The Pilot

by Michael Cole

  “The boxes!” she said, spitting black saliva as she spoke. “There’s a hatch under the MRE boxes!” Still gagging for breath, she rushed into the storage room. She pulled the pile of boxes away from the wall, scattering them onto the floor. Terrie ran over and assisted. They pulled several boxes from the corner, revealing a large steel hatch door.

  Hawk turned a lever on its top, and pulled up tightly. The door would not budge. Hawk pulled harder, pushing up with her feet as she held on to the handle. Terrie pushed her aside and pulled up on the hatch.

  “Damn it!” she yelled, unable to open it.

  “It’s been closed for over seventy years. It’s rusted shut,” Hawk said. Seymour fired several more rounds through the loophole, Seymour ran to the hatch.

  “Move!” he shouted. Hawk and Terrie stepped out of the way as Seymour slammed the butt of his weapon down hard on the frame. He struck the hatch several times, breaking off tiny bits of rust from the edges and hinge. He grabbed the lever and pulled up with all of his strength. The hatch squeaked as it slowly opened. The lever snapped free, causing Seymour to fall backward against the wall. The hatch door was stuck open at a forty-five-degree angle. Terrie ignited a flare stick and dropped it down the shaft. It hit the floor only ten feet down, illuminating a small weapons closet.

  Large chunks of cement burst into the planning room as the creatures widened the loopholes. A humanoid creature started crawling through the nearest one. Seymour pushed himself off from the wall, and raised his weapon. Numerous cavities exploded as he pumped several rounds into the invader. He looked over his shoulder to Terrie and Hawk.

  “Go! Go! Go!” he yelled. Hawk lowered herself onto her stomach and slipped through the hatch. The ladder bars were completely covered in rust and soot. Red light flickered from the flare as Hawk lowered herself down the ladder. Clear of the smoke, she drew a deep breath. The air smelled of rot and a foul taste, but it was cleaner than the fumes above.

  Terrie quickly followed her down into the small storage area. Terrie removed a flashlight from her vest and shined it on the door.

  A loud slamming noise drew their attention back upward, as Seymour kicked the hatch door to widen it. Laying on his stomach, he squeezed his muscular bulk through the partially open hatch, pulling it shut as soon as he was completely through.

  Hawk yanked the lever to the tunnel door.

  “Wait!” Seymour shouted, stopping her before she could open it. She stopped and listened, hearing the screeches coming from outside. Seymour removed two grenades from his vest and pulled the pins, keeping the handles intact. He looked at Terrie, who stood ready by the door. “Get ready to run for the trees. These bastards will be on us like flies on shit.” Hawk and Terrie gave a thumbs-up, signaling they were ready.

  Terrie turned the lever and pressed against the door. It opened outward, leading to a narrow trench. Five or six creatures were in the tunnel, looking toward the door as it opened. Seymour launched the grenades, their handles springing free and igniting the charge. Terrie slammed the door shut.

  The grenades exploded, sending shrapnel and concussive force into the tunnel. Terrie opened the door again, and Seymour took point. Three of the creatures were blown apart by the blasts, while two others writhed on the ground, severely wounded. He aimed his rifle to the edge of the trench, as two arachnid creatures approached the edge. He fired two bursts, landing headshots on each one.

  Terrie and Hawk followed him out. Seymour knelt down, giving each of them a boost to climb out of the trench. Terrie went first, followed by Hawk. Several creatures were rapidly approaching on both sides of the trench. Seymour jumped and clutched the edge with both hands, pulling himself up in a chin-up manner.

  “Where the hell are the others?!” Terrie asked.

  “No time! Get going!” Seymour said, pushing himself up from the edge. “Run for the trees.”

  The three sprinted, firing several rounds into the swarm. Numerous creatures swarmed over the bunker as though claiming territory, while several others pursued the fresh meat.

  ********

  Nagamine rose from behind the desk, seeing the office door completely blown off its hinges. Fire and smoke had already filled the room. Looking through the smoke, Nagamine saw the rubble that blocked his way. He was trapped in the office, the only intact segment of the bunker’s front side.

