by C. E. Martin
Mark Kenslir turned around, ready to retrace his steps and avoid the soldiers, then froze in his tracks. He was being watched.
In all the years he’d been in the field, sent on missions on nearly every continent, Kenslir had encountered, men, monsters and animals many times. He had grown accustomed to spotting them at a glance, in any lighting, in any weather condition. Primarily by their eyes.
Human eyes and animal eyes were very different- particularly at night, when an animal’s eyes tended to glow with reflected light and take on an otherworldly look. But a monster’s eyes- the eyes of the supernatural- they glowed on their own, and looked not only alien, but malevolent. A pair of those eyes was now staring at Mark Kenslir, just thirty feet away.
The M-3 Grease gun he carried spit out a stream of .45 caliber slugs, coughing loudly in the jungle as he fired it from the hip. The creature watching him was caught off guard by the sudden firing and several slugs slammed into its face, chest and arm before it dashed back behind a tree.
Sure the soldiers had heard his small submachinegun, Kenslir crashed forward, intent on closing with the creature and finishing it off. For all their strength, monsters such as these often were as flesh and blood as any of God’s creatures.
His quarry was fast, ducking in and out, around trees, fleeing. Kenslir was able to make out only bits and pieces of the swiftly-moving monster- greenish, possibly scaly arms and legs, a green head, and a wide, brown back that glistened with moisture.
The beast at last reached its destination. It hadn’t been fleeing, but rather luring Kenslir to a sort of clearing in the jungle- an area nearly a hundred feet across, the vegetation removed, the earth packed hard. A helicopter landing area, he guessed.
He sprinted out of the thick jungle into the clearing, raising his M-3 up to his shoulder and firing in mid-stride.
The creature pivoted on one foot, twisting its body around so its broad back was facing Kenslir. .45 caliber slugs thudded against the back, deflected by the large carapace the beast carried.
The creature had a shell.
Like some enormous, bipedal turtle, the monster stood on lizard-like legs- arms and feet tipped with long, sharp claws. A large shell, the size of an ancient shield, clung to its back, colored in browns and blacks. Its head was turtle-like as well- a large beak-like structure where a man’s nose might have been, with thin slits concealing otherworldly green and yellow eyes above it. The top of its head was open- a bowl-shaped depression in which Kenslir could swear he saw bubbling water.
His M-3 empty, Kenslir pitched the weapon aside and broke into a run. When he neared the waiting beast, he launched into the air, snapping out his right leg in a flying sidekick.
The turtle-beast dodged to the side, throwing up an arm to block the kick. Bone inside the arm splintered and audibly cracked and Kenslir bounced back, landing on his feet lightly.
The turtle creature hissed loudly, its beak snapping open and closed like a lobster’s claw. It lunged forward, its good left arm swinging at Kenslir.
He dodged the clumsy blow and brought both fists up, catching the lizard arm and bending it backwards, against the joint. Bone again cracked loudly.
The turtle lunged again as it was held by its broken arm- its neck stretching out from its body, tripling its length. The beak flared wide open as it came at Kenslir.
The Captain again was quicker and brought his right knee up, smashing into the creature’s stomach and driving it back. He loosened his grip on the broken turtle arm, sliding his hands down to grip the creature by its shattered elbow and wrist. With a wrench, he tore the arm from its socket.
The monster bellowed in pain and rage as its limb was torn loose. A single spray of blood erupted from its torn shoulder, even as it ducked its head and charged forward again, intent on ramming Kenslir.
The Captain leapt from the ground, his superhuman muscles propelling him upwards and over his opponent. He twisted in mid air and landed lightly behind the monster and raised the torn arm over one shoulder.
The beast turned back toward him, surprised at his swiftness. He let fly the arm, hurling it as hard and fast as he could.
The broken limb smashed into the turtle’s face, cracking its beak and staggering it back. It seemed stunned only for a moment. Then it reached down and picked up its arm with its remaining hand. Maneuvering the arm back into place, it pushed it against the stump of a shoulder.
