Immediately after my boots crunched against the hard ground, I felt a rush of cold overtake me. I shivered, drawing my heavy green overcoat further over my shoulders. Turning to look behind us, I gazed out over the wide, grassy slope that gradually made its way down the side of the low hill, until its open expanse abruptly conceded to the forest not more than a one or two hundred meters away. The day was overcast, cloudy. Bright, white light enveloped the landscape in an eerie blinding glow. Somewhere a bird squawked, its ominous call echoing throughout the valley, lingering in the air like my breath, condensing in the cold for a few moments before dying away. Not another sound could be heard – I turned to face the boundary, the sound of the rocky soil shifting under my sliding boots making my stomach churn. The slamming of the driver’s side door nearly startled me. I shot my head to the side to see Albert walking around the back of the land rover, putting his gloves on as he did so.

     “It’s always this quiet,” he shrugged, reassuringly, with a clear of the throat as he finished putting on his gloves and walked around to the trunk. Gripping the handle, it swung up with merely a faint whirring sound. He placed both hands gingerly on the sides of his green, peaked cap, adjusting it slightly before rummaging through the trunk of the vehicle. I, meanwhile, gazed once more at the boundary before us, at the tall green shoots, and the murky, bottomless darkness within. It was uncomfortable to stare at, and something inside me wanted to avert my gaze from the lurking depths, but for some reason I felt myself unable to look away. Albert looked up at me, and registered what I was gazing at.

     “Oh,” he grunted as lightheartedly as he possibly could, turning in the direction of the bamboo, squinting in the light. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the view,” he assured before rummaging nosily through the trunk again. I merely nodded meekly, scarcely breaking my gaze from the thin stalks towering dozens of meters above our heads, stretching far into the sky above us, bending towards us, threatening to envelop us in its clenching grasp…The rustling and flapping of canvass told me that Albert had finally found them in all that rubbish.

     “Here you are,” he stated with a bit of a chipper spring in his voice as he literally tossed one of the wood-stalked rifles. I caught it clumsily as it slammed against my chest, taking half a step back, as Albert skillfully swung his over his shoulder with the ease of a scout who has done this hundreds of times – he probably had, after all. I, meanwhile, awkwardly fumbled with the thing before finally deciding to simply settle it in my hands and carry it in front of me at my waist – sure, it made me look like a novice, but I was, after all, so what did it matter? It was an old rifle, from the old times – rusting, bolt-action – but it would do.

     Albert began whistling a tune as he slammed the trunk door shut with a thud. He casually walked from the rover up the hill, the cheery and carefree melody of his song of choice seeming eerily out of place here. I followed behind him, jogging a little to catch up, so we could walk together up the hill towards the boundary.

     I liked Albert – I had only known him for a little under a week, but he was the nicest of the soldiers, always observant, and always looking for ways to include others. That wasn’t why I was here, though – that was definitely not my choice, or Albert’s. But he was an amiable enough person. A thick brown moustache scarcely stood out on his heavily stubble-ridden face, and he had the air of someone who couldn’t care less about their appearance, yet still he knew how to get things done.

     Another bird squawked in the distance. It sounded screeching and sickly, less than a warning call than a cry for help. I glanced again at Albert: he was walking casually, his hands swinging freely at his sides. He had stopped whistling, and his eyes were fixed upon the ground, as if the possibility of losing his balance posed a more immediate threat than what lay before us. Finally, he glanced up.

     “Those ones, over there,” he pointed to a low pile of geometric green objects in the distance, without breaking his pace. I stared at them, the green cubes lying in the grass only a few feet from the bamboo. My heart began to race – my breathing became shaky, even as I tried as hard as I possibly could to sound focused and steady it. It had been almost a two-hour drive from the airbase, and I had spent the entire journey preparing myself for this, convincing myself that everything would go just fine. There hasn’t been an incident in months, I had thought to myself over and over. It’s perfectly safe. Everything will be perfectly all right.

