Personnel- Dossier Feldgrau

by Tyler Hanson

  The tide’s changing. Time to finish this.

  Seizing the opportunity, Catalina shrugged Sofía off her back onto the grass before dropping the pistols and retrieving two canisters from a bandolier around her torso. She squeezed the handles on the side of each one and released their safety pins. One after another, she arced the canisters into the incoming wave of monsters. A few seconds passed before she heard two successive whumps, following by the rapid spread of flames.

  It’s a shame to damage the forest, but sometimes tough choices have to be made.

  The thermite in her grenades spread at a frightening pace, engulfing the spider creatures and the surrounding trees. Green plants turned brown and dissolved into ash so quickly that only Catalina’s Gaze could see the progression. She retrieved a third canister and one of her Glock pistols, moving toward the flames.

  The babies were burning and dying to Catalina’s satisfaction. Still, she saw a few trying to escape from one side of the fire; she cut them down with her Glock before tossing her third canister into the middle of the inferno, spreading the destruction. As she turned away, one of the babies hopped from the flames in front of her, still on fire, and bit into her arm.

  Catalina staggered back. The creature hadn’t penetrated her armor, but it had tremendous bite force. If it didn’t let go soon, she’d have a shattered humerus and a useless right arm. She aimed her Glock at the creature and pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. Reloading would take too long; she could already feel her arm bruising from the pressure.

  She released the pistol and withdrew a thick metal rod from her belt. It was a dark, silver, Maglite-sized device whose only notable features were an opening on one end and a small lever on the side.

  Often used to euthanize farm animals, the captive bolt device was just as helpful in combat. She placed the tip of the device on the top-center of the creature’s head, which was not yet in flames. When she squeezed the lever on the side, a long metal bolt drove into the center of the monster, releasing a metallic hiss. Thick, cottony material spurted from the new hole; the creature went limp, releasing Catalina’s arm.

  She stepped back to ensure no one else escaped her flames. Not a thing stirred except the crackling of burning, supernatural fauna.

  Satisfied, she reset her captive bolt device and returned it to its holster. She reloaded her Glocks with standard, more portable magazines before returning them to their proper locations on her person. Fiddling with one hand for a weapon strapped to her back, Catalina gestured to Sofía with the other.

  Go home. Please understand me. Go home.

  Sofía seemed to pick up on Catalina’s silent signals. Her eyes lit up, and she pointed in the direction of the path that left the forest. Catalina nodded, pulling a rifle from beneath her cloak. The girl turned to leave, but then looked back. After a moment, she ran to Catalina and hugged her waist. Gripping the new rifle by the handle, Catalina leaned down with her free hand to hug her back, though only for a few seconds.

  “Gracias,” Sofía whispered into Catalina’s ear.

  Then she was gone, rushing down the forest pathway back toward her home.

  Catalina offered her first genuine smile in a while as she examined the weapon in her hands. The Russian revolving shotgun’s wooden frame was punctuated by a large silver ammunition cylinder, not unlike the cylinders found in revolver pistols. She swung open the cylinder and verified she’d preloaded slug rounds. They would ensure maximum damage if they hit her target.

  When they hit her target. She wouldn’t miss again.

  With Sofía safe and her arsenal ready, Catalina forged down the path left behind by the fleeing monster. The raging fire roared at her back, but its glow and its crackling petered out as she moved further into the forest. She was relieved to see there was no more movement in the trees above. Darkness enveloped her, and her cloak blended into the environment.

  She was nothing but a floating silhouette.

  Catalina traveled a quarter of a kilometer without incident before the soft leaves, once fluttering in the breeze, became sticky and heavy. Leaning forward, she reached out and touched one of the flat green plants. When she pulled away, some of the cotton-like substance followed her in strands. She rubbed it on the grass below, leveled her shotgun, and stepped through a cluster of branches into a new clearing.

  As Catalina passed through the barrier, it ripped, the leaves pulling apart like Velcro. The shadows around her darkened, and the temperature noticeably dropped. She began to adjust her cloak, but she stopped when she registered what was around her.

