“Where is Fakar?” queried Khadora.

Omung turned and signaled to the men carrying the body and they began to approach the brothers. Khadora felt a shiver course through his body as he realized his suspicions were correct.

“You were just supposed to probe their defenses while I gathered the rest of the force,” growled Khador.

“That is all we were doing,” spat Omung. “We saw no defenses at all. Then it happened. They were everywhere at once. We never heard them. Never saw them.”

Omung was visibly shaking and Khador turned as the bearers lowered Fakar’s body to the ground. He stooped next to his dead brother and unwrapped the blanket covering him. Khador gasped as he viewed the body. Fakar’s uniform was shredded and his body was covered with tears and open wounds. The skin had a pale bluish tint, but what made Khador gasp was Fakar’s face. The face was a mask of terror, eyes wider than should be possible, nostrils dilated to the maximum, and a mouth wide open as if in the middle of a scream for life. He quickly covered the body and rose to find Omung staring at him.

“What did this?” questioned Khador.

“I don’t know,” conceded Omung, his head hung low. “They are not human, these things we fight. They look human, but they are not. The ones who look human attacked us with the rest of the animals. Everything that lives in the jungle turned on us at the same time. One of my men found Fakar already dead. He grabbed the body and ran like the rest of us.”

“Well then we shall wipe out the animals with the rest,” scowled Khador. “Tomorrow we will destroy every living thing in that jungle.”

“No!” Omung nearly shouted, raising his head until his eyes locked with Khador’s.

The fear was evident on Omung’s face and Khador spat on the ground in disgust. “You know the directive,” stated Khador. “All indigenous humans must be killed. This must be done for us to survive.”