Operation GLOW

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Jake Gillette has gone missing and no one at Sharrwood Expedition Camp B is talking.

Submitted: December 09, 2012

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Submitted: December 09, 2012

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CONFIDENTIAL- Open Case.

CLASS AA1 ACCESS ONLY.

CODE-NAME ‘GLOW’.

‘Apparently it was Corporal [Jake] Gillette who found it, just lying there.’- Commander Kevin E Bamof of Sharrwood Expedition Camp B at 1402 hours on 09-07-2010.

Gillette is dead and no one at Camp is talking. His body has never been found, but stories persist. Gillette flew a jet plane into the Caribbean Sea after a failed takeoff, exploding upon a half-submerged rock; Gillette drove over the edge of a narrow path cut into the slope of a tall ravine, swerving  to avoid a startled gorilla. On a routine tour of the Sharrwood east of Camp, a ferocious Komodo dragon lunged from the undergrowth and dragged him away, screaming. The Camp’s hangar is missing a F650-Kip jet, along with a quantity of kerosene. A jeep is inexplicably missing. On recent expeditions, human bones have been recovered from the jungle. Smoke and mirrors.

The truth is much simpler: Gillette did find it. He found it fourty kilometres South of Camp, on the home leg of a routine week-long trek into the Sharwoods. As his exploration team exhaustedly skirted a deep ravine, something made him turn back to face the way they had come. He had glimpsed a faint light, far off, deep in the fetid darkness of the pit.

Against all regulations, Gillette slipped away into the undergrowth, waiting for his team to disappear behind a curtain of leaves and vines. He stalked to the edge of the ravine. Without thinking, he blundered down the steep slope through the oppressive darkness, grasping blindly at passing vegetation, desperate to find the glimmer of light.

In the stinking depths of the ravine, he reached back for his bullpup rifle, rammed the stock into his shoulder and flicked on the underbarrel flashlight. Cicadas shrieked piercingly in his ears and black shapes shifted at the edges of his vision. Eyes flickering wildly, he neared the glow, snicked off the safety and stopped.

Lit by the shaking beam of his torch, Jake could make out several bootprints in the thick rotting mud. A number of hired guns had gone missing from Camp, weeks ago. The beam of his torch shook harder and Gillette called out as confidently as his quavering voice would allow, ‘Corporal Gillette here! Identify yourselves!’

He was met with a smothering silence. Frigid fear crept into his bones. His heart stopped hammering in his ears, his hands stopped shaking.  He did not hear himself cry out. Something was with him in the dark pit. He cast his head about wildly, searching for the glow.

And then there was a rushing bright light, a high wind, the scent of roasted almonds and the sound of every tortured soul crying out all at once. Jake’s finger yanked convulsively on the trigger and he tumbled backwards into a yawning cave, hidden by hanging vines and loose shale.

Most nights, a distant glowing figure stands tall amongst the tree-tops of the Sharrwoods, watching the Camp. Nobody has seen it. Gillette is dead and no one at Camp is talking.


© Copyright 2020 KroseKlan. All rights reserved.

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