Lurk

Chapter Five

“No way, prick. We’ve lost enough men as it is, and there are tonnes out there!”

Lurk was confused by the resistance of the soldiers, but remained insistent, arm hanging loosely into the hatch. If they really didn’t trust him, a bullet would have passed through his skull by now.

Their faces, illuminated by the leaking sunlight were hunched around a lighter, which was quickly put back into the holder’s breast pocket. What are they doing?

Beaten by the stubborn silence, Lurk opened up his hand. “One of you – hand me your radio.”

A collaboration of reluctant scorns was his reply, leaving him almost helpless. If they weren’t going to cooperate, the MG spotted circling the area would most likely open fire. There was no point in lying, even if to his own mind: he was scared.

“Fine, then.”

In a sudden change of plan, he backed out of the hatch, and disappeared from the soldiers’ line of sight.

“Ah...” Radar sighed, adjusting his glasses under the light of the sun. “That’s a heck of a lot-”

“Come on, y’ bastard...”

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

An uneasy silence took hold of the tank. What had created the noise? Was the hooded man leaving?

“Oh God...”

The air shifted as a red mist hit the hatch, and a head-shaped silhouette dipped through.

Osmond was outraged. “For God’s sake, I thought we told you to-”

“Ugh...”

“Oh no...” Osmond breathed, eyes fixated on the black-faced, decaying face hanging above.

The men couldn’t help but shield their noses from the scent of rotten flesh. A pair of bulging, yellow eyes glared down at the troops, soon to become prey. There was nothing they could do.

Thud.

Radar flinched in horror as they were sprayed by maroon-red blood. The head imploded into a hundred pieces, an already tumour-plagued brain hitting the rusty floor of the tank, and showering the boys in parasites.

Stood high above, undoubtedly grinning behind his mask was their unlikely guardian angel.

“Want that to happen again, lads? Cos there’s a lot more where that came from!”

Frightened into submission, a pale hand offered him a radio.

“Hell, I don’t like this Crawley – he just threw a fucking Lurker at ‘em!”

Randall cocked his M16, pale-faced but eager to get stuck in. His boys were in danger, and he wouldn’t let some masked hooligan take his last remaining men.

Crawley tried to stop him, but it was a call over the radio which stopped them all dead.

“Alright, you armoured jokes... Can I speak to the person in charge of this crap?”

“This is Staff Sergeant Randall, Royal Marines.” Randall was quick on the radio, louder and more menacing than usual. “I swear if you do anything to my lads-”

“Oh, shut up... Don’t try that shit with me, Randall; I know that you’re not going to do anything irresponsible. Actually, maybe I should just feed your boys to the Lurkers right here and now...”

Crawley felt his heart drop. There goes the cover.

He might have been able to brush off the past hints, but this time Randall was letting no secrets pass him by. His eyes were bulging with premature rage, ready to explode. “Crawley... did you hear what he just called ‘em?”