by Lundy, W. J.
Masterson lifted the radio back to his lips and whispered into it. “Two-Six, this is Four Actual.” He held it to his ear, waiting for a response that Jacob couldn’t hear. “Roger, Two-Six, we have ’em seven strong, lightly armed. I’m tracking a second group of nine to their east… Roger, waiting to engage. Four Actual out.”
Jacob felt his heart rate increase as he blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the man in coveralls. The strange man continued marching on the trail, moving directly in line with the prepared ambush. Jacob exhaled audibly and let his finger caress the trigger.
“Let them come… just a bit closer,” Masterson whispered into his ear. “They get close enough, you can see the black gel in their eyes… let them get on top of you… ya can smell them, that skunky, shit smell. Let them see you and they let out that scream, like a bitch hyena. That’s a scream you’ll hear in your nightmares.”
Jacob held his silence, not knowing how to respond to the drill sergeant’s commentary.
“But you already know that, don’t ya? Hell, you were at the castle,” Masterson said sarcastically. “You probably got it all figured out.”
As the man in coveralls came closer, Jacob kept the reticule over the man’s chest. He let it drift up and now clearly saw the man’s gnarled reptilian face; its forehead was heavily bridged, its neck scaled with gray flesh. He had closed to within two football fields—well within Jacob’s comfort zone. The blackened eyes were now visible in the scope. Jacob focused the cross hairs high on the man’s chest, tightened his grip, and whispered, “On target.”
“Take the shot.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
His rifle barked, deploying a 7.62-caliber bullet downrange at 2,800 feet per second, crossing the field in the fraction of a second. With his system full of adrenaline, Jacob didn’t feel the kick of the M14 rifle. He kept his eye to the scope and watched intently as the man in coveralls took his last step. The creature’s body shuddered then crumpled to the trail, a solid hit to the upper chest. A line of outbound tracers filled his view as Jesse let loose a long burst from his M240 Golf machine gun. Rounds from below zipped up at them, seeming to arc over their heads at the last second. Jacob instinctively flinched and ducked down, then felt Masterson’s hand on his shoulder.
“Keep scanning, boy. You got one in the open returning fire. You got him; he’s at your five o’clock, hundred and fifty meters.”
Jacob forced his fear to the back as he pressed his eye to the scope, panning away from the creature he’d already dropped. He found the new target, a man in flannel, walking forward with an AK47. Jacob had already shifted his rifle to the right, placing the cross-hair center mass. The thing showed no fear, firing at them from in the open with its weapon raised while letting out long bursts of automatic fire, the tracers racing in Jacob’s direction.
“Got ‘em!” Jacob shouted. He pulled the rifle close to his shoulder, letting his finger caress the trigger.
“Then drop his ass,” Masterson said.
Jacob eased back on the trigger in one smooth motion. The rifle responded, and he watched the man fall back.
“Hit,” Masterson shouted over the noise of the firing. “There’s another just behind him, get on target.”
Jacob pivoted. Finding the next target, he focused on the man. “Got him. On target,” he said, remembering his training.
“Fire,” Masterson said.
Jacob squeezed back the trigger and watched the side of the man’s head vanish in a puff of red. Rounds pounded in the ground ahead of him. Jacob turned away then shifted, searching for the next target: a man running directly at them. Jacob dropped his point of aim, leading the man as he ran. “On target,” he said.
“Drop him.”
Before he could fire again, rounds tore into the man from behind. He watched as the creature’s body contorted and twisted to the ground. Jacob took his eye from the scope and looked into the grassy field below. Men in dark camouflage were running from the trees, rifles up, engaging the remaining others still on their feet. The camouflaged men rushed forward in line, firing rapidly and effectively knocking down the last of the alien invaders. Soon a small dark-green Jeep left the trees with a man standing behind a mounted machine gun. The big gun opened up and swept the field where the last of the Delta resistance remained.
