Forester caught up to Durant quickly and, by unspoken understanding, Durant knew that Forester hadn’t been able to save Jackson.
They continued sprinting their fastest, Forester aided by his relative youth and Durant by his rage and fear at losing one of the men under his care.
Coming through a particularly large formation of tanks and missile carriers, the two men saw Carlson and Williams waving at them from an enormous cargo vehicle, piled nearly forty feet high with large containers, which had gaping holes in their sides where rust had eaten through their thin metal skin.
Still in the act of climbing into the highest crates, Williams had to force himself not to cry aloud as he saw the wave of creatures advancing on their position.
Throwing themselves at the vehicle with abandon, Forester and Durant scrambled up a natural ladder of rusted handholds and made it into the pitch black crate at the top of the pile, which the other two had already taken refuge in.
As Durant, ever the last man through a door, crawled inside, he turned and saw the first creature sprint by their refuge, breathing an internal sigh of unspeakable relief that they had found somewhere to hide.
Though his happiness was short lived.
Drums sounded from farther down the passage, in the direction that they’d originally traveled from. Deep thrumming notes, which were joined by the sounds of rattling and the scraping of metal on metal. The noise increasing in intensity quickly, him and the other three watched from above as the creatures below halted in their tracks, screaming in apparent frustration and fear.
The feral monsters bunched together, fifty strong and not twenty feet from their hiding place, as the drums reached a fevered pitch and suddenly torches were ignited and flooded the cavernous highway with intense fire light.
Standing below them in a formation of rows of spears and drummers, clad in garments of bone and string, stood two hundred of the most terrifying creatures that they had seen yet.
Wearing helmets made from skulls of their own kind, and deep scars carved into complex patterns upon every inch of exposed skin, they carried spears fashioned from jagged scraps of steel, the back ranks of the formation beating upon drums that looked as though they might have been fashioned from the skin of fallen foes.
Shrieking, yelling and plainly enraged at their hunt being cut short, the feral creatures began to advance cautiously upon the now motionless lines of bone clad warriors.
But, before they could advance more than a few steps, one of the Bone Warriors, the largest and best fed by far, began screaming in words that the human’s ears could not make sense of. As it screamed its protest at the feral creatures presence, it began stomping its feet and clapping open palms upon its own chest and arms.
At some command hidden within the screams of their leader, the first two lines of Bone Warriors lowered their spears towards their enemy, giving a deep and simultaneous shout as they all took a knee, exposing the third and fourth lines of warriors, who the humans all saw did not carry weapons or drums.
Still screaming as loud as he seemed capable, the alpha male’s voice was joined by heavier drum beats and, suddenly, the third and fourth lines of warriors began dancing what was an unmistakable haka.
Like a sickening bastardization of a traditional Māori war dance, the warriors shouted in unison, their voices shaking the walls of the cavern.
As one, they slapped their chests, rattling their shirts of bone, and shouted their deepest war call yet, taking a deliberate and exaggerated step forward, which was mirrored by the spear carrying warriors, who rose from a knee to step forward, returning to a kneeling position afterwards.
Moving forward together, a wall of spears and drumbeats, the feral monsters began to falter, the ones near the back of the pack retreating back towards the barrier.
The alpha of the feral pack, or perhaps the stupidest, seemed to be working himself into a rage, actually taking a step towards the line of spears.
As more of his pack abandoned him, he continued screaming his own challenge back at the Bone Warriors.
Walls still shaking and echoing their horrible war calls, the warriors continued forward, echoing the shouts of their leader, whose eyes were rolling in his head with the force of his rage.
Finally, giving into his animal rage, the feral alpha charged forward, flanked by only three of his fellows.
Immediately, the dancing Bone Warriors began guttural shouts in unison, slamming their feet upon the ground and slapping their upper arms. Simultaneously, the front two lines of spear carriers rose to their full height and withdrew their spears, waiting for the proper striking moment.
Knowing exactly how it would play out, and feeling a horrified respect and terror for the Bone Tribe below him, Durant watched as all four of the charging ferals were skewered upon an impenetrable line of spears.
As the metal spears were pulled from their victims, the few remaining feral creatures broke ranks and fled, causing the front lines of spear carriers to clear a path for the dancing warriors, who drew bone clubs from their backs and surged forward, quickly chasing down the less fortunate ferals and caving in skulls and tearing limbs from the poor creatures with nothing but claws and brute strength.
Finally, as the last club was swung covering itself in the blood of their enemy, the drumming and shouting stopped.
