Sergeant Drake was very cold.
Having his entire body except his head covered in a foot a snow wasn't helpful for his body heat, but necessary for his survival.
He held his breath, as he watched the Chimeran patrol, made up of six hybrids armed with the projectile weapons commonly known as bullseyes, cross the road heading towards the hill, right for him. His rifle, an Mk. 6 carbine was in his hand, covered with a cloth to prevent the snow from damaging it. If the hybrids spotted him though, it would be no help at all. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they found him; plenty of soldiers told stories and none of them had happy endings.
They were very close now, he could smell the putrid scent of rotting flesh that they gave off, and right now while lying on his stomach, and unable to move his arms without being spotted, he had to bite his tongue to suppress the bile.
The sight of them was almost as bad as the smell. They were ugly bastards, though they were bipedal and walked much like a human, the similarity ended there. They had enormous fangs instead of teeth, a huge animal like musculature, six darting yellow eyes with no pupils, and pale light brown or black skin.
The last time he had seen one this close up, it had nearly torn one of his arms clean off, and only a quick thinking soldier was able to save him. As they walked past him, not more than ten feet away, he gritted his teeth, suppressing his body's instinct to raise the rifle and gun the bastards down. But suddenly one stopped, seemed to sniff the air, and veered away from the rest, turning in his direction. Aw hell he thought the bastard's on to me.
In spite of the warm wool uniform he wore, his hands were trembling as he tightened his finger on the rifle trigger. If it knew where he was, he wasn't going down without taking one of them with him. His luck showed no sign of improving as the alien took another step in his direction, its nostrils flaring as it took another sniff. The Sergeant held his breath as the monster came closer and closer, he noted that the rest of the patrol had not paid any mind to their comrade's distraction. In the brief seconds he had before the hybrid was right above him, he formed a plan. He only had one shot and he had to kill the first without the rest noticing. He slowly moved his other hand to rest on the razor sharp combat knife strapped to his wrist; the snow above him shifted slightly when he did so.
The hybrid was now literally standing right next to him, still sniffing the air, he could hear the slight hissing as it drew and exhaled breath. The other five were about twenty meters away now and none were looking; it was the best opportunity he had. The brid didn't have enough time to raise its projectile weapon or even react in the split second that the Sergeant burst through the snow and sank five inches of cold steel under its chin into its brain. It something unintelligible and then fell limp. Drake freed his knife and ran for the woods.
Then just as he made it to the trees, he heard something he had hoped not to hear. A roar from the patrol as they had undoubtedly found the corpse. He knew that if he was going to survive the next few moments he had to think fast and think smart. A plan started to fall into motion as he watched the remaining five aliens charge across the road. The first part involved a lot of running. The hunt was on.
The hybrids charged into the forest and one caught a glimpse of the white silhouette of the soldier moving through the trees. It let out a bellow and started after the human, eating up the distance between them with its long strides. Twigs snapped as it neared the area where it had seen Drake, charging its way through the tree branches. Its momentum carried it right into the .45 slug from the colt revolver Drake had freed from his holster. It took the bullet in the stomach and it burst out of its back, causing it to roar in pain defiantly. Another bullet blew the weapon out of its hands and rendered its right arm useless. It took the last one in the knee and dropped down bleeding badly but still moving. Drake had to move quickly, knowing the last four would be here in seconds.
The other four hybrids had heard the sound of their comrade in distress and had come as quickly as they could. Not to help the hybrid, but to see if they could pinpoint the humans position. As they came within a few feet of the body, one of the hybrids felt a slight resistance against its shin and heard a click. The tripwire, which had been connected to the grenade pin Drake had secured in some roots had served its purpose. The hybrids froze, only for a split second, but it was too late. The explosion blew small chunks of wood and metal everywhere and the woods fell silent.
Drake slowly approached the clearing and saw happily that the grenade had done its job. Four charred bodies lay slumped on the ground, the wounded hybrid had bled out, and....
The Sergeant hesitated and froze, that was only five.
The hybrid burst out through the bush where it had watched and waited and swung its arm in a vicious clawed swing, the other arm nothing more than a bloody stump still pouring blood. Drake had not been expecting this and although he avoided the claws, he still took the force of the blow full on and fell to the ground, crashing his head against some roots. His rifle had been knocked away and he had no time to pull his revolver.
He could only watch through blurred vision as the hybrid stalked towards him, arm raised, intent on smashing his skull in.
Then suddenly a shot rang out and the hybrid stopped and as quickly as it had been advancing, slumped and fell to the ground. A mixture of blood and brains spattered into the snow from the new exit hole in its forehead.
Drake lay there for a moment before fighting his way to his knees knowing who was approaching before he heard the voice.
"Christ Sarge you had us worried we thought we lost you." Came the voice of Corporal Charles as he came into view from around the fork in a pair of trees where he had taken the shot, rifle still smoking.
The Corporal helped the Sergeant to his feet and continued. "The others are waiting by the river about a two miles East, but I figured you might have run into some trouble and I came back hoping I wouldn't find a corpse."
"Appreciated Charles," Drake grunted. "But we couldn't risk radios and I couldn't get past that patrol as easily as I thought. You should have gone on without me though, if you had gotten yourself killed who would lead the squad?" He paused for a moment, noting the Corporals slightly downcast look. "But thanks."
Charles smiled. He was still a very young man, maybe 20 years old tops and although the squads best shot, he was still very inexperienced. "I still owe you a beer for saving my life back in London sir, I figure we're even now." He commented warmly.
The rest of the trek went without any unwanted occurrences as the two soldiers made their way through the woods and closer to the sound of running water. For the first time that day, although favoring one leg, Drake felt a little at peace.
