“Damn,” Knox muttered. “I wonder if there is a spirit passing through us.”

  “Don’t go saying that shit in the woods, man, my grandpa used to tell me stories about the magic of the woods, crazy monsters, and speaking things into existence,” Rook replied. “I wish we had brought sniffle gear if I knew there would be cold air whippin’ around us.”

  The cold air bit through his OCPs, sending a shiver up his sweat-slick back. Rook peered out into the gloom; the forest itself, without Night Vision Goggles, was just plain creepy. Worse now that the noise has stopped. Is there a bear or something nearby?

  “Do you guys miss the insects as much as I do right now?” Rook asked, looking around. “It’s definitely strange, right now the forest should be buzzing, chittering, and chirping,”

  Knox cleared his throat. “Sarnt, I have something,” he said.

  “What is it?” Buck asked, annoyed with the shortened version of Sergeant.

  “Halt,” Knox said, evenly and flat, as a robed man came from the woods towards their security perimeter. “Guys, we have company,” Knox said, getting behind the sights of his rifle.

  “What the hell?” Buck took cover behind the truck, leaving Rook at the front of the action.

  Rook got behind the right passenger’s side hood. What the hell? He clenched his eyes shut and then opened them slowly, thinking that he was hallucinating. He’d done it before while pulling security. It was inevitable to happen when there was little sleep and massive amounts of caloric expenditure from missions. But he trusted his friend, an implicit trust that he didn’t share with everyone. So if Knox was worried, he was worried. More than that, he felt something unfamiliar emanating from the man, as if he should be afraid, as if he should flee in terror. Training or not, the thought of his squad getting hurt pulled through, over all the thoughts of flight, and changed his demeanor to fight. Make something of my life, right?

  “He said halt, Fuck boy!” Rook called out as the man took a step closer.

  The man glowed slightly, and his lips curled into a smile. He raised his hands up in a circling motion, chanting something in a language of tongues that ripped at Rook’s ears like amplified Velcro.

  You. You’re worthy of my gifts.

  The voice assaulted Rook’s brain over the sound of the chanting. Rook jumped at the voice in his head, as if his thoughts were being hijacked. “What the hell?” Rook asked, looking around.

  “What the fuck is that guy doing?” Rook asked, getting a good cheek weld to the buttstock of his rifle. “I’m ready,” he said, looking through his iron sights.

  His forearm was resting on the hood, giving him a good, stable position to fire, but damn did he really wish that his unit brought Night Vision Goggles. Rook challenged the robed man with the word of the day. “Thunder!”

  No response was given by the robed man, but underneath his hood, a smile cracked his bearded face.

  “Fuck it!” Rook bellowed, pulling the trigger. The rounds slapped against the blank firing adapter, and the burning smell of CLP entered his nostrils with every inhale. “If they wanna play light him up!”

  The radio fired up with chatter as Buck yelled from inside the Humvee. Rook glanced up at the .50 Cal machine gun atop the truck and cursed himself. The gun was down, because of poor pre-combat checks. Hence, the reason why two team leaders were being punished with Buck instead of with their own trucks.

  The robed man slapped his circling hands into the ground. It was as if the sun itself blinked into existence as a hot, bright blur, splashing in the dark forest in front of them. It blinded Rook like the flashbangs his instructors threw at him during his Special Reaction Team training, and left his ears ringing. Rook hit the dirt in an attempt to gain cover.

  “Fuck, what’s happening!?” The tingles of electricity moved up and down his arms, causing panic to take over. “I’m going to get us killed for real.” His heart rate pounded like a hammer.

  The bright flash overloaded his senses, sending a dull whine over every other sound. He cried out as rough hands shook his shoulders. Staff Sergeant Buck stood over him, mouthing something. Rook shook his head, in a haze as the world righted itself. His hearing came back into focus.

  “You alright!?” Buck asked, shaking Rook. “I gotta radio it up! Stay down!”

  Rook’s hazy thoughts stopped, and he scrambled to his fighting position, bringing his weapon up. Scanning his surroundings, he waited for another flash bang or another robed man. Above all else, he really had to piss. He’d never seen something light the forest up like the 4th of July on the sun. For several moments, the pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears stayed at full intensity.

  “What the fuck! What the fuck!” Knox was screaming over and over.

  “Dude, calm down!” Rook shouted from his position. Having a hard time taking his own advice, he grabbed his cigarettes and sucked in a breath. The box had been all but crushed, but taking a chance, he pulled out a very bent, but intact, menthol. “There’s hope,” Rook stammered, while the adrenaline coursed in his veins. He lit the bent cigarette, inhaling the cool vapors, and sighed.

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  “Sergeant, is everyone good?!” Rook called from his position.

  “I’m not getting anyone, keep your position, guys. We may need to check this out.”

  “Shit, I was expecting him to answer with lightning first, not for the asshole to summon lightning,” Rook said, before spitting on the ground next to him. “What was that anyway, a flashbang from hell?”

  “That had to have been a trick. It looked like fucking magic, though. I swear that dude was saying something when he was waving his hands in the air. You don’t think that he cast a spell or something, right?” Knox stammered the rapid-fire questions.

  “Magic like that isn’t real,” Rook replied, finally calming from the situation. “Just keep security, we’ll talk about it later.” Rook took another inhale and blew out the smoke.

