//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7: First Contact (Part 2 – Videte Eos Prius) [Reedit] 
// Story: No Better Friend, No Worse Enemy 
// by Green Hills 
//------------------------------//

“I’m sorry, First Sergeant. But I already assigned Staff Sergeant Alcatraz to this mission,” Lieutenant Martins addresses to an irritated First Sergeant Keane, the two Marines pace down the corridor.
The first sergeant attempts to reason to the lieutenant. “With all due respect, sir. I can lead my men into this…”
“And I’m sure you can.” Lieutenant Martins steps forward in front of Keane, halting the war veteran in his tracks. His voice lowers almost to a murmur, but retains his stern tone. “But considering your last tour, I cannot put my men in unnecessary risk.” Keane nearly chokes on his words as he figures out what to say next. But the memories of his previous tour latch onto him like a leech.
“That lone wolf stuff needs to stay behind, First Sergeant,” Martins states. “Now head down to command. I’ll meet you there.”
“Aye sir,” Keane replies. Martins makes a quick nod, and heads down the corridor before making a turn, leaving the first sergeant standing and staring at the floor. He snarls after trying to repress those memories, and briskly walks in the opposite direction.





LCpl. Kevin Brooke
2nd Battalion 1st Marines
2 Miles from Nearest Shore Unknown Date Day 2 Unknown Time (Approx. 22hrs)



My foot rapidly taps on the floor subconsciously as I lean against an M1A1 Abrams tank with Michaels and Pelayo right beside me. Standing across resting against an LVSR (Logistic Vehicle System Replacement) are Sergeant Mendez, Corporal Hends, and Private Darwin. Each of them is minding their own business while we wait for our second in command to arrive. Six more Marines, belonging to First Squadron and led by Sergeant Stan, are grouped together around the corner of the main battle tank. The sound of drilling, hammering and working from mechanics and Marines fills all around the cramped but spacious well deck of the Anchorage. The two LCACs (Landing Craft Air Cushion) parked in the well deck, and some of the vehicles where we are standing still appear to be out of place since our rough arrival. Crewmen and Marines clamor on top of them as they try to make repairs on some of the damaged ones.

Off to the corner of my right, I catch Staff Sergeant Alcatraz speed walking down the narrow pathway between the armored vehicles in our direction. I am surprised to see him, when I was expecting to see First Sergeant Keane.
“Marines,” Alcatraz announces, catching my team’s attention. “Let’s move out.”
“What happened to First Sarge, sir?” Mendez asks as all of us grab our gear.
“First Sergeant Keane is being reassigned,” Staff Sergeant replies when he approaches. “I’m leading this mission.” We silently nod as we and First Squad prepare to move out.

I repeat my checklist in my head again just to pass the time, eagerly waiting to get on the RHIB (rigid-hulled inflatable boat). Eight magazines in my holsters for my M16A4, and four for my Beretta M9. Eight high explosive rounds for my M203 grenade launcher. Fourteen 12-gauge rounds for the Remington 870 shotgun. Two M67 frag grenades, and a Mark 141 flashbang. My Motorola squad radio is strapped to my left shoulder. A Ka-Bar combat knife attached behind on the lower left side of my tactical vest. And finally, my forty-pound ILBE assault backpack filled with at least a day or two of ammunition and some of my other important belongings.

I look down at my rifle cradled in my hands that I hastily scrubbed earlier, checking to see the safety is still on. Michaels’ M110 SASS appears similar to mine, considering we had limited time to ready ourselves. I look to Mendez who is giving a quick check to his M27 IAR, when I notice an M72 LAW slung on his back.
“Do we honestly need that?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Huh?” Mendez perks his head up and gives me a look like he just had a brain fart. I respond by pointing to the rocket launcher on his back.
“What?” he shrugs. “You may never know if we’ll stumble upon those big-ass insects again.”
Michaels silently groans while smiling and shaking his head. “Ugh, you and your explosives, man…”
“It’s probably best if we have that, just in case,” one of the Marines from First Squad says in front of us.
“Alright, listen up!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz erupts from the front. “Our call signs will be as followed! First Squad is Black One. Second Squad, Black Two. Understood?”
“Aye, sir!” we reply all at once, though in an unenthusiastic tone.
“I could’ve made that up,” Michaels sarcastically comments, followed by a mild chuckle from Mendez.

