Eric S Brown [Brown - Kraken Island

Kraken Island

Eric S Brown

Copyright 2016 by Eric S Brown

Kraken Island

An utterly inhuman shriek rang out in the jungle. Others followed it. All of them grew closer with each passing second as Corporal Davis ran. His knuckles were white from the tightness of the grip he clutched his rifle in. His legs pumped beneath him as his breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat slicked his sunbaked skin and seeped from the hair covered by his combat helmet to run into his eyes, burning them. He blinked away the sweat, continuing to push himself to his limits. Every muscle in his body ached, but he knew that if he slowed, even in the slightest, he was dead. He was the only one left. His entire unit was dead. Davis was doing his all-out best not to join them.

They had come to this island expecting a fight, knowing that they were outnumbered before their boots ever touched its soil. Those things were just part of the job. His unit had faced far worse odds than the intel report had laid out for them here and emerged victoriously. They were the best of the best. It was as simple as that. For the last two years, they had traveled the globe, their way paid by Uncle Sam, taking out the threats that folks back home didnt even want to know existed. They had cut their way across the Middle East like a blade sliding into the stomach of a terrorist.

When the details of this operation had landed on Colonel Jones desk, the old man had almost told the higher ups to go to Hell or at least that was how the rumors went. Quite a few in the unit liked to talk about the old man and his hunches. He had led them all through Hell and back so many times, his hunches were like the word of God to them. If the old man suspected trouble or things to fall apart, you could bet they would. No one was quite sure why he had such a feeling on this one though. The operation looked on paper just like any other op they had run before. Get in, eliminate the enemy, and get out before anyone that mattered knew they were there.

The old man had been right too. Things had gone to Hell almost from the very moment they hit the island. The enemy they had been expecting wasnt the enemy that was waiting on them. Their advantage of surprise was gone, and they were the ones who were completely blindsided. They were hit while they were still trying to figure out what was going on and paid the price troops usually do when they are handed bad intel to guide them.

It wasnt so much a fight as a massacre. Davis had only escaped because, for the first time in all his years of service, he had run when the crap hit the fan. And he was still running now.

Corporal Davis never saw the piece of vine on the jungle floor that caught his ankle as he plowed headlong through the trees. One instant, he was running full out, and the next he was rolling in the dirt, shouting curses at the top of his lungs. The fall had busted up his right shoulder pretty badly. He gritted his teeth at the pain, knowing it was dislocated. His rifle lay several feet away from him as he had lost it in the fall.

The shrill cries of the things chasing him grew louder. They were almost on him now. His left hand jerked his Glock from where it hung, holstered on his hip. He painfully readied the weapon. There was nothing else he could do. The things were too close for it to matter if he started running again. He had no choice but to face them and die like the soldier he was.

Davis got to his feet, pointing the Glock at the sound of the closest shrieks. He couldnt see his target, only the tree limbs moving in its wake as the thing came crashing through them. Opening fire, he put a trio of rounds into the jungle where he figured the thing coming after him had to be. A loud screech let him know his fire had at least made contact with something.

Something cold and slimy lashed out and downwards from the tree behind him. It slipped around his neck and tightened there, lifting him from the ground. His feet kicked in the air as he smashed his pistol into it, desperately trying to break the things hold on him.

Davis couldnt breathe. His eyes bulged as the thing twisted about his neck grew tighter. The last sound Corporal Davis ever heard was the sickening snap of his own neck breaking.

****

Colonel Jackson Brannon had been out for his evening run when the black Suburban had picked him up. He sat next to Admiral Messer in its rear section, dripping sweat and sipping at the bottle of water the admiral had given him.

A clearly armed operative with an ear piece sat up front with the driver. Brannon had no doubt he was far from the only protection with eyes on Admiral Messer, though the Suburban appeared to be the only vehicle in this section of the park. This wasnt the first time he had been snatched up from leave when something had come up, but Messers personal presence indicated that whatever it was this time, it was really bad.

You always were a night owl. Messer feigned a smile.

Could argue you were the one who made me this way, sir. Brannon smiled back.

Messer grunted. Guess you could.

We both know this isnt a social call, sir. Brannon pushed them on towards getting down to business. Whose mess am I going to be cleaning up this time?

Messer frowned and handed him a tablet. On its screen were the details of the job he was being drafted for. Brannon whistled as he read over them. When he looked up into Messers eyes again, it was his turn to frown.

Jones was one of the best. Not many people out there who are better, Brannon said.

You are, Colonel, Messer said simply. Thats why I am here.

Brannon shook his head. As to me being better than Jones, thats a matter of opinion, Admiral. I get what you are saying though. From the looks of what went down though, it aint gonna be easy to clean it up.

It never is. Messer sighed. Not with something on the scale of this one.

You have a plan though, or you wouldnt be here.

Full-scale assault, Messer admitted. Its the only option left to us now.

Hard to keep that sort of thing off the publics radar, Brannon cautioned.

Let me worry about that, Colonel, Messer said coldly.

You know straight up fights arent my thing anymore, sir, Brannon pointed out. I left that for the regulars a long time ago.

Messer nodded. That you did, but I need you on this one, Brannon. I need someone who can think outside the box and adapt to whatever crap storm they get tossed into. Thats why I am putting you in command of the ground portion of this operation. Were not dealing with just another terrorist group here. These people bring a whole new meaning to the word cult.

DESRON 44 is already in the area of the island. You and your squad will be flying out to join them. You have twelve hours to get your men and gear ready. Once you arrive, I expect you to work with Surface Commander Wall and take the lead in the planning the ground assault. Everything she has in terms of troops and firepower will be at your disposal. I want that cult wiped from the face of the Earth before the weekend is over. Do I make myself clear?

Crystal. Brannon grinned. So much for my vacation, eh?

****

Specialist Vander rolled over. His eyes bugged as he stared into the face of a strikingly beautiful blonde woman. Her long hair was spread over the pillow beneath her head. He spent a moment studying her features before he reached two conclusions. The first was that, try as he might, he could not recall her name. The second was that this woman was hotter than any human being had a right to be.

Ever so gently, he edged the covers over her back just enough to confirm his suspicion. Yep. She was naked underneath them. That certainly explained why he felt so relaxed and sore at the same time. Part of him wanted to pat himself on the back for a job well done, but the rest of him hated that he couldnt remember a bloody second of the passion the two of them were sure to have shared. That was the price of getting so drunk you couldnt see straight. His only comfort was the hope that when she woke up, she would want to make another go of it before life dragged them away from the bed they shared.