  Several sharp appendages stabbed in-between the rubble segments. The creatures were trying desperately to get to him. He turned around and looked through the loophole. Multiple creatures were digging at the wall, breaking fragments from the opening. He was absolutely trapped.

  With enemies digging their way in from both sides, and the air nearly unbreathable, Nag knew he only had minutes. He checked his ammunition. His current mag was nearly spent, and he only had one full one remaining. He switched them out, then let the weapon hang from its strap. He pulled two grenades from his vest. He approached the entrance, as two jagged forelegs protruded through the rubble. The arms wiggled to pry apart the debris. The alien withdrew its arms, leaving a six-inch hole in the “wall”.

  Nagamine drew the pins and slipped both grenades through the hole. He turned and jumped behind the desk. The aliens screeched, and the grenades exploded. A concussion wave swept into the office, pushing the desk back nearly against the wall.

  Nagamine pushed it back to make space as he stood up. The wall of debris had collapsed, and the aliens behind it blown to pieces. It would be seconds before more gathered in. He jumped over the desk, and tore out of the office.

  He looked up, seeing several beasts perched up on the second floor. Legs bent in a crouching position, they looked down at him. He then glanced behind him. The rain had dampened the fire, and several creatures were once again moving in onto the bunker. Outnumbered and low on ammo, Nagamine sprinted toward the trees. The creatures sprang like grasshoppers, pursuing him into the jungle.

  ********

  “Twenty-six! Twenty-seven!” Rex shouted as he cast a flame over two creatures.

  “Still ahead of you!” Ivan said. He blazed the forest with his flamethrower. The dark forest lit in a hellish flicker, giving the mercenaries a view into the depths of the forest. Fire raged about, climbing the trees. Between the trees, bodies of fire ran about as burning aliens fled. The rain continued pummeling the forest, gradually putting out the flame.

  Ivan led the retreat into the jungle, while Rex maintained a constant blaze behind them. Clawing sounds and rustling leaves gave away the presence of a humanoid creature flanking at him from the left. He turned, stopping the beast’s assault with a stream of fire. The creature screamed and backed away, blazing in the forest. The intense heat and fire quickly overwhelmed it, and its body slumped in the dirt.

  “Twenty-eight!” Rex said.

  “Still behind,” Ivan shouted. Looking ahead, he saw two large bushes in his way. Leaning in with his shoulder, he plowed through. When looking back up, they had come into a small open area, on the edge of a steep hill. “Whoa!” He halted himself, and gazed at the hill. In the black of night, it was impossible to see how far down it led.

  “Crap, if you think we’re lost now—just wait ‘til we go down there,” Rex said.

  “We can’t stay here!” Ivan said. The scraping sound of sharp talons grinding against the dirt drew their attention backwards. Ivan turned and pointed his nozzle. He squeezed the trigger. A tiny burst of flame, the size of a soccer-ball, ripped from the nozzle and evaporated. “Shit!” Ivan cursed. Air had gotten into the pipe. Two arachnid-shaped creatures ripped through the plants and crawled toward them. Ivan jumped out of the way.

  Rex fired a burst of flame from his flamethrower. The creatures darted in opposite directions, avoiding the stream. Rex yelled, still triggering the flamethrower. He swept the nozzle to the right, its stream of fire following the creature.

  Ivan backed away from the approaching alien. Its tentacles uncoiled, and looped over its body. Ivan fell backward, narrowly avoiding the duel strike as th
e tentacles lunged toward him. On his back, Ivan pulled his Desert Eagle from his leg holster. The creature scurried toward him to strike. He fired several rounds into its head, causing blood and saliva to burst like a volcano. The creature flailed its tentacles and legs, rolling frantically along the ground. Ivan sprung back to his feet, and shot several rounds into the dying alien’s body. After the flailing stopped, Ivan ripped the harness from his shoulders. He reloaded his pistol and knelt down to inspect the valves.

  Rainwater gradually put out the surrounding fire as Rex waited for the creatures to re-emerge. He taunted them in his mind, daring them to attack once more. His finger trembled on the nozzle trigger.

  “Come on, you fuckers,” he muttered out loud. “Come get some.” As if in direct response, several humanoids sprang from the darkness. Abandoning his flamethrower, Ivan retreated backwards while firing several rounds from his pistol.

