The shrieks rise as the group chasing them enters the settlement. The road is filled with hundreds of screaming people. Ramon knows that night can cause it to seem like there are more than there actually is, however, the village quickly fills with a multitude. He is startled as he watches many from the horde turn from their path and strike his neighbors that came out into the night.

Those standing outside are quickly engulfed by those who were pursuing the Americans. Villagers quickly go down with dark figures surrounding them. Those he’s known all his life, his friends, add screams of pain to the din filling the village. The night turns into chaos. Some turn to their doors and run inside only to be chased by the shrieking horde. Ramon remains standing, confused.

Why are they attacking? Do they think we’re aiding the Americans? And if so, why aren’t they shooting instead of mauling?

His confusion is short-lived though. Watching more taken down, it becomes apparent that the guerillas mean to wipe out the village. The night is filled with shrill screams…pain, frenzy, terror. Pandemonium ensues. Amongst the shrieks comes a wet noise, the sound of flesh being torn from bodies.

The horde of dark shapes draw rapidly closer, racing toward him. Ramon eyes the run-down truck parked in front of his shack. Glancing at those closing in, he knows he won’t be able to get the vehicle started in time. He turns, throws the door to his shanty open, and dashes inside, closing it behind him.

Racing through the main room, he pulls on the string of the solitary light, attempting to turn it off. His fingers slip off the cord without success, causing the light to swing violently and the shadows of the room to dance wildly. Without missing a step, he runs into his bedroom, attempting to hide and pretend that he didn’t see anything. Grabbing a cane knife sitting by the rickety bed, he jumps onto the thin mattress and huddles in the corner.

Why did I have to go outside? Never again.

Holding tightly onto the large blade, he watches the entry. Shadows gyrate through the open doorway, outlined by the swinging bulb in the other room. Shrieks from outside are only partially muffled by the thin walls. He has woken only to step into a nightmare.

Trying to stay silent, a whimper escapes his lips nonetheless as something large slams into the shanty walls, shaking them. The tip of his cane knife quivers from his fright, his fingers aching from his tight grip. Dimly glowing in the middle of the room, the lone light bulb sways in small arcs. The shadow from his knife wavers across the thigh of his dirty jeans. Shrieks from those outside grow louder, pressing against his very essence.

In the midst of the howls, Ramon hears his own panting breath. He feels his skin drawn tight from fear, waiting only for what he feels is the inevitable. Another large objects crashes against the shack, threatening to bring the wall supports down. In the other room, he hears the front door open with a bang.

Shrieks rise with increased intensity. Shadows from the other room dance crazily though the open door of his bedroom.