They beheld a scene straight from a madman's nightmare.
  A woman was the sole occupant of the spacious, ransacked room.  She had been stripped naked and deposited on a pile of pillows and blankets in the middle of the floor.  Her hair was blonde and hung to her shoulders in a disheveled tangle.   She was covered in blood from her chin to her toes.  Puncture marks, made by a knife or sharp implement, were spaced inches apart all over her body.  Most horrifying of all were her eyes.  The orbs had been ruptured, savagely gouged open.
  Charlie breathed heavily behind Donovan.  "Dear God," he whispered.

   There were six corpses arranged bizarrely around the cabin.  All had been stripped naked.  All were rotted beyond recognition, their bones exposed in spots, ribbons of flesh hanging from their bodies.  Two were seated on the settee, one was sprawled on the top of the dinette table, and two lay on the floor, their arms neatly aligned at their sides, their grisly, ragged lips pulled back to expose their yellowing teeth in ghastly grins of welcome.
   "My God," Percy declared in horror.

   Donovan noted the distance to the target on the screen.  In a minute the chopper would be within weapons-mode range.  "Cease probe," he ordered.

   "Probe deactivated."

   "Switch to weapons mode."

   "Switching."

   Communications Officer Jennings suddenly twisted a dial on his monitor.  "Captain, they've activated a laser rangefinder in their nose.  They have us locked in their missile sights."

   Donovan came out of his chair, his pulse pounding.  The sons of bitches were going to fire!