The cold winds blanketed the jagged pass of that dark hill, the mountains sighed and whistled. The skies were filled with heavy clouds that rumbled after lighting crackled. The dreaded and dirty rain splashed the ashen, graphite ground as the sun shined lightly.

An aircraft looked over the horizon as it approached a clearing. Approaching, like a huge guppy with stubby wings it soared the skies in speeds reaching 200kms per hour.

Carrying sixteen troops of various types, with an extra ton of weight on the side.

A tense moment unnerved Colonel Ussaine as he lit his cigarette. He felt malevolence creep behind him as a spasm escaped his face, making the junior officer right in front of him draw his pistol. But the odd sensation suddenly disappeared as a fat aircraft with ungainly wings started to hover above him. It landed near him, on a landing pad just ten meters away.

The Colonel walked towards the pilot's seat and said: "What the heck do you think you're doing flying this Bulimic fat bird into my base!"

The pilot replied: "Sorry sir! I'm from the 300th Airborne and we pretty well knew how the commissary treats us."

"Just when I thought the S57's were in production. Well tell me what you've got then."

" I've got sixteen troops from the 88th Light infantry sir and some of the requested items and munitions."

" Anything else?"

" Just your weekly report sir. They're interested with those weird things you've found last month sir."

" Wait here for a sec." He looked at his XO and nodded, still with a cold unfeeling grim face he locked dead on the pilot's eyes. The pilot, though wearing a flight mask and a tinted goggle felt that the Colonel knew his Easy going attitude despite being two layers outside him. He felt a tingling sensation climb up his spine.

" There's something hiding 'neath those pin prick trees, is there Metz?"

" Tell the boys in the Lodge that they have some digging to do. And I'm not joking Jamal, some digging to do." The Colonel said still not moving his cold, callous, and weary eyes.

' Digging? Oh no! Not those things!!!' The pilot thought, as his brain crackled in shallow fear.

" Do tell, what else have you found?" Jamal said after regaining his cool.

" Just tell them to dig deeper, deeper than Tartarus." The Colonel said as an aid came with a brief case. One of the crewmen took the case and placed it in a corner where claws of metal gripped it tightly as talons held their prey.

The pilot started the engines and prepared to fly but after looking at his left shoulder the Colonel is still there. He told the Colonel to move as the Aircraft is about to take off when the Colonel grabbed him by the shoulder and said: "Fly only at 700 feet, no more no less." The calmness and direness of the Colonel's attitude made him even the more crankier, he considered the option but found it unfeasible and so he brushed it off as the four engines pushed his aircraft into the air.

30 minutes into the Flight and all hell broke loose. The inbuilt radar detected two hostiles to their six tailing them. The copilot sent flares but to no avail until an exploding bullet scratched the glass canopy of the cockpit. Utilizing evasive maneuvers, the pilot cursed under his breath barely making a sound in the channel. He looked at the altmeter and noted: 890 ft. Looking around he found a mount only 1000 feet in height, and it is barren, bald as a baby and made of pure graphite.

" Taking full control." He said calmly as his copilot pressed a few buttons and maneuvered straight at the Pencil mountain. 850... 830...790...740...710...700 feet.

*****

An hour later....

" Hotbase 385 this is Spider, Come in. Hotbase 385 this is Spider please come in."

" Spider this is Hotbase, what's your status?"

" We're approximately 80 meters away from the objective. Awaiting further orders?"

A man slowly approached a rock, with as little witty intuition and imagination possible he just simply took off his mask, took a crumpled cigarette, lit it, took off his helmet and placed a tilted cap in place. And as if by some unholy and uncivilized joke, he lifted his entire leg by at least 90 degrees in the sky's favor and kicked the top portion of the rock softly. The rock tilted, revealing to be a man in mountain camo, and just as he turned a 180 degrees clockwise he was greeted by the sight of the stereotypical grumpy old man as the man behind him curled his entire face into wrinkles and said: " Captain says bring back the old rock!" by which the camo soldier jerked back like a cat seeing a cucumber materialize behind him. Albeit in a far less explosive manner.

" Oh for the love of your griefstricken mother! You're not a Bearded Frinker!" he spoke in a manner that mimicked the disturbed nature of a whisper and the disruption of striking blade.

" Captains orders, no complaints."

" Fine." He said collected as he tracked the path towards their hidden camp. 'Though I do swear at just how those bureaucrats forgot to send you to the misfit regiments!'

' If only you sucked at shooting the enemy at a distance I'd personally report it.' His head repeated an age old complaint until he just let go with a deep breath and sighed.

Getting close to the cave he navigated a series of mines that could've removed his legs entirely in a very silent manner. Silent yet also expensive, that they are dug after a mission to be reused elsewhere. After the last obstacle concerning a spring trap with a dozen stalactites he approched the captain as he was just peeling a tuber and drinking from his flask.

" Captain? Anything I need to know?"

" Yes, fancy me this. How did Martin give you my order today?"

" Like a boatload of drunk herbivores from Franconia." He said in a monotonous manner with a slight hint of irritation that his commander noticed.

" I admit, he needs some of his pool time. And a few days eating his mother's peas and pies." The Captain replied as if he too wanted some time at home.

" Sir, Operation Gray 85 is going to happen in the next three hours. Any orders?" The soldier asked without passion, feeling, nor intent just pure instinct.

" Oh yes, I've already sent your Lieutenant to clear a path a few minutes ago. And as for you Corporal, do check on Martin and see if hes still up and running. I saw him light a cigarette a few minutes ago."

He gave a salute and left. He went past the obstacles and even managed to dispatch a single zombie that blocked his way. The rotting bugger found out that going solo was such a bad idea as his head rolled down the mountain and settled in a rocky pit as he was trying to get his way with a few thorny vines. But that didn't bother Corporal Massena, dispatching zombies with a single shot from his 7.95x40 silenced rifle was already a daily task for him. What he saw in front of him as he approached his last known position was whas normaly breaks his cool.

Private First Class Gregory Martin of the 2nd Light Hunters, cleaning his rifle with a rug out of nowhere trying to clean himself as well from dark matter surrounded by no less than 50 of the undead all with clean bullet holes from his pistol. That is what unfortunately made him puke with a Gasmask in his face, and just the smell of it made him fall.