Shades of War: A Collection of Four Short Stories

by Ashton, Josh

  Approaching, Bencher took a knee next to the two soldiers and was finally able to see what had halted the patrol. It wasn't just something, it was some things, three some things, to be exact. Ramirez and Dice were carefully looking over the bodies of three North Korean Soldiers.

  Now Bencher was pissed. Really, bodies? Who gave a damn about a few bodies? After just a month of war everyone was more than used to bodies. And now that Bencher could see the corpses closer, they weren't even in that bad of shape. The gruesome war had taught him quickly to ignore all the horrors that came with it. It was time to get moving and to stop wasting time looking at a few dead North Koreans. Heaven knew that Bencher had helped create more than his fair share of corpses recently.

  Losing his temper he broke the silence and whispered viciously at Ramirez and Dice.

  "What the hell? Stop staring and get moving you two. You've seen this shit before."

  "But, Sarge, look." Dice protested his voice barely a hiss.

  "Look, what? They're just bodies. You've seen them before, you'll see them again. Let's move out."

  Ramirez defended Dice.

  "Sergeant, the bodies aren't right. Look."

  Bencher stopped looking at his men and looked at the bodies. There was something strange. Dice and Ramirez were right, something was weird about them. First of all, the bodies seemed relatively new, as in not dead that long. Again, a few weeks at war and you quickly become an expert on bodies and how bodies changed after death. It wasn't that they seemed to be fresh kills, but someone had taken the time to put them kind of in a line. What was really odd was that both their hands and feet were bound.

  But the most random thing was that at first Bencher couldn't see how they had been killed. At first glance he could make out no major wounds, but their pallor looked as if the bodies had bled out from a major trauma wound. Dice saw him studying the bodies and knew the answer to his unasked question.

  "I couldn't figure it out either at first. Look at their necks, Sarge."

  "What?"

  "The neck; someone cut their jugular."

  Bencher looked around at the bodies and the ground, thinking he was wrong. There was no blood. Not a drop on them or on the ground. The snow should have been stained red. You cut someone's neck open, they're going to bleed, and bleed a lot. Three guys with their necks opened up, there should have been something, Ramirez and Dice had to be wrong.

  Ramirez saw the confusion on his face and pointed at the neck of one of the bodies.

  "Take a look. He's right."

  Bencher took Dice's out held flashlight. Sure enough, there was a deep cut on right side of all three corpses.

  "All right, what the hell is going on here?" He asked more to himself than Dice or Ramirez.

  They answered anyway.

  "Beats the shit out of me."

  "I have no idea."

  Bencher started to hypothesize out loud.

  "It looks like they were executed, but it can't have been right here. There's no blood. So did someone dump these bodies? And who killed these Koreans? Was it their own guys? We're closer to their side than ours. It can't be us, we don't do things this way."

  Ramirez and Dice looked at him quizzically after his last comment. The war had gotten very brutal very quickly. Executing an enemy prisoner that was proving a pain was not out of the question in this new war that was being played far away from the niceties of the Geneva Convention.

  "Ok, maybe we do. But we would have just shot them."

  Dice had a thought and unfortunately he voiced it aloud. It gave Bencher the creeps as soon as he did.

  "It looks like they've just been drained. Like when we used to slaughter animals back on the farm, you let them drain out. When finally you gut them it's less messy."

  He paused but still mumbled to himself.

  "Yep, they've been drained."

  All three men stared at the bodies. Bencher started to shiver. It wasn't the cold though. It was Dice's words that gave him the chill. Drained. I sure as hell hope not. Enough of this, it was time to wrap this patrol up. They'd been out long enough as is. Bencher was just about to tell Ramirez and Dice to start moving back to their own lines when a scream came ripping through the forest.

  It was the pitched wailing scream of a man in agony. It was so loud that it carried above the wind. The scream rose to a height of agony then slowly faded out as if it was like the volume of a radio being slowly turned to nothing.

  Again came the silence. Just the wind and the snow and three tired soldiers trapped in the middle of a Korean winter. The silence lasted only for a moment, then came another sound. If the scream was not startling enough, the next sound though not as loud but was far more disturbing. This sound was softer but more difficult to comprehend. Carried on the wind the sound was barely perceptible. The sound hung there disgustingly like bad joke teasing the men.

  Slrrp... Slrrp... Slrrp...

  At first Bencher couldn't tell what it was. It was as if his mind recoiled from the idea of what he might be hearing. His resistance shattered, he knew what he was hearing; it was the sound of someone drinking.

  Bencher turned in the snow and ran back to where the rest of the squad waited shivering in the cold. He gave a few quick orders and brought the rest of the squad through the forest to where Dice and Ramirez were waiting. The awful slurping sound was still there, drifting with the wind. If anything it was getting a little louder. Deep in the hollow pit of his stomach, Bencher wanted to lead the patrol away from the sound. Safety and warmth were only few kilometers away. He and his men could just say they heard the wind. Shouldn't some sounds be left alone? But this was his patrol and he knew what was his duty. His next orders were simple.

