The transcript, p.18
The Transcript, page 18
And, indeed, there was reason to be excited. How can this be? Under the torchlight sat—waited—more weapons than a warrior could dream. Of all things, nearest Rayburn were M4 Carbines; no different than the ones he and his men carried. Beyond them, against the wall, stood dozens of spears. Boxes of ammunition were already open—waiting—along with night vision goggles and grenades spread out among other instruments of death. “Where did you find all this?” He gasped, turning to the major.
The major simply shrugged, picking up an M4. He examined the weapon. “Dunno, mate. Magic,” he almost hissed it, his eyes alight. “Magic is all I can say.” He shoul-dered the weapon, pointing it towards a wall. “Every new warrior brings with them something of use. Muskets, swords, bullets…they just appear here.”
He handed the rifle to Rayburn. The familiar weight was comforting. The Major walked towards a large pot, over-flowing with the familiar brass shapes of 5.56m NATO cartridges. “This place provides everything for us. Eternal life, food, water…eternal weapons. When I arrived here, I had three bullets, a bloody rifle, and pistol to my name. The next morning there were enough to arm a battalion.”
Rayburn found himself repeated the major’s earlier words. “Building an army.”
Masterson picked up a pair of PVS-21 night vision goggles and a handheld radio, scrutinizing them. “There’s over three hundred of us now.”
“That Neanderthal, too,” Rayburn said.
The major took a step forward. Glowing under a torch’s burning flame he said, “I have been here in this fort, a rat hiding or dying over and over to hide like a rat once more. But now we may have enough, enough so we can push them back into their bloody caves, back to Lucifer or Baal or whatever they call their master.” He looked deep into Ray-burn’s eyes with a fanatical, feral look. “We. Can. Win.”
Part IV
“Alright, we move out in ten!” Ssgt Mathes shouted to men packed into the courtyard. Twilight was fading and the icy howls began to fill the air. Fangs, teeth, and hate challenged the men to dare and venture into the dark.
Rayburn finished rolling up his sleeves as he looked around. His platoon hurriedly put the finishing touches on their gear as they conducted their final checks and moved into formation. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Mustafa and his entire former Taliban crew were decked out in American gear and holding M4s and RPGs. He nodded to Rayburn, and in the poor light Rayburn made out a smile.
All around him, Macedonians, Mongols, Pashtuns, Russ-ians, and others blended in with the Americans. A Mongol warrior, draped in belts of 7.62 over his fur coat, held a M240 machine gun. A Macedonian hefted a javelin rocket launcher onto his back as the Russians tried to convince their Nean-derthal companion to pick up a rifle. Their caveman friend, though, preferred a Macedonian spear.
Months of preparation had gone into this night. Count-less hours of basic classes on weapons, tactics, English, and strategy. A menagerie of cultures and peoples were now one. This was the first night the Legion of the Dammed would take the fight to the Legions of Hell.
Rayburn walked up to the front as the remaining men manned the parapets with Sarbaz. They would cover the assault force from any assailants as they moved to their objective. The major met him at the front, he had traded his redcoat for a modern uniform and gear. The ancient Brit looked indistinguishable from Rayburn. “Lieutenant, are we ready to move? The lights faded and our enemy grows weary of our absence.”
Rayburn keyed the radio on his kit, “Slayer7, we ready to move?”
A Russian voice prickled over the radio, “Roger, Slayer6, ready to go oscar mike. Castle6 is saying the coast is clear. They don't know what’s coming for them.”
Rayburn turned to the major who smiled coldly with glee, “On you then, Lieutenant.” The Major turned and gave the hand signal. The large wooden doors lurched open as the Legion rushed out. They formed up on a firing line, scanning their sectors as they had trained and drilled.
The light of the sky was all about to vanish. The small scouting parties that had been sent out in the past months had reported back the demon’s positions. The men in the fort studied their foe with a zealous passion; their tactics, their weapons, how to better kill them. They had learned their foe could take a lot of damage, but the higher caliber weapons Rayburn’s men and the Russians brought dis-patched the demons with ease. But the demons were well organized. They had strongholds and defenses encircling the valley, but the caves to the north seemed to be where they spawned from. No doubt the Legion would have to venture into those tunnels soon. But for now, they had to cleanse the valley of as many demons as they could. They had their targets; they would cripple their enemy first before going in for biggest of kills.
Rayburn often thought about the world outside. No one had entered the valley after his platoon, and he always wondered why no one came looking for them. Maybe that guy “Barton” he’d met once knew what had happened. Maybe the power back home knew about what was happening here. Or maybe they had written them off. He wondered what the outside world had decided about his fate. And that he didn't even know what his fate would be. Would beating the demons here really release him? Would he be allowed to go home?
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. It was time to focus. “All units on this net, Slayers are on the move.” Rayburn dropped his NVGs and took the safety off his rifle. Dozens of IR lasers streamed into the night. Tonight was the beginning of the offensive.
It was time to go hunting.
Previously Published Works by Dead Reckoning Collective:
Fact & Memory by: Tyler Carroll & Keith Dow
In Love… &War: The Poet Warrior Anthology Vol. 1
War… &After: The Poet Warrior Anthology Vol. 2
war{n}pieces by: Leo Jenkins
Lucky Joe by: Brian Kimber, Leo Jenkins, and David Rose
Sober Man’s Thoughts by: William Bolyard
Karmic Purgatory by: Keith Dow
War is a Racket by: Smedley Butler
The First Marauder by: Luke Ryan
Where They Meet by: Cokie
Poppies by: Amy Sexauer
Rock Eater by: Mason Rodrigue
Revision of a Man by: Matt Smythe
On Assimilation by: Leo Jenkins
Sangin, Then and Now by Neville Johnson
A Word Like God by Leo Jenkins
Phantoms by Ben Fortier
Killers in Their Youth by Nicholas Efstathiou
Double Knot by Mac Caltrider
Demons in the Taillights by William Bolyard
Odysseus and the Oar by Adam Magers
Screaming Eagles Wings by David Rose

Dead Reckoning Collective is a veteran owned and oper-ated publishing company. Our mission encourages literacy as a component of a positive lifestyle. Although DRC only publishes the written work of military veterans, the intention of closing the di-vide between civilians and veterans is held in the highest regard. By sharing these stories it is our hope that we can help to clarify how veterans should be viewed by the public and how veterans should view themselves.
Visit us at:
deadreckoningco.com

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If you enjoyed this fictional collection of stories and the premise of military paranormal encounters, then be sure to read Nick Orton’s non-fictional works:
Tales From The Grid Square Stories Of Paranormal Military Experiences Volume 1
Tales From The Grid Square Volume 2: Stories Of Military Paranormal Experiences
Available on amazon.com
And be on the lookout for future collections
Follow Nick Orton
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Nick Orton, The Transcript
