The Deermen of Koro

Introduction

         The planet Eljor is an odd place in its entirety, holding many secrets and mysteries. From the popular walled cities filled with tourists, businesses, and prospective peoples all the same, to the hushed existence of outside settlements, abandoned cities, and war torn ruins. All the way to the depths of the "Da'mak", a cave on hallowed ground that leads deep underground, wherein freakish spawns of hell occasionally emerge. What supernatural entities lurk in the wilderness of Majorian is mostly known, though some rumours are still whispered in hushed and wavering voices around campfires. Many popular stories in the western capital city of Yego is all but many of the dangers outside their walls and security. A couple thousand kilometres from Yego is the town of Koro. Our story takes us to Koro, in the shoes of a man named Emery Kovac and the surviving members of his caravan. Will they find out the secrets of Koro, or will they disappear like many other travelers, making their final stop at the peaceful town before vanishing as if into thin air?


Prelude


         The night was clear, and crisp. Light rain the past few days had brought a cool dampness to the air, plastering the lush prairie grasses with a heavy dew that would grow into a low hanging fog on nights like these. Koro was a formidably sized town considering its position was so far from many other towns and settlements. The closest town was a two and half days hike out the front gates. This isolation didn't bother the residents of Koro, they were proud of this, and humble all the same. They had a prosperous trading relationship with the other places around them, knowing both that they needed all the allies they could get so far out on the frontier, and that they couldn't be where they were at today without them. Regularly, convoys of trucks made their ways across makeshift dirt roads that sprawled through the grassland and to Koro's gates. The town had a tall chain link fence surrounding the perimeter of the main buildings, with some outcroppings of shacks and houses where local farmers made their living. The ten-foot high metal wall, topped with curled bundles of razor wire was also hooked up to a generator, a crude but effective way to electrify the wall at any time. Though rarely used, it was one of the reasons that Koro had survived so long, like most places, wild animals and creatures of the night did not enjoy a good shocking. Along the fence walked the occasional patrol, and the main gates on the front and back of the town had small checkpoint offices on the east and west sides where the arriving convoys would be inspected and checked in or out. Despite their security and seeming readiness for anything, it was rare of the settlement to ever have a problem with the local wildlife.

         The east facing entry had a low concrete blockhouse on the right side of the narrow dirt road, one narrow slot that was a little under half the length of the wall was cut in about head level. It had a metal slide that could be opened or closed to peek out from inside the building. The inside was decorated with maps, graphs, and reminders on loose paper all stuck to the walls with tape or an adhesive putty. In the south-east corner, across from the door, was a wooden table with a shortwave radio sitting atop yet another map. This particular map had lines and numbers scribbled onto it, a route from a town to Koro's east, a shipment of mechanical supplies, foodstuffs, and weaponry. It was bound for 2300 hours with the occupants staying overnight. On the south west corner was an arms locker, only large enough to fit three full sized rifles comfortably, not that anymore than two or three guards were present at a time.

         The metal door was pushed open as a younger man stepped out, joining the elder of the two just outside the structure. The elder man was short and pudgy with a lit cigarette hanging from his lip. The younger man leaned against the door after it closed.

"Uncle Baris," he said from the doorway. The elder man, Baris, who had previously been engaged in thought while smoking his cigarette hadn't noticed when the door opened. He turned to face his younger, letting out an exhale of smoke into the night. " It's twenty-four hunrdred hours, they still have not arrived. Maybe they decided to wait until tomorrow." He shrugged through his long trench coat. Baris turned back to face the eastward road, taking the slowly burning paper roll from his mouth and pointing out towards the distance. The flat grasslands surrounding them were getting engulfed in a thick mist.

"No," He said, "They will come." The short man moved to the wall beside his comrade, extinguishing the cigarette on the wall and slipping it between two cracks for later use. They sat there for a moment, in the light of old incandescent bulbs struggling against the thickening fog in their old age.

"That'll kill you one day." The younger man said, looking straight forward, across the road into the foggy night. Baris chuckled,

"You're like your mother, Mikael. Worrying about your old uncle too much." This made him sport a slight grin. "Besides, you are always in a rush for everything. Early for your shift tonight, early to bed, this damnable caravan can't even be late without you getting into a twist about it. Why is death any different?" He spoke like any elder would speak to their younger about such things, sounding like he had all the knowledge in the world. Mikeal just shook his head, getting up to open the door and step back inside in the warmer interior of the concrete building.

         Just before he could step inside, he felt the hand of his uncle on his shoulder. Mikeal turned to see his uncle's expression had grown serious, the grin escaping his lips.

