agreed. “So let’s get ready, eat, break camp and get
another day closer to safety.” He turned and walked to his tent. He should eat
some food but his stomach was still tight from the confrontation. He’d have to
grab something before they headed out but he could easily deal with cold
rations right now.
He emptied out his tent and placed each item in his backpack
before starting on the shelter. It came down easily, which wasn’t a surprise,
given how often he’d had to take one down over the last four years. He had it
folded and stowed with the rest of his stuff in a matter of minutes.
A quick glance around the camp told him the others weren’t
far behind. Within the hour the entire area had been cleared and all their
supplies had been packed up. The group seemed a little skittish as they started
out but he wouldn’t complain about that. They should be on edge. It would keep
them alive longer.
His men stayed quiet and alert throughout the morning’s
hike. No one seemed at ease until they reached what Gates deemed a good spot
for lunch. It would only be cold rations but it gave the soldiers a chance to
relax for a bit. This time, however, they threw tarps on the ground and
reapplied the spider poison to their skins before anyone sat down.
The protein bar scratched his throat as he swallowed it and
landed in his stomach like a ball of lead but he ate every last bite of it.
He’d already skipped too many meals on this assignment. With their genetically
fast metabolism, modified soldiers only had so much room to play with their
diet before they started passing out. Showing any weakness would cause more
dissent. And he couldn’t afford an outright mutiny right now. His control over
the group of soldiers was already tenuous at best. The next crisis might very well
sever it.
He gulped down some water to wash away the lingering taste
of the rations and then stood to stretch. “Let’s get this area cleaned up and
head out.”
“Yes sir.” The call rang out as several soldiers answered
simultaneously.
His men followed the order without complaint. And as they
hiked deeper into the jungle, the tension seemed to have lightened. They still
kept as silent as possible. That was just common sense when walking through a
jungle filled with genetically modified creatures. But the men appeared calm
and confident again. Their movements were sure and their gazes held focus
instead of skittering around the landscape constantly.
“Sir, movement.” Jones’ whispered words were all the warning
he had before he heard the whistle. Without thought his right hand reached up
to grab the object but pain raced up his arm at the contact. He looked down at
his hand in confusion. Someone had shot an arrow at him. And if he hadn’t been
modified it would’ve hit him. Nothing in the folders talked about a life form
advanced enough to build weaponry.
He dropped the arrow as he heard another whistle. Only it
came from his left. But he couldn’t simply grab the arrow this time. Jones
stood on Gates’ left, between him and the attack. And Jones seemed too
transfixed by the blood dripping from Gates’ hand to do anything but stare at
the injury.
Gates jumped on Jones and tried to push him out of the way.
But with the confusion of the ambush and the throbbing pain of Gates’ wound, it
was taking everything a second or two longer to process than it should. As they
both hit the ground, red ribbons of blood spilled from Jones’ neck onto the
jungle ground around them.
“Everybody down.” Gates’ voice boomed through the stunned
silence. It seemed to be just what his men needed to jar them out of their
stupor. Immediately the group crouched behind him.
Homer crept over to Gates and Jones and began to examine
Jones. The medic shook his head after a few seconds, though, and then focused
his attention on Gates. A bubble of frustration and anger expanded in the pit
of his stomach but there wasn’t much he could do to vent it. Homer had
another day closer to safety.” He turned and walked to his tent. He should eat
some food but his stomach was still tight from the confrontation. He’d have to
grab something before they headed out but he could easily deal with cold
rations right now.
He emptied out his tent and placed each item in his backpack
before starting on the shelter. It came down easily, which wasn’t a surprise,
given how often he’d had to take one down over the last four years. He had it
folded and stowed with the rest of his stuff in a matter of minutes.
A quick glance around the camp told him the others weren’t
far behind. Within the hour the entire area had been cleared and all their
supplies had been packed up. The group seemed a little skittish as they started
out but he wouldn’t complain about that. They should be on edge. It would keep
them alive longer.
His men stayed quiet and alert throughout the morning’s
hike. No one seemed at ease until they reached what Gates deemed a good spot
for lunch. It would only be cold rations but it gave the soldiers a chance to
relax for a bit. This time, however, they threw tarps on the ground and
reapplied the spider poison to their skins before anyone sat down.
The protein bar scratched his throat as he swallowed it and
landed in his stomach like a ball of lead but he ate every last bite of it.
He’d already skipped too many meals on this assignment. With their genetically
fast metabolism, modified soldiers only had so much room to play with their
diet before they started passing out. Showing any weakness would cause more
dissent. And he couldn’t afford an outright mutiny right now. His control over
the group of soldiers was already tenuous at best. The next crisis might very well
sever it.
He gulped down some water to wash away the lingering taste
of the rations and then stood to stretch. “Let’s get this area cleaned up and
head out.”
“Yes sir.” The call rang out as several soldiers answered
simultaneously.
His men followed the order without complaint. And as they
hiked deeper into the jungle, the tension seemed to have lightened. They still
kept as silent as possible. That was just common sense when walking through a
jungle filled with genetically modified creatures. But the men appeared calm
and confident again. Their movements were sure and their gazes held focus
instead of skittering around the landscape constantly.
“Sir, movement.” Jones’ whispered words were all the warning
he had before he heard the whistle. Without thought his right hand reached up
to grab the object but pain raced up his arm at the contact. He looked down at
his hand in confusion. Someone had shot an arrow at him. And if he hadn’t been
modified it would’ve hit him. Nothing in the folders talked about a life form
advanced enough to build weaponry.
He dropped the arrow as he heard another whistle. Only it
came from his left. But he couldn’t simply grab the arrow this time. Jones
stood on Gates’ left, between him and the attack. And Jones seemed too
transfixed by the blood dripping from Gates’ hand to do anything but stare at
the injury.
Gates jumped on Jones and tried to push him out of the way.
But with the confusion of the ambush and the throbbing pain of Gates’ wound, it
was taking everything a second or two longer to process than it should. As they
both hit the ground, red ribbons of blood spilled from Jones’ neck onto the
jungle ground around them.
“Everybody down.” Gates’ voice boomed through the stunned
silence. It seemed to be just what his men needed to jar them out of their
stupor. Immediately the group crouched behind him.
Homer crept over to Gates and Jones and began to examine
Jones. The medic shook his head after a few seconds, though, and then focused
his attention on Gates. A bubble of frustration and anger expanded in the pit
of his stomach but there wasn’t much he could do to vent it. Homer had
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