Frost Moon

Frost Moon Part 5

The wind howled around the armored figures trudging through the snow –Herlovsen taking point, the rest like a row of ducklings after him. He'd made sure that his soldiers were roped together. Avalanches, reckless driving and carelessness with grenades? All of that could possibly be explained away. Losing one of the kids on the way home, however, couldn't. To make matters worse, the storm had picked up again. At least he'd had the good sense to bring along a backup battery. Not that it helped his poor, cold suit of Italian armor, but at least he could plug a nav computer in it and keep on course. Private Berg had volunteered the bright idea that they should just leave their armors behind, since they were next to useless in the cold. It was actually slightly tempting – but, considering what backwater they were stationed in, they would never get replacement armor. Besides, trekking back to base in nothing but their long johns didn't seem all that fun. At least the fancy hard suits kept most of the wind out. As long as they kept moving, they should be okay. Some frostbite would have to be expected, but cloning a replacement finger or a nose was a piece of cake.

Herlovsen felt a tug on the rope. He turned back towards Berg, who had stopped. Herlovsen cursed and waded through the snow towards Berg, getting ready to yell at him to get moving. 'What is the problem?' the sergeant barked.

'No idea, Sir!' Berg pointed behind him 'I stopped because Hoseth stopped.' Herlovsen cursed again, untied himself, and followed the chain back to its weakest link: Nielsen, who had collapsed in the snow. Nielsen was the youngest of the lot, barely old enough to have hair on his balls, a quiet and shy boy. At the moment he was lying in the snow, holding his head and moaning.

'What's your damned problem, Private Nielsen? Get back on your feet!' Herlovsen didn't have time for this. The angry impatience radiating from him could melt snow.

Nielsen writhed, whining desperately. 'The howls! Can't you hear them?'

'What the fuck are you talking about?' Something snapped inside Herlovsen. He took adeep breath, drew his sidearm and pointed the pistol at Nielsen. 'You get on your feet right now, private,' he said through clenched teeth. 'Every fucking one of us is going to freeze to death unless we keep moving. If you don't get up... Right. Fucking. Now. I'm going to blow your worthless brains all over the...'

'Um, Sir, hold on a bit, Sir!' Berg was trying to get Herlovsen's attention. A brave, well-intentioned, but not necessarily very bright move –seeing he now had Herlovsen's pistol aiming at him instead. 'I'm hearing something too, Sir! Some kind of weird howling – and it's coming closer!'

Berg's words probably saved Nielsen's life. Herlovsen took another deep breath, forcing his anger to cool, and looked around. Now that he paid attention, it seemed to Herlovsen that all his boys were hearing something. Sometimes, being Deaf was a bit of a hindrance. All of a sudden his motion detector went off. 6 large shapes were approaching them in the storm.

'Defensive routine Bravo!' Herlovsen screamed.

'Routine Bravo, my ass,' Berg thought. Bravo was something you used when you were defending a fixed position, with air and artillery support. Not while lost in the woods, with no visibility or backup! The howling was so loud he could hardly hear himself think. Great timing for their commanding officer to lose his marbles! Through the whipping blizzard, they could barely make out large shapes approaching. Berg heard some whimpering from his side – probably Jespersen – and the rifle shook in his hands as he opened fire.