The sound of bullets impacting in front of him and hissing past his head was far too much danger for Marek’s liking, and he dropped to the deck, trying to find as much shelter as possible behind the structure of the gun turret. It seemed no time for bravery, especially as he had no real idea what he was doing, and the ocean had become a storm of gunfire as both ships recklessly traded bullets. Keresi was swinging his turret this way and that, strafing the Japanese ship, while the Captain was firing more purposefully against individual Japanese sailors, though the distance was too great for him to have much accuracy.
Soon, the enemy boat had turned around entirely and was powering back towards the Iron Sparrow. Marek saw the Captain studying the other ship, perhaps trying to determine which direction it was going to dart in order to pass by them. All the while, the enemy boat was quickly closing the gap to them.
Too late, both Marek and the Captain realised the Japanese didn’t intend to pass by them at all. The enemy vessel heaved itself over a wave, and then crashed straight into the front right of the Iron Sparrow with a crunch and groan of steel on steel. The Japanese tactic failed to do any large amount of damage, but it did cause both ships to stop almost entirely dead in the water, deadlocked in their proximity.
There was a yell from the Japanese crew, and Marek saw two sailors running up the other ship’s deck, heading straight for him. Marek didn’t know much about naval warfare, but even he could see they were obviously intending to jump across and board the Sparrow, which would likely be bad news for him. Even so, he continued to shelter, unable to force himself into action. The sailors continued to yell as they ran with ferocious expressions fixed on their faces, already only a few metres away.
Then Beck popped out from behind the cabin, swiftly steadied her rifle, and fired two shots in quick succession at the closest sailor, who was immediately silenced and dropped to the deck like someone had flicked his off switch. The other rushing sailor paused briefly to examine his comrade’s fate, which provided enough opportunity for the Captain to fire a short burst from his Tommy gun straight at the man’s chest, permanently silencing him too.
There were no more enemies visible, but Marek could hear lots of Japanese shouting coming from within the other cabin.
“Beck, grenade!” the Captain yelled, firing a suppressive burst at the enemy ship’s cabin before quickly loading another magazine.
Beck nodded, palming a grenade. With a pull of the pin, she sent it sailing over onto the other boat, where it slid precariously along the deck for a few seconds before falling off into the sea below. A moment later, a substantial blast sent a plume of water roaring into the air, and when it settled Marek could see that some holes had appeared in the side of the enemy ship where it had already been weakened by the collision. As the boat rocked over the waves, some holes dipped below the waterline. The boat was starting to slowly sink. Panicked yells sounded out from the wounded vessel, and a couple of sailors poked their heads out of the cabin to try and inspect the damage, though the Captain promptly sent them running back inside with a few bursts from his gun. Soon, Marek heard the enemy boat’s engine wind up as it began trying to reverse course.
“They’re on the run!” the Captain called out with enthusiasm. He pointed aggressively at the other ship. “Marek, get back on your gun and give them hell! Beck, give them another grenade.”
It was clear the situation had passed some kind of tipping point. No longer feeling under any direct threat, Marek tentatively shuffled to his feet and once again grasped the heavy machine gun. Within his hands he could feel its dormant destructive potential, which demanded only a steady operator in order to impart devastation.
Marek took a moment to focus, then hauled the gun to bear on the enemy ship, which was still desperately trying to extricate itself from the Iron Sparrow’s vicinity, without much success. With newfound resolution, he squeezed the trigger, directing his line of fire straight towards the front of the other boat at the waterline. The first few seconds of firing did little except dent the thick steel hull, but as Marek continued to concentrate his fire the steel steadily weakened and rounds began to penetrate through with vigour, punching a patchwork of large holes that immediately started to take in water. Off to his side, Keresi was doing some hole-punching of his own against the damaged vessel. The boat, already floundering from the previous grenade damage, began to pitch forwards, sinking faster still. The Captain cheered.
