by Pj Belanger
the slippers wouldn’t give them away but they couldn’t do without them.
Every one helped dress Ben, who moaned as each piece of clothing was fitted to him. Markus quickly found his own uniform and dressed. Without any body hair the clothing felt itchy. He was beginning to sweat as his body fever was filtering into his muscles. The soldier in him shook it off. He had to get these people to the beach!
He got everyone into the lab. “Complete silence!” Markus warned them as he approached the outside door. “The Bothians have sensitive hearing.” He led them out the lab door after checking that the courtyard was empty. With Mort and Ned holding up Ben between them, they skirted along their building.
Markus once again changed to dark skin. He then took on his cat eyes and grew long claws on his hands. Fear now showed in every one of the scientists’ face as they watched him change. The Curthian had seen it before - frightened of someone who was different - wondering who was worse, the dogs or this changing demon. Yet when he waved them on, the group followed silently.
To his dismay, the two guards came strolling around the side of the sleeping barracks. The Major didn’t hesitate; he caught them from behind and with his combat training he killed them within seconds, ripping out their throats before they could yell. He heard Shana gasp, while the others just stood their gapping. They were not soldiers but researchers, war had just touched them and their minds were grappling with its brutality.
“Can you use these?” he tried to hand Cofflin and Lars the guards’ two weapons. They both shook their heads no. It was Shana who grabbed one.
“I can,” she told him. Well at least he had one armed person. He strapped one of the guard’s long gun around his own shoulder. He led them on; he hadn’t time to check to see if anything else the guards had was useable. They could be missed at any time. He had everything they needed to escape. Time was of the essence.
“Come on,” we have to get below that tower. He pointed to the guards’ high post. “The gate leading out is there.” Mort and Ned had to drag the now unconscious Ben between them. He snaked them around the building, holding the scientists back at the nearest covered area from the guard tower. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Leaving his florescent booties behind, he cautiously ran across the small opened space to the bottom of the tower. Wide wooden stairs started up the structure to his left. Markus dared not use the stairs, the guards would hear him coming. He concentrated on his feet, claws appeared. He climbed, silently grabbing onto the wooden support beams. Just below the platform through his translator he heard the grumbling of bored tower guards.
“This ain’t right,” one of the guards complained, “we were suppose to be relieved almost an hour ago. Damn Jola, he’s probably whoring with that new recruit. Wait ‘til I get my paws on him.”
Shit! Markus thought, the guard is changing soon! Without hesitating he jumped onto the platform. The two surprised guards went to grab their weapons but he was too quick as he knocked both their weapons away and swiftly stabbed both the guards with his long talons right in the middle of their chests. He’d studied the Bothians physiology before the mission, their hearts were right the middle between their two lungs. He threw the 2 doggish guards over the side of the platform, both were dead before they hit the ground.
He looked around. First, using his sharp claws, he destroyed every piece of equipment in the tower including their radar tracking devices and their bright searchlights. He had no doubt, however, that alarms were now loudly going off in their island command center. Hopefully, it being the middle of the night, the Bothians would be slow in responding.
Markus didn’t wait around but quickly descended. He found his escapees all huddled together, wide eyed and scared. Their gazes went from the dead guards then back to him. They looked aghast at this murdering dark-skinned, clawed person. When he waved for the scientists to follow him, they just stood rooted to their spots, in uncomprehending disbelief. He’d seen it before, horror shock. Despite their hatred of the Bothians, death was still death.
He went over to Shana and shook her being careful with his claws, “Help me get them out of here! Do you all want to die?” he yelled at them. Her large eyes seemed to stare blankly at his face. The researchers seemed frozen in time.
It was Ben, hanging between Mort and Ned moaning loudly, that got them moving. “Help him, get us out of this hell hole,” the old scientist whimpered. It did the trick, they followed Markus silently to the gate. It had a huge padlock on the doorframe. Markus went over to the dead guards, searching, he found a set of keys. Sure enough, one of the keys opened the lock. He pushed all seven researchers through the opening.