“Hold your fire,” Masterson shouted to the group. Jesse fired several more rounds before his gun fell silent, the barrel belching white smoke. They watched from the high ground as the Canadian patrol exited the forest, killing the remaining creatures below. A man turned and looked up at them, shooting them a mock salute. Masterson fired one back. Jacob sat leaning on his heels and lifted his rifle to his chest, dropping the box magazine and replacing it with a full one. Masterson climbed to his feet and moved away toward the driver of the truck.
Jacob slumped, exhausted, letting the rifle lean against his slack firing arm. He observed the soldiers below emerge from the tree line. They moved among the dead, routinely kicking and rolling over the bodies of the creatures. He wondered how often they did this sort of thing. Is The Darkness really this close to the gates?
Jesse stood and moved next to him, dropping close beside him. He snatched a canteen from his pack and took a long drink before handing it to Jacob.
“That was intense. Is it always like this?” Jesse asked him.
Jacob took a drink from the canteen and used his sleeve to wipe the drops of water from his chin. “What do you mean? The fighting?”
Jesse took the canteen back and replaced the cap. He pulled his machine gun close to him. “Yeah, you’ve done this before, right? I’ve heard some of them talk… they say you’re already hard,” his friend said, laughing.
“I didn’t do shit, Jesse. Most of the time, I was afraid of dying. I just did what I was told,” Jacob answered before looking away.
Jesse bit at his lower lip and looked down at his dirt-covered hands. “Hey, bro, I didn’t mean nothing by it. I’m sorry if I said something out of line.”
Before Jacob could respond, Masterson was back on his feet, shouting at the men to return to the truck. Jesse moved first, leaping to his feet. Then, lending a hand to Jacob, the big man pulled him up with ease. They double-timed it to the rear of the truck and joined the others already aboard. Jacob sat against the tailgate watching Masterson brief a man with a Canadian flag patch on his shoulder who’d climbed up the hill.
The Canadian soldier held out a map. He waved his hand across the landscape, pointing out distant terrain features. Masterson nodded to the man then looked back at the truck. He put his hands on his hips and spit into the tall grass before shaking the soldier’s hand. Masterson nodded his head again and returned to the truck.
The drill sergeant walked past the vehicle’s bed, stopping momentarily to look over the soldiers sitting in the back. He stopped and took a quick head count. He proceeded on then paused, looking directly at Jesse before turning his gaze to Jacob. “Everyone good?” he asked in a tone that was softer than usual.
“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” they responded in unison.
Masterson turned to look back at the Canadians, who were walking down the hill to the dead in the field. “Okay then,” he said, slapping the side of the truck before entering the cab.
The truck roared to life, backing up swiftly and causing Jacob to nearly fall. He pushed his muddy boots against the bed of the truck to steady himself. Leaning back and feeling Jesse pressed in beside him, Jacob looked up at the three other men across from him. Younger than him and Jesse, all three were in their late twenties. Jacob hadn’t gotten to know them, the pace of the training and limited downtime making it nearly impossible.
Jacob watched the men push close together as the truck bounced down the road. They returned through the perimeter gate and followed the fence back to the garrison area. Jacob recognized some of the buildings… the hospital where he was treated, and the gate to the housing area where he knew Laura and Katy were staying. The men watched over th
e rails of the truck as they passed through the familiar site. The driver didn’t stop; he continued on then turned onto the gravel road that returned them to the recruit training camp.
As they approached, Jacob could see the rest of the recruits formed up on the limestone lot, standing at ease as they waited. The truck drove close and stopped. Masterson and the driver exited, the latter quickly moving to the rear to drop the tailgate as Masterson stood beside him. Jacob and the others rolled out from the truck, holding their gear. They scrambled ahead, moving toward the rest of the men formed up on the gravel lot.
“Anderson, Winslow, you two stand fast,” Masterson said, stopping them. “The rest of you, back in the barracks and get cleaned up for chow.”
