dognovel Chapter 930
Chapter 930
"Sizzle—smack."
A moth flew into the campfire, making a very faint popping sound. This was the only sound at that moment, besides the messenger's rapid breathing.
Just a moment ago, the one-eyed guitarist was strumming cheerful melodies with his slightly drunken fingers. The plump woman had just placed her somewhat comical red headdress on the head of a shy young soldier. Everyone was still laughing, some even with their cups still dangling in mid-air.
Castro's eye twitched. He gently placed the empty wine bottle on the stone at his feet, the clinking of glass sounding somewhat jarring at that moment.
"say clearly."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was like an invisible hand, extinguishing all the buzzing whispers around him. He reached up and straightened the collar of his slightly wrinkled military coat, and the romantic expression on his face, which had just been swearing oaths to the stars, vanished instantly as if dried by the night wind, replaced by a steely quality that screamed "commander."
"What do you mean...cannot be contacted?"
"It's the twin sentry posts number one and three..." The messenger was a young soldier, probably only sixteen or seventeen years old, his face covered in sweat from running, his lips a little pale. "We're supposed to make the call every fifteen minutes. Just now... it was time. The call went through, but no one answered... and..."
He swallowed hard.
"And I can't hear any background noise either. There's usually the sound of a waterfall over there... but now it seems... eerily quiet."
Che Guevara didn't say a word. He turned and took two steps in one to walk to the communications station next to him. Beside the old-fashioned field radio salvaged from an American jeep, there was a "Watchman" portable drone ground terminal made in China. The green light on the screen made his face look somewhat bluish.
"Switch over the infrared view from Zone 3." He tapped the keyboard roughly with his fingers. "Also, the view from the beach. Compare them."
The operator frantically fiddled with it for a few moments.
The screen was split in two.
To the left is the beach. There, a chaotic, disorganized mass of heat sources remains, where terrified American soldiers huddle together for warmth.
To the right is a jungle.
It was a nearly uniform dark green representing vegetation.
Apart from a few triangular markers indicating friendly outposts still flashing, there were no organized convoys responding, no large-scale personnel lurking in hotspots. Nothing.
"No eagles."
Che frowned, biting the cigar filter in his mouth so hard it almost crushed it. "Not even a single rabbit. Too 'clean'."
“If it weren’t for the Americans…” Castro drew his 1911 pistol, which was a bit old but gleaming, from his waist. “Load it.”
"Everyone, throw away your bottles! First combat team, follow me. Second team, activate the armor. All heavy machine guns, load immediately."
"Don't light torches. Use tactical flashlights. Let's go see what dares to mess with us at this time."
A few minutes later.
Three black giants emerged once again from under the canvas camouflage netting.
Unlike its swaggering "divine descent" during the day, this time, to avoid alerting the enemy, or perhaps out of instinctive caution, the "Po Jun" did not turn on its external searchlights, and even the idling sound of its thrusters was deliberately kept to a minimum.
Dozens of elite guerrillas, led by Castro (who was commanding from a captured Willys Jeep) and Che, who was piloting the lead mech, plunged into the somewhat unfamiliar and chilly forest like a silent dagger.
The further we went in, the thicker the fog seemed to get.
It wasn't the clear, thin mist of early morning, but a kind of miasma with the smell of earth and rotting leaves, sticking thickly to people's faces. When you shone the dim beam of a tactical flashlight through it, everything five meters ahead was a stark white.
"It's so quiet..."
Sitting in the armored cockpit, Che felt his discomfort reach its peak.
On his panoramic display screen, the thermal imaging radar that should have allowed him to see through the fog of night now looked like a broken black-and-white television.
Some fleeting red spots flickered between the tree trunks, like electrical noise in a circuit. Whenever he tried to lock onto the weapon or zoom in for a closer look, the red spot would vanish with a "whoosh," without any physical transition. This made him, who was used to the machine's incredibly precise feedback, feel a strange sense of irritation.
"Wait. We're here."
A somewhat hoarse voice came through the communication channel.
The mech raised its massive metal left hand, making a gesture to stop advancing.
This is the location of the first hidden sentry post. It's a cleverly designed natural cave, directly facing the only path leading up the mountain. Unless you can fly, you'll have to pass right under its nose.
but now.