"Get your gloves." Baris spoke in a flat voice to his nephew. Mikeal turned from the doorway, facing down the dirt road. A lone figure, black and expressionless in the night and mist was shuffling with a painful gait down the road. Mikeal leaned in and grabbed the rifle he had propped up beside the door, shouldering the stock and standing with his uncle. Baris, on the other hand, took a few calm strides down the road to the edge of the circle made by the spotlight, placing a hand on the holster attached to his belt. He lifted a hand in a 'stop' motion towards Mikeal. It only took the figure a matter of minutes to get close enough to start to make out their features, but it seemed like hours to the men. The man walking towards them was limping and heavily favouring his left leg over his right, his left arm was across his chest, holding the right one as it bumped limply against his body.

"Help..." The man coughed weakly, shuffling closer. Baris stepped back a few times as the man came into the range of the spotlight. His face was dirty and bloodied, there was blood seeping from the fingers clutched around his right arm, presumably from a wound underneath. He began coughing as Baris stepped in, taking the man's arm to help him.

"What happened?" Mikeal was trying to say to the man as him and his uncle were passing by. In the light Mikeal could make out a large red "U" with two dots in the middle on the the shoulder of the injured man's white shirt. The "U" was a common marking for workers from the town Urteal, the U for the town's name, the dots for their two main labours, forestry and farming. It was hard to miss.

"He's from the caravan," His uncle told him briefly, "Stay. Make sure if anyone else shows up you sit them down and wait for me or someone else to help them in."

"But," Mikeal started to protest.

"Nothing!" Baris silenced his nephew. "Someone has to stay and see if there are others, I will get someone else to stay with you for the rest of your shift."

"Alright, alright. I get it." Mikeal walked backward towards the door, pulling it open. He sat himself at the chair behind the slot, opening the metal slide to peek out. At least I will be warm... He thought to himself as he peered into the fog.

         He was about to stand again, making out a vague humanoid shape in the fog, just far enough away that he could see them, but not close enough as to make out any other details. They were just standing there, motionless. Mikeal leaned forward to try and make out if the person might need help moving. It didn't take more than a few seconds of squinting to make out the shape of branch-like objects protruding from the creature's head. Mikeal sat back down, his face grim. The dark eyes of the figure seemed to be searching his soul, but Mikeal knew that he would be safe so long as they had the man from the caravan. He knew there would no one else coming down that road.

"Azrail." He spoke quietly, but firmly under his breath before pulling the metal slide shut.


Part I

Three months after the Urteal caravan disappears

         The moist mud made a soft 'squelching' sound underneath Emery's boots as he stepped out into the warming morning light. He raised a tanned hand to shield his eyes from the sun on the horizon, giving his pupils time to adjust before continuing his lazy stroll.

Emery was of average height, just under six feet tall. He was well built from living on the Eljorian frontier as well as the slightly increased gravity of the world. His skin was tan, not light but not dark, taking after his mother in that regard. He usually kept his short black hair tucked up under a ball cap, but had opted out of head wear after finding the morning air was damp and warm. It had been raining for almost two weeks straight, turning the dirt roads that most settlements used to muddy trails that were more useful to get yourself stuck in. After it had stopped raining, the powers that be had decided to start moving more trains of products to other settlements, with hints of more poor weather to come they couldn't take a chance and lose profits like that. Emery had lived most his life in the of Yak'ta which was in fact, the main hub of all the trade in the Deep East.

         Emery had a signature laziness to his jaunt that was easily recognizable around the shipping yard, he never walked like he was in a rush, constantly strolling. Though he walked like a tired high school student, he still held his head with a sort of pride. Emery was a truck guard, just a grunt going for ride along's to deter and occasionally fight off bandits or the nasties that lurked in the wilderness of this alien planet. He cut through the yard, making a line towards the garage his caravan would ship out from. The noise of work beginning was starting to light up all around him, machinery whirring, cranes moving containers, forklifts zipping about on the soaked asphalt. The whole place becoming busy and alive like that of a creature coming out of hibernation. There in front of him was a large, rounded tin building with a huge door in the front. Beside this one, was a smaller one for people, which he found to be locked after trying the metal handle. Not wanting to try to lift the massive door to the left, and knowing someone should be inside, he banged on the metal door and waited.

A gruff voice made an incomprehensible sound through the entryway, which Emery took as someone coming to get the door. In a matter of seconds there was the clinking sound of a lock opening, and the door swung inward. Standing in the doorway was a six foot four beast unable to stand in the entryway without ducking, a creature which seemed to come straight out of a werewolf movie. It was humanoid, bipedal, but it had the looks of a massive wolf. Its fur was almost all pitch black, give the silvery accents on its face and arms. The creature was dressed up in a tank top and a pair of pants that fit with the dog's bent legs, giving the beast the impression this it was standing on its toes. The hair on its head was long, tied back into a neat ponytail. Emery smiled at the large beast.

"Angelo!" He cheered, stepping into the door and patting the large creature's arm. The beast stepped to the side, closing the door behind Emery. "I hope everything is going well here, because you don't even want to know what they're saying to that crew that screwed up that batch of food parcels heading to Dago. Hear about that?"

