Estimated reading time — 13 minutes

“Base Camp this is Hunter Two-One Actual. Still no sign of any Feral activity, over, or Dingo Two.” “This is Base Camp, copy that. ISR’s got you cleared as well.” Mike lowered his hand from the radio and turned to us. “Let’s keep moving. We gotta locate Dingo Two.” I nodded and gestured to the rest of the team to keep moving. Things have changed since our last op. Our ODA was temporarily disbanded, with a lot of us either retiring or being reassigned to other teams. Mike, KJ, and I were reassigned to a special task force created for counter-Feral operations. Codenamed Hunter, we were now a classified provisional unit that would deploy anywhere in the United States to take down the Ferals wherever they showed up. Over the past several months we’ve deployed to Wyoming, Florida, California, and Arizona. But this time, we weren’t in the United States at all. About a few weeks ago, our squad, Hunter Two-One, was deployed to Australia for a joint training operation with Australia’s Special Air Service Regiment, who was also going through a cryptid problem.

Over the past couple of months, the Australian outback had experienced a rise in activity, including what they believed to be Feral People, similar to the creatures we dealt with in the United States. Hunter Two’s commanding officer, Kirk, sent our squad to Australia to assist the Aussie’s special operations unit codenamed Dingo. By the time we got there, Dingo had already lost a few guys on ops, and were more than accepting of our help if it meant they could kill these things easier. That led to now, where Hunter Two-One and Dingo had gone out to track a pack of Ferals that had killed a handful of civilians who were backpacking out there. Our squad consisted of seven people: Mike Brandt, our team sergeant from my previous ODA on Third Group; Daniel Villanueva, a SEAL from DEVGRU; Joel Mann, a Delta operator; Angel Ramirez, a MARSOC marine; myself, Luke Roman, a green beret who served with Kirk and Mike; Kyle James “KJ” Hood, who served on our ODA; Richard Payne, an Army Ranger from the Regimental Reconnaissance Company. KJ and I were machine gunners, and Payne was our sniper. Coming with us was Dingo One, led by Captain Tom Murch, and consisting of about fourteen guys. Currently, we lost contact with Dingo Two, the second team that was with us, and were now trying to push to their last known location.

“Dingo Two Actual, this is Hunter Two-One, what’s your POS, over?” There was no response. Mike turned to Captain Murch, who spoke on his radio. “Dingo Two Actual this is Dingo One, do you copy?” Still no response. Murch sighed. “Fuck…” “Payne, you got eyes on anything?” “Negative. I got nothing.” I scanned the terrain in front of me through my NVGs, but didn’t see any sign of any animals or cryptids.

“Hold here,” hissed Mike. Our unit stopped and took a knee. “What do you got?” Villanueva whispered. Mike took aim through his HK416, but didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “I got movement, one o’ clock. Something’s behind the bushes over there. “ I grabbed my Mk48 Mod 0 and got ready. Up ahead I could see a pair of small lights hovering near some bushes, just like Mike said. Mike fired a couple of rounds, and we heard a loud squeal, just like the sounds the Ferals back home did. “There’s one,” Mann said. “Move up. Murch hold your men here.” “Roger that.” Our squad pushed up towards the body to confirm it was a Feral. The creature was a lean humanoid, with an animal skull on its head, a loincloth sewn out of something we couldn’t make out, with a spear in its right hand. “That’s a Feral all right,” said KJ. Ramirez cautiously turned over the body, showing strange markings on its back and shoulders. “Are those tattoos?” I asked. Ramirez shrugged. “Could be. Doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen.” “They look tribal,” pointed out Mann, “Not that I know what that really looks like of course.”

