Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - WAR IS HELL | Supernatural Horror Story

Episode Date: September 27, 2021

Be sure to check out Bikram Mann's new book, Unclean Spirits available on Amazon. You can also check out his Reddit page here. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🔔 YouTube animations: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] 📈 Business Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This story is rated R for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Fan of soccer, you could assist a moment historic. You could gain the bill for the final of the Cup of the World of the FIFA 2006 with Visa. It's just to have a card of credit visa BMO for participate. Inscribe you at BMO.com bar-oblique concourse. The reglements of the Concourse sapplic. Damascus International Airport hadn't changed much since the last time I had been here. Granted, I could no longer hear the thundering explosions that rumbled across the sky, rattling the very roots of the building.

were the echoing gunshots that sounded way too close for comfort. But everything else was still the same, almost disconcertingly so, from the fearful expressions that would occasionally slip out and spread across the faces of the sparse crowd of mostly domestic travelers, to the sandbag fortifications in every nook and cranny of the place, manned by regime soldiers with permanent scowls, marring their careworn foreheads,

and the plush sofas of the lounge that looked like they hadn't aged today in the last eight years. Hell, I even recognized one of the guys manning the check-in counters. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Indeed. A stabbing pain emanating from my knees crackled up my synapses as I walked towards the exit. A throbbing reminder of why I so detested this place. Gritting my teeth to block out the pain,

I passed through the automatic sliding glass doors, pulling my suitcase across the tiled floor, making its old wheels groan and squeal in protest, and eliciting annoyed looks from those around me. A pleasantly cool breeze welcomed me outside, and I felt the warm rays of the late morning sun wash over my skin. It certainly would have been a beautiful day if it hadn't been for the man waiting for me on the steps near the doors with a shit-eating grin on his face. Mutaza! He took his hands out of his pockets and pulled me in for a bone-crushing hug,

before pulling back and letting his bemused emerald eyes scan my face. Damn! You got old. I groaned. Yes, Liam. That's what eight excruciatingly long years do to people. Not to him, apparently. He looked every bit as handsome as he did the last time I had seen him,

with not even a single strand of his short, wavy blonde hair out of place, quite unlike my own follicularly challenged self. Touch! Growing old's a bitch, isn't it? He asked wistfully. I didn't bother to reply. We made small talk, catching up on what the two of us had been up to in the past decade,

as we strolled over to where he had parked his car, dancing around the topic we really needed to have a discussion on, with the two of us being far too professional to do, that where someone could easily eavesdrop. As we cleared the many checkpoints surrounding the airport and went deep into the city, we settled into a companionable silence as the emaciated Barada River pathetically burbled along next to us. I rested my head on the cool window of the car and gazed at the nauseatingly familiar skyline of the city. All this sight was missing was plumes of thick, black smoke rising upwards in the distant horizon, and it would have felt like I had traveled back in time.

Our journey eventually ended at a deceptively abandoned-looking dilapidated school building, situated in the outskirts of the city. As we drove through the rusted iron gates, kicking up dust in the process, I could feel eyes on me. My suspicions were confirmed when I spotted snipers on the roof. You want to tell me what the fuck the U.S. military is doing this deep in regime territory? I asked Liam, who was looking at me in the rearview mirror. Well, it's all about why you're here. No, why we're here.

So, why exactly are we here? I asked. He sighed, taking one hand off the wheel and rubbing his eyes. It's bad, Murtaza. Really bad. As bad as the last time, he snorted. Worse, much worse. Last time was nothing compared to this. This thing's got everybody spooked. I've been getting calls from people I should never be getting calls from. I hauled ass and arrived here as soon as I could. What in the fuck happened? A couple of weeks ago, the U.S. military carried out a raid against a high-wraking Terrier al-Sham commander in the north. It didn't work out quite like they thought it would.

In fact, it was a damn mess. Everyone died. I raised my eyebrow. And I'm guessing it wasn't just an ambush by the terrorists. He shook his head. No, it certainly wasn't. We wouldn't be here if it was, now would we? No.

They got it all on camera, man. Shit's really fucked. Never seen anything like it in my life. That was quite a statement. Considering the kind of shit we come across on our line of work, we piled out of the car and walked into the school, which served as a makeshift military base, populated by what seemed to be essential personnel only.