Behind him, Beck stood up, pulled the pin on another grenade, arced her arm back, and then the boat bucked over a wave and the grenade slipped out of her grip and fell onto the deck, rolling towards the back of the Sparrow. Panic flashed across her face, and she dived forwards, towards Marek and away from the small metal orb. Moments later, a bright yellow flash and a small cloud of white smoke erupted from the back of the ship, and a yell sounded out from the centre turret. Through the rapidly clearing smoke, Marek saw the surface of the cabin’s side had been lacerated with dozens of slashes. Above, Keresi was holding his right shoulder, which was shifting through ever-deepening shades of red. “Shit!” he yelled, studying his condition – as much in apparent surprise as anything else. Beck’s face was frozen with a look of shock, and she remained motionless where she had landed.
----------------------
As William drifted down through the fog, he soon found himself being lashed by branches, which reached and scraped against him like skeletal limbs, and he knew he must be approaching the ground.
While this proved true, the thick jungle canopy prevented the final traversal, as his parachute quickly tangled itself on a tree and left him hanging a few metres from the ground. Without any other recourse available, he braced himself and then yanked on the parachute’s release cord, which dropped him like an anchor onto the ground below.
Even having readied himself, the impact proved heavy, and his legs immediately gave way to leave him lying on the dirt, bruising his dignity but otherwise leaving him unhurt.
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Picking himself up, he promptly set about getting his bearings, whisking out a small compass and a folded map of the island from his belt. The heavy fog didn’t help, as he had no visual cues with which to place himself. He would have to improvise. After a few moments of analysis, he had determined his next course of action – he would head due east until he hit the shoreline and place himself on the map. Once he knew that, he could move either northwards or southwards in order to reach Rally Point Alpha and regroup with his fellow soldiers. He glanced at his watch. 0822. Pocketing the map and with the occasional glance at his compass, he began to move carefully eastwards through the mist.
It was slow going, as he dared not risk following any established trails for fear of traps – though trails had proved all too sparse in any case. He made his way through the thick blanket of grass and shrubbery that covered the island, chancing only a few steps at a time before stopping and scanning for any disturbances or wires in the jungle underbrush which could signal a latent surprise. He knew this island group was sparsely populated by Polynesians, though he wasn’t confident many of them were living on this island, if indeed there were any at all. As for the Japanese – well, who knew where the hell they were or weren’t. It would be just like them to pop out of somewhere, even when there was no intelligence to say they should be anywhere nearby. Better to assume traps than be caught unawares.
He glanced at his watch. 0856. Over half an hour of careful travel, and he hadn’t seen or heard anything save the wind. Even without humans, the jungle should have been teeming with animal noise. Strange. The fog hung low and thick, with a physicality that seemed to surpass simple water vapour. William knew the island was only around four hundred metres wide at its widest point, and in hindsight he now realised with some annoyance that he must have landed right near the western shore somewhere. The fog had certainly made navigating difficult, and he only hoped that his team could regroup easily enough, though it definitely wouldn’t be as soon as anyone had anticipated or hoped.
After continuing his slow advance east for a while longer, he finally emerged from the jungle and stepped onto the soft beach sand at 0911. The beach ran ahead of him for about thirty metres to the water’s edge, and extended away in either direction before it was obscured by the jungle. There was little else of note that he could see, apart from a few palm trees that jutted up from the sand near the jungle here and there. The waves gently lapped at the shore, and the wind crept through the jungle behind him. Without the fog, he imagined the scenery would be idyllic. As it was, he could see no more than about fifty metres in any direction, and the fog cast a muted grey pall over everything. He crouched to one knee and took pause. After a quick draught of water from his metal canteen, he again retrieved the map from his belt and pressed it over his left thigh. He looked down at it, then looked around. There still weren’t any landmarks unique enough to use, just a gently curving shoreline which could be placed against any number of suchlike areas on the map. This goddamn fog. William breathed out a sigh, frustrated.
“Rubens?”
William jumped. He had been so focused on the map he hadn’t heard someone approaching him from behind. He turned, and saw another soldier standing near the forest edge.
“Shit, Will, it is you!” The soldier smiled, and walked towards William.
“Good to see you, Paul,” William replied. He stood up and shook the other man’s hand.
