50,000 Word Challenge: Part 4

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear! by Tim Norris

This is the fourth piece of my 50,000 words in 30 days challenge. It’s a completely unedited first draft written with the primary goal of getting out as many words as possible in a short time, so don’t expect too much from it. More parts will come each week as the challenge progresses. You can read the previous chapter here.

Chapter Four: Rough Landing

The boat ride back to England was short and awkward. Eli took advantage of the trip to study the people in whose hands he was being forced to place his own life. Sgt. Lewis kept to himself for most of the trip, refraining from making all but a few sarcastic remarks. Cpt. O’Donnell’s ebullient nature had slowly surfaced over the span of the afternoon in propitious smiles and failed attempts at light-hearted jokes.

It was strange to see someone appear to be in such good spirits so close to walking into what Eli regarded as suicide. He genuinely seemed at ease with the coming danger. At times the glint in his eye hinted at something else, something that worried Eli a bit – an eagerness for battle. His jokes having fallen flat, he humored Eli’s half-hearted attempts at small talk for a while but even he succumbed to the pall that lay over the group in their anticipation of the mission.

Maj. Hawkins and Agent Walker were like contrasting twin statues. Neither spoke a word the entire trip, though their mirrored stillness couldn’t have contrasted more in its mood. There was a feeling of steel about Maj. Hawkins. He exuded a sense of calm, dutiful command. It stirred Eli a little, if for no other reason that he recognized it was so different from his own nature. The tranquil seas of his eyes were entombed in features of solid stone. Words weren’t necessary. Eli only had to look to know that this was a man who would walk through the gates of Hell without hesitation if his honor demanded it of him. He would probably be wearing that same passive face the whole time he did it.

If Maj. Hawkins was tranquil seas and a steady rock to anchor on, then Agent Walker was an active volcano beset by a violent tempest. She sat as still as he did, but where there was an unfeeling calm gracing his countenance hers was cast in a cold mask of hatred. There was nothing in particular she did to give it away, but Eli could feel it. When her eyes chanced to meet his the hairs on his neck stood on end. He didn’t know why, or what it was directed at, but there was rage in her.

No matter how hard he fought to avoid it, Eli’s eyes always seemed to find their way back to her. Deep down, she genuinely frightened him. Of all the members of the team he was certain that if she was the one to find out he planned on deserting, she would kill him on the spot and be done with it. As much as he feared her, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. He felt like a child left unsupervised with a box of fireworks. She scared him, and he found that enticing. That scared him even more. Pushing those feelings away, he retreated into his own thoughts spending the rest of the boat ride plotting his escape.

Their arrival on British shores was followed by a truck ride to the air base they would be leaving from the following night. Brief tours were given and they were shown to their bunks. Maj. Hawkins told them they would be preparing their gear the following morning, then would be getting a few hours of sack time before the mission proceeded. They were free for that night to do as they pleased. Eli ate dinner alone after he had cleaned up a little in his room. He hadn’t showered or shaved since before the beach landing and he stared into the mirror, a little shocked at the changes the last few days had wrought in him.

His hair was a disheveled tangle of sorrel and ochre. A wild forest of matching stubble had sprouted over his jaw and clung to his sharp cheekbones. The burgeoning beard gave his square face a gaunt, shadowed look that accentuated the dark bags under his eyes. Stressful days and sleepless nights had quickly left their mark on him and left him looking haunted and feral. Swift strokes of his razor smoothed away the auburn shadow that clung to his jaw.

For all the damage the danger had done to his visage, his body was largely unaffected. His broad shoulders still flared out solidly, tapering to a tuck at his waist. His form was solid but not excessive. Sharp angles defined his compact muscles, in the foggy mirror his shirtless form looked as if it were carved from wood.

The bandage on his head proved to be unnecessary. The cut had bled a lot but it was tiny, an incision no bigger than a paper clip, and it was in no danger of reopening. The graze on his arm however he cleaned carefully before applying a fresh bandage. It was no more than a deep scratch itself, but he knew how bad it could get if an infection set in.

Feeling somewhat refreshed for the first time since he stepped on a boat bound for Normandy, Eli decided he would take what little free time he had to wander the base and collect his thoughts. There was no telling what he would be facing once they were dropped into Germany. Every scenario he could come up with played before his eyes as he walked aimlessly around the camp. He had no idea when the chance would present itself for him to escape, he had to be ready to take advantage of it at all times.

For a second, he considered trying to escape then. At least then he would be in an English speaking country. General Gerow’s thinly veiled threat whispered back through his ears and he discarded the thought. If he disappeared before the morning they would know he was somewhere in the U.K. – there would be men after him before noon. Eli didn’t know Gen. Gerow very well, but he could tell he wasn’t a man to let loose ends lie untied.

While his thoughts danced around the various opportunities he might have to make his escape, the faint sound of gunfire in the distance tickled his ears. Without his consent Eli’s feet pulled him to the source of the noise. A makeshift firing range had been constructed in the far corner of the airfield. A single person stood at the hay bales marking the firing line, pistol cracking rhythmically. Even in the dim gloaming Eli recognized the lithe form and vulpine hair.

The slide of her handgun locked back and she slid the empty clip free. Eli took the opportunity to step up next to her.

“Agent Walker… right?” he asked. “I’m Eli. Eli Watts.”

She looked over at him as a fresh clip clicked into place. After setting the weapon carefully on the hay bale, she pulled the thick ear protectors off her head. “What?”

Eli reintroduced himself quickly. She stared at him in silence. Though only a few seconds passed Eli felt as though her eyes bored into him for an eternity and he shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t care who you are private,” she said, breaking the silence. “We have a job to do tomorrow. An important job. I don’t know why we’re being forced to babysit you in the middle of it but we are. I don’t expect you to help us tomorrow, I expect you to stay out of our way until we accomplish our mission. Now, do you have anything to tell me about the operation?”

“N-No. Nothing. I just thought…” Eli stammered, shocked by icy bluntness.

“Excellent,” she said flatly. “Then if you’ll excuse me…” She pulled the mufflers over her ears and snapped the weapon up from the bale. Eli jammed his fingers into his ears as she resumed her methodical firing. Even if it meant living in the dirt in the German countryside foraging for food to survive, Eli would be happy to get away from that woman. He stomped away in a huff, puzzled slightly by how annoyed he was at being cast off so rudely. Once he had gotten far enough away to pull his fingers from his ears he took one last glance back at the range.

The golden disk of the sun burned on the horizon silhouetting the target. In that black mass Eli could detect a small pinprick of light bursting through the void. It was a small hole, the only one in the target, right over the man’s heart.

Eli passed the night fitfully. He tossed and tumbled beneath his sheets, pursued by monsters he could never escape. Finally, dawn blossomed on the horizon, its long fingers brushing away the nightmares and dragging Eli from his restless sleep.

The sheets were cast thoughtlessly on the floor as he sat up in his bed. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, head buried in his palms, before the knock on his door echoed through the room.

“Breakfast is in fifteen minutes,” a man’s voice called from the hall. “Maj. Hawkins wants you in the east barrack in one hour.”

Eli’s feet slid heavily to the floor and he trudged into the bathroom, getting ready as quickly as his foggy mind would allow. It took him thirty minutes to get to the cafeteria. He walked through the doors and scanned the rows of tables.

In the center of the room Sgt. Lewis sat with Cpt. O’Donnell. The captain’s tray was empty, spotted by only the last few vestiges of his meal. Sgt. Lewis on the other hand was still digging into an impressive mound of food. He glanced up between mouthfuls and caught eyes with Eli, nodding slightly in acknowledgment. In the far corner Eli recognized the lonely form of Agent Walker sitting alone in the corner, her back to the door Eli had entered through. His thoughts flitted back to the exchange at the firing range.

Eli decided he would join Sgt. Lewis.

A pile of food grew on Eli’s tray, respectable but lacking the grandeur of Sgt. Lewis’s creation, and once satisfied he set it down next to Sgt. Lewis across from Cpt. O’Donnell. The two men greeted him as he sat.

“Holden here has been filling me in on the fun you had at Omaha,” Cpt. O’Donnell said, smiling. “I wish I could’ve been up there with you guys. I have to say the satchel charge thing was pretty slick.”

“It was nothing, really,” Eli replied looking down at his meal. “I just kind of reacted. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, you’ve earned your place here. What you did may have been what won us that beach in the end.”

Eli felt a touch of color rising to his cheeks and focused harder on his food. Looking to change the subject, he asked Cpt. O’Donnell if he had been fighting there on the beach that morning. Cpt. O’Donnell leaned back in his chair and grinned and he called up memories of the battle. Eli was relieved to have the conversation shift away from himself and listened as Cpt. O’Donnell began recounting his struggle on the sands.

He had been one of the later waves to make a landing, though not by choice he assured. By the time he had made it, the two Tyrannosaurs had been released onto the invasion force and were cutting a swath of destruction through the Allied ranks. Eli shuddered as he told how his gunner crew had been snapped up by one of the monsters. He barely escaped the jaws himself, but had lost his machine gun in the process. Scrambling over the beach he came across a bazooka in the sand, its previous owner long since having passed beyond the need for it. His arms raised to his shoulders as he pantomimed lining one of the beasts up in his sights.

“Psssshhhhhhh, boom!” Eli instinctively shielded his tray from the spittle sprayed by Cpt. O’Donnell’s sound effects. Having only one rocket, Cpt. O’Donnell explained he had abandoned the spent weapon and reclaimed his lost .30 caliber from where his crew had been devoured. Hefting it up himself, he opened up into the other monster as it charged him from across the beach until finally it fell at his feet.

The story was incredible. Eli had a hard time believing anyone could really operate a machine gun by themselves, let alone do it standing, but he figured if there were anyone who could do it the bear of a man regaling him with his adventures would be the one. There was a glint in Cpt. O’Donnell’s eye as he told of his exploits and the broad grin of accomplishment never faded from his face. Eli wanted to ask him more about what had happened, but before he got the chance Sgt. Lewis interceded tapping his watch in front of them. It was time to meet at the bunker.

The walk over was brief, but miserable. The bright morning sun had withdrawn behind a curtain of clouds releasing the first drops of a warm, sticky rain on to the camp. They trudged solemnly up to the concrete barrack and went inside. Maj. Hawkins was waiting for them.

“Good morning gentlemen,” he greeted them without smiling, “I trust you had a good breakfast.”

Only Cpt. O’Donnell nodded.

“This is not standard procedure,” he continued, “but as you know this is no standard operation. You are all experts in your fields and I trust you will be able to outfit yourself properly. You will proceed to the next room where you will be free to appropriate any of the provisions available.”

“Um… shouldn’t we wait for Agent Walker?” Eli chimed in. The instant he said it he wished he hadn’t.

“Agent Walker is being supplied by the agency she works for,” Maj. Hawkins replied in a tone that left no further room for questions. “You may proceed to the armory.”

They stepped through the second set of doors behind Maj. Hawkins and Eli’s jaw dropped. They stood in a room about the size of a high school gym, except instead of bleachers and awkward teenagers the room was lined with rows of tables and crates holding every kind of weapon the U.S. Military had to offer. In one corner were miscellaneous camping supplies, packs and other items Eli didn’t know the function of. Another corner held tables stocked with medical supplies, Sgt. Lewis immediately headed for it. In a third corner were crates of rations and stores of canteens with the last being piled with what looked like every kind of explosive device imaginable.

Cpt. O’Donnell whistled appreciatively and started towards the table of explosives, pausing only for a second to eye a gleaming .50 caliber machine gun he passed on his way. Eli didn’t know where to start. Maj. Hawkins noticed his apprehension and stepped up next to him.

“Would you like some help packing?” he asked.

The firm tone of authority hadn’t left his voice, but there was something else there along with it. A touch of kindness.

“Yes, sir,” Eli said. “I’ve never done this before. I’m not really sure what I need.”

Maj. Hawkins cracked a thin smile. “We’ll get you all set up.”

They began on the far left corner of the room, in the miscellaneous supplies. Maj. Hawkins chose a pack for Eli that wouldn’t get in the way of his parachute during the drop and began plucking items off the table to fit into it. He thought of things that Eli never would have remembered to include, enough supplies to keep him alive for weeks in the wilderness. He made a mental note that when he made his escape, he needed to make sure to take his bag.

Finally, once all the other essentials were packed, Maj. Hawkins led Eli over to the center of the room where the majority of the weapons were. They gleamed on the tables, wood and metal blended into efficient instruments of death. For a second, Eli wondered what had ever become of his rifle from the landing.

“So, what kind of weapon do you prefer?” Maj. Hawkins asked.

Eli shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure, sir. I was trained with a rifle. The M1 Garand.”

Maj. Hawkins chuckled. The sound nearly made Eli jump out of his skin it was so unexpected.

“Holden told me about your skill with the rifle, I prefer my men to be able to hit their targets, private. No, how about this instead.”

He picked a boxy weapon off the table by it’s stock and presented it to Eli. He recognized it at a glance, he thought only officers carried them.

“A Thompson?” He asked.

“It’s the closest thing we’ve got to that MP40 you used in the trenches, and a lot more reliable.”

Eli took the weapon from him reverently. He hefted the weight a little in his hands. For its size it felt about as heavy as his rifle had. Though he had only trained with the rifles the weight of it felt better to him somehow – more natural.

“I like it, sir.”

“Excellent choice, private. I don’t intend there to be much fighting while we’re in there. I want to get in, do what we have to and slip away before they know what’s happening. Any action we do see is likely going to be up close in personal.”

Eli understood. Accuracy didn’t matter as much when you were up close. Having more ammunition would be far more important.

“Since you’ve never used one of those before, I’d like to give you some pointers.” He gathered a small stack of clips from the nearby crates. “Follow me private.”

They walked out the doors on the other side of the bunker, past Sgt. Lewis who had moved on to eye the barrel of a long Springfield rifle, and out into the drizzling rain. Maj. Hawkins then led Eli over to the practice field where Agent Walker had been shooting the previous night. He instructed Eli in the workings of the weapon first, how to care for the mechanisms, load cleanly and clear jams. Then they moved on to target practice.

At the beginning, Eli was terrible. Slowly though, through Maj. Hawkins’s carefully tutoring, he began to show improvement. He was definitely no Sgt. Lewis, but for the first time he was actually feeling a little confident about his marksmanship. Maj. Hawkins’s lessons were excellent. He seemed to intuitively know every little correction Eli needed to make to his form. After about three hours of training, and several trips back to the arsenal for more ammunition, Eli was able to reliably place every single bullet in the target from any firing position.

Maj. Hawkins declared that they didn’t have the time for him to improve any further, and it would have to be good enough. They walked back toward the center of the base. Maj. Hawkins had scheduled a meeting to go over the details of the operation again before their final meal, and they had to hurry in order to not be late.

“You’re a fast learner, private,” Maj. Hawkins said over his shoulder as they slogged through the mud. “You’ve got a lot of potential.”

Eli was glad for the gloom as it obscured the bit of color rose in his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but something about the complement struck a chord with him.

The briefing went quickly. With the exclusion of Eli the team had memorized the details completely. After the drop they would make their way southeast until they reached the laboratory outside of Hamburg. They would take the facilities, capture or kill Dr. Kessler and destroy the building and all the research with it. A short trip back to the evac point and they would be on their way home. Mission accomplished.

They broke for a late lunch after the briefing. Eli, Sgt. Lewis and Cpt. O’Donnell found seats together. Eli offered a place to Agent Walker as she walked by but she declined politely and found a seat by herself to dine alone. Looking around Eli realized that he hadn’t seen Maj. Hawkins come in with them.

“Maj. Hawkins doesn’t eat,” Sgt. Lewis explained.

“Sometimes, I think he’s secretly a robot,” Cpt. O’Donnell added.

Over their food they discussed the equipment they had chosen. Most of the conversation flew well above Eli’s head, though they became interested when he told them about his choice and the crash course in marksmanship. Time slipped by quickly as they ate and talked, and soon it was time for them to get some shut-eye. The drop would take place under the cover of night. There was still no guarantee they would be able to slip in undetected, but that was when they stood their best chance. It was important to get some rest while they could.

Eli began peeling his soggy uniform off before his door had even had time to click shut. He shuffled over to his bed and flopped into it heavily. The shooting practice had been more tiring than he would’ve expected and his arms ached from attempting to control the bucking firearm. Despite the fatigue that clung to his muscles, his mind was alive and burning. The time was almost there. By the next morning he would be in Germany and he could make his bid for freedom.

He tried to ignore the thought that he would have to fly over Germany’s network of anti-aircraft guns and then dive out of a plane to get there.

Time crawled as he tossed and turned in his bed, straining to force his subconscious to submit to sleep. Eventually, the struggle itself proved mentally tiring enough to overcome his anxiety and he quietly slipped into a silent, dreamless slumber.

A loud knock wrenched Eli back to the waking world. The voice of the man from that morning called through the door, informing him that he needed to prepare his gear and report to the airfield in one hour. He numbly slid from the bed and cleaned himself up, then headed off to the bunker to retrieve his pack.