The well-camouflaged heavy machine gun lay askew to one side. Its barrel looked as if it had been twisted into a pretzel by some giant hydraulic clamp.
"Is anyone there? Dario? Are you there?"
The captain behind him, holding a Thompson submachine gun, tentatively took half a step forward, his flashlight trembling slightly as he shone it into the depths of the cave.
The beam of light swept across the stone that was usually used as a table.
There was still a half-smoked hand-rolled cigarette on it, with intact ash. This proves that the owner of the cigarette left instantly without any struggle or warning.
Then, the beam of light rose upwards and shone on the cave ceiling.
"what!"
A short, sharp gasp, almost inhuman in sound.
It wasn't because I saw a corpse.
It's because there's everything there, except for something "complete".
On the gray stone ceiling of the cave, an extremely terrifying pressure had "pasted" a bloodstained military uniform onto it. Most of the buttons had popped off, but the belt was strangely embedded in a crack in the stone.
It was like a giant fly swatter that slapped this not-so-strong "fly" flat onto the rock, skin and all.
Blood was dripping down, forming a small puddle.
But what's even more terrifying is that the clothes were empty.
No head. No limbs. Not even any internal organs are visible. Those easily plucked, nutritious parts have vanished completely, like the crab meat scooped out of an open crab shell.
There was only some sticky green liquid mixed with dark red blood, which gleamed with a nauseating oily sheen under the flashlight beam.
"Step back! Everyone move to the center!"
He yanked the lever, instantly revving the engine to its maximum idle speed. The roar of mechanical power became their only source of courage.
"This...this is not something a human would do..."
An old guerrilla fighter who had witnessed bloodshed and even killed people with his own hands could not even hold his rifle steady at this moment, and his calves were obviously shaking.
"Is it a wild beast? A jaguar?"
"A jaguar can bend a Maxim machine gun? That's even more powerful than tank armor..."
"Wow."
To the left, at approximately eleven o'clock, the treetops suddenly shook violently. Something extremely heavy, like a giant boulder falling from the sky, swung from one twenty-meter-tall tree to another.
But it landed without making a sound. There was only the rustling of leaves.
"over there!"
A dozen or so powerful flashlight beams shot out instantly. Several thick beams of light resembled laser swords wildly swinging in the darkness.
The light captured half of his body.
That was a moment—
A dark red silhouette against the light, somewhat resembling a human, but with a clearly backward-curved spine. It appears to be hanging upside down from a tree trunk.
The moment the light shines on it.
The creature turned its huge, bald head—which looked as if it had been skinned—completely, 180 degrees.
Those eyes, reflecting a strong, murky yellow light under the illumination, had no pupils and were fixed on the young man in the group who was holding the brightest flashlight.
Then, its gaping maw, splitting open to its ears, suddenly opened wide.
That wasn't a roar.
That is……
"Help... help..."
The voice, emanating from the monster's mouth, was pure Spanish. Though somewhat hoarse and even with a slightly uneven pitch, it was unmistakably... the voice of Dario, the sentinel who had just gone missing!
It was like a tape recorder with a cassette tape stuck, repeatedly playing that dying plea from a voice that should never have uttered a human voice.
"It...is it talking?"
The young flashlight bearer froze, this unexpected situation causing him to hesitate for a fatal second.
next moment.
The shadowy figure vanished. Or rather, it transformed into a dark red lightning bolt.
Out of the corner of everyone's eye, they only saw a thick, long, barbed black shadow flash by—it might be the monster's tongue, or it might be some kind of whip-like tentacle.
"what!!"
The screams abruptly stopped mid-air.
The person who was just in that spot in the line is gone.
Only that flashlight remained, spinning and tumbling in the air, its beam swaying wildly, before crashing to the ground with a "thud."
The beam of light finally came to a standstill, pointing diagonally into the air.
In the air where the beam of light pierced through.
A shower of blood, warm from body heat, poured down, pattering onto the helmets of every soldier standing there below, their faces splattered with the warm blood.
And that "crunch, crunch" sound, like the chewing of bones.
In the shadows deep within that canopy.
It rang out unrestrainedly and rhythmically.