Mindtaker

THUMP. Thick rope ends slam onto the leaves and sticks of the jungle floor from the low flying military transport helicopter above. The wind from the rotary blades pressing down on the trees and flinging leaves into the air, disrupting the once peaceful Cambodian rainforest. A tropical jungle thriving in complete nature. Through the mist, three more rope ends fall from the helicopter. Following seven special forces soldiers, the elite alpha squadron. They slide down their ropes into the jungle with their guns at the ready and their mission in mind, to locate and rescue the American foreign aid worker held at ransom by a local militia. They instantly blend into the surroundings with their black and green camouflaged overalls and begin their advancement into the thick jungle, initiated by a hand order from their Sergeant, Hicks, as he looks back to see their only transport fly off into the afternoon sky. Their only way in and out, scheduled to extract them three days later, thirty miles north of their location.

Using their machetes and large knives to calve pathways through the thick jungle, it takes them two hours to eventually reach a viewpoint on top of a hill that looks down into a small encampment. Several huts made of wood and straw enclosed within a wire fence perimeter,with armed guards littering the encampment, automatic rifles slinged over their shoulders. Hicks signals them all to crouch down as he pulls out his binoculars and observes the situation behind an algae ridden tree log.They lean in as Hicks begins to coordinate the attack.

“It’s militia alright; I see roughly ten of them. Rusty, Robbins, take the west flank. Banks, Hopper you’ll take the east. Mason will enter from the north. Fry, you're up here with me. Get into position and mark your targets and wait for my signal to engage. Confirm time”

They all sync their military grade watches in time before moving to their designated positions, carefully sneaking through the jungle surrounding the enemy encampment. They reach their designated attack location and communicate through their earpiece radio which unsuspecting militia soldiers they plan to take out. Whilst Hicks keeps watch through his binoculars as Fry sets up his machine gun onto the tree log.

“I’ve got the one having a cancer stick” Robbins says confidently into his radio, the youngest of the squad hidden in shrubs, as he looks through the tactical iron sight of his M4 automatic rifle, aimed at a soldier leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. Hopper responds.

“Have you got the silencer on this time? Or you gonna wake the whole village like in Kabal?”

His deep voice crackles through the radio as he chuckles. After they all confirm their targets, Hicks checks his watch for the time.

“Take the shot at eighteen forty seven” He commands. They check their watches and after counting down the last ten seconds, they all pull their rifle trigger in unison, killing five of the militia soldiers at once. Their bodies crumble as Hicks and Fry observe from the hill whilst the rest of the squad ready for the next coordinated attack.

“Nice work. Rusty, Robbins; you have two coming around north western corner hut” Hicks warns, as two militia in conversation casually walk towards the back of the hut, unknowingly about to approach one of their dead comrades.

“I’ll take the left. In five, four...” Rusty instructs, counting down to them firing the next shot and eliminating them both. A guard exits one of the huts, coming face to face with his fallen comrade.

“Shit. Play times over” Curses Hicks. The guard about to alert the others until Mason leaps out from the shadows, driving his large hunting knife into the back of the guard’s neck, whilst placing his hand over his mouth, muffling his shriek.

“Saving the day again” Mason whispers into the radio, as he pulls the lifeless body back into the shadows.

“Good job, Mason. We still have three at the road entrance. Move in” Hicks commands as the squad encircle and move in on the last of the militia, still unaware of the attack. Hicks moves onto the dirt road that leads into the encampment, the three relaxed guards ready their rifles as they see Hicks, only to be gunned down by the rest of the squad from behind. Hicks orders the squad to search the huts for Jasmine, the missing foreign aid worker, as the light of the full moon shines down upon the encampment. They begin to check the huts in pairs, smashing the doors open with their guns drawn, only to find them occupied by old wooden furniture, weapon crates, and random supplies. They all meet in the middle of the camp.

“No sign of Jasmine” Says Robbins, as he approaches the rest of the team. Mason shouts out from the other end of the encampment, utilising his tracking skills obtained from his traditional native American Indian upbringing.