His mostly assembled pack was where he had left it. He added in the last handful of items, as well as things that would be carried on his uniform, ammunition, grenades, a knife and his weapon. Almost as a second thought, he stopped and strapped on a sidearm. He had never practiced with a pistol before, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to have one. Taking one last glance around the room, he decided that was all he could carry and headed out to the airfield.

The light drizzle had turned into a heavy rain. Thick thunderclouds blacked out the night sky into a solemn, starless sheet of Stygian darkness. Lit by harsh lights the rest of his group stood by an enormous four engine plane, its engines already rumbling in anticipation for a flight through the stormy skies. Eli jogged over to them, though he was in no hurry to board.

Maj. Hawkins looked up at him as he approached. “Glad you could make it private. It’s time to go.”

With that, they climbed aboard. Eli had a feeling, as he climbed up into the enormous aircraft that it was one of the last things he would ever do.

The group strapped themselves into the seats lining the wall of the rear of the aircraft. Over the low rumble of the idling engines sheets of rain could be heard pounding on the roof of the plane. Eli felt a little like he was sitting inside a giant tin can. It happened that Maj. Hawkins, Cpt. O’Donnell and Sgt. Lewis were strapped in across from Eli, with Agent Walker seated by his side.

He considered trying to start a conversation with her, but he realized that this might not be the best time, particularly given his track record in that department. With a shout back from the pilot the engines roared on the sides of the massive plane and they lurched forward down the runway. Eli’s heart began pounding even harder. This was it. He was really on his way into Germany. He was on his way to Germany to destroy a secret laboratory that was somehow producing dinosaurs. He decided it was best not to try to wrap his mind around it.

The plane shuddered as the bounced and bumped through a thick patch of turbulence. The pilot called back their ETA, but Eli couldn’t tell if anyone other than the major had heard it. He leaned forward as much as he could in his straps and, bellowing to be heard over the engines, began going over the details of their mission one final time.

The flight dragged on for what felt like forever. Outside the thin wall of metal that held them aloft, Eli could hear the violence of the storm and the roar of the winds rushing past. They were forced to fly low to avoid radar detection, but it put them right in the middle of the thunderstorm. Faintly, Eli began to hear a new sound through the fragile walls.

It was faint, filtered through the anger of the storm. Somewhere between a ‘pop’ and a ‘boom’. He knew it wasn’t thunder, but he couldn’t quite place it. Then it dawned on him with a shudder. It was anti-aircraft fire.

A flashing red light flicked on in the back and Eli faintly heard a shout from the direction of the cabin. They were nearing the drop zone. Almost as one, everyone unbuckled themselves and was on their feet. Everyone except Eli, who had to struggle to figure out how to release himself from his harness. Once free he joined his team and one of the members of the flight crew outfitted him with a parachute.

He had been given several crash courses in parachuting during the briefings, but this would be his first actual drop. He reflected on how awful of a term that was, crash course. Frantically, he raced through everything he had been taught. Most people don’t have their first jump at low altitude in the middle of a thunderstorm. Of course most people don’t have flak guns to worry about either.

At the touch of a button the rear cargo hatch of the plane slowly began to lower, providing a window to the churning, inky skies. Eli realized, staring into the black maw in front of him, that he couldn’t do it. There was no way he could jump. He looked over to Maj. Hawkins, scrambling for an excuse for why he had to stay on the plane. Maj. Hawkins looked back at him and smiled a little as if he understood that it was just impossible for Eli to jump.

The man from the flight crew yelled one last time to indicate they had reached the drop zone and before Eli could react, Maj. Hawkins grabbed him by the collar. With a strength he couldn’t have imagined was in him, he flung Eli from the back of the plane into the rolling nothingness. Eli had no time to react. He was tumbling through the air. Ground filled his view, then black clouds, then ground then clouds. A detached part of him recognized the sound of his own hoarse screaming through the roll of the storm.

The same firm grip that had cast him into the void dug into his shoulder, stopping his spin. He frantically looked over to find Maj. Hawkins descending next to him. A slight smile cracked over the one corner of his mouth, and he released Eli’s shoulder snaking his hand to his chest. Eli saw the major’s hand snap back from his chest and the breath rushed out of him as a gigantic force ripped him back upward by his shoulders. No, not upward. He was still falling, but slower now, more controlled. He looked up and saw that his parachute was open above him, shielding him slightly from the pounding rain.

Maj. Hawkins and the rest of the team had deployed their chutes as well and he could see them gliding down around him toward the ground. He realized that the major must have pulled Eli’s cord before pulling his own. He didn’t know whether he owed him his life for pulling his cord, or should punch him in the face for throwing him out of the back of a moving plane. He decided he would ponder that later. For right now he had bigger concerns, the onrushing ground for instance.

The dark mass of Earth rose swiftly up to meet him. Below Eli was a rapidly approaching ring of tall pine trees, jutting up from the ground like pikes. Within the ring he could just make out the wide clearing that had been selected as their drop zone through the dark sheets of rain. Panic jolted Eli as he realized the strong winds were pushing him away into the verdant spear points of the forest. He fumbled for the cable on the right side of his chute and tugged hard, twirling himself back over the safety of the clearing.
Despite the storm and winds, the other members of his team had guided their parachutes expertly and were set to land in a tight group in the center of the clearing.

Eli was not so skilled. He had avoided impalement, but the section of clearing that was racing to meet his feet was on the far left edge away from the rest of the group. He looked down at the dark grass below. His parachute slowed him, but not by a lot. This was not going to be a soft landing. He thrust his legs out at the very last second like he had been taught, buckling them as soon as they made contact with the muddy grass. He rolled to absorb as much of the force as he could, but it still jarred his bones and clattered his jaw together.

For a second, Eli just laid there. The parachute flapped behind him, tugging him for a moment toward the trees then relenting as it was caught and released by the capricious winds. The cables of the chute had bound Eli when he rolled, and their embrace tightened and relaxed with each pull. The rain that fell on him had a chill to it now, though the mud that caked him had a comforting warmth to it. He considered just staying there. Rolling over slightly he looked up at the trees that had nearly skewered him. Reflecting on how close they were.


Eli snapped into action as he made the connection, struggling to reach his knife. His fingers finally entwining around the hilt he pulled it free and cut himself from the bonds of his parachute. As if it were pleased to be emancipated it leapt into the wind and fluttered off to be tangled in the trees Eli now stood to face.

The woods were right there. Now was the best chance he could possibly ask for. He glanced back toward the rest of the group, knowing they were in the center of the field. They had all landed as well, and he could faintly see four dark shapes rising from the mud. Eli didn’t know if they had seen him land or not, but between the dark of night and the curtain of rain there would be no finer opportunity for escape than now.

He slipped his empty parachute pack from his shoulders and sheathed his knife. He took special care to quickly go over his supplies. Thankfully, everything he had packed was still with him. Surviving in the wilderness would be a breeze with all this equipment. Finally, Eli thought, I’m safe.

He dashed toward the tree line, eager to slip into his sanctuary of freedom but still trying to be careful not to fall in the rain slick mud. With a quick glance back as he slipped through the tree line he confirmed that the team didn’t seem to see him. Four dark shifting shapes still stood out from the blackness of the distant center of the field. For a second, just a second, a sharp twinge of regret struck Eli’s heart. He shook it off as quickly as it had come. Those people weren’t his friends. Even if they were, he resolved, I wouldn’t be about to throw my life away just for some stupid mission.

Eli’s eyes were slow to adjust to the new blackness of the forest. The rain soaked field behind him had been dark, but the forest was sheer void. The trees and plants were cut from obsidian, and invisible hands stretched out to scratch and claw at Eli’s face and clothes as he blindly pushed his way deeper into the woods. Eventually, as he stumbled forward he began to pick out new shapes, to notice branches which he previously would have found with his forehead. As his vision cleared he picked up his speed.

The temptation to reach for his flashlight was strong but he knew better. If they decided to come looking for him it would be like a beacon drawing them right to him. There was also no way of knowing if there were any German soldiers nearby. Eli wasn’t terribly interested in being found by anyone that night, so the flashlight stayed off.

An invisible force reached out and clung to Eli’s right ankle dragging him down face first to the forest floor. He scrambled to pull it free, visions of some creeping monster flashing in his eyes but calmed down when he realized he had just snagged his foot in an exposed root. The root struggled to hold him but he wrenched his foot free and sat there for a moment laughing at his lack of nerve. There aren’t any monsters out here…


Even Eli’s thoughts fell silent as he heard the sound behind him. It was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced again by the soft patter of the rain through the pines. Fleeting as it was the sound was unmistakable. The snapping of a trodden on twig.

Slowly he pushed himself up to his feet, taking care to be as silent as possible. His ears were perked, scanning for any out of place sound amid the whispering of the wind and rain in the boughs. There was nothing but the familiar hush. He wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. Perhaps it had just been his nerves, still jarred from his fall. Maybe it was just a deer.


Eli’s head snapped to his left. It was the same sound, the snap of a twig. This time it had come from the side. The furious beat of Eli’s pulse filled his ears, threatening to drown out even the rain. His right hand instinctively slid down to find his submachine gun. The urge rose in him to run back the way he had come, but he would just be running back to the field where his team was. They must have realized I’m missing by now, he thought, they may still be looking for me.

He peered into the blackness, squinting in an effort to peel back the dark veil in front of him. Slowly he could see a shape shifting ahead of him. A shadow slithered in the space between the trees. It dipped and bobbed a little as it moved, advancing toward Eli methodically. Each footstep was placed carefully, like a cat unsure if the prey it’s stalking has noticed its presence. With a bob it gently stepped close enough for Eli to see it clearly in the dark, and instantly Eli wished he had stayed with the group.

The eyes of the Deinonychus glinted even in the dim light. The colors of its plumage weren’t as bright as Eli had imagined, but rather a mossy, brownish green. It saw that Eli had noticed it and it froze, one terrible foot hung mid-step in the air, tucked carefully to its belly.

Struggling to keep his hands from shaking Eli gradually lifted his Thompson to his shoulder being extra careful not to make any sudden movements that might spur the raptor to charge. His training the other day had made him confident he could hit his target from this distance. He wasn’t happy about the noise it would make, but that would be something to worry about later – when he wasn’t about to be disemboweled. He peered down the iron sights of the weapon. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to squeeze the trigger.

A shifting to his right froze his finger in place. He peered from the corner of his eyes and could just make out another dark shape, crouching in the shadows to his right. Waiting. A soft rustle wafted from his left where he had heard the second twig snap and realized he was being surrounded.


Dropping his weapon to dangle from its strap at his shoulder he turned as fast as could and dove back the way he came. Tearing through the branches and bramble that had reached out to caress him on his escape into the woods. Behind him he heard a trill. It had a gurgling quality like the gobble of a turkey, but was strangely melodic – almost like a songbird. The first trill was joined by another, then another, each adding another key until they combined into a haunting chord.

Eli would have found it to be a beautiful sound if he didn’t recognize it for what it was. A hunting call. The warbling trills cut silent in unison and the even more terrifying sound of three agile, muscular bodies sliding through the underbrush met Eli’s ears. The sound drove him faster, rivulets of blood running down his cheeks from tolls the pine branches were taking as they whipped past.

He wasn’t going to make it. He could hear their footfalls now, slapping rhythmically in the mud and roots. This was where he was going to die.

A much thicker wall of brush rose in front of him and he crashed through it blindly. The brush ripped at his eyes as he tore through it and he snapped them shut tightly, refusing to stop in his blindness. His feet no longer felt the uneven tangle of roots, and he thought he heard the faint jingle of metal moving in front of him. His feet slid out from under him on the new, slick surface and fell forward into the muck.

“Private Watts!” a familiar woman’s voiced called out in surprise.

Eli heard the sound of the tree line erupt behind him in a symphony of growls and snarls. Another familiar voice swore in the darkness and the world around Eli exploded in the sound of gunfire. Then, there was silence.

A firm grip wrapped itself around the back of Eli’s collar and hoisted him up from the mud. Coughing and choking, as much from the mud he had swallowed from the tightness of his collar, Eli looked around him and realized where he was.

He had run right back to the landing zone. Cpt. O’Donnell held Eli upright until he was sure he could stand on his own, patting him on the back as he coughed. Ahead of him in the field Maj. Hawkins stood in the rain between Sgt. Lewis and Agent Walker. All three had their weapons out, held at their waists. Thin wisps of smoke coiled up from the barrels of Sgt. Lewis’s Springfield and Agent Walker’s M3.

Eli glanced behind him as they sloshed through the mud over to him. The pack of Deinonychus lay broken in the mud. The two to the left of Eli were riddled with bullet holes. The one to his right looked almost untouched, except for the single crimson blossom between its cold eyes.

“What happened?” Maj. Hawkins demanded as he stepped up to Eli. “Where were you?”

“I… I was in the woods. I was lost.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at Eli. Agent Walker stepped up holding a muddy brown mess in her hand.

“We found your parachute here in the field,” she said. “How did you get in the woods?”

Eli opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He scoured his mind for some plausible excuse.

Mis mind froze again when another familiar sound came from the distance in the trees Eli had just escaped from. A chorus of trills and hoots riding on the winds of the storm.

“Can we discuss this later?” Sgt. Lewis suggested.

Maj. Hawkins nodded. “Let’s go.”

Cpt. O’Donnell brushed past Eli and the four broke into a run toward the far line of trees. Eli had no choice but to follow them. The calls of their hunters taunting him from the forest behind.

Photo Credit: Tim Norris


Continue to the final installment of the 50,000 word challenge.

50,000 Word Challenge: Part 3

Battalion Aid Station by DuneChaser

This is the third part of my 50,000 words in 30 days challenge. It’s a completely unedited first draft written with the primary goal of getting out as many words as possible in a short time, so don’t expect too much from it. More parts will come each week as the challenge progresses. You can read the previous chapter here.

Chapter 3: A New Assignment

Eli’s knees gave out from under him as he watched the flaming rubble of the tower crash to the Earth. Pulling himself back together he crawled to the edge of the concrete and slid back down to the ground.

Sgt. Lewis swore in astonishment, “You are just full of surprises aren’t you Watts?”

Eli could only shake his head numbly. The shock of what he had just done washed over him and he started shaking again. A small squad of U.S. Soldiers swept through the tench past Eli and Sgt. Lewis. Setting his back against the trench wall, Eli slowly slid down into the dirt. Sidling up next to him, Sgt. Lewis held a strange looking cigarette in front of Eli. He slid down the wall into the dirt. “A present from Jerry,” he explained, wagging the cigarette. “Don’t think he’ll mind I borrowed it. Looks hand rolled.”

Eli stared blankly at the pilfered cigarette. Accepting his silence as a refusal, Sgt. Lewis shrugged and lit the cigarette himself. His eyes closed and his head lolled against the wall while tendrils of smoke wound their way around his head.

The effects of he adrenaline coursing through Eli and Sgt. Lewis slowly began to fade, replaced by a creeping fatigue that pressed down on them with an immovable weight. The two men sat against the trench wall as the battle continued around them. The destruction of the tower served as a rallying call to the U.S. soldiers. Demoralized, the Germans began to fall back trying desperately to rally.

The loss of the dinosaur soldiers proved too crushing a blow for the Germans. Eli and Sgt. Lewis were still sitting in the trench when the Sun finally sank below the horizon. The last pockets of German resistance were being rooted out and a staging area was being constructed on the beach. Long shadows flickered over the sand and surf as soldiers worked to clear the landing area under the harsh glare of stadium lights.

Eventually, a group of soldiers came to lead Eli and Sgt. Lewis to the main encampment. Eli had no idea what time it was and was only vaguely aware of the bright, full moon that hung in the night sky above them. He moved as if he were in a dream. They reached the camp and he watched numbly as Sgt. Lewis was led in a different direction from Eli. Guided by the soldiers that had come to collect them he blindly stumbled into a large tent set up in a field near the rubble of the destroyed tower. The fog in Eli’s mind cleared just enough for him to recognize that his guides had left him standing in front of a large cot, one of dozens in the dark tent.

Still shaking, he slid under the covers. The full weight of the day’s struggles rolled over him and despite the clamor around the tent he slipped off into a deep sleep.
While his exhausted body turned to lead in his slumber, Eli’s mined roiled in the darkness. He found himself standing at the front door of his parents’ house. The front door swung open about a foot, as if the last person who had gone in hadn’t bothered to close it. He shuddered. Something about it felt wrong. Eli wanted to turn and run but he watched as his hand reached out and pressed on the latch of the screen door. The familiar creak of the screen as it opened reminded Eli of his childhood for a moment and he pushed his way into the house.

He was standing in his parents’ bedroom. Eli’s brows creased in confusion when he didn’t see the living room that the front door opened into. He didn’t remember coming up the stairs. He glanced down at his parents’ bed in front of him and a cold fear washed the confusion from his mind. The sheets were pulled to the headboard.

