text: [Themes: horror, historical]
  
  It takes hours to trudge back to the river, which is now stagnant and cloudy. You caution your men not to fill their canteens from it and continue along the river bank. It is late afternoon when you find something of interest.
  
  After walking around five miles, you find a rickety wooden bridge across a narrow part of the river. The jungle is incredibly thick here, so you can't imagine a village to be nearby. But the possibility is there.
  
  The Lieutenant inspects the bridge. "No more than a single man could walk across this. It might have been build by Viet Cong- there's no guarantee nearby villagers made it."
  
  Your men are disappointed by the news. Bronski interjects, saying, "We should still explore the area. If we can find a village, then we can find help!"
  
  The Lieutenant shoots back. "Stop with your prattling, Corporal Bronski. We are not going back into the thick of the jungle to get massacred by whatever's inside that mist. I spotted a large hill while we were walking a mile back. We should get on top and then look for villages or other landmarks. If we find nothing, we can still signal friendly aircraft with flares. I know we haven't heard a single helicopter around here for a while, but one surely one will see us at that height.
  
  "Wait!" You turn to see Lance Corporal Simmons, the scarred machine-gunner, speak out. "If there is a village nearby, then we could wait by this river for someone from the village to come here. We'll just stay for a day, and then keep going if no one comes."
  
  It's not a bad idea, but staying an extra day might be fatal considering that you're running out of food quickly. You were planning to find a defensible position for the night, which the bridge would not provide. However, if you can find a villager, then the extra risk could be worth it.
  
  > explore the Area for a Village
  "Bronski's right," you say. "Who knows what will happen to us if stay here or keep moving on. Our only chance to stay alive and find help is to search for a village."
  
  Corporal Bronski looks at you, nodding his head while the Lieutenant scowls, "I'm in fucking charge here! We march to the hill, not pursue any fantasy in the forest."
  
  "I'm with Johnny," Bronski says. "Who else?" Your men shout in assent.
  
  "No, these are my orders. We go to the hill! I could court-martial you, Sergeant."
  
  Lance Corporal Simmons walks up, his machine-gun in his arms. "Lieutenant? I'd think you're hard-pressed to do that out here."
  
  Your men form a circle around the Lieutenant, who turns around, surprised at the change of events. His hands move to his pistol holster, but your men draw their rifles on him, forcing him to freeze. He is disarmed and handcuffed by your men, as he shouts a string of profanities out at you. You chuckle.
  
  "That's behavior quite unbecoming of an officer."
  
  "You'll lead us to death, Sergeant!"
  
  You divide the platoon into halves to search both sides of the river bank. You assign Bronski to lead one half so you can keep an eye on the Lieutenant, who you've forced to gag to prevent him from yelling. Your men fan out into the jungle, using machetes to slash through heavy vines and undergrowth. After hours of heavy exertion, you are soaked in sweat. You are almost ready to call it quits as the sun falls when one of your men points something out.
  
  "Hey Sarge, there are some strange-looking trees over there."
  
  You take out your binoculars and get a closer look. No, they aren't trees at all, but a section of a tall wooden palisade! A large wall made from sharpened tree trunks, whoever built it means business. You spread the word that a man-made structure, possibly a village, has been found. Your men cheer at the news despite being exhausted. You fire a flare into the sky to signal Bronski's squad to come over.
  
  However, the jungle falls suddenly silent. You hear soft footsteps all around you as the mist returns.
  
  "Shit! We've got to get to the village!" yells a private. Figures began appearing at the edge of the mist, but you know that Bronski's squad is still out there. Should you leave him behind to run to the village, or regroup and fight?
  
  > run to the village
  No, you've made it so far, and you won't give everything up to throw away your life. You might not have been honest with yourself, but all this time, your decisions have been about your personal survival.
  
  "Run to the village! Get moving!" you say, prodding your men forward. The mist thickens, and the shadows of the dead return. The mangled bodies of the Viet Cong you've killed approach you with rusty blades; their glowing orange eyes and blotted faces are identical to the Green Beret from last night.
  
  A private briefly stops to fire a burst into the nearest Viet Cong, but it soaks up the bullets and continues shambling.
  
  "How can they do that?" he gasps, his fear turned to despair. He halts in place, forcing you to drag him with you.
  
  Your slower men are overtaken by the dead Viet Cong, sliced to death by their knives. Their screams force the rest of your squad to push harder and faster until you finally arrive at the gate of the village.
  
  "Open up! Please, we're going to die out here!" your men yell, battering the sturdy wooden gate with their rifles. You can hear someone talking in Vietnamese inside the gate, but nothing happens. The dead Viet Cong finish off your slower men and now advance towards you.
  
  "Use this!" Simmons hands you a satchel charge, used to blow down doors and obstacles. Quickly, you set it up against the gate and run for cover. An explosion rocks the wooden palisade, the settled dust revealing a solid hole inside the gate. Your men rush inside to the sound of screaming Vietnamese girls, pushing past villagers scrambling to repair the hole. You take in your surroundings.
  
  The village is made of mud-covered buildings that could hardly even qualify as shacks. However, a single sturdy concrete compound starkly stands out among the rest. You realize the significance of this and yell out.
  
  "This is a fucking Viet Cong stronghold. There may still be some hiding around, search the area!"
  
  Soon, you men have gathered the villagers, huddled in a tight group to comfort each other. One of your men signals to you.
  
  "Sergeant, you have to see this," says Lance Corporal Simmons, his scarred face twisted in anger.
  
  You are led into the concrete compound and see a full Western-style science laboratory inside. Two Marines restrain a wiry Vietnamese man in a lab coat, but your attention is drawn to the contents of the lab. Leeches with long stingers wriggle inside several beakers, a tube extracting a dripping black liquid from them. Photographs of the soldiers of the mist are tacked to the walls. A penciled sketch illustrates the progression of a familiar disease on the human body. A disease that darkens the veins and peels the skin.
  
  The Vietnamese scientist speaks in frantic, but perfect English. "No, this isn't what you think it is, I've been-"
  
  A gunshot erupts, and his head snaps back. He collapses to the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead. You are surprised to see a pistol in your hand, trailing smoke. A part of your soul withers away as you look at his body, but you ignore the feeling. This village is responsible for the deaths of your men, and now you take your revenge. You look at your men, who have a pure, inarticulate fury in their eyes.
  
  The platoon's next actions happen spontaneously, without a need for words, for plans. They rampage through the village, killing everything, torching everything. You shut your ears to cries and pleas of the villagers. An elderly woman runs up to you, wearing a once bright blue dress that's faded and covered in dirt. She grabs your shirt, and screams, "Tai Sao?Tai Sao?" You smack her to the ground and shoot her as well.
  
  The village lies in flame in front of you as the sun rises, dispelling the mist. Your men watch silently, a strange calm in the air. Suddenly, a terrible pain racks your body. You look at your arms as a black tinge starts to flow through your veins. Your screams join the rest of your men, as the disease quickly takes hold. After thrashing in pain for several minutes on the ground, your struggle ends.
  
  That night, you rise as one of the creatures of the mist.