The Bats of the Afghan

Communication Base 7, East of Chaghcharan, Central Afghanistan, 1:02 am, 2019

Ten years ago, Central Afghanistan would have been the middle of nowhere, but the previously small city of Chaghcharan had expanded greatly over the last few years. War, Jeremy Parces mused at the insomniac's hour, changed things a lot. Where other cities had been levelled in the feud, Chaghcharan had had millions pumped into its economy with the basic intention of turning it into a gigantic military base. Jeremy had memorised his dull surroundings over the past few months because, after making sure the communication between the Chaghcharan radio tower and the American allies was working effectively, there was little else to do.
A sharp scraping sound at his bedroom door interrupted Jeremy's contemplation. His soldier's instinct setting in, he quickly slid out of his bed and, taking a moment to quietly rifle through the unorganised papers and curios on his bedside table drawer, retrieved his Derringer pistol. In the first month of arrival, Jeremy wouldn't have noticed the scratch at his door but over the past week, some weird things were happening. Disappearances, communication interference and that faint purple smoke that no-one seemed able to source.
Breathing heavily and with all the inexplicable occurrences in his mind increasing his nerves with every step, Jeremy quietly whispered "Open."
Mercifully, the door slid open without a sound. Jeremy trusted his eyes and when he looked along the familiar dark and cramped corridor and saw nothing of interest, he decided to return to his bed. As he turned to the door, a flash of deep purple shot past the end of the corridor and a small object rolled out of the darkness. Jeremy let out a relieved breath; the object was an orange and nothing more. A little perplexed, he walked up to the orange, picked it up and realised the gravity of his discovery.
"So this is where all the food's gone to. Some grubby little thief's been sneakin' in." Jeremy thought to himself and sure enough, as he made his way through the corridors and to the kitchen, the pantry door was ajar. As he grabbed the handle of the door, Jeremy felt cold steel on the back of his head, but as he turned around with his hands raised he saw only the familiar pale face of George Bevren. They both sighed as George lowered his gun. The reason for George enlisting into the army had always perplexed Jeremy. He nearly fainted in shock when he first heard gunfire and his asthma makes it difficult for him to leave the campsite into the dusty Afghanistan landscape.
"S-s-sorry Jeremy. I heard s-something and I thought you were one of them that've b-b-been stealing our food." George stuttered as he always did when he was nervous.
"No problem, George. It looks like he's hightailed it anyway." said Jeremy, indicating the open door leading to the deep darkness of outside. Jeremy turned back to the pantry so he could make a note of what food was taken. He opened the door, turned on the light and let out a curse as he saw that the only item of food left was a lonely potato in the middle of the top shelf
"What the hell? That was f-full last night." George whispered sharply.
"There must've been at least twenty of them for them to take that much food at once." Jeremy contemplated, ignoring George's panicked shivering. "George, go out and find them, they can't have gone far, circle the building first. Remember your backpack." George made a nervous squeak of protest but he obediently shuffled to the door, lifted his bag from the rack, and proceeded into the darkness of the night. What could he do? Jeremy was his superior. George made his way around the building, guided by the torch from his bag
"The humans have left the safety of their bed chambers."
and thankfully found nothing; he was too nervous and tired to deal with trespassers professionally. He was also too tired to notice his bag suddenly get a little heavier.
"How unfortunate for them."
Jeremy was fiddling with a small portable scanner when George entered the kitchen. His eyes were wide with surprise.
"What's wrong Je-"
"Did you check the roof?" Jeremy interrupted.
"W-w-why would I do that?" said George.
"Because there are at least thirty heat signals coming from up there." There was a stunned silence for a moment and they both listened out for another telltale scratch or scrape.
'George.' said Jeremy calmly, looking directly into each other eyes for the last time. 'Lock the doors and shut the windows, make sure that everything is secure and then sound the alarm, I'm not sure these people are as 'armless as simple crooks.'
George nodded solemnly and turned around to close the door. It was at this moment that Jeremy came face to face with the creature that was clinging to George's backpack and his famous soldier's instinct rushed out of him like a waterfall. As the creature's piercing shriek reverberated across the walls of the small room and its great yellow eyes filled Jeremy's vision, he thought of raising his pistol. But thought was all Jeremy had time for as he heard his own screams mingling with the harsh alien discord.