  Surrounding the clearing was a white dome, about a hundred meters in diameter, comprised of the same white substance that spilled from the Man when Catalina removed its arm. The cottony film spread from the ground to the tree trunks, stretching between trees and climbing along branches. A canopy stitched together the treetops, forming a “ceiling.”

  Catalina looked closer at the walls of the dome and squinted at the shapes suspended there. Her cat-like eyes widened.

  She’d found the missing people.

  Cocooned throughout the dome, some hung a meter or two from the ground, while others dotted the top of the canopy. Altogether, she identified about twenty people, an estimated five adults and fifteen children. Most were still, yet others twitched, and one of the girls on the far wall seemed to be crying. Around each of them squirmed white shapes that Catalina couldn’t quite identify.

  To the left of where Catalina entered the dome, she noticed a heavyset man hanging. He sported a short-sleeved collared shirt and a bushy mustache.

  That’s why the Medellin Cartel is here. They lost some of their people to this creature, too.

  The man stirred and opened his eyes. As soon as he saw Catalina standing nearby, he panicked, struggling against his cocoon. She turned to face him.

  “Mátame,” he whispered. “Kill me.”

  She shook her head, shifted her shotgun to one hand, and produced a knife, gesturing the blade in the direction of his cocoon.

  He shook his head. “No . . . I’m not—“

  Before he could say more, he wheezed. The short disruption grew into a sickening hack, as if something blocked his throat. With a final wet, guttural noise, he leaned forward and vomited a white orb the size of a golf ball. Before it could fall from his tongue, the orb shook and sprouted eight tiny arm-legs, just like its larger counterparts earlier in the forest.

  The man whimpered as the tiny creature crawled around to the left side of face, which Catalina couldn’t see. He turned his head in protest—it was stripped of its flesh and muscle, down to the bone. The little monster opened its vertical mouth and wrestled free a bite-sized chunk of flesh as the man continued to struggle. It carried its prize behind the man and onto the cottony canvas behind him. Its gait almost triumphant, it joined at least a hundred others like it.

  “I’m not . . . alive . . . anymore,” the man continued, his voice weaker now. “Everything inside me . . . it’s all gone. Now . . . all that keeps me healthy . . . keeps me awake . . . it’s only because of the nest.” He coughed again. She could see the weariness in his tortured eyes. “It’s going to . . . keep me alive . . . until they . . . Until they take all of me . . . all of us.”

  His eyes traced the dome, finding the other people. Hacking coughs surrounded them, resounding mostly in the higher octaves of children, many of them likely Sofía’s age or younger. They all vomited out the baby creatures at intervals, a small piece of their body taken away each time.

  “We can’t . . . we can’t stay like this,” the man wheezed. “It’s worse . . . than death. Please . . . end it.” A few small children cocooned nearby nodded in fervent agreement.

  Catalina’s head spun. Yes, she had already assumed these people were dead and eaten, but this was much more complicated. Could the doctors in town, or even further in the large cities, keep them supported without their major organs?

  As she considered the option, a rapid rustle came from over
head. She looked up—the Man, the creature she hunted, crawled along the canopy of the dome with its seven arms and two angular legs. It didn’t seem to notice her, its attention focused on the stomach of a young girl. Blood dripped onto the grass below, the red droplets nearly falling onto Catalina.

  Catalina lifted her shotgun and fired, wasting no time to engage the monster. A deep, thunderous roll filled the nest, and the slug struck its target while it fed. The large bullet smashed into the Man’s lower back, leaving a gaping wound leaking white fluid. The creature screamed, sending static careening through Catalina’s mind, and released the canopy. It slapped into the ground, sprawled on its back.

  She released the trigger of the shotgun and the cylinder rotated, preparing the next round. In her brief moment of preparation, the Man reached its feet, dripping cottony fluid onto the grass around it. Its blank face was covered in the young girl’s blood. Raising its seven arms, it charged toward Catalina.

  She aimed and fired once more, but the creature was prepared. Her pupils twitched, but she watched helplessly as the Man shifted with ease to dodge the bullet. Aware of the imminent impact, Catalina held the rifle out with both hands, creating a makeshift shield.

