Drift

Golden honeycomb streams into the dim bedroom as shafts of sunlight gradually trickle through the partially drawn pale blue curtain. The gentle morning heat caressed the inhabitant’s face and the rays hissed against closed lids. Years serving in the Special Forces had made James a light sleeper and quick to grapple out of unconsciousness. Nights of sleeping on outside the wire areas, hand dug foxholes, debris and cramped hammocks in mosquito infested jungle terrains with threats of ambushes, the enemy firing mortars or rockets and shelling at the middle of the night. Experience had engraved into his mind and every sinew in his body the perfectly honed tactical snooze even with the warzone breathing down his neck in any godforsaken place he had been deployed to.

The cool air of early September received him as the former Captain smoothly roused from sleep and post-slumber lethargy promptly seeped off from him. Eyelids thusly flickered open, revealing deep pools of baby blue. He is much aware of the warmth radiating from next to him as his lips twitch in amusement at the sight as mops of dark honey blonde hair are strewn haphazardly on the pale grey pillow and sheets. His arm was tucked under her head and his other arm was curled around her waist, pressing her back against him with their legs tangled together.

Naturally, he sat up and slowly retracted his arm from under her weight, the mattress faintly shifting from under him at the action. He glanced at the woman next to him and his gaze subliminally fell on the small velvet blue box perched on the nightstand at the right side of the bed. The sight of it is all but taunting him, begetting memories and sentimentalities as his eyes unknowingly soften about.

“It’s too early,” Brianna groaned out, voice partially muffled against the fluff of her pillow. Even with her facing the opposite direction from him he knew all too well that she had her eyes firmly scrunched shut and a grimace etched her warm squared visage, leaving subtle creases just above slender brows.

She was never a morning person and had even claimed that she couldn’t function normally until she had consumed her daily dose of morning tea. He would frequently catch sight of the her sluggishly shambling her way to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of the drink he had routinely prepared for her. She wasn’t one to opt for coffee since she hated the tangy aftertaste it left on her tongue. He knew she preferred chamomile tea with a splash of milk during mornings but would sometimes tend towards black tea in stressful ones after late nights of finishing her manuscripts so he had brought it upon himself to prepare the liquid magic, as she would call it, on a day to day basis. The shrill sound of the kettle would naturally draw her out of their shared bedroom and into the kitchen with a mawkishly gauche gait.

He quietly pulled away from the covers, so as not to further disrupt Brianna’s continued slumber, and slid off the edge of the bed, padding over to the direction of the adjoining bathroom.

After a satisfying shower, he made his way to the kitchen with the intent of making breakfast and preparing tea. He deftly maneuvered his way around cupboards, cabinets and the stove, flitting from one task to another with minimal clanging from the skillet and other silverwares. The sizzling sound from the skillet immediately filled the kitchen as he cracked open some eggs and poured it over the pan. The disposition of how easily he had slipped into being ordinarily domestic sometimes baffles even himself. If you were to tell him five years ago that he would find himself wielding a spatula instead of the standard C8 Carbine primary assault rifle and living in the peaceful region of Oregon- a far cry from the pandemonium and thrill of the warzone- then he would look at you strangely like you’ve grown two heads and then straight out laugh derisively. Somehow he didn’t dislike the state he was in as of the present and if he was to say, he even relished in the untroubled atmosphere and amicable townspeople of the forested town. Aside from the excellent beers and absence of sales tax, he liked fishing in one of the many lakes of the Coastal state during weekends, as mundane as it sounds, and the fresh air that isn’t tinder dry which didn’t feel too thick to breathe in.

A few minutes later the high pitched whistle of the kettle pierced through noiselessness, steam emitting from the hole of the kettle spout. He fluidly flicked the stove burner off and poured the boiling contents into a porcelain teapot. Plucking a jar containing the tea leaves from a cabinet, he tipped the proper amount into the pot and left it to steep.

Leaning against a kitchen counter, his lips curved in unbridled mirth as he descried the disheveled form of Brianna shuffling into the room, hair tousled in every direction and all, and clambered into a kitchen chair. Promptly, she reached to the handle of the teapot sitting on the table and poured a generous amount into her favorite ceramic camp mug, forgoing the traditional teacup. She habitually added a splash of milk from its ceramic container laid out next to the teapot.

When half of the contents of the mug flowed down her throat, she let a relieved sigh escape from her lips. The sound fluttered quietly and it was as if all of her tension lifted from her due to the earthy liquid. Gone were the hunch in her shoulders and her light brown eyes are more wakeful then a minute prior.

“You’re welcome,” He sardonically said, a lazy smirk playing across his lips, the words cutting through her shared serenity with her morning tea.

“I’m not surprised that by now you’ve already learned mind reading,” She countered, the quip spewing out of her mouth so quickly that it had seemed habitual of her. A smile was stretching across her lips and her eyes stared back at him with an impish gleam.

“While your overestimation of me seems gratifying I’d have to deny that claim,” He answered back, sauntering over to the table with a plate in each hand.

She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his lips, her way of telling him to shut up and let her relish in her breakfast.

They easily slip into a routine they have both been accustomed ever since they moved into a backwater town of the known Beaver state. They share a conversation about random things over a breakfast of eggs, bacon and sausages, Brianna sometimes bringing up topics with regards to her manuscripts and asking for his opinion about certain things.

It was when Brianna had gone out early to the post-office, saying she had to mail her manuscript to her literary agent, did the doorbell ring. The tinny sound reverberated through the halls of the ranch house.

