by Greig Beck
He lowered his head, large, dark, glossy eyes glaring at Alex. His remaining men stared unblinkingly at Alex with the same weird eyes. The HAWCs were like statues, with their RG3s pointing unwaveringly at each of the Russians’ heads.
The foggy atmosphere curled around them, if anything becoming more crowded with the floating specks. Alex’s laser-focused attention detected the sound of something large moving out beyond the curtain of mist.
Zlatan cocked his head. “Yes, I know, we are not the only predators that stalk this mountain.” His strange eyes narrowed, as he seemed to be tracking something that even Alex couldn’t see.
The scream that tore through the atmosphere was one of fear and absolute pain. Casey spun at him.
“Erikson.”
“Shit! Pull back,” Alex yelled.
“Another time.” Zlatan’s eyes never left him.
CHAPTER 25
“Hey you!” The tall female HAWC, Erikson, pointed at Scott McIntyre, who was wandering away. “Get the fuck back in here.”
Morag’s head whipped around to where the young NASA scientist had ambled away. His back and shoulders were hunched and his suit looked strangely bulky like he was hiding something underneath it. Also, one of his arms, the one that had been spiked, now hung down by his side, and weirdly lagged all the way down past his knee.
What the hell is up with him, she wondered as the man continued to ignore the HAWC and stumble away out into the gloom.
“Son of a bitch,” Erikson hissed, her head going from the NASA tech to where her comrades were fighting the Russians. “Got no time for this.”
“Scott,” Anne Peterson called. “Scott?” She turned to Russell Burrows, her brows knitted. “I think there’s something wrong with him.”
“You think?” Morag scoffed.
“You two.” Erikson thumbed toward the vanishing Scott McIntyre. “He’s your buddy. Go and get him. You got one minute.”
“I’ll get him,” Russell sighed and ran after Scott.
Morag shifted her facemask so she could see better. McIntyre was staggering on and still only twenty feet away but already becoming indistinct in the smog. Russell caught up to the man, grabbed his arm, and tried to turn him around.
The young NASA scientist pushed Russell hard, making him fall back into the slime. Then without a word, McIntyre began to sprint off into the gloom.
“Hey, stop!” Russell leaped to his feet, and went to go after him, but Erikson immediately raised her RG3 and fired a few near silent shots toward him. The sludge splashed up in a line in front of him and stopped him dead. She showed her teeth.
“Burrows, don’t even think about it. Get back in the group, he wants to play hide and seek, that’s his funeral.”
“But there’s something wrong with him,” Anne complained.
“Something wrong everywhere, lady. Everyone just stay close and stay focused.” Erikson turned back to where the HAWCs were facing off against the Russians.
Morag looked back to where Scott had vanished into the wall of swirling clouds. It’s getting thicker. Soon, they’d barely be able to see six feet in front of themselves, and then they might need to rope themselves together to stop getting separated and lost. She stepped closer to Erikson, trying to see Alex Hunter again – the fighting seemed to have momentarily stopped, and the huge soldiers now just faced each other.
“Is it over?” she asked.
Erikson didn’t turn her head. “Boss’ll let us know when.”
Morag muttered to herself as she headed back to the group. She had to duck under a stunted tree-type thing that was dripping with the mud. She stopped for a moment to stare at it. Did it quiver slightly as I went past? She stayed watching for several seconds, before putting the thought down to reduced visibility, fatigue, and a good dose of nerves. Still, yech.
There was a rounded rock sticking up out of the muck that looked relatively dry. She headed toward it, turned, and sat down heavily.
It moved.
She looked down. It moved again, and Morag leaped to her feet.
“What the hell?”
“What is it?” Anne also sprang upright, and backed away. Behind her Russell and Calvin Renner did the same.
“The rock …” Morag stepped back. “It’s goddamn moving.”
“Get a grip,” Erikson said over her shoulder.
The rock began to rise. “You get a grip – of this.” Morag pointed.