To keep it all under wraps, I presume. Liam introduced us to the officer in command, and together we strode into what used to be the staff room of the school, now with monitors lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling. The officer gave us files containing a radio transcript of the operation and instructed one of his men to fire up some of the monitors and show us the video. We began with the strike team sliding down the ropes of the helicopter, which sent sand spiraling up in the air.

into the air with its powerful rotating blades. Judging by the grayish hue of the video, I deduced it was a nighttime operation, and we were looking through cameras mounted on the elements of the soldiers. The radio crackled, and they began communicating, and I had to look at the file once again to check the call signs.

H-A. Hotel Actual, the strike team. H-21, sniper-sponder team. DP, Dog Pound, Transport helicopter. C. Command. Hotel Actual. Come in, over? The soldiers had descended and were spread out into a loose circle. They were in a rural area, and I could barely make out some old and beaten down structures in the background. The guy whose camera we were following must have been the team leader,

since he was the one communicating, with his thumb on the radio on his shoulder. We heard a disembodied voice blaring from the radio as command replied. Hotel Actual, Command, receiving, over. We're coming up on the compound now. We'll locate and neutralize the target while Hotel 2.1 provides Overwatch. Over. Two of the soldiers broke away from the group and disappeared into the darkness. Affirmative.

Make sure you get a BID on the target before you engage. We're trying to avoid civilian casualties here. Roger that. Over and out. With their weapons drawn, the team moved as a unit towards its target, which became clear the closer they got to it. It was a two-story building with paint peeling off the walls, some of which were crumbling so badly that I could make out the house's brick and cement skeletal structure underneath.

The team assembled behind the boundary. wall, and I saw one of the soldiers' eyes glow under the glare from the camera as the team leader looked at him. The radio sputtered again. Hotel Actual. Hotel 21. We are in position overlooking the compound. Over. Hotel 21. Hotel Actual, copy. Maintain eyes on target and identify and neutralize any hostels. Be advised. Civilians are still on the area, so get a PID before engaging. Over. Roger, Hotel Actual. Over and out. The team leader craned his neck, and the helicopter appeared as a small figure on the screen, hovering in the gray sky some distance away from the strike team. Looks like Dog Pound's covering our asses. All right, boys. Let's get this shit done

and go back to our warm-ass beds. He barked some orders, and the soldiers began storming the house. They swung the gate open and entered the yard, fanning out to cover all possible entrances. The team leader had reached the front door when his radio interrupted him once again. Hotel Actual. I'm seeing movement to your southwest. Over. What was that, Dogpound? Are we clear to advance? Negative, hold position, over. Hotel 2-1, do you have eyes on? Affirmative. Hotel Actual, you have an unidentified individual

about 100 meters to the southwest, unarmed. Proceed with caution. Take us to the sniper team, please. Liam requested the man working on the computer who changed the view on the screen with a couple of rapid clicks. The scene shifted, and we were now on top of the roof of a nearby building, looking down at Hotel Actual from the back. There, Liam said, pointing at the right bottom corner of the screen.

Do you see it? I nodded. I could faintly make out an unusually tall figure skating the strike team. The sniper repositioned his gun, and the figure became slightly clear, but not much. All right. Liam continued. Take us back. We came back to the team leader of Hotel Actual, who quickly gave orders to his men using some hand signals and retraced his steps to investigate.

Roger, Hotel 21. We see him. Hold. The team leader shouted. U.S. forces. Put your hands up. The figure disregarded the command and continued to move closer. Stop! Turn around and walk away, or we will fire on you! The figure moved in a little closer, and my heart jumped out of my mouth as I saw him for the first time. He was tall, much taller than what I had assumed him to be, clad in some black robe,

probably a kaff tan or a thwab, with a kaffia tied up like a turban on his head. His lips were stretched into an unnaturally wide and still smile, as if that expression was forever frozen on his face, an expression that oozed maliciousness. His skin was so pale that light seemed to bounce off him, like some fucked-up miniature moon. But the most disturbing thing about him were his eyes, two giant glowing orbs that burnt like the sun. What the fuck? The team leader swore, and he was joined by the other soldiers. Do you see his eyes, Sergeant? What the fuck is that?

