Ambrose cupped his hands over his mouth. Adrenaline still pumped through him and his fingers trembled. A cloud billowed out of his nose though he desperately tried to mask his heavily convulsing breaths. After only a few sharp inhales he realized that it was better to breathe through his mouth. He could muffle it with his gloves and even control the pace of his breath. Such a thing was common knowledge to survival experts his instructor once said, “Each breath has to be steady and controlled. Without conscious effort, one in such circumstances could quickly hyperventilate.”
The first gulp was bitter. The frigid air clawed its way down into his lungs and ripped open the last safe places of warmth within him. The shock was so jolting that he exhaled almost immediately. His gloves hadn’t provided the buffer to the cold that he had hoped and now his body again convulsed begging for another supply of oxygen. He had no choice but to take in another. This breathe of easier than the first. It seemed that the initial surprise had worn off and his lungs were now prepared for the subsequent breaths. Each one came easier after that.
A loud snap some fifteen feet away brought him from his panicked trance back to the reason he was hiding, nearly one hundred yards from the outpost, buried in the snow beneath a tree.
Picture and holograms didn’t do it justice. The textbooks said, “Seven to nine feet tall”, but no words, no matter how descriptive, can prepare one for actually meeting the Sarinak in person. This was a grave injustice as, had one been properly educated, the chaos that followed their sudden and violent arrival might have been alleviated.
The beast huffed twice, with great gusts that reminded him of a horse and puffs of what appeared to be smoke from a furnace pouring out of its nostrils. It had stopped there to wait for the other only a few paces behind it. As the second approached, he could feel each heavy step through the ground. Gaging its weight, he assumed it twice of the textbooks had said. Both of these had to be well over five hundred kilograms. Due to its shire size and speed at which it was moving, many of its steps were assisted its massive arms as they provided the additional support. Hairless, each vein and curve of muscle was clearly visible between the armor plating. With no more than a misstep they could crush the life from him and probably remain unaware that they had done so. As a matter of fact, taking the life from him was exactly what they intended to do.
With each step them became clearer and with each flash of fire in the distance their faces where illuminated. The skin was as dark and grey as the metal plating that covered them. Their eyes were massive black disks, nearly the size of grapefruit, and the ears folded back behind, tucked underneath the head plate. The mouth always reminded him of a grasshopper, but with the current proximity, that comparison gave way to one a meat grinder at his father’s butcher shop. Though they appeared to be closed, he could still see several sharp teeth protruding from within. He knew very little about them, as far as how they hunted, but the mouth seemed a most unpleasant way to die. Avoid that, his mind echoed, followed by a chorus of self-criticism, as if you’ll have a choice!
As if to respond to his self-doubt, a loud sound ripped through the trees. It sounded as if someone had unzipped a piece of fabric a few hundred yards long, but in under a second. Ambrose instinctively whipped his head back to see where the sound came from, but immediately turned to face his aggressors as he realized his movement may have exposed him. To his surprise, the one closest to him now lay crumped on the ground and the second one crouched next to him firearms raised in the direction of the shot, scanning fanatically for the attacker.
A second shot came. With this one the tree above him exploded and powered him with the snow that had perched on its branches. When the brief haze settled, the second Sarinak was dragging its heavy frame back towards to the outpost. Clear fluid gushed out an open wound high on its back. If it were human, it would be dead by now. Even still, he couldn’t image it would make it more than a few yards before succumbing to blood loss. Yet it pressed on. Each movement was followed by deep raspy snorts. He could even hear the fluid building up within each breath. He wasn’t a warrior, but a field medic. It took every piece of restraint to keep him from running to that dying creature and, in some twisted sense of nobility, try to alleviate the agony. It wasn’t but five paces before the heavily soldier gave up and collapse to the ground completely. The crash was followed by a bellowing sound that resembled a deep groaning and a loud horn. He thought as though it were a scream, but unlike anything he had heard before. It was a sustained call for help to any one that would listen. After releasing its last shout, its head fell to the ground and labored breath hissed out of its flaring nostrils. Each attempt to inhale was arduous and each exhale came as a sigh releasing the pressure from within. He didn’t know how long it would be before the life was finally snuffed out, but he had seen human solders last for hours in similar circumstances. He might freeze to death if he waited that long.
Behind him he heard the bushes move and as he turned he saw another beast, just as big as the others and clad in similar battle armor. In its right hand, or what he assumed to be a hand, it carried a large weapon and with its left arm it galloped, not unsimilar to that of a gorilla, towards to the fallen two. He assumed it was here because of the sound it heard, but as it came into the clearing it slowed and took a completely upright stance, weapon out stretch to the fallen. From this view, it appeared that he was aiming at them and approaching with caution, as if he were wary that they might be a threat. Ambrose couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. It seemed the one still breathing panicked up seeing the arrival of the third. To bewilder him further, the third beast rushed upon the second and, stopping only few feet away, fired another round. The shockwave rippled the snow around the body and the heavy sighing stopped with a grunt. The new aggressor now carefully investigated the bodies of those that lay in front of them. Ambrose assumed to check for weapons of ammunition.
Another sound behind him, this time almost right on top of him, caused him to flip onto his back and, with his feet driving him, push him out from under the tree in panicked rush. In the clearing and now exposed he realized escape was futile. A fourth and fifth beast stood looking down at him. With their weight, he was shocked they had snuck up on him so quickly. He reached for his gun, but discovered it had come off under the tree now a good five feet away. His eyes shifted to it, and as if to track his gaze, so did the beasts closest to him. It knelt down and grasped the pistol. In its hand, appeared nothing more than a scale model of its former self. His heart raced and his thoughts ranged from, This is how I die to, this can’t be happening, wake up! The soldier took a step forward, to which Ambrose pushed away carefully. Before he could escape though, the beast reached out its hand and dropped his sidearm at his feet. Bewildered he looked at the weapon and then into the eyes of the giant before him.
Upon making eye contact, he heard, not so much with his ears as with his mind, We came as quickly as we could, but we could not save the outpost. Still seeing the shock on his face, it again communicated, I am the squad leader and my name is– the rush of thoughts that followed Ambrose could only assume was its name, but his mind couldn’t make sense of it. It continued, The Sarinak are retreating, you’re safe now.
Safe… what a funny thing to say to a man surrounded by three giant beasts that looked like something of nightmares. But at least they weren’t trying to kill him at the moment. And that should count for something.