Ravage

by MacCraw

  “…Okay”, Pack sighed, taking deep breaths, “Okay. Kirk, you said you had some news before we were ambushed?”

  “Alright mates, gather ‘round”, Kirkley said. “When I went to that fort, I found a dead guard who sealed himself in the barracks, and he had written a note before he committed suicide. In his note, he mentioned that there was something down in Italy that would be a remedy to the dog soldiers’ attacks.”

  “Italy?” Samantha scoffed, “Do you have midnight sun madness, Kirkman?”

  “Look, all I’m implying is that there is a remedy to this crisis, and it’s down in Italy”, Kirkley insisted. “Think about it. All of the soldiers flocked down there in trucks.”

  “Still”, said Samantha, “We don’t have any transportation, and Italy’s extremely far away. Add to the fact that there are ferocious packs of furballs with teeth running around in the forests and cities and towns, and we probably won’t make it two miles before we’re all torn apart piece-by-piece.”

  “Samantha”, Kirkley sighed, “Which sounds more appealing: sitting ducks ripe for the slaughter, or moving towards the light at the end of the tunnel?”

  Samantha raised her finger and opened her mouth to try and object, but she couldn’t find it within her to do so. “Fine, looks like we’ve got no choice.”

  …

  The most important step for Kirkley and the others was to pack up and salvage whatever gear they could, and whatever they needed. Samantha discarded her MP5 magazines, knowing they would be entirely useless without a rifle to load them in. As Kirkley loaded his carryall backpack with as many supplies as he could, Pack and Poet spent time going through the ammunition, checking the amount of bullets and the amount of magazines and from there trying to lighten their load.

  “Alright, lads and ladies”, Kirkley announced, “What’s our stock?”

  “Your rifle has 6 good magazines, stuffed with ammo”, said Captain Pack. “My rifle has 3 magazines, Poet’s has 3, and that SPAS-15 you got hasn’t fired off a single round.”

  “We’re good on ammunition, then”, said Kirkley. “Samantha, what do we have as far as consumables?”

  “Six cans of edible food, two full bottles of water, and several cans of soft drinks. As far as medical supplies go, we’ve got some morphine injectors, an epi-pen, couple o’ bandages… that’s about it.”

  “Alright, we’ve scrounged everything useful. Get ready to move out in ten minutes”, Kirkley announced. “We’ve got to get some ground covered as soon as possible, because the wolves know our position, and they’re probably hungry for seconds. Samantha, grab the shotgun.”

  …

  Ten minutes had passed, and Kirkley, Poet, Samantha and Pack were all geared up, their firearms as fully loaded as their backpacks. They were all ready to set off towards Italy, to set off towards salvation. But something kept them anchored to their improvised home. Not even bold, gung-ho Kirkley could find himself moving more than 15 yards from the team’s bunker. It was a fear of setting foot in the dark forest, where the packs of wild wolf men ran rampant. Kirkley and the group stood vigilant, just staring off into the mist that shrouded the lower levels of the forest floor. Their legs were as solid and immobile as the tree trunks, and they wouldn’t budge.

  Pack finally spoke out. “So, are we all going to move, or just stand here like shooting range targets?”

  “Pack”, said Samantha, “We’re all afraid, because those things are prowling around, and they’re probably-”

  A long, drawn-out howl echoed through the darkness, and it sounded close. The team immediately readied their weapons and aimed down their sights, ready to pour a frenzy of bullets and pellets into the dog soldiers. Seconds later, a 7-foot wolf-like creature with a long snout, solid black eyes, grey fur, and teeth coated in a revolting mixture of blood and saliva came sprinting out of the mist, ferociously sprinting towards Kirkley. Kirkley aimed for the beast’s head, and squeezed the trigger, furiously spitting bullets at the dog soldier. The wolf man reeled back in pain, scratching at its bloody and bruised face. As the survivors continued suppressing the wounded wolf man, a second howl was heard, and a third one quickly followed the second.

  “There’s more of ‘em!” Kirkley shouted, “Move for the tree line!”