I couldn't help but shiver at the sheer evil emanating from this thing. The team leader was faster at getting over the shock of it all than I was. Command, be advised. There is a civilian near our position. But Tal Actual, are you positive he's not armed? Before the team leader could reply, the man with the glowing eyes just disappeared with a loud pop. And the screen shook wildly as the soldiers began to panic. What the fuck? Where did he go? And anguish-filled scream ripped through the soldiers, making the team leader swing his head in the direction of the sound.

Hotel Actual, come in. When the camera stabilized, we saw that the man with the glowing eyes had stabbed one of the soldiers through the chest with his bare hand and was now dangling the poor bastard in the air like a rag doll. He pulled his hand free and turned his head sharp. to look at the team leader. His smile somehow stretching even wider. Shoot it! The sergeant shouted, pulling his gun up, but his finger froze with fear when the man opened his mouth, his jaw dropping low enough to touch his chest, and screeched, with the sound so low and animalistic it made those of us watching the video wince.

Muzzle flashes lit up the screen as the soldiers fired at the man, but he disappeared almost instantly, causing the bullets to sail through the air harmlessly. Command, this Dogpound 2-5, we're observing small arms fire going off in Hotel Actual's position. I repeat, shots fired. How many combatants are engaging them, Dog-pound? Do you copy that Hotel 2-1? Can you identify the number of combatants engaging Hotel Actual? Over.

Dog-pound, it's a blurrer. I can't see what's going on. The strike team was being picked off one by one, with the attacker being too fast for the frightened soldiers to handle. That thing wasn't content with just killing them. He was taunting them, taking his time to accept. their suffering and mocking them. At one point he ripped off the arms of one of the soldiers and used them to wave at the team leader. Sickening stuff. This is Hotel Actual. Something is tearing

apart our men. Fuck! Shoot it! Requesting backup immediately! The next second, the man with the glowing eyes appeared right in front of the team leader. His face just inches from the camera. I could almost feel the rod and decay in his skin, even as the glow from his eyes consumed half the screen. Then the team leader's head jerked to the side with a horrible crunch and he fell over the backwards, the camera hitting the ground lens first, taking away all visibility. Liam whispered something, and the view subsequently changed to the sniper team's position. Hotel Actual, come in, Steve, Rodriguez, dark pound. Hotel Actual is in heavy combat and requires backup.

Can you fly in and assist? Over. Roger, we're flying in now. Keep providing Overwatch and lookout for RPGs. Affirmative, but be advised. Hotel Actual's position has gone completely dark. We see no movement whatsoever. The overwhelming sound of the helicopter. took over as Dog Pound approached the scene of the carnage.

Does Dog Pound not have a camera? I asked softly. It did, Liam replied solemnly. Hotel 2-1. We're coming up on Hotel Actual's position, but it's a mess down there. What in the world happened here? Dog Pound, do you see any survivors? Negative. There seems to be no movement here. Wait, I see somebody. He's dressed in black. Is that a civilian? Wait! Careful, Dog Pound, that is not.

He's running towards us. He might be armed. Is he going to jump? Oh, Jesus Christ! We heard a bang from the helicopter as something too fast for the naked eye to catch, slammed through it, and then smoke started coming out of it in pulsating waves as it began spinning out of control. Mayday, Mayday, this is Dog Pound 2.5. We're going down in Creed 231. The helicopter slammed into the ground with a resounding crash,

and almost immediately burst into flames that flashed so bright in the grayish background. They made me blink my eyes. Hotel 21. What's happening down there? Sir, it looks like something smashed into Dog Pound. Roger, secure the crash site. Evac is inbound. Hotel 21, come in. The sniper team didn't reply, probably because they saw what we were looking at right now. The thing that had murdered the others was now stalking them.

Command, it saw us. Lamanski. Pack your shit. We're leaving now. Tell Evac to double-time it. Slow down, son. Who saw you? It's coming. Send back up now. Evac is inbound, but I need to know your position. Hotel 21? While command was speaking, that unholy shriek once again boomed in the vicinity of H-21. And their camera fell over to the side, staring off into the distance uselessly. Hotel 21, respond! And with that, the video finally ended.

