The Underworld : Haunted Shores (Part II)

Colonel McMillan stood his ground, boots braced against the stinking sands around him in anticipation of the upcoming battle. Futher down the bloody coast, the swarm of demons charged towards the marines beneath the blood-red sky.
"Let them get a little closer," He called. "Then open up."
At his side, Kalliope, Wilson and Hendry fanned out, forming a broad line for maximum coverage. McMillan and Hendry, with their plasma-stream cannons, stood at each end of the human barrier, ready to form a deadly energy crossfire. Hendry, checking the intensity settings on his rifle, gave a fleeting glance over at the Colonel.
"Shouldn't we use the BFG? We could take out the first few waves in one blast."
McMillan's gaze never wavered from the attackers. "And vapourise the rest of us? Use your head, Corporal. These things are enough", he said, nodding towards the rifles. "Besides, we've got enough charge on that thing for one more shot. I don't wanna fuck around swapping energy packs - we haven't got the luxury of time. So we use the BFG as a last resort. Period."
Hendry nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to the approaching demons.
Wilson felt sweat trickling down his forehead, collecting on the bridge of his nose. He fixed his stare along the sights of his SPAS, chambering a round swiftly and gazing once more at the Biblical horde rushing headlong to meet them.
Just as well i kept the crucifix, he thought idly. Though i don't think God's here. This is the Other Place.
Easing his finger ever-tighter around the trigger, McMillan braced the weapon against his bicep. "A little closer," He muttered. "just a little closer".
The demons were less that a hundred feet away.
"Now!"

Hendry's finger jerked reflexively over the trigger at McMillan's command. The muzzle of his plasma rifle shuddered for a moment before unleashing a white-hot stream of plasma bolts. The first soared wide as the weapon jerked beneath him. Pulling it further into his arm, he bought the hypnotic volleys veering down - where they began to plough into the hordes. The first bursts to hit their target demons exploded in a shower of sparks and eletrical tendrils, leaving blackened marks on the leathery pink hides as the Hellish beasts crashed to the ground amid their spasms. The creatures behind stumbled over their brethren corpses, but kept on going.
The handywork of Wilson and Kalliope was no less impressive, proceeding with the smooth efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Kalliope unleashed both shotgun rounds into charging demons, the shells smashing through skin and bone and exiting amid a torrent of mangled crimson chunks. Wilson stepped in to cover as she grabbed another pair of shells, his SPAS speaking loudly as it tore into demon hide and created an obstacle of dripping corpses. Slamming her combat shotgun shut, Kalliope opened up once more.
The dual plasma streams of Hendry and McMillan converged, sweeping left to right and scorching all in their path. Their numbers thinning out, the demons began to split up - either an extremely well-developed instinct, or further evidence of a controlling mind - with each group stampeding towards the source of the seperate plasma streams.
Intelligence, rather than instinct, presided with the mortals; Wilson paired with Hendry, while Kalliope moved to McMillan's side to bring down the offenders. The Colonel made a brief count of twenty creatures. If we were in close-quarters, we wouldn't stand a chance, he thought morosely.
His idle musings were nearly the end of him.
A particularly large demon clambered atop the backs of the nearest creatures, launching itself forward in a leap-frog jump. The Colonel saw the pink skin and the flash of fangs only too late - an instant later, it was on him. He crashed to the ground under its weight, his plasma rifle flung wide as he hit the dirt while Kalliope dived to one side in blind panic. She landed hard on her bad shoulder, seeing stars as the pain jolted through her body.
With a final burst of plasma, the last few demons were torn from their clawed feet, landing several feet behind. Wilson unloaded a few more shells into the corpses to ensure that they stayed that way, reflexively reaching into his fatigue pockets for a reload. His brow furrowed as his fingers found only fabric; all out.
"That's the last of them." Hendry commented, gingerly touching the plasma-rifles barrel. Still cool, he thought admirably.
"That's the last of me, too." Wilson sighed, gesturing to his SPAS. "All out."
Hendry began to reply as he turned round - and saw his comrades.
McMillan fought wildly with his attacker, repeatedly slamming the side of his forearm into the reptillian hide - to no avail.
Hendry's weapon snapped up as he zeroed in on the demon - and was just as quickly waved down by Wilson.
"You wanna fry the Colonel?" He reasoned. "We need to get him clear."
McMillan's forearm swung towards the demon one last time - and was snatched in the beasts maw, six-inch fangs burying themselves into his skin. The Colonel's mouth gaped open in a gutteral scream as he thrashed about beneath the creature in a desperate attempt for his life.
Gloved hands suddenly reached around the beast, dragging the bulky frame away from their superior - yet the fangs held strong. With a spurt of crimson fluid, the demon came away, flung backwards by Wilson as Hendry bought up his plasma rifle and pulled the trigger, frying the creature within a matter of moments. His eyes narrowed as he examined the blackened corpse - then widened in shock when he saw the shape still held within its jaws.
"Where the fuck's his arm?" Wilson yelled from behind.
Hendry spun around, his mind reeling with the consequences. His arm.
McMillan lay still on his back, his fatigues soaked in red fluid. The Corporal's attention, however, was riveted to the the gory stump at his shoulder. Blood pooled beneath, turning the sand into a stinking mud as Wilson gingerly lifted the Colonel's torso from the ground. He shook his head in dismay, his hands trembling as he reached towards his jugular.
"What happened?" Kalliope muttered from behind them, rubbing her arm absently as she shouldered her way between her comrades. Her step faltered as she saw McMillan.
Wilson felt round intently for a pulse, sweating in terror rather than just panic. If they lost their only guide in this God-forsaken place...
"At ease, marine" Came a soft croak. "I'm not dead yet."

Great work, but umm, what happened to the BFG they found two chapters back? Have I forgotten something?

Ah; no, you've forgotton nothing... i have :).

I'd originally intended to write a scene in which Hendry considers using the BFG - but decides against it because of the risk of killing his comrades.
Kalliope used it previously because McMillan and Hendry were already diving for cover in the entrance chamber of the Spiderdemon's lair.

I'll edit it shortly, but thanks for pointing it out :)
Hope the rest of this piece was fun to read.

Ok, i've added the missing BFG reference early on in this part. Hope it reads a little better now. :)

You're right, it makes more sense now :-)

Hmm, I wonder if the doomguy has got old since he lets a demon tear off his arm. Keeping his previous hellish experiences in mind, I would've thought that a guy with his experience could handle a small horde of freaks without too much trouble. Oh well.

Yep, he's supposed to be feeling the strain. Plus he's starting to get used to relying on his teammates - this experience will leave him relying on nobody but himself.

Don't mourn for his arm just yet, though. There's more suprises in store.