  With the first dog soldier down on its knees, Kirkley firmly kicked it in the snout, leaving it to whimper and howl in agony before rejoining his comrades. More dogs came running out into the open, and the squad had to turn around to fire on them. The thundering crackling noise of the G3 battle rifle wielded by Captain Pack was perhaps the most distinguishable sound amidst all of the gunfire, howling, shouting, and roaring. After several shots, Pack’s rifle clicked, and he emptied the depleted magazine before quickly slamming a fresh new one in and cocking his weapon. As Pack engaged a wolf 10 yards away, Samantha went trigger-happy on her SPAS-15, firing a frenzied swarm of buckshot pellets mixed with slug rounds. This combination of ammunition types were completely devastating to the dog soldier she fired upon, causing it to drop down to the ground to the point where Samantha questioned whether or not it was dying from its injuries.

  As Pack and Samantha provided covering fire, Poet and Kirkley sprinted further into the forest, glancing back every so often to make sure their comrades hadn’t fallen. After running a quarter of a mile from the old bunkers, the team regrouped next to a cluster of pine trees, and sat down on a collapsed log to regain their breath.

  “Are they still out there?” Kirkley asked.

  “Well, we drove ‘em back”, said Captain Pack, “They’re still out there, but they’re keeping their distance; staying within the tree line, probably waiting to launch an attack as soon as their wounds are healed.”

  “Good enough for me”, Kirkley replied.

  “So what now, chief?” Samantha questioned.

  “Our plan hasn’t deviated at all”, said Kirkley. “We need to keep heading south. We need to get an edge over the dog soldiers, and apparently there’s salvation in Italy. For anyone who is a giant pussy carrying a rifle, I’m sorry to inform you that we can’t head back the way we just came, because the wolf pack’s in our way. No turning back now.”

  …

  The quartet of intrepid survivors continued dragging themselves through what seemed like hell: a bleak, endless labyrinth of tall trees, where demonic dog soldiers were poised and ready to finish off their prey. Still, in a relationship of predator and prey, the prey put its good foot down firmly, ready to fight the fear and the predator that caused it. Kirkley and his friends looked around as they marched downhill, taking note of all of the dogs around them, just penitently studying their prey and waiting for the right time to strike. They’d already received an unhealthy dosage of gunfire, and they knew what the death-sticks the humans carried were capable of.

  “They’re still out there”, Pack noted, watching a particular dog with a missing eye and scars on its snout.

  “Do not let your guard down”, Kirkley urged. “They’re waiting for us to become distracted, and they’re going to attack from the rear the moment we let our guard down.”

  “How do you know, Kirkley?” Pack asked doubtfully.

  “It’s what I or anybody else who thinks tactically would do.”

  A howl was heard from further down the mountain. “Ohhh shit…” Samantha shivered.

  The pack that was hunting us down responded to the first howl with one of their own. Almost immediately everybody realized that the two different packs of wolves were going to link together and crush the humans.

  “I’ll provide covering fire! GO!” Pack shouted. His rifle began loudly firing in short automatic bursts, with the sounds of the bullet casings hitting the forest floor adding flourishing bursts of sounds in the orchestra of gunfire and choral howling. The team broke into a sprint downhill, their movement speed being dictated by how heavily the wolf men were breathing in their determined struggle to catch up with the humans and slaughter them mercilessly.

  Poet
abruptly stopped as she ran, and turn around. “Poet!” Kirkley shouted, “What are you doing, mate?!”

  Poet’s rifle answered Kirkley’s question. The sniper rifle fired a loud, powerful shot that went straight and cleanly through both eyes of a single wolf man, destroying its eyes and permanently blinding it, and from the look of it, possibly killing it. It fell to the ground and didn’t move, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had been killed. Perhaps it had been knocked unconscious, but this wasn't the time for a thorough analysis.

  “Nice shot, Poet!” Samantha shouted, patting her friend on the shoulder. “Oh, more hairballs! Run for it!”

  Samantha, Poet and Kirkley continued running down the mountain, trying to distance themselves from the dog soldiers as Captain Pack held them back. Every so often, Kirkley would look back to see if the captain was still in sight; Kirkley wasn’t going to lose two comrades in one eternal eclipse cycle.