I tore my eyes off the screen and looked at Liam. My head buzzing with a thousand different questions. So I settled for the most obvious of responses. I need a fucking drink. Almost as soon as the video ended, a deafeningly loud ringing erupted in my ears, and my heart began to palpitate at an insane rate. My hand started trembling and sweat poured out of every available.

orifice, drenching my clothes and causing them to desperately cling to my body. I joked and said I needed a drink before excusing myself and trotting over to the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me and collapsing onto my hands and knees. A lump formed in my throat with fear and anxiety, tightening my chest and constricting my lungs, making it become harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to close in around me like they wanted to grind my bones to dust and snuff out every trace of my existence. Light bulbs overhead burned with such intensity that my skin seemed to sear under their heat. Old memories that regularly haunt my nightmares flashed through my mind as I put my head in my hands and squeezed my temple with my fingers. It had been quite a while since I'd last

had one of these attacks, and I honestly felt like I was getting better at dealing with them. But that video just wiped away all the progress I had made in an instant. God, if only I could have acted differently that day, there's nothing that I wouldn't do to go back and change things. Eight years earlier, the ramshackle apartment that we were in was little better than a hovel, small and cramped with a bizarrely low ceiling and a fetid stench that had lingered for so long in the stale air that it had permeated the very walls, establishing its permanence in them. The place was swamped with darkness, not the sort your eyes adjust to after a couple of uncomfortable minutes, but the sort that overpowers your senses, before slipping into your chest and clutching

your heart painfully. I clicked the lighter in my left hand, once, twice, thrice, before it flickered to life, weakly pushing back against the oppressive dark, and casting deep shadows on the rickety furniture inches from my legs, shadows that quivered when the flames wavered under my unsteady breath. The dagger in my right hand hummed softly as it gleamed, producing a pale blue luminescence. That afrit we were hunting was nearby, and even the little girl clinging to my legs could sense it. Something skittered past us, sending little sparks drifting in its wake with a soft whoosh, making little Soraya whimper in fear. Liam's boots pounded the floor as he traced the demon's footsteps, a shining dagger of his own drawn for the kill. Where are you, you slippery

bastard? He shouted. Damn it, can't fucking see anything. Stay close to me, Liam. I yelled. Don't let him get the drop on you. A harsh crackling boomed in the tiny apartment. You think that's funny, you fucker. Liam swore. I noticed something out of the corner of my eyes. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, a glowing ball of fiery flames that grew bigger as it hurtled through the air. Watch out! I screamed. And Liam, being the consummate professional that he was, ducted almost immediately. Yet the blazing fire singed his forehead, making him yell before crashing against the wall

behind him harmlessly. Before I even had the chance to check on him, something slammed into me, sending me tumbling down to the floor and causing Soraya to shriek in front. That Afrit was upon me, ripping my clothes to shreds and gouging out chunks of my flesh with its powerful claws as it danced on me, always slipping out of my grasp with stunning ease. I swung the dagger around wildly, but he stomped on my hand, making me drop it with an echoing clang. He wrapped his bony, yet surprisingly strong hands around me, and began to squeeze. I writhed on the floor, not wanting to be strangulated by this tiny monster, but I shouldn't have

bothered. He wasn't trying to choke me, you see, he was just holding me in position. When he had me pinned, he looked down at me and opened his mouth wide. A faint light emerged. from the back of his throat, a splash of orange that grew brighter as the clock ticked by before I finally noticed that it was another fireball. Fuck. Luck was on my side, and it showed, with how the Afrit never got the chance to roast my skull as Liam stabbed him through the back, his sparkling dagger emerging out of the demon sternum with a sickening crunch before its light faded away his life left the rubbery body

of the monster above me. It took us a couple of minutes to throw the dead demon corpse off me and hobble outside, with the wounds in my body throbbing excruciatingly more with each step. The harsh sunlight stung my eyes as we exited the building, but it was a heavenly sensation compared to the hellish darkness of the apartment. You really should have taken this before going in there. Liam groaned as he stabbed my thigh with the injection containing the mysteriously luminescent and gelatinous blue-colored substance.

Relief flooded me as the substance circulated in my system, healing my wounds and pumping strength into my muscles. I could feel the crescent tattoo on my forehead pulsate soothingly. Yeah, I didn't know something that weak would give us so much trouble, jumping little fucker. I wheezed my reply. Douchy, he agreed. That little trick of his with the dark was quite annoying indeed.