‘Now who could that be?’ James thought as he strode off towards the direction of the front door, long legs eating up the distance from the living room where he had been watching the morning news to foyer. He certainly wasn’t expecting someone that morning and Brianna hadn’t mentioned anything about it either.

Mechanically, his hand settled on the doorknob and the door falls open. Two men in black suit stood by his doorway. The one closer to the doorframe wore dark shades perched on an upturned nose. He was taller than his companion and had his dark brown hair slicked back with a close shaved face and the build of a stereotypical American bouncer. The man behind him stiffly stared back at James with a stern onyx-eyed gaze. Facial hair lined his jaw and his jet black hair was neatly trimmed short with a leaner build than his stony-faced companion.

“James Magnus,” The taller man enunciated, more of a statement than a question. The humorless tone made it seem like he was already certain of who he was and needed no further verification.

“Yes, that would be me,” He replied, eyeing the men warily. There was an incongruous feeling at the pit of his stomach and he kept his senses heightened for any signs of hostility. Every muscle and tendon in his body made ware of, readying himself to spring into action if needed.

“We need you to come with us,” The man said in the same grim tone, leaving no room for objections. He made no sign of stepping closer but it didn’t make James less dubious of him.

As if sensing his intent to retaliate at any moment, the burly man gravely added,” If you don’t want anything to happen to Ms. Rebecca Thomas, that is.”

He stiffened in his place, questions and unease racing through his mind a mile a minute and he felt more tension in his sinews. ‘How did they know Brianna’s real name?’

‘And who are these guys?’

*****

James was currently situated at the back seat of an obscurely tinted car parked in front of his house. The burly man sporting shades was sitting next to him while the other one was at the driver’s seat. They had apprised him that they were from a government covert organization named G.I.E.L.D. He was too occupied with drinking in the sight of the manila folder in his lap, containing photos and highly sensitive information of Brianna.

“Former American spy,” The taller man- who had introduced himself as Agent Ragland- supplied a fact that James had already known.” She had some loose ends before leaving the company.”

Before he could give a response to that, Agent Ragland slapped another manila folder to his hands, a picture of him paper-clipped to the side. He recognized the photo from an operation in Gibraltar in 1988. His blue-eyed gaze raked over the sight of a younger version of himself, looking elsewhere, oblivious to a camera viewing him from afar.

“Captain James Magnus.” The words seemed mechanical, pouring out in grimly stilted memorized lines. James has little to no idea of where he’s looking at through the dark lenses of his shades.” Former SAS. Jungle warfare expert and had been in the Regiment until the Cold War ended.”

“What do you want?” James narrowed his eyes in open wariness, clenching his jaw. He abhorred being kept in the dark and having no idea what their intentions where, especially if it involved him and his girlfriend.

“G.I.E.L.D. is conducting a search and rescue operation in an off the grid island located at the North Pacific. We need someone like you, a tracker and your expertise in uncharted jungle terrains. The operations director will fill you in more details once you get to hq.”

“And if I don’t accept?” The lilt of his accent made the severity in his tone surreptitiously rise.

The puzzling smirk in the man’s then grim face made him even more vigilant. ” You should know that Miss Thomas’s loose ends are not that tolerant. If word got out of her current conditions then I can’t guarantee that her safety will be ensured.”

The words die a silent death in his throat as he pursed his lips in a grim line and scowled. He was aware of Brianna’s previous line of profession and that some people were still after her head. He knew moving into the countryside and taking on a false identity were not enough to keep their pasts from hunting them. However, no amount of knowing could prepare him of that day the skeletons in the closet are revisited and now that he had all these laid out in front of him, he was battling with maintaining his stoic calm over the lack of options in his part.

Taking his silence as a sign of resignation, Agent Ragland continued,” Tomorrow at 10. Portland International Airport, search for Icarus.”

Icarus turned out to be a privately rented Jet plane with a sleek black exterior. He had told Brianna the day before that he had to fly back to England due to some business he had to settle there after a certain phone call and he had no idea how long it would take. There was no question about what the business was which he was grateful. She had only asked what time his flight was and if he needed help with packing. That was one of the things he loved about her, she finds no need to complicate things that can be made simpler.

That morning she had gotten up earlier than usual, despite usually despising mornings. Breakfast was filled with the clinking of silverwares against porcelain and the usual conversation, albeit Brianna’s more loquacious than usual demeanor.

He had asked her to simply forgo accompanying him to the airport, pointing out that she had a deadline to catch up to with her recent book. When it was time for him to leave, they stood in their front porch with him having a duffle bag slung on one shoulder. She had curled her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a goodbye kiss. It didn’t go unnoticed by him how she had slanted her lips over his longer than usual.

“I’m gonna miss you,” She had said against his lips,” I’m waiting for you to tell me that you’re gonna miss me too.”

“It’s just going to be a few days,” He had assured her with a grin, gazing into her light brown eyes. “But I’m going to miss you too, Brie.”

She had given him a peck on the lips before finally letting him saunter towards the awaiting cab. The ride had been quicker than expected as he spent it contemplating on the mission he had blindly accepted. He had never heard of any organization with the name of G.I.E.L.D. and it just shows the depth of how covert it really is. Turns out three of their choppers crashed into an uncharted island in North Pacific, carrying a platoon of their men, due to some unforeseen causes. Apparently the aforementioned island had partially escaped their satellite’s radar, merely appearing as an almost translucent blurry blob in their satellite images. He had a feeling that there was more to it than the agent was telling him, taking into account that they had specifically sought out a tracker. They were as covert as they get yet they had gotten through lengths to get him involve into the operation. A heavy sense of something akin to dread and untrustworthiness settled over him.