  Catalina’s Gaze registered the Man’s presence in front of her, a sharp crack and sudden vibration blurring her vision. The wind rushed in her ears, and she struggled to focus.

  Before her sight cleared, agony filled her body. With the telltale sensation of arrested motion, she smashed into an obstacle before striking the forest floor, landing on her face and stomach.

  Pushing through her pain, Catalina assessed her predicament. The creature had thrown her from its nest, and the entrance to the dome now lay twenty meters ahead of her. A rough indentation had formed in the tree behind her, several meters in the air, where her body had struck it. She could see the pieces of her shotgun scattered throughout the clearing.

  This is how much damage it can do with one swipe. There’s no way I’ll survive more hits like that.

  Catalina coughed, wincing. The padding of the armor and cloak had protected her from most of the impact with the tree, but she could feel the pang of a broken rib when she breathed.

  Static filled her head, and she looked up in time to see the Man emerging from the dome. He sprinted toward her without hesitation, lurching through the trees with its unnatural, crooked gait.

  She poised, waiting for it. It appeared beside her, slashing out with four of its hands, extending those pointed fingers toward her face. Catalina tumbled beneath its attack with the grace of a gymnast, retrieving her Grizzly pistol from her thigh holster mid-roll. As she halted into a crouch, she pivoted and took aim with both arms.

  The black handgun housed .50 caliber rounds, packing a serious punch. Catalina graciously shared those punches now, pulling the trigger in quick succession while panning a diagonal line across the Man’s body. Three bullets emerged with thunderous roars, one striking the creature’s bottom left hip, another hitting it in the center of its chest, and the final round piercing the top right shoulder, near the neck. Each strike produced a baseball-sized hole through its body, and it screamed in response.

  The recoil numbed Catalina’s fingers, compounding the pain in her already sore wrists. She wasn’t often interested in using the Grizzly for this exact reason, but it was a fantastic resource when she was in need of immediate stopping power. That fact proved true once more with the Man, seemingly weakened by the trio of holes in its torso. Still, she couldn’t fire it many more times without compromising her combat competence. She holstered the firearm as a backup plan and reached behind her cloak.

  The Man, still reeling from the Grizzly shots, stumbled forward to slash at Catalina, slowing by a noticeable degree. Catalina took advantage of its weakness to withdraw two batons, each tipped with a curved blade running perpendicular to the handle.

  Kamas, the Japanese called them. Shaped to be miniature, hand-held scythes, they were once nothing more than farming tools. The Shogunate era, however, transformed them into makeshift weapons, and several countries throughout Southeast Asia discovered they were perfect for disarming enemies.

  And this enemy had plenty of arms to spare.

  Catalina raised the kamas, one in each hand, resembling a viper’s maw. Poised in her fighting stance, she awaited the monster’s reply.

  It opened its mouth, head vibrating, and Catalina’s head fuzzed.

  “Come to me.”

  “Stay with me.”

  “Kill for me.”

  “Love me.”

  She squinted to maintain focus, and saw a white, angular hand centimeters from her face. Her left cheek burned even as she moved to the side. The creature had drawn her blood.

  Catalina took advantage of the attack, wrapping her two kamas around the offending arm. The sharp underside of one scythe blade pressed against the arm between the shoulder and its spindly elbow, while the other blade pressed in the opposite direction between the elbow and wrist. She pulled with as much force as she could muster, and like a cigar in its cutter, she snipped away the entire left forearm from its roots. Now the Man stood with a stump leaking white fluid from each shoulder, shadowed by the three remaining arms angled out of each side of its back.

  Apparently less phased by the second amputation, though, the Man continued its relentless assault. Catalina rolled and dodged, avoiding its strikes or parrying them with her scythes. Splinters sprayed from tree trunks as the two sparred along the darkened forest trail. After what felt like an eternity, they came to a momentary respite. The creature shuddered as if ill, while Catalina struggled to catch her breath.

