. . .

Gardenia

The soil was particularly hard this morning. Carl wiped his forehead with his sleeve, dirtying both even further. He hoed the ground again, viciously. Godforsaken hellhole, he thought. And Anita had been restless, too, which was always a bad sign. The beast had better senses than he had, and her warnings had saved him before. He wiped his forehead again, leaned on his hoe, and glared at the bright green landscape around him. For what seemed like the millionth time, he regretted ever having signed up for this duty. Not that he'd had much of a choice. The only conditions were that once the job was done, he'd be dropped off somewhere other than where one he'd come from, and that was all that'd mattered at the time. Now, though, survival seemed like a poor bargain.

Engrossed in his dour thoughts, he almost didn't notice anything wrong. After a moment, though, the silence struck home to him. Everything was quiet. No movements at all. When everything went still like that... there was about to be trouble. He drew the gun he always kept in its holster at his hip.

Suddenly, they attacked. Two from the trees ahead of him, another two from the foliage he hoed, one on each side. Their low shrieks filled the air as they hurtled in his direction, swerving to avoid the shots he fired. This was no ordinary assault. This was an ambush. They must have sympathizers on the inside or they could never have remained hidden this long. If he survived this, he was going to boil whoever was responsible. First, though, he had to survive.

One of his shots winged one of the ones ahead of him. Its fast roll slowed, and it started wobbling in circles. One down. A lucky shot hit the other one dead center. It exploded, bits of juice and rind flying in all directions. He dropped the gun and drew his combat knife as the other two reached him. With a swift overhand blow he drove it deep into the pulp. It barely slowed, and he managed to get out of the way of its charge just in time. Its shriek changed to a deeper bellow as it rolled backward, trying to crush him under its mighty bulk. He dived out of the way, and as it rolled by he managed to stab it once more in its delicate stem. Bright orange pulp squirted outward, and he stepped back to watch it die. Something slammed into him from behind and he went down, screaming as his shoulder shattered. He had forgotten the last one.

He rolled painfully to his feet facing the final one. This one he recognized.