Two long mounds swelled under the covers. They were soaked in blood. His mother’s hand hung loosely out over the edge of the bed from under the comforter, her wedding ring was stained red.

Every part of Eli wanted to run screaming from the house. He had no control as he again watched himself creep forward, step by step to the left side of the bed. His hand inched toward the edge of the blood-soaked comforter. He already knew what he wound find beneath them. He didn’t want to see it, but he couldn’t stop his hand. His fingers curled around the edge of the wet fabric. Just as he was about to rip the sheets from the bed a growl from behind him froze him in place.

Eli faced the doorway to his parents’ bedroom. He didn’t remember turning. Facing him in the door frame was a feathered creature. Its head bobbed inquisitively, hanging around level with Eli’s waist. Two feathered arms, like small deformed wings, were tucked in close to the creature’s body each ending in three sharp claws. Blood stained its jaws, long streaks of crimson clashing with bright white plumage of its throat. Crimson rivulets dripped slowly from the razors at the ends of its folded arms forming a sanguine pool around its feet. A single toe on each foot curved upward into a red scythe. Both of those terrible claws as soaked in blood as the rest of its talons.

Terrible claws, Eli’s thoughts echoed through the room, Deinonychus antirrhopus.

Staring into the monster’s cold, reptilian eyes he knew the thing was responsible for the horror that lay beneath the covers behind him. He stood frozen as another blood soaked head bobbed into view behind the first. Then another, and another. Eli’s heart began to race but his legs were cemented in place. The lead Deinonychus dipped its shoulders and growled, then lunged forward at Eli.

Eli’s feet pounded the soft dirt as he ran. Over the heaving of his breath and the drumming of his heart he could just make out the sound of the Deinonychus pack behind him. The world around him was a blur of mottled green and brown. Branches clawed at his face and roots tangled his feet but he never slowed, never dared to look back. He could hear them slipping through the brush behind him, unhindered by the overgrowth. They were built for this. Eli could practically feel the breath of the pack as they inched closer and closer to him. Shafts of bright light cut through the forest ahead of him. He drove himself as hard as he could toward the light.

Bursting through the verdant wall of plants he instinctively covered his eyes as he left the shadows of the woods and found himself in a bright, open field. A tremor shook the ground beneath his feet and in front of him, the Tyrannosaur he had killed turned and lowered its head to look into Eli’s eyes. He shuddered uncontrollably as he met its gaze. Its cold, glassy eyes were milky white – clouded over in the veil of death. The gaping hole in its throat where the grenades had fulfilled their grisly purpose was dripping with congealed blood and gore. The decaying beast opened its massive jaws and roared, the stench of rotting flesh billowing from its throat.

Eli screamed.

He bolted straight up in his cot, practically flinging the blanket to the floor. His clothes were drenched in sweat and he had to fight to catch his breath. When his pounding heart finally came back under his control, he noticed his arm and head had been cleaned and bandaged at some point during the night. He swung his legs over the edge of the cot and his head sunk into his hands. Dinosaurs, he turned the word over in his mind. How can they have dinosaurs? He shivered again as vestiges of his nightmares still danced in his vision. No matter how he thought about it, it just didn’t make any sense. Under any other circumstances Eli knew he would be marveling over the opportunity to get even a glimpse of a real, living dinosaur. Now I’ll be happier to never see another one again, he reflected bitterly.

Taking a deep, controlled breath Eli began to collect his thoughts. The previous day’s fighting had been his first taste of real combat. He had been terrified before it began. Now that he had actually experienced it, he was determined to never have to experience it again. Seeing men torn to mangled shreds by gunfire and shrapnel was horrifying enough, the thought of facing more of those monsters on top of it was just too much. He had to get out somehow.

How can I though, he wondered, I can’t just swim back across the English channel. His mind raced through each possible scenario. He knew from the briefings that the overall plan once the landing areas had been secured was for each zone to meet up and then to push further into France. If he stayed he would be back on the front lines soon. There would be no telling when, but he knew it would be inevitable. No, he had to get away somehow.

Finding transport back to the U.S. or the U.K. would be impossible. Escaping into the nearest town was feasible, but Eli spoke neither French nor German and if the occupying forces found out he was an Allied soldier he might as well just drown himself in the sea and save them the pleasure of torturing him. He might be able to get sent back if he could prove he were unfit to serve, but that posed new problems. If he acted insane he might get sent home, but it would likely mean being thrown in a mental institution for who knows how long. He could also wound himself, but he knew after the carnage of the previous day and the close victory they had won it would have to be a very serious injury to warrant sending him back stateside. Eli resolved that he was willing to lose a limb if it came to it, if that was what it took to avoid being pushed back into the maelstrom, but it was definitely a last resort.

My best option is to get away from here he decided. He had been trained in rudimentary wilderness survival in basic training, if he could slip off into the countryside he might be able to scrap together a meager existence until the Allied forces were able to move on and reclaim the rest of France. At least that way he would be able to stay in friendly territory. The punishment for soldiers who went AWOL was grim but, compared to death by artillery shell or between the teeth of a monster, a firing squad seemed merciful.

Eli resolved himself on the proposition. He would slip out of the camp at his first chance and get as far into the country as he could then set up camp and wait it out. The thought of struggling to keep alive off the land wasn’t a pleasant prospect, but of all his options it looked like the one most likely to get him out of the most danger. Hopefully, by the time they noticed he was missing they would just assuming he was resting at the bottom of the sea. Besides, he reasoned, if I do get caught I can tell them I was lost or something.

He glanced around the tent he had woken in. It was lined with cots like his own from end to end. On each end loose flaps hung obscuring the openings out onto the cliff tops. All but three of the cots were empty – the three that were occupied held slumbering soldiers, all of them bandaged far more heavily than Eli. Looking around his cot, he found that all of his weapons and equipment had been taken from him. He had also been stripped of the top of his uniform so that his arm could be tended to. Each cot had a metal trunk at its foot.

Eli pulled himself to his feet. His muscled ached from the previous day’s fighting, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind and went to his trunk. It creaked loudly as he opened it and he instinctively glanced at the sleeping men. When he was sure none of them had stirred he pulled a fresh uniform out of the trunk and dressed himself as quietly as possible. His trunk had only contained clothing. Eli was unsure if he should be pleased or concerned that the replacement uniform they had provided had his name on it. He surveyed the tent again and his eyes fixed on on the belt of one of the wounded soldiers. His bayonet had been left in its sheath on his belt. Eli crept over and carefully removed it along with the sheath and affixed it to his own belt. The quartermaster would supply another one, and a knife would be essential to his survival.

Fighting the simultaneous urges to sneak or run Eli pulled in another long breath to calm his nerves and strode casually out into the daylight.

The bright Sun still sat low over the Eastern horizon, the long shadows of the morning stretching out over the camp. They had obviously been busy overnight, as a forward base of operations had taken solid shape. There was still much work to be done however, and soldiers scrambled about busily each absorbed in the task he’d been assigned. There would be no better time than now for Eli to slip away unnoticed. Once the camp settled down it would be much easier for him to be noticed or his absence missed.

The tent he had been led to was roughly in the middle of where the Allies had been setting up camp. To his far right at the top of the cliff was the only service road leading out of the area. Trucks, armor and soldiers all streamed down it out of the camp, but it was heavily guarded. Even if he slipped in with one of the groups leaving if he couldn’t get away from them he just be carried off to the front lines again. Far to Eli’s left a large group of soldiers was collecting bodies, both German and American. Past them was a thick stand of trees overgrown with underbrush. If he could get into there unnoticed he could disappear without a problem.

Slipping through the buzzing groups of soldiers scrambling around the camp he made his way as casually as possible toward the makeshift morgue. With each step he could feel his pulse quicken and a slick sheen of sweat began to coat his palms. He knew he had to act as normal as possible or he’d never even make it to the edge of the camp. After what seemed like hours of walking, but was really no more than ten minutes, Eli stood at the edge of a growing collection of bodies. Bile rose in his throat as the smell overtook him.

Keeping watch on the men working to collect, identify and organize the dead, Eli crept around the piles of bodies toward the woods. There were no guards around the perimeter. Twenty more feet and he could slip away to live in relative peace until this whole mess had passed. With the mounds of corpses between him and the workers he realized the coast was clear. He strode quickly toward the lush green border between freedom and death. I’m going to make it, he shouted in his head.

“Private Elijah Watts!” a deep, commanding voice called from behind him.

Eli froze where he stood, struggling not to panic. The urge to just run welled up inside him but he knew it would be useless, they would just send someone in after him. They even knew me by name Eli thought. Visions of a firing squad flashed in his head and he knew his fate was sealed. He scrambled to come up with excuses for where he was going, frantically clinging to the hope that since he hadn’t crossed the camp’s boundaries yet they may not try him as a deserter.

“Private Elijah Watts!” the voice called again from behind him, sounding impatient and irritated.

Eli turned slowly, fear making the motion jerky and stiff. Three men strode toward him. In the center was a tall, broad shouldered man in a crisp uniform. The gleaming decorations on his uniform declared in no uncertain terms that this was a man of high rank. Flanking him were two stern MPs. The men strode up to Eli and he saluted, struggling to keep his hand from shaking at his brow. The shining eagle on the man’s uniform showed him to be a colonel.

“Private Watts?” the colonel barked again, more of a statement than a question as he fixed his eyes on Eli’s name tag.

“Y-Yes sir,” Eli stammered back.

“Come with me,” the colonel ordered then spun quickly on his heel and marched back toward the camp.

There was no choice but for Eli to follow behind him and the MPs as they silently led him through the tangle of tents and fortifications. He tried his best to steel himself as they marched toward what he expected to be the camp prison. For a second he wondered if maybe they would just skip all that and take him right to the firing squad. The colonel and MPs took him down one of the steep paths leading from the cliff to the beach. Eli marveled at the transformation. Where yesterday there had been nothing but death, blood and carnage a fully functional harbor had been constructed. Fresh troops, vehicles and supplies were being unloaded onto the beach by a steady stream of transport ships.

He didn’t have long to marvel at the differences before the colonel and his escorts directed him to a medium sized tent erected in the center of the beach just past the shingle. There were multiple guards stationed around the tent. It’s settled then, Eli concluded, they’re going to lock me up until I can be tried. As they approached the tent, Eli noticed the banner hanging above the guarded entrance read ‘Command’. Before he could think about why they would be leading him to the command tent the two guards saluted the colonel and stepped to the side holding the flaps open. The colonel and his two escorts also stepped to the side and he gestured for Eli to go on ahead into the tent.

Eli hesitated for a moment, then cautiously stepped through the dark opening. He squinted for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside the tent. A large round table sat in the sand in the center of the tent, hanging lanterns casting a red-orange glow on the maps and papers spread on top of it. A small group of people were seated around the table huddled over the documents. The man seated directly across the table from Eli looked up from studying the maps and smiled.

“Ah, Private Watts,” he said, “we’ve been expecting you.” Short gray hair sat parted cleanly atop the man’s head. His long face radiated a sense of stern command masked slightly by the warmth of his eyes. He peered down his aquiline nose at Eli. The large square of colored bars on his chest glinted in the dim light of the command tent.
Eli’s eyes widened and he snapped into a stiff salute as he realized who sat before him. “General Gerow! Sir!” he nearly shouted in surprise. The room swam a little as the drumming of his pulse in his temples started again. He thought he might faint, and had to fight the urge to shake his head to focus. They had brought him before the general! He was done for and he knew it. The only reason he could think of to bring him there was to order his immediate execution.

“At ease private. Have a seat.” General Gerow gestured toward a folding chair at the table in front of Eli.

Eli stepped forward and sank down into the chair before his mind could fully process the request. Only once he was seated did he pay attention to the other people in the room. One man sat at the general’s right hand, and three others to his left. A dull red glow flared over the leftmost man’s face as he took a heavy draw off of his cigarette casting sharp shadows over his dark, angular face. Eli’s jaw dropped open.

“Lewis!?” he blurted, forgetting for a moment where he was.

“Sergeant Lewis,” he corrected, “good to see you Watts.”

General Gerow cast a sidelong glance at Sgt. Lewis as the colonel who had brought Eli circled around the table and bent to whisper in his ear. As he spoke, both men glanced back at Eli. The colonel straightened back up and took a step backward into the shadows of the tent and another smile slowly blossomed over Gen. Gerow’s face.

The general’s gaze bored into Eli as he spoke with a deliberate slowness, “It seems we found you at just the right time Pvt. Watts. The colonel here tells me he brought you from over by the body collectors. Is that where you were assigned private?”

“N-No sir.” As hard as he fought to conceal them Eli’s nerves stammered through in his voice.

“I see,” Gen. Gerow continued. “Why, come to think of it, that area is right by the far edge of camp isn’t it? Funny, I can’t seem to figure out what you would have been doing way over there if you were assigned to it…”

Eli forced himself to swallow the heavy lump that had settled in his throat. The general was looking at him innocently, as if he was waiting for Eli to chime in and explain but Eli couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Finally, after a few minutes of thick, painful silence the general resumed speaking. “No matter, Pvt. Watts. No matter, because I’ve got a new assignment for you. I hand-picked you for it myself.” The general paused to beam at Eli again as if he should be honored, but Eli’s face was petrified in the shocked expression he had held since he entered the tent. “You saw them,” he continued. “The dinosaurs. The wires have been buzzing all night – these weren’t the only ones. They are proving a little… difficult to handle.”

Slowly Eli forced his teeth back together and began to collect himself. He didn’t want to believe there could be more of those monsters out there.

Gen. Gerow folded his hands on the table. “We first suspected something was wrong when the 101st went in the night before the beach landing. They were supposed to secure the causeways for our landing, destroy the artillery at Saint-Martin-de-Varreville and hold key objectives until the arrival of the main invasion force.” He sighed heavily as his gaze fell to the table, staring through it more than at it.

“There was nothing but silence after the drops. Whole battalions unaccounted for. An hour before we launched the landing operation we received the first and only radio transmission for the 101st. Only one word came through.” He locked eyes with Eli again.


Another heavy silence draped itself over the room. Eli was transfixed by the general’s piercing stare.

“We didn’t know what to make of it, but had no choice but to proceed with the operation. Now we understand. For all we know the Nazis have an entire army of those… things.” Gen. Gerow shook his head slowly. “If they do, we don’t stand a chance. Head-to-head we barely stand a chance against the monsters we’ve already seen and we have no idea what other horrors they might be saving for us. No, we have to cut these things off at the source.”

The general’s logic was sound to Eli. Just the handful of dinosaurs fielded yesterday had nearly crippled the entire invasion force, if there were a whole army of them they would be nearly unstoppable. He still didn’t understand where he came in on all of this.

“We have received intelligence,” the general said turning slightly to look at the man to his right, “that there is currently only a single laboratory producing these monsters. This research facility is also the only location with the information on how the dinosaurs are being created. The scientist responsible is very… protective of his work and won’t allow the data to be stored elsewhere. We intend to send a team in to destroy the lab and all of the research that led to these abominations.”

The general refolded his hands and looked back at Eli. Both brows raised slightly. “Any questions?” he asked.

“Um… only one, sir,” Eli began hesitantly. “What does all of this have to do with me?”

Gen. Gerow’s head cocked slightly to the side as though Eli had just asked what color the sky was. “Your new assignment, private. Word got around about what you did yesterday. You’re something of a hero, son – and you’re going to destroy that lab.”

A pallor flooded over Eli’s face as the blood drained away. Him? He would be going? He was going to be sent to the very doorstep of the beasts.

The general’s eyes read the look in Eli’s pale face and the shaking of his hands like a book. “Of course,” he said, “if you don’t want to go I would understand. Instead we could always discuss precisely what you were doing at the edge of camp this morning. I’m still very curious about that.”

The threat was clear. Eli had two choices. He could agree to go on the mission or he could be held as a deserter and face the firing squad. Something in the general’s cold smile told Eli that if he refused there would be no trial. He got the feeling he wouldn’t even make it to lunch, he’d just be dragged out to the surf and shot. No one would question the general’s orders. At least if he agreed to the mission there was a slim chance he could find an opportunity to slip away. Eli nodded in a nervous motion far more jerky than he intended.

“I’ll do it.”

“I thought you would. Allow me then to introduce you to your team.” He turned his attention to the men at his left. “I believe you’re already acquainted with Sergeant Holden Lewis,” he said nodding to him at the end of the group, “he will be filling the roles of sniper and team medic.” He gestured to the man seated next to Sgt. Lewis.

“And this is Captain Nick O’Donnell.”

Cpt. O’Donnell smiled at Eli and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. It was hard to tell while he was seated, but he looked shorter than the other men. He made up for the lack of height in thickness, his uniform swelled with muscle and the seams of his sleeves looked ready to burst whenever his biceps flexed. A thick, sinewy neck sprouted from his broad shoulders to support the cinder block of flesh that composed his head. His hair and eyes were both the deep brown of freshly tilled soil.