Before he knew it, he was already at the airport as the cab driver called his attention, cutting off his train of thoughts.

A woman that appeared to be in her early 30′s, in a smart looking black blazer and matching pencil skirt, had approached him. A good-natured smile was plastered on her face then.

“Captain James Magnus?” There was an inquisitive lilt to her tone as she stared expectantly at him, her brown haired bob faintly bouncing as she spoke.

“Just James Magnus,” He corrected, the reply quickly flowing out of his lips,” I’ve been decommissioned.”

The woman nodded her head,” Right. Follow me then.”

Obliging her, she led him towards a sleek looking black jet plane nicknamed: the Icarus.

It was like a bad joke with a punchline he had yet to pinpoint. It was difficult not to be wary of it with a name like that. Icarus, in Greek Mythology, had been the son of a master craftsman who fell from the sky when his wax wings melted and drowned at sea. He was uncertain if he actually wanted to know the reason as to why the jet was named that.

Despite that, he unrelunctantly climbed up the stairs and traipsed into the wide entryway of the jet. When he entered through the threshold he noticed that no one else was there aside from him, the woman who had introduced herself as Agent Huntley along the way and two pilots as he can see from the open cockpit door. The interior of the aircraft had a sumptuous air to it and the seats were in dark beige leather as opposed to the usual closely rowed clothe covered seats of most airlines.

He had tried asking for more details about the mission from Agent Huntley but all he got was the same tidbits of information Ragland divulged the day prior. She told him that the operations director would brief him and the others about the mission. With that, he surmised that the operation was likely more sensitive than he had first thought.

Apparently, the term HQ had been loosely used for a secret underground facility 2000 feet below the ground under an inconspicuous looking commercial building with a slightly over the hill art deco structure based in Pennsylvania.

The steel elevator had a stale atmosphere and creaked about as they continued descending below the surface. The numbers plastered above the doors glared down at them, indicating how far down they went as seconds ticked by. There wasn’t even a mediocre elevator music permeating through the stuffy silence inside the elevator.

When he had gotten unsurprisingly ennuied at staring at the muzzy and warped reflection on the elevator walls the doors finally hissed open. Promptly, Huntley stepped outside and he had little to no choice but to follow her.

The first thing that caught his attention was the logo engraved on the wall, next to a mounted flag of U.S.A. It was a silhouette of an eagle facing sideways, wings extending sharply and the words: Government Issued Espionage Logistics Division in an intertwining banner.

And then the next thing that grabbed his attention was the odd sight of a dark bronze-skinned man with a buzz cut in a covert green shirt and camouflage cargo pants, booting a nearby vending machine.

“A servant of justice committing a crime. How ironic. The military would have been so proud of you,” Quipped a blond thirty something, sporting almost the same get up as the former apart from the grey hoodie he had donned. Sarcasm laced his tone as he stood next to his companion, regarding the man with something akin to amusement.

“Shut it, Duke,” The taller man countered.” This vending machine had robbed me of my money far too many times. It’s not even coughing out my chips.”

“The machine’s shitty as they come. They should really get that fixed,” A slightly older man with a thin stubble gruffly pointed out as he threw a pack of cheetos to the male with a buzz cut which the latter deftly caught.

As Agent Huntley and James drew closer to the distinct bunch, the male with a buzz cut wasn’t one to disappoint with noticing them.

“Good morning, Karen,” He grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the nearby wall.

“It’s still morning?” The guy with a stubble voiced out.

“You never know around here for sure,” The blond male responded.

“Good morning, Gentlemen,” Huntley primly replied with a well-seasoned smile. Shifting her gaze to stubble faced male, she added,” And yes, it’s still morning, Captain Pearson.”

Said captain merely nodded, an impish grin across his face.

“Gentlemen, this is Captain James Magnus, he’ll be joining you with the SAR operation,” Huntley introduced and James had to bite back the correction from escaping his lips.” Former SAS. Captain Magnus, this is our Bravo team. Well, at least almost half of the bravo team.”

“Sergeant Duke,” She gestured to the blonde male at the left who nodded at him in acknowledgement.

“Warrant Officer Glenn,” She gesticulated at the man next to him, the one who had booted the vending machine behind him.

“So you’re the tracker they’ve been talking about, huh?” Glenn effused,” Captain James Magnus.”

“Just James Magnus,” He mechanically corrected,” I’ve been decommissioned.”

“And this is Captain Pearsons.”

“Warrant Officer Glenn, the maintenance team had told you to stop kicking the vending machine,” A soft yet steely voice cuts through the introduction the former Regiment army had been itching to get over with.

Then and there, they veered their attention towards a petite woman with austere hazel eyes staring back at them. She was sporting grey long sleeves underneath a covert green shirt with G.I.E.L.D. imprinted just above its breast pocket and black trousers. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun that made her look as stringent as the tensed knot of her chestnut locks even with her roughly 5′2 frame.

*****

HOPKINS

*****

I had been squinting through the lens of my microscope, studying a sample from a mutated organism that they have retrieved from the aftermath of the Chernobyl disaster. I was holed up in the sterile laboratory, flitting through the process of peering through the eyepiece, recording anything that seemed out of place in the notebook next to the microscope and comparing samples. The soft clattering hum of the machinery filled the place and the aseptic undertone of bleach had assaulted my senses to the point where even when I was outside the cold lab there was a ghost of the smell that followed me. This was where I bide my time whenever I wasn’t busy teaching biology to a class of students who looked like they wanted to be anywhere but the stuffy classroom of Drexel University where I worked as a part time professor. And if I wasn’t in any of those then I’d be at my low-rise apartment flat that was a couple of blocks away from the university. Basically the flat’s purpose had been more of a mere place where I sleep and take baths then an actual residency. I spend a majority of my time in the lab which was 2000 feet below the ground, away from the public’s prying eyes and away from messy things people of the human world would normally like to partake in. I relish in the solitude, letting it wrap around me like a cocoon that kept me away from the unsaid appetency of people to be around others.

