Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 70

Shouts and individual shots indicated they
had found at least one survivor, though survivor was
perhaps not the right word. One of the soldiers came
back into the camp to report, they had found no more
enemy, no sign of the rebels that had been firing at
them, and “Beg pardon general, but one of ‘em is still
moving and would you come take a look.”

“Kill him. It. Finish it off!”

The soldiers obeyed the general’s order, and
eleven men fired. Every round struck the man, and his
body was smashed into the ground. It was not until
the last few hits had completely shattered its spine and
destroyed its head that it finally stopped moving.

“Bring some lights!” The general shouted then
started to move without waiting to see if his order was
carried out.

“What in god’s name?Was that a—”

“Not here!” General Summerby quickly silenced his officer’s speculation.

One general, one captain, a cluster of lieutenants, and a randomly selected group of soldiers
climbed over the trenches and into the darkness
beyond, then two more soldiers came up behind them
holding big, army-issue oil lamps.

“Sweep the area. Any more like this, finish
them off. Send to the quartermaster for a barrel of
lamp oil. Burn them, burn them all.”

The entire group followed the messenger
across the now bullet- and shell-torn ground until they
came to a group of men standing back from a figure on
the ground. They held their rifles with finge