The bell in the well deck rings loudly, and the PA turns on.
“All hands. Darken ship. Darken ship, show no white lights topside.” All crewmembers in the well and vehicles decks stop what they are doing as the lights immediately switch from their usual white, to red. Two sailors ahead standing by gets set to open the large enclosed doorway that leads outside. The two doors unlock and split open like an elevator while we wait. I can feel my heart beating through my clothing, and my mouth becoming dry. The nighttime sky appears before my eyes once the doorway is fully open.
“Let’s move out, Marines!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz shouts. I lightly shake my head to clear my mind, and take a couple deep breaths. My heart suddenly jumps when Michaels places his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” he reassures. “Just a scout mission. In ‘n out.”
“It’s not the scout mission I’m worried about,” I quietly say back as we start moving to the doorway.
“Switch to night vision!” Alcatraz calls again. I pull down my PVS-14 night vision monocle over my right eye and switch it on as we near the exit. I can feel all eyes from the crew and Marines watching us. It is making me feel uncomfortable at the moment.
“Good luck out there,” one of the sailors standing by the large doorway tells us. Marines from First Squad climb down the rope net to a RHIB waiting right below us. This one is able to hold about twelve men plus a helmsman and a gunner. There are four rows each with three spots, with a handrail fitted in between. Two sailors are already onboard: one behind the helm, and the other manning a GAU-17 Minigun up forward. As I near the edge, I look outside at the USS Princeton through the fuzzy green color of my monocle. Its navigation lights are shining as bright as a camera flash.
“Let’s go! Move it!” Alcatraz shouts again. Swinging my rifle over my back, I start climbing down carefully with Private Pelayo right next to me. About a couple feet above, I hop off and land on the RHIB. I almost fall over due to the massive weight on my back. Removing my backpack, I squeeze through the third row until I am standing in my spot, and place it between my legs. Pelayo slides in next in the middle, and then Hends. Staff Sergeant Alcatraz is the last to climb down, and wobbles his way to the driver’s spot.
“Everyone good?!” he calls.
“Aye, sir!” we reply. Alcatraz twirls his finger in the air, signaling the all clear. I grab the metal handrail that is laying right in front of me, like we are about to ride on a roller coaster. The rope net is hoisted back up, the engines roar, and we begin departing from the Anchorage. The cold water splashes all around as the boat gains speed, some spraying over on us. My whole body shivers from the ocean water combined with the wind. Yet at the same time, it shivers from the excitement that I get to do something rather than watching from on the bridge. 

It did not take long before I realize I was completely mesmerized and distracted by the waves swiftly passing by. The surface is basked in the moon’s light, its reflection almost blinding when I look through my monocle. Looking up, the moon appears much larger as it hangs above. The light shines like a giant spotlight in a Broadway show. The stars around it blanket the sky so clearly and beautifully, like there is not a hint of smog or light pollution lingering. For a moment, I realize we are sailing in unknown waters, and heading towards unrecognizable land. No one knows where we are since we arrived yesterday.

“Twenty seconds!”

I shake my head, drawing my conscience back into reality. The roaring engines batter against my eardrums, and sprays of cool water hit my face as I watch the beachfront draw closer through my night vision. My hands grip tightly on the handrail as the RHIB bounces repeatedly over the waves.
“Ten seconds!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz screams over the loud noise. I keep my legs bent as the engines begin to slow down. I give myself a glance at the scenery. Two forest patches lay on both sides of the beach, at least fifty-plus meters apart. A hill rests just behind where the sand ends.
“Get ready!” I can hear Sergeant Mendez yell.

The RHIB runs the beach and grinds to an abrupt stop, shoving us all forward like a speeding car hitting the brakes. And then the motors turn off.
“Over the side! Move! Move!” the sailor manning the forward Minigun hollers. I inhale deeply, letting my training kick in. Gripping my M16 tightly, I hop over the starboard side. I land on the soft sand, immediately setting myself to prone position, and my rifle ready. Pelayo hops down from behind, body slamming on my right as he lets out an ‘oof.’ The rest of the Marines jump out of the RHIB in an almost organized fashion, and surround the boat with their rifles high. Lying on the soft sand, we scan the entire beachfront. We hold our breaths, letting the ringing from the engines in our ears to finally end.

“Clear starboard!” First Squad’s leader shouts.
“Clear port side!” Michaels follows.
“Clear at twelve!” the sailor on the Minigun finishes.

I watch Pelayo and a Marine slowly stand up, rifles still high, and move back to grab their backpacks. Once they return to their positions, I then do the same, grabbing my ILBE I hate to carry throughout this mission.
“Sergeant Stan!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz calls out to First Squad’s leader. “Have your radioman try to contact Anchorage we made shore. Hopefully, we can get connected.”
“Aye, Staff Sarge,” the squad leader replies with a nod, and relays his radioman the message. Alcatraz then jogs over to where Pelayo, Michaels and I are standing. Already, I can tell from his heavy breathing and fidgeting hands he is acting somewhat nervous.
“Hey, uh…” he points to me, but then repeatedly snaps his fingers, as if he completely forgot my name. “Brooke. Take a small team, and scout ahead of the beach…”
“Aye, Staff Sergeant,” I awkwardly reply, while Alcatraz quickly turns back, and orders the rest of the squadron to stand ground. I turn to Michaels staring at me, giving him a perplexed look to see if he saw what just happened. He in turn, just shrugged. I shake my head to get that feeling out. Time to focus on the mission.
“Hends, Darwin, Pelayo. On me.” I point to the three Marines of my squad. My teammates nod in reply, and we begin marching ahead up the beach.