  Kirkley heard the clanking sound of Samantha’s shotgun and the loud boom and cycling click of Poet’s sniper rifle, and looking ahead, his worse fears were confirmed: the dog soldiers down the hill had launched their attack on the team, so now they were completely exposed; trapped on a hillside, their ammunition slowly dwindling down, and surrounded on all sides by wolves who were able to get back up and go right for them even after being filled with lead.

  “Back-to-back, lads!” Kirkley shouted.

  The quartet of survivors slowly backed into the open together, back-to-back. The humans stopped firing, and the dog soldiers stopped attacking. With their weapons at the ready, the humans surveyed the broken ring of wolf men encircling them. They studied their attackers, which outnumbered them 2-1. A large white wolf, with scars on its chest and snout, seemed to be the alpha male, and its wolf pack subordinate was a dog soldier with a missing eye and bloody stains pouring down its fur like streams of tears. The other wolves had additional scars and markings, from slashes and cuts to bruises and bullet holes. The gauntlet run had now become a standoff, with both the humans and the beasts hesitant to strike first.

  “Flashbang targets at 11 o’clock, 2 o’clock, and 6 o’clock positions”, Pack murmured. Kirkley slowly reached into his satchel, digging through his items without taking his eyes off of the white wolf man. The longer he took searching, the deeper and more horrifyingly the dog soldiers growled. Kirkley retrieved three flashbangs, carefully handing one to Samantha and one to Pack.

  “On three…”

  The dog soldiers took a step forwards, getting ready to finish the humans off.

  “One…”

  The dogs flared their monstrous, blood-stained teeth.

  “Two…”

  The wolf men howled triumphantly.

  “THREE!”

  The humans pulled the pins on their grenades, and pitched them at the dog soldiers with all of their strength. The humans ducked down and covered their ears as the extremely loud, blinding flashbang grenades detonated, painfully stunning the dog soldiers. When their vision had refocused, Pack, Samantha and Kirkley rose to their feet, slowly looking around. Sure enough, the flash grenades worked with exceptional success. The dog soldiers were crippled and in agony, definitely not in any condition to attack the humans, not for a little while, at least.

  “Nice move, lads”, Kirkley said, “Where’s- oh, no.”

  Poet was on the ground, not moving. Kirkley dove to his knees, quickly checking for a pulse. Fortunately, she was still alive, though she was most certainly unconscious.

  “What happened to Poet?” Samantha asked with concern in her voice.

  “She’s got a concussion. It’s not too serious, though. She’ll be alright, but she’s gonna have to find somewhere to get some rest and recover from her injury”, said Kirkley.

  “Where, man?” Samantha asked skeptically, “We’re completely exposed out here. We don’t know how far the nearest town is, if such a thing is near.”

  “We have to try”, Kirkley urged. “We were strong with five members, but then Terry was abducted. If we leave Poet to die – which, of course, is completely unethical – then we seal our own fates, because with fewer members, we become more vulnerable. Samantha, you get to carry her.”

  “Whatever we’re going to do”, Pack remarked, gesturing to the twitching wolf men, “We’d better hurry, before our furry friends wake up and kill us all.”

  …

  Kirkley and Pack were on point, slowly surveying the woods ahead with their weapons readied, as Samantha carried the still-unconscious Poet over her shoulder, like somebody carrying a dead body. They had all been marching for 10 hours, eager to put as much distance between the wolves – which, by now were probably fully recovered and stalking the humans – and themselves as possible.

  “Samantha, how are you holding up?” Kirkley asked.

  “I’m surprised I’m not falling apart”, Samantha replied. “For a slender sniper, Poet weights a metric tonne.” Pack and Kirkley chortled in amusement until Pack’s eyebrows perked up.

  “Oy, lads!” Pack shouted, “I found something you might find interesting.”

  Pack pointed through the trees, where a small farmhouse sat out in a clearing, seemingly derelict and abandoned. The farmhouse was falling apart; numerous roof tiles had fallen off, and were sitting in small piles around the house, vines and weeds had grown all over the house, and windows were either smeared, broken or both.

  “Any survivors or wolves in sight, Captain Pack?” Samantha asked.