“Have any other Ferals had these?” KJ asked. Mike shook his head. “Not that we know of. Usually we never get this close to look at ‘em. Mike got on comms. “Base Camp this is Hunter Two-One Actual, we got a dead Feral over here. We got some markings on this thing that you may want to take a look at.” “Copy Two-One, send an image.” “Roger that. Ramirez, get an image of the Ferals’ markings.” Ramirez pulled out his small camera and took a picture. “Base Camp, we’re sending an image your way.” As Ramirez went to send it, the Feral suddenly came screeching to life. “Oh shit!” Ramirez yelled, staggering back. The Feral let out a howl into the night sky, echoing for miles. Mike put several more rounds into it, and it fell silent. “Is it dead?” asked Mann. Mike stepped back. “Luke. Blast ‘em.” I raised the Mk48 and fired a quick burst, tearing through the skull splitting open its head. “Definitely dead now.”

Suddenly, we heard gunfire behind us, where Dingo One was positioned. “Hunter Two-One, this is Payne. Dingo One is taking heavy contact from multiple Ferals! I count ten plus. It looks like they were in covered positions.” “Son a bitch!” growled Mike, “Copy that, we’re doubling back.” He turned to us. “Let’s move!” We ran back, where we could see gunfire lighting up the sky, along with a couple of explosions from grenades shaking the ground. “How did we miss them?” asked Villanueva. “They must’ve camouflaged themselves somehow,” answered Mike, “Probably why ISR didn’t pick them up. It was a fucking trap!” “Incoming!” KJ shouted. I looked up to see a flurry of arrows and spears soaring through the air on our position. We took cover, the projectiles whizzing past us. Somehow, by sheer luck, nothing hit us. We turned to see even more Ferals emerging from hiding spots in the ground and in the trees. They were carrying bow and arrows, as well as various other weapons. I could see some of them wearing vegetation on their bodies, almost like ghillie suits. I immediately began firing, laying down suppressive fire with KJ. This gave the rest of them enough time to move out of the line of fire. In the distance I could hear the cracks of Payne’s sniper rifle going off, and through my NVGs I saw at least three crumple to the ground with headshots. “Reloading!” I called out, setting my weapon down to reload it. I removed the empty belt box and replaced it with another one, just as an arrow struck me in the helmet. I fell backwards just as another one flew over my head. “Luke!” shouted KJ, “You good?” “Yeah! Just got my helmet!” I rose to my feet and picked up my weapon. “All right we gotta move!” We rushed back to where Mike and the others were, the bodies of at least two Ferals laying around them. The Ferals, just like the other one, had markings on their back and shoulders, with animal skulls, albeit a little bit different than the other one. Suddenly, there was a loud howl, even louder than the screech let out by the first one that we killed. Things fell silent, and suddenly, through our night vision, the Ferals retreated back into the darkness.

“Well that’s rare,” Ramirez said, “They never do that.” “Come on. Let’s rejoin Dingo.” When we got back, the team was in pieces. We counted two KIAs, and five wounded. “Fuck!” snapped Murch, “Buggers got us good. Just came out of the fucking ground!” “Ferals like to camouflage. Sometimes if they know a military presence is in the area, they’ll set up ambush points like these,” explained Mike, taking a look at the scene around us. “Base Camp this is Hunter Two One Actual, we’ve got multiple casualties from Dingo. Requesting CASEVAC, over.” “Copy Two-One. Be advised, CASEVAC is about thirty mikes out. That’ll slow you guys down, are you cleared to continue the mission?” Mike turned to the rest of us. “CASEVAC is thirty mikes out. Base Camp wants to know if we’re able to continue.” “We’re good,” said Villanueva, which we all nodded in agreement to. “Captain, are you guys still in the fight?” Murch nodded. “Yeah mate. We’re good to go.” “All right, here’s what we’ll do. Two men will stay with the wounded, the rest of us will proceed to Dingo Two.” “I’ll stay,” said KJ. “I’ll stay too,” said Mann, “I’ll coordinate for CASEVAC.” Mike nodded. “All right everyone else, on me. Payne, you too.” Once Payne came back down from his position, we moved on.

