Ranger

by William Stacey

  Then, just for a moment, he thought he heard something to his left. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Larry, ears standing up, staring in the same direction, at a copse of bushes surrounding a large oak tree. The wind had pushed over several smaller trees so that their broken trunks caught against the oak, creating a deadfall. Bark frayed from brittle branches, and moss and pinecones covered the forest floor—except at the rear of the deadfall, indicating the passage of feet had cleared the ground. The position had a good field of view of the trails through the woods leading northeast into the sheltered loop in the river. When he smelled the distinctive whiff of a wood fire, Alex smiled.

  They had found the camp.

  Remaining prone, he turned his head and waited until both Leela and Sammy were watching him. Then he motioned to the clump of trees, and both nodded. Sammy edged forward, his airbow ready. Leela, understanding all too well that Witch-Bane would negate her magic, moved away from Alex. When they were ready, Alex crawled forward, stopping often to lie still and listen. They took over ten minutes to crawl behind the deadfall, but when they were finally close enough, he saw the sentries—two boggarts, each watching the woods. They wore human clothing, thick layers of sweaters and jackets, with holes cut into the sweaters to fit their small inner arms, and both carried scoped hunting rifles in their muscular outer arms. Alex knew boggarts couldn't use a human scope with their oversized fish eyes. They aimed by looking over the barrel and guessing. But they didn't need to hit them to wake the camp, just shoot or yell. The boggarts would do neither.

  Alex indicated the boggart on his right, and Sammy, lying on Alex's right, bobbed his head, message understood. Alex raised his airbow and aimed through his scope. Then he lifted his left hand from the airbow's forestock and held up all five fingers. One by one, he curled his thumb and fingers into a fist. As the last finger tightened, he transferred his grip once more to the forestock, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. He and Sammy fired nearly simultaneously. The only sound was the hiss of the arrows darting forward. Alex's arrow impaled his boggart through the neck, pinning it to the oak's trunk. He didn't see where Sammy's arrow hit, but the other boggart fell over.

  Two hits, two kills.

  They reloaded their airbows, confident of their silent takedown, when Leela jumped up and ran forward, ripping the airbow from Alex's hands. Alex stiffened with alarm, his senses supercharged. What had he missed? Leela raised the airbow to her shoulder and discharged the weapon, shooting up into the tree's branches. A hunting rifle fell with a thud followed by a figure—a dark-elf warrior who had been hiding in the upper branches of the tree. The arrow from the airbow was embedded in the dark elf's throat, his yellow eyes open in death. Alex had missed him. Unlike the boggarts, this one wore chain mail armor and a dark-green cloak.

  Sammy exhaled, shaking his head as he squeezed Leela's shoulder in gratitude, moving past her to check the other corpses. Leela handed Alex back his airbow.

  He mouthed, "Thank you." He wasn't too proud to admit Leela had just saved the mission—and likely their lives. But he still didn't want her here.

  They carried the corpses to the river and tossed them in while Leela sat in concentration. Alex didn't need to ask to know she was trying to detect mana use, to see if the dark elves knew they were here. Bekka would have done the same. All mages, dark elf or human, could detect another's magic use, to varying degrees. Leela and Bekka were okay at it. Cassie had been remarkable. Leela met Alex's gaze and shook her head. They'd still need to hurry now, though. Once someone came to relieve the sentries and found them gone, they'd raise the alarm.

  They returned for the others and moved past the now-deserted sentry post, slipping northeast to a high feature that overlooked the loop in the river. In the east, the sky was lightening, presaging the dawn. Within an hour, the camp would rise. They needed to set the timers and get out of here. Just enough time.

  Once they reached the summit of the high ground, they saw the tents and campfire coals in a gully on the other side, only three hundred meters away. The camp was where he had assessed it would be—protected on three sides by the river and with high ground on the north and south to act as a windbreak and natural cover. There were hundreds of small tents and temporary shelters laid out in concentric circles within the gully. From experience, he knew they'd find trolls and boggarts in the outer circles, with the dark elves protected within, and the mages in the center. The hellhounds, dozens, were lying together for warmth near the river. Alex's excitement grew. This was by far the largest of the three Remnant camps they had found. Time to get to work.

