by Will Collins
Kelly was sickened by it. He lowered his head and choked.
He felt the hatch on his side of the chopper tremble. Don, bleeding and torn, but alive, had crawled there.
"I hear the troops coming up the hill," he said. "Late but welcome."
"You all right?"
"No, but I think I'll live. Thanks to you. How about yourself?"
"I don't think I'll ever be all right again," Kelly said.
Don reached up and gripped his arm. "Yes you will. People are tough. You'll see."
Kelly didn't answer.
He stared at the beast that had come over the mountain, now just a flaming lump of charred meat and hair, and there were tears in his eyes.
EPILOGUE
The last thing the beast knew, before darkness closed in forever, was the hated stench of man and of burning oil.