  "OK, were going to go take a look at what that sound is. We all know things have been real weird lately. "

  "No, shit." Ramirez interrupted.

  "Shut it, Ramirez. OK, we're going to go real slow. I want to know what's out there, but I don't want to get popped by any surprise. Let's use a slow bounding over watch as the formation. Nice and quiet, OK?"

  His squad all nodded at him in agreement and started moving into position. Bencher raised his hand with his pinky finger and thumb extended. It wasn't text book signal, but his squad knew what he meant. The men moved into a loose triangle that they called a wedge like formation. Another hand signal and the squad moved towards the terrible sound that was so loud that it was carrying over the storm.

  In Bencher's mind each step was too loud. His breath seemed to be amplified. His every conscious thought was screaming at him that he and the squad were too loud. The forest tonight was a weird mix of darkness, blinding snow, and just enough light to make thing incredibly eerie. Because of the darkness and snow he could only see the man to his right and left. Who knew what was going on out there.

  He had placed himself at the point of the wedge. Whatever they found, Bencher wanted to be the first to find it. He had kept Ramirez up on his left and the kid, Dice on his right. He trusted Ramirez, he had his stuff together. Dice was OK but still a bit jumpy.

  The sound suddenly stopped. Only the wind and snow remained. What the hell had it been? Why did it stop? When the sound stopped, Bencher realized that he had unconsciously stopped moving forward also. Conversely, he could tell that the rest of the squad had stopped following his lead.

  He canted his head, trying to hear better, but there was nothing. He started forward again. He only took just a few more steps and there in the blinding snow he found something insane. He also found the sound. A figure was hunched over in the snow; it's back bent and contorted as it pressed its face towards the earth. Then the sound started again.

  Slrrp... Slrrp... Slrrp...

  The figure started to heave and shudder in rhythm with the sound. Bencher was hypnotized. He took it all in. The figure was shaking and shuddering, the terrible sound, and finally the visual knowledge that the figure was bent over a human body. In almost a lovers embrace, the figure's face was firmly clasp
ed to the neck of the body.

  I'm actually watching something drink from a human. What the fuck is going on?

  His rifle came to his shoulder. He flicked the safety off. The click was clearly audible in the night. So were the sounds of nine other safeties being shifted. The rest of the squad had come up online with Bencher. The whole squad was hypnotized by what they were seeing, but all of them had their weapons pointed at the figure in the snow drinking. The creature or whatever it was had not noticed their arrival. It appeared clueless to the nine soldiers with weapons pointing at it. Bencher wanted a closer look. There was something familiar about the thing.

  "Cover me." He hissed at the squad.

  It took all his will power to take that first step. He inched his right foot forward and then his left followed. He took less than ten steps. His weapon at the ready, he closed the distance to the feral creature that was imbibing human blood. With each step his heart pounded louder in his chest. His mind started screaming at him. No, no, no, no. It was no creature. It was a human. A human was drinking another human.

  Bencher was close. So damn close. He should have just shot the thing. He really should have. What kind person does this to another? But Bencher couldn't do it; It wasn't just a human, it was a soldier, a US soldier. The figure was wearing the same uniform as Bencher. And now that he was just a foot away, Bencher could see the whole act clearly.

  The Korean's head was pulled back at an impossible angle. The soldier's mouth was wide open, fastened on the neck of the dead Korean. There was the horrible slurping sound, and the soldier's body shuddering almost in ecstasy as it drank. Bencher extended the muzzle of the rifle and poked the soldier in its back.

  The soldier rolled off the body and came up in half crouch in front of Bencher. The soldier stood and smiled, blood stained her teeth. She moved her hand and wiped a trickle of blood from her lips, and then licked the drops from her hand. They both stood there staring at each for moment. And recognition hit them at the same time. Bencher knew the soldier.

  "Ma'am, is that you?"

  The female soldier canted her as if considering.

  "I think so." Pausing again, then a sigh, almost as if talking to herself. "Right. It was bound to happen." She focused again on Bencher. "It's good to see you too, Sergeant. How've you been?"

  Bencher ignored the question.

  "What the hell are you doing, ma'am?"

  "What does it look like, sergeant, killing the enemy."

  A sick giggle.

  "OK, maybe a little more than killing."

  Bencher looked at the female. Then down at the body she had been using. But there wasn't just one body, here were six more bodies lying around the forest nearby. Then he noticed that there were mounds of snow all around him in the clearing. Each snow covered mound was the perfect shape of a human body, and there were dozens of them. Captain Amy Reynolds, Sergeant First Class Bencher's former battalion supply officer, had been very busy.

  Section III

  Home is the Hunter

  She was surrounded, but she didn't mind. They were scared of her. And maybe they should be. Recently she was scared of herself. Captain Amy Reynolds had changed lately, and what really scared her is that she liked it. She didn't even think of herself as a Captain in the US military any more. Mostly she thought of herself as Amy, just Amy. It was easier to live with herself if she thought like that. Sergeant Bencher had insisted that she be brought back into the lines. She had half-heartedly tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary and it was just fine, but he had been insistent. She had not wanted to rock the boat too much.

