Love, Death and Robots. Volumes 2 & 3

Nielsen pulled his rifle to his shoulder, glancing through his ACOG scope. The dust was beginning to clear from the enemy position, but he could see the bullet-ridden pine trees shaking. Small landslides of shale tumbled off the opposite ridge, along with a body twisted and bent almost beyond recognition.

There was something massive lurking in the dust cloud. Nielsen caught a glimpse of a broad, black shoulder, bristling with sharp spines. One of the pine trees collapsed underneath a massive claw, its yellow talons circling around the trunk and pulling it up out of the ground.

“What the hell is that?” Macy asked.

“No idea,” Nielsen answered, his heart thundering.

“I’m gonna shoot it,” Coutts said, reaching for his M249’s charging handle.

Nielsen snapped, “Standby, dammit. Just... standby.”

They watched for a moment as whatever it was lumbered down the opposite side of the ridge. For a moment they could still hear it snapping trees and triggering shale-slides in its wake. Then it was gone, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

“Well, that’s it,” Folen said, putting in a fresh pinch of Copenhagen. “We’ve all gone crazy. Time to kill each other.”

“Oh, thank God,” Coutts said, stretching. “I’m tired of carrying this stupid thing.”

“You fucks don’t have my permission to die,” Nielsen said, shaking his head. Just get to the rendezvous site. “We need to double-time it to meet up with Team 2. Bianchi has the Tacsat, we’ll be able to call back to Desolation and see if they can get eyes on that... thing.”

“It was a honey badger,” Folen said. Coutts snickered. “Honey badgers don’t give a shit.”

“Whatever it was, I don’t want to be with you idiots when it shows up again.” Nielsen turned and headed back up the spur. The others fell into place, the sound of doubt hiding inside their muttered jokes and curses.

* * *

Team 2 was dead. Not just dead; devoured, ripped apart, scattered all over the plateau where they’d been supposed to meet. None of them were remotely identifiable. It was all a jumble of torsos and spent shell casings.

“Honey badger got here first,” Coutts said, kicking at a massive claw embedded in a rapidly-cooling torso. “Look at this thing.” He pulled it free, holding it up like a sword. “Almost as big as my dick.”

“We gonna talk about this?” Erwin said, glancing at Nielsen. “Or are we just gonna keep pretending nothing weird is going on?”

“Pretending has my vote,” Folen said. He pulled a blood-soaked grenade bandolier off a limbless corpse and strapped it over his shoulder. “I know I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Me neither,” Coutts added, holding the claw against his crotch and thrusting suggestively. “Not getting paid near enough to even start to care.”

“The whole team is gone,” Erwin said. The beginnings of panic edged into his voice. “Hajji didn’t do this, Sarn’t. That... thing killed all of them.”

“Sure looks that way,” Nielsen said. He pulled off his Oakley’s, and put his hand on Erwin’s shoulder. “Look at me. Take off your eyepro.” Erwin obeyed, his pupils darting all over Nielsen’s face. “It doesn’t matter who did this. Hajji, honey badger…”

“It was the Loch Ness monster!” Coutts said. Macy and Folen laughed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nielsen repeated. “We’re gonna get through this. We’re gonna find the Tacsat, call back to Desolation, and get the hell out of here. You with me?”

Erwin stared over his sergeant’s shoulder for a moment. Nielsen slapped him. Erwin blinked, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

“Good.” Nielsen embraced him, and kissed his cheek. “Now let’s find that damn radio.”

Something started screaming to their south. They turned as one, dropping to a knee in a firing line, facing the direction of the spur they’d followed up the mountain. The stand of trees on the edge of the plateau disappeared, pulled down by the same yellow claw now strapped to Coutts’ back.

“For the record,” Macy said, slamming a fresh belt of ammunition into his MK48. “It was a pleasure serving with you gentlemen.”

“All remaining rounds to my position!” Folen quoted as whatever it was roared again. “For the record, it was my call!”

“Lovely fuckin’ war!” They all shouted together as a monster came charging up the spur toward them.

It wasn’t a honey badger. It was a bear, or a wolf, or an amalgam of both. It lumbered on all fours, the sharp spines that covered its shoulders quivering with every step. Its wild, white eyes were already rolling, a purple-black tongue lolling between fangs the size of Nielsen’s combat knife.

It was easily seven feet tall at the shoulder. When it suddenly reared up on its hind legs, spreading scythe-like claws, it was tall enough to blot out the setting sun.

Too close for grenades, Nielsen thought as he switched his M4 selector switch to BURST. Too close to miss.