Saurians Page 16

“Look,” Blue touched Balletore's sleeve and knelt to the ground. “The prints are faint but they are definitely human. Unless there is an animal here that wears combat boots.”

  Balletore dropped and looked in the direction the tracks led. “You've a good eye Karl.”

  “Must be my Lacota blood,” he smiled.

  Donaldson re-emerged from Saucer Eight. “Nobody home. Looks like there hasn't been in a while.”

  “We follow the tracks then,” Balletore pointed.

  “That we do Doctor,” Rawlings took the lead.

  “I feel as if I'm in a fifties B sci-fi movie,” Molendez took up pace next to Donaldson.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I expect to find the Fire Maidens of Atlantis or something. We've all got guns and we're exploring a new world. This isn't very advanced.”

  “We're here looking for a missing crew. What would you have us do?”

  “Go blindly on, innocently accepting anything we see,” Molendez gave Donaldson a loaded grin.

  The group broke into the brush. They followed a natural trail, broken brush showing them the way and an occasional footprint letting them know they were on the right track. They came to a small dry wash with walls about two meters high. The ground was soft dirt and bore many footprints. Rawlings stopped and squatted.

  “Look,” Blue pointed. It was a patch of cloth partially buried in the sand. Blue gingerly walked about the perimeter of the small dirt clearing, hugging close to the wall of the wash, and pulled the cloth out of the sand. It had been ripped and had the brown stains of dried blood.

  “Looks like you animal theory was right, Sergeant,” Rawlings looked at Molendez.

  “Eaten?” Murray asked.

  “Maybe not,” Blue said and walked to the end of the wash. He scouted about the ground and then stuck his head up again. “I've found some other tracks.”

  They followed him, trailing these new tracks only they were different. They weren't from the men of saucer eight.

  “Looks like an animal,” Wong said. “Not biped, probably quad with a missing leg. It's hard to tell. There may be more than one.”

  “They're in single file,” Bone said. “These things aren't animals. They're walking in fucking single file.”

  “Animals can walk in single file,” Wong said standing to face Bone.

  “Wolves don't.” He walked off the path a few feet. “They're the only animals that hunt in packs, them and hyenas and hyenas don't.” He looked around nervously. “Fucking herd animals don't walk in single file.”

  “You're saying we're dealing with something intelligent here?” Murray said and unslung his carbine.

  “Keep you shit together,” Rawlings commanded. The men stopped. “We are here to do a job. We're going to do it no matter what we find. You dip-shits are the elite. Remember?”

  “Yes, major,” Bone said and began walking in the direction of the trail.

  Thick bronze-browned skin covered its body. It moved silently, its partner next to it. They crouched low behind the ridge and watched the strange beasts travel in their group. Beasts that spat grunting noises at each other and moved in patterns of shifting dominance. It gave the call, squealing high and long giving the announcement that more of the strange animals have come.

  Fourteen nineteen flashed across Rawlings' watch. He pressed the counter, it had been an hour since they left the saucer. The trail didn't waver but the terrain they had entered and changed, it grew less grass and thicker brush. Rawlings thought the land looked familiar, the vegetation was abnormally Earth-like. He stopped and noticed the group fall out to rest.

  “Any ideas?” Bone handed Rawlings a canteen.

  “If these things are intelligent,” Rawlings spoke softly, “this probably leads to their camp.”

  “That would be something, wouldn't it?” Bone grinned.

  “What?” Rawlings looked to the sky, “finding intelligent life? We already know it's out there.”

  “Why didn't the Pyrinni know these things were here?” Bone asked.

  “Maybe they did,” Wong stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. “Maybe they just didn't want to tell us.”

  A high whistling sound attracted their attention. Bone jerked as something hit the back of his right thigh. He looked down and saw two prongs sticking out from his leg. The whole unit looked to be circular, much like a throwing star, only very larger. One spike was inside his thigh. He reached down to grab it and the other spike sliced his hand.

  The rest of the group fell to the ground. Bone fell over sideways and looked up.