Mr. Mertaza? The squeaky voice of Soraya interrupted our conversation. Is it over? I could sense the trepidation in her trembling voice. That girl had been through hell, losing both her parents and her brother to the fire demon we had just slain. I glazed at her. and nodded, and she finally allowed the dam holding back her sorrow to burst open and started

sobbing uncontrollably. Her piece of shit father had, in his supremely limited wisdom and boundless greed, ruined her life by summoning that thing. I went to awkwardly pat her shoulders to comfort her when I stopped midway by thundering explosions in the far distance behind me, followed by staccato gunfire. I turned my head to see smoke rising into the horizon as blaring alarms began ripping through the clouds. The war had arrived at Gouda, ready to destroy countless innocent lives in this beautiful suburb of Damascus. I cast my eyes at Liam, who was looking back at me with concern, writ large upon his face. We need to leave, he whispered, now. We climbed into the rental car with me taking the driver's seat. I pulled out of the street on which Saraya's house was located.

Really? Liam asked. You want to go through there? He pointed at the windshield and disbelief. The fucking regime soldiers would have blocked off all the roads into the city up ahead. What do you want me to do then? I countered. Go back and drive through actual war? No, we have to go in this direction, the airport's closest this way. You better hope those assholes don't just blow us off the road, he grumbled, but proceeded to sit back and worried silence. As I navigated the congested, yet mostly intact roads of outer Damascus, the horrible sounds of the war continued to accompany us. I didn't know it then, but those sounds would infect my brain. brain, peeling away my sanity layer by layer in the years to come.

The city was in chaos. No faction involved was on the side of the civilians who were running helter-skelter for safety that soon would stop existing. It took us about 15 minutes to arrive at the first military checkpoint. The regime army had blocked off the road with the truck, and a couple of 50-Cal machine guns were bearing down on anyone daring to cross. We were the fifth car from the barricade, and our turn arrived after a painfully long wait. of the soldiers walked up to the car and tapped my window. I rolled it down and greeted the fellow

in Arabic. His suspicious eyes scanned our faces before he asked for our papers. I bent over to retrieve the documents from the glove compartment. It was the biggest mistake of my life. As I was bending over, my shredded suit jacket pulled up, revealing the gun holster strapped to my chest. The soldier shouted an alarm and pulled his gun up, aiming at my face, forcing Liam to pull out his pistol and point at the soldier to protect me. Frantic screaming ensued, and I remember desperately trying to calm everyone down to diffuse the volatile situation. To this day, I don't remember who fired the first bullet, but I do remember a sharp pain exploding in my jaw and in my sides, as my blood squirted out of my body and splashed the glass window and the windshield. Seeing what had

happened, the other soldiers reacted quickly, peppering our car with bullets, including the massive shells of the two 50-cal machine guns. In the end, it was Liam and the In the end, it was Liam and the injection that saved me. I drifted in and out of consciousness as the horrific fighting continued for seemingly no reason. I remember the smell of gunpowder, the visceral sight of the car stained with blood and perforated with bullet holes, and the sharp-plinking sound of bullets smashing into the metal frame. But most of all, I remember being dragged away by a wounded limb who wildly fired at the regime soldiers while I laid my head on his shoulder, gazing back at the broken body of the little girl that I had tried so hard to save. We successfully protected her

from a supernatural monster from hell, but ended up losing her to something far more banal. War. My mind never quite recovered from the trauma I received that day, and the sight of the soldiers in the video had triggered a full-blown panic attack. A soft knocking on the wooden door of the bathroom pulled me out of reverie.

Hey, you okay, man? Liam's muffled voice drifted in. My panic attack had finally ended, and I slowly got up on my feet, dusted my clothes off, and replied, Yeah, just peachy. Give me a minute. I washed my hands, splashed my face with water and walked outside to find Liam and Colonel Shaw, officer in command of the base, waiting for me outside the surveillance room. I calmed my breathing and joined them. So, you boys finally ready to let me know what the fuck is happening here? The colonel asked impatiently. I mean, it isn't every day that civilians get access to military bases and active war zones like this. Who are you? What is going on?

With all due respect, Colonel, we can't let you know exactly who we are. We don't really have the authority to do so, Liam replied. But considering that we'll be working together for the foreseeable future, we can give you a brief overview of what we do. I nodded, and Liam continued. As you might have surmised from the video, that thing we're dealing with, well, isn't exactly human. The Colonel stiffened at that, but didn't say anything. It is our job to contain creatures like him, Liam added.