The furred man nodded, lifting an arm towards a plastic table set up against the right wall of the shop. Along the walls of the workshop there were all sorts of objects one would expect to find in any repair shop. There were dollies with welding equipment, portable jacks, spare tires, and what seemed like any tool imaginable all tucked neatly in one shelf or another. Dominating the middle of the floor however, was one of the massive trucks they would use later to make their delivery. It was a hulking machine, three sets of huge off-road tires that put the regular crew cab trucks the lead and rear vehicles were comprised of to shame.

Emery grabbed one of the folding metal chairs and pulled it out, taking a seat at the table. Angelo sat across, and a seat over. The plastic tabletop was adorned with a neat pile of papers, a plastic tray with overturned coffee mugs and a couple napkins, and a large metal pot of coffee. Emery flipped one of the mugs, setting it in front of him as he began to pour out a bit of the brew. He was never a coffee drinker, only filling the mug about half way. Angelo already had a practically full cup sitting right in front him, untouched thus far as the creature shuffled through the papers in front him. Emery lifted his mug and blew some steam off the top as something caught Angelo's attention within the writing on the papers. Emery shifted forwards, waving a hand at the wolf-man to garner his attention.

"They want us to use the da'gran." Angelo's deep voice cut through the air. The large being was a member of the native population of dog-men called Abrohq. Specifically, he was a Basika, the larger of the two main species of Abrohq, and he had a thing for not saying much. Despite this, the Basika's choice of words never failed to intrigue the human, in this case describing the route as the 'evil road' in his native tongue of Iekha. Emery knew this meant one route, as the name had caught on with other Abrohq working the yard, and even spread into everyday use among others. The desolate seventy kilometre stretch was just a dirt road off the main paved one that attached Yak'ta to practically every large settlement in the area. It wasn't used often despite being a reasonable shortcut. There was only one settlement noteworthy along the whole road, and it didn't need too many resupplies often, which prompted only halfway trips down the route most times. The people in the quaint town of Koro were always overly thankful, Angelo seemed to think. Emery had to agree with him to an extent, but thought it more of the isolated people's way of showing gratitude. The two of them had been there a couple times, combined, with Angelo having been there three times to Emery's one. Each time, the Basika said he didn't like the air around there, whatever that meant.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." Emery chuckled through the mug that was held to his face, even as the expression on the Abrohq across from him seemed uneasy. Emery knew his friend was extremely superstitious, which was not uncommon with Abrohq. It was common knowledge around these parts that the dirt path seemed cursed. Several convoys of trucks had gone missing on that stretch of earth, most never to be seen again without any explanation given to the families of those sucked into the void. The last one was a truck line out of the forestry town Urteal. The trucks were found the next day by a travelling merchant. When an armed group from Urteal arrived to recover the vehicles, they allegedly found a nightmare. Not a single body was recovered, but some say there was enough blood to assume all the men had perished that night, in and around the vehicles. There were weapons and shell casings, the entire shipment had been left intact as well, even a couple vehicles still running. No one in their right mind thinks to blame lowly bandits or the ornery wildlife, both would have left bodies, and the first would have taken the items left behind. But the reports like this were all but speculation and rumour, Urteal remains tight lipped on the incident, but vowed to never use the road again. That alone was enough to completely stop all traffic along the route for months, up until today when Emery's route would take him down the very same road late that night.

         The rest of the day went fairly uneventful, for the crew comprising that night's delivery guard at least. While the lifts and cranes and workers continued working like busy bees, the group responsible for the safe passage of the delivery and crew sat around the same plastic table Emery had been seated at before. The insulated metal pot had been emptied and refilled several times up to this point, and Emery had stepped out to get some air and take a walk. He enjoyed the now warmer evening sun on his face and the humid air filling his lungs. He enjoyed it more because it seemed to stamp out the smell of hot asphalt and dry dirt, washing away the dust and grime and giving everything a clean start. He strolled around the fence, eventually finishing his walk by arriving back at the workshop before they were set to brief. As he was walking up, he noticed in his absence that the large vehicle previously taking up the entire shop floor was now gone. Evident because the massive garage door was now open, and the room seemed larger and more vacant with the hulk missing. It was most likely getting loaded up so they could set out. He walked through the larger door this time, viewing now what must have been the rest of the night crew, give or take a couple. The group was solely comprised of humans, the only exception being Angelo. A lot of the time an Abrohq was brought along, both because of their heightened senses and because they were more sensitive to other things that existed on this planet long before man arrived. Emery sat with the men and tuned into the conversation, it seemed to be about the route they were using and many were invested in the Basika's cautiously chosen words about how he felt about that area. The whole thing seemed fine to Emery, though, so while he listened with everyone else as Angelo and some of the other men debated other routes and the existence of some force yet unknown along their own, he didn't pay them much attention. Eventually a bearded man had checked his watch, informing the rest of them that it was time to settle down and listen to him.