KJ and Mann remained with the casualties and in the meantime we were still unable to reach Dingo Two. We soon began making our way through thicker brush, with the trees blocking the moonlight. “Dingo Two Actual, come in. Dingo Two Actual are you there?” Ramirez called on the radio for the hundredth time. “Look I don’t want to be that guy here,” said Payne, “But I think it is safe to say that Dingo Two might not be in the best of conditions.” Murch glared at Payne, who just shrugged. “What, it’s true. No contact with an entire platoon for how long now? Seems to me like they’re fucked.” “Enough, Jack,” said Mike, “Until we prove otherwise, Dingo Two is active and in trouble. No man gets left behind.” After we walked a little further, we heard a loud roar, one that shook even the trees. “What the hell?” I exclaimed softly. “Was that a Feral?” asked Ramirez. I looked at Murch, who along with the rest of his men, were now tense. “No mate that ain’t a Feral.” “Then what is it?” I asked. “Ferals ain’t the only creature out here, mate,” said Murch, “We need to stay sharp.” “What other creatures are there?” asked Villanueva.

We froze again as another roar echoed in the distance, this time a little bit closer. “Out here, it would be the Yowie,” answered Murch. “The fuck is the Yowie?” “It’s like your bigfoot. About 3 meters tall, ape-like. Aggressive buggers. If the Ferals are in the same territory as the Yowie, we may be looking at a turf war out here.” “Well that’s just great,” Villanueva muttered. “Hunter Two-One this is Base Camp. Be advised we’re picking up massive signatures at your 3 o’ clock. About twenty klicks out and closing in fast.” “Solid copy, Base Camp.” The roaring grew louder, and this time we heard heavy thudding, and the trees began shifting, with branches snapping. “We got incoming boys,” Payne said. A few seconds later, a trio of massive, muscular, ape-like creatures broke through the treeline with a terrifying speed and aggression.

I let loose with my Mk48, but that barely stopped them as they ran right through us. One of the Aussies got swatted like a fly, sending him flying against a tree with a sickening crack. “Aim for the head and upper body!” shouted Murch as we laid down intense fire. One of the Yowies roared and flung a large branch at us. I ducked and moved back as the same Yowie came back at us. “Firing!” shouted Ramirez, as a 40mm grenade impacted its chest. The Yowie howled and fell back, a large smoking hole in the right side. It fell back, dead as the other two picked up Villanueva. I aimed for its lower body, firing the last of the rounds from the belt. The Yowie fell to its knees, and turned to me angrily, tossing him aside. “Shit!” I removed the empty belt box, and tried to grab another one but the Yowie was rushing me faster than I could pull the belt box out. A single round struck its head, taking out one of its eyes. It fell back, roaring in pain. I looked to see Payne firing another round from his SR-25. I took the opportunity and reloaded, leaving me with only one belt box left. The Yowie was finished off by another round to the dome. The last one retreated back into the woods, but not before letting out one more roar before retreating back into the forest.

“Base Camp we just dropped two cryptids, Aussies are calling them the Yowie. Any more of them on ISR?” “Negative, Two-One. It looked like it could be a scouting party.” “This is KJ. All casualties have been successfully evacuated. Negative contact with Ferals.” “Copy that, KJ.” Mike sighed. “Down to twelve men.” “Eleven,” said one of the Aussies, kneeling next to one of their fallen, “We lost Pope.” Mike went back to comms. “Base Camp be advised, we have another casualty, securing him for evac now.” “Mike,” I said, “We need to turn around. The Aussies are down a platoon and a half, KJ and Joel are going back to base, it could be a while before they get back. I say we call it quits.” “He’s right, man,” said Ramirez, “We’re outgunned. If you ask me it was a mistake for Command to split our teams up. Dingo Two should’ve stayed with us from the start.” “Like hell we’re turning back,” snapped Murch, “Those are my men out there, and we aren’t leaving without at least retrieving their bodies!”