  Rex’s stream of fire barely missed him as he engulfed the two creatures. They retreated backwards, writhing to put the flames out. Rex ran forward, coating them in even more flame.

  “Ah-ha!” he yelled victoriously. “Whatcha runnin’ for! You not like that?!”

  It listened to the screams of its children as the prey inflicted its fury. It watched their bodies blaze in extreme heat, unable to reach the target.

  Its goal of flushing its enemies out was successful, though at greater cost than it desired. The flamethrowers provided a substantial defense against its tactics, destroying much of its spawn.

  The Pilot did not experience grief, nor anger. It contained only a basic instinct: expansion of the species. This instinct drove its logic, and therefore its strategic planning.

  This target was not worth the cost.

  The gauntlet illuminated in bright colors, and the Pilot extended its arm.

  “Burn, motherfucker, burn!” Rex yelled in glory as he blazed the forest. A large yellow-green flash drew his attention.

  It came at the speed of light. The ball of energy shot through the jungle, hitting him square in the stomach. In the briefest of instances, Rex felt a combination of intense heat and pressure, as the energy ball punched through him like a battering ram. The energy ball burst into a huge explosion, triggering an immediate second explosion as the canisters ruptured.

  A huge ball of fire ripped upward into the trees, throwing Ivan completely off his feet. He landed square on his back, splashing into a pool of mud.

  ********

  A thunderous boom echoed through the jungle, bringing Seymour to a stop. He had been leading Terrie and Hawk toward the dim flashes caused by the flamethrowers, intending to regroup with the rest of the team. The radios and headpieces had been lost during the chaos, and he had no way of communicating.

  Through the jungle, they could see dim flickering of orange and red. He felt that dreaded sixth sense. Something horrific had just happened. He looked behind them. The creatures were not in sight, but their movements and hisses could be heard within the depths of the jungle.

  There was no time to plan. The best likeliness of reuniting with the team was to follow the flashes. He continued running, waving for the others to follow.

  ********

  Fire crackled everywhere as fuel from the canisters burned. The world seemed blurry as Ivan leaned up. He had hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Worst, water and mud had splattered over his eyes, further limiting his vision.

  He wiped his fingertips over his eyes, brushing the mud away. He rolled to his right.

  Two feet beside him, Rex’s arm lay in the muck, completely blown away near the bicep area. Several feet past it was a leg, severed below the knee. Ivan gasped and pushed back. He leaned up and looked around. Scattered everywhere were scorched bits of his friend. The fire blazed all around him, nearly forming a circle.

  From straight ahead, a shape broke through the wall of fire. Horror and helplessness consumed Ivan as he saw the towering Pilot approach him. Those massive black fangs jittered, and the three fingers opened up, exposing the stinger.

  “No! NO!” Ivan yelled, kicking with his legs. The creature stood over him, and lunged with its stinger. Ivan screamed. He threw his arms out, wrapping both hands around the creature’s wrist. The barb stopped, less than an inch from his chest.

  Muscles bulged, and teeth grinded as Ivan fought against the Pilot’s superior strength. He sneered, feeling the stinger closing in slowly. Torturously slow. A slimy substance dripped from its tip, spilling onto his chest.

  Ivan’s eyes went to the creature’s face. Its eyeless dome of a head gazed at him, those fangs jittering as though making a taunting expression. Ivan wheezed through his teeth, desperately trying to keep it off.

  “No! NO!” he screamed. An ear-piercing hiss rang out, and the fangs yawned upward until they were protruding out from its face. In a hammer-like motion, the Pilot rammed its head down on Ivan’s face, spearing its fangs through both of his eyes.

  Ivan screamed and writhed, the pain and terror eliminating the strength from his arms. The beast’s arm slipped through his fingers, the barb puncturing his stomach.

  CHAPTER

  31

  The echo from Ivan’s screams drove Seymour to quicken his pace. Twigs and leaves slapped his face as he ran. Terrie and Hawk sprinted to keep up with him.

