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They ran on, but a few moments later Shaw spotted movement ahead. He couldn't make out what it was in the shadows, but he reached for his rifle. Before he could get a shot off a light pulsed before him, striking the Corporal. They were both knocked off their feet as if a grenade had landed among them. Shaw was stunned. In the fall he had lost his rifle. He looked around but could see no sign of it, but he did spot the Corporal's dead body.

  "Shit," he muttered as Pope appeared beside him.

  "What the fuck are we gonna do? We're getting slaughtered out here."

  "Run, run for our lives. Come on, let's go!"

  He drew out his pistol and sprinted. The other three were close behind. They were showing no caution now. That had failed them. There was a crack at their backs and Shaw turned in time to see the balls of light soaring towards them. He leapt on his teammates, and together they crashed down to the mud. The ball of light flashed overhead. They felt the immense heat coming off as it passed right through the base of a tree, and the timber began to fall.

  "Up!" Shaw pulled Pope up, and they ran on as the tree crashed down at their backs.

  "What the hell is that thing shooting at us!"

  "No fucking idea!" Shaw yelled.

  They burst out of the trees and into what looked like a wide opening.

  "Shit!"

  Shaw slid to a halt, realising it was a cliff edge. He could not stop quickly enough and one foot tumbled over. Before he vanished over the edge, a hand reached out and grabbed hold of his left hand. His pistol flew out of his hand, and he crashed against the rock face, but Copeland had saved him. He looked down to see a fifty-metre drop into a fast flowing river below, which glistened from the moonlight. Shaw knew there wasn't much chance of surviving if he fell, and he lost all thought of whatever was hunting them.

  "Help me get him up!" Copeland hollered.

  Pope reached out for his other hand and hauled him back. He was dragged over the edge and up to his feet.

  "Thanks."

  Before he could speak another word, a pulse of light struck Pope in the chest. He was launched over the edge, his cry echoing out as he fell. Shaw looked over the edge to see him vanish into the river. There was another glimmer of movement, and a bolt of light flashed out, striking Wilcox at the neck. He went down dead. In the flashes of light, Shaw could make out the silhouette of a figure. At the same time he saw Pope's M240 where he had put it down to give him a hand. He reached down and picked up the hulking weapon. He squeezed the trigger and held it down, firing from the hip. Copeland joined in and went through several magazines as they lit up the woods.

  Shaw screamed at the top of his voice, laying waste to everything before him. He let the anger inside flow out. He had no idea what was stalking them, but it had killed his friends, and that is all he needed to know. Finally, the belt ran out, and the forest fell silent once again, the last gunshots echoing. Copeland looked to Shaw.

  "Did we get them?"

  An eerie cry rang out as if a creature was suffering, but it was like nothing either of them had heard before, as if it were from another world.

  "What the fuck?" Copeland gasped.

  A small metal object flew into his neck, and he dropped down to his knees, grasping his throat and collapsing to the dirt. Shaw was alone now, the M240 empty, his rifle and pistol gone. He was distraught and yet angry. His fear had gone, accepting his fate as he looked at the bodies of his friends.

  "You want me!" He beat his chest and screamed, "You want me? I am right here!"

  His voice carried far and wide, echoing around him. The rain was the only other thing he could hear.

  "Come on! Come out here and face me, asshole!"

  A figure suddenly emerged from the woods, cast against the blackness of the forest. He was unable to make out who or what it was.

  "Come on!" he yelled angrily.

  A flash of light erupted. It struck him in the chest and launched him back. He flew off the edge of the cliff without any hope of saving himself from the fall. He was plunging downwards.

  This is the end. This has to be the end!

  He fell further and further.