“Cpt. O’Donnell will be the demolitions and heavy weapons expert for your team. He’s proved himself quite adept at destroying things in the past, he’ll be the one in charge of making sure the laboratory is completely destroyed. Next is your squad leader, Major Leon Hawkins.” He indicated the man seated directly to his left. “Once in the field, Maj. Hawkins is in control of the operation.”

Maj. Hawkins continued to eye Eli as he was introduced but otherwise remained motionless. The sharp lines of his jaw bent upward to meet his short buzzed blond hair at his temples. The right angles of his hairline neatly framed the cold, intelligent blue eyes that were fixed on Eli. Though his face was expressionless, he knew Maj. Hawkins was silently appraising him. Deciding just how much of a burden Eli was going to be. The name was fitting. There was an aura of regal pride about the man and Eli suspected if he grew his golden mane out he would look very much like a lion.

The general appeared to be finished with his introductions when a quiet but firm “ahem” came from the shadows behind the man to Gen. Gerow’s right. Eli glanced up, startled slightly by the sound and realized a woman had been silently standing there the entire time. An involuntary gasp broke from his mouth and he quickly clamped it shut as he looked into her eyes. The umbrous outfit hugging her lithe, athletic form melted into the dark of the tent where she stood. Hair the color of glowing embers cascaded around her shoulders. The flicker of the lanterns made it look like a halo of fire danced around her face. Set amid the wild conflagration of her hair were two clear, green emeralds for eyes.

“Ah, yes,” Gen. Gerow continued looking over his shoulder at the woman, “I nearly forgot. Special Agent Rose Walker here will also be joining you on the operation.”
Like Maj. Hawkins, Agent Walker remained motionless through her introduction, standing like a marble statue with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Well then,” Gen. Gerow placed his palms on the table and stood. He gestured to the man seated to his right. “I’ll allow my friend here to handle your briefing. Good luck.” Everyone but the man the general had indicated stood and saluted as he walked around the table and ducked out of the tent, the colonel close behind him. Once he was gone, the men returned to their seats while Agent Walker resumed her statuesque pose.

All eyes turned to the man who was seated to the right of where the general had been. His short jet black hair sat in start contrast to the blueish pallor of the man’s rectangular face. He looked like he had never seen even a hint of sunlight, the only color to his face a tinge of purple resting in the puffy bags beneath his eyes. Instead of a military uniform a dark blue suit complete with matching tie was fitted tidily to his slender frame. The man slowly looked at each member of the squad and Eli shivered when the man’s scrutinizing glare finally fell on him. There was a mesmerizing quality to his sterile gray irises sunk deep into the cavernous sockets of his gaunt visage that stirred some deep and primal fear in Eli.

“Let’s begin,” the man’s voice had a lilting quality to it suggesting English was not the language he had spoken as a child, though Eli couldn’t place the accent. “As the general graciously pointed out, our agents have pinpointed the location of the laboratory responsible for producing the dinosaurs here, just outside of Hamburg.” He placed a thin white finger on a point in the north of a map of Germany.

Cpt. O’Donnell learned forward over the table. “How were you able to find this place so quickly?”

The man in the suit didn’t bother looking up. “We’ve known for some time that the Germans had been developing weapons in this lab-”

“You knew!?” Eli exclaimed leaning forward. “Why didn’t you warn anyone!?”

The chill of the man’s wintry eyes washed back over him. “We knew they were developing something. We didn’t know what that something was.” He slid another photograph from beneath the pile and laid it in the center of the table. “This is the man responsible for developing the dinosaurs, Dr. Nikolai Kessler.”

The photo itself was a grainy black and white shot, Eli squinted in the dim light of the tent but couldn’t get a good idea of what this Dr. Kessler looked like.

“You will be dropped under cover of darkness the night following tomorrow thirty miles to the northwest of Hamburg. You must then find your way to the laboratory without being detected. Once you have infiltrated the lab Agent Walker will ensure the research data is properly erased and Cpt. O’Donnell will plant the explosives necessary to destroy the facility. Evac will take place at the drop point five days following the start of the operation. Do not be late.”

For the following hour he man in the suit poured over the fine details of their mission. Eli struggled to memorize the specifics of the mission. The remainder of the team followed along in a disinterested, businesslike fashion. Occasionally a member of the group would interject with a question, which the man in the suit would address before moving on.

Finally, he pushed himself up from his seat. “I will leave the remainder of the preparations to Maj. Hawkins over the next two days. Good luck.”

He stood stiffly and began to leave the tent. “Wait,” Eli protested, “I still don’t understand why I’m involved in all of this. What I did on the beach, that was just luck, I…”

The man in the suit froze, his hand hung parting the curtain to the beach. Bright sunlight reflected off his ashen face. He spoke without turning. “Mr. Watts. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world.” In a flash of bright sunlight he fluttered through the tent opening and was gone.

Eli sat in stunned silence as the flap fluttered shut, his eyes struggling to readjust to the softly luminescent lanterns. He fought hard to come to terms with what had just transpired, to make some sense of it all. It was vitally important for him to remember the details of the briefing – his survival depended on it – but he still felt as if this all was just some long and twisted nightmare. A pain shot up his thigh bringing the realization that he had absentmindedly pinched himself just to be certain.

Escape. Freedom. Safety. They had all been just yards away. Now, far from finding freedom and safety he was commanded to march directly into the jaws of his nightmares. It’s just as light change in plans, he reasoned to himself. I’ll wait until the operation begins then slip away into Germany. They won’t abandon the mission just to come find me. At least, he hoped not.

He knew it wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was the only chance he could see. His earlier resolve to face a firing squad rather than combat had melted away in the face of that becoming a very real threat. Eli wasn’t ashamed of feeling like a coward, he could accept that in the knowledge that he was being as pragmatic as possible.

Maj. Hawkins was the one to break the silence, snapping Eli from his introspective reverie. “Effective immediately you are all under my command. You have one hour to eat then I expect you at dock Charlie at 1300 hours. Dismissed.”

With that he stood and marched from the tent. Agent Walker flipped a stray tongue of fiery hair back over he shoulder and strode out after him. Cpt. O’Donnell was last to leave. He nodded slowly in his seat, as if he was still processing the briefing, then looked to Eli and Sgt. Lewis as he rose.

“See you at the dock,” he said, and walked out.

The butt of Sgt. Lewis’s last cigarette tumbled into the sand softly at his feet amid the sizable pile that had accumulated there during the briefing. His features seemed to twist and shift as the smoke twirled lazily around his face. He savored that last draw, then opened his eyes to look at Eli.

“Come on Watts,” he said, “let’s get some chow.”

Without waiting for a reply he strode casually through the tent flaps into the blinding daylight beyond. The next few moments felt like hours for Eli. He close his eyes in the shadows of the command tent and drew in a deep, slow breath. Bit by bit he wrestled and fought the stress and fear of the situation, pulling it from the reaches of his consciousness, gathering it together, compressing it. Bundled and secure, he forced it into the deep recesses of his being. A change in plans, he repeated in his thoughts. I won’t let this stop me. Over and over he repeated it. Each time the words become stronger, more concrete. Finally, his eyes snapped open, finally adjusted to the dim tent. He knew what he had to do, and he was ready to do it.

He slipped into the blinding daylight and squinted to find the shape of Sgt. Lewis striding off to the mess tent. Eli hurried after him. Sgt. Lewis had just reached the dining area by the time Eli caught up with him. He acknowledged Eli with a glance and then stepped into the tent. The makeshift cafeteria was housed in a large circular tent, if it weren’t for the olive drab exterior it almost could’ve passed for a circus tent. Inside two long rows of tables were set up framed by low benches on each side. On the left side of the tent a series of tables had been strung together to form a serving area. Stacks of trays bookended long rows of warming dishes keeping the available food as presentable as possible.

Even though it had to be around noon, there were surprisingly few soldiers eating. No one was in line at the serving table. The few others that occupied the tent sat huddled in staggered groups at the tables, their trays holding varying amounts of food. Sgt. Lewis slid a try off the top of the top of the stack.

“I’m only going to say this once Watts,” he said without looking away from the food. “That was impressive what you did yesterday.”

Eli was stunned by the compliment. “Um… thank you,” he replied.

Sgt. Lewis began his strafing run of the warming dishes, indiscriminately scooping large portions of each offering into a growing heap on his tray. Eli slipped a tray from the stack and followed suit, though he was more discerning in his food choices. When the order to eat had been given the last thing Eli could have ever thought of was forcing food down. Being told you had to either go on a suicide mission or be executed on the spot had a way of killing one’s appetite.

Now that his fate was sealed and he had once again settled himself into his resolve of escaping, a gnawing hunger had slowly begun to creep into Eli’s stomach. The food was hardly gourmet fare, but as the combined smells washed over him he realized he hadn’t eaten a bite since the previous morning, and that gnawing growl of his stomach steadily grew into a ravenous roar to be fed. By the end of the line of dishes he had become as indiscriminate as Sgt. Lewis.

The two men settled into a table near the far end of the tent, away from the other groups of dining soldiers. It hadn’t needed to be stated that their mission was on a strict need to know basis. The last thing they needed was to be near a gaggle of inquisitive eavesdroppers. They silently began digging in once they were seated, ravenously forking globs of mixed morsels into their mouths. As he watched Sgt. Lewis shovel down the mountain on is tray Eli realized he must not have eaten since the previous morning either.

Once the greedy fires of their bellies had been tempered somewhat they began to slow down, allowing themselves to breathe between bites.

“So what do you think about this special mission business?” Sgt. Lewis muttered through bulging cheeks.

Eli considered the question for a minute across the table. He couldn’t tell Sgt. Lewis about his plans to desert, that would be like marching himself off to the firing range and pulling the trigger himself. At the same time, something made him cringe at the thought of lying to him. He barely knew Sgt. Lewis, and he couldn’t call him a friend, but Eli was aware the shared danger of the previous day had connected them somehow.

“I don’t like it.” Eli shook his head slowly, his plastic fork stabbed upright into the remains of his meal. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m not cut out for this.”
Sgt. Lewis struggled to swallow his massive mouthful. “You were useful enough yesterday,” he replied bluntly. “Besides, you said you’re a paleontologist, right?”

Eli nodded slightly. He was surprised he remembered.

“Well, then you’re just about as perfect for this assignment as anyone. We’re hunting dinosaurs Watts. Dinosaurs. What’s your specialty?”

“Dinosaurs,” Eli grumbled.

“That’s right. I can shoot a rat in the eye from a mile away, not to mention patch you up if you get in trouble. Nick can find a way to blow up just about anything, believe me, and Maj. Hawkins… don’t even get me started. He’s the best there is. If anyone can figure out a way to get into Krautville cause a ruckus then get out without a scrape, it’s him. On top of that we’ve got you, our resident dino dictionary. Relax.”

“You forgot someone,” Eli said, “Agent Walker.”

“You’re right…” Sgt. Lewis’s fork clattered down onto his barren tray as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Who knows what she’s capable of. I don’t like it though. She’s not army. Maybe CIA, but not army.” He paused and placed a hand on his slightly distended belly, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I don’t trust her. Besides, who sends a woman on a mission like this?”

Eli held his tongue. The inclusion of the woman had surprised him but there was something he had seen in her standing in the gloom of the command tent. There was a control in her step, a firmness that blended gracefully into the easy fluidity of her movements. Eli was no soldier, but he didn’t need to be to see it. It was a primal feeling, a tingle on the back of his neck whispering that a predator was near. Watching her stroll from the tent had been like watching a panther stalk by his chair.

Even more striking was the cold fire that had roared behind her viridian eyes. There was a frozen fury there, violent but calculating. Eli knew that she would kill without the slightest hesitation, and suspected that if she did it wouldn’t be the first time. Of all the team, he felt she was the most dangerous and probably the most qualified.
Eli considered asking how he knew Cpt. O’Donnell. He tried to force some small talk, but his heart wasn’t in it and he and Sgt. Lewis sat in silence for a time. His thoughts kept returning to the dangerous woman cloaked in shadow and crowned in flames. Something else stirred in him beside the primal chill she had sent shivering down his spine. An apprehension was curled there too, an excitement. She genuinely frightened him, but at the same time he was looking forward to being in the same group. He shook the thought from his head.

Sgt. Lewis yawned loudly and peeled his sleeve back exposing his watch. “Well, looks like its time to get to the boat. Let’s go Watts.” He stood from the table, groaning slightly as the large meal shifted in his gut. Eli slowly stood along with him, and the two men walked solemnly to the docks. With each step Eli repeated his mantra from the tent, but unlike then it failed to comfort him. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that the boat he was treading towards was there to deliver him to the jaws of death.

Photo Credit: Dunechaser


Continue reading the next installment in the 50,000 word challenge.

50,000 Word Challenge: Part 2

Fox Red - Omaha Beach by DuneChaser
This is the second installment in my 50,000 words in 30 days challenge. It’s a completely unedited first draft written with the primary goal of getting out as many words as possible in a short time, so don’t expect too much from it. More parts will come each week as the challenge progresses. You can read the previous chapter here.

Chapter 2: An Unlikely Hero

“A dinosaur,” Eli muttered to himself, “it’s really a dinosaur… How…”

The man on the back of the pteranodon reached an arm down around the beast to the harness around its slender body. His fingers slid down to one of the round bombs and unhooked it from its holster. He held it out over the shoulder of his mount as it quickly glided toward Eli and Sgt. Lewis. The monstrous shadow silently slipped over the two men and the beast’s rider let the bomb slip from his grasp.

“Move!” Sgt. Lewis shouted grabbing Eli and wrenching him from his reverie. Snapped back to his senses Eli sprinted after Sgt. Lewis up the steep slope towards where the the other soldiers had been bombed. Glancing back over his shoulder, Eli caught a glimpse of the rounded black mass gracefully gliding down to the spot they had stood a moment before. It fell heavily onto the sand and instantly a fiery explosion blossomed where it landed.

The shock-wave slammed into Eli and Sgt. Lewis like a truck. Eli’s breath was pressed from him and he landed roughly face-down in the sand and dirt. A warm trickle rolled down his forehead and glided around his right cheek. Sgt. Lewis was already back on his feet and was pulling Eli up by his uniform. “Come on, we have to keep moving before that thing turns around.”

Regaining his footing Eli stumbled after Sgt. Lewis toward the pillbox at the peak of the path. He could hear soldiers shouting down on the beach as they saw the beast, followed by the dull booms of the bombs its rider dropped. Eli turned around again just in time to watch the pteranodon swing back over the casement topped cliff and disappear from sight. Sgt. Lewis grabbed him again and pulled him along until they reached the pillbox.

They collapsed against it with their backs to the concrete, charred pieces of the soldiers that had been trying to open it smoldered, sitting scattered at their feet. A drop of crimson fell from Eli’s cheek and formed a bead in the sand. “I’m bleeding,” Eli muttered distantly.

Sgt. Lewis glanced at his forehead.”You were nicked by shrapnel, you’re fine,” he grunted. “Now, what did you say that thing was exactly?”

“I’m not entirely sure but, I think that was a pteranodon,” Eli said, still not entirely believing it himself. Sgt. Lewis lifted his eyebrows slightly, looking for more explanation. “They’re dinosaurs,” Eli continued, “well, o.k., pteranodons aren’t technically dinosaurs since dinosaurs have to be from the Saurischia or Ornithischia groups but they…”

“They’re dinosaurs,” Sgt. Lewis interjected, “got it.” He surveyed the top of the cliff from their position behind the pillbox, the stock of the carbine tucked against his shoulder. Low concrete walled trenches ran from casement to casement and formed a network at the top of the cliffs. Set back from the cliff at the top of the path was a two-story concrete bunker with a large metal roll-up door on the front. Sgt. Lewis expected there to be more German soldiers in the trenches, but it was strangely deserted looking. “The shooting has died down…” he muttered.

He was right, Eli realized. The relative quiet that had fallen over the beach was nearly as frightening as the explosions and gunfire it had replaced. “Why do you think the Germans stopped firing?” he asked.

Almost before the words had left Eli’s lips, another shadow fell over him and Sgt. Lewis. They instinctively crouched and looked skyward. Sgt. Lewis raised his weapon instinctively, then swore loudly and lowered it again as he took everything in.

A line of the pteranodons soared overhead in a very slight v-formation. There were at least ten on each wing not including the monster flying at point. The riders all unhooked their bombs in unison and began releasing them one by one as soon as they found targets. Shouts and screams mingled with gunfire as the soldiers still on the beach scrambled for cover and returned fire.

Sgt. Lewis lifted his weapon again trying to get a bead on one of the flying monsters. He had just peered down the sights when behind them at the top of the path the large door began to grind upward. Sgt. Lewis jumped to his feet and trained his weapon on the door as he and Eli backed away from the pillbox. Eli’s foot caught in a clump of grass pushing through the sand and he fell backwards. Scrambling to get back to his feet he glanced under the slowly rising door.

The light coming through the widening opening glinted off two sets of three ebony talons. Each talon was contained in a long toe which traced upward and joined its companions in forming a thick, muscular leg. Each leg looked like the twisted, sinewy trunk of a tree wrapped taught in a leathery, scaled skin the color of moss covered bark.

