A bubble of blood seeped up through the sand near Jarvis’s face. He watched as it grew into a puddle. After ten years of combat experience against the X-Hallians, Jar had thought he’d seen everything. He’d been wrong.
He lay motionless amid the pile of bodies which stretched as far as the eye could see. An X-Hallian officer stood only a few feet away, the heel of one of his black boots in the edge of Jar’s vision. The officer’s men were busy searching the battlefield for survivors. Occasionally, Jar would hear them venting their frustrations by firing into the sea of bodies.
Jar guessed there were probably about a dozen X-Hallians in the officer’s squad. He had no intention of dying today. As long as he lay still they would eventually tire of their search and move on, leaving him free to make a break for Alliance lines.
The puddle of blood seemed to move. Tendrils of the red liquid broke off from its form and crept towards the nearest body. Jar watched in horror as a tendril reached the body to his left. The blood touched the decaying flesh and seemed to dissolve it from the corpse’s bones. The other tendrils turned in their paths, racing for the body of the dead solider as more blood welled up around the man. Deifying gravity, it poured up his face breaking down all the organic tissue it came into contact with, leaving only a skeleton in the Alliance uniform beside Jar.
Jar wanted to scream, to leap to his feet and put as much distance as he could between himself and the blood beast as possible, but the officer still stood nearby. Jar’s knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip on his rifle.
An X-Hallian solider walked towards him. “Please, God,” Jar prayed, “Please not like this.”
The X-Hallian bent down on one knee and prodded Jar with the end of his rifle. When Jar showed no response, he got up and turned to the commander. “The field’s clear, sir.”
The commander shrugged indifferently. “Withdraw,” the commander said and walked over to Jarvis. He kicked Jar with a blow which sent ripples of pain shooting throughout the sniper’s body. “If this is the best the Sol humans can do, then we have already won this war.”
“Yes, sir,” the solider under his command answered rigidly.
Within minutes, the field was empty but for Jarvis, the dead, and the thing beneath the sand. Though it was a struggle, Jar managed to stay motionless a second longer to be sure the X-Hallians had departed then leapt to his feet and took off at run for Alliance lines.
It was two full days before he stumbled across a small platoon of Terrans. Their camp was not much more than a fire pit and a few grooves in the sand from where they slept. They accepted Jar into their ranks without question, happy to see another living Terran solider. Jar told them what little he knew of the aftermath of the battle. The main body of the Alliance force had retreated towards to the north, presumably to regroup and launch a new offensive.
Sergeant Malkin, who led the small platoon, showed no interest in catching up with the main force. He and his men were for now content to remain where they were, safe and far from the action.
Jar was pleasantly surprised to discover some of the men had heard of him. One private named Matthew Sorrels even asked him to roll up his sleeve and show them the tattoo of bullets which stretched from his shoulder to his wrist, one bullet for each confirmed kill, one hundred and thirteen in all.
As the group settled in for the cold desert night, Malkin made his way over and took a seat beside Jarvis at the fire. “Hard to keep it burnin’,” Malkin nodded towards the fire, “It’s tough to find wood out here, so we been burnin’ cacti.”
Jar looked at the sergeant intently.
“Yeah, I know,” Malkin said, “They ain’t suppose to burn. Supposed to be water on the inside, but every one we’ve found so far has been dead and drier than shit; so why not use the damn things, eh?”
“How long have you been out here?” Jar asked.
“Longer than I’d like to admit. We weren’t part of the big show if that’s what you’re getting at. We broke off from the main unit two days before the battle started. I had a feeling they had underestimated the X-Hallians. Looks like I was right. . . So what are you doin’ out here? They give you a target behind the lines?”
“That’s classified,” Jarvis laughed, digging in his backpack for a smoke.
“Damn it to Hell,” Malkin grinned, “I really wanted to know, too.”
Jar offered the burly man a cigarette, which Malkin snatched from his hand.