  He pointed at Dallas, Henry, and Sammy, then across the gully to the far side to the northwest. They nodded and slipped away. Alex wet his finger, once more checking the wind direction—still blowing from the south and moving toward the Remnant camp. The plan was to set both canisters near the gully entrance three hundred meters apart. The Cyclosarin, heavier than air, would sink to the low ground—where the camp sat. They'd still kill hundreds of innocent animals, but it was an acceptable price to pay to wipe out the enemy. He felt Leela staring at him and was grateful he couldn't see her eyes through her NVGs.

  Gracie and Royce removed their silenced sniper rifles and placed their gas masks over their faces, securing the hoods tightly around the masks before slipping their gloves onto their hands. They were now in MOPP Level 4—Mission Oriented Protection Posture 4, the highest state of readiness in a toxic environment. The brothers lay prone, sighting through their sniper rifles while wearing the masks. You could do just about anything while in MOPP 4 if you set your mind to it, but everything was harder.

  He motioned for Anjie and Leela to follow him then led the two women back down the back of the hill, circling to the gully opening to the northwest. Once again, Larry and Curly moved forward first, scouting the way, with Mo accompanying Alex. The dogs were exposed, but if everything went as planned, the dogs and rangers would be long gone before the canisters released their payload. The Sanchez brothers would provide overwatch while both teams set their deadly weapons. Then they'd boogie back to the trucks, as if the devil were chasing them. Two days from now, they'd return and burn the corpses—and this time, the animal carcasses.

  When they reached the gully entrance, with Dallas's team out of sight to the north, Alex removed the Cyclosarin canister from its carrying case and set it on the forest floor before him, the valve pointing toward the camp. Then they removed their NVGs. Anjie donned her gas mask and gloves while Alex helped Leela with hers, holding his palm against the air intake on the filter canister as she inhaled to make sure the seal was airtight. He pulled the zipper of her hood up tight around her gas mask before securing the Velcro strap over it. When she was as safe as he could get her under the circumstances, he donned his own gear. Alex waited a few minutes while his eyes adjusted to the darkness, then he picked up the timer, preparing to set it to open the canister's valve.

  He dropped the timer in surprise when a massive lightning barrage turned night to day, hammering the land to the south only a kilometer away. They stared in shock as multicolored chain lightning beat the forest, exploding in balls of fire. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, or even imagined—a cosmic fireworks show.

  The stench of ozone filled the air, so strong he smelled it through the charcoal filter of his gas mask. This many lightning strikes were impossible.

  Leela gasped, yanking the gas mask from her face. She stared wide-eyed at Alex. "We need to go, now!"

  He pulled away his own mask. The hellhounds howled, barking madly. "What… what's happened?"

  They heard the camp come to life at once, hundreds of boggarts and dark elves yelling in consternation and excitement. They saw figures dart through the trees, several holding lit torches. Mo whined. Larry and Curly had already bolted.

  Anjie grasped at Alex's sleeve. "They're moving this way."

  Alex picked up the canister and shoved it beneath his load-bearing vest against his combat shirt. He
patted the ground for the timer but couldn't find it in the darkness.

  "Alex, now," insisted Leela.

  The fear in his wife's voice galvanized him, and he let the timer be, rising into a crouch. "What's going on?"

  "Magic," she said. "There's so much mana in the air. I've only felt this twice before—seven years ago when I became a mag-sens for the first time, and a year later when the dark elves invaded."

  He stared at her. "What—"

  Leela grabbed his wrist. "It's another gateway, Alex. And we're between the Remnants and their way home!"

  His fear spiked, and he activated his MBITR. "Guys, everyone break! Make for the vehicles. The mission is scrubbed!"

  "Contact, contact!" He heard Dallas's terrified voice over the radio followed by the roar of gunfire and the howls of hellhounds. "Alex, we're in the shit!"

  8

  Alex stared breathlessly toward the sound of gunfire as several weapons opened up. The howls of the hellhounds grew in intensity and rage. Flames lit up the night, with shadows darting about. A hand grenade detonated. He tensed, preparing to rush forward. Dallas and the others were fighting… dying.