“Sarge. Come have a look at this” He says, crouched down inspecting an ambiguous dirt pathway that leads out of the encampment and into complete darkness, caused by the dense entanglement of trees and branches overhead. The team approaches as Hicks switches on his rifle torch and shines down the pathway. He turns off his torch and commands the team to activate their night vision goggles as he leads into the trail.

The pathway leads them to an old wooden hut, a tribal architecture surrounded by the dense jungle. The cracks between the log walls emit an amber glow, as the team switch off their night vision and cautiously draw their weapons. Hicks signals the team to surround the hut as he and Banks slowly climb the steps to the old wooden door. Unlocked, Hicks carefully pushes the door open and enters as Banks follows, only to find a wooden altar hard up against the back wall filled with various candles and a stone gargoyle standing the size of a cat as the centre piece. Crystal beads and flowers decorate the arch of the altar, complimenting the ancient grey gargoyle that stands sentry.

“Empty” Hicks says over his radio, causing the rest of the team to sigh in frustration. Mason and Fry enter the small hut as Banks exits and lights a cigarette.

“There’s nothing to trace or signs of recent movement around here, sir. Just us leading to this hut” Says Mason, the light of the candles casting his shadow onto the wall as Fry moves to the altar for inspection, his large machine gun draped over his shoulder. Mason continues.

“And being that these candles seem recently lit, it’s odd that there’s no tracks or footprints around” He says in confusion.

“We’ll move to another location and set up camp. I’m not a fan of this shrine business” Hicks says whilst eyeing off the stone gargoyle.

“Also, there may be more encampments nearby, we better get out of here”

“Which means more loot, right?” Fry asks excitingly as he spins around, the butt of his machine gun knocking the gargoyle.

“No” shouts Mason as he tries to reach for the falling ornament, but the gargoyle smashes on the ground releasing a powdery substance.

“Fry, you stupid...” Hicks’ insult cuts short as a bloodcurdling woman’s scream pierces through his head, as if there was someone right behind him. Shocked, he looks to Mason to see him staring wide eyed at the smashed gargoyle. Then to Fry to see he is also stunned frozen, his arm covered in goose bumps. Conceding that they all heard or felt the scream too. Without acknowledging it, Hicks quickly commands them to exit before any fear sets in and orders the rest of the group to move into the dense forest to set up camp for the night, with Hopper and Fry on night watch duties.

“Sarge. Wake up” Hicks' eyes blink open as Robbins nervously nudges him to awake, releasing him from a nightmarish dream of a witch stalking and tormenting him. The remnants of his nightmare forgotten as he scans the camp to find the smoke from the extinguished campfire ascend into the grey morning sky, as Mason, Rusty and Banks pack up there camping equipment with concern.

“Fry and Hopper are gone”

“What?” Hicks responds, adjusting from his slumber.

“They’ve disappeared. When I woke up, they were nowhere to be seen. Just their equipment is left behind” Explains Robbins.

“Mason, any sign of where they went?”

“No Sarge. It’s as if they have vanished into the air, no trace at all” says Mason, as he inspects the surrounding sticks and leaves.

“And don’t bother tryin’ to radio their position” Banks says as he slams down the left behind equipment of Hopper and Fry.

“Our position may be compromised; we need to move immediately. Keep your eyes peeled and guns at the ready; we could be ambushed at any moment” Hicks commands as he begins packing up his equipment. A distant agonising bellow echoes in, causing the group to grip their weapons in silence and turn towards the sky.

“That was Fry” Says Robbins in dismay.

“Where did it come from? East?” Rusty asks with concern.

“It sounded North to me” Answers Banks. Another agonising scream comes echoing in.

“That was definitely South. We gotta go find them” Cries Robbins.

“We’ll have to keep moving towards the extraction point. Any slight detour can compromise our ticket out of here” Orders Hicks.

“What about Fry and Hopper?” asks Rusty.

