Corpses in Wonderland

“...It’s a Holiday in Cambodia...it’s tough kid but it’s life!

...It’s a Holiday in Cambodia...Don’t forget to pack a Wife!”- Eric Reed Boucher

The curry dish sat on the desk in an empty bag with the plastic fork leaning out of it. Malcolm paced the perimeter of the office, with his fists raised and punching the air. He was in an admittedly classical mood and the rhythms of his ducks and swings matched the tempo of a classic Thousand Foot Krutch single:

“...It's just about to break, it's more than I can take...

...Everything's about to change...”

Darkness suddenly enveloped the room and snapped Malcolm out of his daydream. He had to give it a minute for his eyes to adjust and the shapes returned to the room. He went over to the couch to grab Crystal from where she lay. Malcolm cranked the safety off and quickly rushed over to the door. When he opened it, the darkness had embraced the entirety of the visitor’s center. He could see more than a hundred troops of both companies falling into position.

It was the voice of Daniels somewhere by the railway. He thundered throughout the interior like the bursts of a long-range rifle. “SECTION ONE, PLATOON A! COVER WINDOWS! SECTION TWO, FALL OUTSIDE AND TAKE COVER! PLATOON C! COVER THE TUNNEL! BRAVO! STANDBY AND TAKE POSITIONS INSIDE THE BUILDING!”

Malcolm checked his digital watch.

Good, it’s not an EMP…nineteen-twelve!? What the fuck?

Malcolm honed in on Daniels’ shouts as he crossed the room. “What the fuck Temp!?” He almost startled Daniels when he appeared in front of him. “It’s been more than half an hour! Where the fuck is our boy at Casey!?”

“He never made it back! I assumed he talked to you on the channels!” Daniels dropped his AR-Fifteen to his waist level.

“FOR CHRISTS SAKE!” Malcolm stared into the black hole that was the aggression tunnel where the darkness was too concealing. He checked the company coms, “Forrest, where are you? Come in Over!”

After a brief pause, Forrest whispered. “Nelson. I-It happened here too, we’re in the dark. I need silence.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve got movement…We’re close to the end. We’ve been maintaining distance. They looked packed when I saw them.”

“Did they look like military?” Malcolm asked.

“No…” Forrest answered. “They seem to be civilians. I’m mulling over how to approach this.”

Malcolm thought to himself. “Do you have anyone who could translate?”

“No.”

“Switch to your flashlights and get their attention. If no one can speak English, give the people your com and I’ll make out what I can.”

“Yea…okay.” Forrest exhaled through the speaker. It was followed by the very faint sounds of him clipping his emergency flashlight to the barrel of his assault weapon. Malcolm was pacing the perimeter along the rail line.

Forrest continued, “I’m about to make contact.”

“I read you.”

“Uh, attention civilians!” Forrest spoke, “This is the United States Army! We’re here to provide medical assistance and extraction! We are going to approach you now. Please-…….W-W-WH-WHOA WHOA WHAT-“ An ear-piercing recital of automatic fire pounded Malcolm’s ear. There was soon an underscore adding a melody; it was the shrill white noise of Forrest dying, screeching as a victim of demonic possession; it dragged without a pause for breath.

Malcolm’s legs began to wobble as he started to feel cornered by the surrounding companies. He switched off the speaker, hoping the sensation of frost would alleviate. “Fireball, and Platoon C on me!” He uttered each syllable with infallible dread. “Daniels! Keep a sharp eye out there!” He cranked the chamber of Crystal, checking for any jams.

Clairet hopped over the sandbags and landed next to him. “What’s going on Captain?” her expression grew stark as she registered his.

Malcolm leaned into her as the forty-four members of Platoon C descended. “Forrest is dead.” Malcolm whispered the French into her ear. “I JUST heard it. You stay behind me, keep the rest at your flank.”

Clairet’s eyes became colder than his and she understood that Malcolm was hesitant to even enter the chasm. But she would follow him, and off Malcolm went into the tunnel while screwing his flashlight on the barrel of his AK.

…I’m getting to lead from the front…

It wasn’t long of a march before they could hear the civilians’ commotion inside the hovel. Malcolm kept his rifle pointed to the ground and his eyes directed to the front. They were coming up to two guards who saluted as they passed.

An echoing voice on Malcolm’s earpiece became clear. “NELSON! NELSON COME IN!”

A wave of relief was overpowering, but the medic’s tone of voice was deflating. “What the hell?!”

“BATTON DOWN THE HATCHES OVER THERE!” the medic screamed as if they were in the Navy. He was screaming over what sounded like the cries of the damned and the additional rifle fire complimented it.

“What the fuck is that noise!?” Malcolm’s voice now drowned out the shrill whisps of civilians.

“AREN’T YOU IN TOUCH WITH CASEY? WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

Malcolm’s head was spinning. “What’s happening!?”

“BOMBS ARE GOING OFF! I’M GETTING SHELLED OUTSIDE OF THE BASE!”

Malcolm’s brows raised. “By whom!?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” The medic continued to panic.