  The men around her refused to sit. She had tried multiple times to reassure the squad of soldiers that found her that she was really harmless to them, but they remained guarded. So in the dim light of the bunker she waited, wondering what would come next. Her own experience over the last few weeks since the EMPs rocked the Korean Peninsula had been insane. Right now she was getting tired of waiting around. She knew what she was now. It didn't really do any good sitting around talking about it.

  She looked over at Bencher who had escorted her to this bunker.

  "What are we waiting for?"

  Bencher was terse. "We’re waiting for him."

  "Who is “him”?"

  "Sorry, the General."

  "The General? He survived?" She was amazed at the revelation. She had assumed that most of the command would have been wiped out.

  "Yes, he did. He's what kept us together."

  "Right, so how many of us are left?"

  She could tell the question stuck a cord with Bencher. For a brief instant his face changed into a countenance of deep, painful sadness.

  "Not a lot. Not a lot at all. But we're still here and we're still fighting." In answering, she saw his resolve harden. This was the experienced NCO that she knew.

  Just then he entered the bunker. The men guarding her quickly straightened to attention, and Amy found herself jumping to attention as well. In a side observation, she noted that the man who had walked into the room had that kind of presence. He wasn't overly tall or overly short, and in actuality there was nothing in his appearance or stature that commanded special attention. But when he entered the room, you felt a presence and knew this man was in charge. This man was not just an officer, this man was the General.

  The General came and stood in front of Amy, and old habits from years of training came right back. Still at attention, she saluted the superior officer.

  "Captain Reynolds, reporting as ordered, sir."

  The General returned the salute.

  "Have a seat, Captain."

  The captain sat down and the General pulled a chair from the wall and sat down across from her.

  The General met her eyes with a piercing gaze and got right to the point.

  "Why don't you tell me where you've been the last month, captain?"

  "Well..."

  Amy had asked herself that question a lot over the last few weeks and wondered how she would explain what she was doing and what had happened to her. In the end she felt that honesty would be the only true path. No hesitation. It was too late now.

  "I've been feeding, general."

  She had thought that her answer would shock the general. Instead in reply to her answer, she got a tight lipped smile.

  "Yes, so I've been told," He paused. "So how many men have you fed on?"

  Amy looked around the room at the other soldiers, she felt ashamed to answer.

  "I don't know." She paused. "Dozens. Probably more, maybe hundreds, to be honest. I don't keep track."

  The General continued to meet her eyes. "Why don't you tell me how it works."

  "How what works?" Amy replied too quickly.

  The General sternly reminded her why he was a general and she was just a captain.

  Don't get cute, captain. You know what I'm talking about. Sergeant Bencher there has told me what he saw you doing, and he has told me what he thinks you have been doing. So, tell me why you have been doing it and how it works."

  "Right,well, I just feel this insane need. It over comes me, and I have to have it. It gets to the point where it's the only thing that matters."

  "By it, you mean blood don't you?"

  She had lowered head for as she confessed her new addiction. She slowly raised her eyes and looked at the General.

  "Yes, yes, I need blood." She relented.

  "Good. I don't like tap dancing around facts, no matter how brutal or ugly. If we're to survive here, we don't have time for niceties."

  Amy nodded her head in agreement. Things were so far gone now survival was the only option.

  "So back to my first question, keep explaining it to me,” the General prodded her.

  "No, it just comes over me and I need all I can get. I kill and take what I want, all I can get."

  "Are you ever satisfied?" He kept probing.

  "Not really. It never goes away. It just kind of dies down, but it comes roaring back."

&
nbsp; The General thought for a moment, then asked another question.

  "Not that it's important, but I'm fascinated: you're kind of a short little thing, how do you kill?"

  Thinking of her kills, Amy felt that desire start to build in her, and she giggled her answer.

  "Oh, I don't need a weapon. I'm much faster and stronger than I was."

  "I'm sure you are," The general's voice had a sardonic tone. "And when your targets are down, then what?"

  "Simple, I use my pocket knife puncture their jugulars and drink. I just drink until there is nothing left."

  "That's a lot of blood."

  Without thinking Amy contradicted him.

  "No it's not. It’s never enough."

  The general didn't answer that he just stared down the captain.

  "Right, sorry, sir."

  "It's OK, I need to be more patient with new things," He rolled his eyes upward. "You would think by now I would be used to it. Where were we?

  "The blood, sir."

  "OK, so from a scientific point of view, that's a lot of fluid. Where does it all go?"

  "I don't know, but I feel energized after drinking. I haven't felt cold in months. I honestly don't feel much. I just feel the need to feed."

  The General leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as if contemplating. Then very deliberately he pulled his pistol from his holster and pointed it directly at Amy's chest.

  "I have one last question for you, Captain, and you better be honest with me, do you understand?"

  Amy looked at the pistol. She knew she could take it away from him before he fired, but that wasn't the point. She really didn't have to have followed Bencher back from the forest. It just felt right; it felt right to be back here. It was a relief to explain to someone what she was going through. She made up her mind to subject herself to this man's decision.