The Few, The Proud, The Undead

VII

The two soldiers marched for hours through the heavy brush, moving deeper and deeper into the forest. The woods were incredibly thick. It would have been difficult to navigate in the middle of the day, but at night in the dark, it was damn near impossible.

Private Vicman hobbled along the entire way, without once complaining or asking to slow down. The Sergeant was impressed with his determination, but knew that the wounded soldier wouldn't last much longer.

Far behind them, Evil Buff's arm was following. It slithered through the grass like a snake, pulling itself along with its fingers. Torn muscles and chunks of bloody gore trailed out the severed end.

Eventually, Torrence and Vicman found a clearing in the woods and walked through it. The wide open space was a brief oasis from the crowded jungle.

The two men looked up at the night sky and marveled. It was the first light they'd seen in a while, and it felt like salvation.

The clearing led out to a massive hill, which sloped down steeply to a raging river. The Sergeant was thrilled. This meant that not only were they on the right path, they were incredibly close to the satellite. He started walking faster.

Exhausted, Vicman collapsed onto the ground. He held his wounded arm, groaning and wincing.

"Alright, it's starting to hurt now," he said.

Torrence dug into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. He spun off the lid and knocked two tiny yellow pills into his hand. He passed them over to Vicman.

"Here, these will make you feel better. Take two."

The Sergeant looked down at Vicman's mangled hand, wrapped in a green Army-issued jacket. Blood was pouring out like oil from a grounded tanker.

He thought for a moment, and then knocked two more pills into his palm. He handed those to the Private as well.

"On second thought, take four."

Vicman didn't ask any questions. He popped all of the pills into his mouth, took a swig from his canteen, and swallowed them all at once. He leaned back and rested his head against the ground. Calm slowly passed over his face as the pills took effect.

He tried to speak. His voice was raspy and faint.

"Sergeant," he said, struggling, "I can't feel my hand." His eyes began to flutter.

"Come on, Vicman," Torrence screamed, impatiently. "Stay with me!"

He slapped the Private on the side of the face.

Instantly, Vicman's eyes shot open.

"I never liked Buff, sir," he blurted out, inexplicably.

Torrence laughed. "It wasn't Buff that did this to you, Private. Now let's see that wound."

He lifted up Vicman's tattered arm and propped it on his knee. He tried slowly peeling off the bloody jacket, but the gooey gore made the material stick together. With as much care as he could, he pulled off two layers, exposing skin.

A sudden spurt of blood shot up and splattered Torrence in the face. Reflexively, he dropped Vicman's arm.

The Private let out a blood-curdling scream that could be heard miles away.

***

Evil Buff heard it. He was still possessed by a demonic beast, and still hanging from a tree, entangled in a web of his own intestines. He was stuck, howling helplessly.