However, lately I had found discontent gradually burgeoning inside me as I easily yet tediously slip into an increasingly repetitive routine called my job. Little do I know that the redundant stagnation that my life had come to would take a tremendous turn that seemingly ordinary Wednesday morning.

I had been laboring away in the same sterile lab when a brunette clambered into the lab, some of her curly strands flying to every direction and her eyes wild with urgency as her brown-eyed gaze darted around the room to search for me. If memory served right, her name was Cleo and she was a junior personnel working at the control station. She had become somewhat of a messenger inside HQ. She pressingly informed me that I was needed back at the control station.

While I had been confused at the information I didn’t ask any question and quickly made my way to the control station located at the north wing of the G.I.E.L.D. headquarters. When I had walked through the sound-proofed metal doors of the facility, everyone in the room had swiveled around to look at me. I quietly shifted my weight from one foot to another as if the action could divert the heavy attention away from me. When they had seen that it was only me they eventually turned back their attention to whatever held it a moment prior.

I noticed that no one, apart from me, was from the Science Division. About twelve people filled the room and they were all donned in the standard uniform of the Quasi-military division, aside from Supervisor Orville Fields who was standing on a low dais of the Control station, sporting a black suit.

“Professor Hopkins,” Supervisor Fields called my attention, an almost imperceptible smile on his face,” Just the person we were looking for.

I should’ve known from the well-obscured expression on the supervisor’s visage that something didn’t seem right as he proceeded to punch some buttons on the control station’s radiotelephone.

There was a sharp hiss as the recorded radiotelephony transmission started. Even if the fizzing of static garbled the words and occasionally cut off the person who was speaking through the other end I could perspicuously make out the fear and urgency permeating his tone as he proceeded to call out to HQ before stating his unit’s designated call sign. He had then sporadically spouted about how their choppers had crashed into an uncharted island in the North Pacific of which the reason was left unknown due another crash of static through the line. The urgently spewed words stream in a bout of spasmodic partial obscurity as the soldier on the other line divulged more about their situation. A lilt in his tone and his words are cut off so soon that I had willed myself to concentrate further into the transmission yet nothing but a long drawn out silence enveloped the room. I felt the air tremored around me and I had a feeling that the others had already heard the message before I even stepped into the room but that still didn’t stop most of them from freezing up in their seats.

I could swear that the dread in the soldier’s voice would haunt me for hours or even days to come. There was a painful desperation in his voice that left a palpable unease in the hollowness of my chest.

Supervisor Fields, with a solemn look in his usually beady eyes, continued to brief us on the plans of a Search and Rescue mission which still didn’t fill me in as to why they needed me, a mere biologist from the Science Division. After the briefing and once the supervisor had dismissed everyone in the room he had then approached me, giving me a manila folder that contained the mission statement and mission analysis of the operation.

“You used to be in the military, right, Professor Hopkins?” It sounded more of a statement than an actual inquiry.

“Yes, sir. For five years,” I nodded. But it seemed like a lifetime ago now. War was a terrible thing and no amount of years or decades can isolate a normal person from the horrors of it, from seeing bodies of fallen comrades and even enemies line up the ground like a macabre sight of toppled dominoes and the blood on your hands as you plunge a knife to the depth of the chest cavity of a man. Your view will be filled with bodies littering the ground and nose with the dank smell of fumes and death that follows you everywhere. It was terrible and I keep telling myself that it was a lifetime ago to escape the cold grasp of the horrors I had faced during those five years.

“The files in there will be enough to fill you in what you should be doing,” He said before excusing himself and walking out the door of the Control station, leaving me with the files that felt too heavy in my grasp.

For the days that followed I had poured over the pages of the files, imprinting every word and image to my memory. I drank in the information, the statements and analyses, burrowing into the memoirs of the yellowing with age last few pages of the files. The words get a bit hazy the more I flicked from one page to another but still intelligible enough to fill me in in what must be done.

They had assigned me to go along with the latest mission to the unknown North Pacific island. Aside from this being an SAR mission, my superiors had wanted to extend it to a scientific expedition. They didn’t want the novelty of exploring the island’s resources to miss them. Apart from their quasi-military division, G.I.E.L.D. prized their state of the art science and technology innovation.

I had an inkling that I had been chosen for this expedition more because of my history of serving in the military than my actual competence as a biologist of the Science Division. They were yet to be certain if the island was safe for any non quasi-military personnel and they couldn’t afford to send a scientist who was heedless of the basics of operating any gun or unaware of any forms of combat.

Naturally they would be sending a team of scientists to an expedition but they’d make do with me due to the clandestine nature of the mission.

Since then the base had been pretty occupied from strategizing to handpicking the soldiers that were to join the operation. Those who knew of the mission had been conducting meetings and discussing the measures they had to take in order to keep the further nature of the organization while accomplishing the task promptly.

Friday morning found me pacing through the bright white halls of the facility as I made my way to the archives of the headquarters. Barely halfway there, I spot the familiar form of Warrant Office Glenn from the G.I.E.L.D.’s Bravo team, standing by the vending machine with a few people.

