Monster Gauntlet by Paul Emil Page A

breath. I kept staring at the spot, as if expecting more monsters to surface. None did. What just happened? Did someone around here have a canon? I looked at the castle. Did we have some type of backup? Maybe the monster triggered a mine, or self-destructed, or...
    Marine laid on his back, coughing. Then, after a moment, he muttered, “I knew the grenade would come in useful.” 
    Marine had discarded his jacket in the loch like a selkie shedding her seal skin. His T-shirt was thrashed like a punk’s, but unlike a poser, beneath his torn shirt were bloody gashes.
    “Oh God, Marine.”
    He sat up and I helped him remove his shirt. I momentarily admired how in-shape he was. But my eyes were commandeered by the groups red lines running across his arms and torso. Most of the gashes were bleeding, but I didn’t see any spurting blood, which was a good sign. That meant no major blood vessels had been severed. That’s about all I knew about first aid though.
    I also knew that you were supposed to keep a person warm. I peeled off my jacket and gave it to Marine. He nodded and took it, also understanding the importance.
    I simply said, “We’re going to need that med-kit.”
    “It’s not bad,” he said. “Really.”
    He was shivering badly. I looked around and said, “We need to find shelter,” I said. “We need to stop some place and make a fire. We need to ...”
    I looked at the stone bridge in the distance leading to the castle. There were large arches underneath it. I thought I saw movement over there, something from the corner of my eye. I stared. The only movement came from the clouds overhead, their mirrored reflections on the water of the loch, and the water itself. All moved swiftly and silently, as if they too were eager to speed past this scene of horror.
    I told myself that maybe I was seeing things, or it was a bird or something. I was just starting to turn my head when ... There!
    A shadow seemed to separate from the darkness under a large arch in the middle of the bridge. Then in merged back into the blackness where it had come from.
    I froze. For several minutes, nothing happened. Then I saw it (or thought I saw it) again. If I had blinked I would have missed it.
    Marine was on the ground, asleep.
    I put my hands on him and shook him.
    He jolted with a shout.
    His hands were on me, and I suddenly realized I had put myself in danger by startling him like that. I never should have let him nod off.
    I saw the panic and confusion in his eyes and I started taking fast.
    “Marine! Marine! It’s me!”
    I saw the recognition return and felt relieved ... a little. Then my own panic was back.
    “Marine,” I said, quieter this time, as if I were afraid somebody or something might hear. “We’ve got to go.”
    “What?”
    “We’ve got to go now.”
    “The castle ...”
    “No,” I said with the confidence that comes from certainty. “We have a situation. There’s a troll or something under the bridge. We’d have a problem before we even got there. The castle’s out. We’ve got to move. Now.”
    Dutifully, Marine got to his feet.
    “So, what’s the plan?”
    I looked at the castle. I looked all around me. I looked in the direction we’d come from, seeing the opening to the valley, the tree lines on either side of it, and off to the right, on a hill, the tower.
    I thought quickly.
    “Can you walk?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’re going to the tower.”
    Marine gave me a look of disappointment that hurt me more than I thought it would. It didn’t need that, but I wasn’t surprised. I was disappointed enough in myself.
    “It’s about a kilometer back,” I said, guessing.
    Marine looked at the bridge.
    “No,” I said. “It’s a trap.”
    I looked at Marine, soaking wet, shivering, and bleeding.
    “I ... I fucked up. I ... Bear was right. I should have left that thing on the cross. I never should have split up the group. We were safer together.”
    I was almost waiting for Marine to say, “You