Chapter 1 - Don’t Think We’re In Kansas Anymore, Sarge

  In Basic, the drills told Cole that he wouldn’t be fighting for his country or his family. He’d be fighting for the man next to him. Currently the man next to him was having his chest cavity hollowed out by an albino, four-armed creature with teeth like jagged glass. Cole figured it was time to stop fighting for him and get the fuck out.

  It wasn’t so much the vicious mauling, or even the blood of the rebel fighter staining the thing’s alabaster skin. Cole had seen men killed all over Syria since President Willshire named the Glefa Security Group a foreign terror organization and declared open season. No, it was the thirty smoking holes in the side of the creature, plus the empty M4 carbine in his hands that he’d just used to put them there. None of which had interrupted its feasting.

  Cole slowly backed away, pulling another magazine from his belly pouch and swapping it for the empty as quietly as he could, as if the full mag of 5.56 hadn’t already given him away. The thing’s single-minded intent on its meal was the only reason he was still alive. His hands trembled trying to seat the new magazine. Hell, they hadn’t done that since his first firefight almost three years ago.

  I guess I haven’t felt like anything was that close to killing me since then.

  He got the mag seated, thumbing the bolt release and keeping his sights on the constellation of dark bullet wounds already marking the ribs and torso. The creature had most of its head thrust underneath the rebel’s rib cage, slurping at soft organs. It jerked its head out, a red mass clenched between its teeth that it started swallowing like some dog snapping at scraps. Cole bumped into an overturned table and skirted around it. Almost to the door. If he could just…

  The door slammed open behind him. “Sergeant Colton, I heard gunfi—wwwhat the hell is that!?”

  At the shout, the white humanoid thing twisted toward them, hissing through red-stained teeth as it lowered itself for a pounce.

  “Out, Gillis! Out!”

  Cole shoved his soldier back through the open door, yanking it shut behind them just as the creature leapt at them. Cole fell on the landing, but Gillis tumbled down the three steps to the dust, shouting. Cole groaned and looked straight up. Why is the sky red? It was a problem for later, when a mutant cannibal or whatever was inside the apartment wasn’t trying to make him its second course. Inside the building, something heavy slammed against the door. The impact cracked the frame and started to bow the cheap aluminum outward.

  Cole braced his feet up against the door, for once happy about the extra fifty pounds of gear he had to haul around the Syrian desert. “Gillis, get Brennan and the Oshkosh! Get on the 240!”

  Slam.

  Gillis took off at a sprint, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Brennan! Brennan! Colton found one of Saddam’s bio-weapon experiments! Get the M-ATV over here!”

  The force of the impact slid Cole back several inches, and his legs were almost locked trying to reach the door. A huge chunk of the frame splintered out, bouncing off his plate carrier. Through the hole, he could hear the snuffling and scraping as the creature tried to get out. Long, clawed fingers reached through the hole, scratching at the door. On the next street over, the sound of the Oshkosh engine roared to life. Cole aimed his rifle at where he hoped the thing’s head was and fired through the door until his magazine was empty again.

  The creature at least reacted, this time, shrieking in, well, probably frustration more than pain. But at least it wasn’t ignoring him.

  Kinda wish it still was, thought Cole as the creature slammed the door again. The impact caused him to fumble his new magazine, which slipped out of his fingers and bounced down the steps behind him.

  “Christ!” he swore. He craned his neck. The Oshkosh was sliding around the corner, with Gillis in the process of climbing up into the turret.

  “Sarge!” shouted Gillis. “Cole, get clear!”

  Cole rolled himself over and pushed upright, fueled by pure adrenaline. He made it to the bottom of the steps before the door frame shattered completely behind him. Carbine clenched in a white-knuckled grip, he sprinted away from the howling horror, toward the looming M-ATV where Gillis was swinging the barrel of the M240 down.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Even with ear-pro, the thunder on the business end of the machine gun was painfully loud, like getting punched right in the eardrums. He dared not look behind him. He knew the thing was still following because Gillis was angling the gun further and further down as Cole got closer. No way he was getting that door open or getting inside before the creature was on him. Instead, Cole threw himself to the ground, rolling under the heavy vehicle that offered barely enough clearance beneath the V-hull to squeeze his body through.

  Thanking any god who would listen that he'd been issued the newer, slimmer MSV armor instead of an older, bulky tactical vest, he slid across the loose dust, kicking up a cloud as he got as far from the creature chasing him as possible. The pale, 4-armed monster was larger than he was. It struggled to reach him beneath the V-hull, thrusting long arms underneath and digging deep furrows in the dust with jagged claws. The M240 turret had done a number to it. Huge, bloody chunks were missing, and one of the creature’s eyes had been completely torn out. But that just seemed to have made it angrier.