         The bearded man turned out to be someone Emery had never worked with before, revealing his name to be Gregor. He was in charge of the operation, and began briefing the group on what was to be expected. It would take them about 40 minutes to reach the turn to Koro, they would offload the designated equipment for the town, then head back out. They were to finish the rest of the route and hit the main road again, that way they would reach the main stop of Urteal before midnight. They would spend the rest of the night there, leaving the next day and avoiding the dirt path entirely.


Part II

         Everything was going without a hitch, the carrier's were loaded up with food parcels and munitions. Gregor had divided up the group into their appropriate groups. The standard formation was two escort vehicles to every carrier, and tonight was no exception. Along with the four trucks loaded with armed guards, there was to be two more on each transport, atop the driver. Emery had been told he and three others were going to be in the rear most guard, a retired military vehicle. Ahead of them was a modified civilian crew cab with armour plating welded over the windows and grill. The same set up was being used in the front, except the more versatile military grade escort was in front, and this one equipped with a heavy machine gun on the roof. After the rumours that circulated about the Urteal convoy began becoming widespread, no on wanted to take any chances. Emery was in a pair of fresh jeans with a black shirt under a kevlar vest. He had checked over his gear a number of times before they were ready to leave. Emery had a bullpup designed automatic rifle, convenient for being inside the cab of a car, and strapped to his leg was a standard nine-milimetre sidearm.

Luckily for Emery, he had grown up around firearms his whole life. His father was a police officer in the capital city of Yego, before he moved to Yak'ta to be with his love interest and soon to be wife, with which they bore Emery as their only child. Hence, he was taught from a young age about gun safety and shooting, which helped him when he applied to be a caravan guard to make some 'easy cash', as he most often said. But as the sun was beginning to crest the horizon and envelope the world in dusk, he couldn't help but feel something in the air. A sort of static, something that set him on edge and made his heart flutter like he had just seen his crush at the school dance. He had never felt this way, in nearly three years of working this job, he never once felt even remotely uneasy going into any job. He had tried to coax any hint of the same feeling out of the ever reserved Angelo, who remained tight-lipped as usual, though it was not hard to tell that he was on edge. The Basika was twitchy at best, and Emery had never seen his ears rotating as much as they were now. He seemed to be scanning the surroundings for noises that would represent danger, but nothing was out of place in the damp shipping yard. Under the glow of bright white lights, Emery clapped his friend on the arm and told him not to worry. They parted shortly after, Emery saddling into the passenger seat of the rear-most truck while Angelo moved off to take his seat in the foremost. There was a radio check to make sure everyone was on the same channel, then the chain link gate shuddered open to the darkening roads beyond and the vehicle lurched forward into the night.

         The night was darker than ever, and the air was crisp. The moisture was forming a thickening mist which the powerful high beams of the trucks could barely penetrate. Light from the cold, empty sky was limited as the fog waned higher up in the air. Emery still couldn't shake the feeling of unease as the truck line traversed down the fateful road. Thus far nothing of interest had happened, and Emery had caught himself dozing off a couple times to the quiet music playing from the radio, mixed with the low hiss of static on the radio waves. The thick fog seemed like a comfortable blanket, covering the trucks and their occupants in a protective veil, keeping the unknowns out as they began to slow. A turnoff up ahead lead directly towards a bright patch of spotlights in the distance. The turn and accompanying straightaway was a decent sprint. On either side there was farmland dug into the soil, ending with patches of trees on the ends.

         Emery's convoy was facing East, approaching from the West. From the last time he had been here, Emery knew the East side was essentially the same as the West. Farmland on either side of a decently long, straight road. They were granted privacy on the ends by swathes of huge trees. The line made its way down the final stretch, eventually rolling to a stop outside a concrete blockhouse. An armed man spoke with Gregor in the lead vehicle for a couple minutes, before the fence's gate clattered open. They were clear to enter, and the men made quick work of pulling into the patch of dirt the town called its shipping yard. The metal fencing rattled closed behind Emery's back as he stepped out of the barely stopped truck. He breathed in deep, keeping the gun he had slung over his shoulder held loosely to his front. Gregor was out and having a friendly chat with one of the Koro guards, while two of the other local milita were directing the delivery crew were to unload the delivered supply of goods. Despite the growing feeling of anxiety Emery sauntered over to the head of the two large delivery vehicles in his usual fashion. A familiar dark shape was assessing the surroundings.