Eli didn’t wait for the door to get any higher. “Run,” he blurted out as he clawed his way to his feet.

“What?” Sgt. Lewis asked, noticing Eli’s wild-eyed expression.

“Run!” Eli shouted over his shoulder, legs already pounding as he raced down the sandy slope to the seawall. Sgt. Lewis glanced back at the door. The opening had grown to about six feet and he could clearly see the two enormous legs, shifting impatiently as they waited for the door to release them. Sgt. Lewis turned and ran after Eli.

Eli’s heart pounded in his chest and his lungs burned as he ran for the gap in the wall. He heard Sgt. Lewis gaining on him and looked back to see that he had almost caught up. Behind him, at the top of the cliff, the door finished its ascent.

Atop the two powerful legs sat a powerful, equally muscular body. Enormous hips tapered forward leading to a thick, s-shaped neck. Below the neck, two three foot long arms were tucked in close to the body – surprisingly small in relation to the rest of the gargantuan creature. At the end of its neck, held around thirteen feet off the ground, its monstrous head made up for the diminutive proportion of its arms. It opened its jaws, revealing the five foot long rows of gleaming daggers that were its teeth and bellowed. The sound was strange to Eli’s ears. It was as if the trumpet of an elephant and the roar of a lion had been blended with the sound of rolling thunder then amplified tenfold. He suppressed an instinctive shudder as the sound met his ears.

Eli had always wondered what a tyrannosaurus would sound like.

The monster launched itself through the doorway, its toes spreading as they sank into the dirt and sand under the massive weight. Over the titan’s sides were draped two long, flowing banners. Each was dyed the color of blood and bordered all around with a band of jet black. In the center of each banner was a black shield, embroidered with a silver eagle resting atop a swastika – the Heeresadler. Strapped over the tyrannosaur’s shoulders, nestled into the slight depression behind its serpentine neck, was a black leather saddle. Two long reins draped from each corner of the creature’s massive, slavering jaws to the hands of the man seated on its back.

Eli was mesmerized as the tyrannosaur thundered toward them. Sgt. Lewis raced past him down the hill reaching up with his left hand and smacking Eli firmly on the forehead. “Move!” he shouted.

Snapped back to reality he turned and chased after Sgt. Lewis. The ground shook as the tyrannosaur charged down the path behind them. Eli didn’t dare hazard another look over his shoulder. Chest heaving poured all of his strength into racing down the hill. The ground shook more violently under Eli as the sandbags and entrenchments that lined the incline blew past him in a blur. He could hear the heaving of the tyrannosaur’s breath behind him. He wasn’t going to make it. Suddenly, Sgt. Lewis’s right arm shot out from in front of him and grabbed Eli’s collar as he felt a blast of hot, moist air wash over his back. Sgt. Lewis left hand lashed out and caught the edge of a pillbox, the momentum swinging himself and Eli around to the left seconds before a wall of teeth and flesh roared past.

The rider tugged hard on the reins as the beast roared in frustration. The tyrannosaur tried to stop but its momentum continued to launch it down the hill. The claws on its feet dug into the sand but it was futile. The monsters feet slid out of it and it fell to its right side continuing to slide down the path in an avalanche of sand.

“Now’s our chance,” Sgt. Lewis barked, dashing out from behind the pillbox to race back up the hill. Eli forced himself to follow him, his legs burned and he still hadn’t caught his breath, but the thought of what waited for them at the bottom of the cliff drove him to move.

The rider pulled back hard on the reins, as the tyrannosaur lumbered back to its feet. Pointing it to the path he whipped the reins and kicked hard with his boots. The beast looked up at the sandy incline and hesitated, unsure of whether its weight would hold after the painful fall. Shouting in anger at its disobedience, the man pulled a long metal bar from the loop where it hung on the saddle. He pressed the end of the rod to the back of the creature’s head and a loud crackle sounded as the end touching the tyrannosaur’s skull flashed with the blue glow of arcing electricity. The beast bellowed in surprise and obediently charged forward up the slope.

Eli and Sgt. Lewis breathlessly reached the top of the cliff as the monster below began its climb. Its ascent was slowed by the shifting sands underneath its massive weight but it was gradually gaining ground. Overhead the squadron of pteranodons soared back from where they came, on their way to replenish their supply of bombs. Sgt. Lewis headed to the left and dropped into the trench leading to the nearest casement. Eli followed suit and started to run past, bent on getting away from the tyrannosaur. As he stepped in front of the doorway to the casement, gunfire erupted from inside. Sgt. Lewis caught Eli by the back of the collar and pulled him back from the doorway. Eli felt a sharp sting as a bullet grazed his left arm, the top of his sleeve blossoming in red.

Sgt. Lewis pressed him back into the wall of the trench. He snatched a grenade from a loop on Eli’s chest and pulled the pin. The release flew off the top and landed softly in the dirt a few feet away. Eli’s eyes widened as Sgt. Lewis clutched the grenade close to his chest, his eyes pressed close in concentration. “Three,” Sgt. Lewis whispered as he wheeled around and lobbed the grenade through the door of the casement then pressed Eli back into the wall. Shouts of frantic German came from the doorway. Before they had time to react a blast roared from the doorway with a flash of fire and a rolling wall of smoke.

A deafening roar sounded from behind them and Sgt. Lewis looked up to see the tyrannosaur had crested the top of the hill and was pounding toward them over the packed dirt. He grabbed Eli and threw him into the smoke-filled casement, diving in after him as gargantuan jaws snapped down on the spot they were standing.

Eli coughed and rubbed his eyes as the smoke slowly cleared. The tyrannosaur was struggling vainly to force its head into the door of the casement but the concrete held fast. Its slavering jaws filled the doorway as it tried to push its way in. All Eli and Sgt. Lewis could see of the monster was a wall of gnashing teeth draped over a tongue the size of a man and encased in a scaled hulk of muscle. A slight foam bubbled from its nostrils with each heaving breath as it snapped at its trapped prey.
Sgt. Lewis scowled and lifted his carbine. He fired several rounds into the monster’s snout and throat, small red pockmarks bursting open in its scaled flesh. With a snort the tyrannosaur yanked its head from the doorway. The men could see its two legs straddling the trench, then it slowly stomped out of sight as if it were headed back down the incline. Sgt. Lewis surveyed the inside of the casement, ending with a disapproving glare at Eli. “Pull yourself together, it’s embarrassing.”

Still coughing, Eli pulled himself to his feet. “If anything tries to come through that door,” Sgt. Lewis commanded, “you shoot it. Understand?” He turned away from Eli and stalked over to the opening in the casement overlooking the beach. Pure carnage lay before him on the beach. The landing craft had finally stopped their delivery of soldiers, and the beach was carpeted in bodies. Two more tyrannosaurs raged down on the beach, one in the center and one at the far edge. Unlike the one he and Eli had faced, their saddles had been outfitted with MG42s and their riders fired into the pockets of remaining soldiers on the beach.

The U.S. soldiers fought back as much as they could, but the monsters and their riders were too much for them and they were slowly being forced back into the waves. A plume of smoke blossomed from behind the shingle and traced to the side of one of the tyrannosaurs. The rocket exploded on contact and with a painful bellow the creature fell to the ground. It writhed in pain on the beach, kicking up giant waves of sand. It, at least, would never get back up. Sgt. Lewis shook his head and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lighting one, he turned back toward Eli.

“I thought I told you to cover the door,” Sgt. Lewis growled. Eli was dragging what was left of the torn bodies to the center of the casement. The struggle to not be sick was evident in the pale green that flushed his face as he worked. The bodies all in a pile, he began to methodically remove the laces from their boots one by one. “What are you even doing?” Sgt. Lewis asked, anger replaced by puzzlement over his behavior.

“That tyrannosaur’s still out there waiting for us.”

Sgt. Lewis strained his ears to listen. Over the faded gunfire and screams from the beach below he could hear the footfalls of the monster that had penned them pacing outside. They were trapped. “There’s another one down on the beach,” he remarked. Eli froze his strange work for a moment in consideration, then resumed. “That still doesn’t answer my question,” Sgt. Lewis continued.

“Tyrannosaurs were probably scavengers in addition to hunters,” Eli explained as he worked, “even if we’re wrong on that, I’m pretty sure he won’t pass up a fresh kill. I’m guessing they didn’t feed them this morning so they’d be hungry for the battle.” Eli shuddered a little. “I think we should give him a little snack.”

As he was speaking, Eli had woven several of the laces into a cord, roughly six feet long. At the end, the cord split into ten equal length sections of a single lace. Digging through the pile of bodies again, he started unhooking their belts. Once he had removed all the soldiers’ belts, he carefully examined the mangled pile of corpses. His searching eyes quickly stopped on a soldier that must’ve been very near to the grenade, because he was little more than a charred torso. Sgt. Lewis stood dumbstruck, idly puffing on his cigarette. Eli’s explanation had made nothing clearer.

Intent on his mysterious labor, Eli dragged the torso from under the pile and pulled it to the hallway leading out of the casement. Retrieving the pile of belts he had removed from the soldiers, he began strapping them all back onto the length of the bloody, dismembered torso. By the last belt, he had run out of room and he stood over the torso, surveying his work in deep contemplation. Finally, he removed the two grenades from the last belt. He tucked one into the only pocket still showing under the belts. Shuddering again, he gingerly wriggled the other into the man’s open mouth, the pin sticking out from between his teeth. As he knotted each of the ten individual laces at the end of the cord onto the pins of the grenades, Sgt. Lewis finally understood. He shook his head. “You are out of your mind, Watts.”

“I don’t see any other way out of this,” Eli replied, finishing the last knot. “I just hope it works.” With that he hoisted the torso up over his shoulders. He was still visibly fighting back his revulsion but something else stirred in him now alongside it. His hand shook less as he reached up and took hold of the long end of the cord. Taking one last deep breath he dashed through the casement door into the sunlight. He was no more than a few feet into the trench when the tyrannosaurs roar thundered over him. His head snapped to the right and and every muscle froze as he saw the beast barreling toward him, head lowered and jaws gaping in anticipation.

Move, Eli screamed in his head. Move, move, move, move!

The tyrannosaur’s powerful legs drove it to close the distance quickly. Its dripping maul filled Eli’s view. The rows of dagger-like teeth were less than ten feet from Eli when he broke the iron grip terror held on his muscles. Screaming at the top of his lungs he hurled the torso into the monster’s looming jaws and collapsed to his knees. With a loud snap the tyrannosaur’s jaws clamped shut, only a hand jutted out of the side of its mouth. It lifted its head up, the momentum carrying the beast forward. Eli held his makeshift cord in a death grip as one massive, taloned foot slammed down inches from where he crouched. The beast paused and lifted its head to gulp the torso down whole. Eli seized the opportunity to bolt back through the doorway into the casement.

The rider, thinking that his mount had swallowed Eli, scowled at him savagely as he darted out from under the tyrannosaur and pulled the reins hard to the right, bringing the beast around to bear on him as he slipped back into the casement. As the beast lunged forward to jam its head into the doorway again, the rider saw the cord trailing from Eli’s grasp, the glint of grenade pins bouncing on the end of it.

“Nein!” he screamed, struggling to free himself from the saddle as the tyrannosaur plunged into the tiny, cement doorway of the casement. Eli and Sgt. Lewis barely had time to roll around the corner of the hallway inside when the gullet of the beast erupted in a cloud of blood, fire and torn flesh. The force of the explosion resonated through the chamber, and Eli and Sgt. Lewis clamped their hands tight over their ears. With a ground shaking thud, the limp body of the tyrannosaur collapsed into the trench. The explosion had all but severed its head, only a thin strand of sinew where the front of its neck had been attached it to its charred shoulders.

The colossal head lay in front of the doorway. It slumped slightly to its side, jaws still open, and completely blocked the exit except for a small opening in the corner where a thin shaft of light beamed in. Eli slowly slid down the wall he had flattened himself up against and fought to control his pounding heart. He slowly became aware of a warmth running down his leg. Was I hit? His thoughts raced, imagining his legs drenched in warm, sticky blood from some grievous wound. He forced himself to look down at his legs and quickly snapped them shut in embarrassment. It wasn’t blood that soaked his pants, but his own urine. He forced himself to his feet and hoped Sgt. Lewis hadn’t noticed.

If he did, he didn’t have time to comment. As Eli rose loud, furious German swearing echoed through the gap between the severed head and the doorway. “Filsy Americans!” shouted a heavily accented voice through the opening. Eli stretched up to look through the hole and saw the tyrannosaur’s former rider standing outside.
He was dressed entirely in black, accentuating the deathly pallor of his skin. A short black hat sat askance atop his head, in the center of it gleamed a polished silver skull. His face was thin and jagged. Sharp cheek bones jutted out from a sunken, scowling mouth. Short-cropped flaxen blond hair framed the sides of his head. On his right collar two lightening bolts were stitched in silver, on his left a series of four small squares. The rider’s left hand was pressed tightly across his left eye. Blood was smeared over his hand and forehead and flowed freely from where he pressed it to his face. His remaining eye glared at Eli and Sgt. Lewis with a frigid hate that fit the icy blue of his iris. With his right hand he leveled his Walther P-38 at Eli’s head.

Sgt. Lewis jerked Eli from the opening just as the shot rang out. “Know zis, Americans…” the rider shouted, spitting the last word out like venom, “my nahme ist Heinrich von Schädel, Sturmbannführer. You have murdered meine little Liebchen. You vill pay for zis!”

Sgt. Lewis whipped his carbine up and stepped to the hole firing two quick shots, but von Schädel was gone. He swore under his breath. “A Sturmbannführer…” he said, “do you know what this means?”

Eli stared back at him blankly.

“You nearly just bagged a major in the SS.”

Eli still didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the accomplishment. He heard a strained and painful bellow through the casement opening overlooking the beach and ran over to look. The last tyrannosaur stumbled and collapsed to the surf heavily. Its carcass was riddled with bullet holes and the banners hanging from its sides were blood soaked and cut to tatters. Cheers rose from the soldiers on the beach as they started to recover the ground they had lost. The brief moment of triumph passed quickly, and the cheering gave way to panicked shouts as the squadron of pteranodon bombardiers swept back over the battlefield.

“We have to do something about those things,” Sgt. Lewis said as he stepped up to join Eli. He looked around the chamber they were in. The two MG42s were completely destroyed by the grenade he had cleared the room with. “You’re the paleontologist. What’s their weakness?”

Eli stared back at him dumbfounded. “Their weakness? I don’t know. All we’ve ever had to study are fossils and remains. How they got living dinosaurs…”

“It’s not our problem how they got them, it’s our problem how to kill them. You did great with that grenade thing, think!”

“I am, I am…” Eli closed his eyes in concentration. “Let’s see… they’re sticking together in a squadron. They have the bombs, but didn’t look like they had any other weapons. They fly out for a bombing run and then head back.” His eyes opened and he looked at Sgt. Lewis. “They must not have a very long range with all that weight. Otherwise they would give them more bombs to drop. If we catch them on their way back, they would have no way to return fire.”

Sgt. Lewis considered what he said for a moment. “Alright, the first thing is to get out of here then.” He peered out from the casement opening at the vertigo inducing drop to the beach below. That way was out of the question. He and Eli walked over to the massive head jammed into their only exit. Thick saliva still dripped from the teeth and mingled with the growing pool of blood seeping through the doorway. Both men leaned into the snout and pushed as hard as they could, their feet slipping on blood-slick concrete, but couldn’t make the gargantuan carcass budge.

Stepping back they surveyed the wall of flesh that confined them. There would be no moving it, their combined strength wasn’t even close to being enough to shift the jaws. They couldn’t slip through between the head and the door either, the beast had wedged itself in tight. The only opening was the one von Schädel had fired at them through, and it was barely enough to get an arm through. Eli sighed loudly as he realized there was only one way out.

Placing a hand on the creature’s snout, he leaned into the partially open mouth. Its scaled skin felt rough and leathery, with a faint diamond pattern pressed into it. In its throat, behind ragged and bloody folds of torn flesh, he could make out just a glint of sunlight. That was their way out.

“We have to crawl through the throat,” Eli said.

Sgt. Lewis took one last long pull on his cigarette then tossed it to the ground. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“The hole’s more than big enough, and we’re never going to move that thing. It’s our only option.”

Sgt. Lewis stared into bloody, dripping tunnel of flesh and teeth. “You’re going first.”

Eli gingerly stepped over the row of front teeth. His foot sunk into the soft gums next to the tongue, and he carefully ducked his head under the daggers hanging above him. The still-warm tongue was slick and bumpy under Eli’s hands as he crawled forward toward the back of the tyrannosaur’s throat. A warm, thick glob of saliva dripped onto the top of Eli’s head and he realized, as it slid down the back of his neck, that he had lost his helmet at some point during the fighting.