  Chapter 2

  Fort Campbell

  Captain Rains watched a small jet taxi up to the hangar. He waited inside as the rain hammered down. The aircraft was civilian and unmarked, and completely out of place with the military hardware around him. He was alone, not even any ground crews were waiting for the aircraft. It finally came to a halt, and the stairs came down. Two soldiers appeared at the door, deep in conversation and laughing. Three more men followed soon after, and then a sixth and final man. He was a little older than the rest, and lacked their enthusiasm. He looked angry and tired from a hard job as he stopped to light a cigar at the top of the steps. He was Master Sergeant Jack Ross.

  His gear was coated in a thick dust, well worn from the operation they had just come from, and with a small cut on his cheek. He had a strong square jaw, clean-shaven, and hair cut short on the back and sides. As he spotted the Captain he groaned, knowing there was no good reason for him to be there. Rains strode out into the pouring rain to greet them.

  "Everything okay, Sir?" asked one of Ross' team.

  "Tomorrow's debrief can wait."

  "Sir?"

  "You're needed for something else," he replied as Ross finally reached him.

  The team groaned, but they didn't try and fight it and carried on to the hangar. Ross went with them, forcing the Captain to follow beside him.

  "I'm sorry about this, Jack, but we need you."

  "Three-day op, our feet just touched the ground, and you want us going back out there?"

  "If there was another way, I'd give your team the break they deserve."

  "Yeah? Then send someone else. Patterson is always looking for some ass to kiss."

  "He's already on assignment. They all are."

  Ross stopped and finally looked at the Captain.

  "All? All of the teams are active?"

  "Yes."

  "What the hell's going on?"

  "Half of them are still not back from current ops. You're the first."

  "And the rest?" Ross snapped.

  "I wish I could tell you. We've had all kinds of weird things going on."

  "Weird?"

  "Distress calls. Requests for help from the National Guard in four states. Reports of firefights all over."

  "What are you saying? What is going on here?"

  "I wish I could tell you."

  Ross was getting more and more irate. He was tired and didn't much like being messed about with.

  "All right, let's start with what you can tell me. You must have some eyes in the sky?"

  The Captain shook his head. He looked sheepish as if ashamed to have to say as such.

  "What the hell is going on here? You've got the best resources in the world. Satellites, drones, aerial recon, where is it?"

  "One satellite is down. Weather conditions are limiting the use of another. We have sent aerial recon craft to several reported areas and lost contact with them."

  "Lost contact? For how long?"

  "Several hours. Something is going on here, but nobody knows what. I've got the brass on to me every five minutes."

  "What is this, some kind of cyber attack?"

  "I wish I could tell you more, Jack, but we just don't know. But until we do, all birds are grounded."

  "All right, then, what do you want me to do?"

  "There was a live fire training exercise last night, led by Major Boyd, about fifty klicks from a small town called Wood Point."

  "All right?"

  "We've not heard anything from Boyd or the teams. They should have reported in hours ago."

  "Comms failure?"

  "Negative. Even if that were the case, they should have made it back here hours ago."

  "What aren't you telling me?"

  The Captain looked uneasy, but Ross only had to glare at him a little longer for him to give up.

  "You think the Major would be out on an exercise like that?"

  "Hell, no."

  "We have intercepted some strange messages from the locals recently, and the Major wanted to check it out for himself."

  "With a rookie team?"

  "They may not be up to your standard, but Boyd took one of the finest platoons on base out with him. You now know as much as I do. I know you guys have been stretching thing lately, but we need answers. Are you up for this?"

  "Have to be, won't I?" He threw down his cigarette, stamped it out, and strode into the hangar after his team.

  "Everyone is grounded for now until we work out what the hell is going on."

  "You let us land?"

  "You were already in the air when all this went down, you didn't think it was quiet around here?"

  "Okay, but what kind of op is this?"

  "It's whatever it needs to be."

  "So no intel, we go to their last known location, and work from there, is that what you're telling me?"

  He didn't respond, but that much was clear.

  "Look, I don't know what else to tell you, but something is going down. I have reached out to everyone I can, but nobody really knows anything. Right now all these things are considered isolated incidents until investigations conclude otherwise. But Major Boyd was on to something before any of this began, and I want to know what. Can I count on you?"

  "Yes, Sir," he replied with a groan as if angry it even needed asking.

  He went over to his team as the Captain left them.

  "What's going on here, Jack? Haven't we done enough?"

  "The truth is the Captain doesn't know."

  "Doesn't know what?" Max asked.

  "What we're dealing with. Major Boyd and a platoon he took out with him are missing. Some o
ther strange shit is going down across the country, and the Captain thinks it's linked."

  "So what is this, a rescue op?"

  "I don't know what it is. Sounds like a clusterfuck to me."

  "Then what do we prepare for?"

  Ross took a deep breath.

  "We prepare for everything."

  * * *

  Liberty Football Stadium

  Town of Wood Point

  "You got this, Shaw!"

  His head wasn't in the game.

  "Shaw! Lee!" Sam yelled.

  Lee finally snapped out of it. The quarterback hadn't been on form all game, and now they were down and rapidly running out of time.

  "Lee!" Shaw slapped him, "Come on, man, you're supposed to be leading this fucking team."

  He looked back at the scoreboard. They had just one chance.

  "What's the play here?" Sam asked.

  "I'm throwing wide. You better run for your damn life."

  "I can do that," he replied with a smile, looking out to his girl in the audience.

  "You see that, that's worth winning for." Sam pointed to Emma Tyler. She was clapping and jumping up and down with anticipation of the last nail biting moments of the game. Lee was looking at her, too, and he couldn't help but agree. She was worth winning it for.

  "All right, we didn't come out here to lose. Give it all you got, and, Sam, you better run like a mother fucking race horse."

  "You got it, Boss."

  Everything finally came together for Lee. He drowned out the sounds of everything around him; time seeming to slow down as he focused on every flinch and subtle shift of movement in those before him. The time finally came. He backed off and watched Sam launch forward like a thunderbolt. He backed off further and further as the opposition closed in on him. His focus was perfect, his breathing calm. He reached back, knowing he had a second or two before he was obliterated. He launched the ball, a perfect spiral, sending it forward like a bullet, as flat as it could be to cover the distance. But his legs went out from under him as he was hit by what felt like a freight train. Sam sped down the pitch. His speed couldn't be matched, and he and the ball connected at the finish line. Horns rang out in celebration as Lee got back to his feet, and two fellow teammates hoisted him up onto their shoulders.

  Cheers rang out across the small stadium. It was a seniors school game, but it could have been the NFL to them as they celebrated like champions. Emma burst out onto the pitch and leapt on to Sam. The smile on Lee's face faltered. They both won the game, but he'd got the girl.

  "I guess the quarterback doesn't always get the best pickings?" joked the player who had tackled him.

  Lee groaned.

  "Piss off," he snarled.

  The coach had run onto the pitch as well and patted him on the back.

  "Way to go, you really pulled your shit together out there."

  Lee nodded in agreement.

  "Keep throwing like that, and we're gonna own this season."

  He didn't particularly care about that. He wasn't in it for the sport. He didn't even enjoy it all that much anymore. He'd come this far to impress her. The one girl he couldn't have, and it was made all the worse to see one of his best friends with her. It wasn't quite the celebration he really wanted, and that put a downer on things as he headed for the showers.

  "Coming for a few beers at Mikey's?" one of the team asked Sam as he hurriedly put on some clean clothes. It was Foster, who was perpetually fooling around and smiling.

  "Sorry, I got other kinds of celebrating to do," he replied with a smile.

  "Lee?"

  "Yeah, sure, why not," he replied solemnly.

  "Well, don't get too pumped about it, jeez."

  "It's been a long day. But you know me, I'm coming."

  "Cheer up. We just kicked ass," said Sam.

  Lee nodded in agreement as Sam patted him on the shoulder and rushed out of the changing rooms.

