The Few, The Proud, The Undead

IX

Sergeant Torrence emerged slowly from the mouth of the cave, moving cautiously. He surveyed the area around him with prudence, wielding his spear in front of him.

The jungle was deadly silent. It seemed to be closing in on the soldier, surrounding him, keeping him prisoner. Everything felt hostile and malicious.

It wasn't enough to deter the Sergeant. He gripped his spear tighter and searched for the quickest route to the satellite, undaunted.

On his left was a small ravine, protected by dense foliage. The slope looked muddy and steep. He made a point to avoid it.

Suddenly, the air's stillness was broken by the sound of leaves rustling. It was coming from behind Torrence.

He spun around to face the noise, drawing his gun.

There was nothing there.

He paused for a beat before holstering his weapon. He knew something was out there, waiting for him, ready to strike. It was just a matter of time. He'd have to be ready.

His body was shaking with anticipation. His skin was glistening with sweat. He wore an expression of intense terror, looking more like a scared teenage girl in a bad slasher movie than a tough-as-nails soldier. He may have found the willpower to complete his mission, but he still hadn't found the courage.

Torrence took a few more steps forward.

Again, leaves fluttered behind him. The noise startled the soldier, making him drop his spears. When he reached out to save them, his foot slipped in the mud. He toppled backwards through the leafy branches and was sent tumbling down into the ravine.

It was a turbulent fall, and he landed with a violent crash. Sprawled out on the earthen floor, he looked like he was in a world of hurt. The wind was knocked out of him. Blood was pooling in his left ear. He could feel the darkness encroaching, but he fought it off, remaining conscious.

He slapped himself awake, forcing himself to find a way out. Beside him was a muddy stone wall, far too steep to climb. However, there were a number of sturdy branches protruding out from the rock. They were his ticket out.

Torrence bit his lip, fighting through pain, as he rose to his feet. He had a determined look in his eyes. He wiped his mouth with the top of his hand and looked up the slope. He flexed once, took a deep breath, and began climbing.

The incline wasn't very steep, but the muddy terrain made gaining traction difficult. The weary Sergeant tried swinging from one hanging branch to another like an ape, slowly working his way up out of this unfortunate hole.

Finally, he reached the top. By that point he had absolutely no energy left. He had to roll himself up onto to level ground, cursing the clumsiness that made him fall in the first place. He moved like a child's toy robot right before the batteries died. His chest hissed liked a broken accordion as he tried catching his breath.

He wasn't alone. Something monstrous and hideously deformed stood over him, watching. It was an evil, possessed version of Private Vicman. The undead soldier was now nothing more than a charred, still-smoking skeleton, with large, gory chunks of flesh and tissue still clinging tightly to his bones. His body made awful sizzling noises every time he moved, and what little skin remained on his arms seemed to bubble and boil.

Evil Vicman's face was especially terrifying. It was horribly burned, like Freddy Krueger's famously scarred visage, but much more decrepit and with fresher wounds. Most of his skull was exposed, scorched and blackened. The teeth were two rows of massive, slimy fangs, capable of chomping a can of dog food in two. The undead soldier had no eyeballs left, just gaping vacant sockets that were glowing like hot coals.