“Captain,” gasped Adams, “What the hell was that thing?” His breaths were labored.
A field medic quickly pulled apart the slashed bulletproof armor and black t-shirt. Tearing open an antiseptic towel package from his kit, he wiped the gaping chest wound and applied a self-adhering bandage.
“It was something that wants to die,” Captain Samuel said as he turned his attention to his communications officer. “Comm, gimme an ETA on a medevac.”
Comm nodded. Moving off to the side, he changed the frequency on the radio strapped to his back. Then he spoke into the microphone clipped near his mouth.
Samuel and his remaining men huddled against the walls for the next fifteen minutes. There were fifteen plus dead and a number of people injured. Samuel carefully peered around a corner of the facility entrance. Blood smeared the walls. Crunching and screaming could still be heard from inside.
The ground rumbled as nearly a dozen vehicles finally pulled up a hundred feet from the makeshift camp, not far from the facility wall.
“Time to move,” Samuel grunted, signaling his men
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