“Thanks, boy,” Malkin said lighting up, “I ran out yesterday.” The sergeant leaned back, looking the sniper over. “We’ve seen some strange shit out here, Jarvis. How about you?”
Jar shrugged, “It’s war. Strange shit happens in wars.”
“C’mon, boy, you’ve seen it haven’t you? Malkin pressed. When Jar didn’t answer, he continued, “I haven’t lost a single man to the X-Hallians. When we broke off from the main unit, this platoon was at full strength too. Now, there’s just the six of us, seven counting you. Somebody dies every night out here and there ain’t nothin’ we can do to stop it. . . We all take turns watching at night, but it don’t do any good. It comes up through the sand, Jarvis. . .Through the sand and sucks the flesh right off your bones. . . Reckon who it’ll get tonight, sniper?” Malkin laughed bitterly.
Jar got to his feet, without saying a word, and left the older man by the fire. Private Sorrels waved at him as he crossed the camp’s perimeter and sought a place to sleep in the darkness of the dunes, away from Malkin and his squad.
Jar dreamed of the green fields of Earth and the cool breeze which precedes a spring rain. He missed home more and more with each passing day.
The sound of gunfire tore Jar from his rest. He awoke rolling over to grab his rifle, and was instantly on his feet. The night was dark and the camp’s fire was out. The muzzle flashes in Malkin’s camp told Jar all he needed to know. It was not an X-Hallian attack. There was no return fire, only the sound of dying men screaming.
Jar blinked and switched his optical implants into low-light mode. All Alliance snipers received the upgrade to their retina whether they wanted it or not. The pale starlight changed in that instant to light as bright as that of the mid-day sun. A geyser of blood was streaking upwards towards the sky from the fire pit. At least it looked like blood, but Jar knew it was the creature from the battle field for two of Malkin’s men lay half dissolved beneath it. Of the rest of Malkin’s platoon, Jar saw only the sergeant himself and Mat. He assumed the others had fled into the night.
Malkin struggled desperately to drag Mat towards the edge of the camp where Jar stood. A long wound stretched across Mat’s bare chest and stomach. His intestines dangled from his body leaving wet trails in the sand. Malkin fired another burst at the thing but his rounds splashed through it harmlessly, with no visible effect.
Jar started to take aim at the creature, but noticed the tendrils of liquid which had broken off from the pool around the geyser and were winding their way across the desert floor towards his feet. Jar turned his rifle downwards and blasted the sand futilely.
“Help me!” Malkin wailed. Jar covered the distance between them in a few quick strides, grabbing one of Mat’s dangling arms. He looked into the private’s dull glazed over eyes and instantly let go. “He’s dead,” Jar said coldly to Malkin, “Leave him.”
Tears streamed down the old sergeant’s cheeks. “They’re all dead,” he muttered.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Jarvis yelled into his face. Malkin nodded mutely only half-comprehending the sniper’s words.
Suddenly, the night was lit by an X-Hallian A.P.C.'s headlights. Jarvis howled, clutching his eyes, and fell to his knees. Malkin stared at the armored vehicle as its turret gunner cut him down where he stood. The geyser vanished, the blood-thing sinking into the sand.
Jarvis fired blindly at the A.P.C., his eyes aflame with pain. Sparks flew as his shots pinged off the vehicle’s armor. The driver bore down on Jar at max. speed. The forward grill struck the sniper as he heard the sickening crunch of his own bones snapping. Jar was tossed aside by the impact like a rag doll as the A.P.C. roared through the camp and into the desert night in search of new targets.
Jar felt his shattered ribs jabbing into his lungs as he tried to breath. His rifle was no where to be seen and he lacked the strength to search for it. The last thing Jarvis saw was a wave of red exploding upwards from the sand towards him. His flesh sizzled away as the thing engulfed him, feeding its eternal hunger, leaving only bones behind as it sank back into the sand. Jar hadn’t even had time to scream.