Now I was one to keep interaction with others to a minimum and I didn’t simply pop out of nowhere to talk to people. However due to the Officer’s recent fixation with “getting his revenge” on the vending machine that had taken on devouring his money without expelling any of the selected products after, said machine had been inclined to go faulty since then. That vending machine was actually one of the few things I get merit from in this underground facility and if Warrant Officer Glenn broke it then I won’t be of tolerant of actions. So I begrudgingly resort to bringing it on myself to chastise him.

“Warrant Officer Glenn, the maintenance team had told you to stop kicking the vending machine,” I said, intent on merely giving him an indication of a warning and be back on my way to the archives.

However the officer had a different course of action in mind.

“Professor Hopkins,” He grinned at me,” Just in time. Meet the new addition to the operation.”

Deep baby eyes met mine as Warrant Officer Glenn gestured at a tall lean built man clad in a dark blue-black sweater that subtly stood out from the cacophony of covert green and grey colors of the org’s standard uniform.

I knew that face, had known it before I even met the man himself. When they had told me that they were taking in another person to the operation I had been beyond puzzled. G.I.E.L.D., for all its covert nature, wasn’t one to involve someone outside the organization. That was why no one apart from the people who actually worked here and a few people in the government knew of this place. It didn’t take long for me to acquire the name of the supposed tracker and I had been well on my way in digging through the forgotten corners of the archives for information about him and through the files my superiors had provided for the mission. I had poured over the information given on him, scourging the pages and reading until the words merged and intertwined into one to the point where it was hard to decipher where one begins and the others end. It was only when I felt a prickle in the corner of my eyes and the pages fell short that I had deemed it reasonable to stop.

“Captain Magnus,” I acknowledged.

I saw him surreptitiously purse his lips before opening his mouth to reply.

“Just Magnus,” He corrected, the syllables lilting off his tongue with his deep cut-glass British accent,” I’m decommissioned.”

“Mr. Magnus, this is Professor Elaine Hopkins,” Huntley chimed in,” She’s a biologist who will be joining you with the operation.”

“You’re sending a biologist to an SAR operation?” He asked, glancing at Agent Huntley.

“A scientific expedition is just an added package,” I curtly said. Then I turned to the others,” Head to the AVR room in 10 minutes. The supervisor told me that everyone should be there for a General briefing.”

I then continued on my way to my original destination, the distance drowning out the conversation behind me.

During the mission briefing, ten minutes later, Supervisor Fields, as the operations director, is in front of a troop of the selected soldiers for the mission, explicating the situation they had in their hands and going over the execution of the operation, along with risks and the tactic of transport. Earlier he had even played the transmission that they had received as if to give them a clear grasp of the gravity of the operation. Just like in the Control station, they had gone quiet after hearing the frazzled message.

The light from the projector in front glares back at the spectators in the dim room as I stayed in the back as if the distance and darkness would keep any attention from me as the Supervisor briefly mentioned me joining the operation with another mission of my own. I wasn’t unaware of skeptical looks that were subtly thrown my way as soon as my involvement was announced. The misanthropic biologist with a chronic introversion was to be joining the crew, I could only imagine the hushed questions that followed after.

It seems like I wasn’t the only one keen on alienating oneself from the others. Magnus was standing at the other side of the room, opting to lean against a wall with his arms crossed, behind the faction of soldiers in their more laidback off time uniforms and sitting on the provided blue plastic chairs. He didn’t even flinch when the occupants in the room had turned to look at him when the supervisor had mentioned him, keeping a solemn expression on his face with his gaze planted on the project screen ahead.

The former SAS Captain was... cynical from what I’ve seen. Despite being an introvert, I don’t mind a sense of camaraderie from time to time whereas Magnus seemed like he kept everyone at arm’s length, distrustful of anyone but himself- probably besides the girl waiting for him back home, I remembered reading an information about him and a former American spy.

*****

The day of the operation I found myself sitting inside the organization’s unmarked stealth transport aircraft, along with the other soldiers. I was sweating in my dark dessert sand colored field jacket yet I doubt it had anything to do with the temperature. The plane would occasionally rock due to turbulence as we await drop off. Our superiors had figured it would be better for us to utilize the HAHO method instead in order to avoid detection since they still have no idea what caused the previous choppers to crash. We can’t be too careful since we don’t know what awaited us in the island and if there was a hostile horde waiting to shoot us down as soon as we get detected. Some suspected it was a group of terrorists taking refuge in the isolated island.

My grip on the handrail tightened as something akin to dread and anticipation weighted the pit of my stomach and I resorted to busying myself with checking my supplies inside the ruck sack that had been attached to the front of my belt, just below my reserve parachute.

*****

At dawn, they landed on the coast of the unknown island, along with the crates containing their supplies and rations. Everyone immediately started gearing up and checking their supplies.

Elaine “Lena” Hopkins quickly set about with checking the microscope she had brought along before checking her supplies much like everyone else around her. She took time to study her surroundings. A heavy morning mist swirled and obscured the horizon that stretched in front of them. Behind the sandy half-moon shaped beach was a thick jungle with a cacophony of trees as high as cathedrals and dense undergrowth.

After a while Colonel Murray ordered them to move forward towards the canopy of trees and a sea of subtle greens. They trudged through the suffocating underbrush and root infested ground. Some of them took the liberty of bringing out their machetes to cut a pathway for themselves. Lena, on the other hand, grappled on the branches of some low-rising trees to keep them from smacking right into her face. The air was balmy and humid that Lena couldn’t help but begrudgingly glance at most of the soldiers that had shed their covert green field jacket, settling with the standard grey undershirt, and Magnus who, right from the start, was wearing a blue shirt with a shoulder holster slung over it. She inwardly berated herself for not taking off her field jacket earlier at the coast. The jungle teemed with life as she made out the chirping of birds and frolicking of nearby woodland creatures echoing throughout the vast biome.