Mike looked down as he tried to make a decision. “The way I see it,” said Villanueva, “We call for evac, we get out of here, and come back with a bigger force. That way we’ll be prepared for both the Yowie and the Ferals.” Mike looked at us. “How are we on ammo?” “I’m low,” I answered, “But Ramirez should have some extra ammo.” “I got enough for now,” said Ramirez. “Same,” said Villanueva. “So do I,” said Payne, switching to his M4A1. Mike turned to Captain Murch and his men who said the same thing. “Oh we got more than enough mate,” said Murch, “We’re not leaving until we at least get the tags of Dingo Two.” Mike nodded. “All right, here’s what we’ll do: We’ll continue searching for the second team for a little bit longer. If we’re too deep into enemy territory and we still haven’t found them, we’ll request exfil and come back with a bigger strike force.” “Sounds good to us,” said Murch, to which his men nodded in agreement. Mike looked at the rest of us, who shrugged. “All right,” I sighed, “Let’s do this.”

We continued moving, and our team began sweeping the woods once again, walking near a river. “Hey, check this,” said Ramirez. He had his NVGs up, and was using his tactical flashlight. I raised mine and went white light as well. It was blood that trickled further down. “We got blood,” I called, and the others gathered around. “Let’s follow it, move upstream. It could lead us to them.” We followed the blood in the water further upstream and soon we saw what looked like bodies come into view. “Got something up ahead. Base Camp, are you seeing this?” “Affirmative, Two-One.”

The bodies were a mix of humans and Ferals. The men of Dingo Two lay sprawled by the riverside, having been ripped to shreds. I knelt down to inspect one of the SAS men, who was missing his legs and had a spear in his chest. I pulled the tags off the man: Staff Sergeant Patrick Williams. We pulled the tags off of all the men we found, which was about ten in total. Four men were missing, though we suspected they were dead when we found the head of one of them, laying further away. Mike and Villanueva were inspecting the bodies of the Ferals. “Looks like they were ambushed,” I heard him say, “Both groups were engaging, and they came through and killed ‘em all.” “You mean the Yowie?” I asked. Mike nodded. As he leaned closer, the Feral suddenly came to life. It’s wild eyes glowed even brighter without the skull on its head, and it screamed in its face, choking Mike with its bare hands. Villanueva pulled his pistol and shot it in the head. Another Feral attacked me as well, rising from the ground and jumping on me. I held its jaws back, desperate to keep it from tearing my throat out. I wrestled it to the ground, striking it in the face. I pulled out my pistol and fired three rounds into its head.

Damned Ferals were playing dead, using the bodies of their dead to hide and have us let our guard down. We opened fire at the Ferals as the surviving ones picked up some weapons. But we outnumbered them, and we dropped them. “Ok we gotta move!” said Mike, “Base Camp this is Hunter Two-One Actual, we’ve located Dingo Two, zero survivors. We engaged a pack of ferals. Requesting immediate evac, over.” “Roger that Two-One. Evac is inbound to a clearing about fifteen klicks south of your position, proceed there and hold position, over.” “Copy that, Base Camp. Moving to clearing, over.”

The familiar roaring of the Yowie echoed into the night sky, once again causing the trees to shake. “Run!” shouted Mike. We began booking it in formation, with myself and one of the Aussies, Sergeant Cameron Smith, laid down fire with the machine guns. Smith went prone and covered us with his FN Minimi as a small pack of Yowie chased us, carrying rocks and spears that they made themselves. One of the Yowies went down, but the rest ducked for cover behind the trees, using them for cover. “Move!” I shouted, standing up and following the others. Smith picked up his Minimi and followed me. Payne and Ramirez covered us with their M4A1s. We could feel the Yowies hot on our trail, their grunts and growls getting closer. I heard Payne scream and turned to see the Yowie grabbing him and tearing him in half, his blood and guts pouring onto its mouth and upper body. “Fuck!” We finally made it to the clearing and dug in. “We lost Payne!” “Motherfuckers!”