Flesh expanded and mended itself, the limb reattaching to its master. Bones made cracking sounds as they too moved back into place. In but a few seconds, the arm was reattached.
Despite having a beak for a mouth, the turtle seemed to smile mockingly.
Kenslir could hear the soldiers approaching. He had only seconds left. But if he’d learned anything in the past decade he’d been fighting monsters, it was not to lose his head.
Not when he could take his opponent's.
Kenslir leapt forward, pushing off from the ground and using his inhuman strength to close the distance in a heartbeat. He struck the beast with all his might, his fist smashing into its face and splintering its beak. The blow was so terrific the monster’s vertebrae shattered in its neck and water filling the depression in its head was thrown out.
The turtle staggered backwards, trying to get its footing.
Kenslir pressed his attack, unleashing a front kick, his right boot exploding the bones in the monsters left knee, bending the limb backwards. He then pivoted and drove his right fist down into the other leg, shattering the monster’s other knee.
The turtle dropped to the ground, trying to catch itself with both clawed hands.
Kenslir quick drew the Bowie knife hanging handle-down on his combat harness and slashed out with it. Even as the turtle tried to look up at him, its head was removed with one ferocious, bone-cleaving cut.
The turtle body shuddered and fell to the ground beside the head.
Kenslir was about to kick the head, sending it flying far away into the jungle when a score of AK-47s opened fire behind him. A hail of 7.62mm slugs slammed into his back, neck, arms and legs as he was riddled with bullets.
He collapsed to the ground, pretending to lose consciousness and marveling at how truly ineffective the gunfire had been.
***
The NVA carried Kenslir back to their nearby base, binding his arms and legs with ropes- they had after all witnessed him destroy a creature they had thought was invincible.
Throughout the long journey, the Captain remained limp and unresponsive- he had mastered such bodily disciplines in Korea, after the war, when he had been sent to study at a remote monastery.
After some time, the soldiers dumped Kenslir face first onto the ground- hard packed ground that smelled of diesel fuel and rubber tires.
The soldiers conversed excitedly in their native tongue- one Kenslir did not know. They were eventually joined by a smaller group. One of this group nudged Kenslir with his boot.
"Wake up!" the Asian said in heavily accented English.
Kenslir rolled slowly over, onto his back and opened his eyes. The many soldiers around him gripped their rifles tightly, fear in their eyes. All but one.
The man wore a full uniform, with Colonel's rank on his shoulders. He stood stiffly, arrogantly, watching Kenslir with disgust in his narrow eyes.
"You! American! Stand up!"
"American?" Kenslir said in perfect Russian. "Why do you call me that, Comrade?"
The men around the Colonel looked at each other in confusion- unable to speak Russian, they recognized the language of their Slavic allies to the far north.
"You are no Soviet!" The Colonel declared. "Get up!"
Kenslir shrugged and stood slowly, making the movement look as difficult as he could.
"Where are the rest of your men?" The Colonel demanded.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Kenslir said in English.
The Colonel laughed. "We fed the first group of spies to the pigs!"
"Now tell me-where is t
he rest of your team?"
"I'm not much of a team player these days."
The Colonel stepped forward and struck Kenslir across the face with a backhanded blow. "Where is your team?"
Kenslir ignored the strike and smiled. "Wrigley Field."
The Colonel glared and drew a Russian Makarov pistol from a flapped leather holster on his belt. He pressed the barrel to Kenslir's forehead.
"I grow tired of asking this question. Where is your team?"
While ropes might have held him in his previous life, the bindings around Kenslir's wrists now offered him no problem whatsoever. Moving with blinding speed, he reached up in front of him, the ropes snapping loudly as his hands grabbed the hand of the Colonel and his Makarov. Squeezing, he wrenched the gun free of the officer's hand.
The men gathered around all snapped their AK-47s to their soldiers, ready to fire.
"Stop!" a new voice declared loudly in Vietnamese.
Kenslir looked past the Colonel who was making a pained face, his fingers broken from his disarming.
