Robinson looked up at the sky, "Fucking typical, you know it's going to rain. I hate marching in the rain. My balls chafe."

"Far too much information," I smirked.

"Just letting you know, for when yours drop," Robinson replied glibly. I really should have seen that setup coming.

Sarge wasn't in the mood for banter, "Quit yer yapping. A little rain never hurt anyone."

Buzz Kill paced easily beside me as we marched along. The bug wasn't exactly a conversationalist, and as the light dimmed the silence of the march played with my mind after a few hours.

The dark clouds, which continue to gather overhead, echoed my mood.

We lapsed back into silence as lightning sparked overhead. I felt naked and exposed as its brief flash lit us up on the largely empty plain. If enemies were watching, then a target had just been painted on us.

Seconds later, a huge crack of thunder echoed out. This was quickly followed by a yelp from Westcott.

"Ow, that fucking hurt," the boy complained.

I looked at him in confusion, a large red welt was visible on his forehead. The way he was scratching at it, he’d draw blood if he wasn’t careful.

Another drop of rain landed on his scalp; it ran down his forehead, leaving an angry red trail behind it.

A drop fell onto my gas mask as I looked up at the heavens. It took a leisurely course as it dribbled down the glass. Then dripped onto my exposed neck.

Fuck, that smarted.

Instinctively I scratched at the area. My fingers blistered as they touched the damp skin.

Only BuzzKill seemed unaffected by the rain. The bug stood at rest patiently, seemingly oblivious to our discomfort.

I crouched like a troll to minimise my profile as I tore my tarp out of my backpack. Holding it above my head gave some protection from the deadly rain. It wasn’t perfect though, a stiff breeze would overcome my meagre cover.

We needed cover and quickly. It was only spitting with rain now. If this turned into a deluge then we’d be in real trouble.

Strong arms pushed me forward. "The farmhouse!" Sarge commanded.

I hadn’t even noticed the structure. I’d been concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other and mentally berating Sarge's incompetence. Yet now, I was grateful for his attentive leadership as he guided our stumbling group towards safety.

The farmhouse was dilapidated and had obviously been abandoned long ago. Part of one wall was missing, and the roof had several gaping holes in it, but it could still offer some shelter.

As we bundled inside the ruin, the heavens opened.

The structure creaked and groaned as water sluiced off it. Small waterfalls cascaded around us, forcing us to close ranks as we huddled together.

It was nearing dusk when the rain stopped. The stream pouring down from the gaping holes in the building's roof slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether.

As we relaxed and spread out, Sarge made the call that we'd camp here for the night. Deep in enemy territory, there was no fire to warm us, so we pulled tarps from our rucksacks and perched nervously in the dimming light.

I pulled out the Chemical Weapon Detector and turned it on. Its display lit up, and after a few seconds, a chime indicated it had completed its analysis. The results did little to improve anyone's mood. The warning displayed was unchanged from this morning.

Low levels of tryptamine gas levels detected. Proceed with caution. Prolonged exposure may cause serious mental instability. At the current exposure levels, serious mental issues are likely to occur in approximately thirty-six hours.

"No change," I admitted in reply to the quizzical looks the others were giving me.

Sarge shrugged, unsurprised. "Peters, Kuwta, hand your masks over. You'll be taking the early watch so eat and then get some rest."

I nodded, accepting his orders, silently impressed by his logic. People breathe more slowly when they sleep. Using the masks in this way would hopefully prolong the time before we went insane.

When I'd been a civilian, I hadn't thought it'd be possible to sleep on a broken concrete floor with only a piece of tarp for a cover. Tonight I was out like a light within minutes, we'd been marching hard all day, and I was exhausted.

It seemed I had barely laid down when Westcott shook me awake once again. "You're up," he grunted.

I rubbed my eyes harshly, removing the sleep from my eyes as I yawned deeply. It was still dark, and just the slight glow from a shuttered lamp lit up his face with an eerie glow. It was raining again and its sinister drum beat was the backing track to my lethargy.

"I'm awake, enough already," I protested.

"Sarge won't let me crash until your ass is vertical," Westcott complained.

I grunted and pulled my spectacles from my breast pocket. It didn't help. It was still pitch black out there. What was the point of keeping watch when you couldn't see anything?

Still, I stood up and stretched, "Are Kuwta and Buzzkill awake?"

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Yeah, not sure the bug even slept. That thing freaks me out.”

"Get some rest," I muttered uncomfortably. Buzzkill was a strange-looking creature, but he'd shown nothing but loyalty to me since joining the squad.

I joined Kuwta and Buzzkill in the dark beside a shattered window. The wind whipped through the broken window, cutting coldly into my bones like a knife.

Neither of my companions seemed to be conversationalists, content to complete our watch in silence. Normally I'm not the most outgoing individual myself, but it was too dark to read, and I was in danger of falling asleep, so I decided to air my concerns while we had some privacy.

"What is wrong with Sarge? He’s a great Sergeant, but why is he accepting what the Scrael tell us blindly?" I sounded whiny, even to myself, like a schoolboy tattling on a peer.

For a long moment, Kuwta didn't say anything, and I started to worry that I'd offended her. She hadn't exactly been supportive of me earlier. What was it she'd called me .. an insubordinate ass?

"Humans are arrogant and reckless. They act for short-term gain with little consideration for the long-term danger. Sarge fears what would happen if we fail our mission," she paused, watching my reaction carefully.

