Birth of Heavy Metal Boxed Set

by Michael Todd

  The gunfire stopped and the animal sounds continued, although they seemed to retreat. They’d done that a few times, he remembered from their little run through the forest. They withdrew and regrouped like an army in a battle of attrition. With the coordination these animals had, he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if they had a form of tactical supervision.

  The team moved closer and could now hear the other squad shout. One voice carried more than the rest, and Kennedy opened a channel to connect with them.

  “Squad one, this is Sergeant Kennedy, please respond,” she said through the comm in her sat phone.

  The shouting ceased, and within a few seconds, he heard Davis’ voice. “Sergeant Kennedy, this is Sergeant Davis responding. We need assistance. Are you in the vicinity?”

  Kennedy keyed her comm again. “We’re already headed your way. Heading northwest of your current position. Please advise.”

  “Keep your heading and rendezvous with our coordinates, Squad Two,” Davis said. “It’s good to know you’re all alive and well.”

  “Alive, anyway.” The group hurried forward and soon reached the others. Squad One still had its original five members, and Davis was the first to step forward. Blood spattered his armor which looked decidedly the worse for wear. He offered his hand to Kennedy, and she took it firmly.

  “It looks like you’re a man short, Kennedy,” he commented.

  “Lynch got stupid and tried to break away on his own,” Kennedy said briefly and honestly. “I have his tags to take back to the Staging Area.”

  Davis nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve had troubles of our own over here. A couple are wounded, but nothing serious.”

  “Yeah,” Sal interjected, “about that. We heard some distressing sounds. We were a few klicks away, and that drew us here. Did you perhaps see something enormous? Possibly bipedal, four-toed, and with a roar loud enough to make any self-respecting person soil themselves?”

  David chuckled. “As a matter of fact, yes. We were about to stop for the night when we felt the ground shake. We decided to investigate and encountered a massive critter. It was hard to make out the details in this light, but it came for us, and we fired at it. It took a lot of punishment and wounded some of us, but we took it down eventually. Unfortunately, killing it made the other animals react like we’d plucked one of the pita plants. They’ve come at us in waves ever since. You folks caught us in a lull.”

  Sal nodded, unable to help a feeling of relief that he wouldn’t have to face one of those monsters. Of course, there was no telling if there were any more of them out there waiting to stomp everyone in their team into paste.

  “We were heading back to the JLTVs when we came to investigate,” Kennedy added. “I suggest that we keep moving.”

  David nodded. “We were headed back ourselves. We lucked out and found a pretty massive haul to take back.”

  “Sergeant Davis,” Kennedy said, “I suggest that we join forces.”

  “Um, excuse me?” Sal recognized the voice as that of Monroe, the specialist in the other squad. “I have to say that when we killed the big creature, it seemed to spray us with the pheromones the Pita plants release when they’re picked. I’d suggest you get your squad as far away from us as possible, Sergeant Kennedy.”

  Davis looked from Monroe to Kennedy. “Your call, Sergeant.”

  “That won’t happen,” Sal said and turned when he realized that she had said the same thing at the same time.

  She smirked and said, “It looks like you have your answer, Davis. We’ll stay.”

  “I appreciate that, Kennedy.”

  She nodded, but before she could respond, one of the other members of Davis’ squad jogged over.

  “They’re coming back, sir,” he said. Sal couldn’t put a name to the face for the life of him. Thankfully, the squad leader came to his rescue a moment later.

  “Thanks, Rodriguez,” Davis acknowledged and turned to Kennedy. “If your offer for help is genuine, we’d really appreciate it, Sergeant.”

  She nodded. “You heard him. Let’s move, boys.”

  The team headed in the direction his HUD said the JLTVs were in but assumed a staggered formation of defensive positions as Sal’s motion sensors went crazy. The night vision helped him catch glimpses of animals moving closer. He aimed the rifle toward the jungle and hoped nobody jumped in front of him.

