Mated To An Enemy

After ending his call with Axel and speaking with Fiona, Galen took a deep breath. His days and nights were beginning to blend together. His time away from Summer and his family weighed heavily on him.

That night, one of the few nights he could sleep, he dreamt of them. Of bringing Bell and Ren home to Summer, watching her give orders in the hospital as though she had always been a part of the team.

He imagined Ren growing up, attending class with Miss Stacy, and playing with the other children in the sunlit playgrounds.

He dreamt of picnics, camping trips, and teaching his son early sparring lessons. Galen could see the smile on Fiona's face as she showed Ren the flowers she loved so much.

He had even dared to dream of a future beyond his expectations, of a baby girl held in Bell's arms.

Galen always woke up smiling from those dreams.

"Beta Galen," one of his men called from the entrance to his tent. Stirring him from his dreams.

Galen took a deep breath and stood from his cot.

"What is it?" he replied, opening the flap.

The young man was no more than nineteen. He had curly red hair and bright freckles. He was tall and lanky. His name was Eric. He was one of the newest recruits.

"Sir," Eric said. "The scout reported seeing movement at the campsite of our lost men."

"How long ago?" Galen asked.

"The site is roughly two hours march," Eric replied. "The call came over the radio just a few minutes ago."

"All right, tell the men to pack up. All our checkpoints have been secured; we need to find those men. Once the camp is broken down, march for the site. Sampson and I will run ahead," Galen stated his orders and turned to get himself ready.

"Sir," Eric called out.

"What is it?" Galen asked.

"Sampson was one of the guards sent with the last civilians."

"He was?" Galen questioned. Thinking back, he remembered sending him. "All right…"

As he ran over the roster of men that remained, Galen realized that all he had left were new soldiers, barely trained before they were sent on this mission.

"All right," Galen said. "Rogers is in charge of taking down the camp. Once it's done, you will all march to the last known site of our soldiers. I will go ahead on my own."

Galen turned to get ready once again.

"Sir," Eric called.

Galen sighed.

"I know that Rogers is still here," Galen grumbled, "I can see him standing outside his tent."

Galen waved his arm toward a short man with dark brown hair and a thick beard.

"Yes, he is," Eric replied. "I was just going to say. You told us on the first day of this mission that we should never go out on our own, that it is reckless and, more often than not, leads to disaster."

Galen took a deep breath.

"That is true, but–" Galen began.

"I would like to volunteer to go with you, sir."

Galen looked again at the young man. He was so young.

"That is… very brave, and yes, you're right, I did say that. But you have not had much experience in the field. So going ahead of the team is dangerous."

"Sir, with all due respect. I will never get experience by staying behind."

Galen sighed.

***

An hour later, Galen and Eric ran through the marsh toward the last know sighting of the lost troops. They had found the scout. He verified the same thing he had said before. He couldn't be sure of what he saw, only that he was positive someone was in the camp.

He had seen someone moving through the trees and heard the movement of some of the gear scattered around the camp.

Galen, Eric, and the scout slowly made their way around the camp.

They noticed things they hadn't seen before. Claw marks, blood stains, drag marks. General signs of a battle. But no bodies, no clear winner. It was possible that the men had chased after something and gotten lost or killed elsewhere.

But what Galen found truly strange was that some of the gear he recognized as belonging to the first team sent out to find them.

Galen tried to sniff the air, to find any scent to trace, but the marshlands were filled with foul stenches that covered most any trail.

As they looked around, Eric suddenly stopped. He had a concentrated look on his face as he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Eric?" Galen called.

"Do you hear that?" Eric asked softly.

Galen tried to listen, but all he heard was the sounds of the marsh.

"What is it? What are you hearing?" Galen asked.

"There," Eric whispered. "Listen."

Galen closed his eyes and focused on the sounds he couldn't hear. The small sounds in the distance. And then he heard it. It was muffled, but it was there. He opened his eyes, looking around for where it came from.

As he scanned the area, he saw, in the distance, what looked like a cave covered by a heavy boulder.

"What's that?" he asked.

He and Eric made their way to the boulder while the scout continued to search the area. As they got closer, they saw a bloody handprint near the cave entrance and muffled shushing sounds.

"Is anybody there?" Galen called out. "I am Beta Galen of the Summer pack. Is there someone there?"

He heard soft whispers repeating his name and then a voice he recognized.

"Beta Galen?" he called out. "Is it really you?"

It was Marshall, the second in command of the unit Galen had first sent in search of the missing troops.

"Marshall?" Galen called to him. "Are you all right? How many people are with you? Are you trapped?"

"Five civilians, ten soldiers, six have minor injuries," Marshall replied.

"Come on, Eric," Galen said, "Let's get this thing out of the way and get these people looked at."

Eric moved beside Galen.

"Wait!" Marshall called out. "Don't move the boulder, not yet!"

"What is it?" Galen asked with concern.

"Did you kill it?" Marshall asked.

Galen furrowed his brow and looked at Eric, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Marshall, we didn't see any fae creatures out here or any sign of one in the area," Galen replied.

"It's not fae," Marshall said, fear in his voice. "It was those hybrid things. We got attacked the day we found the camp. But it wasn't like the reports said."

"What do you mean?" Galen asked.

"Team Leader Swain, he was the one that got infected. But the reports said he should have been like a zombie, slow-changing and then acting like he was waiting for orders. But that didn't happen."

"What happened, Marshall?" Galen asked, his heart pumping wildly.

"He changed, but not into some plant thing… he looked like him.. but wild. His eyes went crazy. His hands and legs grew… his fingers turned into these claw things. And his mind… it was like he was still him but twisted."

"Him but twisted?" Galen asked. "What does that mean?"

"He knew what we would do, who our weakest soldiers were, where we would defend ourselves," Marshall continued. "He planned how to take us down, one by one, until we holed up here."

"One by…one…" Galen whispered. Suddenly his head shot up, and he looked out at the scout standing alone in the remains of the camp.

A quick movement on the ground and the scout fell back. An extended hand with long, clawed fingers wrapped around his ankle and dragged him into the marsh as he screamed.