  “It came from that direction,” he pointed. The men moved themselves to get their carbines pointed that direction. Murray pulled the pack off his back and crawled over to Bone.

  “It doesn't hurt Paul,” he said.

  “It will. Give it time.” Murray opened the pack and produced a bandage and alcohol wash.

  “Careful, the blades are sharp,” Bone showed him his hand. Murray wrapped a bandage around his hand and tied it off. He then pulled a pair of small pliers from his pack and grabbed one of the blades.

  “It will start to hurt now,” he said and pulled. Bone started to jerk but it was out.

  Murray poured alcohol over the wound, flushing it with the blood. He pressed it to get it to bleed freer. Bone yelled.

  “I can't see them,” Horace said. “I'm going to move back and watch our flank. He rose to his feet and ran in a low crouch to a clump of trees.

  Murray took an aerosol and sprayed it onto Bone's wound. The blood congealed and a glossy sheen covered it. He then wrapped it in a thick white pad and tied it off.

  “You're right,” Bone said between clenched teeth. “It hurts now.”

  Murray pulled out the morphine and began to prepare a shot.

  “No,” Rawlings said crawling over to them. “Don't drug him yet.”

  Bone's eyes grew wide. Rawlings turned and saw a creature that made his breath stop. The thing stood about nine feet tall by Rawlings' estimation and had three legs, two in the front and one in the rear. It had a man's torso, only much longer than it should have been, with long arms, human like arms. The head was large, larger than any person, and it had a heavy beak the same color as the dark leather color of its skin. Around its belly it wore a thick girdle of worked leather. In its left hand it had an axe-like weapon. The creature was hopping, using only its rear leg. It would leap, the rear leg behind it, as if flew through the air it would bring the rear leg forward and land on it, rotating its weight and then leaping again. It held its two front legs folded under itself. The thing landed, putting both front legs out in front of itself and stopped on a dime about thirty meters from the group. It swung its right arm in a wide shoulder swing and then leaped to the side.

  The whistling sound sped by Rawlings and tore across Wong's left upper arm. Wong looked down at his torn sleeve. It wasn't a serious wound but enough to stun him and threaten to send him into shock.

  Molendez rose to his knees and opened up with his carbine on full automatic. His rounds tore through the creature's torso while it was in mid-leap. It fell to the ground in a heap.

  Blue saw another creature on the opposite side of them. He was about to say something, the weapon fire drowning out his voice, and the whistle of the thrown weapon that struck him in the center of his forehead.

  Balletore saw Blue get hit and pulled him down onto his back. Rawlings took a kneeling stance and fired. His shots tearing up tufts of dirt where the creature had been. While he fired another whistler weapon tore a line across his right shoulder. He stopped and spun, unable to see anything.

  “I think we know what happened to the crew of the Eight,” Molendez put another magazine into his weapon and worked the bolt.

  “Yeah,” Rawlings said. “Walt,” he yelled, “we're going to bug-out. Get back and here.”

  Donaldson saw them. There were a lot. They hopped. He yelled and fired his carbine. The body of the creature fell limp among them. Others
leaped overhead and swung down with their axes as they passed. Molendez spun and fired at one, dropping it. Another flew by and ran his blade across the side of Molendez's head. He spun with the deep slash and fell, unmoving.

  Donaldson turned and fired, the handgun exploding like a cannon in the thinner air. His magnum round hit the thing in the back as it leaped away. It fell, scrambled and tried to crawl away. Donaldson fired again.

  Bone leaped up and caught one as it flew by. He grabbed it and spun his body, throwing the entire creature for about ten meters. It fell and rolled over, getting back onto its third leg. Bone fell back down to his knees and grabbed his carbine. Fire came from the clump of trees and the creature fell.

  Murray dove onto Molendez's body. His breathing was coming softly as blood poured from his skull and turned the dirt to mud.

  “He dead?” Rawlings replaced his magazine.

  “Not yet, but he might be. We need an evac hospital.”

  “Karl's dead,” Balletore said. “What could the other crew had done to get them this angry?”