Colonel Shaw snorted. So, you guys are some sort of monster hunters? I shook my head. No, not exactly. Our job isn't to hunt monsters, but to protect the boundary that separates our world from theirs. So, in a way, we're more like zookeepers than hunters. So what is that thing?

Colonel Shaw asked softly. That creature with the glowing eyes. We don't know, Liam admitted. We have never seen anything like it before. And trust me, when I say it, We have seen a lot of shit. Yeah, that thing was very powerful, more powerful than anything we've ever encountered. And it has us very concerned, I added.

Why? Colonel Shaw asked. If more powerful creatures are sneaking into our world, that means the barrier is weakening. Jesus, the colonel reacted. I could sympathize with the shocked colonel, even though he didn't know the whole story. There was a crucial bit of information we had intentionally chosen not to reveal to him. information that made me question who exactly had ordered the military strike, and for what purpose? Because when Evac had arrived at the location where the strike team was sent,

they found that the target location had been abandoned for a long time. It was almost as if someone had set the strike team up. You see, the boundary only weakens when we turn our side of the world more and more hellish, erasing the differences with the other side. And God knows we had done that in Syria. We had failed its people in a manner never before seen throughout human history. Even the Second World War hadn't seen such callousness exhibited towards civilians by the world, and we were now reaping the toxic fruits of our labor.

As if that wasn't enough, someone was aiding the process by deliberately setting up events to aid the monsters. Someone was taking advantage of all the chaos and scraping away at the boundary on our end. The truck shook violently as it ran roughshod over gigantic potholes in the road, rattling my bones. The driver was either drunk or just didn't give a shit about those of us riding in the back. back, probably both. My teeth clattered painfully as he drove into another little rib in the asphalt tapestry. Fuck, the driver's a real charmer, isn't he? Liam grunted as he fiddled with the strap of his helmet. What fucking crawled into his ass and died? Well, I'm not digging around in there to find out.

I replied and my whole body vibrated as the truck crashed into one more pot. He snorted, before whistling in elation as he finally won the fight with his helmet, firmly securing it in place. I was thumbing the safety of my rifle, breathing slowly. to calm myself down when I noticed Liam looking at me. His emerald eyes softening with compassion. It's not your fault, you know. I bowed my head and focused my eyes on my boots. It isn't, he insisted. You tried your best.

You damn well know that. What happened to that girl was not your fault. But it was, I replied. It really wasn't. Yes, it was. No, it really... Damn it, Liam it, I protested. Quit fucking trying to make me feel good.

I know it's my fault, okay? I should have known better than to recklessly drive through a blockade like that. I should have just put my gun away, and I never should have underestimated that a frit. Also, I should have finished the damn job sooner. It was a cocktail of little mistakes, all made painstakingly by me that led to that cluster fuck of a job. It's my fault that she died such a painful death. No, fuck that, he countered.

You don't get to shoulder all the guilt like some kind of martyr. I was right there next to you the whole time, so I at least get 50% of the blame. I interrupted him. I was the lead there. It was an impossible situation, he cut me off. We couldn't have anticipated that the war would reach the Capitol's doorstep that quickly, or that the job would take so much longer than expected, or that those assholes would be so trigger-happy.

I can't help it, man. I sighed. The guilt is eating me up from the inside. You have to move on, Mortaza. I fucking need your head in the game right now. I can't take that thing on all by myself. I nodded. Yeah.

You don't have to worry about that. Yeah? He said disbelievingly, because it certainly doesn't look like it. I was about to argue with him some more when the truck lurched to a stop. We had been fighting ever since our last conversation with the colonel. Liam had pulled me over to the side and asked me why I was favoring my left leg. He wondered why I was going through what seemed to be long-term pain, when the liquid that we inject ourselves with would surely have taken care of that.