We move up in diamond formation. I am leading the front, Hends and Darwin are covering the sides, and Pelayo in the rear. As we are about halfway up, we begin to notice something odd. The surface of the sand appears to be unsmoothed. Roughened. Like someone had been here before.
“Looks like there were some folks here,” Darwin comments looking down. Pelayo kneels down to inspect the imprints.
“I don’t know,” he says. “They look more like horse tracks. And judging by the amount, there were a lot of them. And made very recently by the looks of it.”
Private Darwin looks at him almost curiously, before raising his rifle to inspect a forest patch just down the hill off to our right. “Where’d you learn all that?” he asks as he scans the treeline with his attached flashlight.
“I was raised on a farm-like home with my aunt and uncle,” Pelayo describes as he stands back up. “I was taught a few things while I was there.”
“Well, you learn something new everyday,” I comment to Darwin, who rolls his eyes.

We continue to march our way up the hill. Surprisingly, it is slightly steeper than I anticipated. By the time we reach the top, it feels my breath is taken away by the view being shined upon by the moonlight. An enormous open field lays right before us, with tall grass gently swaying in the wind. Miles away, I can faintly make out a forest spanning across. And right below us is a dirt trail at least a couple meters wide cutting through the field.
“Woah,” Corporal Hends comments softly. “That’s one helluva view…”
“Oorah,” Darwin agrees. I look through my rifle scope to scan the open field. There appears to be no sign of a house or anything of particular, except for the dirt trail.
“There’s a trail,” I point to it, even though my teammates probably know.
“Well, when there’s a trail, there’s civilization,” Darwin explains. I raise my riflescope close to my NV monocle to get a better look at the distant forest. Slowly sweeping across the horizon, I did not find a singular light source or a clue of civilization.

When I lower my M16, my body suddenly feels numb. My head becomes dizzy and eyes lose focus like I am intoxicated. And my hearing dampens like I am listening underwater. There is a blueish-green outline around my vision for a few seconds until it finally subsides.
“Brooke?” Pelayo quickly steps over to my aid, when I find myself bending over rubbing my forehead like I am about to vomit. “Brooke, you okay?”
I shake my head and blink a few times, and everything I have felt vanishes in a second. I look around to see Hends and Darwin with looks of confusion, while Pelayo is the only one concerned.
“Y-Yeah. I’m fine,” I nod before straightening myself. “Just, uh, felt dizzy for a moment. I’ll go back to Staff Sergeant and inform him. Keep an eye out for anything.” I quickly jog downhill before any of my teammates can say a word. I want to avoid the conversation before it got awkward fast. Thankfully, I arrive at the RHIB sooner than expected. I can hear one of the Marines from First Squadron trying to make radio contact as I approach them grouped up at the bow of the boat.
“Staff Sergeant,” I call out. Most of everyone turn their heads to me.
“What’ve you got?” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz tells me.
“There’s a trail that leads to a forest patch about, maybe a few kicks straight. No signs of civilization, though.”
“Alright.” Alcatraz turns back to the Marines. “Sergeant Stan. You and your radioman stay behind and watch the RHIB. The rest of us will scout ahead. We’ll be back in one hour.”
“Aye, sir,” First Squad’s leader answers.
“Staff Sergeant, I’m still not able to make radio contact to the fleet,” First Squad’s radioman raises his hand before we start heading out. “There’s still no signal found.”
There is a silence for a split three seconds. Staff Sergeant Alcatraz halts between the RHIB and myself before replying, “Keep trying. There’s bound to be an open channel. If any trouble arises, give us a signal.”
“Aye, Staff Sarge.” The radioman dubiously nods.
“The rest of you, on me,” Staff Sarge motions his hand to the rest of us.

Everyone marches uphill in two columns until we meet up with Hends, Pelayo and Darwin. The two Marines and sailors remain by the RHIB until our return. With the rest accounted for, we prepare to follow the long dirt trail through the wide open field. Staff Sergeant, myself, Hends, Darwin and a Marine wielding an M249 light machine gun hug the left side of the trail. While the rest led by Sergeant Mendez takes the right side. All of us keep a decent distance of about two meters between each other front and back. It reminds me of those military documentaries where platoons would go on patrols similar to this, as I pan the vast scenery through my night vision monocle. Or, more of a training exercise I have done many times. The grass –reaching just above my waist– sways gently from the incoming wind like waves as we carry on forward. Peering through the monocle, I search around my surroundings at the vast scenery for any signs of civilization.

“Wanna call it in, Staff Sergeant?” Private Pelayo breaks the silence. “Doesn’t seem like there’s anything.”
“C’mon, Pelayo. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Michaels jokes in front of him.
“I’m not complaining about that,” Pelayo says with some concern, looking around at the surroundings. “We haven’t seen anything for a while. Plus, something doesn’t seem right…”
“What’cha mean, kid?” a Marine asks from the rear.
“I don’t know…” Pelayo mumbles. “It feels like something’s off…”
“Shh! Contact,” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz whispers loudly. We all stop in our tracks and kneel down, hugging the sides of the trail.
“Visual on something. Twelve o’clock,” Sergeant Mendez whispers while peering through the scope on his M27. I lean to the right for a better view from behind Staff Sergeant Alcatraz, and look through my riflescope. There is a horse pulling a cart, but with no person riding it.
“Staff Sarge,” I whisper. “No visual on a rider or anyone.”
“I don’t see anyone either,” Alcatraz replies.
“Maybe it's a runaway horse,” one of the Marines suggests.
“Then how come that horse is wearing a straw hat and a shirt?” Mendez points out.
“I dunno, maybe the person likes dressing up their horse? I know a person who loves doing that to their pets.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Alcatraz stops them both. “It’s none of our business. Let’s just move on.” We get back up and continue our walk, heading straight towards the horse pulling the cart.