  What the hell shrugs off that kind of punishment? Cole thought to himself. He managed to fish out another magazine and seat it. Laying on his side, with barely enough clearance to get his carbine against his shoulder, he put the muzzle nearly within the creature’s reach and squeezed the trigger. In the strobing orange light of the full auto fire, the point-blank 5.56 rounds took out the creature’s other eye, along with nearly severing one of its four arms at the shoulder. Its black blood squirted from the stump, but even blind and dismembered, the thing kept trying to push through with single minded fury. Claws snatched at him, and blood-stained teeth gnashed.

  Cole rolled the rest of the way out from under the M-ATV and jumped up on the running board, pounding his fist on the window. Private Brennan nearly jumped out of his skin at Cole’s appearance. He jerked his thumb to the rear of the vehicle.

  “Back up! Right now!” shouted Cole.

  Brennan threw the vehicle into reverse and hit the gas. The diesel engine roared as the vehicle lurched back, then tilted slightly. The hissing and snarling choked off into a wet gurgle. Cole hopped back down, carefully peering under the vehicle to see the creature pinned beneath the massive wheel, chest and ribs crushed by the weight. and somehow still trying to ruin the rest of Cole’s day. He circled around to the other side for a better angle and then put his muzzle against the base of the thing’s skull and pulled the trigger.

  Finally, the creature went still. Dark blood pulsed from the wound, and before his eyes, the creature started to melt into the sand. A cold rush passed over Cole, like he’d had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. The sheer shock of it dropped him to one knee—then it was gone, replaced once again by the stiflingly hot Syrian night and the crisp rumble of the Oshkosh engine. Only… he looked up at the sky, a deep red-wine sea of twinkling stars that felt even brighter than it had a minute ago. Were they even in Syria, still?

  The doors on the M-ATV opened, and the boots of his squad hit the dust, Gillis and Brennan coming around with rifles ready.

  “Damn, Sarge. That thing’s almost as pale as Lt. Hosco,” said Gillis, which was rich coming from the ginger soldier with a perpetual peeling sunburn.

  “Almost as ugly, too,” said Brennan.

  “Speaking of the Lieutenant,” said Cole, “Where is he? Where’s everyone?” he looked around. That amount of gunfire should have drawn the rest of the squad like the fist of an angry god. But the streets of the oil villa where they were meeting their Syrian counterparts were quiet, and his short-range radio was dead silent. Even the wild dogs, nighttime nuisances that they were, had gone silent. Maybe they could smell whatever the thing melting under their tire was. Dogs were smart enough to avoid a bigger predator, after all.

  “No idea, Sergeant Colton,” said Brennan. “Radio is nothing but static—thought I heard some cross-chatter before the sky went weird, someone calling for Lewis Fields or something.”

  Cole wracked his brain and then shook his head. “Not anyone in our brigade.”

  “Hey Cole, check that out,” said Gillis, nudging the corpse with his boot. The pelvis of the mutant had dissolved enough that a boxy protrusion was sticking out of the sand by the tire. The trio leaned closer. “You lose one of your mags?”

  “Yeah, but that ain’t it,” said Cole. He reached down and plucked what looked like a full magazine of 5.56 ammo that had been inside the creature. Only, standard AR mags didn’t typically glow in the dark and have rounds tipped in sizzling blue.

  “Eww, don’t pick it up! Look at that thing!” said Brennan. “It’s glowing!”

  “I’m telling you, it escaped from Saddam’s secret nuclear weapons lab,” said Gillis. “You’re gonna give us all cancer, Cole.”

  Cole thought for a minute, then tapped the back of the magazine against his leg. What the hell. It couldn’t be any less useful than his green tip rounds had been. He swapped the magazine for the one in his carbine and cycled the bolt, putting the half-spent mag back into his rig. The entire carbine began to glow a soft blue, just like the tips of the ammo.

  “I’m down almost ninety rounds,” said Cole. He kicked the leg of the creature “And I’m not willing to bet that this bastard was a one-off. Radiation poisoning moves a lot slower than these things. Mount up. Let’s link up with the rest of the squad. Then I’m going to get us the hell out of here, hooah?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Gillis, climbing back in to take the turret. Brennan circled back around to the driver’s seat.

  Cole looked up at the vermilion sky again. But where the fuck is ‘here’?