[REWORKED]
Marcos awakened from the the floor of the pelican with a splitting headache. Slowly stirring from his unconscious state, the marine let out a groan as he shifted around painfully on the cold metal, his mind was a train wreck of negative thoughts. 'Did our marines survive the crash?...' 'Where is everyone?...' 'Are those damn Covies coming?...'
The soldier mustered enough willpower to try and stand up. Slowly, he pushed himself off of the floor with two hands, bringing a knee under his chest for support. As he moved his leg, a horrible feeling flared in his stomach and he fell to the floor in a heap, a silent scream upon his lips. Marcos rolled to the side after a few moments of laying still, grimly noting he was laying in a small pool of his own blood which was slowly trickling from a deep red gash on his midsection.
As the marine struggled to pull himself to a standing position, he became aware of the many cuts and bruises crisscrossing his body, along with the dull ache of the gash along his stomach. The marine grimaced as his wounds screamed against the sudden movement in protest. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, Marcos finally managed to plant himself upright on two feet, leaning heavily on the wall of the Pelican.
The first thing he noticed after pulling himself off the floor was that his thought was unfortunately correct, none of his platoon was aboard the crashed ship with him. Had they abandoned him, thinking he was dead? Trying to stay calm, Marcos pushed the thought out of his mind and looked around the room.
The weapon racks were all empty, not a single gun was left on the sides of the seats, which puzzled the marine, as there were far more weapons than any men aboard the craft when it had touched down. Had the Covenant come and stolen them during his sleep?
While he did not see any weapons inside the Pelican, he still felt the reassuring weight of his magnum holstered to his left hip, which brought some sense of comfort to the unnerved marine. Inspecting the rest of the Pelican, he made out a shape at the back of the ship, hidden by the black of night. Fingering his holster, he released his magnum and turned on the light at the end of the weapon, illuminating the figure of a foggy eyed marine slumped against the seat, a chunk of the wall protruding from his chest. Marcos gazed at the scene in horror, his bottom lip quivering in shock. He got ahold of his senses and snapped out of the moment with a shake of his head, reaching for his radio as he made a desperate attempt to contact his platoon. Speaking with panic lining his voice, he almost shouted out the words "This is Marcos, I repeat, this is Lieutenant Marcos of the East Company Raiders, our ship has been hit, does anybody-" but was abruptly cut off by the sound of a needle ricocheting off the side of the hatch a few inches from his face. As he took a step back in surprise, his right knee buckled from beneath him and he tumbled out of the Pelican, landing flat on his back on the dry dirt.
The injured marine laid completely still as the dust settled around him. The impact with the ground put stars in his eyes, and a fire ignited along his wounds once more, the gash on his midsection flaring again. To make matters worse, he dropped the magnum when he hit the dirt and it had landed just out of arm's reach. Laying on the ground, the marine tried to steady his heavy breathing as he peered off to his right to see the silhouette of a humanoid creature come out from behind a tree, its form outlined by the dense fog that clung to the area. After a few seconds it walked into view past the bushes.
It was wearing green combat armor, and carried a... wait! Marcos' spirits soared, it was another marine from his platoon!
Watching the marine slowly shuffle into his blurry view, the grin upon Marcos's face slowly vanished, and his heart sank into his boots as he took in the image before him. The creature definitely looked like Private Gunny from his platoon, but the soldier had a revolting green muck stuck to his combat armor. In place of his arm was a long, knife-like limb, and a strange pod was sticking out of his chest waving tentacles in the air. The head was the most terrible part of this abomination, the neck was snapped back over the marine's shoulder, and no light shone in the soulless eyes of the terrible creature, whose blank gaze was set on one of the gray trees. Marcos did his best to keep as still as possible to not attract attention to himself, but he couldn't help moving his head to try and get a peek at his attacker.
Marcos stuck his neck out past the mound of dirt blocking his sight and spotted him, a lone Jackal sitting behind a rock above the Pelican with a needle rifle in hand. It opened it's beak and screeched at what used to be Gunny as it opened fire.
Jackals are infamously known by the UNSC for their marksmanship, but this Jackal was clearly disturbed by the image of the undead soldier limping towards it. Fear shone in the alien's eyes as it fired, shaky hands causing his needles to go off track. Out of three shots, only one found their mark, and it was ineffective. The beast didn't recoil in the slightest after being shot in the throat by the pink needle, instead it sprung at the Jackal and pinned it down, beating on it with its massive arm. A bloodcurdling screech from the Jackal sounded through the jungle as the beast tore into it, followed by complete silence from the Covenant trooper.
All Marcos could hear for the next five minutes was crunching from the Jackal's corpse being slowly broken apart. 'I'm next!' he thought, his heart pounding. Closing his eyes, he ran a quick prayer through his mind, hoping that something would save him from the certain death that was approaching. Marcos was not the religious type, but it was a moment of desperation, there was nothing to do except hope. He closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up, hoping it was all some nightmare.
Opening his eyes, the loud squelching that came from the Jackal's body being smashed stopped. The marine couldn't believe it, had it actually been part of his imagination?
A moment later, Gunny dropped from the rock into Marcos' view.
Apparently it hadn't.
The beast had stopped trying to grind the Jackal's body into dust and instead turned its attention to a newer, fresh body. Marcos.
As it shuffled over, the marine let out a weak whine, too weak to get up and run away. Turning his head away from the lumbering monstrosity, he ran one final prayer through his mind as he prepared to die. Right before the creature was on top of him, a loud SNAP of a Covenant sniper sounded behind him, and the awful being that used to be Gunny dropped dead.
His savior placed their step close to his leg, and Marcos looked at the red armor-clad hoof in front of him and couldn't decide wether to be overjoyed or terrified.
The red Elite looked down at the creature it killed with the beam rifle in its hands and curled its upper mandible into what seemed to be a snarl.
Apparently, he also was not a fan of undead soldiers.
Under the cover of dark, the Elite had not detected Marcos, who was laying still in the dirt. As the alien stepped towards the creature he had just killed, it kicked Marcos hard in the ribs. The marine let out a pained grunt, unfortunately catching the alien's attention. Whipping around, the Elite pointed the beam rifle at Marcos, staring him down with snake-like eyes, pointing the barrel of the rifle at his head.
The air was thick with tension.
The alien's narrowed eyes bore into his own, but the Elite did not fire. For what reason, Marcos did not know, but he was not keen on questioning it at the moment, he was just glad to be spared.
Suddenly, a bullet smacked against the Elite's head, deflected by his armor's shields. The sound of automatic gunfire beat through the jungle as two of Marcos' fellow marines emerged from the tree line, firing their weapons at the alien, who rolled out of the way just as his shields popped. While retreating, he moaned in agony and stumbled as a stray bullet from the assault rifle barrage entered his side, which he clasped with his hand as he ran off into the jungle, his form disappearing into the fog. The two marines high fived eachother, whooting and cheering as they jogged over to the prone figure of Marcos, who was still crumpled on the ground watching the whole scenario play out.
"Woah! Look who's awake! Enjoy your nap?" said a sarcastic Lance Corporal Vato. "Come on man, let's get 'em up, we gotta get outta here! Place is crawling with those little freaks." shot Private Kues, the stocky young soldier held a worried expression as he urged his ally to help. Vato gave a curt nod in response, and the two slowly helped their comerade to his feet. The three began to make their way slowly through the jungle in concentration, listening for any out of place noises as they stomped along through the looming trees at a snail's pace. No one tried to make conversation, the walk was seemingly endless.
Sometime during the bumps and slips of the trek, Marcos drifted off to unconsciousness once more, unable to keep his aching eyelids from closing.