SNAFU: Hunters

Ngu’Tinh D.F. Shultz

The creature was just a few paces away, slinking in Nathan’s direction through the foliage. It looked like a ten-feet-tall praying mantis, only with smooth skin like a reptile, and a tiny, eyeless head. It moved slowly, hunting its prey.

Senses heightened by adrenaline, Nathan was acutely aware of his surroundings. The lapping of the nearby river; the buzzing of insects; a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He felt the weight of the CAR-15 in his hands, the feel of his finger on the trigger.

Palm leaves quivered as the creature brushed past within arms-reach. He steadied the assault rifle; how did I get myself into this shit? Only a few days earlier he’d been safe on base, drinking with the rest of the team in their makeshift bar. There had been a lot of talk lately about casualties. Inside the repurposed army tent, Nathan listened to snippets of drunken chatter.

“Got him when we went to take a piss.”

“Found ‘em ripped to shreds.”

“Just like the others.”

“Disappeared in the trees. Not a goddamn trace.”

There were a few other SEALs at the table with Nathan: Leon, Simon, Buck Williams, and the ‘Professor’. They’d called him that since finding out he’d quit his PhD to join the squids. Bao, their translator, was also there. Nathan suspected Bao was the smartest man in the room.

“I heard it was alligators,” said Leon.

“You mean a crocodile,” said the Professor. “They don’t have ‘gators in Nam.”

“The fuck’s the difference?”

“It wasn’t a croc’,” Nathan said. “Prob’ly some VC guerillas. They know how to use the river and the trees.”

“What about the bodies? They’re all mangled like an animal got ‘em.”

“Sometimes the VC string men up to the trees,” Nathan said, “keep ‘em alive and pull their guts out.”

“The screams help draw in men for an ambush,” the Professor added.

An angry-looking marine walked up to the table. “It’s not like that,” he said. “We just find ‘em torn up, pieces missing.”

“God—” Simon shook his head. “Why?”

“My guess is intimidation,” Nathan said. “They’re trying to put us on edge.”

“Bastards,” Leon spat.

“They won’t get away with this,” Simon said through gritted teeth.

“That’s just the thing, though,” the marine said, bitterness edging into his voice. “We haven’t been able to get authorization to do anything about it, and we don’t have any actionable intel’. But we heard about you SEALs. Word is you might have the skill-set and operational freedom to track these guys down and take ‘em out.”

“Well if you’re looking for a hunter,” Simon said, “Nathan’s your man.”

“You know, it’s funny.” Nathan set down his beer. “I never was a big fan of hunting.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Simon said with a laugh.

“It’s true,” Nathan said, leaning back in his chair. “I remember the first time I took down a deer. My dad was there, congratulating me, patting me on the back. I knew how I was supposed to feel, but it’s not how I felt.”

“Sad you took out Bambi or something?” Leon asked, and the rest of the SEALs laughed. “You got a soft spot we don’t know about?”

“Nah,” Nathan lied, because that was part of it. “That deer was too easy to track, too easy to shoot. I never liked hunting animals. It just felt like cheating.”

Leon laughed. “That’s one way to brag. You should teach classes in that shit.”

The SEALs looked back at the marine, who stood silent and unblinking beside their table.

“You want somethin’?” Leon asked.

“The name’s Chris Donaldson,” he said, and the others introduced themselves. “I never wanted to come to Nam, but I signed up when my little brother got drafted. Thought maybe I could keep him safe. His name was Bradley.”

Bradley Donaldson. Nathan remembered the name. A young kid, 18-year-old marine. Two weeks ago they’d found his body by the river. What was left of it anyway.

Before Nathan could speak, they were interrupted by barking and yelling outside the tent. The SEALs leapt from their table and ran outside.

The chained guard dog, Rex, had got himself a piece of the pant-leg of a uniformed army officer. The man was sprawled on the ground, struggling to pull the fabric from the growling dog’s teeth.

“Get this thing off me,” he shouted.

“Down, Rex.” Buck pulled the dog by the collar then offered the man a hand up.

“Sorry about that, Chief,” Nathan shouted to the officer across the dirt clearing. “You wanna come inside for a drink?”

The man glared.

“What’re you doin’, Nathan?” Professor whispered from behind. “That’s General Cain.”

“General? But he’s got one star.”

“Those are army ranks, you dumb fuck.”

Shit.

“You—” the General pointed at Nathan, “come with me.” The man turned on his heel and marched towards the center of base camp.

The army was in charge of this region. The Navy SEALs were guests here, and it didn’t seem like their presence was much appreciated by some of the higher-ups. Rex’s attack on General Cain was probably not helping things — their makeshift bar was against regs, and Nathan’s disrespect might’ve just solidified their reputation with the brass.

Nathan ducked into the General’s office.

“I’ve heard all about you SEALs,” General Cain said, sitting at his desk. “You’re assassins.”

“We’re here to serve,” Nathan said.

“We’ve got this area under control,” the general said, his nostrils flaring. “We don’t need any outsiders sneaking around at night, killing from the shadows. I want you all to sit tight and let us work.”

“Understood.” Nathan nodded, but with the casualties mounting from an unseen VC squad, Nathan doubted whether Cain really did have control over the area. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“By all means,” the general said but Nathan doubted the man meant it.

“All the guys on the team will tell you they joined to serve their country, and it’s true. But there’s a lot of ways to serve your country, and they chose to join the SEALs. The real truth is they signed up for the action, and if you tell ‘em they can’t operate, there’s gonna be a lot of pent-up energy they’re gonna have to release somehow.”

Nathan pretended he was talking about his men, but he was really talking about himself — he didn’t come here for a vacation.

“Is that some kind of a threat?”

“Absolutely not. But these men have pushed themselves to the limit to come here. They’ve gone through hell, and more training than most people can imagine. It would be a shame to waste that talent.”

Nathan could tell he wasn’t going to change the general’s mind. On the way out, the general added, “Get rid of that fucking dog.”

Nathan brought the bad news back to the SEALs.

“What did you say to him?” Buck asked.

“Nothing,” Nathan said. “He’d already made up his mind about us.”

“So we’re supposed to just sit around and jack off all day?” Leon asked. “What is this bullshit? And what about the VC? People are getting killed out there.”

“I’m as pissed about it as you are,” Nathan said, “but it’s politics.”