Jacob stepped back and put his M14 on his shoulder; he looked to Jesse, who shrugged his shoulders. Masterson went on his way, leaving Jacob and Jesse alone by the back of the truck.
“You think we did something wrong?” Jesse whispered. “What does he want with us now?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure we are about to find out.”
Masterson called the waiting formed-up recruits to attention then turned them over to another drill sergeant, who led the group of men off to the evening meal. The old soldier turned and looked back at Jacob with a shake of his head before slowly striding toward them.
“What’s going on, Drill Sergeant?” Jesse asked.
Masterson forced a grin. “You can drop the Drill Sergeant shit. Your time here is done; your training will continue elsewhere.”
Jacob stood, confused, as fear welled in his belly, thinking he’d failed. “I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”
“Nahh, it ain’t that,” Masterson said, reaching into a shirt pocket and stuffing a wad of tobacco into his lip. “You’re moving on… both of you. I’d be lying if I say I didn’t envy you. A soldier shouldn’t be back here in the rear at a time like this.”
“Moving?” Jesse asked.
“The Darkness is infiltrating north faster than anyone had anticipated. They hit us this morning—just a small group, but they managed to do a lot of damage. That little piece you saw was just a fraction of what came at us. We are starting to learn how they work. If they’re here, and they know where we are, they’ll come back. If they manage to get established someplace close, they will multiply.
“That unit we supported earlier has an outfit preparing to move out. They lost a couple of men recently and turns out you’re going to replace them.”
Masterson looked Jacob in the eye. “You must have friends in high places, because they asked for you by name. I would have turned them down, but he had paperwork authorizing it.”
“Hell yeah,” Jesse said, putting a fist up to Jacob.
Jacob ignored the gesture and looked to Masterson. “Who? Where are we going?”
Masterson laughed. “I don’t know, guys. But listen, I watched you both today; you’ll do fine, but you aren’t ready yet. You need to listen to your sergeants; maybe you’ll stay alive long enough to learn something. Now go toss your weapons in the back of that supply truck. You won’t be needing them anymore. Two-Six will outfit you with all the new gear and rifles you’ll need downrange. Go grab your shit out of the barracks; your pickup will be here in ten mikes and you need to be ready to go when it arrives.”
“Can I see my family before we leave?” Jacob asked.
Masterson looked at Jacob, letting his jaw soften. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time. You just take care of yourself, okay? I’ll look in on your family and let them know you’ve moved out. Ten mikes; don’t miss your ride. Good luck, gentleman.” Masterson turned to walk away, leaving them alone and confused.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jacob was cold and wet; he couldn’t remember a time ever feeling such pain and discomfort from the weather. His jaw ached from shivering, his body cramped, and his legs numbed where they pressed against the cold steel of the Ford pickup truck. It’d been raining for hours and he was soaked to the bone, the green wool blanket doing little to comfort him.
The vehicle had pulled into the barracks lot just after sunset. Jacob and Jesse rushed into the back of the old pickup truck just as the rain began. They’d been driving for over an hour down broken gravel back roads, avoiding the main highways, entering dark forests and hilly terrain. He tried to follow the street signs and look into the small guarded villages where soldiers patrolled the streets and all windows and doors were tightly secured. Jacob quickly lost track of where they were as the weather gradually turned worse and he resorted to lying low against the cab to hide from the rain.
Jacob removed the blanket from his face; Jesse was sleeping across from him, barely visible in the dark night. He was wrapped in a blanket of his own with his body sprawled out in the bed of the truck, bouncing and swaying with every bump. As the wind blew more pelting rain into his eyes, Jacob pulled the blanket tight, shielding his face.
The truck came to a halt on a dark, muddy road. The driver’s door swung out, squeaking against rusted metal. A tired, bearded man wearing a faded lime-green camouflage parka and a floppy hat with water running off the brim stepped into the cold rain. He had the hard look of a warrior. The man could easily fit in as a barbarian with a large axe and horned helmet. He pointed up the hill to a small log cabin with a barn behind it. There was a thin sliver of light in a front window between the heavy drapes.