I'd try to dance around the subject to try and wriggle my way out of it, but he figured it out. Ever since that incident eight years ago, I had been experiencing some fucked-up version of phantom leg pain in my knee, almost as if my conscience was inflicting this agony on me as a punishment. Guilt is a bitch, isn't it? We tumbled out of the truck, taking cover on the sides of the road, just like the soldiers we were accompanied. Sounds of urban warfare rang loudly in our surroundings as Assad's soldiers advanced as one of the few remaining rebel positions in the north. Higher ups in the U.S. military had been in touch with the regime, and a backroomed.

deal had been struck to deal with this situation. And here we were, along with a small contingent of American soldiers bang in the middle of a war zone, trying to draw out a demonic entity. Liam's research had established that the video we had seen wasn't the first sighting of the man with the glowing eyes. Reports had shown that he had been popping up in various battlefields all over the region, slaughtering people indiscriminately and vanishing without a trace. It was like he was drawn to the stench of war, like some crazed bloodhound. So we decided to dangle some meat some meat in front of the fucker and trap him. He was probably probing the thin curtain separating our world from his, looking for vulnerabilities to rip apart and bring more of his friends to our side.

It's difficult to exaggerate just how important it was to shut that shit down. It was a gamble. We weren't certain whether he would actually show up or not, but I liked our odds. An active battlefield and the two of us with those tattoos on our foreheads that acted like lighthouses for creatures like him. The chances of him showing up here were indeed quite high. Further, boosting my confidence was the liquid coursing through my veins, flooding some desperately needed strength into my aging body. After patting my pockets to check my supplies, I grabbed my rifle and began trotting alongside the soldiers who began roaming the streets seemingly aimlessly.

It was a full moon night, and the beautiful houses lining the streets that had been turned to haunting rubble by the mortar shells were bathed in a gentle white glow, as if the moon itself was trying to comfort the wounded city. A cold breeze howled through the streets, singing an ode to the in a moment. who had been caught between the jihadists and the butcher Assad's soldiers. This country, these people, deserved better. We had been wandering for about ten minutes, staying just out of reach of the battle. When one of the soldiers jogged towards us, his eyes wide with fright.

We found him. He's tearing apart the regime's soldiers a couple of clicks north of here. I nodded at Liam, who consulted Sergeant Cotton, the team leader, and we began heading towards our target. Sure as fuck hope he's still there by the time we arrive. Liam whispered as he ran up and started walking alongside me. We must have been about halfway through when we heard it. This loud, ear-splitting, soul-crushing and bone-rattling shriek that cracked through the wind like a gunshot. Experiencing that creature's war cry like this was completely different than listening to it from the safety of some speakers.

The sound itself was enough to halt our advance, and I could see some of the soldiers whimper in fear. They were young, barely out of their teens, and had already been thrust into this nightmarish situation. Sergeant Cotton barked some orders and we began walking again. Liam's hopes were soon dashed. We never got there in time. The thing came to us. I was the first to spot him. He emerged, just as a tiny speck in the distance,

blacker than the darkness surrounding him, except for his face, pale and shiny with an otherworldly quality to it, shimmering in the distance, like a bright little lamp hoisted on some long and dark pole. I see him. I shouted, my voice more low-pitched than I had intended. But fuck, that guy was terrifying. Fan out. Sergeant Cotton roared. We all obeyed, quickly finding cover and aiming at the monster stalking us. It seemed like a good idea at the time. To draw him in, trap him into a corner and call in the big guns.

But seeing him up close, his dark robes fluttering in the air and his twin sons that burned in his eyes' sockets made me realize just how fucking stupid we were. The wide, mischievous grin frozen on his face sent little shivers skittering down my spine. It was as if he knew our secret, knew the fact that we were trying to trap him. and he just didn't care. Sergeant Cotton opened his mouth to order the soldiers to open fire on him, but his jaw froze in that position as the man with the glowing eyes disappeared with a pop, before appearing in our midst within a second and starting to rip us apart like paper. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark and desolate street as we fired at the monster,

but just like the video, he was much too fast for measly bullets, easily dodging and weaving his way through. But Liam and I knew that. The point wasn't to shoot the fucker, but to buy enough time for Liam, who went around drawing wounds on the walls of destroyed buildings around us with his liquid-infused blood. He dashed frantically trying to complete his task, the tattoo of a cross with a crescent for a hilt, emerging from his hiding spot and flashing bright on his forehead. It was a race.

