led me right back to the trucks, where they are loading us up to go back to the Docster’s Compound!

1445-

All the way home, my head has been in my hands. I should have known better. It was too easy. I trusted her so completely. Oh, the look of jubilation on her face when she saw the dismay on mine . . .

The feeling of betrayal is heightened when she gloats triumphantly about snitching me out to Teddy earlier this morning. So, she was the leak all along!

1600-

We have recovered from the hike, and find that there is a fair amount of freedom around the compound. Several targets of opportunity have been located, and we are in the process of exterminating them. The assassinations are carried out slowly, so as not to raise suspicion.

Teddy brings out some incredible clam dip, and we kill that too.

1700-

Chow time. We hit the mess deck like starving curs, which is what we have really been reduced to. Teddy’s strategy of using our gluttonous behavior to execute us is become obvious, but the food is just WAY too good to stop. Artichokes, lemon chicken, salad, and what-all!

1900-

We need more targets. I manage to slip away on the Strike Vehicle and round up some more tequila.

1925-

Just in time I return with my prize. We surround and slaughter this target of opportunity with abandon!

2000-

I find myself sitting at a keyboard, sending messages to the outside world. The messages are rife with tales of debauchery and knavery. Why can’t I seem to make myself send a plea for assistance? I could call in air strikes or ground support with a click of a mouse. But something keeps me from doing so. Is this the Stockholm Syndrome taking effect?

2100-

Things are getting a little blurry. I think Doc just helped me round up some more Tequila. I watch as Jessica, Chris, and several others kill it with joyous delight. I think Emily just gave it the big thumbs up.

2130-

I no longer trust my senses. All the slaughter. So many targets of opportunity, destroyed in a single night. It’s made me giddy. I slipped out earlier, and rendezvoused at the catacombs. No kahlua. Doc’s way ahead of me yet again.

2200-

The images before my eyes are getting unruly, and I fear I must stop this log soon. Scenes of navel licking and finger sucking dance before my bewildered gaze. Someone is sterilizing limes, and someone else is showing off body piercings to people who only hours before were total strangers. If I survive, this mission must be termed a total success in light of the incredible destruction of targets of opportunity. It matters not a whit at this point that there was no kahlua in the catacombs.

2230-