Reincarnation: A fight for survival

Chapter 4

Wherever he was, he was pretty damn sure it wasn't Vietnam.

So where the Hell am I?

Galen peered over down the side of the tree, packing down the lump in his throat before carefully sweeping his feet over the edge of his perch. Climbing up was one issue, getting down was going to be an outright challenge.

Cycling several deep breaths, the private carefully guided his boots down onto the same points he had used to climb up, every step cautiously placed to ensure he didn't take a tumble down to his death. It'd be a shame to survive a plane crash only to buy it falling off a tree. But considering his earlier troubles coming up, his journey down was making good progress. Only ten feet separated him and the jagged roots jutting from the earth below and he was moving at a brisk pace.

"I can do this," he whispered, "I can-" -snap- "shit."

A lump of bark gave way under his boot, leaving Galen wailing as he hung eight feet from the safety of solid ground. He kicked wildly, beating at the side of the tree with his boots to try and find a spot to dig in. His fingers began stinging as the sharp points of coniferous needles of the branch he clung to sank into them.

"rrr-AHHHHH" he hollered as he finally released the tree.

Training kicked in just as his boots hit the forest floor, his legs collapsing with enough muscle power still pushing back to soften his landing. The only downside was this technique was meant to be done while moving forward without anything in front of you. With his body facing the tree, his helmet smacked against the trunk with a loud c***k and a swirl of stars in his eyes.

"Oww," he groaned as he fell backward, a root jabbing right up into his ribs on landing.

"Ahhhoowww, damn it!" he cursed, flipping over and away.

The only comfort to his current agony was the fact that he was on the ground. His right thigh hurt like Hell, it felt like some hit him on the head with a hammer, and he could swear that somebody stuck a knife in his back, but he was on the ground. That ground likely didn't belong to the country he thought he was in but it at least he was on it.

Groaning aloud and wincing at most movements, Galen mustered the willpower he needed to stand up. Battling the strain of muscle and the weariness of fatigue, he gathered up his pack and hoisted his loaded rifle over his shoulder. For the next few moments he tried to clear his thoughts enough to think of his next move.

That river was a mile or so away and his best guess at the moment was that he was downstream from where he thought he needed to be. There could be fresh water there and even a few fish for him to catch somehow. If he was lucky there'd be a town or a village in some of the clearings that he saw. Fire confirmed the presence of people, and if they had a radio, he could try and contact any US forces in the area...

If he was even in a place that had any US forces.

What if the plane carried him to a new country completely? What if even, he was-?

BANG!

An eruption of birds burst from the tree tops as the gunshot echoed through the forest.

One name passed through Galen's mind the instant he heard that rifle go off.

Michael.

......................................

The Neko woman clung to her tree as thunder shattered the calm over the area. Hairs prickled down her back as she frantically searched the skies for any sign of clouds or lightning. She didn't smell any rain, nor had any dark anvil head formations blown in from any direction. Where had the thunder come from?

Her nerves rattled throughout her body as she leaped to another tree and sunk her claws into its bark as she watched over this curious human who now sprinted through the forest. That great wooden club of his staying pressed close to his side with the metal tip pointing forward. Whatever this thing was, it appeared to be very important to him and it didn't seem like he was interested in leaving it behind. Perhaps she could remove it from his possession while he slept to investigate it for herself or even bring it to her village elders. One of them was very familiar with some of the workings of human society; he may have a clue as what it may be.

Until then, she could only follow the human as he ran full tilt through the forest. Bounding over roots and bushes, bolting past trees and scaring the game away with little regard for them except when he nearly ran them over. Twice did she catch glimpses of deer fleeing the racket he made but not once did he even acknowledge them. It became obvious that a hunt was not on his mind as he ran to where the thunder had clapped.

"Sergeant!" he yelled as he passed by a tree painted with the image of a red claw.

The Neko woman froze as she saw the symbol. What was this human doing?! Did he not know where he was going?!

FOOL! She cursed in her mind, You're entering the territory of the Ra'zorlichs!

Of all the races in her forest and the different tribes and 'nations' that had arisen within and around it, the Ra'zorlichs were among the few who didn't enjoy the company of others. If any of them found this human, they would end him. Not quickly, neither. They were known to be beyond the definitions of the word 'cruel' with any who dared to trespass on their lands. This human would be begging for death by the time they were done, but not if she had something to do about it!

