Finch's infrared torch lit up Newman like a spotlight, and he watched the Private First Class's rifle twist and turn from one side of the massive opening to the other. Newman’s beam swept frantically, searching for something through the phosphorescent haze as he began backing away.

  Even from twenty meters away, Finch could hear Newman’s panicked breathing through the increasingly frantic orders over the net. "Propane, SITREP! NOW! What's your status? Reyes, respond!" Mack, the SEAL platoon's commanding officer, voice crackled over his radio.

  The Lance Corporal didn't know what the hell was happening. He vaguely saw Newman drop someone or something through the phosphor haze, but couldn't figure out exactly what went down. All Finch knew was that something was out there, and Newman shot it, and it looked like the other teams figured that was the case as well.

  Comms were a mess with different teams calling in, reporting shots fired, and requesting clarification. It turned into complete chaos.

  "Jackal, this is Menace. We heard shots. Do we have contact?"

  "Propoane, moving to support—"

  "NEGATIVE, all stations hold position!" Command cut through. "Propane, report!"

  Newman’s movements were jerky as his rifle swung from right to left, as if he were trying to track an invisible threat. When he finally reached Finch, he pressed his back against the concrete wall before jumping into the air as if something had bitten him in the ass, then slipped back into the hallway with the rest of his team.

  Coming up from the rear of their formation, Sergeant Reyes crept forward with the AT4 on his shoulder, slowly peering around the area, looking for whatever was being engaged.

  "Yo, what the fuck is going on!?" he hissed at Finch and Newman, taking point while Pham moved up beside him with another AT4. "What the hell are you even shooting at? They're lighting us up on comms!"

  Newman's heart rate increased as he continued scanning the entire opening with his weapon’s infrared torch. He had backed all the way into the safety of the hallway, past Finch and Reyes, while heaving ragged breaths.

  That fucking thing's down here, man," Newman whispered. "That fucking thing... it snatched that dude up like... like some kind of horror movie, man." His hands trembled so much that he had to let go of his weapon and let it hang from its sling. "Yo, we gotta get the fuck out of here.

  Reyes shifted the AT4's weight on his shoulder. "What thing? The walker thing?"

  I don’t fuckin’ know, man! Jesus, Sarge, it moved so fast that it was a goddamn blur!” Newman waved his arms frantically. “How the hell was I supposed to get a good look at it? All I know is that it’s big, and it just fucking splattered some dude, okay?!

  Finch’s brow furrowed as he raised his hand in a halting gesture. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He responded, grabbing Newman’s plate carrier. “What the hell are you talking about? Start from the beginning.”

  “Okay, look..." Newman said after steadying his breath. “There were dudes hiding in the bunks—I don’t know if they were armed, but I dropped one.” He explained, peering behind Finch’s shoulder to make sure something wasn’t lurking out in the open. “The other ran and then something just..." Newman started to reenact the entire debacle with his hands. “Some big piece of stuff flashed by and grabbed him. Right out of the air. Like they weighed nothing."

  Reyes clacked down on his push-to-talk, cutting off the increasingly aggressive status requests flooding the net. "This is Propane, hold one."

  The sergeant knew that wouldn’t stop the bickering and shouting over the net, but it gave him some leeway as he simply stared at Newman with an unreadable expression. The PFC couldn’t tell what kind of look his fireteam leader had through the darkness and phosphorous haze of their night vision, but he could probably guess, given the circumstances.

  Part of Reyes wanted to blow Newman off. He wanted to tell the PFC that he was just talking stupid and was probably drunk again. But after the past few hours, anything was on the table. After what he had seen himself, Reyes couldn’t help but take every spooky shadow at face value and wanted to hit it with his AT4. Not after what he had seen.

  Glancing at Finch, Reyes saw that his Lance Corporal was unusually tense and fidgety. Finch kept nervously peering around the corner with his weapon raised, as if trying to double, triple, and quadruple check if something wasn’t sneaking up on them. Everyone felt it—something was inside, and none of them wanted to test whether Newman was just seeing things or to investigate further.