The jungle immediately enveloped them. A small dirt driveway was the only sign of civilization. On either side were wide large banyan trees and thick hanging vines. The noise of the night insects was loud and forewarning. They were immediately attacked with stinging mosquitos.
“Keep moving,” Markus headed out down the road. If he was right, safety lay to the north where they would find that beach. That meant heading off the path and into the jungle proper soon. It did not help that a loud siren sounded as they headed between two humongous banyan trees. Their escape had been discovered!
Looking at the evening sky he calculated that the beach lay to their left. If his observations from the helicopter were right, he thought it was about two miles. He prayed Ben could make it. He also prayed that their captors could not see them through the thick jungle overhangs above as they began to hear search helicopters. Strong spotlights could be seen scanning the jungle. The Bothians seemed to be concentrating on east of the compound where the road went to their docks. Good, he thought, the canines think we are going to try and escape by the wharfs.
He also felt extremely sick as the fever now racked his body, but by using his intensive mental combat training he ignored it, pushing it to the back of his brain. As long as his mind didn’t start playing games with him, he’d be all right. The soldier had been through worse, although right now he couldn’t think of any similar situation. Once more the Curthian thought about why he was doing this!
Mort and Ned both fell together, dropping Ben unceremoniously to the ground. They had gone over a mile, but now they were exhausted. Markus’ mind reeled; they’d never make it. His sharp ears picked up a tracking team not more than a quarter of a mile away. He stopped to take stock of his surroundings. Grabbing Shana, he shouted, “Listen carefully, take this flashlight. Get them to the beach about half a mile ahead. Head them into the water, at least up to your waist. Then use the flashlight - two short flashes, then one ten second flash. Repeat until they come get you. Have you got it?”
“What! We are not leaving you!” her voice cracked with fear.
He didn’t have time to argue with her. “I’ll be along shortly with Ben. Go! It’s our only chance. NOW!” He shoved her down the escape route. Mort also gave him a hard time but fear overtook the small researcher. The group fled towards the beach, leaving Ben behind with Markus.
As he watched them hurry away he took the sick scientist and placed him behind a banyan. “I’ll be right back,” he told Ben.
“Please, just leave me,” the biochemist said, holding tight onto Markus’ arm. “Leave me,” he barely got the words out.
“I’m not leaving either one of us to these dogs. Just stay quiet.” Then he made it back to where they had been escaping to the beach. Using a burst of energy he shrunk his body into the shape of a large panther. Animal shapes did not come easy to him. It hurt like hell given how the sickness was beginning to really affect him. He grew his claws even longer; his mouth became full of sharp fangs.
Five Bothians came snorting down the trail. Their large snouts were hugging the ground, smelling out the escapees’ path. They weren’t being careful. Why would they when their prey consisted of eight weak scientists? Capture would be easy. Come on you bastards, he geared himself up, letting his rage overtake his fear, his sickness. Come on!
When they were so close he could easily smell their stink, he pounced. The first two he killed easily. Another he knocked unconscious with his large paw then crushed his skull. The remaining two shot at him but he was ready, jumping up into a tree, he came at them from behind. They began shooting indiscriminately as they had lost sight of him. Markus ripped one of the Bothian’s furry back and legs until the soldier fell to the ground unconscious. He at first tried to disarm the last pursuer, half taking one of canine’s arms off. Still the Bothian shot at him with a second weapon in another of his four arms. The stun gun grazed Markus. He winced, feeling a wound on his back hind but he jumped the dog and ripped his neck out.
He was winded and covered in green blood. The Curthian forced himself to go back to his human form, staggering to Ben’s hiding place. Markus’ fever was now intense. He was sweating profusely. The soldier took a moment to get ahold of himself. At the banyan tree, Ben had blacked out. The man was dead weight. He would have to carry him.
He let his body shrink to become shorter and bulkier. It took everything he had, but he needed massive muscles if he was going to carry the scientist. Taking a deep breath, he lifted Ben onto his shoulder. Slowly he started down to where he
