The Roaring

by Eric S. Brown

  Walker took point with Roger and Nicholson flanking him. She and Nelson trudged along behind them with Flagston bringing up the rear. Heather was impressed at how Nelson carried himself. She had to admit that she might have been wrong about him. He didn’t complain about the heat or the team’s pace as they moved through the jungle.

  Nelson caught her looking at him. “Should I be flattered that you appear to find me more interesting than the scenery, Commander?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather growled in response. “Part of my job is to keep you alive.”

  Nelson grunted. “Thanks, but you’re a pro. I’m sure you know that we’re all expendable compared to the plane’s cargo we’re after.”

  “No one in my squad is expendable, Mr. Nelson,” Heather informed him.

  Nelson’s grin vanished. “Surely you’ve lost people before.”

  “Danger is part of his line of work. That doesn’t mean I see the members of my squad as expendable,” Heather answered.

  Up ahead of them, Walker gave the signal for quiet as he gestured for the squad to come to a halt where they were.

  “Stay here,” Heather hissed sharply at Nelson, keeping her voice as low as she could. She cautiously and slowly made her way up to join Walker on point. He stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed on something in the distance among the trees.

  Heather followed his gaze and saw what he was staring at. It was a man dressed only in a primate loincloth. He held a spear in one hand, staring back at them. The man’s skin was a bright red tone where it was exposed and not covered in the black and yellow paints that smeared his body and face. His body was lean but hard. He looked every inch a warrior and the expression he wore was cold and devoid of emotion.

  “You think he’s Wari’?” Heather whispered to Walker, remembering the reading she had done about the region. The Wari’ tribe were cannibals but according to what she had read about them, they normally only ate their own. They didn’t go out searching for other people to make a meal out of.

  Walker shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, ma’am. There are a bunch of tribes that live around these parts, and the world outside hasn’t made contact with all of them. From the looks of him though, I don’t think he’s someone we want to tick off. There’s no way in hell he’s alone out here.”

  “He’s sizing us up just like we are him,” Heather told Walker.

  “What should we do?” Walker asked.

  “Let’s give him a minute,” Heather ordered. “Maybe he’ll decide we’re too much trouble to be worth it if he and whoever is with him are looking for a quick meal.”

  The radio in Heather’s helmet crackled to life as Flagston’s voice came over it. “Commander, we’ve got company behind us too,” the little man reported.

  “How many?” Heather asked.

  “At least two,” Flagston reported. “Maybe more.”

  “This isn’t looking good,” Walker commented.

  “Steady,” she ordered Walker. “Everyone hold your fire unless I give the order otherwise,” Heather said over the radio link the squad shared.

  The warrior in front of Walker and her moved. He stepped deeper into the foliage and disappeared into it without a trace.

  “Commander, the natives back here have bugged out,” Flagston’s voice rang out in her ear again.

  “Everyone stand your ground,” Heater ordered. “Let’s give these guys a couple of minutes to see if they’re really gone or this is some kind set up for them to make a move on us.”

  The seconds ticked by, painfully slow, as Heather and the others watched the jungle around them. When five minutes had passed and no attack had come, Heather decided to risk moving forward again.

  “Let’s get back to it,” she said to Walker and then added over the comm. to the rest of the squad, “Everybody keep within sight of each other and watch the trees. We know we’re not alone out here now and I don’t want any more surprises sneaking up on us.”

  The now even more cautious pace of the squad slowed them up a good deal. It was going to be tough to reach the crash site before nightfall at their current pace. She just hoped that with as jumpy as everyone had become from the encounter with the natives that they could keep it together and not start shooting at random shadows or sudden movements that might just be the native wildlife of the four-legged variety. Of course, even that was a threat here. Jaguars prowled these parts too. The cats were deadly predators and just as dangerous as the cannibals they had already met face to face.

  The squad paused again as the jungle opened up onto what appeared to be a well-traveled trail cut through the foliage. Walker stood staring at it, dumbfounded. “What in the devil?” he croaked.