I opened my mouth to argue that it wasn't true. Then I stopped as my brain kicked in. My psychology professor had agreed with her attitude. One of his lectures centered around just this topic, using the prevalence of smoking in society.

In the 1950s, Wynder, Evarts, and Croninger had proven the dangers of smoking. Later on, both Life and Time magazine had published articles citing the conclusion that the case against tobacco had been proved 'beyond any doubt.'

Despite this, the public persisted in partaking of the habit, and the pressure from society was to encourage smoking, not against it. She was right. Humans are basically stupid. I doubted that smoking was a habit that humans would ever escape.

"Agreed," I mumbled reluctantly.

Kuwta's sharp incisors became visible as her lips cracked into a predatory smile.

Then before our conversation could continue, her meaty hand shot up, closing into a fist and signaling "Stop."

She dropped down, out of sight, and I reflexively followed suit a split second later.

"What's up?" I whispered.

Kuwta peered intently through the rainswept darkness, "Wake the others. There’s movement out there."

I rubbed my spectacles with a dirty handkerchief and peeked over the sill. It made no difference; even now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I still couldn't see much more than vague shadows. "Where?"

"Keep down," the Orc hissed as she pulled me back down, "I know you humans are night blind, but not everyone is."

"Sixty-four-degree angle. Approximately half a klick from us," BuzzKill made its first contribution to the conversation. The insect had reared up on its hind legs and was staring out of the window, making no attempt to stay concealed.

I motioned frantically for it to take cover before he was seen. The idiot was going to get us all killed.

"We are cold-blooded," The insect explained politely, refusing to budge. "De'Aths are night-blind like humans. If they see it will be using infrared, and our shell will blend into the wall."

My breathing slowed slightly as I took in Buzz's explanation. Alright, fair enough, I suppose.

"How many of them are there?" I asked after a few seconds.

Kuwta peered out. "Five, probably a scouting party. They're headed this way, running quickly low and moving fairly fast." There was an audible click as she took the safety off her rifle. “They only seem worried about the rain. They’ll regret that short-sightedness, but not for long.” The Orc’s feral grin made me glad she was on my side.

Buzz eyed the horizon intently, then nodded. "We hunt," it indicated after a few seconds.

"Wait, I'll wake the others," I suggested, but when I turned, the insectoid was gone.

Fuck.

I could do nothing about that now. It wasn't my problem if the idiot got himself killed. After all, I'd tried to warn him to wait.

Kuwta nodded, "Wake Robinson, make sure he brings that fancy rifle of his."

I crawled away on my hands and knees to ensure I stayed out of sight. It wasn't Robinson I went to wake. Waking a sleeping bear was a good way to get bitten. Instead, I headed for where Sarge had bunked down.

The old man was a light sleeper. No sooner had I touched his shoulder than he grabbed my wrist reflexively, twisting me painfully to the floor.

"It's me, Sarge." I hissed through gritted teeth. He had forced my shoulder into an unnatural position and pain was flooding my mind.

"What do you want?" My arm flexed back into a more natural position as Sarge released it. The nerves tingled strangely as I shook it, and blood flowed back through them.

"De'Ath patrol, Sarge. Buzz has gone to meet them."

Sarge was about to reply when the crack of a gun firing rang out loudly. A single shot, followed by the thud of a body falling to the floor. I hoped it wasn't Buzz.

"Robinson, I want your eyes out there. Move!" Somehow Sarge had known the man was awake. Robinson rose from the shadows and padded silently past me.

Sarge kicked Westcott, "Up and at it. Dying in your sleep isn't an option, boy."

The boy was still stumbling to his feet when the crack of a gun firing rang out of the night. The shot's echo was immediately followed by the thud of a body falling to the floor. I hoped it wasn't Buzz.

The dim light still showed me nothing, but I knew that the enemy was out there, advancing towards us.

Robinson had taken up a crouched position beside a crack in the wall, "I can't see a damn thing," he complained.

Kuwta put a hand on his shoulder. "Hand me the gun, big boy. "

"Like hell," Robinson spat back.

"You can't see squat. I'm a night predator. Orcs can see infrared just like the skitters." The Orc bared her teeth threateningly. "Now give me the gun before I just take it from you."

Robinson turned and glared at her.

"Just do it,"

Kuwta reached out and took the gun from the Marine's hands. Somewhat to my surprise, he let her do it. "Thank you," she muttered.

There was another crack, and a new voice shouted, "Fuck, I'm hit! The bastard shot me!"

I ducked behind a wall as heavy bursts of automatic gunfire rang out. The enemy soldiers were firing erratically at shadows. None of the bullets came close to us. I hoped the same was true for Buzz.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Sarge asked, as night-blind as the rest of us humans.

"They've three men left," Kuwta sounded respectful as she sighted down the rifle, "Buzz is picking them off. Now we've two shooters this won't last long."

Her brow furrowed in concentration, then as she sighted on a target, the rifle pulsed gently as its power ramped.

There was a whoosh as she shot and the lightning bolt the gun fired flickered out into the night. A figure was briefly illuminated as the bolt hit him in the chest.

"Man down!" A panicked voice shouted somewhere in the darkness.

"They're running!" Kuwta sounded satisfied. Staying crouched, she sighting another shot.

The gun whooshed again, lighting up a fleeing figure.

Shortly afterward, a strangled scream was cut off abruptly.

"It's over," Kuwta stated.

I stared out into the darkness, listening to the crunching sound of bones being broken.

I didn't ask Kuwta what Buzz was doing out there.

It was probably best not to know.