  “Hey.” A hand grasped his shoulder. It was the doctor, Monroe.

  “Hey,” he said with a small smile. “Are you still alive?”

  “Not for lack of trying,” she said with a laugh.

  “It’s a bad time to ask,” Sal said in a low, confidential voice, “but you didn’t happen to take some samples from the big guy you brought down, did you? We ran into it before, but I don’t think it saw us, and I didn’t get a good look either. I have some physics questions that need answering.”

  “Sorry.” Her face twisted with regret. “There wasn’t time. The moment it hit the ground and Davis did a quick headcount, the other animals moved in.”

  Sal nodded, disappointed.

  “I did get a few good images, though,” Monroe said to cheer him up. “I can show them to you when we get back. Or maybe sooner, if we get out of this whole…life-threatening situation.”

  He grinned.

  “Hey, Jacobs,” Cortez snapped, “are you joining us or what? These critters are too close for comfort.”

  Sal snapped out of the distraction of wanting evidence that the animal he’d seen and that they’d killed was, in fact, a naturally occurring creature.

  “So, I wanted to ask you about that,” Monroe said once they were in formation and indicated the rifle. “If you’re a specialist, why do you carry that gun? Can you even shoot it?”

  “Not very well.” Sal laughed to keep his spirits up. “But don’t tell the others. Keep it on the Q.T., but yeah, it started when Kennedy was shot in the leg and we were on the run from a bunch of animals attacking us. Then Lynch died, so it felt natural to pick up the slack, you know?”

  “Kennedy was shot in the leg?” Monroe asked and turned to look at the sergeant. “She has no armor, but she looks fine otherwise. Also, who shot at her? It wasn’t an accidental shot, was it?”

  Sal shook his head. “No, we ran into some hostile bounty hunters and ended up in a little gunfight with them. That was fun—ten out of ten. I’d do it again and recommend it to a friend too.”

  Monroe laughed. “I’ll pass, but a few friends I’ve made in the Staging Area might take you up on that.”

  The two squads created a loosely defensive perimeter. The two wounded members of Squad One limped in the middle and covered Kennedy and Monroe. Sal was also in the middle but closer to the outer defensive positions of the five remaining gunners. Rodriguez, one of the men in the back, opened fire.

  “We need to move,” he called, and Davis, on point, was quick to respond.

  “It looks like we’ll move through the night, people,” he shouted as he strode forward while watching for a frontal attack. Sal clenched his hands around his rifle and pushed aside the pained protest of his aching body as he jogged to keep pace with the others.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sal couldn’t remember any time that he’d thought himself in a hellish place. His whole life, he’d half-assed his way to mediocre success and rode his natural, God-given talents to something comfortable, if not perfect. He’d never had the energy to go after something better. He had felt that to work to overcome the downsides of his lifestyle was worse than the issues themselves and so always accepted his lot behind a line of laziness he would never cross.

  At no point had he ever felt his life was in danger. He had never felt the need to appeal to a higher power or wanted to close his eyes and click his metaphorical ruby slippers and beg for home.

  Until now.

  Surrounded by the darkness of the jungle, the rough terrain with trees clumped together made it difficult to see anything farther than fifteen meters
in any direction. They were surrounded by the screams and cries of the enraged animals. Gunshots filled his world, interspersed with shouted orders from Kennedy and Davis and calls of danger from the rest of the team.

  Sal had opened fire a couple of times since they began the slow jog toward the JLTVs. He could feel the pain in his legs and shoulders and in his core. His body needed a rest—to stop and lie down for a week. He needed to return to California and escape this madness.

  But he couldn’t stop, no matter how much it hurt or how tired he felt. His chest pounded and his hyper-alert mind constantly searched for something that might attack them.

  Was this what being responsible felt like? If so, he wasn’t surprised that he had avoided it for so long. It was a sucky feeling.