At once the woman began to leap through the trees, bounding from branch to branch with incredible agility. She needed to stop him before his life would be at the mercy of the rogue neko tribe. Using her feline abilities, she was able to easily surpass the human's running along the ground as she went through the trees above him. Despite the increasing racket she made he was still so focused on his path that he didn't see her.

Suddenly the human slowed down, raising that club of his in a peculiar fashion with its wood end braced against his shoulder. Right ahead, something unnatural was caught in the forest canopy. It was one of the wide sheets that the human had used to wrap his dead, only this time it was caught in the highest clutches of a tree with some sort of backpack hanging down from it by several long strands of string.

Below that pack laid the corpse of a Neko. A Ra'zorlich. She could tell by the red claw painted on the shoulder of his black, plate armor. Blood stained his light gray fur, and his sword was still tucked in the sheath attached to his belt. Even from her position in her tree she could see that he was dead.

And there, a few feet from the body, lay yet another human. His clothes were identical to those of the first one as was the strange club lying at his side. The only real difference between the two was that this human didn't wear armor on his head and had a slightly darker skin tone. He was also wounded.

This second human was torn in the thigh with the whole of his right leg bathed in thick crimson. He had a second, longer gouge through his flesh right below where the pant leg had been torn off below the hip. There were a few improvised tourniquets in place to stop the bleeding but if this human did not bandage his wounds properly at once, he would likely die.

The first human broke through the bush with his club initially pointed at the other human. That swiftly changed, however, as the metal end was lowered when he recognized his friend.

"Sergeant! Michael!"

"Private Galen Martin. Son of a bitch... you're late."

"Better late than..." the human froze as he saw his friend's leg, and after a short pause he was dashing to his side. "We need to get ya to a medevac."

"It's just a scratch," Michael shrugged, staying extraordinarily calm at his predicament.

"That's more than a scratch, Michael! We need a medic... I saw a clearing a couple hundred yards away. There's some smoke comin' from there, so it could be a village."

Oh, you poor fool, the neko woman thought.

"And if they have a radio, we could use that to get air support. Get us the Hell out of here."

What is a 'radio'?

Crackling in a bush a few yards off brought the woman's attention away from the humans. Five Ra'zorlich scouts emerged from the brush line a short distance away; but this time they had their blades in hand. And they were ready to slay the beings that killed their pack mate.

.....................................

Galen spun on his heel, bringing his M14 to bear on the five creatures that had just come out of the bush. Their teeth were flashing, light from the setting sun was shining off that heavy armor plating they wore. Like an organized force they spread out and flourished and readied the swords in their clawed hands.

Wait, claws? Fur? Swords? What the Hell?

The private took a double-take on the creatures before him. Never in his life, nor in his job description, did he ever see anything about these... things. Fur covered their bodies from head to toe and distinctly feline ears protruded from the top of their heads. Just the same, long feline tails hung behind their equally cat-like legs. These things were nowhere close to being human; they were more akin to the description of oversized cats walking on two feet.

One thing Galen took notice of right away were the red claws painted on their shoulders, matching the image he had seen on the tree a couple dozen yards up the trail. Dark red loincloths embroidered with that same claw hung off their hips only on the garments it was stitched in black.

"A human!" one growled.

"We told you parasites that none shall pass our territory, human. And now you will pay with your life!"

Galen took a step back as he turned the fire-selector switch of his rifle to the auto setting.

"I am Private Galen Martin, 502ndparachute infantry regiment of the 101st Airborne Division of the United states Army. I don' know who you are, but if you attack me, I ain't gonna hesitate to kill you."

The pack of beasts laughed aloud, "Ahahahaha, a human? Alone? With wounded? AHAHAHAHA HAAAHAAhhhh!!! Human, I will make your death swift for granting me such a hearty laugh."

His gut steeling itself at the sound of their chortling, Galen firmed up his grip on his weapon and breathed steadily to prepare for what came next. "We'll see how that works out for you, kitty cat. I'm not warnin' ya again, back off or I'm gonna kill you!"

Sergeant Michael clutched onto the gash in his leg and chuckled, "Aim for the head. Their dead friend here didn't think I was serious, either, so I think we should teach these pussycats a lesson."