Hunters of a Different Kind

Over the next week I will be posting the first chapters of 3 stories I have been kicking around. Whichever gets the best response will be my project for November Write A Novel month, starting next weekend! Let me know what you think.

Idea 1 of 3,

Hunters of a Different Kind

By, Ashton Macaulay

1. Welcome to the Jungle   

     The jungle smells hot and sweaty. If I can smell us from ten feet away, the animals must see a spotlight. They smell too, but by the time they’re that close someone’s already dead. That’s the first rule, if you didn’t see it coming, it’s already killed you. Surprise is both my friend and my greatest enemy here, and the stench coming from Hathway’s rust bitten canteen is sending our signal out for miles.

     “Can you close that fucking thing?”

     “Look, if I have to be here I’m going to be drunk. If you’ve got a problem tell it to my supervisor.” He chuckles and continues to swallow the foul mixture. I’ve never asked what it is. All I know is that it reddens his cheeks and slows his reflexes. Regardless, he’s one of the best trackers we have, and we don’t have many options.

     “I am your fucking supervisor. Now put that shit away, you’re going to get us all killed.”

     “If you keep talking maybe.” Whispers Catcher from behind me. He’s the shifty sort; face always obscured by the shadow of a low brim hat, face unkempt, secrets hidden deep. He scares me, and that makes me feel lucky to have him with me. The three of us are alone. Well, not really alone, but the only human life for miles. It’s just us, three guns that are larger than they ought to be, and a jungle full of things that would kill us if given a second chance.

     “Remind me what we’re looking for again.”

     “Did you even read the briefing?”

     “No, that’s what I’ve got you for.” Light reflects off of his gold teeth as he smiles and takes another swig from the canteen.

     “We’re looking for a stone door, about six feet tall.”

     “How the fuck is we supposed to see that?”

     “By talking less and looking more.”

     “Oh look at the mighty captain handing down life lessons. Useless prick.” He mutters under his breath. I’m not offended, I’m used to it. Out here there is nothing but the green wall looking back and it does something to you. Back at the base we could all be friends, joking, laughing, out here there’s none of it. I’m the man who gives orders that invariably get people killed. There’s not much option to it. Each mission is more dangerous than the last, but they keep shipping in new recruits.

     I guess we all thought it would be better than sitting to rot in a prison. They don’t sugar coat it. There’s none of that fly your fifty missions and you’re out nonsense. No, if they ship you here, they ship you here to die. There’s no going back, but on the bright side there’s no bars. Perspective is what keeps me going. A person is only so much as their freedom, or at least that’s what we all thought. The jungle heat and the smell of death break everyone eventually.

     “Captain, movement.” Whispers Catcher from behind me. I can hear the soft click as his laser sight pops on.

     “Weapons ready.” Hathway shifts uncomfortably to one knee on the mossy floor, propping up his machine gun as he does. I move to point and pull my rifle snugly to my face. The sight is a friendly reminder that anything in front of it will soon be dead. We have it down to a science.

     “Your turn as bait Cap.” Every encounter we switch. Someone always has to be the one to rustle the bushes and risk contending with what pops out. I move through the tall grass methodically. It’s hard to tell what lies within it. At any moment I could be torn to shreds by a dirt tiger, or dropped on by a grax. It’s not the best position, but it’s my turn and I don’t complain.

     Time slows to a crawl. Every step leads me further into danger, farther away from my team, and closer to the inevitable. I will die out here, I know it, just not today. This becomes my mantra as I pray that each step doesn’t bring with it dismemberment and unyielding pain. It works to a degree, but then the movement starts again.

     Two feet in front of me there is a thicket of vines. The jungle water runs down them like sweat running down my spine. They shift ever so slightly, revealing a small black cavern between them. I see a pair of eyes, beady, hungry, and menacing. I motion behind me, but it’s too late, the vines have spread and the creature is lunging forward.

     The next five seconds are filled with gunfire and nothing else. Explosions ring through my ears like ethereal bass drums, heralding the call of my demise, and then, just as suddenly, they stop. I’ve nearly pissed myself, but I’m intact. I look down between my feet and see the heavily mangled body of my would-be attacker.

     “Well congrats captain, you killed a squirrel.” I turn round and he’s laughing. That’s when the black stinger lashes from the bushes and pushes its way through his stomach. Hot blood sprays over Catcher and the explosions have started again…