by Greig Beck
The brume was so thick now they could only see for a dozen feet or so before the swirling walls closed in and blanketed everything. But his earphones picked up the soft slithering, creeping, and the occasional heavy drop of a foot that conjured images of an elephant’s stump-like limb thumping down.
About twenty minutes in, they entered a small clearing, and as Franks accelerated she ran into the first strand. The female HAWC cursed, flayed, and caused the group to bunch up behind her.
“Watch out. Fucking shit sticks to you.” She pulled her knife and slashed at the sticky rope-like strands.
“What the hell is going on?” Sam yelled over their heads, and tried to push forward but Russell Burrows edged backwards bumping into him.
“I don’t like this,” the NASA scientist said softly over his shoulder.
“No shit.” Sam engaged his quad lenses, turned one way then the other, and then looked upwards.
His vision was still limited, but he could just make out the mesh strung between the glistening stumps. He also saw that many of them now seemed to hum, passing along the vibrations from Franks’ tugging. He flicked his quads between light-enhance and then telescopic – the glistening ropes seemed to be everywhere. He then flicked to thermal and caught a sudden flash of heat, coming in fast.
“HAWCs, eyes out.”
Monroe pulled his two blades, and held them dagger-like in each hand. Sam pulled his longest blade, and yanked Russell behind him. In front of him, Franks was becoming manic.
“Fucking, fucking hell.” The weird string refused to break or cut. “Like … sticky …”
The creature dropped soundlessly. It was broad, rubbery looking, and had extremely long and powerful limbs.
“Behind you,” Russell shrieked from around Sam’s shoulder.
Sam turned in time to see the creature’s long arms and legs separate from four to eight, and then every one of them grabbed at the female HAWC. Monroe leaned in, but one of the segmented limbs flicked him away as if he weighed nothing.
Franks tried to turn but she was tangled in the mesh, and raised both of her own blades as the thing loomed before her. “Fuck you!” She went to do a double stab, but one of her arms was still caught, and more cable-like strands were sprayed over her from below. She still held an arm up, but was becoming totally covered as the creature physically netted her in a cocoon.
She fell sideways, cursing and yelling. Then the thing reached down to hook the cocoon and began to drag her away from the group.
Russell was frozen, hands up at each side of his face, and mouth open in a long, silent scream.
“Like hell.” Sam charged in.
Sam leaped over Franks and crashed into the thing’s leathery body, bringing a double fisted blow down in the center of its wire-haired back.
It dropped Casey and spun, making a noise like a rattlesnake. Eight long arms closed around Sam. He felt the monstrous strength of the grip as the limbs compressed, and he was drawn in close to a muscular body. There was a scraping sound and he looked up into the top of his visor – what he initially thought were two smaller limbs at the front of the horrifying monkey-like face had now extended forward, and on the end of each was a six-inch fang. They jabbed and scraped down the clear visor, leaving both a gouge in the super tough polymer and a milky trail as they went.
The thing moved fast, scrabbling at him, jostling him in its arms or legs or whatever the limbs were as it angled its mouthparts, trying to find an area of his body where it could penetrate his skin. Sam knew the armor plates of his suit should hold up, but didn’t want to take the chance of those six-inch tusks finding a space in between the plating where they might be able to dig in.
The big HAWC had his longest blade in his left hand and pushed hard to give himself thrusting room. But the thing pulled him in closer. The MECH’s hydraulics began to assert themselves and coupled with Sam’s muscles he could just hold it at bay. He grimaced from the effort, and found his legs becoming stiff. He glanced down and saw the huge bag of the thing’s abdomen prodding forward to squirt white liquid onto his column-like legs. The stuff began to harden into sticky rope.
Jesus! He kicked out while it was still wet, knowing he needed to keep his legs apart or they’d be glued together in an instant. Once down, he was as good as dead.
The manically moving arms and legs of the creature were covered in bristled hairs, same as the body, but the underside that faced him was relatively smooth and shiny – it was this area that Sam attacked.
He stabbed hard, but his blade refused to bite. He couldn’t penetrate a hide that was more like toughened leather. He tried again and again, but finally the hardened Ka-bar’s steel blade snapped. The grip on him tightened further. He felt his ribs begin to creak inside his suit.
Sam became aware of Monroe back on his feet and circling them looking for an opening. The young HAWC darted in, leaped, and used a two-handed grip to stab down on the thing’s back, but his hands and blade bounced off.
