Chapter 11: MHI Alaska - A Dish Served Cold

Previous chapters:

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Rick led several Hunters along what he hoped was the trail, but the path was impossible to follow in the fog. "Stick together, team. We don't want to get separated."

He could see figures behind him, but there was no response. 

"Guys? Keep it tight; I won't insult you with stay frosty."  Still no response. He stopped and turned around. "Too cold to talk, Hunters? At least say you heard me." But as the shadowy figures drew close to him, they faded from view.

"Dammit, I'm getting too old for this."

Then he heard footsteps from the other direction. A southpaw, he pivoted to his right to keep the muzzle toward the enemy. There was nothing there. Then there were too many somethings there. Safety off. "Identify yourselves!"

There were no sounds except the crackle of the woods in a deep freeze, and footsteps. The fog behind him had a soft, golden glow, but the mist ahead had a dark blue tint. 

As the shapes grew closer, they remained indistinct but got taller. The cold grew more intense, and he was cold enough already.

There was a muffled cry of "Rick? Can you hear us?" It sounded like Sandy, but seemed to come from far away. The light dimmed even more, and Rick had had enough. Those things are bigger than humans. He flipped the safety off and pulled the trigger.

* * * * *

"Jamie? Fellas? Can anyone hear me?" Dusty asked in a stage whisper. He couldn't see much past the end of his rifle, and couldn't even hear the Hunters who had been a few feet away. 

There was no reply.

His world had contracted to a small patch of monochrome grey. The nearby tree trunks looked like indistinct posts, disappearing a few feet above the ground. Even the snow he was lying in looked grey. There were muffled sounds that might have been human-made, but it was impossible to determine the distance. Occasionally, he saw brief pinpoints of red light, but even those vanished as quickly as they appeared.

He shivered, and not just because of the intense cold. The atmosphere felt heavy and malevolent, and - if anything - it was getting colder.

Dusty nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a large branch cracking from the intensely frigid air. Large pieces of frost-covered bark continued to fall from time to time.

Enough of this "where is everybody?" stuff, he thought, and keyed the mic. "Dustpan here. What's going on?" Still no response.

He had just decided to get up and move before hypothermia set in, when someone tripped over his legs with a curse.

"Okay, who found me?" Dusty asked the indistinct shape lying at his feet.

"It's me: Jim." a muffled voice said. "We're supposed to meet up at that big spruce, but I can't find anyone else."

"That should be directly ahead of us, but I lost the path." 

They both pulled their lensatic compasses, but the liquid was frozen; the needles didn't move. "Should we backtrack to see if we can find it again?" 

"No, Jim, I don't think so. Your footprints are already gone."

"So what do we do now? Sit tight, or try to find the rest of the team?"

Suddenly there was a rifle report. Then there was a LOT of gunfire.

* * * * *

Tom heard the shots coming from his left, and dove into a prone position. The ACOG scope revealed nothing, but he kept his FN SCAR shouldered. Then there were several large, dark shapes ahead, and they were way too close ... and clearly not human-shaped. He fired.

The shapes kept getting closer as he emptied one magazine, and then another. 

* * * * *

Dusty and Jim heard one rifle, then a second. 

"Do you see anything, Dusty?"

He pointed to their right. "Naw, but it's coming from over there. That first one was .30-06, I think. That'd be Rick. The second one was ..." 

"It sounded like Tom's new SCAR. It's a .308, isn't it?"

"Something like that, but I think I see what they're shooting at."

"Hey - do you see that?" Then they were both too busy to discuss it.

* * * * *

The snow seemed to grow deeper with each passing step, despite no sign of actual snowfall. Walking was difficult, and the air seemed to be thicker in the direction they wanted to go. It was almost like it was pushing back. 

Gunfire had been heavy but sporadic when they were separated, but tapered off as they got closer together. Finally aware of each other's locations, they were moving from tree to tree in an attempt to keep something ... anything ... between themselves and the large shapes they could all see but not identify.

The only thing they had agreed on is that shooting hadn't made any difference to the dark, shadowy forms which continued to circle their position. And it seemed to be herding them farther into the forest.

TO BE CONTINUED...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own MHI or any of its characters; those are owned and copyright Larry Correia. I only claim the ones I've created. And a BIG h/t to Mr. Correia for creating such a wonderful universe in which to play, and for his kind permission to use his concepts here.

A h/t also to Jenny S., who contributed a couple of crucial ideas to improve this short story and the graphic team patch above. Her help has been invaluable, both here and in my first book.