The newcomer was not Vietnamese. Nor was he a soldier. Dressed in bright orange and yellow robes, embroidered in gold thread with dragons and flowers and other symbols, the newcomer was very old- with a wispy beard hanging from his chin and a tall hat matching his robes perched on his head. Given the style of his clothes, Kenslir pegged him as Chinese.
The old Chinese man walked slowly forward, long-nailed hands held before him, slowly moving as though he were feeling something.
"Colonel!" the newcomer said in Mandarin.
The Vietnamese Colonel reached for his pistol with his good hand and Kenslir let him have it. Then he stepped back out of the way and waved to his men to lower their rifles.
"This is Huang Han Rui," The Colonel said. "Master of the elements, servant of the-"
"I speak Mandarin," Kenslir said, interrupting the Colonel. He noticed the NVA officer was clearly deferential to the old robed man, avoiding making eye contact with him.
"What are you?" Huang asked, squinting, but keeping out of arm's reach. He absentmindedly reached up to his chest and began stroking a jade figurine he wore on a gold chain.
"A visitor," Kenslir. "And you?"
Huang reached into a pocket of his robes with a free hand, pulling out a pair of spectacles he perched on his nose.
"Very curious," Huang remarked. "I can only see you with my eyes. And these are very old eyes."
"Tell me, Master Huang, what is a Chinese Shenwu doing in Laos with a Kappa?"
The old man, the shaman named Huang, laughed- cackling to himself with glee.
"You are smarter than these vermin," Huang said, waving with a hand at the assembled soldiers. He ignored the Colonel who clearly took offense.
"I have lived in Laos many, many years. It is my home now- not China."
"So you're joining the Communists? Aren't they the ones that ruined your cushy deal back home to begin with?"
Again, Huang cackled like a madman. "You have me at a disadvantage, gweilo. Tell me your name? What you are? How you defeated my Kappa? I will trade you a story for a story..."
"Master, we have no time-" the Colonel started to say. Without looking at him, Huang raised a hand and gestured quickly. The Colonel grasped his neck in terror as his voice cut out.
"Silence, dog- we are speaking," Huang said.
The Colonel gained his composure and backed away quickly, bowing.
"You first," Kenslir said.
Huang cackled again. "I am Huang Han Rui- former Shenwu of the Imperial Court in the Forbidden City. I fled my homeland when your land helped the peasants topple my Emperor. I lived in peace for many years in this land- until the Japanese came."
Huang spit on the ground. "They dared enter my valley, seeking to enslave me. They brought with them Yongren- my faithful water spirit."
Huang tapped the jade necklace with one long nail. "But no Japanese Onymyodo is a match for Imperial magic. I defeated the cowards and took their spirit for myself. "
"And now you're working for the NVA?"
Huang looked around at the soldiers, standing still, rifles held to their shoulders, aimed at Kenslir. "They are vermin, but their gold is good. They have provided well for me in my waning years."
Huang leaned a bit closer. "Now you, gweilo- what is your story?"
"One more question- how'd you find me?"
Huang smiled. "You crossed a ward I placed around the valley- I don't know how you did it, but you broke the spell and destroyed my ward."
"I'm good at breaking things."
"Now, please, tell me about yourself, gweilo."
"Sorry- I'm not feeling talkative," Kenslir said. Then he sprang straight up, into the air.
The soldiers began firing, but Kenslir was nowhere near their weapons. He had sprung high up and over them, twisting in the air and landing behind them. He stepped in to the closest soldier, grabbing him by the neck as he turned around. With a quick twist of the wrist, he snapped the soldier's neck with ease.
As the remaining soldiers pivoted, moving over in front of Huang protectively, Kenslir pulled the corpse of the soldier he'd just killed in close, using it as a shield. Bullets began to rip into the body as he pulled the AK-47 from the corpse's hand.
Kenslir fired back at the NVA, spraying lead out to his left as he flung the body straight ahead and dove to his right. The body crashed into several NVA, toppling them and forcing Huang to retreat as fast as his spindly legs would carry him.
Charging in, Kenslir attacked the remaining NVA on his right- unleashing kicks and punches in a rapid flurry, ignoring the stray rounds ripping into his body.