     “See, in the old days, you would have had a village here,” Albert stated suddenly, talking frankly, as if he were filling me in on some local history. He spoke calmly, casually, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Perhaps he was trying to calm me, or calm himself, but then again, he was probably just trying to make conversation. “There’s the river, down that way,” he pointed into the distance behind us. “And the forest would provide plenty of wood.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose with his gloved hand. “Of course, ever since the hostilities began, the whole area’s been abandoned.” He swallowed, exhaling a delayed breath, clearly cold. “Now we have to deal with them,” he nodded to the boundary before us. I cleared my throat, wetting my lips with my tongue.

     “Does anything still remain,” I asked, my curiosity finally overcoming my nervous silence.

     “Of the people here?” Albert turned to me for a moment, keeping the same pace. “No, they’re long gone. Long before my time.” Albert, too, cleared his throat. “I imagine it would have been pretty nice in the summers. Although the lake by the airfield isn’t so bad. You should see it when it gets warm.” I nodded. We were slowly approaching the top of the hill. I had only been stationed in this Sector for a short time – less than a month – just in time for the winter to close in. But I remembered summers from years ago, when I was just a child, before I had even started training, when me and my sister would play in the forest.

     Running between the vine-enshrouded trees, the air warm and the ground spotted by yellow sunlight filtering through the leaves – that was my most common memory. Of course, there were also other things to do. There was a creek that ran through the woods, which would occasionally fill up to chest-height, if it rained enough. Plus, it was home to the frogs and crayfish, casually milling about the water. Not to mention that the forest ground was almost deserted of foliage, which made playing games like tag and hide-and-seek all the more enjoyable.

     Looking at the sight before us, though, it seemed to me to be the furthest thing from the forest of my childhood, which I realized I probably could not have been further away from. Instead of brown trunks jetting out of sun-spotted ground, there were only grey shoots slinking towards the dull sky. Sickly stalks seated on dormant grass grasping for sullen clouds. Grey, grey, grey…By the time I realized I was lost in my own head, we had almost reached the boxes. I had to be focused.

     “Right,” Albert stated as he slid his rifle off his shoulder and carefully leaned it against the outermost of the metallic crates. They were few, and short – the largest one only up to my waist – but they were wide, and heavy. Several of them lay there haphazardly, clustered around one another, as if they had been scattered there out of clumsiness. The tops to all of them were open, revealing their complete lack of contents – not an inch of the insides of the dull, metal boxes were tainted with anything that would indicate they had once been filled.

     “You know the drill,” Albert muttered as he flipped open the cover to the keypad on the only box that was closed, and looked up at me. “Just like on the airfield.” He bent down to a squat to enter the code. I swallowed, staring once again into the depths of the bamboo, gazing deep into the boundary, at the unnatural stillness that it promulgated. It almost felt as if the darkness were coming towards me, breathing, the stalks shrinking into distance, yet coming to envelop me. My eyes began to water – I was scarcely aware that I was trembling. But the high-pitched beeping sounds of the numbers being pressed into the keypad brought me back to my senses.

     “Ok?” Albert asked as he looked to me, indicating that we were about to do the deed. I swallowed, but nodded. “All right,” he muttered, for the first time showing a touch of uneasy fear. He placed his gloved hand on the key sticking out of the small lock next to the keypad and paused, pursing his lips, as if waiting for the right moment. He hesitated for a moment more before finally summoning the courage and firmly giving the key a hard turn. My hands were already on the lid of the crate, and as soon as it loosened itself from the box, we began to lift. Me and Albert both grunted as we hoisted the thing up and over the box and let it slide off the edge, where it implanted itself into the ground. Immediately, the stench overtook me. I resisted the urge to put a hand to my nose, but it was strong – stronger than I had ever smelled it. I noticed that Albert had grabbed his rifle and taken a few steps back, so I decided to stop trying to play it cool and also backed away from the thing.

     “Will they find it,” I asked. Albert turned.

     “Yeah, they’ll find it.” We both stood, gazing, staring, wondering…Lost in the darkness of the bamboo, in the depths of the murkiness that lurked beyond the boundary. “Quick work, yeah?” He suddenly asked as he turned to me, casually, but with a slightly uneasy expression. It took me a few seconds to register what he had said.

