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a predator, and these were its hunting grounds. Though it had been following this prey at a great distance, it knew these woods better than any, and nothing could outrun it for long. The only puzzling thing—if it could be called that—was the scent itself. It was . . . unfamiliar.

It was still a kitten by its species’ standards, less than a century old. But it had learned the merit of caution when dealing with the unknown. So, it moved slowly through the darkness, alert for anything out of place.

And as it approached the tree line, it paused. It had come upon yet another unknown.

The creature had no way of understanding what it faced, but the last thing it saw before a blinding explosion were the words: “Front toward enemy.”

 <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Summers shot up at the sound of a loud click, followed by a deafening boom.

“Holy shit!”

The entire forest lit up with one concentrated explosion, as if something had just dropped a miniature sun five hundred yards away.

As his eyes adjusted, he could see trees bent in ways he wouldn’t have thought possible. At the center of the carnage lay a large black creature. Clawed wings folded over a pitch-black hide that only highlighted its long, wormlike head as it clawed at the ground, writhing in pain in a way that reminded Summers of roadkill he’d seen as a child.

Summers didn’t take long to admire the absolutely terrifying thing in front of him. He emptied his gun into its chest.

“Wake the fuck up! We need to kill this thing!”

The creature didn’t recover so much as throw itself at the camp, blood gushing from the shrapnel in its head and side. It was met with gunfire from its left, and as it tried to cover its head with its wings, Summers and Logan unloaded on it. Their fire seemed only to annoy it.

A grenade landed beneath it, but in its already injured state, it couldn’t move fast enough to get away, even if it had known what was coming. As the grenade detonated, the creature lurched to the side and into a tree, crumpling to the ground where it lay, unmoving.

They didn’t stop firing until two minutes later.

Better safe than sorry.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“You’re going to get us all killed, Cortez! Do you really think using all our claymores is necessary?” Cortez started in a mocking tone. “That fucking thing took everything we had, and we still needed to put it down ourselves.”

“I will never question your paranoia or love of explosives ever again,” Summers replied.

“Goddamn right.”

They stood, wide-eyed, in front of the corpse of the creature. It was about as big as the Humvee, with black scales covering the whole of its body. The damn thing looked like a cross between a dragon and a roided-up lion. With just enough alien physiology in its strange, tube-shaped head and worm-like proboscis to ensure that Summers would have nightmares for the rest of his life.

“Asle, I don’t suppose you know if there are more of these things? Or what it is?” Summers looked over at the young girl, who was just as surprised as the rest of them.

“Don’t know,” she muttered.

“I’m no biologist, or zoologist . . .” Logan explained. “I don’t know much about animals, but an ecosystem cannot sustain many things this big—not for long, anyway. I think we’re safe.”

Nowak looked at the creature, then the mostly empty wagon beside the Humvee.

“What do you think about taking this thing with us?”

“I don’t know if we can eat all that, Sarge,” Summers cautioned.

“No, I mean, this is some big mean son of a bitch, right? At least to the locals,” Nowak ventured. “So, if they see that we killed it, they might rightfully assume that we, too, are big, mean sons of bitches. And the scarier we are, the less likely it is we’re going to have someone fuck with us.”

Summers nodded, staring at the easily three-thousand-pound creature. Then he looked to the wagon, whose cow was still idly chewing on some grass, paying no more attention to what had just happened than it would to a passing flock of birds.

“Any ideas on how we get it up there?”

“Same as with anything.” Nowak took out his boot knife, feeling the balance of it in his hand. “Piece by piece.”

Chapter 9: Inn for a Penny

“Smoke up ahead, Sarge,” Summers noted.

“I see it.”

Nowak looked out at the valley ahead. It was noon, and the road had been clear for the last few days. That had changed, however, as the path in front of them was now dotted with signs of campfires. In the distance, they saw small rectangular shapes breaking up the skyline. Summers could only assume they were the walls of the city—which meant it was time to leave the Humvee.

“Hey, I was thinking, shouldn’t we be worried about spreading diseases or something?” Adams thought aloud. “Like with the Native Americans?”

“Eh, people back then weren’t big on hygiene. Also, that shit didn’t start until infected people were getting on ships. We’re probably fine,” Nowak replied.

“If anything, we don’t have protection against whatever kinds of diseases they have. So, don’t get too handsy with the locals,” Summers cautioned.

“Do not shack up with the first elf you meet. I’m serious. It doesn’t end well,” Cortez agreed, giving a passing glance to Adams.

“She’s right. We’re still strangers here. Don’t let your guard down.” Nowak looked in Adams’ direction, as well.

Actually, they were all looking at Adams.

“I sorta feel attacked here,” Adams retorted.

“We’ve all been in your shoes, and we’ve all seen our buddies try to marry the first thing dumb enough to smile at them,” Nowak called back.

“I’m not going—” Adams started, but Cortez cut him off.

“You will. We all know you will.”

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