"Hey," He peered up at the clearly unnerved wolf-man. "Chill out will you? You're starting to give people the creeps." Even though he was not easily swayed, Emery was starting to dislike the gut feeling he was getting while watching the Basika cautiously scan every inch of the area. Angelo just narrowed his dark brown eyes, a frown showing on the ends of his mouth. This prompted the human to sigh and shake his head slightly. It was never a good sign to have a normally level-headed Abrohq acting so paranoid. He turned and went back to where the unpacking was just finishing up. It seemed that there were only a couple more boxes before they could set out again. One of the Koro locals that had been directing where the boxes needed to be set seemed to be getting in a bit of a fit with the two men unloading the truck. As he approached, Emery couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him. He shivered and chalked it up to Angelo or some of the locals.

"...really should be hurrying a little more." He caught the end of the Koro guard saying. He couldn't very well see the man, but he could tell that he seemed to be tugging one of the last couple boxes off the truck. The second man had moved from the doorway of the small warehouse to directly in front of Emery, plus a good few metres. He seemed more interested in the dark expanse outside the fence than with the hassle going on directly behind him. He was standing between in the light cast between the trucks, and the closer Emery got the more he noticed how taut the man's cheeks seemed. They were seemingly clinging to his cheekbones, Strange, Emery thought.

"Calm down, we got it. It's only gonna be a couple more minu-" The Yak'ta crewman trying to pull the guard off the truck tried, but unsuccessfully got the man to stop. He had pulled a box of fragile radio and computer parts out, and in his haste to get them out of there the box had slipped from the man's grip and fallen. "Aye! What are you doing? Those are breakable!"

The crewman crouched low to gather up the box, ensuring the contents were still all good. The guard stepped back, getting flustered with himself as he grabbed the last box and moved away from the three confused Yak'ta members without another word. Emery traded glances with the other two watching, they all had the relatively universal expression of 'What the hell?' on their faces. The man that crouched down cussed as he stood with the dirtied crate, placing it with the others. The lively conversation Gregor was having was interrupted when the usually friendly guardsmen started getting more and more fussy. The presumed-guard captain was pulled aside and he went into the warehouse, out of earshot of the outsiders, to talk with the the hassling guard. A few moments later the two came back out and the captain shook Gregor's hand again, with a smile.

"I'm sorry if these two gave any of your people a hard time, they're still pretty new to this job." He apologized to them, "But, you should probably be going before it gets too late."

On that note, Gregor had let out a whistle and waved his hand in a circular motion, letting everyone know it was time to leave. The threesome plus Emery that had witnessed the one guard losing his cool were all relieved, all shuffling to get to their positions. The strange local watching the fencing was still just... standing there. He hadn't moved during the whole ordeal, but now Emery was actively stepping by him which stirred him from his trance. Just as Emery passed, he felt a hand lock onto his shoulder. He turned his head quickly to the man, who was now staring into Emery's eyes with the most psychotic look on his face he had ever seen. He pulled himself from the iron grip of the resident, giving him a once over with a terrified expression.

"The hell?" He managed as the man's eyes burned pinpricks into his own. He could tell now that the guy's face looked tight on his face, his fingers seemed like bony sticks, like he wasn't eating properly. Instead of a response the man let out a quiet chuckle as he turned to walk back to the warehouse. If not before, now Emery was truly ready to get the heck out of dodge. When he was re-seated in the armoured car, the driver made sure everyone was there and gave a check-in over the radio to Gregor in the lead to let him know they were good to go.

"Man, those guys were pretty freaking weird." The driver said to no one in particular as the line of trucks started to drive through the middle of the town towards the East gate. A murmur of agreement echoed through the cab. They slowed at the Eastern gate, just for the arm to raise. As they drove through, Emery noticed an older man standing with a younger one. They seemed to be related, Emery thought. Something in their eyes, or facial structure. It wasn't hard to miss. The elder man gave a slight wave to the passing convoy, to which Emery returned a curt nod. Whether or not it was actually noticed, he didn't care. The line made their way down the Eastern stretch and hooked a left turn, starting Northward.

         It took about fifteen or twenty minutes of driving before a series of wooden crosses could barely be made out on the edge of the road through the thick blanket of fog. One of the two sitting in the back made an off comment about what they were for.

"One for each of the twenty men from Urteal." The second replied.

"Twenty?" Emery asked. He had counted them as they passed, to try to distract himself from the lingering jitters he had.

"Yeah, something like that. Twenty-something."

"I only saw nineteen." He said.

"You probably missed one, or it got knocked down or something. It's been months, anything could have happened to one or so." And that seemed to exhaust the interest in that particular topic, as the minds of each of them didn't want to think about the incident that had happened on this very same road at all. The same man started talking about something else, his family or work or his friends... Emery didn't know for sure, he was too busy keeping his out in the mist. The Koro people were jumpy, and something was nagging at Angelo, the combination was almost enough to push Emery from unnerved to scared.