The silence lasted a long and terrible moment, as all four humans could feel their hearts trying to claw its way out of their rib cages, as though it desired nothing more than to claw its way through the stone ceiling until it found daylight.
At last, the alpha of the Bone Tribe gave a command to his forces, who immediately set about with small jagged knives of steel and bone, and began to dismember their fallen foes. Moving forward, many of the Bone Warriors who had been beating upon drums, now carried sacks of woven hide, open and waiting for them to be filled with body parts.
Unable to do anything but watch, the hidden humans watched the bloody work, incapable of looking away.
With a small whimper that earned him a furious glare from all three of the other men, Carlson’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as a human arm was clearly visible in one the sacks being carried back deeper into the the cavern.
3y 2m 3w 2d BV
“Alright, pay attention closely to this, because if you find that you ever need to do this, you’ll thank yourself that you learned it right.” Staff Sergeant Bomer grunted at the three rows of students in his class.
Pointing at the man on Sgt Jennings right, whom he had sat with so as to quietly continue a friendly argument over football from the previous night, Sergeant Bomer said, “Watson, get your ass up here, you will be my dummy.”
With a dismayed, “Yes, sergeant,” and an expression of half hearted professionalism, Sergeant Watson stepped forward and followed the instructions given to him.
A minute later, he was wearing the odd combination of a middle eastern Keffiyeh head scarf and the standard digital camo uniform, with a plastic AK-47 held in his hands.
Used to such demonstrations, Jennings only smiled in a small commiserating way at his friend.
Staff Sergeant Bomer walked behind him, and in one hand he held up a rubber replication of a standard Army combat knife, saying, “Sometimes, when you are separated and in need of a weapon or a stealthy escape, you may find it necessary to kill a single enemy fighter, while maintaining strict noise discipline. This form was taught to me by a Force Recon Marine, several years ago. It was originally used to kill lone enemy sentries in Vietnam.”
Bracing for the rough treatment that he was sure to receive at Bomer’s hands, Sergeant Watson spread his legs apart into a stable fighting stance.
“Now there is more than one way to skin a cat, but this is how I want all of you to get it done. First, you must take your enemies back by whatever means necessary, though a close quarters ambush is the only way to ensure a perfect execution. Second, take your non-dominant arm, and wrap it around your opponent’s head, making sure to place the crook of your elbow over his mouth.”
Bomer now did just so, striking quickly, to show proper form.
Sergeant Watson let his arms hang limp as he suffered his indignity, instead breathing through his nose as Bomer continued, saying, “Next, after making sure that your opponent can not cry out and alert the enemy, you must wrench his head backwards forcefully, exposing the throat. After doing so, you will apply the knife like so.”
Gently forcing Watson’s head back so as not to injure him, Watson suddenly felt very vulnerable as Staff Sergeant Bomer held the rubber knife to his throat.
“You will hold the knife just so, so that the blade will not cut through the windpipe first, but instead will slide smoothly in between the space between the spine and the airway.”
Mimicking the sharp thrust he described, Watson flinched only slightly.
Ignoring the reflex of the man held in his grip, Bomer continued, “Next, you will sharply turn the cutting edge of the blade outwards, away from both yours and your opponent’s body, and both force the blade outwards through his airway, while performing a slicing cut as if you were withdrawing the blade from their neck. If done quickly and correctly, this will sever the airway, splitting their entire neck open at the front and cutting through at least one major artery, as well as preventing your opponent from ever being able to call for help.”
Releasing his would-be victim, Bomer asked, “Any questions?”
When none of them spoke, he said, “Excellent, divide into pairs and go by the numbers. I want all of you proficient within the hour.”
4y 10m 1w 6d AV
It seemed that hours passed as the Bone Tribe did their work, collecting their new food stores from their brutalized foes.
Nothing remained of the bodies when they were done, as they even soaked up pools of blood with cloth and squeezed the liquid out into various containers. Watching as they did so, disgusted by what he saw, Durant had no choice but to accept that this behavior was likely necessary on this planet.
Silent and unmoving, for the second time today, they hid and waited until they were finally alone.
As the light from the last torch retreated down the highway from wherever it had come, they continued to wait, straining to hear any noises coming from either direction.
When it seemed as though another hour had passed, Durant tapped Captain Williams on the shoulder, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.
“Let’s get out of here. Make for the exit and gather any water that you can manage.” he said, ignoring the stern look Williams gave him.
All three men moving at his words, limbs stiff from lack of use and and the cold, they began a careful descent from their hiding place and moved toward the barricade of vehicles, which now obviously marked the border of the Bone Tribe’s territory.