  Because while Newman might be an annoying, insubordinate shitbag, when it came to being in the suck, he was one of the best Marines to have when the shit hit the fan. And if he was losing it, then things had really gone south.

  Unable to tolerate the yapping, Reyes pulled the cord connecting his Comtacs to his radio, silencing the traffic. He simply couldn’t hear himself think and had to decide whether or not to make the call based on a blur.

  Reyes grabbed Newman's plate carrier aggressively and shook him. "You're sure?" His tone was deadly serious. "You're absolutely fucking sure that's what happened?"

  Newman didn't hesitate. "I swear to fucking God, Sarge. I swear on my goddamn momma I saw something the size of a damn F150 just swipe that son of a bitch like some kind of demon."

  Noticing the fear in Newman's tone and the no-nonsense answer, Reyes knew what he had to do. The Sergeant released him and turned to Pham in the background. "Pham! Get up here. If Newman or Finch tells you to smoke something with that AT4, you smoke it! And check your back blast!"

  The Sergeant then turned back to Newman and Finch, gesturing with his hand to both sides of the hallway. "I want you two hugging these corners. Crisscross your sectors of fire, with Pham right down the middle, ready to respond if any of you see the damn thing. I don't want that fucking thing surprising us in a tight-ass corridor."

  Setting his AT4 down and leaning it against the wall, Reyes plugged his Comtacs back into his radio. "This is Propane. We have confirmed visual on the walker in Tunnel Seven. Two potential enemy KIA—one eliminated by one of our elements and the other by the walker. Requesting immediate QRF."

  At the relay of that information, the net went dead silent. There had been sporadic contact with enemy forces throughout the entire complex, but it was just wounded that had been left behind or stragglers that were quickly put down.

  "Propane, confirm last. Have you made contact or identified the Wyrm? Over." Command's voice suddenly cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.

  Almost caught off guard by the request, Reyes flinched slightly before turning his attention to Newman and giving him a hard look. "You’re sure about this? You're 100% sure you saw that thing?"

  "I swear on my life," Newman said with his chest in an eerily serious tone that belied his usual unseriousness.

  The sergeant’s thumb hovered over his push-to-talk button and closed his eyes in an effort to organize his thoughts. This was going to be a do-or-die situation. The information he was about to relay was going to grind everything to a halt and send every available resource down his throat.

  Propane confirms. We have spotted and made contact with enemy Wyrm," Reyes spoke with conviction as he thumbed the toggle. He trusted his guys, and if they saw something, they fucking saw something. "One of my elements made contact and eliminated one potential hostile. Another ran, and that's when we made contact with the Wyrm. It... intercepted the runner. Grabbed him mid-stride. Over."

  There was another, longer round of silence, as if everyone had been stunned. But Reyes knew better; the decision makers topside must have been running around like chickens with their heads chopped off, arguing and mapping out exactly where the sighting had occurred. Command must be referencing, cross-referencing, and plotting out just what to do and who to send to Reyes and his team.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  And as if almost on cue, the communication network exploded into a flurry of orders, updates, and acknowledgments. It was controlled chaos. The massive amalgamation of units and ad hoc command centers shifted toward Reyes in real time.

  "All stations, all stations, this is Dominion. FRAGO follows. Break—" The commander's voice was steady, professional. "All forward elements, establish a defensive posture, consolidate and report. How copy?"

  "Viper copies—"

  "Nitro solid copy—"

  "Outlaw, copies all—"

  Reyes listened as the entire underground operation pivoted on his call. Through the static, he could hear the machine grinding into motion.

  "Menace and Mamba, collapse your sectors and redirect to tunnel seven. Time now."

  Mamba, Menace Outlaw, I want your drone operators to start pulling back, including your Fidos," a new voice cut in—the SEAL commander. "Nitro, Viper, you are to hold your position and maintain your dominance over intersections Delta and Golf. “I want weapons tight unless PID on the Wyrm. We're not shooting each other in this clusterfuck, nor are we going to blow your load too early. We don’t have enough AT4s for a fuck up. Acknowledge by element.”

