The Gazelle helicopter, designation UNIT Windmill 501, was brought down by the Sidewinder missiles fired from the incoming hostile fighter jets. It went down under the onslaught like it's namesake being attacked by lions on the African Plains.
The missiles tore through the tail, destroying the rear rotor, sending the 'copter into a downward spiral. Falling from 400,000 feet towards the panoramic rainforest below.
They were thrown in to a tangle of bodies and equipment. The pilot was dead before the first missile struck; an alien toxin coursing through his system. Crew and passengers were tossed about by the violent motion.
The wings carrying the Hellfire missiles were ejected by the quick-thinking co-pilot. They fell harmlessly to the ground. The most harm they would do was to land on a poor animal's head.
The co-pilot put the main rotor blades into neutral, and glided the machine towards the canopy of trees below.
Then wood and metal collided.
***
The survivors trudged slowly and wearily into the clearing. Captain Miles Hinden winced as he put too much weight on his twisted ankle. "Take five. I need to rest," he said. He sat down heavily on a fallen tree. The heat was getting to him, his uniform was stuck to his back with sweat. He took his flask from his webbing and swigged far-too-warm water. It tasted vile, but he needed it. Better not drink too much he thought. They'd been on the move for three hours now. Goodness knew how far they were from help, their radio dead, GPS damaged in the crash, no maps due to the nature of their mission. They'd abandoned the wreck of their helicopter - they couldn't even use it for shelter as the hostiles that had shot them down would find them more easily. Whoever they were.
He was sure that human-designed weapons had been used. The fighters were travelling too fast to identify the markings or type. He thought it odd that they hadn't radioed a warning or demanded to know who they were before firing.
No one outside of UNIT knew about this operation. They were flying too low for radar to pick them up. Those planes had known exactly where they were. As if they had the 'copters transponder codes... Put that thought right out of your mind he told himself. That way lies madness. Corruption inside UNIT? Concentrate on getting back to civilisation.
Hinden looked around the clearing. He looked over the other members of his party. He had a good bunch of lads with him.
Troy Attwood, the co-pilot was dealing with an itch in his sling-held arm. His flight suit was torn in places from their crash landing. It was thanks to Troy's skills that they'd landed more-or-less safely. Unfortunately the pilot, Walsden hadn't survived. Blacked out after the first missile struck. Corporal Furness didn't make it either. His neck snapped on impact. They'd had to leave the bodies; too much weight to slow them down. They would be avenged, Hinden promised himself.
Hinden and Attwood had been friends since their first assignment with UNIT, a terrible incident where they'd had to deal with the Zeglons, a force of deadly insane killer robots from outer space. He'd never faced anything as menacing since. Even during his time in the Gulf.
"You okay, Troy?" he asked.
"Fine," his friend replied. Attwood gave him a smile of encouragement. "You look worried, Miles. I'm sure we'll get you back to Bev and Laura."
Hinden's mind filled with the image of his wife and child. "I'm sure I will," he replied. His face was set in a grim smile.
He looked towards Sergeant Dos Santos. The heat didn't seem to be affecting him that badly. He was a large moustachioed local. Hinden hadn't worked with him before, but he came highly recommended. They'd needed a local guide for this mission and his experience of the land came in useful since their crash.
The final member of the group was Private Malik, recently assigned to UNIT. His record said that he'd been involved with some hush-hush operation in Ireland. He didn't seem to be handling the heat too well either.
"Here, you look like you could do with some of this." Hinden offered his canteen to Malik.
He took it gratefully and took a very long swig. Malik handed the bottle back. "Thanks, Captain."
"Sir," called Dos Santos. Hinden hobbled over to where the sergeant was keeping watch.
"What is it, Sergeant?" The Brazilian kept his eyes on the forest behind them, without turning to Hinden. "I can hear movement," he said. "It's getting nearer, sir. We should get moving."
Hinden took this in. "Any idea how many?"
The Sergeant shook his head, making his moustache flap slightly. "Five? Ten? It's hard to tell."
With that the group moved out of the clearing with Hinden taking the lead and Dos Santos taking the rear, covering their tracks.
***
They were crouched inside a dense patch of trees. Hinden was beginning to sweat even more. His legs were starting to get cramp.
Their pursuers had carried on following, as if they knew exactly where they were. Now they'd been hiding for nearly two hours. They'd caught glimpses of uniforms and heard the mutter of distant voices and sounds of movement. They hadn't been noticed. The pursuers had moved on over an hour ago, but they waited to give them time to put some distance between them. You never know, they might come back, he told himself.