Throughout their trek inside the heavily vegetated terrain, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Only a labyrinth of trees met them as far the eye can see. She caught sight of a rabbit scamper past them and a few birds take flight from a nearby tree. Everything was a sight of a normal pristine jungle. Despite that, everyone was alert and on their guard for anything that might jump out from the nearby bushes to attack them.

When noon rolled around, Colonel Murray had let them take their break by a nearby stream. Everyone had dug into their rations and gotten the chance to refill their water canteens. Lena settled against the bark of a tree that had a distinct alcove shaped dent on it, nibbling on a pre packed meat pate.

Even when the sun almost made its descent behind the horizon there was still no sign of the crash site and the Coronel had ordered them to make camp for the night.

They didn’t even see it coming.

“Wait,” Magnus’s voice made them stop in their tracks, earning questioning looks from the others,” Isn’t it too quiet?”

“The animals are probably asleep,” A newbie- if she recalled, he was Private Sanderson- replied.

The former SAS Captain merely gave him an imperceptible perplexed look as if he was staring at the stupidest thing that had ever opened its mouth. “Everyone knows that jungles are never silent. ”

A bitter wind swept from the East before a scream abruptly pierced through the stillness of the evening as something swiftly swooped past a soldier from the right, the sound sending chills through their spine. One by one more soldiers receded from their sight as everyone hastily got out their gun and kept firing at something that the naked eye couldn’t quite register. Darkness had already enveloped the place completely and whatever it was that was attacking them was too quick to see.

“Dammit!” A string of curses fled Captain Pearson’s mouth as he hastily cocked his assault rifle.

Another scream.

“Briggs!” Warrant Officer Glenn hollered in a desperate frenzy.

They made out a clip-clopping sound before a sharp bleat rang throughout the night. Whatever it was, it came from everywhere like it was at many places at once, pouncing on the soldiers like meagre preys.

“Hollow square!” Magnus was the one to bark out the order as everyone hurriedly pushed closer, back to each other, guarding each sides with their eyes darting around the darkened terrain as if trying to make out their perpetrator.

“I can’t see a thing!” Lieutenant Salvernon hissed as he continued firing his MK46.

“Well neither can anyone, Lieutenant!” Colonel Murray shot back.

A brown blur charged at them and through them in a fleeting lightning pace. Colonel Murray barked out orders after orders as gunshots irradiated the fortress as it easily dodged the rain of bullets hailed upon it. Lena bit back a curse as her assault rifle ran out of ammunition and she hastily reached for the desert eagle secured in her thigh holster.

Magnus dropped on one knee and steadily peered through the scope of his M16A1 before pulling the trigger, followed by another three shots. An intermittent pained shriek tore through his momentum and the sound of something dropping to the ground followed. Everyone reluctantly stopped firing.

“Is it dead?” Private Sanderson was the first to voice out the lingering question.

“Why don’t you go check it out?” Captain McArtuir challenged.

Magnus fished out the flashlight which hung from a strap on his belt then flicked it on towards the area in front of him. An outlandish looking limb stuck out from behind a bush under the light’s glare.

“Are you sure it’s dead?” Private Sanderson asked again.

“Sanderson, shut up,” Captain Hafner hissed.

Feeling a wave of a curious unknown sensation, Lena gradually followed after Magnus as he stepped forward towards whatever it was that attacked them, plucking a sample tube from an accessible part of her pack.

The creature- whatever it was- sprawled on the unforgiving forest floor in a heap of tangled limbs. A rich smear of blood colored its long snout with razor sharp teeth and a few that stuck up over its upper lip. It was about 17 feet long and was covered in brown fur. Its white stomach was soiled with a crimson color, along with the white stripe under its slender neck. Black stretched through the extent of the area behind its ears. A bloody horn was connected to the crown of its head, the pointed projection split to form long and sharp forward-pointing prongs that seemed like a mockery of deadly talons. Lena inwardly blenched when she spotted some remnants of what seemed to be torn human flesh stuck to the horns. It had long legs and a muscular thigh that was similar to that of a human yet lean built lower legs. It had longer toes, so long that one could pass off as another lower leg that was simply attached to it, and sharp hooves adorned the end of each. Gangly arms extended in a somewhat gnarly way with long bony fingers that ended with razor-edged talons but upon closer inspections were actually pointed hooves. But what really stuck out the most and completed the macabre picture were its wide eyes, staring lifelessly ahead. They were the in the deepest black she had ever seen and the fact that its eyes were all purely that made it look more of a bottomless pit as if there were no eyeballs in their sockets in the first place.

A gory ragged wound bore through the center of its head, viscous crimson liquid oozing out from the gaping hole where four of Magnus’s bullets dug through.

“What the fuck is that?” She heard someone breathe from behind her but she was too consumed with scrutinizing the grotesque image to decipher who had said it.

Methodically, she extracted a tweezer from the pouch of her utility belt and leaned closer to the unknown organism.

“Professor Hopkins, I don’t think you should get that close to it,” Duke uneasily suggested.

Despite the warning, she proceeded to crouch in front of it and snapped a medical glove unto her left hand before grabbing the creature’s snout, prompting it to open its mouth. Jagged teeth met her sight as she acquired a sample from it with the tweezer in her right hand.

“Something’s really wrong here,” She muttered, studying its anatomy with a pensive look, thankful for Magnus still directing the flashlight to it.