Would the man with the glowing eyes kill us all before Liam finished his job, or would we succeed in outlasting him? He certainly seemed to be winning the race with how fast we were losing men. The open area we were in was fast being littered with limbs and corpses as crimson red blood that clinton. under the moonlight began flooding the road. Even with my heightened reflexes, it wasn't easy to shoot him, but I did succeed in getting at least a couple of shots in. And to my relief, he wasn't entirely unaffected. That was good news, especially with what we had planned for later. He disappeared again, and I turned my head to check on Liam to make sure he doesn't end up being attacked while he's working. It was a mistake, as the monster appeared in front of me in that second, and stabbed me

through the gut with his sword-like claws, lifting me into the air and glaring at me with unrestrained malice. I coughed, and blood came sputtering out. His fiery eyes burned my retinas, and I had to close my eyes to blot out the pain which somehow easily overpowered the agony in my torso. And then he was gone, dropping me on the ground and going after the soldiers. My head swooned. My injuries were too deep, too harsh for the liquid in my system to easily handle, yet strong enough to keep me conscious. I teetered at the edge of wakefulness, suffering through every second of excruciating pain, helplessly watching the slaughter of the soldiers around me. Just when I was beginning to think it was all over, a soothing humming overtook the death

rows of our companions, and the area was flooded with a bright yellow light. I blinked, groaned, and looked at Liam, who was pressing his palm against a room painted on a wall nearby, from which the light emerged, slipping past his fingers and overwhelming the surroundings. The monster screeched. His frightening voice full of confusion with a hint of fear seeping in. Seems like that smug confidence was just a bluff. He didn't really know what we were planning on doing here.

He zoomed around in the area at blindingly fast speeds, trying to break through. But the barrier Liam built kept him firmly in place. Come on, let's go. Liam said as he put my arm around his shoulder and helped me hobble away. He's too strong. The barrier won't hold him for long here. Fuck.

Wish we had more liquid. The remaining soldiers, all three of them followed our lead and exited the area. It was over, shockingly fast. In the time that Liam had taken to set the trap, the monster had killed over 30 people. Thank fuck that his senses weren't sharp enough to narrow down on the two of us. I shuddered to think what would have happened otherwise. We were less than 100 meters when a resounding explosion shook the earth,

and then again. The predator drone flying overhead finally unloaded on the monster, emptying all its arsenal on him, burying it, under tons of some of the most powerful explosives that weren't nukes. The body that the regime soldiers later recovered was shockingly human, except for its pale skin and gouged out eye holes that looked like they had been dipped in lava. The incident was promptly hushed up, and the world went back to brutalizing civilians for the sake of political power.

But our job wasn't done, and I could see as much when I looked at Liam's exhausted face while we were waiting at the airport. Never a moment to rest is there? I asked. He shook his head. God, I wish. Shit is only going to get worse now. He sat up, straightening his back, and then leaning towards me.

Murdaza, I found out something, something very troubling. I didn't tell you before because I was afraid of who might be listening. What happened? I asked. I asked some of my friends, people I trust in the organization, to dig around. They went and talked to the general who authorized the first strike. And what did they find? He blinked. His eyes hardening.

Some people intimidated him and then paid him off to order that strike. People with tattoos of crosses and crescents on their foreheads. Holy shit, I whispered. Exactly, he replied. There are traitors in our midst who are hell-bent on destroying the world. We have to find out who they are, or things like this will keep on happening. You can count on me. I will, he said, as he stood up after the announcement for his flight sounded over the speakers.

Go back to Cairo, rest, and then keep an eye on what the organization is up to east of the prime meridian. Gather people you can trust. I'll stay in touch. I nodded. And for God's sake, Murtaza, please see a fucking therapist. Take care of your mental health. I need you. Then he was off, striding over to boarding without bothering for a reply.

I rubbed my temple before running my fingers through my thinning hair. Fuck. Never a moment to rest in this job. I stood up and started walking towards my flight. Thanks for listening. This story was written by Bikram Man. He is a very talented horror writer. like to read more of his stories. Check out his newly released book, Unclean spirits, available on Amazon.

It's only $2.99 for Kindle users, or free if you have Kindle Unlimited. The link to his book is in the episode description. Lasagne sur-gillet, puissance-moly, power for 15 minutes. We're saying that's their dojo. Pre-a-joo? Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in-line that proposes the more recent machines-a-sou and the games of casinos. Profite of 50 tours-grat-sue on Big Bas Bonanza. without exigence of mise and with payment instantane. Hey, I've got gained.

Woohoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-Ojo! 18-year-depos only, exclude in Ontario. 50 tours gratis on the machine a sub-based Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10.

Decoveyeye to be in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply.