Tales from the Multiverse

The Terror at Bastonge

The Ardennes, December 20th, 1945
Earth 11.

I risked a peek over the lip of my foxhole. Before me, pines and firs towered high into a thick blanket of fog. Fresh snow covered the hard ground, hiding evidence of the artillery barrage two nights ago. It had been all quiet on the German lines since. A shiver ran down my spine, unrelated to the bone-chilling cold. Perhaps it had found them too.

I wrapped my jacket around myself, an action usually done to provide warmth or comfort; as if anything in this godforsaken place could provide either. I could feel my eyes twitching, a morbid curiosity daring me to look up at the trees. The very idea of what I could see sent anxiety prickling along my arms. I never thought I'd fear something more than German shells out here.

"Harris, you in there?" Came a hushed whisper.

My heart leapt into my throat as I snatched up my rifle. "Wh...who's there?" I croaked. My hands were shaking, sending the barrel whirling in different directions.

"It's Mesh," was the reply.

I squeezed the trigger slightly. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek, feeling oddly warm against the piercing cold. "Prove it," I demanded.

"God damn it, Harris, let me in. We're freezing our balls off out here."

I wanted to believe this was my friend, if only not to be left alone in the dark, but we could never be certain these days. I kept my rifle levelled at the dark, just in case. "Come in, slowly."

A pair of hands appeared over the edge of my foxhole. "Don't shoot, you damn rube." It was definitely Mesh. A second later, his blocky head appeared, complete with his shit-eating grin. He gave me a wink, waved to some others I couldn't see, then slid down next to me.

"This cold is doing me in, man," the Brooklyn native said. "I can barely see my prick when I pee."

Another man slid down next to us, bringing a mini landslide of snow with him. "Yeah, but you can barely see that thing at the best of times." It was Nolan. He shouldered his Springfield rifle and crawled towards the edge of the hole to give the last man, Gus, room to enter.

"Any luck with your scope tonight?" I asked.

Nolan huffed back at me. "I haven't looked through this thing since...well...since Garret was taken."

Gus shifted uncomfortably next to me. "Why'd you have to bring that up?"

Nolan shrugged. "He asked."

"Any word from HQ?" Mesh asked as he patted down his pockets, presumably for a cigarette.

I shook my head. "No idea. Last I heard, the wires were still down." Nolan clicked his tongue. "Did the weather mess them up again?" Mesh let out a snort of humourless laughter. "No. Something chewed through them."

Gus raised a hand. "No, no. no. Base camp has been destroyed, last I heard." My head snapped his way. I could feel a tiny sliver of fear digging into my brain. Had we lost our chain of command?

"Where'd you hear that?" Mesh inquired, nose curling up in disbelief, the same clawing panic I felt could be seen creeping into his eyes.

"Compton told me," Gus said.

Nolan sighed. "He hasn't been right since..." I raised a hand and clicked my fingers. "No, shut up. It's cold enough out here without adding that to it. Just...no."

Mesh reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled cigarette, a satisfied grin on his face. "There you are, you beautiful thing." He held it up like a trophy. "Hey Harris, have you got any matches?"

"Only for emergencies."

Mesh clicked his tongue. "This is an emergency, buddy. Just trying to enjoy this smoke. That's the only silver lining to being out here, the Army provides you with all the smokes you'll ever need."

"Not much use if you're eaten," Gus said.

I felt my brows knit up. "Why did you have to say that?" I complained.

"Well, it's the truth," Gus bellowed. "There is something in the trees! It's been..."

A loud thud followed by a whoosh interrupted.

"Get down," I screamed as I hunkered down tight against the cold dirt. The men followed my lead, hands over heads; all formal training out the window. There's not much ducking and covering would do but reason never stood well against fear. We held fast, waiting for the thunderous boom which never came.

"Give up, American," A distorted voice shouted from the dark above.

I felt my body go rigid. Fear twisted my insides into a tight ball and closed my throat. I tried to speak. "It...It's here." The panic seemed to flow like a busted dam. I grabbed Gus by his fatigues, twisting his collar in my grip. "It's out there. It's out there!" I sobbed. I couldn't help myself.

A sharp pain exploded across my face, dragging me from my mania. Mesh had slapped me. He put a finger to his lips, his face a stern mask. "Shut up," he hissed as he moved over to me, white knuckling his rifle. "Don't bring it down on us."

I put a hand over my mouth, hoping to silence the sobs that still slipped out. Gus had his rifle ready and Nolan crouched tightly against the foxhole wall, eyes shut hard. His mouth was moving rapidly, yet silently. I figured he was praying. I'd never been a man of God but any help was welcome.

There came a cracking and shuffling overhead. In the pale moonlight, I saw a branch fall through the fog curtain and crash to the ground. It was right above us. Tightening my lips, I cradled my rifle, seeking safety and comfort in the bitter chill of the metal. Another loud whoosh and thump. I couldn't... I couldn't stay here, waiting to die.

I threw my rifle aside and ran. Tears stung coldly on my cheeks and my heart thundered in my chest. The crunch of snow and snap of branches couldn't muffle the sounds of my sobbing. I was being too loud but I couldn't will myself to stop. Was it following me? Oh, God, it is following me. I desperately tried to go faster, urging my legs to go beyond what they were capable of. It's not enough. I don't want to die. All around me, the fog closed in like a net, embracing me in its sightlessness.

I struck something, hard. Pain flared down the side of my face and tiny suns danced in my vision. I heard a grunt, but not from me.

"Was zum Teufel?" The voice said.

