Chapter Two: A New Massacre

Michael wakes up in captivity and witnesses a new level of death

            The two savages began speaking their strange tongue again.  They were pointing at Michael.  He wished he could understand them.  He wished he knew what they were going to do to him.  One of them nodded to the other and pulled a long-bladed knife from his belt.  Michael began to sweat.  He didn’t deserve this!  He was just doing what his superiors told him to do!  The great soldiers in stories were never in this situation!  Michael never expected to be the kind of soldier people wrote stories about, but he certainly didn’t expect this either!  The savage with the knife stepped closer to him, grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.  The blade felt cold against his throat. 

            Shouts arose outside the tent.  Shouts quickly turned to screams.  Screams turned to silence.  The savage with the knife leaped out of the tent, while his fellow kept guard on Michael.  Outside the tent, the savage began to shout -- his attack, Michael assumed -- but the shout was quickly cut off.  The other savage worriedly looked between Michael and the tent flap, obviously wondering what he should do and what was outside.  With a sigh, he pulled his knife from his belt and put out a hand to move the flap aside.  Halfway out the door, the savage vanished, pulled outside by something.  There was no shout from him.  There were only screams.  Michael trembled as he listened to the sounds of the native dying.  He thought he knew fear when these warriors captured him, but this was something new altogether.  Michael couldn’t move.  He couldn’t speak.  He could only stare at the tent flaps, waiting for the killer outside to come in and finish him.

            A long nose poked into the tent.  It wasn’t human.  The almost dog-like nose sniffed once, then twice.  The rest of the head entered the tent, followed by the entire body.  This…creature looked partially canine but also partially man.  Its head was similar to a dog or a wolf, but it stood on two legs.  It was thin with abnormally long arms and legs.  Thick black fur covered its entire body.  It sniffed Michael for a moment before leveling its face in front of his.  Michael stopped breathing.  The creature sniffed down Michael’s shoulder to his arm, paused, and bit into his flesh.  A scream pierced the air, Michael’s scream.  The dog-man looked at Michael once more, snarled at him, and fled out of the tent.  Michael’s right arm was covered in blood.  He did his best to crawl toward a small ax in the corner (a tomahawk, he had been told back at camp).  Adjusting himself, he slowly used the tomahawk to saw through his bonds.  When the ropes hit the ground, Michael bolted up and ran out of the tent. 

            The scene before him could only be described as carnage.  A massacre had occurred here, one very similar to the one he had helped commit.  This was different though.  He had followed orders to kill savages that could be dangerous, but this beast…this beast had no orders, no law to follow.  The creature killed everyone in the savage camp, except Michael.  He wandered through the slaughter, avoiding severed limbs and trying not to sick up.  He removed his shirt and tied it around his bleeding arm.  The army uniform coat he had been given was missing, probably taken off by the natives.  Michael tried not to look at the tangled heaps of corpses and detached limbs, but that proved impossible.  Wherever he looked, there were more and more people dead.  Why was I spared? Michael thought to himself, and why did it just bite me and leave?   Too many questions did not have answers.  Michael could only return to his camp and hope the creature would not find him again.

Reviews

[Closedown]

Love love love the description of the werewolf!

[Ardeth Lane]

Oh my goodness I love it!

[Shin]

Oh man, this is getting better and better, I can't stop reading this one, it's that great, really.