     “Yeah,” I nodded. I was still cold, so I let my rifle dangle from the bend in my arm as I adjusted the beanie cap on my head. Albert reached into the inside of his buttoned green officer’s coat and pulled out a boxy little computer screen with a knob on the top, extending a long antenna from it as he took it out. He began to twist the knob as he squinted at the screen.

     “Yeah, I also try to avoid looking in the box.” he stated. I suddenly felt embarrassed for averting my gaze from crate so visibly. Meanwhile, the device in Albert’s hand made a few high-pitched whirring sounds as he tried to focus it.

     “That tags it?” I confirmed.

     “Yup, pretty much,” he stated without breaking his attention from the device, dragging his words out from concentration. He held the instrument close to his face, his expression focused, full of attentiveness. “Just letting the pilots know it was dropped off properly.” Having completed his task, he shoved the antenna back down and stuck the thing roughly into his coat, shoving his hands in his pockets with a satisfied sigh before turning to me. “What’s the matter? We’re done,” he shrugged matter-of-factly with a sideways nod of the head. I swallowed, looking back into the bamboo again.

     “Has anyone ever gone in there?” I finally managed to mutter. The question had been burning inside me ever since my arrival in the Sector, but I was too afraid to ask it. Albert scoffed, looking down with a smile.

     “Has Nora been telling you stories?” He chuckled, kicking at the ground with his boot, his hands still in his pockets. I didn’t answer – of course I had heard the tales from Nora. She pounced on me with them my first day, trying to scare me. But I was curious either way, whether Nora had been in the picture or not, so I said nothing. “Well, they’re true,” Albert stated suddenly with a purse of the lips, gazing up at the bending, leafy tips of the stalks high above, his hands still in his pockets. It was hard to tell, but it looked like he was battling some sort of emotion.

     “So people have died in there?” He turned his head to me again, staring. He bit his lip, and nodded, slowly at first, and then swiftly, as if contemplating his response.

     “‘Dying’ is one word for it,” he affirmed. “Either way, people walk in, they never come back out.” He cleared his throat.

     “Anyone you knew?” He turned his whole body to me, his expression turning thoughtful.

     “That I know? No, not in my entire time here,” he shrugged casually, taking his hands from his pockets and walking back towards the rover, his rifle hanging over his shoulder. “No one walks over the boundary ever, unless they’ve gone mad,” he stated as he strode down the hill. I jogged to catch up to him. “The real threat is what comes out of there, so let’s get off.” He cleared his throat once more. “I’ll signal the base to let them know that the arial unit dropped it off successfully and that we managed to-” We stopped dead in our tracks. I looked to Albert: his face was pale, his eyes wide, yet his expression was steady, almost calm.

     “I feel it,” I muttered, frozen with fear, a massive chill overtaking me. My rifle was clutched over my chest, and I knew that my knuckles were turning white under my gloves. I tried to breathe deeply, to not disturb the tranquil atmosphere. Somewhere again in the distance a bird called, a cry once more echoing over the valley. Albert had somewhat regained himself. “What do we do?”

     “Turn around, but don’t move from that spot,” he whispered almost seethingly, emphasizing his instructions as much as possible. We remained that way for only a second more before we slowly began to turn, in opposite directions, gently lifting each of our boots from the ground before placing them back down alternately, turning a little each time. I was terrified – it was here, I could sense it. That was the first sign. Didn’t they say that this would be the first sign?! I almost let out a sob – I had never been more tense in my entire life. Before long, we stood, shoulder to shoulder, facing the darkness. The moment was rigid – the day was still, calm

     “Do you see it?” Albert whispered.

     “What?” I somehow managed to reply.

     “Do you see it?” He repeated. “Right there,” he lifted an arm and pointed into the murky depths…I saw nothing. I swallowed, trying to stabilize my breathing. I was frankly surprised at my ability to remain calm, or at least appear to be. “It sees us,” Albert muttered in an almost quavering voice. That sentence flooded me with horror. For a brief moment, the thought flashed across my mind that he was just messing with me, but then I saw it, lurking, a large patch of darkness just barely standing out from the rest. A sense of dreadful foreboding embedded in the bamboo washed over me with its contagious murkiness.