The others seemed to be taking this okay. Malik had spent the time fiddling with a tiny silver cross round his neck and muttering prayers under his breath. Attwood had sat there nursing his arm, his eyes were closed, merely resting. Dos Santos was the most alert. He was at the very edge of their hiding place, with Hinden's automatic pistol in his hand.
They hadn't been able to rescue their weapons from the helicopter, only taking with them what they'd been carrying. Between the four of them they had one Browning 9mm automatic pistol, a couple of hand grenades and two bayonets. Malik and himself held the bayonets. Attwood had a hand grenade in his good arm.
Dos Santos gave the all clear. Malik looked at Hinden, uncertainty in his eyes. "What now, Sir?"
Hinden replied, "We move on. Get back to civilisation and arrange pick up."
As they moved out Malik glanced at Attwood, who smiled in return, got up and left their hiding place. Malik's fingers still clutched the cross.
***
The moonlight reflected on the dull black surface of the pistol. The sounds of the jungle had died down at sunset, but had been replaced by even more noise from the nocturnal creatures that roamed the country.
Hinden glanced around for signs of predators that might be approaching. All he saw were his men, sleeping. Dos Santos seemed fast asleep, his moustache flapping every time he breathed out. He was also snoring heavily. Troy Attwood was also in deep sleep, the damaged arm still tucked against his chest in its sling. Malik opened his eyes. "Go back to sleep soldier, it's not your watch yet," Hinden told him.
"It's all right, Sir. I'm not that tired." He stood and walked over to the tree that Hinden was leaning against. He had a troubled look on his face. "Can I ask you something, Sir?"
"Certainly," replied Hinden.
Malik continued, "In all your time with UNIT, have you got used to the concept of aliens?"
"Just about. It gets easier," he replied. "The first time I was on a mission for UNIT it involved -"
Malik interrupted him. "Have you ever seen anything REALLY strange, sir?"
"Like what, for instance?"
Malik gulped and glanced nervously around him. "I think I saw something, sir. Before we crashed." Hinden grabbed the young man by the shoulders. "What did you see? In the 'copter?" Malik nodded. He began to shake. "What was it?" The Private continued to shake, his voice came out jittery...
"From where I was sat in the 'copter, I could see the pilots," began the young soldier. "I think a voice started to come over the radio but I couldn't make out any words. I think Corporal Furness heard it too. Then the pilot, Walsden .reached for his side arm. Before he could draw it -" Malik broke off. His shaking became more violent. His breathing became deeper. Hinden shook him.
"Tell me." Malik began to shake his head. Fear was in his eyes, the cold, pale moonlight reflecting off them. The Captain looked Malik directly in the young man's eyes, speaking gently he said, "Please. I have to know."
Malik continued uncertainly, "Before he could... Something happened to Flight Lieutenant Attwood." The trembling became more pronounced.
"Go on. I have to know what happened," said Hinden. Malik then fainted. Hinden slapped him in the face a couple of times, but nothing happened. He moved the young soldier over to where he'd been sleeping and lay him down. "We can continue this in the morning," he said to himself. As he stood back up, Attwood was laid there with his eyes wide open.
"I couldn't sleep. The pain." He indicated his injured arm.
"Do you want a pain killer?"
Attwood shook his head. "I'll be all right. Save them for when it gets really bad."
"Okay," Hinden replied. "Get back to sleep, though. That's an order."
Attwood grinned. "I'll try, sir," Hinden couldn't help smiling back.
***
Dos Santos shook Hinden awake. Damn! He'd fallen asleep while on watch. He sat up and looked into the worried face of the Sergeant. "It's Malik, sir. He's disappeared."
"Have you looked for him?" Hinden stood up. He noticed his pistol lying on the ground by his feet, he reached down for it.
"Not yet, sir. I thought I'd wake you and the Flight Lieutenant first."
"Good idea. We'll search in a delta pattern. Don't want to bring too much attention to ourselves."
Attwood approached him. "Did you see anything, Troy?" asked Hinden.
"Not a thing. Sorry. The last I saw of Malik was when he fainted last night and you laid him down."
"How's the arm this morning?"
"Better. Still don't think I can use it though." Attwood moved his arm experimentally, but soon gave up, wincing in pain.