  “It would take over an hour to get another ship here,” Bone said.

  “It takes an hour to get back to our ship.” Mallowe looked around nervously. “We may not even be able to call, the planet's probably facing the wrong way.”

  Murray worked frantically. He sewed some quick sutures and then sprayed the aerosol onto his wound. The bleeding stopped. Molendez took another heave and then stopped breathing. Murray rolled him over and began mouth-to-mouth.

  “Paul,” Donaldson said grabbing his shoulder. “Let him go. He's hurt too bad.”

  “Fuck you.” Murray began pumping his chest.

  “Paul,” Donaldson grabbed him, pulling him off Molendez's body. “Take care of the wounded.” He looked him directly in the eyes. He saw the pain, he felt the pain.

  “Yes, sir,” he said and went to Wong.

  Horace watched the area closely. He knew more were out there. They were whittling them down, no matter how many of their own it took. He grinned. He felt as if he were back in the Indian Wars. The terrain wasn't too different, just different people. And these were truly savages, no after-guilt here. These things were uglier then hell and aggressive. Gorgeous planet like this one shouldn't be left to these things. He put a cigar in his mouth.

  Something moved behind him. He spun with his carbine, bringing it up. The blade struck the weapon, the strange metal imbedding itself into the barrel. Horace kicked the thing in the soft part between its three legs. The creature stumbled. Horace drew his survival knife and swung a quick stroke, imbedding it to the hilt in the creature's ribs just below the left arm.

  With a powerful swing from its right arm it struck Horace across the face, its claws tearing three lines down his cheek. Horace stumbled back and then blocked as the thing tried to kick it. He was amazed as how fast he was, and how strong he felt, it’s like he got twenty years back just by landing on this rock. He grabbed the thing’s leg and spun, falling back onto his heels, and threw it into the tree.

  Horace took the time to light his cigar while the creature climbed back to its feet. He bent down and scooped up its axe. The creature clicked and hissed something at Horace and then pulled the knife out of its ribs. Deep blue blood flowed freely from the opened wound. The creature hissed and whistled something again and stepped closer, holding its left arm down tight to its body it spun the knife and then held it, blade pointing down, edge out.

  “You fuckers have them too, huh,” Horace took a two handed grip on the axe.

  The creature feinted, Horace stepping into it and swung the axe. The creature used the knife to deflect the blade of the axe and then swung down, across Horace's torso and back, attempting to impale him the same place he had stuck it. The blade glided off Horace's vest. He crumpled over as the knife blade pushed into his ribs, not penetrating the vest but painful nevertheless. He struck the creature atop its head with his elbow, an action that sent shivers of pain up his arm as it glanced off the bony top of the things head. The creature spun on its left front leg and kick Horace in the small of his back with its heavy rear one.

  Horace fell to the ground, but swung backward with the axe. The blade caught the creature across the ankle of its right front leg. It stumbled back while Horace rolled onto his feet. The cigar was no longer in his mouth and he wasn't smiling anymore.

  The creature clicked something and lunged. Horace jerked back and swung. The creature changed directions, checked the swing of the axe with Horace's survival knife and struck him across the face with this left hand.

  Horace yelled as the knife blade cut into his forearm and made him drop the axe. Horace slid onto his back as the creature attempted to drive the knife into his face. Horace grabbed the creature's right arm and held tightly. With his other and he clenched the creature's throat. It opened the beak, razor sharp edges gnashed inches from Horace's face. He smelled horrid breath, the breath of a carnivore.

  Donaldson was stalking his way over to the brush where Horace had gone. He held the carbine gently in his hands. He saw Horace fighting with the monster. He also saw another monster watching from a short distance away. Donaldson raised the carbine and took aim at the creature as it descended onto Horace and forced him to the ground.

  A whistling sound came to him first. He ducked and swung the carbine in a defensive jerk. The creature was on top of him, swinging the axe across Donaldson's midsection and knocking him to the ground with the knees of its two front legs. The blade scratched across Donaldson's vest as his breath was forced out of his body. He looked up at the thing as it raised the axe above its head. In one fluid motion Donaldson drew his revolver and shot the thing it its lower abdomen.