  “We know we’re not alone out here,” Heather reminded him. “If there’s a trail, there has to be a village nearby. It’s likely where those guys we ran into came from.”

  “I liked it better when we were alone,” Walker said, sighing.

  Heather turned to Nelson as he joined them at the front of the squad’s formation. “You know anything about this?”

  Nelson shook his head. “Nothing more than you do.”

  “Talk about bad luck,” Nicholson commented. “All this jungle down here and your plane has to crash near a village of cannibals.”

  “We don’t know that those guys were cannibals,” Roger pointed out.

  “You didn’t see them,” Nicholson said. “I caught a glimpse of one as they were bugging out. Those guys are too freaky not to be cannibals.”

  “This doesn’t change anything,” Heather said. “We still have a job to get done.”

  “This trail seems to go in the direction we’re headed in,” Walker observed. “Should we take it or find another way through the brush?”

  “Are you crazy?” Flagston asked. “Of course we shouldn’t take it. Guys like those freaks are usually pretty territorial. We should find another way to the crash site.”

  “It would cut down on the time we spend humping it through here,” Nicholson said.

  “What? Of all people, I figured you’d be against taking this trail?” Heather chuckled at the squad’s tech.

  “Yeah, well, I was hoping you’d assign me to kick back with Glen on the Hopper. You didn’t, so here I am. Anything that gets all this over with faster, I am for,” Nicholson explained.

  “I vote for the trail too,” Roger said, cutting in. “The natives already know we’re here. They’re likely watching us right now. I don’t think avoiding the trail is going to keep them from away from us if they decide we look tasty enough to face a fight for.”

  “Roger makes a pretty good point,” Walker admitted.

  “Mr. Nelson, any thoughts?” Heather asked.

  Nelson shrugged. “I defer to your judgement, Commander.”

  “The trail it is then,” Heather decided.

  The team kept their cautious pace, but even so, the lack of foliage in their path sped up their progress towards the crash site. The sun was sinking low in the sky and the shadows of the jungle around them were growing deeper and more ominous. The day’s hike was beginning to take its toll on them, and Heather knew they would need to camp soon whether they reached the crash site or not.

  “We’re going to have to make camp soon, ma’am,” Roger said as if reading her mind.

  Heather paused and looked around. The area was fairly clear and open. “This is as good a spot as any. Tell the others,” she ordered Roger.

  Her squad went to work on setting up a makeshift camp. Heather had decided they might as well have a fire so Flagston was busy getting one going. The natives wouldn’t be deterred by it, but she hoped any wandering the area might. The sun had set by the time they were done.

  The two tents the squad erected were off the ground, portable ones that they carried with them. It meant they would have to sleep in shifts, but that was a given anyway. The plan was to rotate three on, three off. A three-person watch was a good thing too given the situation with the natives.
Heather believed the tribesmen would attack sooner rather than later if that was indeed what they intended to do.

  Nicholson, Flagston, and Walker took shelter in the tents to get some rest while she, Nelson, and Roger stayed up for the first watch. Roger nervously paced the edge of the camp, alert for any sign of trouble lurking in the jungle beyond its perimeter while she and Nelson sat at the fire, feeding it as the need arose.

  Nelson took a sat. phone from his pack and fiddled with it. The look of frustration he wore told her that the phone wasn’t working.

  “Trying to check-in?” she ventured.

  “And failing.” Nelson shot her an attempt at a smile.

  “The EM field,” Heather commented. “You know nothing is going to work this close to our target.”

  “It was still worth a try.” Nelson shrugged. “The tech guys have been wrong before.”

  “If we hit it hard at dawn, it shouldn’t take us much longer to reach the crash site.” Heather tossed a small piece of wood onto the fire.

  Nelson tucked his phone back into his pack and produced a thermos. “Coffee,” he told her. “It’s cold but …”

  “Now that’s what I call coming prepared,” Heather said, laughing. “I never turn down coffee.”