They were supposed to sit on their asses, so they did for the next few days. A few more bodies were found, mangled like all the rest, a look of terror frozen in the eyes of those who still had them.

It was midday when the Professor came running to Nathan.

“Nathan,” he shouted, “we need you at the docks.”

“What’s up?” he asked, automatically reaching for his sidearm.

“It’s Deacon.”

Deacon worked on a special program with the SEALs, training freshwater river dolphins for underwater ops. Getting them to detect explosives, maybe even place them. The dolphins had better noses than any machine for detecting explosives, and they seemed to love the work.

Buck and Nathan ran to the docks and saw Deacon on his knees. In front of him lay the body of one of the dolphins, a former dolphin now, fileted just like the human victims.

“They killed Glenn,” Deacon shouted, rage pulsing from the man. “Nathan, you hear me? They killed Glenn.”

“How’d this happen?” Nathan asked gently, knowing he needed a calm Deacon if he was going to get to the bottom of this.

“I sent the three of ‘em on a training run down the river. They’ve done it plenty of times before. But this time they didn’t come back. When I went to find ‘em—” Deacon stopped and looked at the dolphin pieces.

“And the others?”

“I only found Glenn.” Deacon shook his head. “Rob and Billy are missing. Their trackers are offline.”

“They could still be alive,” Nathan said. “Maybe the trackers are out of range.”

“What’re we gonna do?” the Professor asked. “We gotta do something about this, right?”

“We’re running an op,” Nathan said. “Tonight.”

Leon wrinkled his brow. “To look for a couple of fuckin’ dolphins?”

Deacon’s face flashed with anger, and he swung a hard right. Leon brought his arm up just in time, and the fist struck with a dulled slapping sound. Then punches were flying from both men.

Nathan held back Deacon, and the Professor stood between him and Leon.

“Cool it,” the Professor said.

“Jesus,” Leon shouted at Deacon. “The fuck’s your problem?”

“You’re an asshole,” Deacon said.

Leon had a habit of pushing people’s buttons, seeing what he could get away with, but now was not the time.

“We consider those dolphins part of the team,” Nathan said.

“An expensive part,” the Professor added. “Dollar for dollar, those dolphins are about four times as valuable as us.”

“Besides,” Nathan said, “I think it’s time we secured the river.”

“But what about the general?”

“Fuck ‘im. We’ve got a job to do.”

The team made their way back to the operations tent, cleared the table then laid out their intel, plotting the previous attacks and looking for patterns.

“How’re we gonna find these guys?” the Professor asked. “The marines sweep the area constantly and they haven’t found jack.”

“That’s just the problem,” Nathan said. “They do these big daylight sweeps with forty-plus men. Anyone could hear ‘em coming a mile away. But at night, with a smaller team-”

“So where do we look?” Deacon jumped in.

“They’re taking the water.” Nathan pointed to a river on the map; the attacks formed a rough pattern that traced along its course. “They’ve prob’ly got a camp upriver. We just need to sit tight around here and wait for ‘em to pass by. We leave tonight. Try to get some sleep before then.” Of course, none of them would.

They met at the docks in the dark of night. The team checked their weapons, loaded gear into the inflatable Zodiac then hopped inside. Nathan would’ve felt safer in a Mike Boat, but they had to keep a low profile.

Nathan was the point man; Buck the radio man. Their translator, Bao, was there just in case they grabbed a VC for interrogation. Leon and Simon were the coxswains. Deacon, Kyle, Bentley, and the Professor rounded out the nine-man team.

Nathan took a moment to size up his squad’s killing power. His weapon was a CAR-15 with a 40mm grenade launcher and plenty of rounds, canister and high explosive. Bentley carried an M3 machinegun and a 7.62mm Chicom pistol. Deacon and Kyle each carried M79s with the XM-148 40mm grenade launcher attachment. They had about twenty of the soda-can sized grenade rounds between them: high-frag, buckshot, smoke canopy, and an experimental XM-463 stealth round. The Professor carried an SKS semi-auto rifle and a .38 combat masterpiece; very professorial. Leon and Simon carried Stoner 63 assault rifles. Most of the men had a KA-BAR and a couple of M61 hand grenades. Bao carried an AK47, and Buck carried the radio.

Just as they were loading into the zodiac, a shadow moved up from base. It was Chris Donaldson, the marine from the bar.

“What’re you doing here?” Nathan asked.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I couldn’t keep my brother safe, but I can still put a bullet in those VC fucks.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Leon scoffed. “Last time I checked you jarheads weren’t doin’ so hot out there.”

Donaldson faced off with Leon. “Either I’m going with you, or I’m going straight to Cain to let him know about your little operation.”

“You threatening us, dip-shit?”

“Shut up, both of you,” Nathan said. Heads turned towards him, and they waited expectantly for an answer.

“You’re not really considerin’ it, are you? He’ll just get in the way,” Leon said.

“Fuck you,” Donaldson snapped. “I can hold my own.” He turned to Nathan. “I need to do this. For my brother.”

Nathan sighed. “Okay.” It was a bad idea, but agreed anyway — a brother needs vengeance. “Just promise me something: don’t fucking die.”

“Someone’s gonna die tonight,” Donaldson growled, brandishing his M1 rifle, “but it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”

They took it slow out of the docks; picked up the pace when they were well down the river. The ride was a little less than two hours. Steering to the riverbank, they nestled the zodiac into twisting mangrove roots, concealed under dense overhanging branches — perfect spot for an ambush. Bentley and Kyle set the claymores upstream then waited at the river’s edge.

Not too long after, they spotted a sampan coming down river.

“Should I blast ‘em?” Bentley held up the remote detonator.

Nathan shook his head. “Not yet.”

The sampan moved closer until revealing its sole occupant.

“Just one of ‘em?” Bentley said.

“Could be a scout, maybe,” Leon said.

“Put the detonators away,” Nathan ordered. “Let’s ask our man some questions.”

They waited for the boat to close the distance, coming within a dozen yards of their riverside hiding spot.

“Hands in the air,” Nathan shouted.

The team sprang from their positions along the river, weapons drawn.

“Tell him to get over here,” Nathan instructed Bao.

Bao shouted something to the man, who paddled the sampan over to the riverbank. The SEALs grabbed the edge of his wooden boat and pulled it closer, and the man stood with arms raised, eyes wide — terrified.

