PART 5: RED SKY UNKNOWN
The howl faded, but something still moved out there—heavy, deliberate, circling. Jack scanned the tree line, pulse slow but locked. He could taste adrenaline in his teeth.
He crouched, boots silent over the soft, spongy soil. The light filtering through the trees had a sickly cast—like an overexposed photo, too much contrast, not enough color. His NVGs were useless in daylight, and his eyes weren't adjusting right.
Snap.
There. Right.
The underbrush exploded.
Jack fired.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
Three rounds center mass—pure instinct.
The creature—a thing the size of a wild boar but standing like a bear—shrieked as it went down, tumbling through broken saplings. Its skin was matte black, with jagged bony ridges down its back and two sets of eyes—one pair blinking shut even as the others glared.
It twitched once, then stopped.
The forest fell deathly still.
Jack stood slowly, rifle up, breathing controlled.
He stepped forward.
The thing was dead. No question. Its blood smelled like rust and vinegar. It steamed in the cool undergrowth.
Jack stared at the beast.
Then at his rifle.
Then up at the sky again.
Something was coming. He didn't know what—but his shots had echoed far and wide.
And if one of these things was close… more would be.
He reloaded, swapping to his second mag, counting under his breath.
"Thirty. Sixty. Ninety. One-twenty. Four mags. That's it."
He took a knee.
Breathed.
The ground beneath him was damp, warm, pulsing faintly like it was alive.
He didn't know where he was.
Didn't know what the hell that thing was.
Didn't care.
He was a Marine.
And he had his rifle.