Chapter 15

The Marines of second platoon weren't sure of what to make of what they'd just stumbled across. Their minds filled in the blanks, but logic kicked in and told them that they were wrong.

They were so, very wrong.

The past ninety minutes had been an easy patrol. The relatively-flat terrain and lack of any kind of threats had allowed them to cross the six miles in almost record time. The fresh air definitely helped with that.

Now they were wondering if there was something in the air that was making them hallucinate. More than a few were hoping that was the case.

Ahead of them was yet another body. At least those had been mostly skeletal and bore clothing and markings that confirmed they were human. This one was none of those things.

First off, it was huge. Even in its position on all fours, head bowed and shoulders slumped, it was clear that the body was larger than even the tallest corn-fed Marine in the company. Those without advanced vocabularies would have called it a giant. Those with advanced vocabularies would agree.

It's once-pale skin poked through in some areas, though the rest of its body appeared to be blackened and charred. Whatever had happened here, it had happened so fast that it had frozen this poor being in time. It reminded the Marines of what they'd read about ancient Vesuvius.

"What the hell is that thing?" Robertson asked from his position within first squad's wedge. "Is it…was it human?"

"Sure as hell wasn't on the colony mission if he was." Corporal John Jackson, first squad's designated marksman, remarked from beside Robertson. "That sumbitch has got to be at least seven feet tall."

"Since when are you an expert on this shit?" Rosen asked. Jackson gave Rosen a sideways look.

"I grew up on a cattle farm. We measure livestock in hands." Jackson took a step towards the large corpse. At least he hoped it was a corpse. If not, then he sure as shit hoped his friends would shoot it and not him. "Your average cow back home is five-foot, or about fifteen hands." With an open palm, Jackson started at the being's large shoulder and began flipping his hand end-over-end.

"What the hell is he doing?" Sergeant Alyssa Bradford, third squad's squad leader, asked as she joined the group watching Jackson.

"Ten hands, shoulder to wrist." Jackson said as he stood. "So we can add an extra half, give or take. That'll make it an even ten-and-a-half per arm. That makes a total reach of twenty-one hands, or about seven feet." Jackson took a step back from the body. "And if these big guys are built like us, and it sure looks like they are, then that means that reach-equals-height applies to them as well." He turned to face the other Marines who were staring at him in bewilderment. "So, a reach of seven feet means this tall sumbitch is about seven feet tall. Give or take a few inches." The others were staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"How the fuck does a good ol' boy like you know all that shit?" Fletcher asked, his mind trying to figure out how the country-boy Marine marksman had just thrown math and science into the mix.

"Momma always said that if you're not smart, you can be raised strong." Jackson gave his best grin and added a bit of extra twang behind his already-thick Tennessee accent. "I lucked out and got both."

"Country boys will survive." Reed said, fist-bumping Jackson. The two southerners had bonded over their roots, and had become fast friends when it came out that Jackson had been raised on the large farm that sat just south of Reliance, while Reed had grown up a short twenty-miles south just outside of New Hope, Georgia.

"That still doesn't answer the question as to what the hell this thing is." Staff Sergeant Wilks said, approaching the large body. As impressed as he was at Jackson's unorthodox methods of extrapolation, even more so by the fact that Jackson of all people had just quoted da Vinci, Wilks had to keep the platoon on track. "And more importantly, what happened to it?"

"Looks like whatever caught it worked quick, considering it looks like he fell down in the middle of whatever it was that he was running from." Jackson said.

"How do you know it's a 'he'?" Sergeant Reagan asked incredulously. "Or is that something you farm boys are just inherently good at as well?" Jackson shrugged.

"Nah, just my first guess, Sergeant." Jackson replied. The chatter and speculations between the Marines continued as Lieutenant Brink made his way towards the large being's body. Wilks turned to look at the Lieutenant.

"What do you make of this, sir?" Wilks asked. Brink paused and didn't say anything for a while, just staring up at the large humanoid.

"Whatever it was, it was probably trying to get away from something in a hurry." Brink said. He stared at the large creature for a moment longer, then looked past it. "Something that way." He pointed in the direction that would have been the opposite from where the humanoid would have been running. While they were still in a thick grove of trees, he could just make out what he was sure was light hitting the ground in a clearing on the opposite end. "Staff Sergeant Wilks." The Lieutenant said quietly.

"Sir." Wilks said, turning his attention to their platoon commander.

"Give the platoon a few minutes for a break and then let's continue to move. That's our heading." The Lieutenant pointed in the direction of the clearing.

"Yes sir." Wilks said before turning to relay the orders to the rest of the platoon. Brink found himself staring up at the large figure again, wondering what could have happened to have caused such a behemoth to run scared.

And more importantly, was whatever it had been still out there?