“Ask him if he’s VC,” Nathan said.

Bao translated, and the man stammered something in reply. “He says he’s not,” Bao said. “He says he’s a hunter. His name is Hiro.”

“A hunter?” Nathan laughed. “Bullshit. What’s he hunting out here at night?”

Bao relayed the question, and Hiro answered with two syllables that sounded like ‘yeow kwai’. The way he said it, cold and stone-faced, sent a chill along Nathan’s spine.

Nathan motioned to the man. “What did he say?”

Bao paused. “Demons.”

“Demons? He really say that?” Donaldson said.

Bao nodded.

“Check his bag,” Nathan ordered.

Kyle grabbed the large sack in the bottom of the sampan, pointed a flashlight inside then rifled through the contents.

Hiro glanced around nervously before speaking in a worried tone, the syllables rushing out.

“He says we’re not safe here,” Bao translated. “He said, ‘the daughters of Ngu’Tinh are in the waters’.”

“New tin?”

“Something like, ‘demon fish’. A myth of Vietnam. Ngu’Tinh is a giant creature with hundreds of legs. It is said to eat fishermen.” Hiro continued rambling while Bao translated. “He says Ngu’Tinh’s daughters live here. Demon-spawn. The river is their feeding ground.”

“Think I found out why he’s so nervous.” Kyle lifted a small vial of rosy-brown liquid from Hiro’s bag in the sampan. “Heroin. He’s got loads of it. Needles and powder, too.”

“Drug runner for the VC?” Bentley guessed.

Nathan shrugged.

Kyle shone the flashlight on Hiro’s face, revealing red blemishes all across his skin. “He’s an addict.”

There was a sudden flash of movement from the overhanging trees — a cracking, thwipping sound. Something large snapped down from the canopy and back up again; just a blur of motion, and Bentley was gone.

“Jesus,” Simon shouted.

The SEALs scanned the motionless canopy, listened to the sudden silence of the forest.

“Bentley?” Nathan called into the trees.

A gurgling sound above.

Bentley fell back down. One piece at a time. Parts plopped into the water — three successive splashes. One landed in the sampan with a hollow, wooden thud.

“Fuck,” Kyle yelled, stepping back from the severed arm. “Jesus, fuck!”

“God damn! Bentley!”

“The hell was that?”

“Anyone see it?”

The men trained their weapons on the canopy. Leaves rustled above. Something was moving fast, sliding through the branches.

“Squad, rapid!” Nathan ordered, and the forest erupted with gunfire. Nathan sprayed the canopy with his CAR-15, and his ears rang as his squadmates unloaded into the foliage.

“Ceasefire!”

The gunfire stopped. Silence, except for the creaking of broken tree limbs, a few branches falling and dropping into the water, some landing on the forest floor.

“Did we get it?” Buck asked.

“I don’t see a body,” Nathan said, “whatever it was.”

“You don’t think he was telling the truth do you?” Kyle motioned to Hiro. “About the demons.”

The men glanced at the Professor.

“Of course not,” he said. “Demons don’t exist.”

“I don’t know about demons.” Nathan kept his eyes on the canopy. “But I’ve never seen anything move that fast.”

“There’s a hundred-and-forty types of snakes in Nam,” the Professor said, “and some of ‘em are twenty-feet long.”

“Just keep your eyes open.”

The men scanned the trees.

Something heavy dropped into the water, splashing down an arm’s length from the sampan. Nathan swung his weapon at the monstrous shape, just a silhouette against the stars. It was ten-feet tall, hunched, a four-limbed thing with a tiny head. The creature had serrated arms that ended in points, like a giant praying mantis.

Nathan fired off a few rounds just as the creature snapped forward, pulled Kyle screaming from the Sampan, and dragged him under the water.

“Jesus!”

“Fuck!”

They scanned the water, weapons ready. Bubbles rose to the surface. Then pieces of Kyle floated up: arms, legs, torso… then his head. His dead face stared upwards, bobbing gently in the water.

“God! It got Kyle.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“What was that thing?”

“Wasn’t a fucking snake.”

“There it is,” Leon shouted. A large ripple moved across the surface, darting left and right, retreating into the distance.

Nathan popped a high explosive canister into the 40mm attachment and levelled the barrel. He trained the weapon on the retreating ripple then fired. THUNK. The round struck the surface and exploded violently. BOOM. The blast sent a splash thirty feet in the air and lit the river like daylight. The shock-wave hit like a wall of wind, then a sheet of water fell across the men, and a wave surged over their feet.

Simon stared at the water. “You got it, right?”

“Maybe,” Nathan said. “But we’re not sticking around to find out.”

“We’re leaving?” Donaldson shouted. “We just found the enemy and you’re gonna run?”

“I don’t know what that thing was, but there could be more of ‘em around. And right now we’re engaging on their terms.” Nathan glanced around. “Into the boat,” he ordered. “Let’s go.”

Leon, Simon, the Professor, and Deacon moved into the Zodiac.

“What do we do about him?” Buck pointed at Hiro; the addict, motionless in the sampan.

“We’ll take him,” Nathan said. “He might know something.”

Buck grabbed Hiro’s arms to pull him from the sampan but the man struggled, shouting in Vietnamese.

“He says leave him here,” Bao translated.

“I got that part.”

“We’ll take his stash,” Nathan said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to come along then.”

Buck grabbed Hiro’s bag and tossed it to Nathan. Hiro screamed, and his head tracked the motion of the bag through the air into Nathan’s waiting hand.

“Come and get it.” Nathan dangled the bag at arm’s length. Hiro leapt from the sampan into knee-deep water. He splashed forwards, lunging through the river to the prize of heroin.

For an instant, a terrifying sensation gripped Nathan. A penetrating tingle in the base of his skull. Primal instinct, subconscious awareness.

Nathan turned and dropped to a knee. He felt the rush of wind as a serrated limb whizzed past overhead — the arm of a creature that stood just a few feet away. Nathan pulled the trigger on his CAR-15, emptying the rest of the magazine into that monstrous green torso. The rounds blew through its body, exploded out its back, and turned its body into green Swiss cheese. The creature leapt into the canopy, oozing from its fresh wounds.