With a sucking noise, the oval-shaped rock lifted from the surrounding ooze. It was about six feet in length and around it smaller mounds began to appear.
“Erikson, gonna need you here … like, right now.” Morag continued to back away. “Calvin …?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m rolling.” Renner had his legs spread and a small camera to his face.
The second mound lifted stickily, and they saw then that it was really part of the larger one – the head. Tucked under a collar of armor plating it gently extended two whip-like feelers that sprung up as the mud slid from a pair of huge glossy eyes. It hissed like a snake.
“Holy fuck, what the hell is that?” Renner had the camera away from his face and behind his visor his eyes were round as poker chips.
“Get back,” Erikson yelled, and stepped to the side of the group, with her RG3 aimed dead center at the thing.
“Don’t shoot,” Anne said, stepping forward. “I think it’s …”
Spindly legs lifted the thing’s head higher and two wicked-looking mandibles eased open about a foot before clacking closed. They yawned open again as the thing faced them, and inside they could see moving parts that looked like buzz saws on the end of mechanical arms. Behind the thing on its rear, it looked like there was a ribbed barrel attached to it.
The thing hissed again and seemed to lunge forward, which was too much for Erikson who let loose a stream of projectiles that ripped all along the thick carapace from its head to its rear. The effect was instantaneous as the huge insectoid erupted in spastic movements accompanied by a constant hiss like a broken steam pipe.
“Oh yeah?” Erikson dialed up her RG3 to a more meaningful projectile size, and let loose again.
This time, fist-sized holes punched into the shell with a sound like cracking tiles. Morag winced as the thing’s hiss changed to a high-pitched squeal. Erikson then blew its head apart.
“Fuck you!” Erikson seemed to vent her rage, fear, and frustration on the thing as she continued to drill it. But even with holes punched through it, and now missing a head, the thing bullocked its way forward, causing Anne to scream as it headed toward her.
It came clear of the mud.
Like a massive cockroach. In fact that was exactly what it looked like, except a thousand times bigger. And she’d heard that cockroaches could live for three days even without a head, and only finally ended up dying from dehydration, rather than the missing brain.
Erikson fired again, and this time she punctured the barrel shaped appendage that was attached to its abdomen – big mistake – it exploded.
The casing was an egg sack containing hundreds of tiny roaches the size of rats. They boiled free, small whip antenna waving, bristled legs moving in a blur. They spread in every direction.
Something that looked like a bear claw gripped Renner’s leg and he yelled in pain. “Ouch, it’s fucking biting me!” He knocked another one off that tried to shimmy up his thigh.
Everyone started to scramble, and Morag pulled out her flashlight and held it before her like a sword.
The insects moved fast in a flurry of legs and antenna. It didn’t matter to Morag whether they were hungry or just frightened, there was no way she was letting them anywhere near her. She didn’t want to get bitten, and certainly didn’t want any goddamn punctures in her suit.
Erikson was like a machine, aiming and firing, and never missing, as she exploded the things one after the other. Then as fast as they were vomited onto the ground, they were gone. The revolting bugs disappearing into the mist or burrowing back
into the slime. The huge parent insect with its head obliterated had walked itself into a rock and continued to try to walk forward even with its path blocked.
“Okay everyone, fun’s over, get back in here,” Erikson demanded.
Morag turned to back up toward Erikson, waving the flashlight in front of her, but the baby monstrosities were gone. Behind her, Erikson sounded impatient.
“I said, everyone get bac … “
“… ack!”
“… aaaaack!”
“Huh?” Morag half turned, keeping an eye out for more of the bugs. “What?”
RG3 projectiles flew, splattering the mud, drilling into the weird tree stump things and blasting fragments from the rocks.
Morag dove out of the way then propped herself up. “Hey, watch ou—” She froze.