The bulbous abdomen pointed backwards and sprayed the young HAWC’s legs.
“Shit.” He fell and dragged himself away as it hardened to cable-like strength.
“Stay back,” Sam yelled. He looked up into the thing’s emotionless face. It had multiple eyes, a simian visage, and the two moving palps – like stubby arms growing out of its cheeks. He pushed out, drawing back from the thing inch by inch, and then using the creature’s grip and his own massive strength, he shot his head forward to butt the thing dead center.
The creature’s head was rocked back, and the grip loosened just enough for him to lift his arms and grab hold of the base of just one limb. He exerted every ounce of his technology-assisted strength on the single arm where the segment joined to the body. There was a satisfying crack, and then like pulling a cooked crab leg from its body, the limb came away, dragging with it a good-sized piece of meat and a gush of thick, dark blood.
The creature spasmed as its movements became ever more frantic. The rattling hiss boiled from its mouth as the fangs struck over and over again. Sam grabbed at the next limb, gritted his teeth and then jerked back hard. It too tore away.
The thing must have decided that making a meal of these creatures wasn’t worth being dismembered, and in an instant, it leaped above him, swinging away to vanish back into the mist ceiling.
Russell Burrows sat down hard and held his head. Sam just dropped to his knees and sucked in huge droughts of air. This place was a combination insane asylum and seventh level of Hell; and demons abound.
His heart was galloping in his chest, and he concentrated on slowing it. Monroe came and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Intense.”
Sam chuckled and looked up. “Just another day at the office.” He pointed at the cocooned Casey Franks. “And that’s enough laying down on the job for her.”
The cocoon bucked and wriggled as curses could be heard emanating from within the silken bag. Monroe turned to Sam.
“Hey, are you sure we should let her out? Might be dangerous.”
Sam grinned as he pushed to his feet. “Yeah, but we better stand back.” He turned to stare out into the near-impenetrable fog in the direction Alex had headed. The Arcadian was out there alone and this mad place was going all to shit. If this was what was happening here, what must it be like at ground zero, where the Orlando had come down?
“Hurry up in there, buddy,” he said softly.
Monroe got the sticky cords off the top half of Franks, and with her arms free, the female HAWC rapidly slashed away the rest.
“What – the fuck – was that thing?”
“A demon,” Russell said, holding himself. “And this is Hell.”
“Cut that shit out,” Sam growled. Because it’s exactly what’s on all our goddamn minds.
“Nah, remember the manifesto from the Orlando?” Monroe ventured. “I bet that was one of the spider specimens – tarantulas – all grown up. They had two of them.”
“Two?” Sam cursed.
“Then we’re outta here.” He turned to Russell Burrows. “Mister Burrows?”
“I think I’m okay.” The scientist dropped his arms to his sides, still looking pale behind his glass visor.
Sam looked to Franks. “You good?”
“Say the word.” She sheathed her blade.
Sam took one last look around. The light was fading fast, and any advantage they had would vanish with it. “What advantage,” he muttered, and turned to the woman.
“Then take us out.” Sam wiped the ichor off his hands. “And keep your damn eyes open, soldier.”
CHAPTER 39
Alex slowed. He was close, and he needed to use the utmost stealth. The huge creatures ‒ the Morg ‒ could see far better and were far stronger than him, but he had to assume they weren’t expecting anyone to come so quickly – or at all.
He crouched behind a slime stump, looked up and winced – the already weak light was fading. The sun had to be going down, and that meant it was going to get a whole lot more complicated. He turned to watch as one of the things lumbered by. At first, he thought the Morg was hunching forward, but then he saw that its head had strangely sunk into its shoulders, and was now little more than a large lump, covered in multiple dark eyes and mouths.
He knew these Morg were hard to hurt, let alone kill. But even if their bodies were like iron, and internal organs so protected as to be near impenetrable, if they had eyes, then it meant the brain was close by.
Alex closed his own eyes, concentrating on shutting everything else out, and soon images began to form – in the rear the craft several of the creatures were moving about. He couldn’t hope to fight and win against them all. Even one would slow him down and then allow the rest to swarm him.
He also detected a human presence, but just one. Which one? Who’d lived and who’d died? Or did one woman escape. He concentrated – no – the other was still there. Her presence still lingered along with the ghost of her agonized demise.
He needed to get inside and draw them away. He would have only seconds. Alex opened his eyes and looked along the outside of the craft and saw that the door was wedged shut, and there was debris scattered about. He saw what he needed. The other vital ingredient was luck – that would either be with him or against him. If not, this was where it all ended.