Nathan spun to screams and gunfire. His men were fighting two more of the green horrors. The sampan was painted with a coat of blood and chunks that used to be Buck. There was a flurry of gore where the creature’s arms thrashed like a giant blender working its way over the corpse. The Zodiac was ripped up and deflated, most of its compartments slashed open, and half sunk into the river.

Deacon scrambled back to land, Leon unloaded his stoner, spraying wildly, and Professor fired off a few clean shots with his SKS. Donaldson stood his ground and fired with his M1, yelling like a mad man. Simon was spread across the top of the water in a five-yard radius.

Nathan reloaded and took aim, but the monsters submerged, disappearing into the water. Nathan and Leon provided covering fire, unloading into the river as the squad retreated to the forest. Nathan couldn’t identify the voices shouting over each other in the chaos.

“Go, go, go!”

“They’re in the river.”

“Run.”

“Wait,” Nathan shouted.

“Are you crazy? Why?” Deacon shouted.

“It’s Bao,” Nathan said, moving quickly.

Bao lay prostrate beside the river, partly slumped over mangrove roots. His clothes were soaked in blood, two bullet holes in his torso.

“Shit,” Deacon muttered.

“One of you fucks hit Bao,” Nathan said, and took a knee beside Bao, who groaned, coughing up blood.

“How bad is it?” Deacon asked.

Nathan just shook his head. There wasn’t much he could say.

“Maybe we can radio for an extraction?” Deacon said, sounding defeated.

Nathan motioned to what was left of Buck, their radio man, and the wrecked the sampan. “No radio.”

“My guess is the jarhead shot him,” Leon said.

“Shut up,” Donaldson said. “I prob’ly just saved your ass.”

“Like hell you did.”

“Put a few bullets in that thing behind you,” Donaldson said with a glare. “You would’ve known that if you didn’t lose your shit.”

“He’s right,” Deacon squared off with Leon. “Did you even fuckin’ aim?”

“You’re not gonna blame me for this. We’re only here because of your stupid fucking dolphins.”

“Fuck you.”

“What?” Donaldson raised an eyebrow. “Dolphins?”

“You didn’t know?” Leon asked. “He’s a dolphin trainer for the Navy. They only set up this op’ ‘cause he lost a couple of his pets.”

“Wait a minute. So you wouldn’t come out here when they were killin’ marines — when they killed my brother — but you’d come out here for a goddamn pet fish?”

“Dolphins aren’t fish,” the professor said.

“Shut up.”

There was a flash of motion from behind, and Nathan felt a sudden tug. He turned, ready to shoot, or die trying. But it was only Hiro, the boatman The addict had a tight grip on the bag of heroin looped over Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan wrestled the bag from Hiro’s grip then shoved him back. Hiro tripped on a root and landed on his back.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed? I almost blasted you!”

Hiro spoke calmly, pleading, and motioned to the bag.

“I think he wants a hit.” Deacon stated the obvious.

“Not really the time, is it?”

Hiro continued talking, a stream of unintelligible Vietnamese.

“Hey, I think Bao’s tryin’ to say something,” Deacon said.

Bao groaned.

“What is it, buddy?” Nathan asked his wounded friend. “You should take it easy.”

“He says-” Bao coughed. “If you let him have some he will help you survive.” Leon stifled a laugh, but Bao continued. “He says he knows how to kill the demons.”

“He might know something useful,” the Professor said.

“The hell could he know?” Leon scoffed.

“He must live around here,” the Professor said. “He could’ve learned something about those things, whatever they are.”

“Let him have a hit,” Deacon said. “Let’s see what he knows.”

Nathan hesitated then held out the open bag. Hiro rushed over and reached inside, pulling out a small straw and a tiny plastic bag with white powder before promptly inhaling the contents. He closed his eyes and twitched subtly, then his face relaxed.

“Are you supposed to snort heroin?” Leon asked.

“Sure,” the Professor said. “You can snort it, inject it, smoke it. You can even eat it.”

“Forget that,” Nathan said. “We need to find out what he knows before those things come back. Bao? Bao?”

Bao was motionless.

“Christ.” Nathan shook his head. “Sorry, Bao.”

“Now what? Those things wrecked our ride,” Leon said.

“We’ll walk,” Nathan said. “But first let’s get away from this river. With those things in the water, we’ll be safer moving through the forest.”

They headed out in diamond formation. Nathan took point. Professor took rear security. Leon was on the left, Deacon the right. Donaldson took the centre, escorting Hiro. They marched a long time, deeper into the forest, without speaking.

“Hey Nathan,” Donaldson said. “The boatman wants somethin’.”

“He wants a fix,” Nathan said.

“I don’t think so.”

Nathan stopped and turned. Hiro had a wide-eyed expression. He spoke urgently, fear in his voice, and motioned to the trees.

“What’s up with him?”

“Prob’ly just freakin’ out from the drugs.”

“Probably not,” the Professor said. “Heroin has a calming effect.”

“You think he knows something we don’t?” Donaldson’s voice wavered.

“Nah,” Leon shook his head. “He’s just a junkie.”

Nathan wasn’t so sure. Fear crept along his skin, like the forest was watching him. “Keep your eyes open,” he ordered. His heart beat hard in his chest, and he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. “Something’s out there.”

“He’s pointing at something,” Donaldson said.

Hiro gesticulated towards the forest, an angle halfway between Nathan and Leon.

“What do you see?” Nathan squinted as he stared into the forest. A shape resolved, nearly imperceptible against leafy backdrop. A tall, slender creature stood just two dozen paces away, nearly invisible, seemingly made of glass. Its outline was only visible from the creature’s gentle, hypnotic sway.

“Squad,” Nathan said just loud enough to be heard. “Rapid, on my signal.” He levelled his rifle. The creature cocked its head to the side then leapt into the trees. Nathan fired, bullets tracing the movement of the thing into the leaves. A hail of fire followed from his squadmates; bursts from Deacon and Leon, shots from Donaldson and the professor.

“Ceasefire!” Nathan ordered.

“Did we get it?” Leon asked.

“I don’t think so.” Professor shook his head. “No body.”

“There was just one right?” Donaldson asked.

The men scanned the forest, listening intently. It was deathly quiet. No motion, except for the swaying of leaves in the wind.

“It was standing right in front of us. Shit, man, did you see that?” Leon’s voice wavered.

“It was almost fuckin’ invisible,” Donaldson said.

“My question is,” Nathan said, “how did he know it was there?”