The female HAWC was hanging in the air, and something had hold of her. Morag’s mouth dropped open. The thing was huge; standing enormously tall on two legs. It’s elongated head grotesque and sunken into its shoulders, and centered with two large ink-black eyes that had smaller eyes dotted around them. The body was mottled, heavily muscled and its segments separated into distinct plating-like armor.
“Oh Jesus, no, no, no.” Morag scurried to her feet and backed away, feeling her stomach turn over from fear. She saw that the hand that held the woman by the throat was a match for the one that Alex Hunter had thrown before them. This was one of the things that had taken Steve Knight.
She continued to scuttle backwards until she bumped into Anne, who screamed, and then she and Russell ran in the direction of the HAWCs. But her knuckleheaded cameraman sprinted madly the other way into the mist.
“Calvin!” she yelled as she continued to retreat.
Erikson struggled vainly in the grip of something that out-muscled her by ten to one. Her rifle had been dropped or maybe pulled from her hands – did the creature also know to do that?
The thing then raked one hand down her body from her neck to her ribs, peeling back the heavily armored suit like it was nothing more than paper. Morag saw that the flesh was also rent and blood immediately welled up and ran down Erikson’s side. Erikson struggled, one hand on the iron-like grip at her throat and with the other arm, she used the point of her elbow to lash back against the pumpkin-sized head again and again.
Morag looked at the flashlight in her hands, wishing she had a shotgun. But the thought of getting closer petrified her, while the tough female HAWC never gave up fighting for a second. She wondered at the fortitude of these people, where she would have been screaming her lungs out or perhaps have fainted from fear, this woman fought on, with nothing but her body, curses, and gritted teeth.
Erikson reached down to pull a blade from her belt and then slashed and stabbed at the hand. But the knife didn’t penetrate a hide that seemed tougher than the hardest of leathers.
The thing dragged Erikson closer to itself and bent its monstrous head forward. The mouth opened, and telescoped out like the jaws of a fish from the sunless depths of the ocean.
“No …!” Morag knew what was coming and threw the flashlight with all her strength. But to her horror, she actually struck Erikson in the chest. It made no difference as the thing’s mouth fixed at the valley of her neck and shoulder and then wetly burrowed in.
It was only then that Erikson screamed, but only for a moment as her vocal chords were severed when the long teeth sawed through flesh, tendon, and cartilage, ripping away a double fist of meat. Her head flopped bonelessly to the side, and her eyelids fluttered like a pair of pinned moths.
Projectiles riveted up the creature’s hide. In a blink, it vanished, taking the female HAWC with it.
Alex Hunter sprinted in the open, and then looked about to go after it.
“No!” Morag screamed. “Don’t – she’s already dead.”
Alex turned to her.
“She’s gone. I think … I think, they want you to go after them.” Morag looked around. “They’re smart, picking us off one at a time.” She ran toward Alex, keeping one eye on the swirling mist. “I think it knew she was the one with the weapon – it disarmed her first.”
Alex’s head tilted back for a second, and she guessed he must have been cursing. She could see his eyes were screwed shut, but the more she stared, she realized it looked more like he was arguing, through gritted teeth.
“Alex …” She wanted to reach out to him, but hesitated. Then changed her mind and grabbed his arm.
After another few seconds, he lowered his head and she let go. He waved her closer.
“Come on.”
Alex backed up, keeping his weapon trained on the thick haze. “We’ve got Anne and Russell with us, but where are McIntyre and Renner?”
She pointed. “Out there. We need to go after them.”
Alex faced where she pointed and stared out into the fog for a few moments. “No, they’ve gone too far now.” He continued to let his eyes search the soupy air. “They’re on their own.” He turned away. “Let’s go.”
“But …” Morag paused to look back out at the curtains of mist, and then sighed. Hope you can find us, Cal. All the camera equipment and footage was also now gone. She dropped her head momentarily – it was all for nothing. She groaned and then spun back to keep up with the vanishing Alex.
* * *
Calvin Renner ran, fell to the slime, got up and ran some more before he even realized no one was running with him.
I’m panicking … stop!