The thick stench of rotting meat rolled from the back of the monster’s throat making it hard to breathe. Eli wondered if the Nazis had fed it livestock, or men. His hand slipped off the slick tongue and fell down to the sharp teeth below. Expecting to feel a six inch long tooth impale his hand he flinched instinctively. Instead, his hand landed on something cool and soft. As his fingers curled around it, he realized Sgt. Lewis must have caught his fall. Eli turned around to thank him for holding his hand and realized he was still standing at the entrance to the mouth. A lump formed in his throat. He looked down to find his fingers curled around the hand of the man he had thrown to the beast. Leaning over the side of the tongue, Eli vomited.

“Ugh,” Sgt. Lewis groaned from past the curtain of teeth, “I shouldn’t’ve let you go first.”

His stomach now emptied, Eli pushed on and slid down the back of the muscular tongue. Pushing and groping through the curtains of flesh, most thick as a side of beef, he finally found a place where his hand pushed through and he felt a cool breeze on his blood-soaked hand. He grabbed hold of the slabs of charred meat at the edge of the hole blown in the tyrannosaur’s throat and pulled himself through. Gasping, he slid out onto the dirt of the trench. Climbing to his feet he peered back through the small gap. “Your turn.”

With a lot less vomiting and a lot more cursing, Sgt. Lewis followed suit and within a few minutes the two men stood in the trench alongside the carcass of the behemoth. Both men were completely drenched in blood, and a pool of it rose to their ankles. Sgt. Lewis struggled to light a bloody cigarette.

With the tyrannosaurs defeated, the battle had pushed its way up the paths to the top of the cliffs. Gunfire rattled from the trenches and casements. The German soldiers had taken back up the fight. Sgt. Lewis carefully lifted his head above the trench walls and scanned the area. The trench network ran on into the distance, dotted with bunkers and pillboxes. Ahead of them to the right was the two-story building that had housed the tyrannosaur and its rider. The inside of the building was bare looking. In the center of the room a steel chain as thick as a man lay coiled in a heap, one end affixed to the floor. Along the wall to the right of the door was an enormous pile of matted down straw. In the back corner, Sgt. Lewis could just barely make out what looked like gigantic piles of dung. It was evident they had housed the beast there for a while.

To his left, above the casements and bunkers, he could make out the tops of two more identical buildings, each one sitting at the top of a pathway up the cliff. A dark shadow passed over them and both men instinctively ducked, looking skyward. The pteranodon squadron flew overhead from the beach, returning to wherever they were resupplying with explosives. Sgt. Lewis tracked them as they went. They were headed toward to tall tower in the distance. It’s cement block walls rose sixty feet in the air, then broke into four pillars at the top, supporting large arched openings. Men waited on the platform inside the archways to resupply the beasts or take over for a fallen rider. As the pteranodons glided toward the tower, their shadows passed over something that made Sgt. Lewis smile.

Eli must’ve seen the same thing. “What about that big gun?” he asked.

“It’s an 88,” Sgt. Lewis explained, “they’re using it to shell the beach, but I think it’ll work.”

“I don’t see any other option,” Eli observed.

Sgt. Lewis nodded. Sloshing in the blood, they crept along the body in the trench, not daring to show themselves above it for too long. Sliding over the top of the tyrannosaur’s leg, they inched to the corner. Sgt. Lewis used his mirror to ensure it was clear around the corner, and they waved for Eli to follow. Moving as fast as they could while crouching, they advanced to the next corner. The artillery piece was only about fifty yards away in a straight line, but they couldn’t risk a dash on top of the trenches. They would have to snake their way to it. Sgt. Lewis’s mirror flashed in the sunlight as he checked the next corner. Six German soldiers stormed down the trench toward them.

Sgt. Lewis quickly slipped the mirror back into his pocket. Pulling his carbine up he whipped around the corner, keeping to a crouching position. Six shots rang off in quick succession and he lowered his weapon. Motioning for Eli to follow he slipped down the trench. Eli crept along after him, and found him inspecting the bodies of the soldiers. He pulled a short, black weapon from under one of the bodies and slipped the strap off its limp shoulders. “Give me your rifle,” he ordered.

Eli slipped his own strap off his shoulders and held the weapon out to him without question. Sgt. Lewis took it and handed him back the black German weapon. It was made of stamped metal, about two feet from barrel to end, with a long thin magazine clipped into the bottom. A thin metal stock folded back down over the body of the weapon. Eli slipped the trap of the firearm over his shoulders and hefted it in his hands. It was lighter than his rifle.

Sgt. Lewis slipped the strap of Eli’s rifle over his own head. “I’ve seen you shoot with this thing,” he said, patting Eli’s rifle. “I feel a lot better with you having that Schmeisser, it’s got a lot more bullets. You see a Kraut, you just point that down the trench at them and squeeze the trigger till it’s empty.” He paused and thought for a second. “Just make sure I’m out of the way first.”

They continued snaking along the trenches until they came to the last corner. Sgt. Lewis carefully slid his shaving mirror out to get a look. The 88 mm gun was draped loosely with a green cargo net, set up in a shallow open area dug in the trench network and walled with extra sandbags. Four men operated the weapon busily. One stood along the edge of the sandbags, binoculars pressed to his eyes surveying what he could see of the beach. He was shouting orders to the other three men. One sat with eyes pressed up against the targeting system attached to the gun, another spun wheels and cranks making adjustments to the aim as the man in the targeting unit barked directions. The fourth man scurried between a crate of shells and the gun. He slid a shell into the giant weapon and turned away, hands shooting up to cover his ears. A second later it fired, the blast shaking dust from the walls of the trenches. He immediately turned to retrieve another shell.

The dark shadows swept over Eli and Sgt. Lewis again. The squadron of pteranodons had resupplied and was gliding out over the beach to rain more fiery death on the soldiers fighting their way up the cliff. “Now’s our chance,” Sgt. Lewis said and rolled out around the corner dashing toward the 88. He lifted his carbine to his shoulder and opened fire. The man with the binoculars fell first, a red cloud erupting from his throat as he toppled backwards into the trench. The next shots found the chest of the man loading the gun and he crumpled over the case of shells.

The other two men ducked behind the artillery piece. Sgt. Lewis’s shots glanced off the metal of the gun as he rolled behind a stack of crates at the edge of the open area. The two German soldiers leaned out from behind the gun and fired at the crates and into the trench, one with a rifle and one with the same weapon Eli now held. Sgt. Lewis calmly reloaded his carbine and took a long draw on his cigarette. He flicked the butt casually over his shoulder at the artillery piece.

The German soldiers waited, their weapons trained on the crates. Eli was in shock, peering cautiously around the corner at the end of the trench. His mind raced for a way to help Sgt. Lewis. The soldiers at the 88 didn’t know he was there, but he didn’t want to risk firing the unfamiliar weapon with Sgt. Lewis between them.

Sgt. Lewis let his reloaded carbine hang from its strap and picked up Eli’s rifle. Without looking, he slid the rifle over his shoulder resting on the crates and began squeezing the trigger. The German soldiers ducked back behind the 88 as rifle bullets zipped past wildly. Sgt. Lewis didn’t seem to care where he was aiming, some rounds bounced off the gun, others missed the cover of the soldiers by almost ten feet. After the eighth shot, the empty clip was ejected with its distinct metallic ping and it bounced in the dirt of the trench.

The German soldiers heard the ping and shot each other a quick look. Realizing that he was out of ammo, they charged from their cover weapons raised. Sgt. Lewis tossed Eli’s empty rifle to the ground and rose, spinning around to bring the carbine to bear on the soldiers. They had only a second for their triumphant grins to widen in horror, then with two sharp cracks fell to the dirt dead.

Eli crawled from his hiding place at the corner and rushed to join Sgt. Lewis as he stepped up to the targeting piece. “Do you know how to use this thing?” Eli asked.
“Not a clue,” Sgt. Lewis replied, peering into the eyepiece. “Can’t be too hard though, right?”

In the distance the squadron of pteranodons was wheeling back around to return to the tower. They didn’t have much time. Sgt. Lewis abandoned the targeting piece and turned to the cranks. Wheeling one around the barrel of the gun began to lift. He turned the other and found it rotated the gun around its mountings. The sight apparatus was useless to him, they would just have to wing it. Looking out at the gliding monsters growing nearer, Sgt. Lewis looked down the long barrel and spun the two wheels until he was satisfied. “Slam the shell in when I tell you,” he ordered.

Eli shoved the body of the soldier off the shells and pulled one from the box. “Now!” Sgt. Lewis yelled and Eli slid the shell into the chamber. He turned away and covered his ears as he had seen the German do and the world shook as the 88 fired. Their first shot sailed just in front of the pteranodons. Their formation wavered, unsure of whether the close call was an accident on the part of the artillerymen or not. Sgt. Lewis adjusted the gun again and watched the approaching squadron as Eli readied another shell. “Now!” he shouted again.

Their second shot proved better than the first. The artillery shell made contact with the body of the pteranodon just to the left of the squadron leader. The shell tore through the tender flesh of the pteranodon and the man riding it and kept going, its target evidently too soft to detonate the shell. The mangled creature and rider tumbled out of the sky into a heap at the edge of the cliff. The squadron broke formation, now quite sure that this was no accident. Sgt. Lewis spun the wheels frantically as they approached, trying to line up another shot. On his command Eli slid another shell into the chamber, and a second pteranodon was torn in half, its maimed rider still clinging to its shoulders.

There was not time for another shot as the pteranodons soared overhead toward the tower. Sgt. Lewis seized the handle that rotated the 88 on its base and been cranking furiously. Slowly, the gun was brought around to bear on tower. He quickly adjusted the barrel to aim lower and they fired. The ground shuddered and a cloud of smoke blew over Eli and Sgt. Lewis as the shell sailed toward its target. Sgt. Lewis’s aim was off though, and the round drifted to the left of the tower exploding in the trees that backed it.

He was adjusting his aim as the pteranodons, resupplied with bombs, launched themselves one by one out of the arches of the tower and resumed formation heading directly at them. Raising the barrel to meet the oncoming bombers, they fired another shot. The rider in the line of fire saw it coming and pulled hard to the left but was too late. The shell shredded his mounts wing and the pteranodon flapped wildly as it steeply banked to the ground below. The artillery shell continued its course and struck the cement brick tower near its center, blasting an eight foot hole in its wall.

The pteranodons were closing on them too fast. “Move!” Sgt. Lewis shouted and darted toward one of the trenches leading away from the gun. Eli dropped the shell he had prepared in the dirt and dashed into the opening of an opposite trench as the riders released a hail of bombs above them. Eli dove into the dirt of the trench and covered his head as a succession of explosions made his stomach twist in knots. Dirt showered down on him and he could hear heavy chunks of steel landing in the dirt. He turned himself around to look at the artillery gun.

It lay in a twisted, smoldering pile. The remains of the crates of shells were scattered around the open section of the trench and large splinters of wood jutted from the surrounding sandbags. They had to find another way to fight back. Eli struggled to his feet and tried to peer through the smoking wreckage. Sgt. Lewis had gone down the trench on the opposite side of the gun, but Eli could see no sign of him. He looked back down the trench he had dove into. About ten feet ahead of him, three U.S. Soldiers lay dead in the dirt. As he looked at them one thing caught his eye. One of the soldiers was a combat engineer, and in his hand a tightly clutched satchel lay in a pool of blood.

Eli stumbled down the trench toward the bodies, his ears still ringing slightly from the explosions. As he stepped into the intersection of the trenches a flash of movement caught his eye to the right. Three German soldiers huddled against the tench walls. They looked up as surprised as Eli and began to raise their weapons. Without thinking Eli lifted the cold metal weapon hanging at his waist. Clinching his eyes shut tight he squeezed the trigger. The weapon jerked to life in his hands and he struggled to hold tight as fire leapt from the barrel. Within a few seconds the rattle of gunfire was replaced with a soft click. The smell of gunpowder burned Eli’s nostrils.

“Next time,” came a familiar voice from behind him, “you might want to keep your eyes open.”

Eli unclenched his eyes. The three German soldiers lay in a ragged, bloody mess in the trench ahead of him. The dirt and walls were sprayed with red and pockmarked with Eli’s wild spray of bullets. Eli shuddered. It was one thing to shoot at a monster, another thing to kill a man.

“We need to find another 88 before those things come back,” Sgt. Lewis said peering into his box of cigarettes. He tossed it aside with a sigh when he found it empty.

“We don’t have time,” Eli replied, prying the bloody satchel from the dead engineer’s hand. “Cover me.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Just cover me,” Eli called back, scrambling up the edge of the trench. What remained of the squadron of pteranodons was turning around over the beach and beginning to return. Eli flinched as a shot came uncomfortably close to his ear and heard Sgt. Lewis return fire with the rifle. He ignored it and ran forward to a low concrete bunker. Eli tossed the satchel up onto the concrete roof ahead of him and grabbed on to the rough edge. With a heave he pulled himself up on top of it and crawled to his feet. He started to raise the German weapon at the oncoming pteranodons, but realized he had only taken one magazine and let it drop. Instead, he picked the satchel up off the ground and began jumping up and down waving his arms.

“I’m over here!” Eli yelled at the top of his lungs. “Come get me!”

Sgt. Lewis glanced at him over his shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he shouted as Eli continued to flail around.

His display hadn’t gone unnoticed by the riders. The squad leader guided the squadron down towards Eli on the way back to the tower, drawing a pistol as he approached. Wait for it, Eli thought, wait for it… The rider’s pistol shots tore chunks of concrete out around Eli’s feet. Now! Eli opened the satchel and sparked the flash fuse inside. Holding the bag by the straps with both hands he twirled and flung it sideways like a hammer at the pteranodons. The satchel spiraled toward the lead pteranodon, the shoulder loop catching on the tip of the long crest that rose from the back of its head as they soared over Eli toward the damaged tower.

Eli turned to watch them return. The bag spiraled down around the pteranodon’s crest and tangled in the straps. The beasts rider struggled to free it as they approached the roost at the top of the tower. Understanding flashed in his eyes as he realized what was tangled around his mount. Frantically, he pulled a knife from his boot as his pteranodon glided to a landing in the tower but it was too late.

The satchel charge detonated. A cloud of smoke and fire billowed from the top of the tower. The pressure detonated the store of bombs readied for the harnesses and a series of smaller explosions echoed over the cliffs like firecrackers. Finally, the top of the tower supported by the arches crumbled and fell. The pteranodons were no more.


Continue to part three of the 50,000 word challenge.

Photo Credit: Dunechaser

50,000 Word Challenge: Part 1

US Army Fire Team by DuneChaser

This is the first part of my 50,000 words in 30 days challenge. It’s a completely unedited first draft written with the primary goal of getting out as many words as possible in a short time, so don’t expect too much from it. More parts will come each week as the challenge progresses.

Chapter 1: The Invasion

“I’m a paleontologist not a soldier!” Eli stuttered to the soldier next to him. The boat bounced through the surf, the salty mist making him shiver. “I shouldn’t be here!”

“Shouldn’t be here!?” the soldier shouted back, “I shouldn’t be here! I’m a dentist. At least I help people. No one’s going to miss a pale-whatever.”

Eli frowned. “A paleontologist!”

“A pale-whatever!”
Eli started to explain what a paleontologist does, but before he could the driver yelled from the back of the boat.

“Thirty seconds to landing!”
Eli tugged at the straps of his helmet. He was beginning to feel sick.

“Twenty seconds!”

The driver’s voice barely registered. I shouldn’t be here he thought, I should be in class right now. I should be home. Machine gun fire exploded above him.

“Ten seconds!”

Eli couldn’t breathe. The sharp pops of gunfire mixed with the deep thuds of artillery on the beach ahead.

“Five seconds!”

Eli’s knuckles turned white around his rifle. Get up the beach. Take the objective. Get up the beach. Take the objective. I wish I were back hom-


The soldiers lurched forward as the bottom of the transport dug into the sand. Eli felt himself move, as though his legs weren’t his own. The front of the boat unlatched and crashed down into the water and sand.

“Go!” The soldier in front took two steps down the ramp before gunfire raced up the lowered door. The bullets found his legs and tore up his torso. His shredded body tipped forward slowly, arm still outstretched, pointing to the beach he would never set foot on.

Time slowed for Eli. He watched the wave of death crawl up the boat toward him. The soldiers in front of him shoved forward attempting to get to the ramp. The dentist stepped on the lifeless back of the soldier in front of them, almost scrambling over the edge of the boat. He got one leg over the top before erupting in a cloud of crimson and tumbling into the water.

Eli was next. His legs were cement. Red fountains raced up the backs of the dead soldiers. He wouldn’t even make it off the boat.
He clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the bullets to end it.

Instead, the world exploded to his left.

Eli’s eyes snapped open. He only caught flickering images. Corpses floated in front of him. The boat hung over his head. The crackle of gunfire and rumble of shells had been replaced by silence broken only by a faint ring in the distance. Before he could make any sense of it, darkness swallowed him.