  Blue blood exploded as the bullet blew out through the creature’s back. The force of the muzzle blast blew the thing back and Donaldson fired again, hitting it in the center of its chest. The monster fell.

  He rose to his knees, lightheaded and dizzy from the blow, and took a two handed shooting stance. He cocked the hammer back, controlled his breathing and fired once. The round tore through the side of the creature's head. The impact of the magnum round threw the body off of Horace. Horace rolled over, grabbed his knife and while he straddled the creature’s body drove the knife into the center of its chest. His breath came in heavy rasps. He felt reeling from the lack of air.

  “Come on, First Sergeant,” Donaldson yelled as he picked up his carbine, “move your ass.”

  Horace picked up his carbine and the things axe. He jogged back to the group and fell to his haunches. Bone handed him a canteen and drank gingerly.

  Murray went to him but Horace waved him away. “I’m not hurt.”

  “That's fine,” Rawlings said. “We've got two dead men and we need to get back to our ship.”

  “I can walk okay,” Bone said.

  “We know they will attack us without warning,” Wong said. “We know they are intelligent.”

  “Fuckin' A,” Horace held out the axe. “These goddamned things love to fight.”

  “If we can keep aware we can make it back to the ship,” Donaldson said.

  “The thin air is getting me,” Horace gasped trying vainly to control his breathing.

  “We can't stay here,” Mallowe said. “We have to move before more come.”

  “I can give everyone some stimulants,” Murray said as he pulled a pill bottle from his pack. “That'll help us.” He handed out the pills and everyone took them.

  Bone picked up Molendez's body and rested it across his shoulders. Balletore and Wong went to grab Blue.

  “I can get him too,” Bone said. “I'm a lot stronger here.” He squatted down and lifted up Blue's body like nothing.

  “Here,” Rawlings handed Balletore a carbine. “You better use this.”

  “I'm afraid I don't know how, Major,” Balletore smiled. “I'm a scientist and never even touched one of those things before.”

  “I have,” Wong grabbed one and began walking.

  “B
ill,” Rawlings said, “you take the front, Donaldson take the back.”

  They worked their way back, through the brush listening for the tell-tale whistle. They made their way to the wash and stopped.

  “I'll work my way up the ridge there and watch,” Horace said. “If they're there you guys will definitely hear it.”

  “I'll go with you,” Donaldson said, “don't go alone.”

  “We'll wait for your signal,” Rawlings said exhaustion sweeping over him.

  “Here,” Horace handed Rawlings a head-set radio. “Its short range but we can talk.”

  “Why didn't you hand these out to begin with?” Rawlings questioned, agitation sweeping into his voice.

  “It's not procedure and you didn't order it,” he said. “We were all together. You want it done from now on I'll do it.” He turned and began hiking up to the ridge of the wash.

  He and Donaldson moved quietly until they were on the top of the ridge. They could see the entire wash from their vantage point. The terrain was rocky and rough. They more climbed over it than walked.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” Horace said. “I owe you.”

  “No you don't.”

  “I'm glad you're not a pacifist.”

  “I'm not a pacifist, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir,” he dropped to a crouch and pointed. “Look.” Horace pointed. They rose to a vantage point where they could see the saucers. A large group of the tri-ped creatures was mingling about them.

  “Major,” Horace spoke into his mouthpiece. “These aliens are swarmed over both saucers, like they're having a goddamned convention.”

  “We're the aliens,” Donaldson whispered.

  “We stuck Sergeant?” Rawlings' voice asked.

  “Yes, sir, we are standard issue, one each, stuck. I count about twenty. I believe these things would certainly fuck us up big, sir.”

  “Enough Sergeant,” Rawlings' voice was edged. “We're going to take cover here on the outside of the wash. You keep watch and tell us what's happening.”

  “I could call sir,” Horace said.

  “Call home?” came across the radio.

  “Yes sir, I've a transmitter and the saucer has a relay.”