Jungle Struck, part four
In the morning, when all three men awoke, Greg was fine, with nothing more then a scar on his palm. He told Malcolm, "Man I was sooooo sick last night, I don't know what I ate...""I wouldn't worry to much, it was probably just your body getting used to the new surroundings and types of food, possibly an alergic reaction. What ever it was, I'd be careful if I was you. You don't want to have an outbreak like that again, especially if the next one proves fatal."
"Yessir"
They decided that they would go back to the secluded pool and fish. They conversed freely on the way to their pool. Greg was telling them,
"I have a baby back at home, six months old, blonde hair and blue eyes...he looks like an angel" As he said this he began to tear.
"Don't worry, you'll see your baby boy again, if not sooner, then later."
They didn't talk much for the rest of that day because they were all thinking of home. They all had their personal mind barriers around them. Nobody intruded on each other either, the three men respected the silence until nightfall.
As they were eating their Felduhnost, they heard an odd gurgling sound, and suddenly a large figure glided from a tree to a spot in thier vicinity and let out an earsplitting screech. Greg roared and pulled out his assault rifle, he let loose four rounds, which did seemingly nothing. He switched to shredder rounds and loosed the rest of the clip. As the bullets pinged off the rock hard muscle of the beast, Malcolm was climbing into the cockpit of their ruined plane. As part of it's defense mechanisms, it had four fifty millimeter mini cannons in various locations around the armor. He prayed that they could still be activated. Greg kept firing, wasting his rounds and the beast slowly advanced against the hailing of 50 calibur rounds. Once his ammo count read zero he threw the gun at the beast, and turn and ran. Just as he turned Malcolm activated the mini cannons and tore the beast apart in a storm of gore.
Severly shaken, the three men sat around their campfire, murmuring oaths and swearing silently. Malcolm was first to speak, "We were lucky, the cannons shouldn't have started in the first place. These planes have a fail safe, after a crash the plane self destructs..."
Greg replied with borderline animosity, "You mean to say we've been camping next to a plane that could explode at any moment?"
"No, if it was going to explode it wouldn've been on impact of the crash, not five days later."
"I don't trust you, we need to find a different place...I hate technology. The world was sooooo much better when there were nothing but muskets and sabres..."
"If you want to go back to the civil war, be my guest, but when you get stabbed through the gut from a rogue sabre don't expect and Insta-Heal" replied Brandon, becoming frustrated with the the marines ignorance.
"You can be stabbed through the gut with one of those creatures claws too, it'd be no different!" Greg was in an outrage now, and no amount of psychology would get him out of this. He popped a new clip into his gun and put it up to Brandons head in one swift movement. He yelled, "We move, or i shoot him dead!"
to be continued
Short story by Painful Profits
Read 820 times
Written on 2006-05-22 at 21:48
Tags Anxiety Suspense Continuation
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liz munro |