The dark was cold, but Eli welcomed it. At least it wasn’t painful to die he thought. The cold forced its way down his throat. It filled his lungs and pressed on his chest. He choked for air but there was none. His elbow sank into something firm, but yielding. There was something rough under his palm, like sand.

Like sand. I’m not dying! He kicked hard fighting to get traction. His equipment tugged at him like an anchor. He burst to the surface, gasping for air. The top of his head struck something solid.

Eli’s hands felt above him, tracing along cold metal. He could barely see shapes bobbing on the surface of the water around him. He realized that the giant object above him was the overturned boat.
When his eyes adjusted he squinted at the dark shapes bumping into him. Bile surged in Eli’s throat as they came into focus. They were body parts.

Fighting the urge to vomit, Eli clamped his eyes shut again. The ringing in his ears grudgingly receded and the sounds of the battle crept back. The metal above him shuddered as gunfire swept over his shelter.

Ok, Eli thought, I’m still alive, that’s something. What now? The dark blobs of dismembered bodies bobbed around him. He stared at the water. A familiar boom resounded to his right. The boat shook and water sloshed in his shelter. They’re still shelling the beach.

He had enough air to stay put for a while, maybe long enough for the battle to end. If a shell hits the boat, will it hold? How much of me will be left? He didn’t want to go home in a shoe box. I’d rather die on the beach. He gulped down the biggest breath he could and dove into the water.

The light filtering under the boat was like candlelight through a glass of red wine. Eli followed it between the boat and sand. His boat had landed right in the center of the beach. Dozens of other transport boats littered the beach disgorged of men. Most were intact, though a few were twisted and torn. The water was choked with bodies.

The sand was littered with steel hedgehogs and sloped out of the water leading to a low shingle. The shingle was lined with razor-wire and backed by a seawall. About two hundred yards behind it was a sheer cliff topped in sections with concrete casements. In several places the slope lessened so paths of sand and dirt could snake to the top.

Each casement was open in the front, and through the mist and smoke Eli could see machine guns raining lead onto the beach. Piles of sandbags filled the gaps between the casements. Hundreds of U.S. soldiers scrambled up the beach, returning fire and finding cover where they could. Ahead of Eli a steel hedgehog was nestled in the sand like a discarded jack. On it’s close edge was a deep crater.

That’s where he would go.

Gunfire swept the boat to his right as he dashed to the crater. His legs gave out and he rolled the last foot. Still gasping for breath, he took a second to survey his position.

He was still a long way from the shingle. The crater was deep enough to keep him below the gunfire, but a stray shell could still find him. He tore the plastic bag off his rifle and found it mercifully dry.

Another shell exploded and a rain of sand fell around Eli. The patter of falling sand was punctuated by a soft thump – the sound of a burnt and bloody hand landing to his left.

A louder, more solid explosion from towards the cliff shook Eli. Soldiers had detonated explosives, obliterating a large swath of the razor-wire and tearing a hole in the seawall. Men were pouring in through the breach while others provided covering fire.

Eli sprinted toward the shingle. He fired his rifle wildly in the direction of the cliffs as he ran. The German soldiers didn’t seem to notice. Seeing an opening, he dove and rolled into another crater.
When he pushed himself up into a crouching position and realized he wasn’t alone.

Another soldier sat across from him resting his back against the edge of the crater. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow exposing the dark skin of his forearms. He lowered the cigarette from his mouth and looked at Eli.

“You’re in my hole.” he said. He took another slow draw on his cigarette.

“You’re a medic, aren’t you?” Eli managed to stammer.

The man looked down at his chest where a large red cross was printed on a white square.

“No. I just figured it’d make it easier for the Krauts if I came with a bullseye on my chest.”

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you fighting?”

“I’m taking a smoke break,” he said.

“You’re what?”

“I’m taking a smoke break,” he repeated.

The ground shuddered as another shell fell uncomfortably close to the crater.

Eli glanced at the name on the man’s uniform. “Look Mr. Lewis-”

“That’s Sergeant Lewis.”

“Fine, Sergeant Lewis. We have to move. If one of those shells lands here…”

Sgt. Lewis nodded. “There wouldn’t be much of us left.”

Eli crawled his way up to the edge of the crater. His eyes just cleared the edge when a bullet zipped past his ear. Another struck only inches in front of him, spraying sand in his eyes.

“There’s three up there, behind some sandbags,” Sgt. Lewis said.

“Maybe four. They’ve had a bead on me since before you blundered in. I think they get a kick out of popping medics.” He took another long drag off of his cigarette, then tossed the smoldering butt from the crater. “I can’t get near them with my carbine. I wasn’t about to make a dash for it, so I figured I might as well have a smoke.”

“Where are they?” Eli asked.

Sgt. Lewis gestured to crawl over and sit with his back against the sloped wall of the depression. He pulled out a small shaving mirror and angled to show the top of the cliff. Eli could just make out four men hunched over the top of a section of sandbags, their rifles were trained on the hole he and Sgt. Lewis were in.

Taking a deep breath Eli crawled as close as he dared to the edge. Shots tore deep rivets in the sand around Eli. He pressed his cheek to the rifle and peered down the sights.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Ping!

The empty cartridge flew from the rifle. Eli slid back into the hole to reload, but his hands were shaking too much. Sgt. Lewis lowered his mirror, smoke curling around his head.

“Well, how did I do?”

“You missed. By a lot too. I can’t tell but I think they’re laughing at you.”

Eli fumbled around in his uniform for that new cartridge. This time he was able to get ahold of it and slid it into the rifle with a click. Sgt. Lewis looked him up and down and sighed, twin streams of smoke billowing from his nostrils.

“Don’t waste your ammo,” he said. “Hold these and give me that.” He tossed the mirror into the sand and handed him his cigarette before snatching Eli’s rifle. He made sure the cartridge was in place, then crawled to the edge. Eli grabbed the small mirror from the sand and held it up to see the soldiers.

Sgt. Lewis took a deep breath and held it. Four sharp cracks sounded from the rifle and he let his breath back out. Eli’s mouth dropped.

So did the mirror. All four soldiers had fallen.

“Here.” Sgt. Lewis slid down and tossed the rifle back. “Now give me back my smoke.” He scooped the mirror from the sand where Eli had dropped it. “You’re an awful shot.”

“I’m a paleontologist.” Eli stuttered for the second time that day.

“Well, thanks for bringing the rifle…” Sgt. Lewis squinted at the name on Eli’s uniform. “…Watts.” He grabbed his carbine and crawled to the edge.

“Call me Eli.”

Sgt. Lewis paused at the lip of the crater.


He dashed toward the shingle, sprinted over the sand and rocks and pressed his back against the seawall. Eli couldn’t help but feel a little inadequate. If he was going to stand any chance of seeing tomorrow it wasn’t going to be on his own merit. His best chance for survival was against that wall.

Eli forced down the knot in his throat and bolted after Sgt. Lewis. A shell exploded to his left. Too close. He heard someone screaming. He glanced where the shell had landed but didn’t see anyone so he kept running. Sgt. Lewis watched his dash, not trying to hide his look of disgust. Eli reached the wall and Sgt. Lewis clapped a hand over his mouth. He realized it had been him screaming the whole time.

Sgt. Lewis let go when he stopped screaming. Before Eli could catch his breath, Sgt. Lewis slipped through the hole in the wall. Eli stumbled in after him.

“Wait,” he choked out. Sgt. Lewis ignored him. The cliff loomed to the left, topped by one of the casements. Ahead of them soldiers were pushing up one of the steep paths that wound to the top. They were making good progress, using the sandbags and pillboxes the Germans had set up as cover.

A shadow passed over the squad as they fired from the cover of a pillbox near the top. A small dark object dropped into the middle of them and exploded ripping limb from limb and stripping flesh from bone. Sgt. Lewis froze. Eli caught up to him. The shadow that passed over the soldiers was now gliding down the path toward them.

Sgt. Lewis swore quietly. “What is that?”

Eli followed his gaze skyward. When he saw what Sgt. Lewis was looking at, the blood drained from his face.

A giant creature soared in the air above them. It was a dark, mottled brown. From wingtip to wingtip it easily stretched over twenty feet, though its frame didn’t look to be much bigger than a man’s. The beast had no feathers, but its body almost looked fuzzy like it was covered in tiny hairs. Sunlight diffused faintly through the thin, stretched membranes it glided on. It tilted the long beak of its crested head toward them. It wore a harness holding more of the small round bombs that had killed the soldiers on the path. Eli thought he could see the outline of a man on its back.

“Pteranodon longiceps…” He whispered.

Sgt. Lewis refused to take his eyes off it.

“Speak English.”

Eli responded quietly.

“It’s a dinosaur.”


Continue to part two of the 50,000 word challenge.

Photo Credit: Dunechaser

NaNoWriMo Challenge: Write a 50,000 Word Novel in 30 Days

Remington by Mark Grapengater

Doing it all on a typewriter will not be part of the challenge

I realized today that it’s been a long time since I’ve tried to take on any challenges. It’s time that changed.

I have always been a voracious reader. When I walked into a library or bookstore as a kid I started drooling like a 400 pound man in a Golden Corral. By the time I was around 6 years old I had devoured every single book my parents had given me and Mom was forced to surrender her sizable Stephen King collection – by 7 I’d finished them all.

I remember the very first book report I ever delivered in school. The kid before me had just rocked his presentation of Green Eggs and Ham. As he passed me on the way to his seat he allowed himself a smug little smirk in my direction – he knew that’d be a tough act to follow.

I gathered my things and strolled to the front of the room. Turning to the class I unveiled my visual aid with a flourish, a posterboard Crayola marker drawing of a viking beheading a cannibal in battle. Eyes visibly widened as they took it in. I quietly cleared my throat.

“My book report will be on Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crighton,” I explained.

The look on the teacher’s face was fantastic.

However, I digress, the point is I really love to read. Bound to my love of reading is an equally strong love of writing.

The writing process has always fascinated me. Fiction writing in particular. The ability of someone to tell a truly riveting story, to shape genuinely human feeling characters and to carry an enthralling narrative to a neatly bound conclusion has always captivated me.

Good or bad, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.

Enter NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. In essence, it’s a yearly “contest” where people sign up and try to write a full 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

Now, the idea here isn’t to pump out a ready-to-publish novel in 30 days. First of all 50,000 words, while definitely within the bounds of what constitutes a novel, is really a pretty small novel. Maybe two Goosebumps books put together or so – about 200 pages depending on your formatting. Second of all, first drafts don’t get published – they get edited. And edited. And edited some more. Then, when you think you’re ready to go, they get edited. The goal here isn’t for everyone to just rock out fantastic books in under a month.

So what is the point? There are a few of them. The first is to get people who have always wanted to try to write a novel to step up and actually give it a shot. Having a 50,000 words written in one month framework helps people who have been toying with the idea of writing but who don’t know where to start a clearly defined path to follow (not to mention the giant community of supporters the site provides).

The second goal, one not necessarily stated, is to help people develop a little discipline. If you want to cross that finish line of 50,000 words, than you need to write around 1,667 words per day. Miss a day, and that means you have that much more to make up. Tackling this challenge helps teach people to sit down and commit a minimum amount of effort toward a goal every single day, without fail. I think that’s a much more valuable lesson than proving that everyone can write a novel if they want to.

My Personal Challenge

Remember how I mentioned I’d been thinking it’s been a while since our last challenge? Well, lucky me, NaNoWriMo will be held in November this year – and I’m doing it.

To make it a little more interesting, I’m going to let everyone here on Road to Epic follow along. Each week I’ll be posting that weeks worth of my writing. Now, don’t expect this to be refined, eloquent prose – you’re getting the raw, unedited first draft stuff. It probably won’t be pretty, but that’s alright. I’m also going to share my NaNoWriMo profile so anyone who wants to can follow along there.

That’s not all, I’m also going to commit myself personally to 60,000 words in those 30 days. 50,000 just isn’t quite enough in my opinion, I think I can do more.

The one caveat is, I’m not going to guarantee by the time I hit my 60,000 words and 30 days that my novel will be finished. I’m not sure how long I’m going to need to tell the story I want to tell, so if I need 70,000 or 100,000 words to do it that’s how many I’ll write. The first 60,000 of them however will be written between November 1st and November 30th.

Anyone done NaNoWriMo in the past? What do you think about the whole idea? Have any good story ideas you don’t want? Share in the comments!

Update: I’m finished! I managed to meet my 60,000 words plus a little extra – more coming on what I’ve learned from the whole experience soon. In the meantime, here are links to each update I’ve posted of what I wrote:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Photo Credit: Mark Grapengater

The One Reason People Fail at Developing Good Habits and How to Avoid It

As complicated as... by Aunullah

Developing good habits is easy... if you can avoid making it complicated.

Developing a new habit is difficult.

Okay, so that’s not entirely true. Let me rephrase that a bit. Developing a good habit is difficult.

It’s easy to develop bad habits. We do it all the time. People get in the habit of hitting the snooze on their alarm clock and curling back into oblivion. They get in the habit of spending their evenings mesmerized by a flickering television while mindlessly cramming snacks into their faces. They don’t usually get in the habit of eating healthy, working out, or spending a little time everyday learning something new.

Why is that? Let’s take a look.

Why People Fail

Developing good habits is fundamentally different from developing bad habits. The reason developing bad habits is so easy is because it’s almost always something part of us wants to do deep down. Not in the way that we want a goal, but in the way that we naturally always want to take the path of least resistance.

The same just isn’t true of good habits. Good habits are almost always something that we want to do because we know it’s good for us, but deep down don’t want to do because it involves work, difficulty, sacrifice or a break in our usual routine. No matter how much you gear yourself up and tell yourself that you really want to go workout first thing in the morning, by the time your feet hit the floor in the morning all you’re going to remember is your driving need for coffee.

Now, there are ways to get around our limited supply of willpower and make the habit stick. The thing is, just about everyone I’ve talked to who have tried it and failed had one single thing in common. They made the same mistake I did at first – too much enthusiasm.

Rewind a little bit to when I was first trying to take control of my life and start taking things in the direction I wanted them to go. Caroline and I decided that we were going to make some serious changes. We wanted to learn instruments, we wanted to learn languages, we wanted to write lots of articles, we wanted to practice our martial arts, we wanted to get in shape, we wanted to eat right, we wanted start businesses… oh, yeah, and we were still in college.

I remember one of the schedules we concocted in our fervor had every single minute of the day blocked out with a different prescribed activity. Literally zero free time.

I think it goes without saying that we failed, and we failed hard.

I don’t think we managed to stick to our ridiculous schedules for longer than one full week. Honestly, I’m impressed with myself for even completing one week.

There was just way, way too much stuff to handle all at once. There was no way we were ever going to manage that schedule long enough for any of those things to develop into habits because it was just too overwhelming. It seems really obvious to me know, and yet I still constantly see people making the same mistake I made without ever realizing it.

Developing a good habit is difficult. It just doesn’t make sense to try to developing 10 good habits all at once, but people still do it all the time! Then they get frustrated because they failed and wind up giving up until enough fire builds in them again and they make another futile attempt to will themselves into starting 10 new habits at once. It just doesn’t work.

How to Succeed

We may have failed back then at developing all those habits, but since then we’ve managed to pick up a lot of those habits successfully. What was the difference? Taking our time.

Rather than try to force ourselves to do everything all at once, we took it slowly. Ridiculous schedules were thrown out of the window – instead one item at a time got picked to be slowly developed into a habit. We would move onto the next item only after the first had been pretty well entrenched as a new habit.

It was very, very slow; but it worked. We started with working out. A time was chosen three times per week and we focused all the energy we’d formerly spread around all our other activities into just being absolutely sure that we managed to work out three times a week. It felt pretty good to make it a complete week without missing a single workout. It felt awesome to make it three weeks without missing one. By the end of two months of never missing a workout, we were elated.

By that point it had become automatic – exactly what we were going for. The key is to remember to not get too crazy with it. I know it’s hard, I really do. If you’re anything like me, when you decide you really want to do something you go all out. Fight the urge to spread yourself too thin and focus all that energy onto one single task.

Promise yourself that you are not going to worry about any of the other things, and all you want to do is stick to this one thing. To own it. Tell yourself that you are going to absolutely dominate this one thing. Then, and this is actually a pretty important part, actually go out and do it.

The best part is, you don’t even have to think of it as focusing on developing a new habit. Just focus on doing it when you said you would, on being there, and after a little while you’ll find you don’t have to force yourself. You’ll realize you don’t have to think about it anymore, that you just feel like doing it – you’ll realize you’ve developed a new habit.

What do you think? Ever had success trying to develop a bunch of new habits at once? Have something else you think should be added? Let us know in the comments!

Photo Credit: Aunullah

Lessons from the Master: A Finger Pointing at the Moon

Hello Moon by Stephen Poff

Don't miss all that heavenly glory.

