[b][u]Pachydermophobia[/u][/b]

[b]HMNB Ayery, Lake Bryce[/b]

Zombies don't exist.
You can't reanimate a corpse.
And no one, no matter how strong, has ever managed to claw their way out of a sealed coffin that has already been buried.
That's what Rear Admiral Parvo Jegg kept repeating to himself as he scurried down the roads between the ocean grey and olive green storage sheds and warehouses. He was making a beeline for the armoury that sat at the center of HMNB Ayery, nestled in the midst of the barracks and various offices. It was two and a half miles away from his current position and no one had seen fit to leave any keys in the ignition of any of the 4x4s or small cargo vehicles that were dotted about. He cursed fervently again as he skidded to a stop, peering through the blood smeared window of an olive green 4x4 that sat with its nose buried in a stack of toppled oil drums just off the road. The driver - or what was left of him - was slumped over the wheel, intestines coiled messily in his lap, his left arm and part of his head missing. Squinting, Jegg saw that the key had been snapped off in the ignition. He swore bitterly and took to his heels again when he heard the foghorn chuff behind him.
It had found him.
And the longer he lingered, the closer it got.
Running hard down the road in a near blind panic, he hoped that someone had left some of the more frowned upon weaponry in the armoury. He ran past the gaping maw of a broken warehouse, slowing his pace, considering whether or not to take a detour through the meteorite stricken innards of the crate riddled space. A chorus of gurgles, hisses and wet moans echoed from the darkness and he thought better of it, deciding instead to take the long route. He ran on, not bothering to look back at the shambling, tattered masses of reptillian seamen and cargo handlers that lurched forward into the daylight behind him, his mind racing as he tried to piece together what had happened. He skidded around the corner, head down, teeth gritted as he heard a soft wet tearing sound and the splatter of giant flat feet charging through freshly pulped zombies.

As if it wasn't bad enough being named after a disease, he thought miserably, he had now also lost his flesh to a chunk of space rock, seen his command torn to pieces and reanimated, and was now being chased down by a very angry, very hairy elephant that had somehow managed to make its way onto the naval island.
At that thought, he started laughing, long and hard, his pace wobbling as he started to lose his grip, the world he was once so familiar with slipping away in a haze of borderline lunacy. He'd climbed through the ranks by sheer dint of effort and an ironclad sense of duty. Now that sense of duty seemed to have sunk like HMS Defiance, the B-Class Destroyer he had been inspecting after its recent multi-million dollar re-fit. The meteor had come out of the sun and slammed down midships, tearing the vessel neatly in two, catapulting him clear of the sinking, flaming wreckage. It was only by pure luck that he'd been standing at the bow, speaking to the once current captain about the destroyer's up-coming patrol mission on the border between Gollona and Ferron. Now all that was history and the only thing that remained was to figure out whether anyone else had survived the Strike, what had happened, why there hadn't been a warning and why there was an angry ginger elephant chasing him down the road. He took his chances and charged through a large storage shed, past stacked wooden crates and out the rear, slamming the back door open on it's hinges with enough force to fracture the wooden frame. His momentum had him falling into the open back of a modified armoured civilian 4x4. He struggled upright again, gripping the roll bar to haul himself into a crouch, curling his skeletal tail around him for balance. He looked at the driver, who had twisted around in his seat and fell over again with a small yell. The dark green reptile who was sat at the wheel had a strip of flesh missing around his left eye and a blood stained bandage was just visible beneath his olive scarf. The tip of his nose was bald yellowish bone, the scales and skin having apparently worn away some time ago.  He wore the armoured vest and fatigues of a Tanker, Jegg realised and for a brief, insane moment wondered why a Tanker would be on a naval base instead of with his batallion out on Minnsmere Fields 2 hundred miles away fighting to keep the enemy at bay. The Tanker looked at him critically, taking in his tatty, blood stained muddy white and blue uniform.
''Sergeant David Crae, hundred-fifteen tank battalion of one. Don't suppose you've seen a big hairy bastard of an elephant around these parts, have you?''
Jegg took the proffered gloved hand silently and carefully, and shook it numbly as if in a dream.
''Rear Admiral Jegg,'' He said cautiously, instinctively avoiding his first name, ''what's going on?''
In the gap between sentences, they heard the elephant crashing through a building not far off.
''Ah, there it is.'' Dave muttered, ignoring the question. He pulled down the mic of his headset and thumbed the small radio pack that was clipped to his left breast pocket, ''Marty, I've located it! Get yer arse over here so we can net this git and get home.''

