THE SHOEBOX PURSUIT
MONSTERS AND MACHINES
By
Benjamin Maxwell
Copyright © B.Maxwell
INTRODUCTION
From fairy tales set in magical lands to twisted fables preaching how to be a better man, all stories have a beginning. All stories, that is, with the exception of this one. It’s not that I wish to confuse you, or add unnecessary mystery where there is already plenty - it is simply because it is true. Perhaps over time and investment of your own thoughts you will come to this conclusion for yourself. Be aware, these adventures are littered with tragic kingdoms, strange beings, heartbreak, and far too often - death. But that is the way it must be. So for now, let’s bring you up to speed…
The year is 1943, it is almost spring, and the world is at war. A dark and evil ideal has spread across the globe, and right now it is anyone’s game. If you need to know more about the basics I would suggest reading a history book. You’ll probably find them discarded on an old and dusty shelf somewhere, forgotten and obsolete. However, I can personally guarantee you that a few of the finer details, a few perilous secrets and unusual adventures may be missing from those books. Information in fact, that you are only going to discover through this particular series of short tales.
Deep in German territory, on a war-torn wasteland that no man should have to venture upon, a small squadron of soldiers push forward, selflessly battling their way from mission to mission, ever striving onward to their final goal - a goal that for the time being is inconsequential. But they were still a very long way off, and their journey was getting more bizarre and treacherous for them at every turn.
They were lead by the heroic Captain Charlie Crumble. Tall, strong and dashing. Smart, confident and brave. He was everything a leader needed to be, and everything the enemy would despise. He had more victories under his belt than the rest of the men put together, and he showed no sign of slowing down yet. He was brilliant, courageous and he oozed English charm.
Amongst his squad, which now unfortunately consisted of no more than thirteen men, were his three best, his go-to-guys, his friends. First was Specks - a small geeky Englishman, who was as intelligent as Charlie was brave, and spent more time pushing his glasses back up his nose than shooting a gun. It was a strange place for such a man to be, but Charlie had used this soldier’s intellect to save their skins more times than he cared to remember. Then there was Yankee and Doodle - brothers, American, a couple of stray soldiers Charlie had picked up along route. They were over the top - too loud and too brash, yet equally as loyal and loveable. Gung-ho chaps whose fingers were always on the trigger, would willingly run into any gunfight, and who would both take a bullet for Charlie without hesitation.
Indeed, with the brains of Specks, the brawn of Yankee and Doodle, and the brilliance of Charlie, they were a force to be reckoned with. And thanks to their combined skills they had made it a great, yet deadly distance behind enemy lines. However, this particular group was on a very different pursuit than they had expected, and they were swiftly discovering there were some very surprising things to be found along the way…
CHAPTER ONE
The backdrop was textbook. A full moon breaking through a clouded sky. High and jagged mountains surrounding the area. Whilst right in the centre of it all a brutal battle played out.
On one side were Charlie and the boys, suited and booted - guns in hands, helmets on heads, valiantly fighting through yet another one of their dangerous missions. And on the other side was the enemy - the Nazis. However, these were no ordinary Nazis. Yes, they had the correct uniform. And yes, they had the correct weapons. But there was something very wrong here. Their finger nails were long and claw-like. Their skin was covered in thick, black matted hair. Their faces were long drawn-out snouts, with sharp teeth jutting out of a stretched grin. They had red eyes and dog-like ears. And their stance was awkward, hunched, almost animal-like. They were werewolves.
The clash was fierce. Noise and pandemonium filled the air. The British stayed low in an old deserted trench, offering them the bare minimum of safety, as they fired bullet after bullet in the direction of the enemy - their futile attempts doing little more than keeping them at bay. The Nazi-wolves stayed hidden in the tree line, running through the darkness from left to right, some on all fours, some on their hind legs, shooting straight back at them.