  Nelson poured the thermos’ lid full and passed it to her. Heather chugged it and handed the lid back.

  “Sometimes, it’s the little things that make it all endurable,” Nelson told her, pouring himself some coffee.

  “Can’t argue with that assessment,” Heather said.

  The only warning before all hell broke loose was the whistle the arrow made as it flew from the brush on its path towards Nelson. It buried itself in his shoulder blade. Nelson screamed and instinctively reached up to try to pull it out. As he did so, Heather realized that what hit him wasn’t an arrow at all. It was some kind of darted smeared with congealed substance. Nelson managed to yank the dart out in a spray of blood as Roger’s automatic shotgun opened up in a rage of continuous thunder.

  Nelson was staring at her, pale-faced, as she sprang to her feet, rifle in hand. She knew he had been poisoned, but the safety of the others and defense of the camp were her priorities in the moment. The corpses of two tribesmen ripped apart by Roger’s burst of fire lay crumpled near the camp’s edge. Roger was in the process of popping the spent magazine out of his automatic shotgun and ramming another one home as the natives emerged from the jungle around them in force. They were coming in from too many angles in the darkness for her to get a clear count of their numbers. She picked a target, jerking her M-16 up to brace it against her shoulder, and sent one of the tribesmen to hell. Her shot tore clean through the tribesman’s skull, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. His body flopped to rest on the jungle floor. Heather whipped about zeroing in on another of the tribesmen and fired again.

  The sounds of the battle had awoken Nicholson, Flagston, and Walker. The three of them came leaping and tumbling out of the tents, trying to ready their weapons, but the tribesmen that had gotten past her and Roger were already close to melee range. The tribesmen were armed with clubs and small crudely fashioned knives. One of them brought the club he carried downward in a mighty arc at Nicholson’s skull as the tech was still trying to get to his feet from where he had rolled out of his tent. Nicholson blocked the blow with the center of his rifle. The club thudded against the gun, driving Nicholson fully to the ground. The native raised his club for another swing, but three 9mm rounds into his chest sent him stumbling backward. Walker hadn’t bothered with his rifle. He had slept with his pistol and came out of his tent firing.

  “Thanks,” Nicholson shouted, dropping his rifle as he got to his feet and drawing his own pistol, as he didn’t know if the blow from the club had damaged his rifle or not and wasn’t willing to risk trying the weapon.

  Flagston had been in the same tent as Walker, though he had made it out of it first. The little man had gut-shot a native with a burst from his P-90 and was on the move, trying to get clear of the close combat zone surrounding the tents. He dodged a native’s club that swung at him and then fired point-blank into the native on full-auto. The native’s body jerked and shook in an insane dance like motion as the rounds shredded his upper body.

  Heather heard Roger’s shotgun open up again as she dropped her third target with a shot that ruptured the tribesman’s neck and reduced it to a mess of mangled flesh. Nelson had collapsed face first where he sat by the fire and didn’t look to be moving. She hoped he wasn’t dead as a native got close enough to her to take a stab at her with his knife. He thrust the small blade at her stomach, trying to drive it into her, but she backpedaled out of his reach and then lashed out with the butt of her rifle to strike him in the jaw. Teeth and blood exploded from his mouth as her blow made contact. She followed up with another to his stomach that sent him to his knees in front of her. The tribesman looked up at her with rage and pain in his eyes as she finished him with a third blow that cracked the bone of his skull with a sick crunching sound. As his corpse slumped towards her, Heather kicked it away and out of her path as she ran to help Nicholson. He was out of his depth in combat this close. Though he had drawn his pistol, it had been knocked from his hand as one of the tribesmen tackled him. The two of them were rolling about on the jungle floor with the tribesman trying to drive the blade of his knife into Nicholson’s throat. Nicholson was straining to keep the knife at bay and he was losing the battle. Heather didn’t have a clear shot so she sprinted up behind the tribesman and hammered the backside of his head with the butt of her rifle. The tribesman grunted in pain from the blow, spittle spraying from his lips as Nicholson used the moment to fling him off. Heather aimed the barrel of her rifle at the tribesman where he lay trying to recover and get up. She squeezed the trigger, firing a three-round burst into his chest. Splashes of blood leaped into the air as the bullets tore into his ribs.

