“Got ‘em!” Jacob shouted. He pulled the rifle close to his shoulder, letting his finger caress the trigger.
“Then drop his ass,” Masterson said.
Jacob eased back on the trigger in one smooth motion. The rifle responded, and he watched the man fall back.
“Hit,” Masterson shouted over the noise of the firing. “There’s another just behind him, get on target.”
Jacob pivoted. Finding the next target, he focused on the man. “Got him. On target,” he said, remembering his training.
“Fire,” Masterson said.
Jacob squeezed back the trigger and watched the side of the man’s head vanish in a puff of red. Rounds pounded in the ground ahead of him. Jacob turned away then shifted, searching for the next target: a man running directly at them. Jacob dropped his point of aim, leading the man as he ran. “On target,” he said.
“Drop him.”
Before he could fire again, rounds tore into the man from behind. He watched as the creature’s body contorted and twisted to the ground. Jacob took his eye from the scope and looked into the grassy field below. Men in dark camouflage were running from the trees, rifles up, engaging the remaining others still on their feet. The camouflaged men rushed forward in line, firing rapidly and effectively knocking down the last of the alien invaders. Soon a small dark-green Jeep left the trees with a man standing behind a mounted machine gun. The big gun opened up and swept the field where the last of the Delta resistance remained.
“Hold your fire,” Masterson shouted to the group. Jesse fired several more rounds before his gun fell silent, the barrel belching white smoke. They watched from the high ground as the Canadian patrol exited the forest, killing the remaining creatures below. A man turned and looked up at them, shooting them a mock salute. Masterson fired one back. Jacob sat leaning on his heels and lifted his rifle to his chest, dropping the box magazine and replacing it with a full one. Masterson climbed to his feet and moved away toward the driver of the truck.
Jacob slumped, exhausted, letting the rifle lean against his slack firing arm. He observed the soldiers below emerge from the tree line. They moved among the dead, routinely kicking and rolling over the bodies of the creatures. He wondered how often they did this sort of thing. Is The Darkness really this close to the gates?
Jesse stood and moved next to him, dropping close beside him. He snatched a canteen from his pack and took a long drink before handing it to Jacob.
“That was intense. Is it always like this?” Jesse asked him.
Jacob took a drink from the canteen and used his sleeve to wipe the drops of water from his chin. “What do you mean? The fighting?”
Jesse took the canteen back and replaced the cap. He pulled his machine gun close to him. “Yeah, you’ve done this before, right? I’ve heard some of them talk… they say you’re already hard,” his friend said, laughing.
“I didn’t do shit, Jesse. Most of the time, I was afraid of dying. I just did what I was told,” Jacob answered before looking away.
Jesse bit at his lower lip and looked down at his dirt-covered hands. “Hey, bro, I didn’t mean nothing by it. I’m sorry if I said something out of line.”
Before Jacob could respond, Masterson was back on his feet, shouting at the men to return to the truck. Jesse moved first, leaping to his feet. Then, lending a hand to Jacob, the big man pulled him up with ease. They double-timed it to the rear of the truck and joined the others already aboard. Jacob sat against the tailgate watching Masterson brief a man with a Canadian flag patch on his shoulder who’d climbed up the hill.
The Canadian soldier held out a map. He waved his hand across the landscape, pointing out distant terrain features. Masterson nodded to the man then looked back at the truck. He put his hands on his hips and spit into the tall grass before shaking the soldier’s hand. Masterson nodded his head again and returned to the truck.
The drill sergeant walked past the vehicle’s bed, stopping momentarily to look over the soldiers sitting in the back. He stopped and took a quick head count. He proceeded on then paused, looking directly at Jesse before turning his gaze to Jacob. “Everyone good?” he asked in a tone that was softer than usual.
“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” they responded in unison.
Masterson turned to look back at the Canadians, who were walking down the hill to the dead in the field. “Okay then,” he said, slapping the side of the truck before entering the cab.
The truck roared to life, backing up swiftly and causing Jacob to nearly fall. He pushed his muddy boots against the bed of the truck to steady himself. Leaning back and feeling Jesse pressed in beside him, Jacob looked up at the three other men across from him. Younger than him and Jesse, all three were in their late twenties. Jacob hadn’t gotten to know them, the pace of the training and limited downtime making it nearly impossible.
Jacob watched the men push close together as the truck bounced down the road. They returned through the perimeter gate and followed the fence back to the garrison area. Jacob recognized some of the buildings… the hospital where he was treated, and the gate to the housing area where he knew Laura and Katy were staying. The men watched over the rails of the truck as they passed through the familiar site. The driver didn’t stop; he continued on then turned onto the gravel road that returned them to the recruit training camp.
As they approached, Jacob could see the rest of the recruits formed up on the limestone lot, standing at ease as they waited. The truck drove close and stopped. Masterson and the driver exited,