The men glanced briefly at Hiro.

“Is it still around?” Nathan asked Hiro, waving towards the forest. “Is it still out there?”

Hiro seemed to understand. He squinted, ran his eyes over the forest, took a deep breath then pointed. Nathan looked towards the spot but saw only waving leaves.

“Ready,” Nathan said, and the squad aimed their weapons.

“I don’t see shit,” Deacon muttered.

Leon frowned as he peered at the spot. “Where is it?”

“Grenades,” Nathan ordered. Deacon popped a high-frag round into his XM-148, and Nathan loaded a high-explosive. “Fire.”

The team unloaded. Two grenade rounds exploded in the distance, one blasting a sphere of destruction, the other sending a hail of fragmentation through the trees. They emptied their magazines into the forest.

“Ceasefire.”

It was quiet, except for the reloading of weapons. Nathan plugged a canister into his 40mm attachment when something dropped from the trees. It landed forty paces away, crashed flat to the ground.

Nathan signalled to move, pointed to the spot, and the squad advanced in formation. Nathan reached it first, and saw a giant green body splayed on the ground. “We got it,” he said over his shoulder, keeping his weapon trained on the motionless body. The others rushed forward; circled around the fallen creature.

“The hell is that thing?” Donaldson said, disgust thickening his voice.

“Whatever it is,” Leon said, “we really fucked it up.”

There were more than a dozen holes blasted through the creature’s body. Its right arm was severed near the shoulder, and other limbs hung by strands of flesh. Pieces of the creature were scattered around where it fell, and the whole mess sat in a puddle of green liquid and innards.

“Looks like it’s got scales,” the Professor said. “Like a fish.”

“That’s not a fucking fish,” Leon scoffed.

“No shit.”

The Professor bent to examine the creature. He probed with the barrel of his SKS, running it against a series of large open slits on the creature’s mangled torso. “It’s got gills, too.”

The creature twitched.

A flash of movement.

The Professor’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropped open. The creature’s remaining arm had plunged through the Professor’s gut, emerging blood-soaked from the other side. The appendage withdrew, and the man slumped to the ground.

“Professor,” Deacon yelled. He pulled his squadmate close as Donaldson and Leon unloaded into what was left of the green carcass, shredding it into sloppy chunks.

The Professor coughed up blood. “Shit,” he managed, through heaving breaths. “Must’ve been a reflex… Defence mechanism for the gills…”

“Take it easy, Professor,” Nathan said. “We’ll get you back to base.”

“Bullshit,” the Professor said. He was leaking badly from both sides of the wound.

“Guys,” Donaldson said. “What the fuck is that?” He motioned with his M1 towards the butchered green monster. The pieces were vibrating. Minced remains of the creature, shreds of flesh and innards, oozed together, coalesced.

“Jesus,” Leon said. “Is it still alive?”

“Is it… Is it putting itself together?” Donaldson said, staring in disbelief.

The creature slowly took form. It was a skeleton of goo first, oozing up from the ground, joined by pieces of green carcass.

Hiro shouted something and pointed to the bag in Nathan’s hands.

“Now’s not the fucking time,” Leon shouted.

Hiro shouted back, insistent, pointing alternately to the bag and the monster.

“Maybe he knows how to stop it,” Donaldson said.

Nathan opened the bag to Hiro, who reached in and rifled through the contents. He pulled out an ornate knife with engraved symbols along the blade.

Hiro made his way to the reanimating creature, took aim at the head, and thrust the knife. It entered the skull with a sickly crunch, and what remained of the creature turned instantly to dirt.

Hiro pulled the knife from a roughly head shaped mound of earth. “Iron,” he said, with a thick Vietnamese accent. “Iron kills demon.”

“Jesus Christ,” Leon said.

“That thing,” Donaldson started, “that thing really is a demon.”

“Holy Christ, a fucking demon.”

“Ngu’Tinh,” Hiro said. “Yeow kwai.”

The men looked to the Professor: eyes open, unblinking, silent.

“Goddamn.”

“So this fucker knew along how to kill it,” Leon said. He took a few aggressive paces towards Hiro. “Anything else you didn’t tell us?”

Hiro put up his hands, stepped back, said something calmly.

“No use,” Nathan said. “Can’t understand each other anyway. Not without Bao.”

“So now what?” Leon said.

“We get back.” Nathan nodded decisively “Before any more of those things show up.”

“How many you think are out there?” Leon said, peering into the trees.

“We saw two in the river. One in the trees,” Nathan said. “So at least three.”

“We should ask him,” Donaldson said, pointing to Hiro. “He knows some English.”

“You’re right.” Nathan turned to Hiro, and began to pantomime. “One.” He pointed to the mound of dirt that used to be the demon. “Two, three…” He pointed backwards, from where the others had come then held up three fingers. “How many?” Nathan shrugged his shoulders, turned up his palms.

Hiro looked Nathan in the eyes, nodded. “Two more yeow kwai.”

“You think he understood?” Donaldson asked.

“I don’t know,” Nathan said. “Let’s go,” he ordered. “Column formation. Deacon’s on point. Leon, you’re on rear. Keep your eye on Hiro. Donaldson, just get in line and keep your eyes open.”

In formation they marched deeper into the forest. Hiro requested a hit during the march and Nathan obliged. This time Hiro opted for injecting it then held up the needle to Nathan.

“No thanks,” Nathan said, and they continued walking.

Leon stopped. “You sure you’re takin’ us the right way?”

“Yeah,” Deacon said.

“Then why do I hear water?” Leon said.

They all stopped to listen.

“Shit,” Nathan said. “Are we back at the river?”

“Did you fuck up the navigation?” Leon shouted.

“No, this makes sense,” Deacon said. “The river bends back around on the return. We just intercepted it.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Nathan said.

“I don’t know…” Deacon rummaged through his pocket with his free hand. “But since we’re here anyway…” He pulled a hand-held piece of electronic equipment free and retracted its antennae. A black screen in the middle of the device blinked intermittently with a red dot.

“The hell is that?” Donaldson asked.

“The tracker,” Deacon said. “He’s near.”

“Who’s near?”

“Billy.”

“Who?”

“His fuckin’ dolphin,” Leon said.

“Wait a minute,” Donaldson glared. “Wait just a goddamn minute. You didn’t drag us back here so you could look for your dolphin, did you?”