“Don’t think. Feel. It is like a finger pointing out to the Moon, don’t concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.” – Bruce Lee

It might surprise some to learn that, in addition to arguably being the greatest martial artist that ever lived, Bruce Lee was a philosophy major. His writings, heavily reflecting both his love of martial arts and his love of philosophy, are widely regarded as some of the best on martial philosophy. However, for some reason people often fail to see the applications outside of martial arts.

Take the quote above for example. Lee often expressed that his study of martial arts was the best method of self-expression he could find for himself. His martial arts were not an end in and of themselves, but rather a path to self-knowledge. The finger pointing at the Moon was study of the martial arts itself – if you focus only on the study of martial arts you miss the ‘heavenly glory’ of self-knowledge.

On a slightly more shallow level, this quote expresses another truth about martial arts training. Many people who study a martial art get hung up on whether or not their style or their training method is the best it possibly can be. People argue over whether to do kata or sparring, if traditional arts are better than contemporary arts, if hard styles or soft styles are better and on and on when really – none of this matters.

True proficiency in the martial arts comes when you have gotten beyond the training and can ‘feel’ what you need to do intuitively. When muscle memory takes over and, rather than thinking, you just react; then you are a proficient martial artist. People who focus too much on analyzing the training miss out on the true goal of being able to blend elements of the art together in new ways without needing to think about it.

So what other areas of life can we apply this to?

Language Learning

If there is one area where people most seem to completely miss the Moon for their focus on the finger, it’s in the area of language learning. People go crazy about figuring out which method is the best to learn a new language. They try local courses, Pimsleur, Rosetta Stone, online programs and everything else they can. As much money and time as they spend focusing on finding the perfect learning method, they never realize that studying a language isn’t the answer and that you can learn it all for free.

When people start getting too obsessed over the method, they completely lose track of what their goal was in the first place. In the end, all language learning methods are fine as long as they get you where you want to go. Personally I’m a big advocate of learning through immersion and speaking from day one, but if you find a way that works for you that is entirely contrary to everything I suggest – awesome! What matters is that you reach your goal, not how you reach it. Don’t concentrate so much on the method that you miss out on your goal.

Entrepreneurship / Business

I know that most of the people who are interested in living the kind of life Caroline and I are working towards tend, like Caroline and myself, to feel a very strong proclivity toward entrepreneurship.

It makes sense, particularly given that owning your own business and being able to make a living without being tied to one particular location is a huge asset in really being free to live how you want. The problem is, entrepreneurship can be really complicated. Do I start a blog? Do I develop a product? Do I try to make my living off of affiliate links or advertisements? How do I handle all this social media stuff?

Most people, when faced with a complicated situation, turn to the experts for advice. This is where a lot of people can get into trouble though. Not because the experts give bad advice, the majority of the real experts give fantastic advice. The problem is that the prospective entrepreneurs fall victim to paralysis by analysis and information overload. They get so hung up on optimizing minutia like post timing and Twitter strategy, that they lose sight of what they were trying to do in the first place.

If your goal is to build a fantastic blog then worry about creating awesome, useful content before you worry about your social media strategy. If your goal is to sell a new product, make sure you’ve created an incredible product and are connecting with your customers before you worry about tweaking every little bit of your sales pitch.

General Self-Improvement

By now you should be seeing a bit of a pattern. When people set out to do something, it’s an extremely common mistake to focus on the method more than the goal.

Once you’ve realized this tendency you can check yourself in any endeavor you take to improve yourself. Whether it’s learning a new skill like swimming, or working towards your dream of traveling the world. Nothing worth doing is ever easy, and there are always systems and methods to help you do those things. Always remember though that those systems and methods are just fingers pointing to the Moon, if you concentrate on them too much you’ll never realize your true goal.

Do you have any other specific areas where you’ve found you or others tend to focus too much on the finger? How did you get past that tendency? Share with us in the comments!

Photo Credit: Stephen Poff

My Goals for This Year – A Piece of My Annual Review

Goal Setting by AngieTorres

It's important to have yearly goals to work toward.

Every year Caroline and I have an annual review. (Well, actually twice a year but we’ll get to that in a second.) First, if you don’t know what an annual review is, then please go read ‘How to Conduct your Own Annual Review’ by Chris over at The Art of Non-Conformity. Honestly, even if you’re familiar with annual reviews, go read the article again first – it’s one of the most useful posts on Chris’s site and considering the quality of the rest of his stuff that’s high praise. Really, go read it. I’ll wait.

All done? Cool.

So where do we come back in? Well, Caroline and I do things a little bit differently. Due to all the holidays, and a small horde of binding familial obligations encircling the New Year, I’ve found it’s just not practical to conduct our big annual reviews at the end of the year.

On top of that, while I like Chris’s structure of one big review at the end of the year and quarterly reviews at each season, I see my year beginning on my birthday. I first started circling the Sun on August 6th, 1987 – so that’s when I figure my years should begin.

Of course, the concept of a year is largely an arbitrary thing, blah blah blah, subjectivity, human perception of time, I know. Like I said, the main reason is because I like to take my time on my annual reviews and that’s extra difficult around the New Year. I also feel like saying ‘I will accomplish [blank] before next year’ sounds like a doomed-from-the-start resolution, whereas ‘I will accomplish [blank] before I turn [age]’ sounds like a firm commitment. Maybe it’s just me.

Anyway. So far, we’ve mostly just gotten the past year’s successes and shortcomings mapped out as well as a general outline of our goals for the coming year. I won’t subject anyone to our full annual review, unless people really want to see it, but since this blog is as much about accountability on our part as it is about helping others live out their dreams I am going to post my goals here for everyone to see, divided into general categories.

This Year’s Goals

This list may change as the year goes on, and I’m not going to post the full list, just the highlights. With that in mind, here’s what I’ve got planned so far for what I’ll accomplish before I turn 25.

Road to Epic Goals

  • Reach 4,000 unique visits per month.
  • Stick to our Tuesday/Thursday post schedule for the entire year.
  • Write at least one guest post for another blogger per month.
  • Complete and implement a custom theme for the site.
  • Finish at least three of the RtE side projects I’m considering.

Health/Fitness Goals

  • Have my bodyfat percentage tested by a reputable facility (BodPod etc.)
  • Learn to complete 5 free-standing handstand pushups.
  • Learn to deadlift at least 350 lbs.
  • Run a mile in under 5 minutes.
  • Complete one marathon.
  • Attend a Crossfit gym for at least one month.

Travel Goals

  • Spend time in at least 4 different countries before next year.
  • Return to China and Korea.
  • Spend at least two weeks in Japan, preferably one month.
  • Attend the Wik Family Reunion in Chicago.

Language Goals

  • Have at least one conversation with a native speaker per week in Korean and Japanese.
  • Finish reading the first Harry Potter book entirely in Japanese.
  • Read one entire book in Korean.
  • Re-Learn Mandarin Chinese to fluency in 6 months.
  • Learn 1,000 Mandarin Chinese words in 30 days.
  • Make a short video in either Japanese or Korean.

Financial Goals

  • Earn at least $4,000 per month off of our own projects.
  • Completely pay off our debt (minus our mortgage) which currently amounts to around $9,000.
  • Find and explore at least two new sources of income.
  • Sell at least 30 unnecessary possessions.
  • Secure an investor for one of our non-blog side projects.

Miscellaneous Goals

  • Write an entire novel in 30 days.
  • Film a Parkour video.
  • Construct a set of Sasuke/Ninja Warrior training equipment.
  • Rejoin a martial arts school.

There you have it. That’s most of what I have so far set to accomplish before my next birthday.

While it’s probably not your birthday, what are some of your goals for this year? Have you given it any thought? Share some in the comments!

Be Unreasonable: Live Life On Your Own Terms

Untitled by кофе

Dare to be unreasonable. Dare to pursue your dreams and goals!

What’s keeping you from pursuing your goals or dreams?

It’s a simple question that easily sparks the most knee-jerk angry replies. A lot of people try to reason it away with things like:

“Let’s be realistic, there’s no way I’ll ever do X”
“I can’t do X because I’ve not got the time or money – who does?!”

For lots of people, that is the reality they have created within their heads. They’ve conditioned themselves to an unsatisfactory life, one that will inevitably lead to either the deferment of happiness or worse, unhappiness for their entire lives.

Some people do have honest, good reasons as to why they cannot do whatever it is they want to be doing, whether it be losing weight, travel, or living debt free. However, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the number of people who have real reasons, and not just excuses, as to why they cannot pursue their goals/dreams is probably in the 1-5% of society range.

For many, it’s that they honestly have a lot of self-imposed (or society-imposed) limits and beliefs on how life should be lived.

The cold, hard truth of reality is something we’re conditioned to as citizens starting in childhood. Say, you want to explore the hidden catacombs underneath Paris or something else. You’ll soon be corrected, with “Cut it out. Be realistic and get some safe 9-to-5 and make a decent living.”

At any point in life, if you dare to stray outside the societal norms and do your own thing, people will try to be the “reasonable voice” in your life and keep you from achieving the things you want to do in your life. Dare to be unreasonable.

Others, they have simply chosen to spend their money on other things – like cars, every television station known to man combined with a gigantic HDTV, etc. going into debt for various luxuries.

I’m sure there’s lots of other reasons out there… But, here’s the good news: you can change it! There’s nothing forcing you to live a deferred lifestyle, except you.

The rules of life can be broken, all it takes is changing your perspective.

Take a good hard look at your life and consider what it is you want out of it, and consider what it is that will give you long-lasting happiness? What are your priorities? If you could do anything, be anything, or have anything, what would it be? What are the true costs of those things? If you don’t know, look them up.

The next step, is to figure out what it’s going to take to get there. Plan out what you’d have to do to achieve it. I guarantee you that as you continue this process, those crazy ideas look less and less crazy.

You might need to earn more

There’s lots of ways to earn more. You can start a business or maybe freelancing in your spare time.

Earning more can be difficult – so don’t quit your day job just yet. Find what suits you and your ideal lifestyle first and slowly build it in your free time. Test various aspects of it to optimize earnings to fill the gaps in your income. With dedication and hard work, it’s entirely possible to earn everything you need to live on your own without the help of a “real job.”

Surround yourself with a support team

There’s lots of naysayers out there that will tell you it’s not possible, and try to bring you down. Forget about them! Start a blog, join a local meet up of other like-minded people, whatever you need to do to find people who support you and have higher visions for their own lives, do it.

Have Courage

It takes a lot of guts to go against societal norms. It takes a lot just to look in the mirror and say “let’s do this!” If you’ve got a good plan then there wont be any ambiguity as far as what you need to do. Combine that with the right support team to cheer you on and the dedication to living life on your terms, and you can be an unstoppable machine.

Expect and embrace failures

Failure happens to everyone sooner or later. Some fail more than others. Accept and embrace it. Failures exist so we can learn what doesn’t work and to give us even more reason to succeed. Any more words on failure?

Handy Resources

Here’s two really great resources from two people I highly admire and respect. These are great tools to help get you started in planning your goals and ideal lifestyle, and to help execute them.

Chris Guillebeau’s Annual Review: Chris’ Annual Reviews are an awesome way to create goals and plan out how you’re going to achieve them – as well as aid you in keeping on track.
Link: http://chrisguillebeau.com/3×5/how-to-conduct-your-own-annual-review/

Tim Ferriss’ Dreamline Worksheet: Create a “dreamline” to determine the characteristics and costs of your ideal lifestyle. List up to five things you dream of having, being and doing. This worksheet will help you calculate your ideal target monthly and target daily income. Chances are, it’s less than you think. Even if it does cost more than you currently earn, there are many ways (and many people!) for everyone to bridge that gap.
Link: http://www.technotheory.com/download/DreamlineWorksheet2.0.xls

You’ve got a limited time on Earth, and time is running out. Relentlessly pursue your goals and ideal lifestyle while you still can!

How To Make Progress Without Even Really Trying

Path of Least Resistance by Billtacular

It's all about finding the path of least resistance.

Every living thing on Earth is really, really lazy – and you and I are no exception. There’s a good reason for it too, food and water can be hard to come by for species without supermarkets. Even we had to be concerned about finding enough food before about 10,000 years ago. Several billions of years of punishing any and all inefficiency shaped pretty much all life into remarkably efficient things and have hardcoded one basic tenet into all organisms – take the path of least resistance.

When you have limited amounts of energy to expend it just makes sense. If you burn up more energy to catch dinner than you take in by eating it, you’re just not going to last very long. Taking the path of least resistance meant using the least amount of energy necessary to achieve your goals. In the past, that meant effiency. Efficiency meant survival. Everything worked great.

Fast forward to now. Once we came up with agriculture, we set in motion the outsourcing of all our efficiency problems to technology. We don’t have to chase down a rabbit to get enough calories to keep our body working, or wrestle an elk to the ground to feed our family. We walk to the fridge, open it, and can eat more food in a sitting than our ancestors got in a week.

We just don’t have to worry about being efficient anymore, in fact, technology has made our lives so comfortable we have to purposefully do things that are inefficient from a survival standpoint to not get fat. If you tried to articulate to a person from 50,000 years ago that you go out and run around because you get too many calories each day then you better be wearing a poncho because their heads would probably explode with how ridiculous that is.

Times may have changed, but we haven’t – 10,000 years is a blink on the evolutionary scale. Less than a blink, really. If all of human history were one 24 hour period, agriculture would be discovered around 11:58 at night. We are still the same as our ancestors were back when dinner meant killing something twice your size and exercise meant keeping out of a Smilodon’s stomach.

That means that the proclivity for taking the path of least resistance is still alive and well within us. The problem is, it’s just not necessary anymore. It used to be the key to survival, now technology is. Embittered by its obsoleteness, that drive to take the path of least resistance now chooses to manifest itself as an affliction endemic to modern life, motivation-sapping laziness.

You know the feeling. You should go work out, but you really just don’t feel like it. You need to clean up your desk, reoganize your office, and tackle that stack of papers, but you can just worry about it later. You could be learning a new language, practicing Parkour, or working on starting your own business – but that’s hard, and improving your life can wait, you’re almost to the part where you fight Ganondorf.

So How Do You Fix It?

Good question. Thankfully, it’s easy to do. Even better, you won’t just be fixing the problem, you’ll be using the problem against itself to achieve your goals even faster. That’s a personal-development irimi-nage right there.

Step one is to identify and understand the problem itself. Here it is, you have a natural inclination chiseled into your brain to always favor the path of least resistance. That path tends to be the lazy one that leads you away from your goals and toward self-destructive, time-wasting activities.

Step two is to determine what about the problem we can change to remedy it, and the best way to make those changes. Now, some people might jump to the willpower fix. Sure, it may be easy to say, “Well, I’ll just fight it. Tough it out! I can make myself be productive!”

That may work for a bit, but there’s two problems. The first is, you have a finite amount of willpower. Eventually, it’s going to run out and you’ll be right back where you started. That’s just not sustainable. Secondly, you’re talking about fighting your very nature, here. There are some battles you should just avoid in the first place and fighting your base instincts like that is one of them.

So what can we change then? Look at things a slightly different way. The problem isn’t that you have a tendency to take the path of least resistance. The problem lies in where you wind up when you take that path. So what would happen if you redirected things and >made the path of least resistance go to where you wanted to wind up?

Rather than be naturally inclined to do things that work against you, you’d be inclined to do things that further your goals. That means you can get more productive things done without even really trying.

Step three is all about implementing it. This may take some creativity, but it’s usually not too difficult. Determine what things you can change (they’re usually little things) that will make it easier for you to do what you need to do than to do something that wastes time. It doesn’t just have to go one way either, like Caroline mentioned when she wrote about barriers, you can do the opposite and make it extra hard to engage in negative behaviors.

When you start putting these techniques into proactice, you’ll find yourself doing the things you need to be doing without even thinking about it. Before too long, you’ll find yourself progressing towards your goals without having to put in any extra effort.

I prefer ‘show’ over ‘tell’, so let’s look at some examples.

  • Pre-Arrange Your Workout – Have trouble going out in the morning for sprint training, heading down to the gym or going downstairs for a bodyweight strength training session? Get everything ready the night before. Lay out your gym clothes wherever you normally get dressed in the morning, have your shoes and your keys next to them ready to go if necessary. That way there’s no excuse not to get right in your exercise clothes and get started.
  • Freeze Your Credit Card – This is a really old one, but it’s still an excellent example. If you have issues controlling yourself when it comes to using the credit cards, drop it in a container of water and freeze it. That way, it’s a serious pain to pull it out and use it and you’ll only do it if you really need to.

  • Clean Your Fridge – Anyone who’s tried to lose weight knows struggling with temptation is brutal. So, why even let yourself be tempted? Donate all your junk food to people who can’t afford food in the first place, and stock your fridge and pantry with good, primal foods. That way, when you get hungry and go digging through the fridge, you only have good options. If you want to eat garbage, you’re going to have to go out of your way to do it and, chances are, you just won’t bother.

All these are just the obvious examples. If you’re creative, you can find tons of ways to make doing what you need to do easier, and doing what you shouldn’t be doing harder. If you’ve had any success with this, let us know how you did it! The options really are endless.