“Do you have visual!?”

“I WOULD KNOW IF I DID!”

“Dammit! How close are you to the Casey?”

“THERES LIKE A HUNDRED CHOPPERS IN THE AIR! I CAN SEE THE BURSTS FROM THEIR GUNS! WE’RE GETTING JUMPED; YOU WE’RE FUCKING RIGHT!”

“I know I am! J-just finish your objective and hunker down at Casey!”

‘I ALREADY ABANDONED THE TRUCK! EVERYONES FLEEING THE ROADS!”

Malcolm’s nodded. “Don’t get yourself killed! Over and out!” He switched the speaker off and swallowed the silence. Slowly, Malcolm turned around and lifted his eyes, facing Clairet and the Platoon. They stared back, some in confusion, others in anticipation.

Malcolm’s voice was hushed but the echo carried it across. “Section One, hold right here. Section Two and Fireball on me.” He did an about face and continued his march around the civilians.

The enemy will have machine guns; we’re fish in a barrel. What the fuck else am I going to do though? No one’s supposed to get left behind…I should have permission to sink this fucking cave.

A voice called from the darkness. “HEY CAPT?” Fuckaroo Jack called. “WE HAVE MORE FEVERS; THIS REALLY CAN’T WAIT!”

“GODDAMMIT!” Malcolm raged. “Fireball, go deal with it!”

As quickly as she saluted, she pivoted to the left and carefully crossed around the perturbed civilians to find Jack. Now Malcolm was the sole Commanding Officer that Second Section had to look up to.

After passing several guards from Platoon B, Malcolm intersected Master Sergeant Chavez. Malcolm gave a preemptive “At ease” before his friend could salute. The two privates had been previously leaning against the wall. Now, they were staring at the ceiling and down the long tube as the faintest bursts echoed from far away; they now snapped out of it and focused their guns down into the darkness.

Malcolm whispered. “They’re retreating.”

“Should we even still be here?” Javier looked at him.

“No…we shouldn’t.” Malcolm drummed the grip of his Crystal. “Take the barbed wire down…we’ll go it alone. Like old times.”

Javier raised a brow. “You have a plan?”

“I’ve had a change of it.” Malcolm lowered his hand to crank the Sig he had holstered. “Too many of us will risk friendly fire in this proximity. Take the wire down.”

“You heard him!” Javier shouted, “Take it down!”

The two privates obeyed and proceeded to untangle the barricade. Malcolm turned to his Staff Sergeant. “Hold here. Just the two of us will take point. Set the wire back up immediately and keep it until I give the order.”

“Yes sir!”

Malcolm looked at Javier and gave the hand signal to advance. Side by side, Malcolm raised his AK forward as did Javier his M-Four A-One. They moved in lockstep formation. The sharp fencing was immediately placed back up and they pressed into the heart of the darkness.

“Forrest is dead. I can promise you that.” Malcolm continued to whisper under the repeated echoes. “That’s why they’re routing. A good kick in the ass is all they need to send those gooks packing.”

“How do you know he’s gone?”

“Because I heard it over the speaker. I heard the gunfire, and he was the first I could hear screaming.”

“He might have just been captured. He’s an officer he’s more-”

“If you heard the same scream as I, you’d know it too.” Malcolm affirmed. “He’s dead.”

“So… We just waltz over to the source huh?” Javier asked.

“Better two than too many.” Malcolm tried to assure. “They just need someone to look up to and I’m positive the first lieutenants would’ve eaten lead too. So, they’re scared shitless. We just need to provide cover, order them to get their shit together, and when they see they’ve got nowhere to run they’ll rally behind me.”

“And when we get shot at?” Javier pretended to wince.

“Aim.”

“Ha! That’s great advice.”

“You have permission to turn around.” Malcolm responded.

“You know I’m not gonna do that.”

“That’s why I offered.” Malcolm smirked.

Javier chuckled. “Trying not to feel bad huh?”

Malcolm glanced at his friend. “More like I don’t want to have to drag your ass to safety.”

“That incident in Kandahar was a one-off.” Javier returned the smile, the comradery helped Malcolm’s heartrate. The two of them pressed on; the echo of gunfire continued to reverberate in random patterns of short and elongated bursts.

They finally arrived at the entrance to the end of the of the hovel. Malcolm looked at Javier and gave the signal to cross sides as they approached. After Malcolm switched to the right side, he ordered Javier to halt, they were covered by the walls. Malcolm switched Crystal up, being ambidextrous, and his back was able to face parallel to the wall. As did Javier opposite while right-handed with his rifle. Both beams of their flashlights were crossing.

The pulse in the air was hypnotic. The waves became diluted with an additional pulse, a stretch of bellowing. It came from beyond the darkness. The screech was complimented voices yelling at each other. Malcolm flashed his light, counting on a response from the sillhouetes. Additional flashlights emanated beyond, and a uniform could be distinguished.