“Relax, we’re just a few degrees off course.”

“Mother fucker.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Deacon said while orienting himself, sweeping the device left and right. “This way.”

“No way,” Donaldson said. “We aren’t goin’ back to the river now.”

“You don’t call the shots.” Deacon started towards the river.

“I agree with the jarhead,” Leon said. “We can’t fight those things in the water.”

“They’re right,” Nathan said to Deacon. “It’s too risky.”

“You said it yourself, Nathan. Rob and Billy are part of the team. And they need us.” Deacon pointed to the tracking device. “He’s close.”

“How close?” Nathan asked.

“Less than a klick.”

Nathan ran scenarios through his head; it was risky, but Deacon had a point. “All right. Let’s go.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Donaldson said.

“You don’t get an opinion,” Nathan snapped. “You practically begged to come with us. We’re doing you a favour, remember? For your brother? Now let’s move.”

They reoriented and headed back for the river.

“This is a bad idea,” Leon said.

Part of Nathan agreed, but he kept it to himself.

Deacon reached the river first. Nathan joined him, signalled all clear, and the others lined up along the bank.

“So where we looking?” Nathan asked.

“There.” Deacon motioned with his head. “About fifty meters.”

They peered through the hanging foliage. Across the flowing water, the river extended into a large cove of placid water. The bay was roughly circular, dotted here and there with large boulders that were blanketed with water moss.

“He’s in that bay?”

“Here, Billy, Billy, Billy,” Leon called out, then laughed awkwardly at his own joke.

“So what now?”

“Dolphin whistle.” Deacon pointed to a toggle-switch on the tracking device. “Emits a high frequency sound. They’re trained to come when they hear it.”

“Hold on,” Nathan said. “What if those things can hear it, too?”

Deacon shrugged. “There’s no reason to think they’re around. Besides, what other choice do we have?”

“What other choice?” Leon glared. “We could turn around and get the fuck out of here.”

They all looked to Nathan. “Okay,” he said. “Do it.”

“I got a real bad feelin’ about this,” Leon muttered.

Deacon flipped the toggle. “It’s transmitting now.”

“I don’t hear shit,” Leon said.

“You’re not supposed to. It’s inaudible high-frequency. Trust me, it’s working.”

In the bay across the river, the boulders shook, jostled in place, and something huge surged from the water. A giant centipede-like monstrosity, over a hundred meters long. It lifted itself on hundreds of legs, water pouring from between the segments of its body as it rose from the bay.

“Ngu’Tinh,” Hiro said.

The gigantic demon turned and snaked towards them through the water. Its legs were a flurry of motion pounding the water, the sound like approaching machine-gun fire.

Nathan froze as the demon charged, then instinct kicked in. “Grenades, rapid,” he shouted.

Donaldson threw a grenade; Leon blasted a steady stream with his Stoner. Nathan and Deacon fired high-explosive canisters then emptied their mags into the approaching monster. Three successive explosions rocked the river, sending up towers of water and clouds of vapour. When the mist cleared, the creature was gone, the river silent.

“Holy fuck,” Leon shouted. “What was that thing?”

“Where’d it go?” Donaldson said. “Downriver?”

“Hey, guys,” Deacon pointed to the tracking device. “Billy’s on the move.”

They watched the red blip on the screen. It moved perpendicular to them across the river, on to the land, then curved through the forest.

“It’s on land,” Deacon said.

“That’s not Billy,” Nathan said. “If one of those things ate the tracker, would it still work?”

“Yeah.” Deacon’s face fell. “It probably would.”

“Weapons ready,” Nathan ordered.

There were clicks and shuffling sounds as they reloaded. Deacon placed the tracker on the ground so he could ready his weapon.

“Where is it?” Leon said.

Deacon motioned with the barrel of his M79. “It’s closing, slowly. Thirty meters.” He read the distance from the device at his feet. “Twenty meters. Ten.” He steadied his rifle. “Wait. It stopped.”

“Where is it?” Donaldson whispered. “I don’t see it.”

“What’re we waitin’ for?” Leon growled.

“For visual.” Nathan scanned the canopy. “I think it’s in the trees.”

The squad was silent, frozen in anticipation. The thing was out there, just ten meters away. They searched, but saw nothing but forest, heard nothing but whispering wind, breeze-blown leaves. The red blip on the tracker was motionless.

Leon screamed.

Nathan swivelled in time to see Leon dragged along the forest floor by one of the mantis-things. It moved so fast it looked like they were flying, and in a split second they were two dozen paces into the brush.

Concealed by the vegetation, Nathan couldn’t see Leon, but he could hear the furious slashing of the demon. A few shots rang out, then a scream.

Nathan fired his 40mm. THUNK. BOOM. The brush exploded. Nathan was hit in the chest by a chunk of the creature; the rest of the squad knocked over by the shock wave. Nathan landed on his back, ears ringing.

Nathan, Deacon, Donaldson, and Hiro pushed to their feet, shook themselves. They were lightly painted with a mixture of red and green from the casualties.

“Fucking Christ,” Nathan said.

“How’d it get over there without us seeing it move?” Donaldson asked, a tremble in his voice.

“It didn’t. They’re hunting in pairs.” Deacon motioned to the tracker. “The other one’s still there.” The red dot was motionless. Then it darted suddenly.

“It’s on the move,” Deacon said, glancing between the tracker and the water.

Nathan scanned the water. “Where?”

“The river.”

There was a splash, and a faint ripple in the water moving towards the opposite bank. Donaldson fired a few shots of his M1, but the target had vanished.

“Shit. What do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Nathan bent to pick up the tracker. The red dot had moved fifty meters towards the bay.

Hiro grabbed Nathan by the shoulder, pointed to the exploded bodies of Leon and the second mantis creature, then pointed to his bag of supplies.

“Yeah.” Nathan nodded. “Go ahead.”

Hiro retrieved the iron knife from the bag then ran to the bodies.

“C’mon,” Nathan said to Donaldson and Deacon. The three of them followed Hiro to where a small crater had been blasted into the ground, ringed with the carnage.

“Head,” Hiro said, pointing to his own. Then he scoured the area. Nathan joined in the search, brushing aside leaves, and the others followed his lead.

“Got it.” Donaldson shouted, and kicked the green demon skull like a soccer ball. It rolled to Hiro, who promptly knelt and stabbed it. The head gave way with a crunch then turned to dirt.