         Without warning, an earsplitting burst of static exploded from the quiet radio and the foremost vehicle swerved to the far left of the road, followed by the second lead and the two carrier's brake lights began to blaze a glorious red through the nighttime fog. Emery braced himself in his seat as the driver hit the brake to the floor, barely stopping before they could hit the rear bumper of the truck in front of them. The night air was heavyset still with mist, and the lights barely illuminated the shapes of the front two vehicles occupants coming down the side of the convoy, firearms raised. Seeing this, Emery immediately pulled the handle and shoved the door open, the others not far behind. He had his assault weapon shouldered as he swept the foggy roadside. He was trained for this, he had been in similar situations before. But why did it feel off?

"What happened?" He called forward to the two men to his immediate right. One gave a shaky point to the front of their caravan, waving Emery forward. Taking that as a sign to see for himself he lowered the weapon's muzzle and took a short jog to the front. Angelo was out of the vehicle and in a crouched position between the back of the lead and front of the secondary vehicles. His ears were flat back against his head, and the hair on his neck was bristling and on end. Emery knew immediately something was not right as he rounded the front carrier.

"Jesus Christ..." He could hear what sounded like Gregor mutter. It was obvious, even from there. The man that was seated on the roof mounted machine gun was sprawled on his back on the roof of the military vehicle. His legs were still inside, which is the only saving grace from being tossed below the wheels of the rest of the convoy. The twentieth cross was sticking out from his chest, having punctured the whole way through his body with a sharp point sticking from his back. Gregor turned and immediately shouted to the armed and now alert convoy members. "At least two unknown contacts! Stay close to the trucks, don't separate from each other!"

"Ang," Emery fit himself between the Basika and the front bumper of the second vehicle. "What happened?"

He licked his jowl and nose, a sign of nervousness.

"Someone... Something in the road. Jumped out the way at the last second, the exact same time Riches got hit."

"Shit. We really need to get out of here..." Emery's voice trailed off as someone from the back started shouting, followed by a succession of rapid gunshots. He stood instantly, leaning from behind the cover of the truck to catch a glimpse. In the dim red light of the brake lights he could barely make out the shape of the two men that were in the back of his own escort. One was shouting he saw something and the two began stepping into the waning light emitted by the caravan. He was right in the middle of uttering some astonished sounding saying when the shape of the man was thrown violently into the darkness, echoed only by his terrified scream. The second with him dropped his rifle and was clutching his throat as if he was being strangled. He took a few staggered steps backwards before collapsing onto his back. Emery couldn't see from where he was at, but he could easily smell the stench of blood through the fog. Then, something else filled his nostrils, causing him to recoil. The closer guards to the back began firing blindly into the fog in the direction their comrade had been taken. The new stench was a mixture of decay and blood, it could only be described as death. He gagged into his shirt, trying to cover his face with one hand while holding his rifle at the hip with the other. He could hear Angelo growling a throaty warning, a compact sub-machine gun held at the ready in his large right hand.

The veil of the fog no longer seemed like a comfortable blanket, and more like a blindfold for which their murderers could pick them off with ease. The night was dangerous, a thing to be feared. Bone chilling screams began filling the air all around the trapped vehicles. They sounded like a mixture from an orchestra of dying screams, mixed with the sounds from only the most primal of nightmares. People were shouting, sweeping the roadsides back and forth at the point of machine guns, horrified expressions on their faces.

Part III

         "Shut up and settle in!" The burly voice of Gregor boomed over the hellish screeching and scared murmuring. The action put some fire into the men as they steadied their aim and prepared to stand their ground. Car doors were opened and prepared to be used as cover in case there were more than twenty crosses or their assailants had more than sticks to throw at them. The horrid screaming tapered off, leaving only the shuffling of bodies behind the swirling mists and the scuffing of boots and shoes on gravel and dirt. The silence was deafening, the blood was rushing in the back of Emery's ears, the low ringing inside his eardrums was noticeable. Every sound made inside the bubble of light was seemingly swallowed whole, only the hellish noises emitted by the creatures beyond were not muffled. Whatever was stalking the group eventually came to a slow stop, all sounds ceased for a few, heart pounding moments.

There was a sudden, loud crack of static from every radio receiver and handheld the group had, the unnatural burst of noise from the silent machines prompted many of the already frightened men to jump. There was calls all around, people shouting to shut them off, then the bone chilling symphony started again, but the choir of the damned were not content just watching this time. Black figures were rushing in close, not enough to see, the tricky bastards were toying with them. The screams were only momentarily interrupted by the cracking of gunfire, there was a man standing a few feet from Emery, he had caught his name as Daniel before they left. He was yelling, no, screaming, at the figures as they got clearer and clearer, his torso vibrated with the bursts of the machine gun he had leveled. Daniel was only in sight for a a few seconds before he shuffled further out of sight behind the bulk of the carrier, Emery was standing now, trying to sort out what he should do. A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. Angelo had a hard grip on Emery's shoulder, turning him with a sharp tug.

