I haven't written a post in a while, but I'm also feeling rather lazy. So here's a modified version of a scene I scribbled in my notebook the other day. Enjoy.
*WARNING: Contains arguably boyish concepts of guns, war, and snooping about in the woods. If you have an aversion to those kinds of things, go frolic in someone else's blog. I'm toying more with the concept of silence and fear, and dealing with a deadly force with unknown motives on top of it all than I am with the guns and military-esque stuff.
Somewhere in Washington, Year 2139
I breathed heavily, trying not to let my nervousness show. I adjusted my weapon across my chest, waiting for the man lying motionless next to me to give the signal. The fog filtered through the trees above our heads, like a gray blanket wrapping the pines' cold fingers in a dull swath of chilled air. I exhaled, adding my minuscule contribution to the mist surrounding us. Though foreboding, it was a welcome sight to our wide, apprehensive, fear-stricken eyes. For it would provide a covering for us as we continued in our silent trek across the forest floor.
We weren't supposed to be the prey in this equation. But we all felt as if we were. Our quarry was unlike anything we had ever faced. We were the best the government had. But they used to have better.
Grey Wolf was a silent, highly trained, incredibly efficient sector of the armed forces. It served as the silent persuasive element in society if things were to get out of hand. For this reason it was public knowledge, but no one ever spoke of it. It was the shadow behind the politicians, the knife hidden in the folds of the cloak. It was fear incarnate, and it had a harness on every man, woman and child in the country.
And it had defected.
Not two weeks before this very nervous squad was marching through the trees in Washington, every single Grey Wolf operative had vanished. In a span of 90 seconds all communication was lost. In a span of 48 hours every single military installment in the state of Washington had disappeared without a trace. And the only thing that anyone in the country heard since then was what Grey Wolf did best. Silence. The iron fist had no overseer, no fail-safe. The gunship in the harbor had no anchor. So, for unknown reasons, it turned on its commander.
That was where we came in. We were what the armed forces had that could possibly hope to challenge this infestation as our briefing labeled it. Our record was extensive, second only to Grey Wolf. But that's not what they told us. We were the best. We were the more effective arm of the military. Grey Wolf was an occasionally incompetent bunch, incapable at times they said, and we were more than capable of eliminating the threat. But we all knew that we didn't have anywhere near the ability required to purge an entire state of its military presence in 2 days in complete silence. They did.
In my periphery the shape next to me signaled silently to move. Slowly, we all rose, weapons covering as many angles as possible. We began walking, as silently as we could, silently, swiftly, silently. Every leaf that crinkled beneath our feet made us all wince. We were hardly willing to breathe faster, or shift our packs, or step more quickly.
We hadn't spoken a word for 3 days now. Sleep was near impossible to get, even though we were all exhausted. The world around us had slowly but surely turned into a shadowy twilight-tinged scene that never lost its constant pulse of fear. A silhouette of any kind that could become a lone figure with a gun became one in our minds. We slid past every possible hiding place with the utmost hesitation and wariness. Stands of trees became dens of goblins, boulders became looming giants, beds of pine needles became crouching savages waiting for a victim. Nightmares blended with reality.
We descended into a small ravine, a crevice in the mountain. It was my turn to take point, a task that none of us relished in this particular operation. My eyes darted around, searching every dark corner, every bush, every tree for a sign of movement.
"You are surrounded. You have 10 seconds to drop your weapons."
The voice, although it was barely above a whisper, held all the force of a bellowed command. The silence had been shattered by a hammer blow. We all froze for a moment, fully expecting to die. When the unknown man's statement finally made its way into our minds, we hurriedly threw down our guns and raised our hands in the air.
The forest became our fears as it morphed around us. A shadow bounded over a boulder to our left and slowly advanced toward us, gun raised. The bark on a tree to our right peeled away and turned to face us, steel pointed at our trembling bodies. A bed of pine needles behind us shifted, slowly rising to observe us. Most surprising to me, what I could have sworn was a rock not ten feet before me stood, a gun materializing in his hands. The owner of the voice slowly emerged from the fog, pistol at his side. The shadows in our minds had come to life.