He had studied with the Korean masters for many years between missions, operating from their remote monastery to keep the communist forces in North Korea in check. He had learned ancient martial arts that had made him a formidable opponent when he was a just an average man.
Now that supernatural strength flowed through his veins and his body existed in a state of near-petrification, he was something far worse than the NVA had ever expected to encounter.
Bullets ripped into his thickened skin, barely penetrating inhumanly-dense muscles. Tissue torn by the bullets, cells burst by shock waves immediately turned to stone- stopping the bullets and surrounding them with petrified flesh that prevented them from doing much damage.
Blood and lead came from these wounds- the dense flesh somehow mending itself, pushing out the bullets as Kenslir whirled and punched, leapt and kicked. Hands made of bone and sinew as tough as an elephant's crushed ribcages, shattered bones and ended lives wherever they struck.
In just a few seconds- less time than it took for the soldiers to empty their thirty round magazines, Kenslir had killed them all.
He stood still, watching Huang, his body dripping blood- his own and that of the North Vietnamese communists.
Then his blood began to soak back into his skin. Where gray ringed holes in his flesh, his skin mended itself, then returned to normal color.
"Yongren!" Huang screamed, raising his hands, nails pointed upward.
Water seemed to spring from the ground everywhere around the old man- a whirling torrent that looked like the downpour from a hurricane in reverse, climbing from the ground up into the sky.
The column of water surged forward, a tentacle-like extension reaching out of the protective wall swirling around the sorcerer. It slammed into Kenslir with the force of a Tsunami, flashing a bright green as it broke over him.
He held his breath as the water hit him, resisting its force and standing his ground. The water instantly lost its cohesion as it touched him- green light flaring to mark his own nullification of the kappa's control over the water.
As gallons and gallons of water crashed to the ground around him, Kenslir saw the swirling waters protecting the sorcerer shrink in on themselves. Then, like a living thing, they raced out to the body of a fallen NVA soldier. Surrounding the body, the waters lifted it up, enveloping it.
&n
bsp; The skull, just above the temples, separated from the body, flung out of the roiling water, followed a moment later by the brain. Then the body jerked once and planted its feet firmly on the ground.
With a great rushing noise, the mass of water around the body and the sorcerer poured into the open skull of the corpse, impossibly vanishing inside it.
The NVA soldier's body, now possessed by the Kappa, looked up at Kenslir and smiled.
"Kill him!" Huang screamed- a touch of fear tingeing the command.
The possessed corpse charged forward, its skin already turning green as it moved, long claws sprouting from hands and feet as it ran.
By the time it reached Kenslir and tried to slash him with those claws, the re-animated corpse looked very little like a man anymore. Its green skin was rapidly growing scales, its body was swelling and ripping the NVA uniform it wore and the face was contorting into the familiar turtle beak of the elemental's mortal form.
Kenslir dodged the first strike intended for his body and countered with a powerful kick he was sure exploded the intestines in his opponent. But the Kappa was possessed with rage now- it wanted revenge for its defeat earlier. Its second attack could not be dodged.
Kenslir let the blow carry him back, grimacing as half his face was torn off, just below his left eye and down to his chin. Even his gums were cut open and he was sure his jawbone had been scored by a sharp claw tip.
The blow carried him back and he fell down into the mud formed from the water spirit's first attack. He planted his hands into the thick mud and pushed off. As he regained his feet, the moisture in the mud had already been absorbed into his hands- leaving dry dirt caked on in its place.
"My demon will kill you, gweilo! It will feast on your bones!"
Now Kenslir laughed- making the Kappa pause in surprise.
"Demon?" Kenslir taunted. "You're no demon, are you?" Already his face was reforming- gray stone having filled in the gaping hole that his teeth could be seen through.
The Kappa lunged again, but Kenslir was ready. He focused all his strength, channeled all his ki into a vicious uppercut- driving his fist into the solar plexus of the monster.
The blow was meant to push more than it was to smash. The kappa found itself lifted from its clawed feet and flung backwards, spinning head over heels through the air before it crashed down twenty five feet away.