Reincarnation: A fight for survival

Chapter 12

"Sergeant, what are you doing?" Galen asked as he moved to catch the box of munitions as she lowered it from the Hercules. When she let the weight off he nearly had a hernia as the weight of what felt to be a hundred pounds of firepower came under his control.

"Everything here is coming with us," Michael answered from inside the plane.

"Coming with us?" the private echoed. "Where? To Mila's camp?"

"Village," she corrected as she lowered down another box, this time ensuring he had it under full control before she let it go.

"That's the plan," Michael answered, though his voice was muffled as he sounded to be fumbling around in the cockpit. "I ain't leaving any of this for some Ra'zorlich bastard to find and hunt us down with."

An uncomfortable feeling drew Galen's attention toward the scar behind the plane. All the sudden he felt like something was watching him from the darkness like when he ventured out into that swath of mutilated trees the first time. Then the private simply shook his head and turned back to the Hercules. Wondering what was going on inside, he made the jump to boost himself up into the door and climbed up into the aircraft.

Just as he had guessed, Michael was in the cockpit lashing an arm rest from the pilot's seat onto the end of a metal pipe to put together a sort of crutch. Mila was picking up another wooden box of supplies, one that rattled with the sound of linked bullets and loaded magazines inside. Without him outside to catch it however, she placed the rifle crate full of ammo crate back down beside to door and went to grab the fourth.

"So what's the plan?" Galen asked, looking to Michael. "Are we going to carry the crates one at a time on mine and Mila's back, all the way to her village?"

"No," she interjected, "I will take Michael back to my people and return with help to carry these in one trip."

The private blinked in surprise. There was an exceptional lack of him involved in that plan. "What am I to do?"

With a sharp jerk on a string, Michael finished the assembly of his crutch and immediately went to stand on his own two feet. Despite the angle that the C-130 was leaning he was remarkably able to keep his balance as he turned to face the young soldier. "You're gonna stay here and guard the supplies until we get back. We're looking at a good two and a half hours round trip, so settle in, soldier."

A depressed sigh escaped Galen, his head dipping as he answered, "Yes, sir."

"Hey."

The private looked up to his sergeant, who had taken a step toward him and planted his free hand on his shoulder. "Cheer up. We're alive, we found a friend, and we're not getting ourselves killed at the hands of the NVA. All things considered, we're doing pretty good."

Hearing that come from someone else other than himself, Galen managed to give a weak grin as he nodded. It didn't make anything any easier but at least it was good to hear. Eight dead men were still trapped here with them, never could their tags be brought home or their bodies be laid to rest in American soil. He didn't even know if there was a way for him and Michael to get back. What kind of closure would their families get? What would happen to his own mother?

Horror flooded his mind as he thought of how she would react to the coming news. For the second time in her life, a knock would come at her door, and when she answered it there would be another officer handing her a note and another flag. Only this time she would be told that it was her boy that wasn't coming home.

A single tear traced Galen's cheek before he managed to wipe it away, hiding the fact that it had even emerged before anyone else could see it.

...

When the last of the four crates were pulled off the C-130, they were dragged out by the firepit and placed into two stacks. Then Michael and Mila gave Galen a quick goodbye and a 'See you soon' before they headed off into the forest. Once again, the Private found himself on his own in the middle of nowhere.

Five minutes passed, then ten.

Galen cooked up a breakfast ration to eat and swapped out the bandage wrapped around his left bicep for a clean one. When he had finished eating, he cleaned his mess kit and then went back to guard duty.

Twenty minutes passed.

Nothing had come through the area other than the odd bird overhead or a curious buck that quickly ran off at the sight of him. When he had seen it enter the clearing, Galen had to wonder if it was an actual deer or just something similar. It had thicker fur, unusually massive antlers, and a slightly longer, bushier tail than what he was used to. Still, its general shape fit the profile of what he had known to be a deer so he just chalked the changes up to the fact that he wasn't on earth.

Welcome to Raska, Private.