“Comet!” Malcolm shouted. “Comet!” he shouted again with no response. “OM ME! ON ME!” Malcolm bellowed and threw himself in the open with his gun lowered. He was plowed into and flew back, not seeing the soldier fall forward nor did he notice the dozen soldiers stampeding from behind. The soldier landed on his knees and was not helped up by the barking soldiers in full retreat. They simply brushed past Malcolm and the endless stampede continued. Malcolm scooted further to the right as Javier yelled for the rest to get themselves together.

“RALLY! ON ME!” Malcolm continued as he stood.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” A nameless soldier bellowed.

Malcolm pressed his com. “COME IN! OVER!”

“I’M HERE SIR! OVER!” Javier’s specialist responded in the earpiece.

“THEY’RE COMING! TAKE THE FENCE DOWN! WE’LL BE RIGHT BEHIND THEM! OVER AND OUT!” Malcolm turned off his receiver. “Chavez!”

“SIR!”

“You heard me!?” Malcolm asked.

“We cover them and fall back!” Javier asked.

Scores of soldiers retreated past them, each with the panic of hunted Elephants. One soldier had no insignia, a fresh recruit, and he began to scream like a child. It pierced Malcolm’s eardrums as he ran past. Now, both Malcolm and Javier could see the flashes.

There was a bloodcurdling scream after a new burst of fire, and it halted. All that was left was the rest of the bobbling heads screaming for one another to move. Something was being drowned out that wasn’t the slamming of boots or shouts; it was in beastly multiples and sounded like a hole to hell. Eight more were coming and they blinded Malcolm’s sight of the enemy.

The silhouettes were packed and their ravings inhuman. Their shape was that of a bear. Only the dropping of one reminded Malcolm that they were still mortals. But when they were in his sight, their faces were wrong. Their clothes tattered and were blacker than the tunnel. They were in full sprint and gaining ground rapidly. They seemed to have no weapons, only their flailing hands, and a chilling war cry that one would think only exists in a propaganda film.

“EVERYBODY DOWN!” Malcolm ordered the remaining troops. To no avail. “I SAID ON THE FLOOR! DROP!”

The final four obeyed; each reacted simultaneously as if it were a live fire drill. As soon as they were on the ground, both Malcolm and Javier let loose a flurry of bullets. Only a few dropped and they had the effect of knocking a bowling pin. Tripped bodies knocked the enemy behind, and they were getting trampled in the process.

Two enemies leaped on the nearest soldier. Immediately he added a new scream while the banshees atop of him ripped the helmet off and slammed the head into the ground. The other three soldiers looked in horror as they sprang to their feet and ran away. Soon, one of the Koreans grabbed the pinned soldier’s face, lifting his head to look into his eyes, he then sank his teeth into the nose. Malcolm and Javier had just enough time to reload before the wave of enemies trampled over their fallen comrades; arms stretched out, grasping the air.

Javier, without orders, chose to advance.

“NO! NO!” Malcolm screamed.

Javier let out a new barrage at the charging mass, creating a new bowling ball effect. He clicked the magazine out of its chamber and swung the rifle behind him.

Malcolm didn’t see the blade appear in Javier’s hands. He plunged it into the primary assailant’s face. The eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he stopped chewing on the grunt. The Korean turned limp, and Javier retracted his knife from the gouged eye socket. The second assailant mauling the backside lunged.

Javier grabbed his attacker by the hair and thrust his knife into the chest. It barely halted the attacker’s advance and he gnawed at Javier’s sleeved arm. The lunatic pressed him into the wall and began to viciously snap while Javier withdrew the knife; he stabbed the throat.

The crowd was nearly upon both. With a clear line of sight, Malcolm advanced, unleashing his fresh hailstorm of rounds. He successfully dropped three, but others soaked the bullets like a sponge. Javier gave up on the knife, he pressed his sidearm against the attacker’s chin and blew him away. He then turned his attention to the horde next to him.

It was too late. The gun was slapped out of Javier’s hands. The crowd was upon him and the private once more. It required all his strength to hold them at bay, but Javier fell backwards and continued to resist the pile of clawing fingers. As the soldier screamed in agony next to him, Javier’s screams were grunting desperation. The pile snapped their jaws closer to him. Blood was pooling on the floor as the private next to him was being mauled. “GET OUT OF HERE!”

“JAVI, NO!”

Jaws snapped shut on Javier’s collar bone, he screamed so loud his lungs sounded like they could burst. His arms caved, and he was buried in the pile, his head contorting in a pool of blood that would soon become his.

“JAVI!” Attackers were brushing past both him and the private. Malcolm fired his rifle, and the bullets brushed though them. As one was nearly upon Malcolm, he grabbed the enemy by the face and immediately crashed it like a raw egg into the side of the wall which revealed brain matter inside of a confusing black mass. “PSYCHOTIC MOTHERFUCKER!”

Javier’s last conscious effort was to scream, “RUN!” before succumbing to the blind agony of his shrieks.

Malcolm spun around and began his own shameful retreat with nothing more than Javier’s dying scream echoing past him, yet he was drowned by the sounds of a ravenous crowd following.