  Roger had emptied his automatic shotgun again and this time was unable to reload. A pair of tribesmen had rushed him and he had no choice but to engage them on a more personal level as one of them grabbed his right arm and tried to plant a knife in his side. Roger leaned to head-butt the tribesman holding him and then slung the stunned native into his companion. The two tribesmen found themselves sprawled out before Roger on the ground. Roger brought one of his heavy boots down on the face of the closest one. Bone crunched as the tribesman’s nose shattered. The other tribesman rolled to his feet, sneering at Roger and showing his jagged, yellow teeth. Roger grabbed hold of him, lifting the tribesman over his head and hurling him into another approaching attacker. The move gave Roger enough time to draw his sidearm. He dispatched all three of the tribesmen as his pistol cracked in rapid succession.

  The squad was holding its own so far, but Heather knew it wouldn’t last. The tribesmen greatly outnumbered them and in such close quarters, they were going to be overwhelmed unless she came up with a plan and fast.

  “Nicholson! Get the MGL!” Heather yelled, firing into a tribesman that was charging at her, club raised. The blast caused the tribesman to stagger as the rounds she put into him blew apart the center of his chest in an explosion of blood and gore. Flagston, who had suddenly moved to her side, gave her a questioning look, but that was all he had time for.

  Nicholson crawled to his pack of gear after another weapon and dug around in it as she and Flagston laid down cover fire for him. The tech ripped the MGL from his pack and swept it around at a group of approaching tribesmen. The weapon’s blare flashed as it hurled a grenade into their ranks. The ensuring explosion ripped them to shreds, raining body parts over the small clearing that the camp was in. Nicholson barely paused before he swung the MGL in the opposite direction and fired again, careful of the location of his squad mates.

  The squad’s guns might not have spooked the tribesmen, but the MGL sure as Hades did. The tribesmen broke off their attack almost at once, scurrying for the cover of the jungle. Heather’s M-16 peppered a tribesman’s back with holes as he tried t
o run. His death cry was a horrid sound as the bullets tore into him. The other members of the squad that were able took their own parting shots at their fleeing attackers. Another half dozen tribesmen died before they could escape and then everything was over as quickly as it had begun. The clearing was littered with the bodies of the dead and the dying. Roger had reloaded his pistol and walked about finishing off the few scattered, wounded tribesmen still breathing.

  Heather let out a sigh of relief, lowering her rifle. “Nicholson! Check on Mr. Nelson. See if he’s still alive.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nicholson barked, happy to being something better suited to his skill set.

  “Roger, Flagston, watch the trees. I don’t want us caught with our pants down again!” Heather shouted. “Walker, start checking over our gear to see if any of it was damaged or taken during the battle. I have a feeling we’re going to need all the firepower we brought with us and then some.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the tribesmen still hadn’t returned. Heather knew they hadn’t seen the last of them, but it looked like they might have more time than she had originally estimated while the tribesmen regrouped and recovered from the shock-and-awe method she had ordered out of desperation. Next time, they likely weren’t going to be so lucky. When they came back, and they would come back, the tribesmen would have a far greater idea of what to expect from the intruders that had violated their territory and wouldn’t be spooked so easily. She counted over two dozen corpses on the ground. She hoped that it was most of the warriors the tribe could throw at them. Most tribes in this region were likely small groups if the squad’s limited intel was correct. Heather wasn’t counting on it though.

  Walker had gotten the squad’s gear accounted for and was in the process of getting everyone ready to move out as she listened to Nicholson’s report on Nelson’s condition.