  "Alex," insisted Leela, gripping his arm and stopping him. "We can't help them."

  He stared at her in confusion.

  "Shit," she said, looking past him, wild-eyed. "Someone's using magic."

  A fireball blossomed over the trees—where Dallas, Sammy, and Henry were fighting.

  The gunfire stopped.

  "Enemy right!" Anjie called out, her voice surprisingly calm as she raised her rifle to her shoulder. At least a dozen boggarts with a pair of trolls crashed through the trees, heading for them. Alex and Leela dropped to a knee, and he discarded his airbow, desperately trying to untangle his rifle from his back. Mo growled, his hackles rising.

  Too long, he knew. Any second, they're going to see us, then—

  One troll fell forward, the top of its horned head gone. The others froze, staring at the corpse in confusion. Then a boggart flew forward several paces as if punched in the back. The boggarts spun, looking in all directions, understanding they were under attack. Another boggart fell away, a gaping hole in his chest and an even larger one in his back.

  Gracie and Royce.

  Alex's radio activated. "You gonna stay there all day, jefe?" Gracie asked.

  Anjie was already moving, and Leela was urging him on. Alex, his assault rifle finally untangled, grabbed Leela and pulled her along with him as they ran after Anjie, heading south toward the vehicles. Mo ran beside them. To the east, the horizon turned crimson.

  Alex, Leela, and Anjie ran, leaping over fallen trees. Soon, they were gasping for air, and Alex let them take a quick breather. Anjie handed Leela a plastic canteen, and the other woman drank.

  Alex scanned the dark woods behind them, which were already lightening with the coming dawn. He saw the individual trees now but nothing moving. For what felt like the tenth time in several minutes, he tried the radio. "Dallas, Gracie… anyone, status report?"

  Far too close, a hellhound's angry howl through the trees was his only response.

  He turned away, his face burning with shame. "We need to keep moving."

  "Right," Leela croaked. She wiped a forearm across her mouth and handed the canteen to him.

  He finished it then stuffed the empty canteen under his load-bearing vest—next to the Cyclosarin canister—before following Anjie and Leela.

  They headed south, avoiding the forest where the lightning strikes had taken place to the southwest, where Leela claimed a gateway had opened. The chain lightning had stopped—mostly. Occasionally, lightning still struck the nearby forest.

  After six years, was this another invasion?

  It took Alex a moment to realize Mo had stopped behind him. He turned and saw the dog facing the woods, his hackles raised, a low growl coming from him. Oh shit, Alex thought, a chill coursing through him as three hellhounds appeared through the bushes, their red eyes glowing. One hellhound coughed, sending a small torrent of flames to light on fire a nearby bush.

  Alex brought his rifle up, switching the fire selector to auto with his thumb. Before he could fire, a white-hot bolt of lightning arced past him, so close he felt its searing heat. The bolt slammed into the lead hellhound, sending it flying back to smash into a tree trunk, shattering bark and leaving the hellhound smoking and dead. The other two monsters surged forward, one charging Mo, the other coming at Alex. He took aim at the one coming at him, his finger tightening on the trigger, just as Larry and Curly reappeared from the foliage and leaped into the hellhound attacking Mo. The two dogs and hellhound became a snarling tangle of fur and teeth. Mo surged forward, throwing himself into the fight to help his brothers. Alex fired at the other hellhound, letting loose with a short burst before his weapon stopped, an empty casing stuck in the ejection port—a jam.

  Someone slammed into him from behind, knocking him down. A moment later, a rifle opened up above him with a long burst of automatic fire. He rolled aside as the hellhound slammed into whoever had pushed him.

  He jumped to his feet, dropping his rifle and drawing Witch-Bane. The hellhound was atop Anjie, its jaws around her throat. He gripped a handful of oily fur atop the hellhound's head and shoved the point of the short sword into the base of its neck, ramming the blade up and into the beast's brain with one thrust.