  Reyes heaved a heavy sigh. "Fuck..." he muttered quietly, lifting his M27 and pointing it into the darkness, his infrared torch cutting through the void. "Alright, you heard them. We hold here. Defensive posture. Nobody moves past this point."

  As the unending series of affirmations came through, Newman couldn’t help but look back and give Reyes an incredulous look the sergeant couldn’t see in the darkness. "Jesus Christ, Sarge. The whole fucking task force is moving because of us?" the private whispered,

  Before Reyes could answer, Command came back: "All stations, SALUTE report in sequence. Starting with Propane."

  Reyes keyed his mic. "Propane reports: Size—unknown, estimated vehicle-sized based on witness. Activity—grabbed and killed one dismounted hostile. Location—Tunnel Seven, main barracks area. Unit—unknown creature designation 'Wyrm.' Time—two mikes ago. Equipment—unknown, appears to use physical attacks. Over."

  The Sergeant then looked at Newman, who was staring dead at him. “Yeah, that's what happens when you run into fuckin’ armor underground. Keep watching your sectors and stop looking back here.”

  Newman couldn’t help but let out an indignant grumble as he brought his weapon back up and scanned his sector. They were already positioned defensively, but the weight of what was happening settled on them like a weighty thing. The network was full of different teams being micromanaged, vectors being adjusted, the entire assault pivoting to deal with one threat.

  There was a tense silence that fell over the team as they watched their sectors. No one wanted to tell any jokes, and no one was having fun anymore. All pretense and illusions of grandeur had been utterly shattered. There was no glory nor badass firefight in a near pitch-black room with a monster in it. Just a sickening dread that made everyone just wanted to hurl.

  But out of nowhere, Pham spoke up, cutting through the tension with a voice barely above a whisper. "You know, when I joined the Marines after they first attacked, I thought I'd be in a forest fighting elves or orcs or something... not..."

  His voice trailed off, shaky.

  "Not hunting a truck-sized monster in a deep, dark tunnel, God knows how far underground?" Finch finished the thought.

  "Yeah..." Pham replied, adjusting his grip on the AT4.

  The darkness ahead seemed to press in on them, and through their NVGs, every shadow could be hiding that damn thing. Somewhere in that maze of overturned bunks and debris, something that shouldn't exist was hunting. It already went on a rampage on the poor bastards down here, and it already snatched someone earlier. Now it seemed to be lurking around, hunting them, and the Marines knew it.

  With all this chaos unfolding, Finch began to feel the stress get to him. As Pham said, he envisioned something entirely different when he signed the dotted line. Bullets whizzing and snapping overhead, or even explosions shattering trees while he curled into a ball inside a foxhole. That was his worst-case scenario for his first introduction to combat.

  However, when he'd spoken to a few SEALs earlier, they'd all indicated this was somehow worse than their usual work in the Middle East, Southeast Asia and even South America. Far, far, worse.

  Pushing up his NODs briefly, Finch pressed his fingers into his eyes and grimaced. Pressure built in the front of his skull, and he just wanted to ward off the headache any way he could. He knew he couldn’t keep his eyes off target for long, so when he finally removed his hand and looked up, he stared into the abyss beyond.

  The Lance Corporal stood there for several long seconds, just trying to make sense of the dark, eerie shapes. Once again, that stupid lizard brain started pestering him, needling him to satisfy his morbid curiosity. Finch knew he shouldn't—this was a terrible goddamn idea—but the what-ifs kept nagging at him. These shapes were strange, and the outlines didn't quite add up to just knocked-over furniture. It was hard to get a clear picture under night vision; the clarity just wasn't there.

  So Finch did something stupid. So complete and utterly stupid that he should have been shot on the spot.

  He thumbed his white light.

  The beam struck a group of knocked-over lockers and bunks.

  "Yo, what the fuck?!" Reyes hissed quietly.

  Finch looked back apologetically and released the pressure switch, but something caught his eye in the corner. His head snapped back toward that spot, where he thought he had seen it, and he pressed the switch again. A powerful, blinding beam of light drowned out another pile of debris knocked over, but Finch noticed something.