  Buck hopped out of the Humvee, his boots squelching in the muddy ground as he walked over to Rook. “Listen, man, I’ve seen a lot of shit in the Army. But, nothing like that. Are you sure you guys are alright?” He asked, loud enough for Knox to hear.

  “I don’t know.” Rook answered, reaching down and grabbing his crotch. “I still have all three of my balls, so I guess yeah.” The trio sputtered in laughter.

  “Fuck you man, I knew better than to ask your ass.”

  “I’m good, Sergeant, really. Just spooked to shit,” Rook said, breathing in, holding it for a second, and then exhaling until his heart rate steadied. “I don’t know what they are doing for training nowadays, but how are we supposed to defend against a robed wizard?” Rook said, thinking of his video game posters. As he spoke, the cigarette broke at the bent crease. The stick of joy fell to the mud, its embers burning like a solemn campfire.

  “I think he was a mage, it’s gotta be…” Knox said.

  “Mage, huh? That’s an awful nerdy term for someone who was just shitting on me for spending my Saturdays playing Legends Triumph Online.” He felt around his cargo pocket for another menthol; luck had blessed him twice. In the bottom of his pocket was what felt like a pristine cancer stick. He popped the cigarette into his mouth. “Sarnt, I need another. You cool with that?”

  “Yeah, whatever, man. Just don’t set off the automatic extinguisher in the Humvee, I’ll actually kick your ass,” the squad leader said. “Alright, we gotta report this. Radio up to higher again,” Buck said, putting another wad of dip into his mouth.

  Rook jumped in the passenger’s seat and keyed the radio mic. The static came from the other side. “Any station on this net, this is Headhunter 1-2 actual, radio check.” He couldn’t hear any responses, despite the working comms. After a few moments of trying the hand mics, Rook sighed. “Um, Sergeant? I can’t get a hold of anyone on comms. Both truck and handheld,” Rook replied, blowing the smoke out of the open door.

  He walked over to Knox and crouched. “Wanna burn one?” He asked, handing out the menthol, knowing full well the goody two-shoes wouldn’t take it.

  “Dude, what the fuck did I tell you? Stop smoking those things, they’re gonna kill you.” Knox shook his head, with the same slow shake Rook was accustomed to.

  “Life’s been killing me slower, man. Hell, a little bit quicker lately, so a little tobacco won’t hurt,” Rook inhaled the smoke, holding it before letting the satisfying vapor leave his mouth, into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you at this Army thing.”

  “Bro, you’re great at this Army thing. You just seem not to give a shit most of the time. When you do, it’s like the leadership bends to your will. I had to bust my ass to get to corporal, you skated like a fucking ballerina on your honeyed words.”

  “On your honeyed words, I’m Knox, and I work hard,” Rook repeated the words, mocking his friend.

  “That’s it, you dirty bastard.” Knox jumped from his fighting position in the mud and took a step towards Rook.

  Rook instinctively guarded his cigarette, hissing like a bridge troll might at a billy goat. They circled around each other for a minute before Rook heard Buck’s growling.

  “Stop fucking around, you idiots.” We don’t know what the hell that guy was, we don’t have comms, and on top of that, you fuckwads are playing reacharound in the woods,” Buck said, knifehanding the pair. “You’d better shape the fuck up, I don’t mind making a couple of PFCs my team leaders, and they can barely find their own ass with both hands,” Buck growled, grabbing the cigarette from Rook and putting it in his mouth.

  “What do we do, since our PACE plan isn’t working?”

  “I’m glad you asked, Knox. Go check it out.” He blew out the smoke. I hope you boys are ready to get your noodles wet. Hell, next time just make sure your guys are doing the right thing during pre-combat checks, and I won’t have team leaders here doing a junior Joe’s job,” he said, emphasizing the words.

  “Yeah, roger that. Come on, man, let’s go.”

  I can’t wait to be promoted, cause fuck this dude.

  “Are you ready, man?” Rook asked Knox. His boots squelched in the wet earth.

  “No, but let’s do this anyway,” Knox replied.

  They scanned around the area where the man was standing and realized they were on a perfect circle of dirt. It was hardened like glass. Did that guy really do this? Then Knox stopped in front of him, holding a fist up out of instinct.

  “I think I got something,” Knox walked over to an old mole hill and picked up an object.

  Rook glanced back at the truck and realized they were approximately fifty meters away, a lot closer than Rook realized the robed man was. Holy shit, that guy got this close, without us realizing it.

  “Do you think that was really a mage or something?” Knox asked, still facing away from Rook. “That was crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life.”

  “I don’t know, man, you know what I think about shit I can’t explain. If I keep thinking about it, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” He rubbed a palm into his temple. “Is there any way we can just chalk it up to some homeless man who bought a wizard costume from one of those pop-up Halloween costume stores?” Rook asked, not even remotely convinced that’s what happened.

  “No chance, man, not after finding this thing,” Knox replied, his words small.

  Rook walked over, momentarily forgetting that Knox was holding something off the ground. “What’d you find? You know what they briefed about picking up old unexploded ordinance, and becoming pink mist.”

  Knox didn’t answer. He was holding something white as the full moon. It looked to be some type of six-sided flat crystal in his open palm. “It’s cold. Feel it,” Knox said, sounding far away.

  As Rook touched the surface of the stone, the world blinked out of existence.

  Am I dead?