The Itch

A squadron of twenty made the approach and set down on the thin but smooth designated landing area.

"Perfect execution soldiers. Stow your wing suits carefully as we will using them for departure and as we discussed earlier, there maybe an emergency deployment required," said the commander as he stood before his soldiers. "This is very volatile territory. Reports of nerve gas come in everyday. The atrocities of war are no secret. Be alert.

"Mecklenberg, give us an update on the reports from the mountains," said the commander as he waved the lieutenant forward.

The lieutenant stood before the squadron nervously. "Don't touch anything especially the trees in the mountains. They are rigged to detonate explosively. Touching one could wipe out the whole squad. Stay on the paths and watch where you step.

"We are fairly safe here on this new landing area. There does not seem to be any hazards in place here, but we could be wrong. As the commander said, be alert," concluded the lieutenant.

"Thank you, Mecklenburg. Alpha, Beta, Charlie and Delta leaders get your groups together and proceed south down the peninsula. Depart in order every minute," said the commander. He consulted his timepiece. "Starting at 1900. That's three minutes. Dismissed."

At the same time the terrain changed, it began getting dark. The first explosion occurred, taking out most of three groups. It was followed by a new nerve gas that stunned the remaining of the squadron. The tolls were heavy.

"The bugs are out already," said Beth as she slapped her upper arm and scratched an itch. "Hand me that bug spray, please Bill, before they eat me alive."

"Mecklenburg, can you can hear me? Retreat, retreat."