Paul wiped a line of sweat from his brow and took off his helmet. William did the same, clipping his helmet onto his belt.
Paul sighed dramatically. “I gotta tell you, Will, I was starting to wonder if anyone else made it down onto this fuckin’ island. Not heard sight or sound of anyone or anything since I landed. Not even animals, explain that?”
“I’ve had the same,” William replied.
Paul shook his head. “Something about this island ain’t right.”
William agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment, but all he said was “We should keep moving.”
“Right. Rally Point Alpha.”
“Yes, although I’m still trying to get my bearings.”
“Alpha is in the northern half of the island, before the spit. So, chances are we’re probably south of it.” Paul mused. “I say we just follow the shoreline north. We’re bound to hit something or other before long, whether it’s the spit or another landmark we can use to get our bearings.”
Paul had always been headstrong, much more than William. William didn’t like the idea of wandering around blindly, but he also had to admit that he was hard pressed to determine their location on the island with any accuracy, given the constant fog and lack of landmarks. Furthermore, they should be able to progress much faster now that they were on the shore and beyond the potential treacheries of the jungle. The island was less than two kilometres long, minus the spit, and given the time it took to cross it eastwards he assumed they were somewhere near the island’s wider middle. A trip of a kilometre or so up the beach shouldn’t take too long.
“Alright,” Will said finally. “Let’s go for a walk.” He pocketed the map and compass. They had scarcely taken ten steps before a gunshot sounded from the jungle, followed by a scream.
“What the fuck was that?” Paul spat out, saying what they were both thinking. William wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like it. They had both stopped, eyes darting around towards the jungle.
“Stay here, Will.” Paul said quietly. “I’ll check it out quickly – could be one of ours need help.” He smiled unconvincingly. “If not, I’ll run on back here.” He darted off in the direction the sounds had come from.
“Paul, wait – Paul – shit.” William stayed put, unwilling to plunge back into the jungle and annoyed by Paul’s impulsiveness. Paul continued to move off quickly, rifle raised at the ready, and within moments had disappeared, swallowed by both jungle and fog. Then all was silent again, disrupted only by the soft waves and wind and William’s unsteady breathing, which seemed deafening. The jungle swayed gently, as though it was also breathing slowly. The scents of earth, bark, and leaves washed over William, and salty air filled his lungs as he stood motionless on the beach.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed before an eruption of gunshots suddenly rang out, which echoed and diffused amidst the jungle so that he couldn’t be sure where they had originated from specifically. He raised his gun, pivoting slowly as he scanned the trees. Nothing. Just as soon as it had been broken, the forest grew silent again.
It must have been another few minutes before he noticed something at the edge of his perception. Someone was ambling slowly towards him through the jungle, a vague silhouette within the mists. William squinted through the fog. It certainly looked like Paul, but the body proportions seemed somehow off, and he knew that Paul wasn’t so tall. There was a voice starting to panic in the back of his mind, warning him that something was seriously wrong – but to shun optimism now would open the door to far worse possibilities that William wasn’t ready to contemplate. He took a hesitant step forward.
“Paul?” he squinted again, taking another slow step. “Paul, is that you?”
The figure continued to walk towards him, casually taking hold of a nearby branch for support as it cleared the jungle’s edge. William noticed, then. It was indeed Paul’s face he could see, but not the rest of him. Whatever had emerged from the jungle had stretched Paul’s skin, now frozen in a twisted expression, over its own head. It was walking like a human, but the arms and legs were ungainly, slightly too long. It wore no clothes, and was clad only in muscular red flesh without skin. Tattered pieces of what must have been the rest of Paul’s skin were draped loosely over its limbs like perverse bandages. It took a lumbering step towards him, wet red feet sinking into the soft sand.
“P – p –” William was frozen, his mind reduced to a skipping record. His arm and gun had fallen to his side, useless.
The creature stopped a few metres away and stared at him. Where Paul’s eyes should have been there were only two black pits, enclosing small bright pupils that seemed to radiate with a white light.
Then Paul’s face smiled. The scream froze in William’s throat as the creature took another step towards him.