“What do you mean?” Magnus asked.

“It’s a pronghorn antelope,” She simply answered back, still examining it under the glare of artificial lighting.

“Woman, I’ve been hunting antelopes all my life and I haven’t seen anything like that,” Glenn remarked, stupefied.

“It’s true,” The biologist supplied.” I don’t know how, I don’t why but somehow it has the same anatomy as a pronghorn antelope. Only more...”

She let the sentence hang.

“More what?” Magnus coaxed.

“... More evolved,” She finished.” The same prong-like horns but sharper and longer, the same leg but more bipedal like, the same hooves but looking more like talons, and the list just goes on.”

“Are you implying it’s some kind of evolution?” Colonel Murray asked.

“I don’t know yet. I need more time to think this over.” And by that she meant more time for her to get her shit together and to see if the sample she had taken would tell her what exactly was happening.

*****

Five men

They lost five men- in a blink of an eye! They had numbered two whole squads and now they were reduced to 16 men- the biologist and tracker aside- with three of which were injured.

Glenn could swear his hands still shook as he stared at them. He could still hear the sound of terror that tore through Lund’s throat as the creature gored through his stomach. He could only imagine the horror distorting the man’s thin face as the sharp prongs plunged into his guts. When they had checked the man’s body, he- a grown man and a trained soldier no less- stiffened in his spot, bile raising from his throat, the sour taste of his lunch threatening to escape his mouth. The wound was ghastly and deep- so deep that he could swear if he was to push his hand into it the appendage would fit through the gore. The sharp horns of the creature had left morbid gaping holes of bloody flesh and muscles that extended up to his ribcage as if as soon as it had thrusted those it had still dragged the horns higher, twisting its natural weapon in order to inflict more agony. He swore he had seen bones jutting out from the mutilation.

The other three had met with the same kind of injury, the same fate and the same mutilation. With the exception of Briggs, he blanched as he thought of his redneck friend, and the haunting look on his eyes- they were still wide open and dilated in a way that looked like he was merely sleeping with his eyes opened. However, Glenn knew that was not the case. He couldn’t delude himself or anyone that Briggs was merely sleeping in an outlandish way, anything but dead because the gaping wound at his neck said otherwise. Calling it a wound felt like underestimating the extent of the gut-wrenching sight. The front half of Brigg’s throat had been ripped out from the rest of his body and blood had poured from it. Even when they had turned the body over to have it checked, in his mind’s eye he could still see crimson liquid gushing through the hole as if it had been a waterfall of blood. Flesh and bones greeted their sight- he wouldn’t even deny that it made him feel queasier than he already was.

Colonel Murray had crouched by the bodies and gathered their dog tags before they had buried them. Glenn knew the act of taking possession of them had been more for the sake of the families left behind and the bodiless funeral that awaited them back home- that is if they even survive this and get home.

The creature was not human nor was it an animal. Professor Hopkins had said it was the latter but Glenn was beside himself with believing it. He knew what he saw, sprawled on the forest floor. Its eyes had mocked him- dark and haunting. It was the one laid down and dead but Glenn felt like his situation didn’t make much of a difference.

The Colonel had commanded them to move out since everyone had a looming feeling that there was more the creature came from. They had found a small cave, hidden from view by a thick undergrowth, and sought refuge there after checking the perimeter thoroughly. The wounded were being treated by two troop medic assigned to the operation. Corson and Martin have sustained gashes from their sides while Clark had been inflicted with a slash that resembled claw marks on his back.

“What now?” Corporal Wilson asked the Colonel, a hopeless grim expression on his face.

“We do what we came here then head to the East coastline of the island for EXFIL,” Colonel Murray had deftly answered.

“There are more of those things out there!” Private Moore had countered.

“We have a mission, Private, and we do it. Orders are orders regardless,” Captain McArtuir had been the one to answer.” Also, we can’t hide here forever. More of those things will find us. We need to get to the East for extraction.”

“The situations have changed, Captain,” Chief Warrant Officer Jones practically roared back, a frenzied look in his eyes.

“We never knew much of the situation in the island when we signed up for this, Jones,” Salvernon had said behind the usual balaclava he was sporting.

“I saw a tower five klicks away from here, East. There might be some kind of shelter that we can take refuge in nearby,” Professor Hopkins suggested.

“Then it’s settled. We head out tomorrow, search the perimeter for any survivors, head to a shelter and await EXFIL before daylight,” Colonel Murray stated.

“Are we really not gonna talk about what we saw there?” Sanderson gaped, pointing towards the opening of the cave,” The creature that attacked us?”

“You seemed so inclined of talking about it, Sanderson,” Hafner grunted offhandedly.

“What was that?” Sanderson sputtered.

“I told you,” Professor Hopkins said,” It was a pronghorn antelope.”

“No, Professor. That was not just a pronghorn antelope,” Moore snapped.

“Private Moore, I know as much as you right now,” The professor retorted.” Even if it was a pronghorn antelope it still seems less likely. Rainforests aren’t their natural habitats. They’re not supposed to be here.”

Silence sank into the place, putting them on edge as images and memories of the earlier event ate at them. The biologist wore a brooding look on her face before turning her back on them, busying herself with extracting a sleeping bag from her pack.

After that no further discussions were exchanged as everyone found a corner of the cave to recuperate and gather themselves after the carnage they had gone through. Salvernon and McArtuir had taken first watch by the opening of the cave, yet still obscured from outside view.

From beside Glenn, Duke had been silent throughout the exchange, slumped against the cave wall and seemingly staring at something in his hand. His dirty blonde hair was a mess and the faint light of the light sticks they were using casted shadows on his face that made his expression nearly imperceptible.

