"Stay low and keep your eyes peeled. The report didn't say much about hostile activity, but I always say 'hope for the best, plan for the worst.". Captain Jean Rico told her squad before she jogged out of the chopper's back ramp.
The hot Afghan sun had her sweating the moment she stepped out of the helo, but the whirling wind-storm from the rotors felt nice against her clammy skin. The small, sandstone village sat silently waiting before them, feeling more like a cemetery than a town. The six man squad moved up to the edge of town in an arrowhead formation before slowing to a cautious walk.
"Sig, I want comms with the other platoon, now!" Rico hissed.
"Aye Skipper." Joey "Sig" Henderson answered in typical Marine Corps fashion before whipping out the handset for his radio. "Kilo Three Five, this is Romeo Two Zero." He sent over the airwaves, but received nothing but static in response. Licking his parched, dust-smeared lips, he tried again. "Kilo Three Five, this is Romeo Two Zero, radiocheck, over!" After hearing nothing he sighed and ran up beside Rico. "Nothin' but snow, Capt'n."
"Alright, try again in thirty. For now, get back in formation, stay frosty." She ordered without letting her eyes stray from the rooftops.
At the back of the right branch of the formation, William Simmons glanced uneasily to his right. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him. It felt like when he was little again, chasing away shadows with his eyes as he lay in bed at night. Out several hundred metres passed the last building, atop a gentle sand dune, he thought he saw the sand beating against some invisible wall. He stared straight at it, and felt as though it was staring right back, like eyes coming out of the very sand. Looking ahead again, he saw the rest of the squad had moved forward and were standing at the edge of what looked to be a town square.
Jogging forward to catch up with them, the sight that greeted him was worse than anything he have imagined. Terrence Morton, the squad's explosives and engineering specialist, had a similar reaction. The town square, unlike its name, was actually in the shape of a circle, with a matching fountain as its centrepiece. Forming a ring around the fountain was a tattered and broken line of rubble and debris, interspersed with three humvees, one at the 12, 4 and 8 o'clock positions. Several parts of the sand were stained a dark brown, similar stains could be seen on the fountain and humvees, the crimson red not diminished by the sand like the stains on the ground. Hundreds of spent rounds littered the clearing, coupled with half a dozen craters and almost two dozen abandoned weapons scattered here and there.
"A last stand." Will muttered, coming to stand beside Terrence. "What do you think, T?"
"I dunno man... it doesn't make sense. What could make an entire infantry company retreat to such a desperate, futile last act of defiance?" T shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense..." He repeated under his breath.
"Alright, listen up team. Two man teams. Will, T, you two check out the centrepiece. Henderson, you're with me. We'll flank left. Rilo, Demarque, you two move right. Move carefully, watch each others backs and watch those corners. Move."
Moving as ordered, with the conduct and efficiency of an elite fighting unit, the squad cleared the entire area. It was nerve-wracking and gruesome work. With the twin rotors of the helicopter powered down, a deathly silence had descended upon the village. There was not a living thing to be seen. No crows drawn by the scent of blood, no rats scurrying in the shadows, not even the darting shadows of the many cats that normally populate these villages.
"They were prepared." Will muttered, studying the ruined defences. "The enemy advanced from all sides, and closed in fast." Following the path of the bullet holes, he turned as saw the shredded side of a humvee. "They breached the perimeter... but the marines couldn't close the gap in time." He stared at the distant sun for a long while. "They were overrun."
"What the hell... what could have done this?" Terrence was leaning over a second humvee, examining a damaged door on the inside of the barricade. Will joined him and felt his stomach clench. The door had a gaping hole burnt into it, the edges of which looked like they had been eaten away by some corrosive substance. "Could haji's do this?" T asked, meeting Will's gaze with a scared look in his eyes.
"Na... whatever did this, they weren't hajis."
"What?" T asked, pondering over his choice of words.
From atop a two storey roof, a lone Predator watched, studying its prey with the cool patience of an elite hunter. The six humans converged behind the failed defences of the first humans, their voices filtering through Scor's mask and translating.
"If this was their last stand... then where the hell are the bodies?" A young human asked. Scor could smell his fear even from here. He was clearly a youngblood of their race, as yet unproven in battle. On the others, the smell of blood was strong, but it was human blood, spilt out of anger and greed. The humans are a young species, and bare no concept of the Long Hunt. Only a few make worthy opponents, the rest are simply prey.