  The hellhound went limp, but he was too late for Anjie. Her throat was a ruined gash, her windpipe exposed, blood drenching her from face to waist. She stared at him, her eyelids fluttering as she died, and his heart stuttered. One dog yelped in agony, and he yanked his sword free and turned to help. The other hellhound had caught one dog—Larry, he thought—by the throat and was wrenching the animal back and forth. Mo had one of its rear legs and yanked back, pulling the hellhound off balance, and Curly darted in, burying his jaws in the hellhound's genitals. The hellhound released Larry, howling in agony. Alex took a step forward, but there was no way to strike without risking injury to Curly or Mo.

  "Look out!" Leela yelled.

  He turned as two more hellhounds exploded from the underbrush. Both animals leaped for him, just before smashing into an invisible barrier with bone-jarring force. One hellhound flew up into the air, its clawed feet dangling, its red eyes wide with surprise. The other picked itself up, shook its hyena-like head, and charged again at Alex, who held Witch-Bane before him with both hands. He heard a crack followed by a whimper, and the floating hellhound died, its spine broken. Then the other hellhound slammed into him, driving itself onto the point of his sword. Alex fell back under the beast's weight. The hellhound's eyes glassed over, its breath hot against his face. He shoved the dying beast away and rolled atop it, placing a boot against its chest as he yanked his blade free of its heart.

  The final hellhound, the one fighting the dogs, was back on its feet, bleeding from its savaged genitals, but Larry and Curly were dead. Curly was a smoking pile of dog meat. Mo scrambled toward Alex, whining in pain, smoke rising from his burned hindquarters. Alex stepped in front of the injured dog, once again holding his sword before him. The last hellhound opened its mouth, sending a torrent of flames at Alex and Mo, but Witch-Bane's blade glowed, and the flames dissipated into sparks, vanishing feet away from them.

  The wounded hellhound cocked its head in confusion. A moment later, Leela used magic to pick it up, raising the beast several feet into the air before snapping its spine with telekinesis. The last hellhound's carcass dropped with a thud.

  She joined him and Mo. "Sorry," she said. "I had to move away from you and your sword."

  Alex knelt next to Mo, running his fingers over the dog's side. The hellhound's fire had singed the dog's flank and hindquarters, burning away the fur and leaving burned flesh. Mo whined.

  Alex moved away as Leela knelt beside the dog and ran her hands over his burned flesh, using her magic to heal what she could. Mo stood on trembling legs then darted over to his brothers, whining and nudging their carcasses with his
snout.

  "Thank you," Alex said. They heard the howls of more hellhounds and the yells of boggarts and trolls. They were in a line, beating their way through the trees, no doubt searching for them. The sky was light, the sun peeking over the trees.

  "We'll never get to the trucks," Leela said.

  She was right, he knew. He turned in place, wracking his brain for something, anything that might save their lives. His fingers brushed over the canister. Thank God, the seals were sturdy. The reek of burned flesh, smoke, and blood mingled in the air with the smell of rot. Then he had an idea.

  He grabbed Leela's arm and pulled her along with him. "Hurry."

  The stench of rotting carcasses was a constant assault to their senses, nearly overpowering. They lay side by side, buried beneath the rotting carcass of the brown bear they had seen earlier atop the corpses. Mo, terrified and shivering, lay wedged against Alex's chest. He had one arm around the dog's neck and one hand over its nose to filter out the reek. The dog shivered and whined but remained in place against his chest. The constant droning of the flies might have masked the dog's whines, because none of the hellhounds they had seen go past had approached the abattoir. Something dripped onto Alex's face and neck, and something else bit him in the small of his back, but he ignored both, knowing if they moved, they died.

  It had been at least ten minutes since the last hellhound had gone past, but they still howled in the distance. The rest of the Remnant force was marching past now. He couldn't see them, but he heard them—boggarts, trolls, and dark elves, hundreds, moving southwest through the forest toward where the lightning had struck—the new gateway. The air was dirty with smoke, which meant a forest fire.

  But at least they were still alive.

  His Ranger team was dead. That much was obvious.

  My fault.

  They remained hidden beneath the carcass for another ten minutes after the last of the enemy had marched past. When he couldn't stand the filth, the rot, the flies, and the maggots squirming as they dropped upon him, Alex released Mo, who scurried away, shaking off the filth. Alex and Leela slid out from under the dead bear, slipping down the corpse pile. Nothing else moved. They were alone in the forest.