"See if your truck works!" And like that, Emery was turned back to back again with his friend, before the hairier of the two took a large stride around the opposite side of their current cover.

Emery stepped around the corner, now with his second breath and a plan. The cracks of automatic fire were splitting the night, though it seemed like the sounds were coming from all over. Muzzle flashes strobed in the fog, giving off silhouettes of the shooter and their humanoid attackers. Emery's rifle was steadied as he quickly began making his way along the side of the carrier vehicle. He was shaken to find not many of his comrades were around this side. The occasional shot rang out from the fog on his left, there was still a decent amount of fighting on the opposite side, and behind Emery. He was closing on the rear of the first transportation truck, a small, dark shape was sticking out from near the tire. As he got close, he stepped quickly around the corner in order to catch an attacker off guard. No one was around the corner though, no one alive that is. The shape sticking out was a shoe attached to the foot of the guy that had been hassled over the box of radio equipment, a dark pool still forming under him. The second body was slumped against the front bumper of the crewcab, he had been sitting behind Emery just a few minutes earlier. The short barreled shotgun draped across his lap was clenched tightly in pale, cold hands.

Knowing there was nothing he could do, Emery tried his best to shove the image of his colleagues bathed in the red hue of the brake lights, never to leave the gravel road. He shuddered and turned, continuing the nerve wracking walk past the truck. With blood pounding in his ears he almost missed the sound of a choked cough and boots scuffing in the rocks. Emery crouched low against the side of the vehicle, pushing forward. As he got close to the back, he made a quick shuffle around the corner, standing quickly. He was ready to pull the trigger on the man attacking his friend, but he stopped short, taking a staggered step backwards, the barrel of his weapon dropping a few inches in disbelief.

"What the hell..." He could barely stutter the words. His colleague, who had been forced back against the door of the truck bed. His attacker was choking him with unnaturally pale hands. The thing had the body of a man, and was dressed in a white shirt and jeans. The collar and shoulders of the shirt were drenched in dry blood, almost enough to hide a familiar U shape embroidered against the white. It wasn't the gruesome sight of the assailant's clothing that had paused Emery though, it was the abomination which had been mounted onto his shoulders that took him at once glance. It turned to him as he rounded the corner, the head was... gone, but there was something there, a shiny white animal skull with a set of branch-like antlers. The skeletal jaw opened and the thing released a horrible scream at Emery as it released its grip on the downed man. It took a heavy step toward Emery, then another, faster now. He couldn't think, he was paralyzed as the unnatural creature took a third, even faster step. It was within arms reach now, and stepping into a forth movement, it was going to be right on top of him.

Emery didn't know if it was an act of some otherworldly God or the lizard part of his brain, but his arms moved completely on their own. The rifle flicked up, the trigger squeezed, and the automatic fire cut through the body of the beast as the recoil pulled the barrel upwards. He stepped back again, bringing the rifle up further as more bullets punched through the creature at the extremely close range. The thing shuddered with the impacts of the rounds, stepping back with the continued assault. Before he could even shoulder the stock, the magazine was empty. Two small, white pinpricks were glaring at Emery from within empty, soulless sockets. Emery was in an intense stare-off with what felt like the windows to hell itself. The monster straightened up, uttering a grunting sound as it tried to continue forward again. Out of reflex Emery's hand snapped down to his sidearm, lifting it with ridiculous, adrenaline fueled speed and without a second thought he pulled the trigger four times, the first round bounced off of the bleached skull, the second cracked it. The third and fourth punched a hole straight through into the void inside, causing an ear piercing screech to resonate from the dead man's vocal cords.

The flash of a thought snapped through Emery's head, Put another round into it? Before he could react the being staggered and dropped, dead at his feet.

         Emery jumped back, aiming at the body. A black ooze was seeping out of the hole in the its head, despite the skull seeming empty. During the scuffle, the choking man had scrambled up to his feet and had taken off running the way they came. All that was left was the imprints of his boots. Emery quickly dropped the magazine from his bullpup, slamming a fresh one home as he pulled the charging handle and locked a fresh round in the chamber. With his pistol holstered again and the knowledge that the things attacking could be killed he charged out from behind the truck to the driver's side, sweeping from left to right. He hadn't noticed how quiet it had gotten. What had been a free fire zone mere seconds ago was now a desolate and dead stretch of backwoods road. He could see two or three others stepping from between the vehicles, frightened and wary.

Emery opened the door and climbed in turning the keys that were still in the ignition. The engine sputtered and and vibrated. He kept trying, again and again, but the engine refused to turn over. He started swearing and slamming his free hand against the wheel, eventually giving the keys a solid chuck against the passenger window in frustration. Once he had finished stringing together a hearty chain of slurs and cusses he rolled to the right and leaned over to search for the key. His feet kicked out of the open door as he struggled to reach between the passenger seat. Emery had his cheek against the seat and his hand wedged against the floor, he could feel the little metal key ring against his fingertips, his nails fruitlessly attempting to catch against the little circlet. In the silence of the cab he could still hear muffled cries in the distance, and the crunching of feet on the gravel road around him. He had slid the handgun from its holster and had it resting in his left hand while he dug around with his right, peeking up every so often to make sure nothing was close.