  The Man had landed some solid blows on Catalina’s arms and chest, but she had returned the favor with deep, leaking cuts along its body. They were both tired and slowed, but her strength and stamina was dropping more quickly than her opponent’s. Even with the creature riddled with bullet holes and missing two arms, one wrong step or misplaced strike would spell her immediate death.

  Then again, personal risk for the sake of the community was always a respectable compromise. One of the few lessons taught by her father she still honored.

  Catalina moved a few steps back from the Man and sheathed a kama. The creature made another move and she pivoted away, reaching for her hood. Built into the sides of the hood were rubber plugs connected to thin, mechanical strips. She depressed the sides of the hood, flipping the strips’ hinges and sealing her ears.

  With her free hand, Catalina snatched a new grenade from her bandolier. Pulling the pin but keeping the lever depressed, she paused, waiting for the right moment.

  The Man lowered itself into the grass and crawled toward her, more spider-like than before. It reached the edge of her boots in a heartbeat and reared up above her, mouth open, ready to take its first bite. Catalina released the grenade’s lever and tossed it into the air, its path level with the monster’s head. She rolled low—toward the creature. As she passed under its legs, the grenade exploded.

  Catalina’s ears were sealed and her vision obfuscated by the hood and cloak, but the flashbang’s assault still demanded the attention of her senses. Bright light filled her peripheral vision, and the shock of the blast rattled her bones.

  This monster uses some sort of subsonic organ to communicate and manipulate. Hopefully I can fight fire with fire, in this case.

  She turned and surveyed her results. The Man reeled, its mouth closed, its head vibrating in a wild, chaotic pattern.

  “Love . . . Kill . . . Me . . . With . . . Kill . . .”

  It pressed its six attached arms against its head to create a shield. As Catalina had hoped, its back remained turned to her.

  Now’s the best chance.

  Catalina unholstered the Grizzly with her available hand and leapt onto the creature’s back. The moment she made contact, it jerked away as if by reflex, but she buried the scythe blade still gripped in her other hand into its shoulder blade. She rode the bucking bronco, fighting to maintain her footing
.

  As she jolted back and forth, she pointed the Grizzly pistol at the back of the Man’s head. In the last moment before pulling the trigger, she noticed the shadow of six arms descending upon her. She tried to fire off a killing shot before the incoming assault struck, but the fingers clutching for her body shifted her aim. The .50 caliber bullet missed the creature’s head by mere centimeters.

  With that, the monster unceremoniously lifted Catalina into the air and slammed her onto the unforgiving forest floor for a second time. Her breath left her lungs, as if an elephant stepped on her chest. Her head rocked from the sudden shift in motion, and her neck tensed from the whiplash. The sharp sensation in her side worsened; in her excitement, she had almost forgotten about the rib.

  The impact had loosened her grasp on the Grizzly. It was on the ground, next to her fingertips. As she strained to grasp it, the shadow of the Man blocked out the moonlight filtering through the trees overhead. After a second or two, her expanded pupils adjusted to the ambient light, revealing the monster’s features once more.

  It was in rough shape, to say the least. It had two armless stumps from the elephant gun and the kamas, three holes along its torso from the Grizzly, a large crater in its back from the shotgun blast, and a kama embedded near the shoulder. Its body was covered in dozens of deep lacerations, and cottony fluid coated its skin. It twitched violently, as if agitated.

  Catalina flashed it a menacing smile.

  The Man’s head buzzed and looked down at Catalina, then at the Grizzly beside her. Its mouth split open as it reached for Catalina, and she was airborne again. Her journey was short but unpleasant; the monster used its arms to pin her by the chest and shoulders to a nearby tree trunk. The shock of the impact left Catalina wheezing, and she spat out a little blood.

  The creature leaned up to her eye level, daring to open its mouth wide, seeming to telegraph its awareness that the Grizzly had been left behind on the grass.

  “FEED THEM.”

  From within the recesses of its head sprung a curved, white spike, resembling the horn of a rhinoceros. The appearance was sudden and alarming, like a sharp blade flicking from the handle of an organic knife. The creature aimed its head toward her stomach.