Charlie appeared, aimed his pistol and shot three precise bullets, hitting one of the Nazi-wolves in the shins, causing the beast to yelp, before it staggered back into the darkness. He pulled himself down into the safety of the trench, ducking just in time as a barrage of bullets whizzed by overhead.
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ he said, infuriated, reloading the chamber on his pistol. He grabbed Specks by the scruff of his uniform and dragged him in close. ‘Why are they not going down?’ he asked aggressively.
‘Well, Captain,’ began Specks in his usual nasal voice. ‘If they really are werewolves…’
‘Which they are,’ interrupted Yankee with his thick southern American accent, shooting his beloved Thompson sub-machine gun over the top of the trench.
‘And they really do possess superhuman strength…’ continued Specks.
‘Which they do,’ added Doodle in much the same voice as his brother, a Colt Revolver pistol in each hand, firing haphazardly into the tree line.
‘Shut it, and keep firing,’ ordered Charlie to the boys.
‘Yes, sir,’ they replied in unison.
‘Then, according to legend,’ said Specks, ‘which must now be considered fact as they are indeed real, only silver bullets will put them down.’ He pushed his glasses back up his nose with a shaky hand and smiled awkwardly at Charlie.
‘I don’t buy that,’ said the Captain, after a moments contemplation. He holstered his weapon. ‘You boys up for a little experiment?’
‘Hell’s yeah,’ yelled Yankee and Doodle together. They jumped down from their shooting positions and head-butted each other in celebration, their helmets clanging noisily.
‘Specks?’ pushed Charlie, eager for an answer.
‘Yes, Captain,’ he stammered nervously in reply. ‘Anything to progress science.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ declared Charlie, slapping a powerful hand on the geek’s back. ‘Boys, you’re with me. Let’s go.’
Without delay Charlie broke into a sprint, dashing his way through the trench, followed closely by the three men, and leaving the remaining soldiers to their gunfight with the Nazi-wolves. The group hurriedly left the battle area and rushed around to the very edge of the tree line, immediately taking cover behind a particularly sizeable fallen tree. Charlie peered over the top and rapidly assessed the situation, his keen eyes well rehearsed in the process. Sure enough there was a Nazi-wolf close by, pre-occupied with shooting at the English across the way, but straying ever closer, moving further and further from its pack - opportunity.
‘Right. We’ve got ourselves a little test subject,’ said Charlie, ducking back down behind the protection of the trunk. ‘Yankee, Doodle, you’re my muscle when things get hairy. Pardon the pun. And we’re going to run the “Jerry Salute”, like we did in Poland.’
Yankee and Doodle sniggered to themselves like a couple of excited school boys being asked by their teacher to purposefully misbehave, without the punishment of detention on the cards - they knew exactly what to do.
‘And what do you need me to do?’ asked Specks, anxiously, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
‘I thought that much would be obvious,’ replied Charlie, a suspicious grin spreading across his fac
e. ‘You’re my bait!’
A few argumentative moments later Specks sheepishly made his way through the trees, quivering as he went. His head was down, sweat dripped from his brow onto his glasses, looking absolutely tiny amongst the looming branches overhead.
‘Statistically speaking,’ he muttered quietly to himself, taking his glasses off and wiping the sweat from them, ‘it’s a 60/40 chance of the rat ever actually reaching the cheese in the centre of the maze.’ One could only assume the statement was a feeble attempt at self-reassurance and comfort.
Behind him Yankee and Doodle silently darted from tree to tree, keeping themselves hidden from plain sight, moving more like trained ninjas than overworked army soldiers. But where was Charlie?
‘I am the cheese,’ stammered Specks, putting his glasses back on with a shaky hand and sliding them up his nose. ‘And that,’ he studied the Nazi-wolf, which was now in dangerously close proximity, ‘is one incredibly large test rat!’