     “When I tell you to run, you run,” Albert suddenly stated in a firm whisper. “Got it?”

     “What?”

     “You heard me.”

     “What?”

     “Got it?”

     “Got it,” I finally responded, and swallowed. A crack, like a dry branch snapping underfoot, rang out from within. I swallowed. “Do I run to the truck?”

     “No, not the truck,” Albert replied with an air of disbelief, as if he were afraid that I should ever think of such a thing. “Run right on past it, all the way to the forest – they won’t follow you once you’re there.” He paused, swallowing. “Take this.” He swiftly reached into his coat and pulled out the little device from earlier, shoving it into my pocket before I could even react. “Contact the Sector commander as soon as you’ve made it there.” I carefully pressed my hand against the bulge in my pocket to ensure the device was there.

     “What about you?” I whispered.

     “I’ll wait here until you’re there,” Albert swallowed. “If at least one of us is looking at it, it won’t come after us.

     “Why’s that?”

     “Cause’ the dead don’t have eyes.” We both went silent.

     “What? Sure they do.”

     “No, the eyes decompose first.” I didn’t acknowledge this morbid little fact – I was still trying to focus on keeping my breathing steady. “It’ll loose interest once it realizes who we are, don’t worry. I’ll drive by with the rover then and pick you up. Got that?” He must have been displeased with my silence, because he reassured me again. “Don’t worry, this kind of thing has happened to people before – we know how to deal with this.”

     “And has anyone survived before?” Albert didn’t answer. His silence was the worst possible response I could have received. Or maybe he just didn’t hear me, as he was focused intently on the boundary, his gaze steady, his brows pursed.

     “Run, now,” he suddenly whispered harshly. I didn’t move. “I said run!” He snapped. I took a few, cautious steps back, my boots crunching on the gravel, before I finally came to my senses and turned, sprinting as fast as I could down the slope, my rifle clutched in my hands so hard that if it had been made of anything other than metal and wood my fingers would probably have dug right into its stiff figure. Adrenaline raced through my blood, my legs so shaky that I was worried that my knees would buckle underneath me. Panting, I sprinted straight past the rover and charged further down the hill, pushing against the ground with all my might, flying along with what I hoped was remarkable speed. The panting of my breath and the thump of my boots against the hard ground were the only sounds that filled the atmosphere, until suddenly, creaking sounds began to echo throughout the valley, heavy and loud, like wooden beams groaning and snapping under stress.

     “Oh God,” I muttered, my eyes starting to tear. The sound of another loud snap cracked throughout the landscape, and I dove to the ground, in a small ditch at the base of the valley. I just lied there on my stomach, my cheek against the cold grass, my eyes on the edge of the forest: it was so close, a few more seconds of sprinting and I would be there. But what if they were after me? I would never make it. But it wouldn’t fight me if I was looking at it.

     Still under the frantic influence of raw adrenaline, I shot my head up over the edge of the ditch, pointing my rifle towards the top of the valley, not daring to take my eyes from the iron sights…Nothing was there. I pointed the rifle wherever I looked, shifting it swiftly in short, deliberate motions, the thing clicking and clanking with each jerky swivel as the mechanical parts bounced around inside loosely. There were the boxes, the rover, the boundary…But no Albert. My stomach turned – I shuddered, forcing down nausea. Perhaps he had run? No, He would never do that. Even if he had, he still never would’ve made it. He probably never even had a chance.

     Crack! The snapping sound echoed again, startling me to my feet once more as I bolted as fast as I possibly could to the edge of the forest, literally diving over the tree line and rolling across the ground. My back hit a fallen trunk and I was left gazing out over the valley. I stared at it for a few moments, taking in the empty landscape, void of all movement, noise, or life, terrified, before I finally came to my senses and scrambled over the natural wooden barrier for cover. I took in a few rapid, swift breaths before I once more shot my head over the top and pointed my rifle…First left…Then right…Then left again…Nothing. I let out a sign of relief.