Just a few meters away, the horse halts in its tracks when it notices us approaching. It does not look like an ordinary one as I inspect it through my scope.
“Staff Sarge, you ever seen a horse like that?” Mendez asks a little perplexed.
“No,” Alcatraz replies. We hold our ground, keeping our rifles low but ready if the horse does anything suspicious, which all of us highly doubt. However, the horse looks very old, hence the massive amounts of wrinkles on its face. Its body is somewhat light brown, and the mane a grayish yellow. And the eyes are exceptionally large.
“It’s just a horse,” Darwin points out. Sergeant Mendez slowly moves towards the startled horse.
“Mendez, what’re you doing?” Pelayo whispers out. Mendez ignores him as he stretches out his hand. A foot away from touching the horse’s snout, an unexpected shriek from it catches us off guard, nearly making us jump out of our uniforms. Before we know it, the horse drags the carriage, racing past us and down the dirt trail at an incredible speed, leaving only a cloud of dust.
“Jesus, what the hell?!” Michaels coughs, waving away the excess dust settling down. “Was that horse on some fuckin’ steroids or what?!”
“Dunno,” Pelayo responds acting the same way. “Probably isn’t used to seeing people like us. But, you heard that scream, right?”
“How did we not hear that?” one of the Marines answers sarcastically. “Fuckin’ nearly blew out my ears.”
“Do they even scream like that?” Hends asks.
“Whatever it is, it’s long gone now,” Alcatraz stands up to check the rear for any signs of the runaway horse. “Let’s just keep moving and—”
A shine of red suddenly emerges from behind, cutting off Staff Sergeant midway. When we all turn around, we spot a red flare shooting into the sky from behind the hill where the beach is. I block out the intense light from my night vision monocle with my hand as the flare hovers.
“Is that our flare?” one of Marines asks.
“Shit…” Staff Sergeant mutters. “On me! We’re heading back now!”

We haul ourselves with full strength and speed, following the trail again back to the hilltop. Leading the front again, Staff Sergeant Alcatraz quickly plays around with the squad radio to get a connection.
“Black One, this is Black actual! What’s your status?!” he yells into the radio, only to find out there is still no signal to be found. “Dammit!”
“The hell happened?!” one Marine questions. “Something happened to the crew?!”
“I swear to god, if it’s those giant insects that followed us all the way here!” another fumes as we try to pick up the pace. The flare is still shimmering over the hilltop, creating a highlight around the edges as we draw closer.
“We’re almost there!” Mendez encourages. Something hits him all of a sudden, sending him tumbling and grunting on the ground.
“Mendez!” Darwin screams, as we all scramble to not trip over him.
“Mendez is down!” I quickly rush over to him. A Marine and I drag him to the side and check for injuries while everyone else circle around us.
“I’m, I’m fine! I’m fine!” the sergeant assures. “Got hit by a rock, or somethin’.”
“Contact!” I immediately lower my head close to Mendez, covering the back of my neck the moment gunfire is unleashed. In a split second, the rest of the team opens fire around the sky and in the grassy field.
“Where is it?! Where is it?!”
“High! High! One o’clock!”
I look up with one eye open, the first thing I see are two streaks whizzing around the air while everyone opens fire. Memories of those insects we engaged from the Pacific strike back, my heart is pounding and my breath quickens. I raise my M16 high to shoot, but a third blur of gray suddenly pops out from the tall grass before I can react. The wind is knocked out of me, and I find myself on the ground with my eyes closed screaming and flailing with my legs and my rifle in my arms to get something off that is tackling me. I manage to open my eyes to see nothing but a blur seemingly wrestling on top. I cannot tell if it is a giant insect on me. I try to smack it off with my rifle, getting a few blows where the head is, until the blur is finally bodyslammed by Mendez. The two are thrown a couple meters down the trail, giving me a small chance to have a good look as I try to catch my breath. The gray blur looks nothing like an insect we encountered before. It rather looks more like a horse with wings dressed in armor, as it kicks dirt and dust to get away. I watch Mendez pounce on the horse once more, then repeatedly beating it with the butt of his rifle.

A second horse dives in out of nowhere, driving itself into Mendez at full force, and sending the sergeant tumbling further down the path. I quickly stand to my feet, using all my might and run towards Mendez’s aid when I watch the second horse try to drag him away. With the end of my rifle, I smack the horse to the ground, nearly tripping myself over. Dirt is suddenly flung to my face before I see both horses escape into the tall grass. I open fire blindly into the field, wasting over half a magazine and mowing down grass.

