Where The Ground Trembles

Blood Flows At Antietam - 05

The forest felt suffocating now, the shadows growing long as the last remnants of daylight disappeared behind the hills. Davis could hear the heavy breathing of the men around him, the metallic clicks of rifles being loaded, the hushed prayers muttered under trembling breaths. The sound of the advancing demons, however, was louder—thudding footfalls, the deep growls of beasts stalking their prey.

"Steady," Davis called out, trying to keep his voice calm, though his pulse raced. The trees offered some cover, but they wouldn't hide them for long. The demons had followed them into the woods, and soon enough, there would be nowhere left to run.

Whitlock crouched next to him, clutching his rifle like a lifeline. "They're coming, Davis. There's no stopping them, is there?"

Davis shook his head, not meeting Whitlock's gaze. "We slow 'em down. Give ourselves a chance to live."

"Fire on my signal!" Dawson's voice echoed through the trees. He had positioned himself with the rest of the men, determined to fight alongside them. Davis respected him for that—young as he was, the lieutenant wasn't about to abandon them.

Then the first demon emerged from the treeline.

It was enormous—its muscular body covered in thick, black scales that reflected the faint green glow from the rifts behind it. Its face was a grotesque mockery of a human's, with burning red eyes set deep beneath a heavy brow. Its mouth opened wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and a low, rumbling growl reverberated through the forest.

"Now!" Dawson shouted.

The crack of gunfire exploded in unison, bullets tearing through the trees and into the demon's hide. It barely flinched. The creature let out a roar and charged forward, smashing through the trees as if they were twigs.

"Fall back!" Dawson yelled, his voice rising above the chaos. "Keep moving!"

The men scattered deeper into the forest, firing as they went, but the demon was relentless, tearing through the underbrush in pursuit. Davis watched as it swung a massive arm, sending two men crashing into the trunks of trees like rag dolls. Their screams were cut short, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

"We can't outrun it!" Whitlock shouted, panic rising in his voice.

"Stick with me!" Davis barked, pulling the younger man along as they dodged between trees. The forest was thick, but it wouldn't hold for long. He could hear the crashing of trees behind them, feel the tremors in the earth as more demons approached.

Just ahead, a ravine cut through the forest floor, deep and steep-sided. Davis spotted it just in time, grabbing Whitlock by the arm and yanking him back before they tumbled over the edge.

"Down there!" Davis pointed. "We can lose it in the ravine!"

They slid down the embankment, mud and roots giving way beneath their feet as they descended. Several of the other men followed, scrambling for safety as the demon tore through the trees above. Davis hit the bottom, gasping for breath, his rifle clutched tight in his hands. Above, the demon snarled, searching for them, but the thick trees and sudden drop seemed to confuse it.

For a moment, Davis dared to hope. Maybe they could lose it after all.

But then a loud crack split the air. One of the trees, already splintered from the demon's rampage, gave way, crashing down into the ravine. Davis barely had time to roll out of the way before it slammed into the ground where he'd been standing.

Whitlock wasn't as lucky.

The tree caught his leg, pinning him down with a sickening crunch. He screamed, clutching at the jagged branches as blood soaked through his pants.

"Jimmy!" Davis rushed to his side, trying to pull the branches off him, but the weight was too much.

The demon above had heard the noise. Its red eyes locked onto them, and with a bone-chilling snarl, it started to descend into the ravine, moving with terrifying speed.

"We have to go!" someone shouted from further down the ravine. It was Sergeant Richardson, waving for them to retreat.

Davis hesitated. Whitlock was pale, his breaths shallow, his eyes wide with pain and fear. "Go," Whitlock rasped, his voice hoarse. "You... you have to go."

"I'm not leaving you," Davis growled, tugging at the tree again. But it wouldn't budge, and the demon was almost upon them now, its massive claws digging into the dirt as it clambered down.

"Davis!" Richardson shouted again, but it was too late.

The demon lunged.

With a final, desperate pull, Davis yanked his knife from his belt and cut the straps of Whitlock's pack. He grabbed the younger man by the collar and dragged him, half-limp, through the mud just as the demon's claws slammed into the ground where they'd been. The earth shook, sending chunks of rock and debris flying, but Davis didn't stop.

They reached the cover of the trees at the bottom of the ravine, where Richardson and a handful of men had taken up defensive positions. Davis collapsed beside them, gasping for air, Whitlock groaning in pain beside him.

The demon roared in frustration, trying to squeeze its massive body through the narrow gap between the trees. Bullets flew, hitting its thick hide, but it only seemed to make the creature angrier.

"We need something bigger," Richardson muttered, loading another shot into his rifle. "These bullets ain't doing a damn thing."

Davis glanced around, searching for anything they could use. His eyes landed on a half-buried artillery shell, likely left behind from some skirmish months ago.

"Cover me," Davis growled, scrambling toward the shell. He dug it out of the dirt with his bare hands, frantically wiping away the mud.

"I'm going to blow that thing sky-high."

Richardson's eyes widened as he realized what Davis was planning, but there was no time to argue. The demon was almost through, its claws raking at the trees, pulling them apart with terrifying strength.

Davis set the artillery shell, jammed a piece of his torn sleeve into the primer hole, and lit it with shaking hands.

"Get down!" he shouted, dragging Whitlock and the others back as far as he could before the shell exploded.

The blast lit up the ravine, shaking the earth with the force of it. The demon let out a deafening roar as the explosion tore through its chest, sending it crashing to the ground in a heap of blood and fire.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Davis sat up, coughing through the smoke and debris, his ears ringing. He glanced around at the other men—alive, but battered. Whitlock groaned in pain beside him, but he was still breathing.

It was over.

For now.