German. That was German. I didn't know exactly what was said; something about hell, I think. I reached for my pistol, drawing it and pointing it towards the dark figure. Oddly enough, I felt grateful for the company.

"Show me your hands," I stammered. "Show me your hands!" Company inviting bravery that had not existed mere seconds ago.

The figure went stiff and his hands slowly rose. He cleared his throat and spoke in broken English. "We can't be here. Please," he said, voice shaky. Though whether that was the cold, my gun in his face or something else, I wasn't sure.

"You're a long way from Bastonge, Nazi," I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt. I tried to steady my shaking hand, all the while never taking my eyes off the trees. My fear fighting my training.

"I...ah...the thing..." He couldn't form a proper sentence. I chanced a glance at him and our eyes locked. Between us passed an unspoken understanding that the war could wait another day if only we could survive the night. I opened my mouth to speak when a distorted voice cut the silence.

"I'm going to skin you, Nazi!" It bellowed, followed by some sick mockery of human laughter.

The German squealed and crawled closer to me. "Dämon" He screamed, grabbing at my fatigues. "Run!" That one I understood. Pulling him along with me, we ran.

"You will die!" The voice taunted in the same broken English my companion spoke. It sounded much too close for comfort.

Tears stung my eyes again and I could hear the German sobbing next to me as we thundered through the woods. I could barely see anything, but I didn't care. I just wanted as much distance between me and that thing.

The ground opened up beneath me. For the briefest of moments, I was airborne, then my face was burning. I struck something, hard. Blood spilled over my face, it's warmth surprisingly welcome in contrast to the piercing cold. I had fallen into a foxhole.

I spat a gob of blood into the snow and crawled backwards, pushing myself up against the foxhole. The wall at my back a small comfort. I stared out into the dark, trying to see...anything. It was too complete, an utter void. I heard snow crunching nearby.

"Hey," a voiced whispered. "Where did you go?"

I opened my mouth to answer but stopped. Branches snapped overhead. There was a hissing sound then the crack of a gunshot.

The German screamed something I didn't understand. There were more gunshots and bright flashes as he emptied his own pistol into the tree tops. More gunshots followed, without the flashes this time as...the thing...mocked us. It said something in German and the soldier screamed. I wanted to go and help him but my legs wouldn't move. There was a rapid snapping of branches and a wet thud. The German screamed. All too quickly, there was silence.

I could hear my heart hammering in my ears, my whole body shook. I don't know how long I waited like that for. Part of me knew this was my chance to get away but I couldn't stand to draw attention to myself in case one of us may not have been enough.

For much too long, the sounds of chewing and ripping filled the air. I never thought I'd hate a sound more than howitzers. The impenetrable dark was too much for me. I waited for as long as I could, the void of night giving no hint of existence around me; mercifully though, the sounds of chewing had stopped.

A warm rush of air,accompanied by the smell of decay and rot, wafted over my face. My hands shook,my lips trembled. I think I wet myself, but I couldn't be sure.

I reached a hand into my jacket and fetched the matchbox. They clattered aroundinside as my shaky hand pushed it open and snatched one. I struck it across thestrip and, as it hissed to life, instantly regretted my decision.

A reptilian face sat inches from mine. It had sharp, yellow fangs exposed bycracked lips. The snarled face dripped saliva onto the snow. Slitted nostrilsmoved rapidly and cat-like eyes sized me up with a level of intelligence Ihadn't seen in an animal. Four tails, each tipped with a razor spike, slitheredaround behind it. Slits and flaps on its muscular neck vibrated as it sucked inair, like an orator taking a breath before a speech.

"Don't bring it down on us," It whispered.


****

I was grateful that the fog had lifted slightly this morning. I hadn't seenHarris since he ran from the foxhole last night and I was desperate to findhim. Friggen rube. Why did he have to run off?

"Mesh?" Nolan said.

"Yeah? I'm over here." I replied.

"We found him."

Relief flooded through me in a wave that soon soured as his tone registered. Ohno. I turned and ran towards where his voice had come from. They came into viewas a group of dark shapes at first then, as I got closer, became recognisable.Nolan and Gus were huddled around a foxhole.

As I approached, I noticed a wide smear of red next to it. Bits of what Iimagine were body parts lay scattered around and spent bullet casings werestrewn here and there. A Luger pistol was discarded among the viscera. I hadalways wanted to collect one, as a trophy, but not like this. Something aboutthis just...wasn't right.

I reached the others and my heart sank. Despite knowing in my soul that Harriswas gone, it was another thing completely to see it. His body lay on its side,abdomen torn open. His insides had been pulled out and I was sure at least oneof his organs was missing. His face was the most unsettling part. It wastwisted into an inhuman expression of terror. Terror so complete and whole Icould almost feel his final moments.

"Shit!" I yelled and kicked my boot into the ground. "I knew I should've goneafter him." I turned to Gus. "Didn't I say I should go after the prick?" Gusremained silent. Fighting his own internal guilt, I imagine.

Nolan stood up and shouldered his rifle. "Mesh, you need to go and find thecaptain. Tell him what's happened."

I threw my arms up. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? Nobody knows ifbase camp is even still in one piece."

He turned on me, brows pulled down in anger. "Then go and find out!"

I huffed and turned on my heel. I knew he was just mad about Harris and blaminghimself, like the rest of us. I stormed off, both angry and thankful for thechance to get away from that horrid sight. I wandered on for a bit when asudden shuffling above me caught my attention. A memory of Gus talking aboutthe trees last night flickered through my mind. I looked up; rifle ready. Thefog bank hid everything from sight. A voice whispered down to me...

"Got any matches?"