  The air was still hot, though the fires were steadily dying down from the rain. The glow from the flame brightened as Seymour drew nearer. The screams had stopped, spurring a deep sense of dread. The air grew hotter, and the smoke thicker.

  The flames were waist high when Seymour arrived. The air smelled of burnt flesh and fuel, and the ground was littered with various human remains. Terrie arrived moments after Seymour. She immediately cupped a hand over her mouth. Entrails, curled like rope, were strung about all over. She saw the severed arm and leg, with no trace of the torso. Metal fragments of the flamethrower were embedded into the ground and trees like shrapnel.

  Hawk arrived, gasping for breath. She looked down at the carnage. “Oh, Lord…”

  Seymour looked down at the arm. Recognizing the glove, he knew it was Rex’s. A couple of feet to the right, the mud had been kicked up as though a struggle took place. Several feet off to the side, the other flamethrower lay intact. Fire had scorched the canisters, and several dents marked the sides, but did not ignite the fuel. Looking around, there was no trace of Ivan.

  “You think they got him?” Terrie asked. Seymour didn’t answer, as he wasn’t sure. “What the hell are all these things?”

  “They grew out of those spores,” Seymour said. “Those friggin graveyards are nest sites for these things. If I knew what they held…” he glared at Hawk, “we’d have blown those nests up when we came across them. But of course, we weren’t given certain information.”

  Hawk faced him, her face livid. “Seymour, we’ve been through this. We suspected that this creature was dangerous. Until tonight, I didn’t know what that thing was capable of. As I said, our computers estimated that this thing had visited many planets, maybe several galaxies, and NEVER went to the same place twice. It gave me cause for concern. Seeing the aftermath of what took place confirmed the threat for me!”

  A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the jungle, drawing the attention of all three. A second scream immediately followed.

  “Help!” the voice cried out. Seymour felt a chill. It was Ivan’s voice. All three of them quickly darted toward the sound. Ivan called out again, in a loud gurgling voice. “Heelllp!”

  Terrie followed Seymour closely as they ran along the edge of the hill. Despite the adrenaline she was experiencing, her mind was still sharp. Something about this didn’t seem right.

  Lightning sparked above, casting a glow over the jungle. Seymour saw a wall of blue, where the light shone down into a clearing several yards ahead of them.

  “I see him!” Seymour said, pointing toward a gap in the plants.

  “Wait!” Terrie shouted, grabbing Seymour by the shoulder. He stopped and lo
oked at her.

  “What?”

  She unslung her sniper rifle, and raised the weapon eye level. She peered through the night-vision scope. Ivan was slumped against a tree. His head was slung, his body was motionless…

  His eyes gone! Reduced to black blots in the night-vision.

  Movement near his head drew her attention. She focused in.

  “Oh, God!” she said. The creature was the size of a squirrel, with long legs resembling a cricket’s. Two front appendages, almost as thin as wire, were embedded into Ivan’s throat. They wiggled like fishing line. As they did, Ivan’s slack jaw jittered ever-so-slightly. “Help…me…”

  Terrie placed the critter center in her crosshairs. She pulled the trigger, exploding it into several different pieces. She lowered the gun, her face tense with horror.

  “The damn thing was manipulating his vocal cords,” she said.

  “Are you serious?” Hawk said. “Why?”

  “Sons-of-bitches have a bunch of tricks up their sleeves,” Seymour said. “It was setting a friggin trap. It was luring us in to…” he paused, looking up into the trees. With his night-vision goggles lost in the firefight, he struggled to see anything. “Terrie, point that thing up into the trees.”

  Terrie shouldered her weapon and pointed it upward. Perched in the trees above, were several of the offspring creatures. They were already scurrying down the branches, moving in on their position.

  “Oh shit…they’re onto us!” Terrie yelled.

  Seymour raised his weapon. “How many?”

  “A whole damn circus!” Terrie said.

  She immediately placed one of the creatures in her crosshairs and fired. The creature exploded into a cloud of blood, its body falling from the tree. The other creatures screeched, while quickening their pace.

  ********

  Nagamine backed away, firing several bursts from his MP5. Arachnid creatures hissed as bullets tore into their exoskeletons, exploding fragments and blood from their bodies.