My adrenaline is soaring through when I cease fire. My ears are almost deafened by ringing as gunfire and shouting from the rest of the squad continue, like I feel I am in a trance.
“Hends, on your three!” a Marine screams. Corporal Hends snaps to her right, and takes a few shots at a horse diving towards the huddled group. The armored horse crashes into the grassy field like a downed plane. A Marine takes another shot at a second coming in from the opposite direction, sending it diving into the path a few meters from them. The firing ceases a few seconds later.
“Gimme a sitrep!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz barks.
“Up!” a Marine team leader shouts.
“I’m up!” Michaels says.
“Up!” Darwin replies.
“Up!” another Marine affirms.
“I’m up!” I say, before rushing over to Mendez getting up.
“All accounted for, Staff Sarge!” a third Marine looks around. I help Mendez back to his feet as he grunts while twirling his arms and shoulders.
“Jesus, what the hell just hit us?!” Darwin gasps. We stand still for a moment. With nothing but our heavy breathing and the wind, we only stare at one another trying to piece together what just happened. It is not long before we suddenly gaze at a dead animal lying just between Mendez and I, and the rest of the group. It is dressed in gray rugged armor, but its wings are completely disheveled.
“Is, that a horse?” one of the Marines points, his voice sounding a tad shaky.
“A horse with wings?” the second questions. Staff Sergeant Alcatraz begins to approach the dead horse all of a sudden. Before any of us have a chance to object, two blurs pop out from the tall grass beside, flying with sure speed towards the hill where the beach lies.
“Shit!” I curse. Mendez and I raise our rifles and open fire at the two retreating horses. None of us hit any of them.
“I got it! I got it!” Michaels calls out as he races from behind, and pats on Mendez three times. “Hold still, sarge!” He places his M110 rifle on Mendez’s shoulder, taking aim. He fires once, blasting the first out of the air and toppling on top of the second. Both of them drop in the grassy field before they reach the hill. Michaels pauses for a few seconds, all of us holding our breaths as we keep an eye for anymore that can appear.
“Did you get ‘em?!” a Marine asks from behind.
“Think so!” Michaels replies, before removing his rifle from Mendez’s shoulder.
“Nice shot,” I compliment him as I walk over.
A smirk forms across Michaels’ face. “And that’s why I’m the best scout…”
“No time to sit around,” Staff Sergeant reminds the squadron, as he eyes on the red flare beginning to burn out in the sky. “We still need to get to the beachhead. Anyone still got radio contact to Sergeant Stan or the fleet?”
“Negative, Staff Sarge. Whole communications line is dead,” a Marine explains. “Still can’t find a connection feed.”
“Then, let’s get back to the RHIB. Move out, Marines.”
“Staff Sarge, what about those, those… horses?” Darwin speaks out almost hesitantly before any of us prepares to move out. “First these giant bugs, and now this…”
“We don’t have time for this,” Alcatraz protests. “Right now, we need to head back to the RHIB.”
“Sir, but… what about what we just encountered?” Darwin takes a step forward. “We don’t know where the hell we are—”
“Now’s not the time, Marine!” Staff Sergeant suddenly barks. All of us are startled from his explosion. He lowers his voice, but keeps his harsh tone. “We will discuss what we encountered later. Right now, we need to focus on getting back to the RHIB. We have orders, and we will follow it. Understood?”
“Aye, sir,” all of us reply, the startled feeling still hanging in our voices.
“Then let’s move out.”

We waste no time to reform and swiftly jog the rest of the way to the hill. We all remain silent the remaining trip. As the red flare above finally dies off, the ocean breeze begins to stir the closer we reach the top.
“Stick close. Watch your surroundings,” Staff Sergeant orders quietly the moment we arrive on the hilltop. We see the RHIB right below in the same spot.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ! What happened?!” one of the Marines screams, when we immediately notice three bodies lying just beside the starboard side of the boat. The fourth one I am unable to find. My heart nearly jumps to my throat when I spot them through my scope, fearing the worst.
“Move! Watch your surroundings!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz orders again. We hurriedly race downhill in formation, our rifles high as we point our attached flashlights at our surroundings.
“Fan out, and set up a perimeter,” Alcatraz says the moment we approach the scene. He then points to Darwin, Pelayo and one Marine. “You three. Help me out with them.” Michaels, Hends, myself and a Marine set up position on the right flank, separated about two and a half meters to cover most of the starboard side. Mendez and the remaining three Marines secure the port side.
“Check for any survivors,” Staff Sergeant says, breathing almost heavily as he, Darwin, Pelayo and a Marine check each body. I peak over my shoulder, holding my breath as each of them inspect the perhaps-dead bodies.
“Cooper is unconscious,” a Marine finally speaks.
“Same here with the gunner,” Darwin replies.
“Same thing with Sergeant Stan,” Alcatraz echos.
“Sailor’s breathing,” Pelayo breathes a sigh of relief. The tension feels like it is lifted when all four members are still breathing, but knocked out.
“Any idea what happened to them?” a Marine from Mendez’s position calls.
“Not seeing any marks on them,” Darwin responds as he moves over to help Pelayo drag the wounded.
“Load them onto the RHIB, now,” Alcatraz orders. “We leave as soon as possible…”
“Movement!” we hear Mendez call out. We quickly freeze, turning our attention towards the forest patch on the left flank.
“Mark it out, Mendez! What’d you see?” Staff Sergeant replies, raising his M4 and shifting behind the RHIB. Through our night vision goggles, Mendez moves his laser pointer towards the area where he saw movement. It is behind a grove of bushes along the middle of the treeline.
“You two, check it out. Darwin, Pelayo. Cover ‘em,” Alcatraz points at two Marines, who rise to their feet and prepare to approach.