“Command specifically told us the date and time to assemble at the extraction point with or without Jasmine. Being caught in this territory could cause another world war, and I’m not risking it because two soldiers went AWOL. They could be anywhere in this jungle” Growls Hicks, causing silence across the team. He continues.

“Look, we can’t radio back to base because it’s too risky. So the best we can do is a one mile sweep, but no further. The encampment where Jasmine should have been at will most likely be overrun by militia hot on our tail now. And we don’t have enough rations to miss this extraction”

The squad agree with sorrow before they begin their one mile radius search for Hopper and Fry. With no luck of finding them, they march on through the rainforest. Trudging through the thick jungle, as the distressing screams and howls from Hopper and Fry can be heard, as if the cries were following them. Decreasing the squads morale and making them become anxious and stressed. After a day of searching through the jungle, the squad finally sets up another campsite at nightfall. Hicks orders Rusty and Robbins on night watch, as the occasional agonising howl from Fry and Hopper can still be heard in the distance.

More nightmares of a stalking witch haunt Hicks, as his sleep breaks by the sound of yelling and screaming. He gets up immediately and rubs his eyes for focus as the early morning light and remnants of the fire provide little illumination to the trauma that his team are facing. Banks rolling on the ground, his eyes still shut and screaming from the intense nightmare he is enduring. Robbins sleepwalking, stripped down to his underwear kneeling with his hands in a praying motion, in front of strange circular patterns etched into the dirt, two meters in width with intricate patterns forming the outlines of the shape. Sobbing and whispering as if he is pleading for forgiveness. And Mason, standing motionless with his back to his group with Rusty nowhere to be seen. Hicks immediately gets to work on trying to regroup his squad. He shakes and shouts at Banks waking him into a conscious but disoriented and confused state. He moves to Robbins and slaps him awake.

“Wake up. What the hell are you doing?” Disorientated and confused, he wipes some rogue tears from his cheek. Eventually gasping and falling onto his back from the sight of the strange geometrical shape. Hicks turns to Mason and calls out, in which he doesn’t respond and remains motionless. He cautiously approaches him, occasionally calling his name until he steps in front to face him. His face white in fear as his eyes glazed into the distance. Hicks eventually shakes Mason back to awareness, his eyes locking onto Hicks.

“Did you see something Mason? What happened?” Hicks interrogates.

“There’s something in these woods, sarge” He says with a slight tremble in his voice, and nods towards the trees. They gaze in awe, at the hundreds of freshly carved pentagrams and other symbols of magic that are etched into all of the surrounding trees as far as the can see, from the base of the trunk all the way to the top in a vertical line. All of which are facing their camp.

“What the hell? I don’t remember seeing this last night” cries Robbins at the strange symbol etched into the ground, as he cautiously slides back into his military gear whilst watching his surroundings.

“These are carvings of magic, or a ritual” warns Mason as he turns and faces the large symbol.

“And looks like we were a part of it”

Fed up, Hicks stomps his way to his bedding and begins packing up the campsite.

“Pack your shit, we’re moving out. And where the hell is Rusty?” He spits out. They begin searching and calling out his name, but again with no response. Their calls only drift off into the red morning sky, along with the smoke of their campfire embers.

They continue their march through the forest in a vertical line formation, a few meters apart from each other with Hicks leading the way. Their usual banter and conversations now replaced with silence. Disturbed and shocked that half of the team is missing. The silence breaks from Banks buzzing through the radio, who is last in the formation.

“Sarge, I keep hearing noises behind me. I think we’re being followed” he says with caution.

“Copy. Wide encircle counter” Hicks commands, a counter manoeuvre to disrupt any pursuers. Hicks breaks from formation with Mason following, as they move east and south from the formation to encircle behind Banks to engage any threats that are following them. Through the trees ten meters ahead, Hicks spots something charging towards them, snarling and growling like a wild animal as it comes closer. Sensing the aggression, Hicks raises his rifle and shoots the unidentified creature causing it to slam into the ground. He rushes towards it, but gasps when he reaches his kill, as it is Banks. His lifeless body on the ground, blood oozing out of his bullet wounds. Mason and Robbins rush over.