  Even the strongest among them now began to lag, and Cortez appeared thoroughly winded. Addams seemed about to drop at any moment. The only exception was Kennedy. She had a look that suggested she could go on for days, and Sal wasn’t sure he could keep up with her.

  Davis didn’t push hard like she did but wore an easy competence—like he would be the same man whether he jogged all night under threat of death by Zoo monster or languished in a hot tub back home with his wife and kids.

  Sal shook his head and tried to stay focused on the fight happening. The squads’ constant motion forced the animals into a hunting response, which was good. Predators tended to avoid attack until they saw a weakness in their prey they could exploit. He wondered if Davis had that in mind when he pushed them to remain on the move, but it seemed to work.

  For now, he reminded himself. They couldn’t maintain the pace for long, even though everyone dug deep and pushed themselves with grim determination. Sal wasn’t sure what rules governed the creatures while in this killing frenzy but didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  A six-legged panther caught his eye. It launched forward, but Sal resisted the urge to shoot although he held his aim as he ran. It flashed its fangs at him and flexed its front paws—both rather than one—in a typically feline threatening gesture. That was the benefit of two extra legs.

  Thankfully, it didn’t follow through. He had no desire to shoot these objectively beautiful creatures but knew he would have to if it charged. The situation demanded that he back his team up and keep them safe as best he could.

  He told himself that he hadn’t fired because he was already low on ammo and wasn’t sure he’d hit anything at this distance and in this light. The targeting reticle in his HUD wasn’t that accurate, he realized. Either that or he merely sucked at gunnery.

  You’ll get better as time goes on, Sal, don’t worry about it.

  All he had to do was survive this round of hell. They should have a shooting range at the Staging Area where he could train. He’d read that excellence on the range didn’t mean much when what you shot at tried to kill you, but extra training couldn’t hurt.

  The panther growled again and revealed its venom-laden fangs before it backed out of the limited range of his line of sight. It was terrifying to rely on technology to survive. He wasn’t trained for combat or the use of night vision and motion sensor devices, yet he had to adapt to survive. There was nowhere to run unless he wanted to end up like Lynch.

  Sal gritted his teeth and pushed harder so he wouldn’t fall behind. His legs were numb now, and while he couldn’t feel them, they almost buckled at the knees when he landed a little too hard. He stumbled and tried to catch himself before he fell. Quickly, he glanced around to scan the area for any threat, conscious that a watching animal might sense his weakness. Nothing threatened him, and he moved on and struggled to remain alert even though he felt he could collapse at any moment. The fight in the clearing had drained him more than it should have, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the pace up.

  Sal heard someone shout a moment before everything went down the crapper.

  He spun, unsure who had yelled. It wasn’t Kennedy, Cortez, or Addams, though. He knew their combat voices.

  It could have been Banner who had caught a hint of movement in the trees.

  “Look out!” the man called in time to catch Sal’s attention as a hyena leapt from higher ground onto one of the injured members of Squad One. The man screamed when claws dug into his back and sliced his armor easily. Its powerful jaws closed around his neck and with a sharp tug, snapped it. Sal wasn’t sure that the teeth had penetrated the thick armor, but the creature was strong enough to break the man’s neck anyway. Before anyone could react, it bounded off him and pounced on the man who had seen it first.

  Sal abandoned his position on the right side and lurched toward it as the creature tackled Rodriguez. The squad was plunged into individual battles as the creatures had seen the hyena attack as an opening since the humans had stopped. They surged in a single aggressive wave, and while the team fought them off, Sal thudded his boot into the creature’s ribs as it struggled to break Rodriguez’ neck. Blood flowed from the man’s arms and chest, but he couldn’t see the severity of the wounds. Sal didn’t want to risk missing the hyena and shooting his own comrade. He could barely stomach firing at the animals and couldn’t deal with killing a human who was part of his team.

