SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

Both marines exited the tent. Wolf caught up as Swerve took hold of one of the fleeing prisoner’s arms. Wolf nabbed the hood by one corner and yanked it free of the man’s head. “Take it easy, pal. We’re going to get you home.”

The man’s head snapped around, fear alight in his eyes as he faced the marine. The man wore a disheveled Air Force uniform. “No. You don’t understand. We have to get out of here now.”

“You’re spooked,” Wolf said as Swerve cut the ropes that bound the pilot’s wrists behind his back. “It’s understandable. You’ve been held captive and mistreated. Don’t worry. It’s over now.”

The Air Force pilot’s blue eyes widened as he looked from Wolf to Swerve. “We have to go, now. The other one, he’s not like us.” The pilot stared over his shoulder toward the command-tent entrance.

“Hey,” Wolf said. “Just be glad we showed up to save your ass. We’ll get out of here just as soon as we regroup with the others.” He tugged the pilot toward the tent.

The pilot wrested his arm free of Wolf and held his ground. “You’re not listening.”

“Stay with him,” Wolf told Swerve. “I’ll get the others.” He moved toward the tent but the bellow of a great beast stopped him in his tracks. He had been around the world, set foot on four continents, yet this … sound was foreign to him. The hairs on the back of Wolf’s neck stood to attention as the beast’s eerie cry resounded through the marrow of his bones. Wolf faltered, then steeled himself. He motioned for Swerve to stay put then advanced on the tent. Gunfire erupted. Not the disciplined ‘one burst, one kill’ shooting he was accustomed to from his unit, either. This was wild, panic-stricken fire, the kind often heard from enemy troops when caught unaware.

Wolf readied his M16, and entered through the tent flap just in time to see Preacher impaled upon the claws of a great furred beast, the man’s weapon aimed skyward and firing, indiscriminately ripping holes through the top of the tent. Wolf froze as he took in the tableau of blood, entrails and viscera that had once made up the members of his unit. The interior of the tent was covered with bodies and gore. It must have also been from the enemy soldiers they had put down – there was just too much of it.

Hawk, Jester, Doc, and the others had been ripped apart by this beast that stood on two legs like some horrific mockery of a man. Wolf did not see the body of the second prisoner as he raised his gun toward the beast. It was naked except for a pair of tattered slacks and the remnants of boots that clung to the sides of its clawed, three-toed feet. A strip of cloth clung to one side of its neck. Beneath a pair of inset eyes that burned an unnatural amber, an elongated snout thrust forward. Jaws housed ferocious fangs sharp enough to rend flesh and bone. The blood of Wolf’s comrades staining the beast’s fangs seemed to back that theory.

Near its feet lay a pair of open silver shackles.

The beast tossed Preacher’s mangled body aside and whirled to face Wolf. Crouched on its haunches, it roared its disapproval at the intruder. Wolf thumbed his M16 to full auto and squeezed the trigger, backing out of the tent as he fired. “Die, motherfucker!”

Once outside, Wolf stepped sideways, out of sight of the doorway. “Get him out of here,” he called to Swerve, as he swapped out his empty mag for a fresh one.

“I told you. I fuckin’ told you!” Wolf heard the pilot say, panic rife in his voice.

With a sound between a bellow and a growl, the beast charged through the tent flap. “Holy shit!” yelled Swerve as she unloaded on the creature. Wolf saw the chickenshit pilot run for the perimeter while Swerve defended his hasty retreat. The beast seemed at least eight feet tall and despite the fusillade of bullets, it kept coming. Swerve goggled. The inertia of the impacts pushed the beast back and she even managed to make it bleed. But not for long. Where the creature’s flesh had been pockmarked with bullets, the damage repaired itself almost immediately. “It’s healing faster than I can hurt it,” Swerve yelled.

With a swipe of one arm, the creature batted away Swerve’s M16. She had barely managed to draw her Ka-bar by the time the beast’s claws sliced her throat on its backswing.

Swerve’s eyes widened in shock. Blood spurted. She fell to one side, maintaining a death grip on the blade. The beast raised its head to the sky and howled. It then loped after the fleeing pilot. With the tools at hand, there was no saving the pilot, Wolf knew, but if he moved quickly perhaps he might be able to do something about that.