Peering over my shoulder again, I hold my breath as the two Marines cautiously move towards that small area.
“Jesus, the hell are we gonna do now?” one Marine standing on the RHIB asks frustratingly.
“Keep it together, Corporal,” Mendez attempts to calm him. “We ain’t dead yet.”
“Cut the chatter,” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz silences the two, before speaking up to the two Marines moving up. “How’s it looking up ahead?”
“Negative on movement,” one of them replies.
“Hold up. Got somethin’,” the other cautions. Ever so slowly, the two Marines move closer to the small area. Mendez, Darwin, Pelayo and Staff Sergeant cover their six. Guns are raised, waiting and preparing for anything that comes. I cannot help but glance over from my position, my heart beating into my ears. I turn back to face the forest patch opposite…

“Holy shi—!!”

Several sounds of gunfire startle all of us. When I snap my head around, the two Marines open fire around the bushes where they stand. A barrage of bright bolts shoot out at nearly point-blank range from the treeline, striking the two instantly.
“Ambush!!” I hear Mendez scream at the top of his lungs. Without thinking twice, I shoot up to my feet, readying my M16. As I prepare to open fire, my backpack is suddenly hit by something, shoving me forward. My vision flashes for a moment, my body stiffens and quivers  as if I was tased for a split second the moment I hit the sand.
“Contact right! Contact right!”
“Man down! Brooke is hit!” My back feels incredibly numb as my vision spins and warps. My ears are muffled again as I struggle to rise back up with my jelly-like arms, when someone grabs me from my backpack and drags me closer to the waters.
“Brooke! Brooke!” I hear Michaels scream as he pulls me just behind a tiny mound of sand. He taps me on the cheek several times. “Kev’! Kev’, stay with me!” I vigorously shake my head, managing to regain control of my body. Bright streaks fly above and around, giving off a high-pitched whistle.
“Jesus Christ, where the hell are they?!” Hends screams before engaging at the incoming fire.

Laying down as close to the sand as I can get, my head spins as I open fire. My ears ring from gunfire. Streaks of bolts fly in all directions like a light show from within the treelines. Some of them strike the sand within inches from us.
“I’m seeing multiple sources on the treeline!” the Marine next to Hends screams. Within the treeline, there are blurs of creatures dashing between bushes and trees. We return fire, engaging at anything we spot. Michaels and I engage the right side, while Hends and the Marine open fire on the left. I manage to hit the hidden creatures from the source where the bolts emerge, or when they are running for cover. A spear lands several feet between me and Hends. Both of us glance at it in shock the moment it landed before we return fire.

A bright light is cast within the forest, blinding us through our night vision. I hear Michaels curse as we instinctively duck as close to the sand, moving our goggles from our eyes as the brightness dims.
“Oh, what the fuck…?!” a Marine screams at the sight. A light barrier is cast that covers most of the center within the forest patch. Bolts continue to spew out like lasers in a sci-fi feature.
“Hit it with everything you got, Marines!” I hear Staff Sergeant Alcatraz for the first time since the start of the engagement, as he hugs tightly beside the RHIB. Loading in a fresh magazine, we unleash all our rounds at the barrier. Cracks and holes appear where we hit, until the shield shatters and dissipates after several seconds.
“Keep on ‘em!” Michaels hollers.

The barrage of bolts intensifies, throwing sand in the air when they hit the ground,  bouncing off the hull of the RHIB, and lighting up the night sky.
“Incoming fire!” the Marine screams before covering his head. “Someone get some H-E’s on that area!” I peer from behind my scope, staring at the left side of the forest patch where the incoming fire is at its strongest.
“I got H-E’s!” I scream, scrambling to load in a 40-millimeter high explosive round into my under barrel grenade launcher.
“Soften up that area to the left! Now!” the Marine orders. Gritting my teeth, I fire the HE, feeling the recoil kick me in shoulder while letting out a whim grunt. I watch the round land and silence half of the source of incoming fire. My heart pounds as I reach into my belt for another round, struggling to keep as low as possible. I shake off any sand before loading, and fire again. The second round takes out the remaining targets. Smoke and debris blanket the left side.
“There ya’ go, Brooke!” Michaels cheers. “Hit the right side!” Once more, I load in a third round into my grenade launcher. The incoming fire shifts slowly to the right side.
“Hit it, Brooke!” the Marine shouts. I fire again, sending the HE round exploding on the right side and taking out most of the enemies.
“Damn good shot, Brooke!” Hends calls out.