  Just as he toggled his light, something reflected it. A microsecond later, it winked out of existence almost as if... It was as if Finch was back in the forest as a kid, shining lights into the woods and seeing the reflections of animal eyeballs. It had the same look, but it was almost like an eyelid had shut, snuffing out the reflection.

  And as he finally got a good look through the cluster of overturned furniture, he saw it—just below, the eyeball had been a gaping maw hiding, waiting for them to step out of the hallway.

  Just as Reyes was about to start yelling, Finch let out a high-pitched yelp that caught everyone off guard. "OH! OH FUCK!"

  All pretense of professionalism was tossed in the trash as Finch threw his safety all the way forward and held down the trigger. A staccato of suppressed gunfire echoed out, causing everyone to basically jump out of their skin. A menacing, horrible roar erupted and debris went flying in every direction as whatever was hiding in the mass of bunks and lockers threw them all over the place in an effort to orient most of its armored hide towards its attackers.

  Newman was the second to react, raising his weapon to his shoulder and yanking the trigger repeatedly now that the damned thing was out in the open. "SHOOT IT, PHAM! FUCKING SHOOT IT! FUCKING SHOOT IT, YOU GODDAMN IDIOT!"

  Reyes was running for his AT4 when he looked over and saw Pham orienting his own toward the monster. The Sergeant realized exactly where he was standing—right in front of the back blast.

  Instead of grabbing his shoulder-launched anti-tank weapon, Reyes elected to do something entirely different. Before Pham could get a good fix, Reyes chose to dash straight toward Pham and dive out into the open. Even with the confined-space variant of the AT4, he didn't want to test whether the backblast could still kill you or not.

  Just as Reyes dove into the opening, a thunderous, concussive blast engulfed the hallway, lighting everything up like a roman candle. And just in the nick of time, Reyes had made it, sliding out into the barracks proper in a dramatic fashion. But that small victory was short-lived, for a fraction of a second later, an explosion shook the complex, but it erupted on the other side of the open area.

  Pham had missed, and the monsters' menacing growls were getting closer. It was moving cautiously, keeping its heaviest armored parts oriented in the Marine’s direction, but this gave Reyes time to escape.

  The Sergeant scrambled back into the hallway, kicking, slipping, and scraping on the ground in blind panic while Finch and Newman reloaded and kept firing. "CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT! FUCKING CONTACT!" Reyes was yelling into his headset, pressing the push-to-talk button as he scrambled away.

  The communications net erupted in complete chaos, but Reyes wasn't paying attention to any of it. He grabbed Pham by his plate carrier and roughly shoved him down the hallway. "RUN! FUCKING RUN!" the Sergeant yelled as he finally found his footing.

  No one needed to be told twice. They took off after their team leader like bats out of hell.

  Just as they took off, Newman managed to grab the other AT4 Reyes had set down, but the moment the private seized it, the most catastrophic explosion yet sent everyone falling to the floor. The entire complex quake as if they were inside a drum being beaten by a giant, and a terrible, piercing screech tore through their ears even with hearing protection.

  While sprawled on the floor, Finch and Newman managed to look behind them and saw that the monster was violently twisting and writhing right at the entrance of the hallway Parts of its body were missing and smoking as if on fire, with stumps of its limbs charred and peeling. It was clear that the SEALs operating the drone had tried to ram it and had set off the C4 strapped to the quadruped. However, it seemed they triggered the explosives too early and weren't close enough for a killing blow.

  The creature desperately tried to escape the now burning barracks, flailing its way into the hallway. The claws of its still intact limbs tore out large chunks of the concrete wall with each swipe as it dragged itself forward, using the walls for leverage. Every movement sent debris flying in all directions as it skidded across the ground.

  Finch's eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. The creature was retreating, but it was retreating directly INTO the narrow corridor with them.

  "HOYL SHIT, RUN!" Finch screamed, scrambling to his feet. "IT'S IN THE HALLWAY!"