Chapter Six: Christ On A Bike
The day was drawing to a close. The sun hung low in the now-orange sky. The squad had made their way up out of the gorge and was well on their way towards the abandoned farm. Colin turned to Terry and Morse. "Scout ahead, would you?" He asked. "I don't wanna stumble right into a den of titans."
"Aye, sir." Terry said as the two took off into the foliage. Crouching, Colin sheathed his two swords again and took out his compass. They were still heading north, fortunately. Even if daylight was running out.
Morse took point as Terry followed behind her. They descended down a hillside and into a clearing. "Eugh! What the hell?" Terry muttered as he stepped in something. Looking down, he almost vomited as he stared at the pinkish red entrails that were scattered on the ground. "Natural causes my arse!" he said. "Shh. Stop" Morse ordered, gesturing to the clearing. Up ahead was an improvised campsite. However, it was empty and a grim sight.
Tents had been collapsed and torn to shreds, smoke from an extinguished fire bellowed into the sky, fake foliage camouflage nets had been knocked over and the ground was drenched in blood. "Christ on a bike…." Terry trailed off as the two investigated the camp. Inside, the two spotted more guts and flesh scattered about as if something had been torn asunder. Most of the remains were inside the tents, meaning whoever they were, the majority of them had been killed in their sleep.
"Go get the Sarge." Morse said. As Terry left, she bent down and picked up one of the rifles that was on the ground and observed it. It was Military Police. What the hell were they doing out here?
Morse held onto the weapon and cleared out the rest of the camp. There were no bodies. Just blood and guts. She soon spotted other firearms dotted about the place; more rifles and submachine guns. But there was more. Crates sat wide open with their contents spilled out; nets and tranquilizer darts. "What the hell is going on here?" Morse asked herself.
"Morse, what's the sitrep?" Colin called out as he came down the hillside into the clearing. She turned to meet him. "Military Police, sir. They were packing some serious firepower here; automatic rifles and an SMG or two." She answered, handing him a gun. Colin took the weapon and turned to the others. "Everyone, grab a firearm." He ordered. "Better off having a long range weapon with our gear." He said.
The two observed the campsite more as Morse explained the contents of the crates to Colin. "So they were trying to catch something?" He asked.
Tommy hunkered next to a bloody log and picked up the gun that was in front of him when suddenly a shape jolted up beside him.
"CONTACT!" He screamed, falling to the floor as the others readied their weapons at the target. It was Captain Shepherd, clutching a pistol, white with fear. "Help me…" He whimpered before collapsing.