"Don't worry, Troy. You're not completely useless to us. We must find, Malik." As Hinden set off, he noticed the weak morning sunlight glinting off an object on the ground. He bent down to look at what it was. He picked up the tiny silver cross that belonged to Malik and held it up in the light.
***
Hinden searched his area of the forest. The midday sun was shining its heat right on to him. He checked his canteen: only a few drops of precious water left. Best to save them he thought. He moved on.
***
After searching for hours he'd seen no sign of Malik. He was about to turn back to their camp when he heard a scream. Could it be Malik? Or the others? Had their pursuers caught up? He ran towards the sound of the scream, his pistol drawn.
He ran breathless towards the campsite. Dos Santos was on his knees in front of Troy Attwood. who seemed to be holding the Sergeant's throat in his hands. As he got nearer he saw Attwood take his hands away, then he noticed the spikes sticking out of them. A green substance leaking slowly from them, the same stuff was on Dos Santos' neck. The spikes for want of a better word reminded him of thorns, but they were a yellowy colour. He stopped running and stared, as the Sergeant's body fell to the floor. Hinden stepped on a branch, the snapping sound reverberated around him. Attwood turned towards the sound. Hinden saw his eyes were glowing, as if there was a fire behind the pupils.
He raised his pistol and aimed it at Attwood. "What are you?" he shouted. Attwood or whatever he was remained where he stood. His eyes turned back to normal. The spikes stayed pointing out of his palms. "Where is Attwood?"
Attwood replied, his voice level. "He is where I left him at UNIT. I'm surprised you never suspected, Miles."
"Going to gloat now? Reveal your cunning alien plans to me?"
"I have no need for that. My associates will be along shortly to rescue me."
"They're the ones who shot us down?"
Attwood laughed. "It was your own people. They must have found the body I have based this body-print on. Of course they couldn't allow an infiltrator to be involved in such a delicate mission."
Hinden boiled up with anger. He pulled the trigger. Nothing. The hammer clicked on an empty chamber. Attwood smiled at him. "I took the liberty of removing the ammunition while you slept." The Captain launched himself towards Attwood. He flew through the air and slammed into him. He managed to miss being pierced by the spikes by luck rather than judgement.
The two of them fell to the floor, winded. They both struggled for a dominant position. Hinden drew his bayonet and tried to stab Attwood in the face. He tried even more desperately to sting Hinden. The soldier threw himself off Attwood and stood ready with his bayonet. They circled each other both taking tentative steps, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Attwood lunged, his hands outstretched like a zombie from some cheap horror film. Hinden dodged at the last moment, he twisted round and drove the blade into his attackers back. He screamed in pain and before Hinden's eyes he began to glow a bright red. The light continued to get brighter. The light faded away to reveal the form of what could only be described as an orange foetus. Its body was covered in suckers, like an octopus. Hinden recognised the creature at once: a Zygon.
"I thought we'd dealt with you Zygons a long time ago."
The Zygon lunged for him again, knocking him to the ground, again the spikes missed. He felt the bayonet fall from his hands beyond his reach.
The creature was looming over him and seemed to be reaching down to finish him off. He was completely exhausted and could offer no resistance. Please, Lord let this be quick he thought, his mind flashing back to Sunday School lessons he'd had as a child.
What happened next was such a blur of images and sounds that he didn't even realise what was going on until it was over.
The Zygon reared back, screaming in pain. Dos Santos was stood behind the creature, his bayonet dripping green blood. The creature writhed on the ground. The sounds totally inhuman.
The Sergeant helped him up. "You should be dead," said Hinden.
Dos Santos looked very weak. "I think I'll survive, sir. I have a high tolerance of poisons." Hinden didn't say anymore, he'd heard rumours that UNIT were experimenting with soldiers DNA. Still, Dos Santos' voice was strained. "What now, sir?"
Hinden looked at the Zygon corpse by his feet. "We sit tight and wait for help to arrive. They should find us easily if we stay here."
He could hear footsteps and moving branches nearby. "If I'm not mistaken, here it is now." He looked towards where he thought the sounds were coming from. The Sergeant did the same.
Figures approached from the edge of the trees, into the clearing: Zygons. Hinden turned to the other side: More of them. Completely surrounded.
They just stood there watching the humans. Hinden slowly picked up his bayonet from the ground. He gave Dos Santos a look. "It's been a pleasure serving with you, Sergeant." He gave a grim smile in return. "You too, Captain."
They both turned towards the Zygons, weapons raised. They ran towards their enemies, screaming at the top of their voices.
THE END