Further inspection revealed that what his friend had in his grasp was a picture of his wife, the sides of the photograph had been scuffed due to age but its content was still unmistakable from his perch.

He knew of the Sergeant’s wife- fiery red hair, distinct raspy voice and a sunny personality. She sometimes sends Duke drink mix like hot chocolate and instant coffee, homemade beef jerky and a few books of which he always teases him for.

“We had a fight before I left for this mission,” Duke quietly said.” I asked for divorce. I told her about Anne.”

“The junior operator at the control station?” He remembered the woman, light brown hair and wide almond eyes. It was earlier last year that she had started working for G.I.E.L.D.

Duke nodded.” Em didn’t even scream at me or throw a fit. She quietly looked at me, a pained expression on her face. She told me to give it some time and if that’s what I really wanted, what would make me happy then she’d let it be. I wanted her to be mad, God, I wanted her to scream at me in rage or something, anything other than the heartbreaking look on her face. She hugged me- the same way she does at my darkest days. And I fucking hated myself for that.”

He could hear the contempt in the man’s tone, the intense emotion directed to no one but himself.

“Man, you’re a shitty husband,” Pearsons, who had caught wind of the conversation, had voiced out from beside Duke, munching on some beans from a can of rations.

It might’ve sounded flippant but what Pearsons had said held some truth to it.

“Well, at least he has a wife,” Glenn tried to alleviate the atmosphere, his usual funny remarks had seemed to fly him by.

“When that thing attacked us...” Duke trailed off, the wordlessness hanging precariously,” If there are more of those things out there, are we even coming out of this alive? Am I ever getting home to tell my wife that when I thought of death, I thought of ever making up to her?”

Words are lost on them as silence filled the air around the, creating a void that gaped in lack of consolation or any statement. Duke’s words made them contemplate on their chances of survival in a dangerous unforgiving environment with unknown monsters lurking and waiting to pounce on them.

The Sergeant was usually the collected and unruffled one during operations. He always had this fire in him to get any job done faultlessly. His tenacity and seriousness in missions made him seem without any visible flaws on the surface. But as Glenn’s gaze raked over his friend he couldn’t help but think that there’s a quiet shift in him that was a far cry from the usual spunky Sergeant they have come to know.

*****

James let his gaze sweep over the darkened terrain. He could feel a thousand of eyes out there, peering at him and watchful of his every move. It was his turn to keep watch while the others slept inside. Despite being covered by a debris by the cave opening, he felt as if he was too exposed to the creatures prowling about outside. Instead of terror, he felt a sense of adrenaline coursing through him as he reached for his M16A1 by his side. He felt the weight of their countless gazes follow his movement. The atmosphere was indisputably cold but there was a stillness in the air, unmoving. Occasionally he hears but more like feels a quiet susurrus here and there.

He made out the sound of a faint rustle behind him and swiveled around to see Professor Hopkins emerge from the recesses of the cave they were staying for the night. She settled from across him, pushing her back against the cave wall.

“What are you doing here?” He inquired, eyeing her warily.

“I didn’t think it was safe to let Moore keep guard tonight,” She replied in a subdued clipped tone.” He looked too shaken up. As were the others.”

“Seeing what the man witnessed, I don’t blame him,” He shrugged.

“We all saw it, Captain Magnus.”

“I’m decommissioned,” He bit back.

“No,” She enunciated, tone firmer,” You weren’t decommissioned. You quitted.”

He merely stared at her blankly.

“You know more than you let on, huh Professor Hopkins?” He squinted.” Former military.”

“Five years,” She replied,” A lifetime ago.”

“Last time I checked the military doesn’t simply let women into direct combat.”

“And we haven’t even started on your clean slate,” He added, surreptitiously scrutinizing her,” No family, no friends and no partner. A double life, a part-time professor in Drexel University and secretly working in a clandestine organization full time.”

“I wasn’t aware we were comparing notes.”

“Well that aside,” He said,” Have you found anything about the creature that attacked us?”

“I ran some tests on the sample I acquired. It’s red blood cells matched those of a normal pronghorn antelope. The same sickle shaped cells.”

“But?”

“But, like what Warrant Officer Glenn said, I haven’t seen a pronghorn look like that,” She pointed out, a pensive expression painted her face,” Something is clearly at play here.”

“Of course,” He crossed his arms, letting himself lean back against the cave wall.” Is this why you made a tracker tag along?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t simply hire a tracker for an SAR mission, unless you’re tracking someone,” He narrowed his eyes,” Or in this case, something.”

“Are you insinuating that I know more than what I’ve told you so far?” She furrowed her brows as she stared back at him.

“Well someone in the organization clearly does.”

Professor Hopkins sighed.” What do you know about G.I.E.L.D., Mr. Magnus?”

“It’s a secret organization involved with covert quasi military operations and scientific innovations.”

“G.I.E.L.D. is more covert than they let you think it is. They keep secrets even from those who works for them. They can’t afford to be discovered.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” She paused.” G.I.E.L.D. is the dark side of the government. They do the dirty jobs so the government can keep their hands clean. They resort to certain measures just to keep secrets from the public that the government doesn’t want out. Assassination, genocide, extrajudicial homicide, covert operations behind the public’s back. Blackmail isn’t beyond them, as you’ve probably experienced firsthand- which also brought you into this operation.”

“Despite that, I don’t see what they’d gain by sending their men to their deaths in some off the grid island,” She reasoned.” Even so, I know just as much as anyone here.”