“Need some support on the left flank!” a Marine from Mendez’s position cries, opposite of the RHIB. They barely manage to put a dent on their end as they are being pelted with incoming bolts. Staff Sergeant Alcatraz pokes his head over the RHIB, quickly opening fire at the opposite side.
“Someone lay some fire down, now!” he yells. Several bolts strike the side of the RHIB, nearly striking Alcatraz. Bolts criss-cross above our heads from Mendez’s side intensifies. Alcatraz drops back behind the boat, covering his head with a petrified look on his face.
“Staff Sarge!” Michaels tries to call to him, his voice drowned by the incoming fire. “Staff Sergeant!”
“Someone get on that turret, now!” a muffled scream from a Marine appears from behind.
“I got it! I got it!” Mendez responds, preparing to dash to the RHIB’s forward turret.
“Everyone, cover fire Sarge!”
“Cover fire!” Everyone repositions, and unloads everything they have at the enemies’ positions. I open fire on burst shot, watching debris fly around wherever the bullets hit.

Sergeant Mendez springs to his feet, and makes a run for it towards the boat. Diving head first into the bow just before a couple stray bolts nearly strike him.
“Lay down suppressive fire on that position! Move!” the Marine cries out.
“Clear ‘em out!” Darwin shouts. Mendez starts up the motor on the Minigun, turning its six barrels towards the left flank. The Minigun roars as it spews out over two-thousand rounds a minute at Mendez’s position. Vegetation bursts like balloons. The enemies are showered with hundreds of rounds, ceasing fire almost immediately. Mendez keeps his fingers pressed on the trigger as he mows down the entire treeline. My ears are deafened by the screaming as our side provides as much cover fire. I cannot help but glance back in awe occasionally.

Bolts suddenly whizz over us at a shear amount. I shield my head from the incoming fire as they strike part of the RHIB, then Mendez in the back.
“Fuckin’ Christ! Mendez’s hit!” Michaels curses. I snap my head behind, my heart stops when I spot Mendez slowly dropping into the boat from the Minigun.
“Morgan! Get that L-M-G on the right side! We need suppressive fire!” Staff Sergeant Alcatraz screams. “Someone flank them on the right! Move!”
“Copy, Staff Sarge!” Michaels responds, before making a dash off further to the right, and opens fire his M110. A Marine dives in between Hends and I, grunting as he hits the sand and quickly sets up his M249 light machine gun. He fires in five and three mixed burst shots at the remaining sources of incoming fire located in the center. I join in the fight again, firing my M16 as fast as I can. I grab another magazine from my pouch as soon as the first runs dry. As I am about to reload, we are all blinded by shining light that covers half of the treeline. The wind picks up like there is a vortex nearby.
“Oh, fuck!” a Marine screams. The ground trembles as the light intensifies, and we cover our faces.
“Cover!!” A gust of wind produced by a shockwave throws debris and sand in all directions, followed by the powerful light that shines like the sun disappearing in an instant.

Then, there is silence. Nothing except for the natural wind slowly returning, and the waves still calmly crashing. I stiffly raise my head that has been pressing against the sand for some time, adjusting my eyes to the night. The hearing in my ears takes longer to recover after the fierce firefight. There is a fine layer of sand that covers the crevices of my uniform and stuck on to my face. Slowly and cautiously, everyone rises to their knees, rifles up high. I shake off any excess sand as I stand to my feet.
“Sitrep! Now!” the barking orders from Staff Sergeant Alcatraz startles me.
“Up!” I respond first.
“I’m up!” Darwin replies.
“U-up!” Pelayo answers shakily.
“Up!” the first Marine replies.
“Up!” Hends calls.
“I’m fucked up, but I’m up,” the Marine wielding the LMG says. We hold our breaths, scanning for anything between the treelines.
“Clear?!” the first Marine asks.
“I don’t see any movement!” Pelayo replies from behind.

I bend over to catch my breath, trying to settle my rushing adrenaline and mind running wild. I never felt my heart pound like this in my life since we encountered the giant bugs in the Pacific.
“Brooke, you okay?” Corporal Hends walks over and places her hand on my shoulder.
“Y-Yeah… I’m fine,” I breathe before straightening myself. Looking around, I watch the two remaining Marines of First Squad rush over to the RHIB. My thoughts suddenly run to Mendez. I nearly choke on my breath as Hends and I watch both Marines check the bodies.
“Mendez is fine! Just unconscious!” one of them gives a thumb’s up. A wave of relief sweeps over us after hearing the news. Pelayo and Darwin drag two more unconscious Marines from First Squad –lying where they were when the fight began.–
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” one Marine wipes his forehead.  “What the hell did we just get into?” We all stand, staring at one another, including Staff Sergeant. When we finally manage to calm down and come to our terms, none of us have no idea. What did just happen? What attacked us? Was it those horses we encountered earlier?
“We’ll… we’ll figure this out later,” Alcatraz tiredly breaks the silence. “Let’s get our wounded on board, and head back to the Anchorage.”
“H-Hey, wait. Where’s Michaels?” Pelayo interrupts. All of us freeze, realizing Michaels did not sound off after the skirmish. We turn around, facing opposite directions.
“Michaels?” Darwin calls.
“Michaels!” Alcatraz shouts.
“Michaels!” Pelayo repeats.
“Michaels!” I try to call out.
“Everyone fan out! Search for him!” Alcatraz orders. We waste no time as we hurriedly split to search for Michaels, calling out his name as we go.
“Michaels!” I repeatedly call for him. “Michaels, where are you?!” Panic slowly sets in. I begin to rush around along the treeline, waving my attached flashlight through the ruined trees and shrubs.
“Michaels!” Hends shouts. I push myself into the forest patch, frantically knocking away torn off bushes and leaves, and not realizing I am stepping over charred quadrupedal bodies.
“Michaels! Er— Michaels, where are you?!” My head starts to spin from panic. My stomach begins to ache the more I desperately look deeper. I feel my eyes watering up, trying my best to deny my worst fear. He’s not gone. He’s not captured. But as I find no sign of Michaels, the reality begins to settle.