He slowed, and bent over heaving in oxygen and resting his hands on his knees. He straightened, still wheezing into his mask.
Calm down. Just calm – the fuck – down.
He gulped more air, and then turned one way then the next. Already his footsteps had been filled in with the sucking slime, so there wasn’t even a way to retrace his path.
“Oh, you dumb shit,” he gasped, still breathing hard.
He turned again, and took a few steps. The mist seemed even heavier, and he couldn’t see more than a dozen feet in any direction. Shapes loomed huge, like stalagmites sprouting weird branches that held bulbous pods dripping with slime. He looked up; inside the pods things wriggled like the fruits were about to give birth.
Gross. He looked down at his feet and saw that pools of what might have been stagnant water, boiled with repulsive life. And that looks even fucking worse. He bent closer to stare into one. Tiny, glossy, black things roiled and climbed over one another. They could have been tadpoles or eels, but had tiny hands that gripped and clung on. He grimaced and slowly straightened.
A squelch of mud behind him.
“Hello?” he turned, hopeful.
“Morag? Captain Hunter?” He waited a few seconds. “Hellooo?”
Nothing.
Another splash from out behind the walls of mist. He spun, but then there came more from behind him.
Renner spun again. “Please stop that.” He spun back. “That better not be you, Morag. Not fucking funny.”
The cameraman waited, and then held his breath, straining to hear for several more seconds. No, that better be you … please be you, his mind begged. He shivered, and then heard a small whimper – his own.
“Yeah, okay, fuck this. I’m outta here.” He’d run, fast. Even if it was the wrong direction, sooner or later he’d hit the crater-basin wall, and then he’d only have to follow it back to where they came in. He’d wait for them there.
Renner turned, and then almost blacked out from the shock – there was something there, right there, and so close it loomed up over him. It was close to eight feet tall, and had a lumped head, and eyes so black they seemed like bottomless pits, and would have been more at home in the ugly, bulging face of a spider.
Renner gulped looking down to the stump on the end of one of its arms. “I didn’t cut off your hand,” he babbled. “It was Captain Hunter who did that.”
He saw that from the stump, branching filaments extruded as if it was already regenerating the limb.
“I’m not
your enemy.” He started to back up, holding his hands up before him. “I’m just visiting here.”
Its arm rose almost lovingly to alight on his shoulder. But where the stubby fingers touched, it soon turned white hot as talons dug into his much softer flesh.
Renner screamed and tried to drag himself away, but it was like he was hooked and the thing’s arm pulled him closer to an open mouth, showing a ring of dagger-like teeth that went all the way around the dark, pitiless hole of its throat.
His scream only stopped when the mouth smashed through his visor to close over his own.
CHAPTER 26
College Park Airfield, Greenbelt, Maryland
At dawn, pilot Luke Vincenzo hosed down the Chinook. He had a bucket of soapy water and he’d give the big bruiser a quick wash before heading home. There was nothing like flying over open countryside to pepper your cockpit window and underbelly with squashed bugs, and even the occasional bird that wasn’t paying attention.
The Chinook helicopter was a hundred foot of craft, so his job was just to get the large stuff off, and as it stood eighteen feet high, he’d wait until he could get a turn with the ladder truck to do the skin on the top.
It was still a big job, but Luke didn’t mind. For one thing, it was eighty degrees so throwing around a bit of water was welcome. And then as far as he was concerned it was like washing and tending to your horse – you kept your steed in shape, and it kept you alive when you needed it. Same went for your helo.
Hose and wash, hose and wash, and paying extra attention to any lumpy gunk he could see. The capture pole he’d used to grab Alex Hunter’s sample had been retracted, but the fork was just visible and it had some sludge stuck there that he washed and then rubbed with his cloth.
Ouch. Damned thing was sharp and pierced his rubber glove, scratching the back of his hand. He looked at it briefly, judged it minor, and ignored it, continuing with the wash.
* * *
07:42 am