Hiro stood, stared at Nathan. “One more.”

Nathan nodded then pointed across the river.

“Wait a minute,” Deacon said. “We’re not really goin’ after it?”

“There’s one left, and we know where it is.” Nathan pointed to the tracker. “I’m done being hunted. We’re doing the hunting now.”

“Opium.” Hiro pointed to sac on Nathan’s shoulders.

“Sure,” Nathan said, opening the bag. “Go ahead.”

“Now? But we’re about to go after that thing,” Deacon said.

“Better for him to be relaxed than itching.”

Hiro heated the spoon, prepared the syringe then injected the liquid into his arm. He held out the needle to Nathan.

“No thanks. I’m working.”

Hiro pushed the needle forwards, insistent. “Ngu’Tinh,” he said. “No eyes.”

“No eyes?” Deacon raised an eyebrow. “The hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.” Nathan took the drug paraphernalia from Hiro, then put it in the bag and swung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Hunt or be hunted. Nathan marched into the river, trudging through knee-deep water. Cool wetness soaked up into his clothes, a welcome relief from the humid air. He was gripped suddenly with fear of what might be lurking in the dark water. But he had a monster to kill. Nathan pushed forward, deeper into the river. Hunt or be hunted.

“Shit.” Deacon edged into the water. “We’re really doin’ this?”

“Yep,” Nathan said.

The ground dropped out below, and Nathan started treading. Donaldson was spitting up water, struggling to keep his head above. “How you fuckin’ swim like this?” he shouted. “My shit’s weighing me down”.

“We’re SEALs,” Nathan said. “It’s what we do.” In training they’d tied his hands behind his back and threw him in a swimming pool, blindfolded, weights on his ankles. He made it through that hour-long test, so this river crossing would be a breeze. Unless any of those creatures came back.

Hiro reached the bank first, then climbed up and headed towards the bay.

“Slow down,” Nathan called out. “You don’t even know where it is.”

Nathan felt the river bottom with his foot, then stood, dripping wet, and rushed to catch up with Hiro. He hopped into the bay alongside the man, and the two of them stood in the placid, waist-deep water. The top was caked with algae, and the pool was littered with moss-covered boulders, oddly round.

Hiro moved to one of the boulders with the ornate iron knife in hand.

“What’s he doin’?” Deacon asked as he joined Nathan.

“I don’t know.”

Hiro thrust the knife and punctured the boulder. There was a hiss of air followed by a green cloud of gas. Hiro turned his head and closed his eyes, then reached his hands into the gash and pulled it apart, groaning from the effort.

“Egg,” Hiro said to Nathan.

“Holy shit.” Nathan looked again at the bay, littered with dozens of the mossy eggs. “It’s a nest.”

Donaldson caught up and hopped into the bay with a splash. “Jesus. There must be a hundred of ‘em.”

“Let’s just hope their mom doesn’t come back.”

Hiro had torn the shell open wide enough to see inside. Nathan eyed the contents with horror and disgust. A creature was curled up inside, wrapped in what looked like a bag of snot. Hiro dug into the goo, clutched the head with one hand, and thrust his knife. The whole mess turned to dirt, which dissolved into the bay. Then Hiro walked to the next closest egg and punched a hole with his knife.

“So what do we do?” Deacon asked.

“We help.” Nathan drew his KA-BAR combat knife.

The four of them worked their way through the nest. Donaldson spearing the eggs with his M-series bayonet, Nathan and Deacon hacking with their KA-BARs, tearing open the shells, and Hiro delivering the killing stroke with his iron knife. They were halfway through the nest when Nathan stopped suddenly. Something didn’t feel right.

“Stop,” he yelled. “You feel that?”

The algae was vibrating, the water subtly sloshing, the eggs shaking. A crack formed on one of the shells, and a green limb emerged.

“They’re hatching,” Nathan shouted. “Hurry.”

Hiro moved quickly, splashing through the water, slashing the embryotic mantis-things as they pushed free from the eggs. But the dog-sized demons were popping out faster than Hiro could catch them. The bay was quickly teeming with the demons, and the water erupted into splashing as they thrashed and swarmed.

“They’re comin’ straight for us,” Deacon shouted. Nathan and Deacon sprayed on full-auto, sweeping left and right across the hatchling demons, but the swarm closed on them.

Deacon let out a scream as serrated arms ripped through his legs. Nathan grabbed Deacon by his shoulders, felt the body go limp as Deacon’s legs gave out.

“I got you, buddy.” He yanked Deacon from the thrashing creatures, their green arms now adorned with fresh ribbons of human flesh and ligament. Nathan backed up a few steps and heaved Deacon to dry land beside the bay. Hiro was in the middle of the chaos, leaping from one demon to the next, plunging his knife into their skulls.

“Hey, over here,” Donaldson shouted from a dozen paces away. He took careful aim then fired. One of the creature’s heads exploded from the shot, and the body fell. The swarm rushed in Donaldson’s direction. He took out two more before they closed on him. Slashing arms took out his Achilles tendon, and Donaldson crumpled. He dropped his rifle, started fumbling with something he pulled from his pocket, and the swarm enveloped him.

An explosion ripped through the cluster of demons. Nathan instinctively shut his eyes, shielded his head. The blast knocked him back, and he was pelted with chunks.

Nathan took advantage of the distraction provided by Donaldson’s grenade and dragged Deacon deeper into the forest, three-dozen paces from the demon-filled bay, then turned his attention to the wounds. Deacon’s lower legs were missing, bones exposed. The thighs were half-butchered. Deep-red blood was pouring out, and Nathan could see a trail of blood from where they’d come.

“My legs.” Deacon looked down at himself. “My fucking legs.”

“You’re alive.” Nathan pulled two field tourniquets from his jacket pocket. “Now let’s keep you that way.” Pulling out his KA-BAR, Nathan sawed away the pant leg, tore the fabric away, and exposed the gashes. He wrapped the tourniquet strap around Deacon’s right thigh, and tightened it. “Stay with me, buddy.” He tightened the second tourniquet above the deep gouges in the left thigh. “How you doing?”

“I’ve been better.” Deacon groaned.

“This should help,” Nathan said, injecting Deacon with a syrette.

A rustling in the brush behind; something coming towards them. Nathan’s grip tightened on his weapon. The leaves brushed aside. Hiro stepped out with a smile.