I march out of the forest, holding back the tears until I approach Alcatraz still standing by the RHIB.
“They took him!” My voice sounds trembled and broken the moment I break out to Staff Sergeant. Alcatraz merely stares back, eyes in disbelief.
“Then, if they took him… there’s nothing we can do,” Staff Sarge meekly says.
I suddenly feel as if my world has spiralled, unable to comprehend the staff sergeant’s answer.
“S-Sir… they took him…”
“Listen, we have more immediate matters,” Alcatraz turns his head back to me. “There’s nothing we can do about this anymore. So right now, let’s get our wounded back to the Anchorage.”
“Staff Sergeant,” I step forward. “Then… then let me go.” I huff out my chest, soon realizing a great mistake I made when making that statement. Why did I even say that?
Alcatraz takes a step forward as well, an annoyed look on his face. “Lance Corporal, you will listen. There’s nothing we can do about your friend. I got wounded on this beach. We have orders to scout this area. Not a search-and-rescue.”
“Sir…!”
“That’s an order, Marine!” Alcatraz barks once more, more infuriated than the last. Again, he steps forward until he is inches from my face, pointing to the rest of the squadron that is staring blankly.
“We don’t know what’s out there!” he continues. “Look how many we came in, and how many we are left! We’re damn lucky most of us aren’t dead! We didn’t even scratch the surface, and we were ambushed by God-knows-what!”
My breathing becomes heavy. I think for a moment, finally coming to the reasons Alcatraz has pointed out. We are in unknown territory. We do not know where we are. Hell, we could not be on Earth anymore.
“Follow orders, Marine,” Alcatraz finishes, stepping away. “Gather your things, and prep for evac. Otherwise, I’m leaving you.” I can only stand in place and watch the staff sergeant hop over to the RHIB with Hends and the two Marines to assist with the wounded. My feet would not respond, as they are frozen in place. I feel helpless after that harsh lecture.

“Staff Sarge!” Darwin calls from the distance. “We found something!” All of us turn to the treeline, where we find Pelayo and Darwin dragging something out of the forest patch. The two Marines rush over to assist when we notice an animal struggling between Pelayo and Darwin. The animal manages to make a couple kicks to Darwin before one Marine makes a blow to the side of its head with his rifle. I watch from the side of the boat as they drag it the rest of the way.
“What’d you find?” Alcatraz asks.
“Dunno, Staff Sarge,” Pelayo breathes heavily. “Some sort of horse. Like what we saw earlier…”
“This one doesn’t have wings,” one Marine points out. I walk around the boat to have a better looks as everyone circles around the knocked out horse. It is a dark gray color, with similar looking armor we discovered earlier. However, instead of wings, it bears a horn at the top of its forehead.
“Jesus, first bugs, now small horses?” the Marine blurts.
“W-Wait, you mean we been fighting against horses?” Hends asks puzzled.
“Dunno, but it’s still breathing,” Alcatraz checks the animal. “We can take it back to the Anchorage…”
“You can’t be serious, Staff Sarge!” the Marine with the LMG argues.
“You got a better idea, Morgan?” Alcatraz waits for a solid reply from the Marine. After a moment, he dolefully shakes his head.
“Then we take it back to the Anchorage,” Staff Sergeant resumes. “Once it wakes up, we question it.”
“How do we know that, thing talks?” Darwin points out.
“If they can form battle tactics, then I’m sure they have some way of communicating.” Alcatraz pauses for a moment as he stares at both the horse and us. “We find a way to make it talk, then figure out where the hell we are. So let’s get going, oorah?”
“Oorah,” we all reply before we make our preparations.

We place the wounded behind the helm, while the unconscious horse is carefully watched over by Hends and Pelayo. With one Marine from First Squad on the helm, the rest of us push the RHIB back into the sea. The engine is switched on as the rest of us hop onboard, and sail back to the small fleet. My mind, still tempered with the events that happened, turns back to Michaels. Looking back at the land, I can only imagine the worst that might happen. He might be lost and afraid in unknown land. Or, captured and being interrogated by those horses or by something far scarier. The only thing I can do now is hope for the best.