Scor refocused on his prey and selected a particular phrase that seemed to be commonly used by the humans. "What the hell." The rough, squeaky voice hurt his ears, angering him. "What the hell." The phrase was repeated, a little less rough each time, again and again until he could mimic it sufficiently.
Yearning filled Scor. He wanted desperately to fill his desire to engage in a proper hunt, and put these humans to the test. However, the needs of the Long Hunt came first, and the humans must be prevented from capturing a serpent. They were out there, Scor knew it... hiding was their greatest ability. A more worthy opponent had never been found by his race. These serpents, they knew no fear, they did not care about pain, they were swift, and more cunning than they seem. The ability to adapt, to any environment, to any situation to any... host. Scor felt his chest and growled angrily as he remembered the dishonour of having a serpent pulled from his chest. The scorn still stung painfully clear, but he would redeem himself now. His elders were watching. He would not fail.
"Did you hear that?" Demarque asked nervously, spinning around.
"Hear what, kid?" T asked.
"Don't get jumpy kid, that's when the shit hits the fan. If you see a haji, just remember one thing – breath, and squeeze!" Rilo said, slapping a big, flat hand on Demarque's back.
Will remained silent throughout this, scanning the buildings slowly, a great sense of distrust feeling the bottom of his gut.
"What's the matter, Will? Something got you spooked?"Rilo grinned, teasing his silent counterpart.
"Shut it, Rilo." The Captain ordered. "If something has got Will spooked, then this is no laughing matter."
Before anyone could respond, the unmistakable chatter of gunfire sounded back from the western edge of the village. Everyone exchanged glances... they all knew the chopper was back there.
"Back to the chopper, move!" Rico ordered, motioning with her hand the direction they needed to run.
All six of them sprint through the village, weapons brought to bear. One thought flew through all their minds. This was an ambush, the Taliban had set them up, drawn them in close like flies into a web. Now the trap was sprung. If the chopper was destroyed, they were really in the poo. This unnamed town, designated Limor Victor 426, was ten miles from the nearest military base – there was no way they could outrun the enemy for that long.
Taking the final corner, the sight that greeted them brought them all to a dead stop. Some creature was ripping the pilot limb from limb like a dog playing with a rag doll. It was huge, even as it was bunched up over his body. A slick black exoskeleton covered its body, with a five foot tail swishing behind it, the large barb at the end glinting threateningly in the sunlight. That's all they managed to see before the creature leapt through the cockpit, drawn inside by the gunfire of the co-pilot. A short burst of gunshots echoed from within, then a heart-wrenching scream and a savage hissing sound. The scream didn't stop, rather it kept going, long and painful.
Just as the onlookers thought it would never end, a loud whoosh was heard, followed by a flash of blue light. A projectile flew from atop the antenna of a building, shiny blue against the matching sky. Then it struck the fuel tank of the chopper, causing it to explode in a beautiful, blooming flower of destruction.
Rilo and Will pivoted toward the source of the projectile as the others hit the deck, bringing their weapons to bare. Both saw a pair of flashing yellow eyes, and then nothing but a heat wave being carried off into the distance by the wind.
"Fuck!" Demarque swore as he got to his feet, before beginning to walk in angry circles, wringing his hands in frustration. "What the fuck do we do now!"
"I have a better question." Terrence muttered. "What the fuck was that thing?"
"And what the fuck destroyed the chopper? How could the haji's get their hands on weapons that advanced?"
As the marines argued, Rilo kept his back to them, scanning the sand dunes for any sign of danger. Meanwhile, Will just kept staring at the space where he had seen those two eyes. Something had been there, watching without being seen. He had felt it, studying him as a though he were a mere guinea pig.
"Let's bug out!" A panicked Demarque exclaimed. "There's only ten miles back to base, we can make that!"
Out of nowhere, a gloved fist flew and struck the rookie on his chin, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Shut the fuck up! All of you! What, did you get some shrapnel in your brain? It'll take us hours to walk back to base. It's already 1600, it'll be dark before we get there which means we'll freeze to death out there in the desert!"
"What then, boss?" His ever-present faith in the Captain unshaken.
"We'll dig in. Set up a defensive harbour in the town square, and hold out 'til morning." She ordered calmly, sounding in control again. The authority in her voice helped ease their minds. "Make it happen Sergeant Rilo."
"Alright ladies." The NCO growled, hefting his M4 rifle. "Let's move, before it gets dark."