As they made their way closer to the wall, Durant saw the place where Jackson had fallen, a thin covering of blood marking the floor where his blood could no longer be mopped up any further.
Seeing Forester’s own gaze linger on the spot a moment longer than was necessary, Durant placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, saying in a hushed voice, “It’s not your fault. I’m sure you did everything that you could. Don’t let it weigh on you, kid.”
Locking eyes with Durant, Forester replied, “Don’t worry about me, sir. I did do everything that I could. I know that.”
Hissing back towards the two of them, they turned as Williams said, “The exit’s right there, and it looks like there’s a crack in the wall opposite the exit that’s leaking water! But…there…there’s something that you have to see Durant.”
Already aware of what he would see, Forester hung back as Durant climbed up the wall, noting gladly that they were alone in the tunnel for the moment, as well as seeing pink light flooding one of the walls with light. But that wasn’t what held his attention.
Mesmerized by the sight, Durant climbed down the opposite side of the barrier, walking towards the sight before him.
Devoid of the blue fungus that illuminated the entire highway, it was instead illuminated by the fainter pink light of the night sky, which was why they’d not seen it before.
Walking forward, Durant passed mounds of ancient corpses, battle positions and cannons, machine guns and bombs, all smashed to pieces. Out of place and left to rust where they’d fallen, huge metal creatures lay scarred and ravaged, blocking large portions of the pathway, forcing him to wend his way around them.
But, it wasn’t the bodies that held his sense of awe.
The walls of the highway had given way to a room the size of a stadium.
Enormous murals covered the walls, carved into the stone, scarred and blasted away in sections, running the entire length of the room.
Analogous to egyptian murals and hieroglyphics, it showed people, the actual people that had evolved on this planet, bowing to what were supposedly their Gods. Further into the room, still surrounded by thousands of corpses, one mural caught his attention.
It was the immediately familiar sight of a mushroom cloud.
The murals looked like a collective history of their entire race.
Many of the murals were beyond reading as he continued farther through the carnage, completely destroyed by weapons fire, as it looked like the fighting had been heaviest at the far end of the room.
The reason for the brutal battle was extremely apparent as he got closer to the opposite wall, just as Durant’s remaining fellows caught up with.
Standing over a hundred feet high, guarded by massive statues of armor clad warriors, was an ornate and intricately detailed door. Covered in what looked like gold and precious metals, the door held it’s own mural, free of the tiniest defect and the ground near it free of even a single body or machine corpse, even though the statues just beside it bore signs of the long forgotten battle that took place here.
Detailed to the extreme, even at a distance, they could see that it depicted hundreds of the people that had created it.
Standing above them, larger and with greater detail, was a life sized and perfect rendition of what the creatures here must have at one point looked like, with wide spaced eyes and sharp features, standing naked, above the others of his kind, looking down upon them.
As it stood above them, it watched as the rest were depicted burning in a lake of fire.
He’d done the best that his sore limbs could manage, and had at least beaten the main hunting party, but over unfamiliar terrain and tired as he was, he wasn’t quick enough to overtake the scouting parties.
The three groups had split up quickly after leaving the area, one group following the tracks and the others moving towards higher ground and, flanking widely around the creatures, Jennings climbed a steep incline that he never would have considered traversing under different circumstances.
Cresting the top of the rise, he’d done his best to ignore the oppressive heat, which in all honesty he was actually acclimatizing to, and followed Kayla’s path of travel as closely as he dared, aided by his datapad and the info from her still broadcasting beacon.
Now, exhausted as he was, after travelling as fast as he could manage, he was now less than a mile from Kayla’s location.
Becoming even more cautious, if that was possible, he traveled along a jagged outcropping of boulders, listening for the slightest sound of movement. But, for the first time in what he assumed must have been days, he heard a welcome, even exciting, sound.
Gurgling water sounds were coming from just around the corner of the boulders, and the sound of dripping water brought new life into his body, demanding that he find the source.
Forcing down his own impatience, and maintaining his cautious movements, he skirted carefully around the boulders, aware that he might not be the only one who was thirsty.
His caution proved to be very well validated, as he had to stifle a quick gasp, as he turned a corner and found himself staring at the back of a lone creature, standing guard a few dozen feet away from the other member of its scouting party. The other creature was drinking copious amounts of water from a pure mountain spring, spouting directly from underneath the jagged outcrop of boulders, it’s own back turned to both Jennings and its lookout.
Flame forged resolve formed in his chest as Jennings decided that he would be taking the spring for himself.
Advancing silently towards the back of the monster standing guard over his fellow, Jennings pulled his knife free of its sheath with only a whispered slither.