“That’s home for tonight, boys. Get your stuff so we can get inside before we all drown,” he said before reaching back into the truck’s cab and grabbing his own bag. He stepped away and slammed the door, waking Jesse. Jesse rolled to the side and looked up at Jacob, confused.
“Let’s go,” the man shouted, losing patience. He took another step toward the building then paused to allow Jacob and Jesse to gather behind him.
The man led them up a muddy path toward the cabin’s porch while lightning flashed behind them, showing the way in strobes of light. The bearded man moved ahead of them and stopped just before the door. A large barrel-chested guard dressed in a similar camouflage parka, wearing a dark, wool watch cap moved out of the shadows and looked them over. The two men exchanged words and a low laugh. The guard stepped closer and used a small light, shining it in Jacob’s eyes. “These are the cherries; just picked them up at the orchard,” the driver said.
“Not much to look at, are they? But they’re clear, at least… no infection here,” the guard answered with a nod. He stepped aside, allowing the driver and the others to enter the room.
The bearded man looked back. “Don’t take it personal, rookie. Everyone gets checked for infection on arrival,” he said. “Especially cherries.”
The man left the door open, allowing Jacob to follow him into the warm, open space. The guard quickly closed the door behind them as Jesse paused before following them in. The bearded man approached an old, stone fireplace and tossed pieces of split wood to the hot coals. The wood soon burned brightly, heat radiating off the stonework.
The man shed his wet clothing and hung it on wooden hooks so that the fabric dangled near the flame then knelt down beside the fire to warm his hands while water dripped from his soaked beard. He turned back toward Jacob and Jesse and pointed at a far wall. “That’s your spot over there. Drop your gear and get cozy. You ain’t going anywhere ’til morning, so you might as well get comfortable for the time being,” he grunted before turning back to the warmth of the fire.
Jacob walked to the far wall and dropped his bag, hanging the wet wool blanket over the back of a chair to dry. They were in a rustic one-room cabin lit only by the fire blazing in the large fireplace. The windows were all covered with dark drapes, and the floor was made of rough-sawn boards fitted tight and held in place by flathead nails. The floor in front of the fire was covered by a thick rug made of animal fur. On the opposite wall, Jacob spotted the forms of sleeping men near a table in the corner with chairs scattered around it.
He turned to look at Jesse, who was still groggy from
his nap in the back of the truck. Jesse was the type who could sleep anytime, anywhere, and on command. The big man dropped his bag and stumbled to the wall then sat back against it. He looked around the room wearily before rubbing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Jacob was suddenly envious of his friend’s tenacity to rest. He watched as Jesse’s head dipped to the side then rolled back, snoring.
Being ignored by the bearded man at the fire, and his only friend having returned to sleep, Jacob stood, feeling suddenly alone. He was still shivering, his uniform drenched with the cold rainwater that permeated to his bones and made his joints ache. The growling in his stomach reminded him that he’d missed the evening meal to catch his ride. Thunder clapped outside and wind beat hard, pelting rain against the sides of the cabin. For a moment, he missed his warm bed and the furnace in the old training barracks.
Jacob stepped closer into the light of the fire, unzipped his jacket, and let it drop to the large stone mantle. He then moved closer yet to the glowing embers, feeling the warmth as it caused his wet T-shirt to steam. The man turned and looked at him, seeing the agony on Jacob’s face matched by the shivering of his body. “You should be thankful for the rain.”
“What?” Jacob asked, puzzled. “Is this one of those farmer things, good for the crops and flowers and all that shit?”
Showing bright white teeth through his thick beard, the man smiled and squatted down to the mantle, sitting with his back to the fire as he untied his boots. “No, just makes it easier for us to maneuver. The Deltas don’t like it; not sure why, but they seem to hunker down when the weather turns foul like this. Especially cold, miserable nights like this one.”
“Deltas?” Jacob asked.