  “Negative”, Pack replied. “No smoke coming from the chimney, no sign of activity. The lights are on, however.”

  “It’s worth investigating”, said Kirkley. “Samantha, lay low with Poet. Pack, temporarily swap weapons with Samantha, so she’ll have more range to cover us, and so you’ll be more formidable in the tight quarters.” Samantha gently propped Poet up against a tree as she relinquished her shotgun and tossed it to Pack. Concurrently, Pack handed Samantha his battle rifle, as well as a spare magazine for it.

  Pack and Kirkley slowly left the cover of the forest, carefully treading across the field of dead grass as if it were a minefield. It was a small journey that took about 30 seconds, but for the pair it felt more like 30 minutes. The two men stacked up against the front door, their weapons ready, and on a silent 3-2-1, Kirkley flung the door open as Pack stormed inside.

  “Kirkley, take the upstairs”, Pack ordered, “I’ll finish sweeping down here.”

  Kirkley walked up the stairs, which loudly creaked and groaned with each step he took. The journey upstairs was just as tense as the trek to the house itself. Kirkley made it to the top, and looked down the hallway, which had three doors: one at the very end of the hallway, most likely a bathroom or a bedroom, and two to Kirkley’s right. Before Kirkley had a chance to properly scout out the rooms, Pack shouted his name from downstairs.

  Kirkley ran back down the stairs, nearly tripping himself, but managed to meet back up with Captain Pack. “What’s wro- ohhh… Jesus Christ…”

  Kirkley was struck by a sudden rising wave of extreme nausea as he stared at all of the dead bodies. A group of five people, most likely the residents of the little farmhouse, had been almost completely torn apart to the point where it was hard to tell that they were humans, not butchered pigs.

  “Those damn dogs!” Kirkley snarled, kicking a pot in frustration. The kitchen pot banged loudly as it rattled around.

  “Jesus Christ, man!” Pack shouted angrily, “Do you want to attract every wolf from here to London?”

  After chiding Kirkley for his emotional outburst, Captain Pack went to the window and gave the all-clear signal to Samantha, who nodded in response. Samantha carried Poet and the rest of the party’s supplies into the house, and set Poet down on the couch.

  “So, what’s the situation?” asked Samantha.

  “Nobody’s home- well actually, they are”, Kirkley sighed, gesturing down to the decaying corpses of the farmhouse inhabitants. “The house is two floors, with the upstairs containing three
rooms; none of which I’ve been able to properly investigate. Downstairs where we are has a kitchen, a dining room, and a closet, which seems to be locked.”

  “I’m going to check in the fridge”, said Pack, “In case there’s any canned food or something.”

  “Don’t drink the milk if there is any”, Kirkley added, “And check the dates. We’re dealing with dog soldiers, and diarrhea and food poisoning shouldn’t be another problem to have to contend with. Samantha, you go check upstairs. I’ll stay down here and look after Poet.”

  “Oh, and Samantha”, Pack commented, “Here’s your SPAS.”

  “Did you fire off any shots?”

  “Negative. Magazine’s fully loaded, haven’t fired off a single round.”

  Samantha took her trusty shotgun and bluntly walked up the stairs, not using the same caution and discretion that Kirkley had used. Samantha looked down the corridor, which was still vacant and devoid of any activity. Samantha opened the first door to her right, which was a bedroom. Judging from the posters and bedspread, Samantha deduced that it belonged to the deceased teenager among the bodies Kirkley had discovered. Samantha silently nodded in respect for the dead, and shut the door.

  The second room was a bathroom with a window behind and above the toilet tank cover, so in addition to providing lighting for the bathroom, it could potentially serve as an excellent sniping spot. Hopefully, Poet could recover soon, because she could hold off the wolves for as long as the ammunition held out.

  Samantha slowly opened the door into the third and final room, which seemed to be a doorway into a room with a doorway and wall into another room, bringing the room count up to four total. The first of the two rooms was a large, spacious bedroom containing a king-sized bed with olive covers, and a record player that was still playing the same classical tune. Samantha opened the second door, which was another bedroom, though this one seemed more like a stuffed closet than a bedroom. A bunkbed was the only way of telling that this hoarder’s den was a bedroom.