Another forty minutes were killed off as Galen stripped his rifle down to its parts and pulled out his cleaning kit. He went through the weapon from end to end, cleaning out what gunk and dirt had built up during his day out in the wild. When he had finished doing that he brought out his grease and ensured all the moving surfaces were properly lubricated before reassembly.

Just as he popped the last piece of his rifle back in place, something, or someone, in the distance unleashed a bird scattering shriek. The soldier immediately went on alert, loading a magazine in his rifle and racking the bolt to hear that satisfying clack of a round sliding into the chamber. When that voice screamed out over the forest a second time, it became quite clear that it was female.

The private gave his rifle's charging handle a forward smack to ensure the bolt was fully seated then took off running. Whoever had screamed was in the opposite direction of the Ra'zorlichs, but also in a different direction than where Mila and Michael had gone. It didn't matter. Twenty rounds of 7.62 millimeter rock 'n roll was loaded into his weapon ready to bring a world of pain down upon whoever was harming that woman.

After sprinting a good forty yards into the trees, the scream came again. This time though, it was followed by desperate pleading in a foreign tongue. Whoever this damsel was, she didn't sound anything like a nekonian. Safety off, Galen charged through a wall of brush and brought his rifle to bear... although he didn't expect to find a monster standing fourteen feet high.

From the back, it seemed somewhat humanoid, although its flabby body was covered in a patchwork of pelts and furs poorly skinned from the unfortunate animals. Its hair was a gnarled mess and so greasy that the oils literally peeled off its scalp. Moss, bugs, and branches covered its body as if the thing had lain down in a swamp for years without moving. The smell alone made Galen nearly choke on his own gag reflex.

And there, within the grasp of this monster's massive hands was a young woman. Frantically kicking and screaming, she fought as hard as she could as the monster raised her high above its head. It's knuckles slowly going white.

"Me gonna squish elvy, make sticky paste," the beast chuckled.

Tears were running down the girl's cheeks as the monster began to squeeze. Her screams became more shrill and agonized as her face slowly turned red from the blood displaced within her.

"Halla!" she cried as she saw him, "Si tetlee neh, halla!"

Rapid thumps in Galen's chest turned to pounding in his ears. This beast was going to kill her!

Unsure of what else to do, he brought the back of the creature's skull into the sights of his rifle and cracked off a round. Hair and thick oils on his scalp exploded to reveal the white of chipped bone underneath. Blood quickly poured into the gash in the skin and the monster roared in pain, loud enough to shake the ground beneath Galen's feet. Next came a yelp as the woman hit the ground, released form the creature's grasp as it turned around with one hand holding the back of its head.

For such a massive body, the giant had tiny eyes. Like two marbles dropped onto a batch of rising dough. Underneath these beady peepers sat a bulbous nose jutting out like a faucet from between two pudgy cheeks. And judging from the deep-set frown arching over its massive forehead, the monster probably wasn't very happy.

"A human? A human hurt Gurple? Bad human! Make Gurple bleed! BAD HUMAN! GURPLE SMASH!"

The earth itself seemed to tremble as Gurple rushed him with his giant fists raised high. In the second before he might've been splattered into a fine paste, the Private braced his rifle against his side. Planting his forward hand on top of the weapon's handguard, he unleashed a burst of automatic fire from the hip until the recoil started to throw him off balance. The brass didn't even hit the ground when he then leaped out of the way of the rampaging monster.

What had to be several tons of blubber and stupid came down with the elegance of a bulldozer on the place Galen had been standing a split-second earlier. Just as the soldier's belly hit the ground, the force of the shaking earth under Gurple tossed him right back up. With his extended air time he went another yard forward to crash face-first right into a bush.

There was a thunderous groan as the monster wept in pain, his sobs echoing deep through the trees and shaking some clean of their leaves. Grumbling himself, the private stood up and pulled a thistle from his uniform and brushed off a couple of leaves from his pants. After sorting himself out, he finally turned to see how effective his attack was.