“Holy shit,” Nathan said. “I think he got the rest of ‘em.”

“No way. That’s not possible,” Deacon said, his voice slurred.

Hiro walked towards them calmly. “Opium,” he said. “Ngu’Tinh, no eyes.”

“I think…” Nathan paused. “I think he’s saying they can’t see him when he’s high.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Deacon’s voice stronger this time.

“How the hell else did he kill all those things? And with nothing but a knife?”

Nathan tossed the bag to Hiro, who fished out the metal spoon, lighter, a vial of brown liquid, and a syringe. He heated the drugs into a bubbling brown liquid, filled the syringe, injected it into his arm then smiled.

“All right, Hiro.” Nathan rolled up his sleeve then held out his arm. “Hit me.”

Deacon watched with wide-eyed disbelief.

Hiro nodded; prepared another dose. Nathan clenched his fist and Hiro aimed for a vein on Nathan’s inner elbow. He felt a pinch as the needle went in. Then Hiro pushed the plunger.

Calm. That’s what Nathan felt. The high wasn’t mind altering or disorienting. He was wide awake, just suddenly happy, mellow. Then he remembered the mantis demon. Nathan quickly checked the tracking device.

“That thing is still out there,” Nathan said. “I’m gonna go kill it.” Then he turned to Hiro. “Protect him,” he pointed to Deacon. “I’ll be back.”

Hiro nodded, and Nathan walked into the forest.

On the tracking device, the red dot was slowly circling the bay. Nathan gauged its path, positioned himself for intercept, then crouched in the brush and waited.

A twig snapped.

Leaves rustled.

The creature was there, a few paces away, slinking through the trees.

It edged closer, within arms-reach. He’d seen how fast it could move. He’d get one chance. Nathan steadied his CAR-15. How did I get myself into this shit?

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

The creature turned towards the sound. A stabbing fear ran through Nathan’s spine as he realised the weapon misfired, and he found himself staring face to eyeless-face with the demon. Heart pounding, breath caught in his throat, the stare-down seemed to last an eternity.

You can’t see me, can you? He tossed his rifle to the side. It landed among some reeds with a splash, and the demon swivelled to face the sound. Then it lurched towards the water, slowly stalking the source of the noise.

I’ve got you now. Nathan drew his KA-BAR then followed the creature. It had a plodding gait, rising and falling a full meter with each lurching step. Nathan stepped carefully behind, slowly, matching its rhythm. The creature bent to the reeds, probing with its serrated arms. Then Nathan leapt.

He landed on the back of the creature and wrapped his legs around the torso. It stood, thrashed its limbs. Nathan struggled to hold on, sawing at its neck with the KA-BAR. The two of them spun in place, the demon thrashing wildly, whipping its body left and right. Nathan’s knife tore through the last strand of the neck, severing the head, which dropped and thudded to the ground. The creature fell, and Nathan with it.

He landed, picked up the head, and ran back to Hiro.

“Here.” He tossed the green head. Hiro caught it, placed it on the ground, and stabbed it with the iron knife. The head turned to dirt.

“Hey,” Deacon said with concern. “The tracker. Is it still transmitting?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan said, amazed Deacon was coherent considering his injuries, but the man loved his dolphins.

“Check the switch.”

Nathan examined the device. The toggle was still in the on-position. Shit. He flipped it off just as another blip moved into range. It was coming down the river.

“Another one incoming,” Nathan said. “Where’s your gun?”

“Dropped it. Where’s yours?”

“Fuck.” Nathan closed his eyes. He’d left his weapon in the reeds. It was jammed, anyway. “All right, here we go.” He bent his knees, combat ready, and held out his KA-BAR. Hiro followed his lead and readied his own blade.

“Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten. It’s right next to us,” he said. “Sittin’ in the river”.

“What do we do?”

“You sit tight,” Nathan said, and he stalked towards the river. He approached slowly then peered over the edge. There was a large shape in the water. Nathan leaned closer, KA-BAR raised, and a smooth, blue-grey snout broke the surface.

Nathan laughed. “Holy shit. Rob the dolphin.” The small tracking device was still strapped over the dolphin’s right fin. A second dolphin appeared, minus the tracker. Nathan laughed again. “And Billy.” Nathan bent and patted the dolphin on the head. “Jesus, am I glad to see you two. Wait right there.” He rushed over to Deacon. “You’ve got to see this.”

“What? What is it?”

“Come on.” Nathan heaved Deacon up, lifted him over his shoulders and carried him towards the river. Hiro followed them to the bank.

“Rob! Billy! But how? I thought for sure…” Deacon wiped his eyes. The dolphins chirped, and Deacon laughed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, just happy to see them.” He shook his head. “Now lower me into the water.”

“What?”

“They’re trained for riding,” Deacon said. “And they know the way back to base.”

“Are you telling we can just ride ‘em back to base?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Deacon was acting remarkably calm for someone missing both his legs. Nathan wondered whether it was because of the syrette or the dolphins. “You sure?” he said.

“Yeah,” Deacon answered. “Let’s go.”

With Hiro’s help, Nathan lowered Deacon into the water. Deacon gave Billy a pat on the head, then grabbed onto a fin, and the dolphin took off back towards base, shrinking into the distance downriver.

Nathan turned to Hiro. “Thank you”.

Hiro nodded. “I stay.”

Nathan handed Hiro his bag, then lowered himself into the water. He took hold of Rob’s fin, and the dolphin started back to base. Nathan held tight to the rubbery grey handhold, and looked back to see Hiro standing on the bank, iron knife in hand. Somewhere out there was the demon mother, Ngu’Tinh.

Deacon and Nathan made it back to base without incident. They never had to explain themselves to General Cain as they were immediately moved off-base. First the shit hit the fan, then intel’ verified what they could. Six months later, after things had settled down, a handful of medals were awarded, most of them posthumously. Nathan was given a promotion and offered command of a new team, SEAL team-X, clandestine operators tasked with hunting the things they’d found in the forests of Vietnam. The team was equipped with new weapons, NGX series: 40mm iron frags, iron KA-BARs, iron-tipped stoner rounds. Each operator also got a handy pack of epi-pen opioid injectors.

Nathan never liked hunting animals. But hunting demons was another story. Ngu’Tinh was still out there.