     “Khkhkhkhkh!” A loud staticky noise forced me to jump an inch into the air. I jolted, dropping the rifle and fumbling for the instrument in my pocket. I clumsily toggled with the buttons before finally stabilizing the frequency: “This is First Lieutenant Kay, checking in. You guys good out there?” The phonetic voice sounded high-pitched and raspy over the crude piece of equipment.

     “Uh, uh…” I muttered shakily, not sure what to respond given what had just happened. The officer on the other end could evidently tell I was frightened, despite the poor transmission quality, and seemed to infer what was going on.

     “Who is this, who am I talking to?” His voice now sounded eager, urgent.

     “Uh, Private Aaron McCoy,” I finally blurted out.

     “McCoy? Are you all right?”

     “Uh, yeah, I’m all right.”

     “Where are you right now?”

     “Uh…The tree line, at the Sector boundary.”

     “Ok, that’s good…” I waited for a response, but none came in for several moments. “Sir.?”

     “Well, listen McCoy, we’re going to send a patrol to get you out of there, ok? Don’t, move!” As if the lieutenant could see me, I nodded swiftly, swallowing my adrenaline. I was about to reply with an acknowledgement of his instructions, when the thump of something heavy and mechanical sounded to my left. I turned to see the wood-stalked rifle roll to a stop at my knees, the ball of the bolt handle sticking up halfway in a loading position…It was Albert’s. A wave of dread overtook me, and I froze in place with fear. I opened my mouth slowly, involuntarily, raising my head with just as much slowness as every muscle in my body tensed up. “McCoy, do you copy?”

     “It’s ok,” was whispered directly behind me as an arm grabbed me around my chest. I jumped, letting out a shout and dropping the device. As I realized that it was only Albert, a wave of relief overtook me. I let out a short, quivering sob. “It’s just me,” Albert whispered shakily, his arm pulling me towards him in a protective grip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I shivered, involuntarily grabbing his arm, still too shaken to stand. We both breathed heavily, swiftly. I looked up at Albert, who, even though kneeling behind me, still towered over me. His face was streaked with red, a sizeable cut on his right temple. Whether he had tripped and fallen while running or received it from a struggle was beyond me. He just sat, gazing out over the grassy hill.

     “Where’s the rover?” I finally murmured.

     “There was no time,” he whispered in a shaky voice. He was clearly terrified – I had never seen him so shaken. It did nothing to comfort me, but at least he was here. “We can’t do anything about it now.” He let out a quick, shaky inhale. “They completely ignored the box. We were lucky to have made it here.” I was still shaken, but I began to relax, releasing my grip on Albert’s arm. Drawing in my legs, which had until now been sprawled out over the dirt, I prepared to raise myself from the ground. But, upon trying to stand, I observed that Albert didn’t budge. In fact, his grip tightened.

     “Albert?” I questioned in a confused voice.

     “I’ve never seen one before,” he sniffed, his voice still shaky. “They won’t let us leave.”

     “What?”

     “They don’t know who we are. There’s nothing we can do.” The words flowed from his mouth as if he were in a trance. Not a word of mine seemed to reach him.

     “Albert, we need to leave, what are you- Gah!” I let out a gasp as a pricking sensation jabbed me in the back. Immediately, the feeling of the painkillers washed over me, and my body relaxed with a tremor.

     “They won’t let us go, they don’t know it’s us,” Albert continued to whisper, almost in a chant.

     “McCoy?” The instrument came to life again – Albert didn’t even acknowledge it.

     “Albert, we need to go…” I muttered weakly, desperately, rolling my head to the side. My head tilted towards the ground, I somehow managed to focus my vision at Albert’s waist. His hand brushed his overcoat from around his bent knee, and I watched as he reached slowly for the sheath knife in his belt. Against the intensifying influence of the drugs, I let in a deep inhale.

     “Allll- Alll-berrr-” I muttered, no longer even able to form a full word. He slid the knife from its sheath, cautiously and slowly, and, with a trembling hand, brought it slowly to my face. I tried to shy away, but I was too weak. All I could do was stare.

     “I’m so sorry,” Albert muttered, nothing but pure fear behind his voice. “I’m truly, terribly sorry…” I watched as the end of the knife crept closer and closer to my eye, gradually engulfing the whole of my vision.