''You're after that thing?!'' Jegg asked incredulously.
The very thought of actively hunting down and capturing an elephant turned him icy cold and filled him with a deep-rooted dread.
''Yep. We got a tanker full of diesel waiting for us if we bring this thing home in one piece.'' Dave said amiably and started the engine of the 4x4. He nudged the vehicle cautiously onto the side road that opened out onto the main drag and scanned his surroundings, not bothering to ask Jegg whether he wanted to go along for the ride or not.  
''You're staring at me. Why?'' He added without looking around.
''You er.. You um... You look like [i]one of them[/i].'' Jegg finished lamely, feeling his authority sliding away in this strange re-hash of an old and familiar environment. Dave decided against pointing out the fact that the Rear Admiral had been reduced to nothing but an animated skeleton in a less than fresh uniform as he cautiously manoeuvered the 4x4 around a cluster of bins. 
''Yeeeaah... Such is the disposition of our country's current state of affairs. How long you been awake?''
''Since this morning. Why?''
''And, I'm assuming by the smell and colour of your once crisp white uniform, that you woke up on the quay?''
''Yesss... Something like that.''
''Weeerll... Right now, the only thing I can say is Welcome To Hell!'' He said grinning with a quick flourish of hands. ''Oh, and Hang On.''
He grabbed the steering wheel again and the 4x4 jerked forward with a snort, darting across the path of an on-coming tank as it thundered down the road, ramming abandoned vehicles out of the way, mine clearing plow lowered. Jegg fell backwards, hitting his head on the floor of the 4x4 as the metal giant roared past a few feet behind them.
''How good are you with a harpoon, Rear Admiral?'' Dave called over his shoulder.
Jegg rolled over awkwardly and peered stupidly at the reptile at the wheel. His scarf was pulled tightly over his nose and mouth, and a pair of thick goggles covered his eyes, a helmet now planted firmly on his head. Jegg was sure the lunatic was grinning as he floored the accelerator, sending the 4x4 roaring up another side street.
''Got a ninety-eight score on the range, why?'' He asked suspiciously, leaning between the front seats so as to be heard.
Dave pulled a modified harpoon from the passenger side footwell and shoved it backwards between the front seats. The admiral took it wordlessly, realising that he didn't have much choice in the matter anymore and feeling it was the only thing he was really capable of doing at that particular moment.
''When Bone King takes that thing's feet out from underneath it, fire the harpoon at its head!'' Dave shouted over the noise of rushing wind and engines.
Jegg checked the weapon over, feeling a little of his confidence returning. Shooting stuff: that was territory he was familiar with. The cold metal of the weapon felt good in his bony hands and he relished the weight. Finally, he felt like he was back on familiar ground and he decided to hold onto that feeling with everything he had left. The world may have gone to shit, but weapons were weapons and they were a much needed safety blanket in a world of monsters. Finding his balance in the stripped-out back of the armoured open-top 4x4 as it kept pace with the tank on the neighboring road, he took the safety off and rested his finger on the trigger guard.

He heard the elephant over the roar of tank and 4x4. It was close, just a few hundred yards up the road. They could see it, stood on the crossroads, surrounded by zombies, tossing them around with its thick, long trunk like they were ragdolls. They got closer, slowing down and a flailing zombie soared over their heads, hissing and spitting as it went. Jegg tentatively stood up, leaning against the back of the front seats, using them and his tail as balancing aids.
''Ready...'' He muttered, trying his best to concentrate on what he was doing as opposed to what the elephant was doing.
Jegg sighted down the length of the gun, tracking the great ginger monster's head as best he could, feeling fear well up inside his breast once again. Then the tank burst through the corner of the building up ahead, sending shattered bricks, dust and chunks of crates across the road. The tank ground up some zombies beneath its heavy tread and shunted the elephant's back legs out from underneath it. Another foghorn blat and the wildeyed creature lost its balance and went down kicking madly at the air. Jegg pulled the trigger. A net unfurled mid-air and slapped into the elephant's face, the weights on each corner of the pentagonal net wrapping it firmly around its head. A small black box in the middle of the net with the shaft of the harpoon sticking out of it flickered a bright blue-white. There was a crack of electricity and the creature grunted. A skeleton wearing the same uniform as Dave popped out of the driver's hatch of the pachyderm laden tank and put several tranquilisers into its backside.
''Aaaand we have an elephant.'' Dave grinned, pulling his goggles up onto his helmet.
He climbed out of the driver's seat and pulled his pistol out its thigh holster.
''So now what, Sergeant?'' Jegg asked, hopping out nervously, clutching the spent harpoon gun to his chest. He hurried after Dave, looking fervently around at his surroundings.
''We get this big bastard back Darlance, hand him over to his owner and take our payment.'' He said, shooting a zombie with broken legs in the head as he walked past it.
''Um...''
''Oh, and see if we can sort you out, too. If you want.'' He added with little enthusiasm.
Jegg stopped ten feet away from the felled elephant. He looked at the prone creature, lying on its side, staring at them through lidded, bloodshot eyes. Its shaggy fur was matted and there were scabs and pustules coming up all over its body. One of its giant curling tusks was broken. Blood and gore matted its thick fur where it had taken on more than its fair share of zombie packs. A tattered length of blackening intestine was looped casually around a large ear and it still clutched a severed leg in its paralyzed trunk.
''It looks ill.'' The admiral said.
''Probably been infected with whatever it is the rocks are emitting.'' Dave said absently, crouching down in front of its face, looking at it critically.
The skeleton who had shot it climbed down from the tank and walked around the elephant, tutting under his breath.

''How the fuck're we supposed to get it back to Darlance?'' He grunted.
Dave went thoughtful, scratching at his balding chin.
''Hmmm...'' He said, then added as an afterthought, ''Oh, by the by, this is Marty. Best tank driver you'll ever have the misfortune of meeting.''
Marty waved, deep in thought, staring at the elephant's backside as it lay across the front of his tank.
The three men stood in silence for a while thinking it over.
Jegg fidgeted, his feet clacking softly against the tarmac.
''... There's a container lorry up at the gatehouse...'' He said slowly, looking down the road and at the jib of a crane peeking out around the corner of the far warehouse. ''I saw its driver get taken off to one side by the guards. I think it got put in the pound...''
The other two looked at him expectantly.
''You think?'' Marty asked skeptically.
Jegg went quiet again, trying to remember the exact routine he went through when he got onto the island. He definately got stuck behind an articulated container lorry. The guards seemed particularly upset about the contents of the vehicle's trailer. Usually an upset pair of gate guards led to something being confiscated, and HGVs were a favourite because it gave their superiors more paperwork to do, which kept them out of everyone else's way for a few hours.
''Pretty sure, actually. Whatever it was hauling didn't go over well with the guards on the gate. I saw the argument from my car and that kind of thing always ends up with someone being arrested.''
Dave twisted on the spot and looked over his shoulder at Marty, who seemed to be deep in thought.
''You drive HGVs?'' Dave asked.
''I'll try and drive anything once.'' The skeleton replied, shrugging effortlessly.
''There're cranes on the dockside you can use to load it into the trailer.'' Jegg added.
''What d'you mean [i]we[/i]?'' Marty grunted.
''I er, I um, have an allergy...?'' Jegg shifted uncomfortably.
''Bollocks.'' Marty announced with irritation. ''You just don't want to damage your manicure with some honest hard work.''
Jegg bristled. Dave and Marty stared at him. Marty appeared to be scowling but Dave was suddenly grinning like a shark, revealing a few missing teeth.
''Why don't you come and stand over here, near me?'' He said, stepping to one side.
''No thank you.'' Jegg said primly.
Marty watched on in silence, realisation dawning on him. He cocked his head slightly to one side, waiting to see if his budding assumption was correct. Jegg stood in place, fidgeting slightly - a light tug on his trouser leg to straighten a rogue crease, a twitch of the tail and an overly keen need to know what was going on all around him without actually looking at what was in front of him.
''Why not?'' Dave asked plainly.
''I'm fine where I am thank you.''
While they had been studying the dozy elephant, one of the mutilated zombies had been making its way slowly across the ground using its stump of a tail and left arm for leverage. It gripped Jegg's ankle with broken fingers and a gurgle. The admiral yelled incoherently, yanked his foot away from the battered, pustulent remains of the seaman and proceeded to cave its skull in with the butt of the harpoon gun. He continued pummelling it until the zombie's head was nothing but a pile of mashed brain matter and splintered bone spread across the tarmac. Marty and Dave looked on, letting the bewildered Rear Admiral take some stress out on the creature.
''Are you coming over here or what?'' Marty asked impatiently.

Rear Admiral Jegg spun on them, pinning the other skeleton with a glare that would have cowed most seamen. Marty didn't budge. He stood and looked back, staring blankly, un-fazed.
''No.''
''Why not? We can't load this thing up on our own.'' Marty said pointedly.
''Consider it payment for saving your bony arse.'' Dave said jovially.
Jegg sighed. After all these years, it was finally time to come clean. After all, there wasn't much point in hiding his fears, not when there were much bigger issues to be dealt with. He could feel them both staring at him as he squeezed his eyes shut, balling his fists.
''Because,'' He gritted out through clamped teeth, ''I have pachydermophobia.''
Dave and Marty exchanged looks, Marty taking the time to unholster his pistol and put two bullets in the skull of a zombie that was struggling to get back up on its feet. The creature's head exploded in a gout of black ichor and it toppled over backwards, landing with a dull thud. Jegg flinched at the gunshot, the little voice in the back of his mind still relentlessly  jibbering on at him about it all being a dream.
''Pakkiwhatmaphobia?'' Dave said, screwing his scarred face up in thought.
''Pachy - derm - a - phobia. A fear of... A fear of [i]elephants[/i].'' He said slowly and pointedly.
Marty snorted, suddenly finding himself fighting the urge to laugh. Dave, however, didn't resist. He slowly curled into a crouch, arms wrapped around his chest as he laughed until he hurt and couldn't breath, with tears streaming down the sides of his muzzle. Then Marty lost it too, and started laughing, staggering back a few paces with the effort to stay upright and in control. Jegg meanwhile, silently fumed. He'd expected to be mocked, but he hadn't expected so much laughter. 
Then a horrible thought occured to him.
''Shhh! All this noise is bound to attract more of those things!'' Then another thought, ''How long until it wakes up?''
''It'll- It'll be out for another - heh - hour or so-'' Marty managed to say before cracking up again.
''Ohmygodhe'sfrightenedofDumbo.'' Dave wheezed in one breath from his prone position on the floor.
''I'll go and get the lorry.'' Jegg grumbled flatly and took the 4x4 before they could recover and protest.


With gears grinding and much swearing, Jegg managed to guide the 22 tonne artic back towards the loading docks where Marty and Dave were waiting with their prize. The elephant hadn't moved an inch. The net was still wrapped around its head, pinning its large, tatty ears to the sides of its head. Dave and Marty were sat back-to-back on the turret of the tank, assault rifles resting across their laps, smoking a cigarette each. They both turned to stare at the wreck that was gurgling its way down the road towards them. Black smoke plumed from the exhaust stacks and the remains of a zombie's torso was mashed into the grille of the lorry. The vehicle shuddered to a halt next to the elephant and Jegg rolled down the window.
''You get that... That [i]thing[/i] to the crane over there and load it up into the trailer. Once that's done, I'll drive it back to the ferry terminal for you. But I am [i]not[/i] touching that monstrosity. It's disgusting and makes me sick just looking at it.'' He sniffed.
Dave and Marty exchanged looks, shrugged and climbed back into their vehicles.
''The ferry still there, then?'' Marty asked as he slid back into the tank.
Jegg nodded, put the lorry back into gear with a clunk and drove it towards the docks where the crane was. Marty and Dave used the tank to shunt and shuffle the prone elephant towards the crane a few yards up the road.


''So now what?'' Dave asked.
''We get it hooked up to the crane and- ah, I see what you mean.'' Marty said, peering out of the driver's hatch and up at the crane. ''You know how to operate a crane?''
''Nope. You?'' He replied.
''Not a fucking clue. What about you, Jegg?''
Jegg leaned out of the open window in the cab and looked from the two tankers to the crane and back again.
''No.''
Marty sighed, climbed from the tank and made his way over to the ladder of the crane, strapping his rifle securely to his back. 
''Thought you said you didn't know how to operate one of those?'' Dave said, his brow furrowing.
''I figure operating a crane is much like operating a tank. You push some buttons, pull some levers and hope you don't run anything important over, right?'' He replied as he grabbed the bottom rungs of the ladder.
Dave took a few cautionary steps back. He looked up at Marty as he ascended towards the cab of the crane then switched his attention to the area around him.
''Right, Admiral, since you're weirded out by elephants, you'll have to be on zombie duty.''
He un-holstered his spare pistol that sat snugly against his chest in a make-shift shoulder holster and passed it up to him. Overhead, the crane fired up with a grunt, and something inside the turntable mechanism ground together as the boom swung around jerkily, flailing the loose hanging chains around. Dave ducked instinctively as the hook soared three metres over his head with a rattle of chains and a melodic twanging of cables.
''Keep an eye on things while we get this great hairy bastard loaded up.''
Jegg nodded, relieved that he didn't have to physically touch the elephant. Dave disappeared behind the lorry to help Marty guide the snoozing pachyderm into the tall trailer, whilst Jegg waited almost impatiently in the cab of the lorry, fingering the gun nervously.


After a lot of fussing, a bit of swearing and a lot of shouted insults, the elephant had eventually been loaded up into the trailer and they had taken it back to the civillian docks where the two Tankers had gained access to the island via an old ferry from the mainland that had survived the Strike and the ensuing plague of zombies, Mutants and Grotesques. It was old but big and sturdy enough to acommodate a fully armed MBT and 4x4. A bit of shuffling had to be done to fit the lorry aboard, too, which resulted in Marty saying ''Fuck it'' and driving Bone King further across the deck, smashing through the lounge wall and parking it at the bar, leaving a trail of shattered decking in his wake. Dave put the retrieved 4x4 in a corner and they finally got to work sorting out the best way to load the lorry and its cargo up without un-balancing the vessel or further damaging its structural integrity. When Marty and Jegg started arguing about who was more qualified to pilot the ferry back to the mainland, Dave decided to leave them to it, picking his way through the debris of the mangled decking and climbing up the twisting, creaking stairs to the bridge.
''Your argument is invalid! I captained the HMS Glory for twenty-five years! A ship is not tank!''
''This is a ferry. There's a difference, y'know, Mr. I'm Better Than You.''
Jegg opened his mouth to retort then closed it again.
''Where's Dave gone?'' He asked in stead of arguing, looking around.
''Prob'ly gone for a piss.'' The ferry's engines started up with a low diesel gurgle that vibrated through the smashed and scarred decking.  ''Or he could be upstairs on the bridge.''
Jegg grunted something, turned around and scurried across an exposed length of the ferry's metal skeleton and climbed the stairs.
''Sergeant Crae, what the hell do you think you're playing at?'' Jegg demanded as he stomped onto the bridge to find Dave stood at the wheel, steering them away from the dock and whistling a cheerful tune.
''Getting us back to the mainland.'' He said bluntly, ''You want a lift to Darlance or we parting company at the port?''
Jegg floundered. He hadn't actually thought so far ahead.
Truth be told, he hadn't actually believed he was going to survive being chased by a group of angry zombies and an even angrier orange elephant. His mind spun as he tried to work out what he was going to do.
''I have no idea. I still don't know what the hell's going on and how I ended up like this!'' He finally admitted flapping his arms uselessly and looking down at himself and the ruined navy whites that hung tattered and stained from his bones. ''Why didn't we get any warning from the MET office about this? Did you get any warning? And what the hell is half a tank crew doing running around on the country's most important naval base, chasing fucking [i]elephants[/i]?!''
''Funny story actually,'' Marty said as he walked onto the bridge, ''the bastard escaped his enclosure when he saw the peanut lorry go past to make its monthly deliveries to the local pubs. Jumped clean over the fence and everything. Then it set off on some magical adventure through the countryside after it had ransacked the trailer of peanuts, ended up in Ayery Queys and hitched a ride on a ferry to see the sights of your fantastic naval yards that you lot've got stashed on the island.''

Jegg stared at Marty. Dave kept his eyes forward, carefully focusing on the water ahead of them, suppressing a grin to no avail. After a minute of contemplative silence on Jegg's part, Dave spoke up, putting the skeletal reptile out of his misery.
''It's all bollocks, actually. We dunno how it escaped, only that it ended up here and we were promised a great hulking tanker full of diesel to retrieve it alive.'' He said with a shrug. He continued staring out into the vast grey waters of Lake Bryce, adjusting course ever so slightly. ''As for the Strike, well... We had no idea it was coming. At the time we were in the middle of Minnsmere Fields, getting our arses handed to us by the Ferroni. We lost a lot of tanks. Don't miss the tanks, mind. The MPK One-Sixty was total shit. Couldn't take a hit from anything bigger than a nine mil hand gun. It's the crews that died that I miss. Anyway,'' He said, realising that he'd started to digress, ''We were retreating in preparation of an air strike that was coming from RAF Whinsorm. We got the planes, but we also got the meteors. The meteors took out the RAF boys and several other tanks. We managed to get back to base on the outskirts of what was left of Sicklemoore city, but we didn't manage to get to the bunkers in time. Our crew... We lost the boss to the Strike. He was turned to a fine pink mist from the waist up. Sid, our radio and hull gunman was lost in the One-Sixty. I think I envy him that, actually...''
''We,'' Marty picked up, ''were also caught with our pants around our ankles. I woke up underneath our tank minus flesh and vital organs. Dave ended up about thirty metres away from his original spot minus several chunks of flesh and some important aspects of his sanity. We got back on our feet, and went in search for others. Only found a few civilians who had refused to leave the city when the war got too hot.''
''They hadn't heard anything about an impending meteor strike, either.'' Dave put in.
''Nothing over civ channels, nothing over military channels. Or at least, not ours, anyway. But then, we're just tank crews. We're not as important as you navy boys or the lads in the RAF. We exist purely as cannon fodder to distract the enemy from everyone else.'' Marty finished a little bitterly.
Jegg went silent, looking from Tanker to tanker.
''You really heard nothing of this?'' He finally asked, disblieving.
Both men shook their heads.
''Not a peep. And we can't get long-distance radio signal because of the interference from the rocks and the lack of operational stations and towers, so we have no idea of how much damage the Strike has actually done.'' Marty said, ''We don't know if the whole world's gone to shit, or if it's just us. At least, we don't know [i]yet[/i]...''
''Land ho! Or whatever it is you guys say...'' Dave muttered as the town of Ayery Queys came into view.
Jegg sat down on one of the chairs, resting his chin in his hand.
''How long's it been like this?'' He asked, not really wanting to know.
''Erm, about a month. Give or take a few weeks. We're not actually sure, because the radiation the rocks are putting out have screwed everything up royally. The rate of decay of flesh dictates a few weeks to over a month. The rate of plant growth suggests a year or more. The amount of rust on most vehicles we've come across suggests a couple of days as if they've been sat out in some hard weather.'' Marty replied. ''So, in short, no one knows how long we were, er, [i]unconscious[/i] for.''
Jegg fell silent, miserably contemplating the approaching shoreline.
''The fuck do I do? I woke up this morning at the bottom of the lake with fish swimming around inside my skull to find my command in tatters and my career has been rendered a moot point.''
''You could pitch up in Darlance for a while to get yourself sorted. When we get there, I'll point you in the direction of the Legless Dick. Have a word with Ben who runs the place, see if you can sort out some kind of living arrangement until you figure something out.''
''Legless Dick..?''
''It's an old speakeasy that went legit when people started figuring out that they hadn't been completely killed by the Strike. Right now, it's your best bet for further survival.''
''Trust us on this. He doesn't seem it, but Ben's a good egg. He'll help you in exchange for help from you.'' Marty said, gripping the old navigational computer as Dave attempted to dock the ferry by swinging it around as hard as he could and quickly decelerating into reverse.

There was a crash and the whole vessel shook and creaked. Outside, something collapsed with a low groan that ended in a gurgling splash.
''Nailed it!'' Dave proclaimed as he shut the engine down and hurried from the bridge.
Marty and Jegg followed him, Jegg watching in awe as the reptile struggled single-handedly with the heavy mooring ropes. After several attempts, Dave finally got the ferry secure enough to lower the ramp into the remains of the collapsed pier.
''I'm not driving into the that.'' Jegg grunted as he watched the water lap at the rusting loading ramp of the ferry, pushing bits of pier debris against the metal.
''You're a naval officer and you've never driven anything from ship to land before?'' Marty asked, poking him in the ribs.
''Of course I have!'' Jegg retorted, ''But a 22 tonne lorry is quite different from a half-track APC light assault vehicle!''
Marty thought about it.
''How..?'' He asked, genuinely curious and eager to have the differences pointed out.
''It's as different as driving a tank is to operating a crane, Corporal.'' Jegg replied bluntly with a soft grunt of irritation.
''Put your handbags away, ladies. This elephant's gonna wake up soon and I want Jegg as far into Darlance as possible before he freaks out on us.'' Dave said, slapping the pair of them on the back.
Jegg grumbled something and eyed the parked lorry with some trepidation. There was the ocassional vague shuffling sound from the open-top metal trailer.
''Fine,'' He said, steeling himself, ''I'll drive this thing off the ferry and meet you on the main road. I'll follow you to your destination. But on [i]one[/i] condition! That whoever's got the tranquilizers is behind me just in case it decides to wake up mid-journey.''
'' 'kay. Sounds fair. Marty, you got enough in the tank to get back home?''
Marty nodded, ''Plenty. When we drop this bastard off, I'll tow your car back while you drive the tanker.'' He said, turning and walking towards Bone King.
Dave turned to Jegg, a grin on his face revealing a cracked tooth.
''You ready for this, Rear Admiral?''
''The way I see it today, I don't really have any choice.'' He sighed and climbed into the cab of the lorry and started the engine once more.


[b]Ashby House, Darlance[/b]


Alex Harman stood in the middle of his winding gravel drive amongst the neatly trimmed firs and his personal army of security guards, tapping curiously at the expensive watch strapped to his semi-decayed wrist.
''What time is it?'' He asked gruffly.
An armed guard who was walking his patrol route around the extensive front gardens of the large house paused and checked his own watch.
''Seven pee-em, sir.'' He replied crisply.
''They're late.'' Alex grunted, his heavily bandaged tail whipping about sluggishly behind him.
''If you wish, I could attempt to radio them?'' The guard enquired.
Alex looked up at the tall skeleton in the dark blue uniform of a hired security guard. Before the Strike, the reptile who stood beside him had been dark scaled, stocky and somewhere in the region of 8 foot in height. Now he had been reduced to pale bones with a piercing yellow witchlight in the darkness of his wide eye sockets, his crisp uniform now a comedically loose fit. In comparison to the skeleton security guard who stood stoically beside him, Alex was a rather short 6 foot 3 inches with a girth to match. These days, it wasn't easy to keep that girth in check. He had taken to wearing layers of medical gauze and bandages secured beneath a girdle under his clothes just to keep his insides from dropping through his slowly decaying flesh. It was an uncomfortable existence, post-Strike, but an existence he intended to cling onto with both hands and his tail, assuming he could get the stubby, swollen appendage around his personal equator.
''If they're not here by sun-down, I'm keeping the fuel.'' He growled petuantly.
''And of your beloved pet, sir?'' The guard asked curiously, keeping his tone as respectful as possible.
''Oh, I'll be taking my precious baby back, don't you worry.'' Alex said with a small smile.
He really missed his elephant, Gerty. In the three weeks he had been missing, Alex had religiously kept his paddock in check, re-filling the feed baskets and the small lake that Gerty so enjoyed frolicking in. It would be a relief to have him back, safe and sound.
''Sir? There are three vehicles coming up the main road.'' The guard said, pressing a finger to the earpiece that was glued to the side of his skull. Alex stared at him expectantly, ''One civilian four-by-four leading a convoy of one artic and one main battle tank.''
''They're here?''
''It would seem so, sir.''
''Open the gates as soon as they get here. Direct the lorry around the back to the sheds. I'll have Gerty's handlers on stand-by!'' Alex said excitedly.
''And of the promised reward, sir?''
''Oh yes, yes. Give the tank driver the keys then tell them to go away.'' Alex hurried around to the rear of his large, well fortified house, a huge grin on his blue face. 


Jegg backed the lorry carefully up to the large shed, lining the rear of the trailer up with the large open doorway, following the waved and shouted instructions of the elephant's keepers. He imagined the situation would have gone a lot better without the small, fat reptile prancing excitedly around the HGV like a gnat with ADD. For a start, less bushes would have been crushed under the lorry's tyres and a lamp post would still be the right way up. He ground his teeth together as the litte fat reptile bounded around the front of the lorry again, finally to disappear into a smaller door in the shed at the end of his final orbit around the vehicle. Jegg looked in the passenger-side wing mirror, fully expecting the owner to burst out of the other access door to perform another excited orbit around the HGV. When he didn't reappear, he sighed with relief. The sight of all that loose fat had started to make him feel a little nauseous, which didn't help his mounting fear of the thing that was tied up just a few feet behind his head, and making some unsettling noises.
There a shout and someone hammered hard on the side of the lorry. He put the brakes on, turned the engine off and, making sure that the lorry wasn't going to go anywhere, opened the door and ran for his life. He didn't want to be anywhere near the ginger beast's lair when they started to unload it. After all, it had escaped once, and Jegg didn't want to be anywhere near it when it went on another murderous rampage. He ran towards Bone King, grabbed the corner and used his momentum to swing himself around and up onto the hull so he could peer over the turret to watch the giant shed and its swarm of overall clad workers bustling around it and its attached HGV. Marty looked over at Jegg who was crouching down, peering carefully over the flat top of the turret and chuckled, shaking his head.
''Tank won't protect you much without its crew.'' He said.
Jegg didn't reply. He stayed quietly twitchy as the handlers set about unloading the dopey elephant.
''Better not escape again.'' He muttered.
Dave walked over to join them, twirling a new set of keys around his index finger.
''The tanker is all ours.'' He grinned and tossed another set of keys up to Jegg, who fumbled to catch them in his hiding place.
''What're these for?'' He asked suspiciously.
''Well, you did help us wrangle that bastard. You did a good job of it, too. Especially considering your weird phobia and that you're still largely clueless about the new world order and such. I figured you deserve a reward of sorts for not having a nervous breakdown on us.''
''Uh, thank you. What's the catch?''
''It's got enough fuel in the tank to get you to Darlance. From there, scrounging up s'more diesel is down to you.'' Dave replied.
Jegg tried his best to pull a face.
''You'll get used to the whole 'facial expression with no face' thing.'' Marty said easily as he leaned back against the tank.

A few minutes later, Alex strode up to them, all seriousness and jiggling fat.
''You there! Hunters!'' He called.
Dave, Marty and Jegg looked around at the approaching retpile.
''Is there a problem?'' Marty asked, staying as polite as possible.
''Yes there bloody well is!'' Alex snapped, ''That's not Gerty!''
''Gerty?'' Jegg asked, confused.
''I didn't know you wanted us to look for your wife, too.'' Dave said, miffed by the fat reptile's sudden anger.
''Gerty is my elephant!'' He spat hotly.
''Ah, so that's it's name.'' Marty said wonderingly.
''And a very nice elephant it is too.'' Dave said with a smile.
Jegg kept his opinion of the elephant to himself.
''Er, what exactly [i]is[/i] the problem, Mr....''
''Mr. Harman. And you are?'' 
''Rear Admiral Jegg, Gollona Royal Navy.'' He replied, standing up, bringing himself to his full, impressive height.
''Well, [i]Rear Admiral[/i] Jegg, the problem is, that creature in there- That [i]abomination[/i] of an elephant is [i]not[/i] Gerty! That is [i]not[/i] my elephant!''
''Are you sure?'' Dave asked, incredulous.
''I KNOW WHAT MY GERTY LOOKS LIKE AND THAT IS NOT MY GERTY!'' He shouted angrily, ''And I suggest that if you want your reward, you get back out there and find my elephant!''
Dave and Marty groaned. 
Jegg visibly sagged.