Without warning a heavy thud landed on the hood of Emery's shelter, sinking the shocks of the vehicle down towards the front. Emery bolted upright with a start, forgetting the keys instantly once he came eye to eye with another of the beasts just outside the windshield. It was crouched over a corpse which it had thrown over the hood, now interested in the very live prey that had foolishly shown itself. He released a sharp exhale as he rotated, swapping the hold of the pistol to his right, reaching to grab the door handle with his left. There was no chance in hell he was going to take his eyes off this thing. The two stared at each other, his eyes on the white glow inside each of its eye sockets. Its lower jaw was soaked in fresh blood and clattered against the upper part almost mockingly. He tugged the door, causing it to rock slightly in the hinge before it began to pull inwards, before stopping halfway. Emery began to sweat now, the adrenaline had worn off and he was fully aware of the danger he was in now. His leg was twitching up and down, showing his nerves as he gave the door another couple of pulls. The damn thing wouldn't budge, and he knew he had to look away from the stationary predator hunched over one of his former co-workers. Emery steeled himself, slowly moving his head at first, feeling every muscle move as he turned his head ever so slightly. Then he slowly moved his eyes away, then quickly flicked them over to see the cause of the jam.

A bony hand with tatters of flesh dripping with the same black ooze was gripping the door. There was no way Emery could hold back the gasp that pushed past his lips. A skeletal face was pushed against the window of the door, more jet black skin was hanging from the abomination, it had no clothes and the loose, sickly skin was clinging to what appeared to be an extremely malnourished body with no indication of its gender before it was turned into a nightmare.

Emery was forced backwards into the seat as he pulled the door with all his might, peeling skin off the palm of the abomination's hand. His heart began pounding faster as the decayed creature outside the door began slamming its skull against the window, triggering the first, that had been watching from the hood, to scream as it began striking the windshield with bloodied claws. Emery was backpedaling into the passenger seat, back against the door as he shakily drew his pistol again, leveling it with the one across from him. The beast was striking the window with such force it began to crack, tiny glass shards flaking off from the cracks spreading like tiny tendrils across the surface. Emery was shaking more than he had ever thought possible, he had never experienced fear so potent in his entire life. The one to his right was still scrapping at the windshield, leaving deep gouges in the window. Beast number two at the door was making headway now, Emery knew the window couldn't hold much longer. The deer-creature thumped against the window again, the force causing the glass to shatter and the creature screamed at Emery as it began to reach inside. He pulled the trigger, the flash lighting up the cab and the bang ringing in Emery's ears as the round ripped through the air and smashed into the grabber's head. Its head flew back and it nearly slid out of the window, stunned for nearly a full second before the skull tipped back down to glare at him. Emery began pumping the trigger, nine-millimeter rounds ricocheting off the naked skull snapping at him until the slide locked back and the trigger clicked dry. He pressed the magazine release and dropped the empty into his lap, fumbling a full clip from his vest.

"Goddammit..." He fumbled with the magazine as his unnatural attacker climbed almost completely inside the vehicle with him. It was half through, legs hanging out the window, the only thing slowing it down was the broken glass in the window catching the being's peeling skin. I'm going to die here. Emery thought, the windshield beginning to give way under the continued assault. He managed to click the magazine in and rack the slide as the back of the truck began to dip. He didn't notice it at first, being preoccupied with the whole life and death scenario he was currently involved in. He did notice the loud thunk of a heavy step directly above him, his first thought was that he was completely surrounded, he was going to die and his body was going to be recycled. The second thump above him landed directly on the back of the head of the beast on the hood, driving the thing's nostrils into the windshield, making the protective glass crunch inwards under the combined weight. This took Emery by surprise, what made his attacker pause for a few precious moments was the flash and boom of a short barreled shotgun to the back of the hood creature's skull. A bushy grey wolf tail brushed across the windshield as the new card in play leapt gracefully off the truck. Emery could hear the dog-man shout something in his native tongue while grabbing the window-beast's ankles. In return, the abomination grabbed a hold of one of Emery's.

The beast had an icy cold grasp, like a vice grip that had been dunked in ice water. It would have been more of a startle if his ankle wasn't burning with the pain of being crushed in the vice. He didn't want to shoot at the beast for fear of the ricocheting rounds or hitting Angelo behind it, so the creature was caught in a tug-of-war between its prey and being eliminated by the new threat. Emery hiked his left back, the free one, and brought it down hard against his attacker's head.