The Nazi-wolf stopped shooting. It sniffed the air with its big grotesque nostrils - it had caught the scent of something. It twisted its altered head round and immediately clamped eyes on the small soldier walking towards him. The beast holstered its gun, dropped down on all fours and crept forward. With each step the thing took, its uniform bulged at the seams, its mutated form significantly larger than its predecessor. After a few long stretched steps it was already upon the man. Even with its stance in such a way, it was still taller than the geek. It sniffed him over and over, nudging him with its lengthy deformed snout. It grunted, before standing back on its hind legs and stretching to its full height. Specks gulped with trepidation. These things were far bigger up close!
It grabbed Specks by the arms and lifted him up like he weighed nothing. A slimy thick tongue came out of its jaws and licked the man all over. Specks squealed in horror. The beast aggressively barked back at him, phlegm and who knows what else projecting from its gullet and landing on the man’s face. Specks couldn’t help but be repulsed.
‘Eww…’ he garbled, gagging on the smell.
‘NOW!’ came Charlie’s prevailing voice from out of sight.
Yankee and Doodle burst from their hiding places, guns ready, and raced to Speck’s aid. They skidded to a stop, either side of the beast. Without falter they placed their pistols directly by its huge ears and fired into the air. Such a noise so close to the beasts enhanced senses was way too much to bear. The creature instantly dropped Specks, staggering backwards with its hands, or paws, covering its ears in total agony. It was confused, disorientated, enraged - and it was time.
Charlie jumped down from the treetop, landing smoothly in front of the ordeal.
‘Hold him,’ he ordered to the boys.
Yankee and Doodle each seized one of the beast’s arms, kicking out its legs and sending it to its knees. It thrashed about, dragging the brothers from side to side like play-things. There was no time to waste - they couldn’t hold on for long. Charlie withdrew the pistol from the beast’s holster. He yanked open its mouth and wedged the pistol in - locking its jaws open. He snatched a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin out with his teeth and without wavering shoved it right down the beast’s throat.
‘Run,’ he yelled, as he pulled his arm out.
Yankee and Doodle let go of the beast’s arms and backed away, instantly breaking into a life saving run. Charlie grabbed Specks and hauled him through the trees as fast as he could, leaving the Nazi-wolf behind. It clambered back to its feet, clutching at its throat, coughing and heaving, desperate to regurgitate the grenade. It clenched its jaws shut, shattering the pistol. Charlie and the boys frantically leapt for cover behind a patch of fallen trees - and just in the nick of time. The grenade exploded.
Pieces of what was once Nazi-wolf flew out everywhere - bits of bloody uniform and fleshy lumps splattered throughout the trees, hitting Specks in the face, and messing up his glasses. Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.
‘I’d like to see its superhuman abilities recover from that!’ he remarked.
He peered through the trees, his face beaming with glee. The Nazi-wolf was no more. But his face immediately dropped, and his merriment evaporated. It would appear their actions had caught the attention of the rest of the pack. Sure enough, a group of Nazi-wolves were approaching fast.
‘Experiment over,’ said Charlie. ‘We need to move now.’
Charlie went to run. But then, as unlikely as it may seem, something even more outlandish than an encounter with Nazi-wolves took place. All of a sudden the dark sky lit up in a dazzling white, almost heavenly light, grabbing everybody’s attention - heroes and bad guys alike. Everyone stopped to watch, assuming the other side had unleashed a secret weapon of mass destruction. It happened very quickly. A loud thunderous rumble sounded, causing the very ground to shake beneath their feet. A crack of lightning violently bolted across the sky, so disturbing in its movement that it looked as if the very fabrics of reality were about to split open. And then suddenly, as if from nowhere, a strange silver metallic object burst from the light, careering through the sky at an incredible velocity - it was almost a blur. It was heading straight towards the ground. BOOM! It hit with immeasurable force, throwing earth and trees and soldiers and monsters into the air, before exploding to smithereens and creating an enormous shock wave, blasting everyone and everything straight back down to the ground, flattening the area.
He was here.
The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 1 - Monsters and Machines Page 1