  His first kick dislodged the creature, but it managed to lock its jaws around Rodriguez’ arm and hung on. Sal kicked it again, this time in the face, and it finally yelped and spun to attack him. He pulled the trigger on his rifle three times in quick succession. It dropped to the ground with a soft whimper and lay still.

  Gunfire blazed as both Kennedy and Davis joined the back line to stem the wave of monsters. They were packed so closely together that Sal couldn’t make out individual creatures, but he knew they had moved closer. He dropped beside Rodriguez and looked at his wounds. Although he still couldn’t see shit, he wanted to be helpful.

  “Get off me, dumbass,” the man protested and shook off the attempt to help him. “They need help at the back line. I’m fine. Help them.”

  His wounds were deep judging by the blood visible even in the darkness, but Sal complied as his first aid was limited. All he could do was help the rest of the team and have Addams—or Squad One’s medic—take care of him.

  Hopefully, their medic wasn’t the man the hyena had killed first. Sal jogged to the staggered line the team had formed to keep the monsters at bay. The section Cortez covered looked light. The man’s rifle was empty or jammed, and he’d let the massive gun drop to his side where it hung by the strap. He now used only his sidearm, and the animals closed in on that flank where they sensed weakness.

  Sal stepped into the breach. As closely packed as they were, there wasn’t much room between the monsters, so even he could hardly miss. He pressed the heavy trigger as hard and as fast as he could and a line of creatures dropped. The others pulled back from the renewed defense.

  “Thanks!” Sal didn’t answer his squadmate as he shoved his last spare mag of ammo into the man’s hand. He didn’t deny the extra help and quickly replaced his spent mag with the new one before he turned to help the team. The animals now pushed toward the middle. They seemed to have abandoned tactics and simply pressed forward in greater numbers as if to keep the pressure up until the squad ran out of ammunition. Was that concept even possible for the animals? There were too many questions about the Zoo that he needed answered, and damned if he would let them remain unanswered because he was dead.

  Sal crouched beside their fallen comrade. It felt wrong to loot his own people but couldn’t be too picky. He took the rifles and three full mags the man had carried on his chest and looped both over his shoulder. It added to his load, but with the adrenaline in his system, something like a second wind filled him with energy that he didn’t know he had.

  He’d never felt what runners called an endorphin high when he’d exercised. Without exception, he’d always felt tired, sore, and miserable. Was this what they had meant? It wasn’t a high—or didn’t feel like one—but a flow of low-key energy that would keep him plodding until his heart gave out
.

  Sal raised his rifle and fired a few shots into the mass of animals. It appeared that they felt their press had lost momentum and the time had come to retreat and regroup. More questions, he noted, but was thankful for the reprieve. He pushed the spare rifle into Davis’ hands since it looked like the man was empty.

  “What’s the situation?” the squad leader demanded.

  Sal answered before anybody else could. “We’ve got one fatality, and one man injured.”

  Davis looked at the corpse of his squad mate.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  Sal felt a little like he would be reincarnated as an ocean slug in his next life. “I…I’m not sure.”

  The sergeant jogged over and looked at the body. He closed the man’s eyes and withdrew the dog tags from beneath his armor. “It’s Richards,” Davis said, his voice even. The silence that greeted the words was all that needed to be said.

  The animals had retreated beyond his limited line of sight, and Sal saw some of the larger animals drag the bodies of their dead away. Well, that was one mystery solved, he mused, and tucked the mental image away for later study.

  Addams moved to help the wounded man.

  “You all right there, Rodriguez?” Cortez asked.

  The soldier lifted a hand with a single finger raised. Cortez tried to laugh, but it sounded empty.

  “There’s not much I can do here, man,” Addams muttered as he inspected the man’s wounds.

  “Just go,” Rodriguez hissed through gritted teeth. “I can probably hold them back and buy you guys a few minutes.”

  “That won’t happen,” Davis said, his booming deep voice heard by every member of the team. “No man is ever left behind. Not if I can help it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six