The Yowies also dug in, and we continued firing, focused on pinning the creatures down rather than taking them out like the Ferals. Even through our night vision, it was difficult to see them. They used the trees effectively, blending in with the night and moving low with the shadows. While the tracer rounds briefly illuminated them, it wasn’t enough. “Base Camp this is Hunter Two-One, we are surrounded by cryptids, where the hell is our evac?!” “Hunter Two-One they are inbound, QRF is in tow to pull you guys out! Just hang in there.” “Hang in there, she says!” shouted Ramirez sarcastically. A rock the size of a basketball whizzed through the air and decapitated Captain Murch, leaving only his body and a bloody stump where his head once was. “Shit! Take cover!” Rocks flew overhead like bullets, and struck like cannonballs. “Goddamn!” I yelled, taking cover. “Well boys, I think this is it!” said Villanueva. “Like hell it is!” snapped Mike. We briefly raised our heads and saw the looming figures of the Yowie getting closer. I fired a short burst from the Mk48, and one of the creatures flinched and fell to its knees. Their glowing yellow eyes bore through us, filled with murderous intent to tear us to shreds.

The Yowie let out a collective roar, almost that of victory. They knew they had us cornered. We looked around and saw more figures appearing around us. It looked like it really was over. Suddenly, bullets came from the air and tore some of them to shreds. “Look!” shouted Ramirez. I looked up and saw the glorious sight of our QRF arriving to pick us up. Machine gun fire from the Black Birds rained down a hailstorm of bullets that forced the Yowie to retreat. Several of the birds landed, and the other members of Dingo got out and laid down cover fire while we climbed in. KJ and Mann were waiting for us when we climbed in. “You didn’t think we stay behind, did you?” KJ said with a grin. “Never thought that for a second!” replied Mike, shaking KJ’s hand. “Where’s Richie?” asked Mann. I looked at him and shook my head. “Gone. Fucking things ripped him in half.” Mann and KJ’s grins faded and we fell silent on the way back.

When we landed, the KIAs were already in body bags, and our wounded were being treated by medical teams. The other members of Dingo were also back at base, a demoralizing look on all their faces. Kirk and one of our logistics specialists, Maya Flores, were talking to an Australian officer. “Oh great, cake-eaters already on this one,” said Villanueva. We set our stuff down as the reality of our situation sunk in. We lost Payne, and over a dozen Australian commandos. An entire platoon was gone, putting them down to only two teams. Kirk walked back over to us. “Gentlemen, sorry about Richie. You boys took a hell of a hit out there.” We said nothing. “We’ve been called back. They need us back in the States. California’s got a major Feral population that we’re preparing to take down.” “Just like that, huh?” I scoffed, “All of this and we can’t even finish the job here.” Kirk shook his head.

“I know, it’s bullshit. Especially with the intel you’ve provided. We have reason to believe that a new tribe of Ferals is emerging in Australia, and are currently in conflict with the Yowie, a sasquatch species that also lives in this area. It’s believed that there is a turf war between these creatures.” “So we’re not doing anything about it?” asked Villanueva, “We spent all this time training these guys and we just went through hell with them, and now what we’re just leaving. Saying ‘fuck you, we’re out?’” “Again, I don’t like it either, it’s just how it is.” When we dispersed, I walked over to a commando who was standing over the two KIAs. “I’m sorry man,” I said. The commando nodded. “It’s all bullshit. We had warned Command even prior to your arrival that the cryptid problem was getting worse. But rather than give us more gear and manpower, they just told us to train better. Figure it out on our own.” “I shook my head. “You’re right. It is bullshit. Damned cake eaters telling us how to fight things that they’ve never fought themselves. War never changes I guess.” “The truth is, if the fucking government led us, we could take these things down no problem. It makes you wonder: Why won’t they let us?”

As he walked over to join the rest of Dingo, I thought the same thing. Why wouldn’t they let us just end the threat? But then I remembered what Kirk had told me a while ago: It’s above our fucking pay grades.

Credit: GhostShogun28

Please note the author of this Creepypasta does NOT give permission for it to be reproduced in any other medium