“What have you done?” Cries Robbins, as he drops his gear and slams onto his knees to cradle Banks.

“I...it looked nothing like Banks. I swear... it was something on all fours” pleads Hicks, completely shocked that he killed his own comrade.

“You fool. Don’t you know your own teammates?” Mason spits out to Hicks in disgust.

“What I shot was something that was growling and wanting to attack. Not Banks” vows Hicks.

“You’re insane. This jungle has turned you mad” Shouts Mason, furious at what Hicks has done.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” snaps Hicks, as they both glare at each other whilst Robbins continues to sob over Banks.

“In fact, who even are you Mason?” Hicks asks in confusion. As he briefly thinks about it, he has no memory of Mason before the helicopter ride. He stares at Mason in contemplation, wondering who this stranger is. As Mason stares back at him, mirroring his thought. He notices his hand slyly hover over his large hunting knife whilst not breaking eye contact. Sensing an impending attack, Hicks carefully places his hand on his pistol, ready to grab as the tense feeling of combat looms over. Mason draws his knife and leaps to attack, but Hicks quick draws his pistol like a cowboy and blasts three shots into Mason. Killing him whilst stepping aside, allowing his lifeless body to crash onto the ground.

“No!” Robbins screams. As Hicks stands with his teeth clenched in an adrenaline rush, looking down at another dead comrade. He notices a bracelet on Mason’s wrist, sparking a flood of memories to come rushing in. Their past missions together, Mason’s gift to Hicks sons first birthday, their nights out in the town drinking. A feeling of dread and horror washes over Hicks, as if he had completely lost control of himself.

“What have I done?” He cries, whilst dropping onto his knees.

“I gotta get out of here” He says, looking up to see Robbins sprinting away into the forest, disappearing into the dense number of trees. He calls out to him but gets distracted by the alarm beeping of his military watch, notifying the extraction is thirty minutes away. He curses as he springs onto his feet, since the extraction point is at least an hour walk away. Leaving his military gear behind, he runs through the forest, smashing through branches and leaves. However, he trips, as if a hand came out of the ground and grabbed his foot. Causing him to fall and roll down a steep embankment, eventually smashing his head on a large rock. Knocking him unconscious.

Hicks eyes slowly raise open in confusion, to find that it is now nightfall. He sluggishly climbs to his feet whilst nursing the side of his head, eventually comprehending the distant sounds of thunderous tribal drums, yet there are no percussionists around. Disorientated, he scans the area and barely recognises from the light of the moon that he’s back at the wooden hut. He staggers towards it, slowly climbing up the wooden stairs, making the floorboards creak. He pushes open the door and enters, to find the same lay out with the wooden altar and candles, even the gargoyle intact. But now a symbol marked on the floor with blood, the same one that was etched into the ground at their last campsite, with all of the squads dog tags piled in the middle of the symbol. A young woman wearing a white dress slumped on the ground in the corner of the room, her hair covering her face and hands tied to the altar.

“Jasmine?” He gasps. The shadow of the gargoyle which flickers on the back wall starts to grow, creeping up onto the ceiling and eventually stopping above Hicks’ head. It covers most of the back wall and ceiling. Spooked by the supernatural danger, he goes to run but the door slams shut and locks. He frantically tries to pull the handle but it doesn’t budge. He hears a hissing sound behind him, making him turn in caution. The young lady slowly climbs to her feet, staring at Hicks with black eyes, her skin pale in a dull white, with what looks like bruises and dirt covering her body. Jolting his memory that she is the witch from his nightmares. The rope falls off her hands, as she opens her mouth to show her razor sharp fangs, and stretches her bony hands out towards Hicks, with nails like daggers. Realising he has no guns, he pulls out his large military knife and braces for combat.

"Come on!" He screams. But it’s no use, as the witch screeches and pounces on him with supernatural force. Concluding Hicks into another victim as his cries echo out into the forest. The seventh sacrifice for the freshly awakened witch, the Mindtaker.