  "Winner, woo!" Sam screamed excitedly. He burst out the door and found Emma eagerly anticipating him.

  "That was incredible out there."

  "Yeah, well, it wasn't just me. We've got a hell of a team."

  "But you won the game, Sam."

  "Yep, I suppose I did." He smiled and hugged her close.

  "You want to get out of here?"

  "Sure."

  He rushed to the car park. It was quietening down now; much of the small crowd had already left. His car was awaiting him. A black five-year-old Mustang, polished to perfection. His pride and joy. He fired up the engine, and his smile widened further. Emma smiled at how happy he was.

  "What are you smiling at?"

  "Just you, you're beaming."

  "You kidding me? A great game, you by my side, this badass ride. Life is great."

  "You know you keep going like this and you could go pro."

  "You think so?"

  "I do."

  "When did you become a football expert?"

  "Hey, I watch as much of it as you do."

  He laughed.

  "Yeah, fair enough. So where'd you fancy going?"

  "Somewhere quiet," she said with a cheeky smile.

  "Yeah?" he asked in amazement.

  But he didn't need to ask again. He slipped the shifter into gear and floored the gas. They stormed out of the parking lot, leaving Lee watching them go from the far side of the lot. He sighed, knowing what he was missing. He had everything, but her.

  "There are other girls out there, you know," said Foster.

  Lee jumped as he had thought he was alone.

  "What?"

  "You dig her. Emma, but she ain't yours, and that's not the way we roll. You know that."

  "It's not like that."

  "Come on, you can't bullshit a bullshiter. She's the hottest thing in school, and she's even nice. A guy could spend a lifetime with a girl like that. So don't bullshit me. We all want a girl like Emma."

  He shrugged, as it was hard to disagree.

  "Come on. Cold beer is waiting for us."

  He watched the headlights of the Mustang vanish into the night as the car went up over the mountain North of the stadium. Emma was giggling with joy as Sam took fast hairpin bends, the tail end sliding out. The engine roared as he carried them through each bend, in control, but pushing the limits. They went over the crest of the mountain, and the road opened up straight and long before them.

  "Right, then."

  He turned up the music and put his foot to the floor. They blasted past a hundred miles per hour in no time at all, both loving every minute of it as they soared out into the wilderness. Where nobody would bother them. Nobody would be out there at night, just the way they wanted it. Eventually, he pulled off down a side road and took them out to a dead end viewing point looking out across the North. It was always bustling in the day and when the weather was nice, but it was deserted right now as they drew to a halt under the stars.

  "This is perfect," said Emma, marvelling at the view. It was still soaking wet from the recent torrential rain, but it looked all the more luscious for it.

  "Pretty great, huh?" Sam asked.

  She reached over and kissed him, but recoiled as she felt something metallic in the waistband of his trousers.

  "Hey, what the hell is that?"

  He lifted his shirt up to reveal a pistol tucked into his trousers.

  "A gun? What the hell do you need a gun for? You're a football player, not a gangster," she protested.

  "Hey, it's just for fun. Sometimes the guys and me come out here and let off a few rounds. It really is fun, you know."

  She didn't look convinced.

  "It really is fun, Emma. You'd like it, Come on." He was determined to convince her. He opened the door and got out of the car.

  "Hey, where are you going?" she asked worriedly.

  "Come on, I'll show you. You're gonna love it." He went around the car and opened her door. He helped her out, but she didn't look at all convinced.

  "Hey, come on, Sam. We could get in trouble."

  "With who? There’s nobody around for miles and miles. We aren't bothering anyone."

  "Can we get back in the car? Please, Sam."

  He wouldn't take no for an answer and drew out the pistol.

  "You ever fired one of these?"

  She shook her head.

  "You're scared of it because you never have."

  "I don't like guns."

  "That's okay. They just take a little getting used to."

  "I don't want to get used to them, Sam."