Alex began to coil his muscles. His heart rate rose, enormously, beating faster than any normal man’s. He centered himself, concentrating on his core and drawing in strength, focusing on the task ahead, seeing in his mind how he wanted it to play out.
Time was the one factor he could buy no more of – or cheat or steal or beat back. This worked the first time, or it didn’t work at all. He drew in a lung full of breath, and let his mind work the distance and speed he would need to close the gap. He lowered his head for a few seconds, saying a small prayer.
An image of Aimee and Joshua formed in his mind, lying on soft, green grass in the warm sunshine, smiling, safe. That was all that mattered. She nodded to him, and Joshua tilted his head, his gaze direct and his small cherubic lips moving with words: Kill them all.
Alex exploded forward.
Around him, time lagged. One of the flying insectoid creatures drifted by in slow motion, and got pulled slightly off course by the eddy he created in the air. The slime beneath his feet was kicked up, but he was long gone before it even fell back to the earth.
He was traveling so fast, he had become a bullet train hurtling toward his destination that was the makeshift door wedged into the broken hatch opening. Just before he arrived, Alex engaged his shield, held it up and struck the metal panel like a battering ram. His mass, momentum, and force all brought to bear on the door, and he exploded the metal sheet from the opening, blowing it into the cabin and knocking over one of the creatures just inside.
I’m in. Alex only had fractions of seconds to take everything in – three monstrous Morg, one now down, and one woman huddled to the rear who immediately came upright at seeing him.
In one smooth motion, he snatched up a metal pole from among the debris, sighted one of the huge creatures glaring at him, and launched it javelin style. It hit dead center between the clusters of glassy black eyes, making a crunching sound as it penetrated the chitinous shell-like skin.
He yelled for the woman to stay down, as there came an unearthly shriek from one of the Morg – he had their attention.
Alex turned and ran.
* * *
Morag was paralyzed in disbelief as the makeshift door was blown inwards by the impact. The creature that had grabbed her was struck by the edge of the door and knocked back to the rear of the bay area. The journalist stayed kneeling, mouth hanging open as her already strained nerves struggled with the new shocks.
In the broken doorway, framed within the furiously swirling mist, was one of the HAWCs. He stood, one foot forward, fists balled, and head lowered. Even though he was more than a head smaller than the monstrous beasts in the cabin, the raw energy almost crackled around him and made the creatures back up a step.
She went to crawl toward him.
“Stay there!”
The roar rooted her to the spot, but she recognized the voice – Alex Hunter – she almost cried as relief surged through her.
The HAWC leader disengaged his shield, and she could see the muscles bunch in his shoulders beneath his suit. But then instead of charging into battle, he did the opposite of what she hoped for – he turned and ran.
“Nooo,” she screamed, getting to her knees.
The remaining creature then seemed to overcome its surprise, and charged after him. She was left alone with the dead Morg with the long spike embedded in its horrifying face, and the Mitch-thing that had been knocked down by the door when Alex had burst in, and now with the side of its head dented.
She licked dry lips. There was silence, and she slowly turned, hearing a viscous popping and sliding from behind her. The fragment of asteroid had sent out long tendrils and they lovingly touched on the two downed Morg. They quickly gave up on the dead one, but began to work furiously on the Mitch one. The creature jerked.
Oh god. Morag’s eyes widened as she watched the Mitch-Morg sit up, the revolting tendrils touching, penetrating, and working on the area of his head that was damaged where the door had struck him. The Mitch-Morg got to its feet, leaning over the fragment as the tendrils drew away with the softest of sticky caresses. It then turned its alien face toward her.
Stupid. I should have run when I had the chance. She looked at the pile of slime-soaked protective clothing that had once been Anne. Gloops of muck still pulsed from the holes in the suit. The mess seemed to slide by itself, moving like a school of giant slugs.
The Mitch-Morg began to move toward her, and she held up the small piece of broken bone. It was every nightmare she had had as a little girl in the dark with her sheets pulled up over her head. These were monsters from the most feverish of bad dreams. The bone shook in her hands.
No, please, no. Morag started weep. She looked down momentarily at the sharp tipped bone, knowing it would be useless against the thing, and then thinking it might be better if she turned it on herself. I have seconds to decide.
She did.
No. Fuck it, I’ll fight. She held it up, sharp end pointed at the monstrosity as it came at her.
* * *
Alex sprinted harder and faster than he ever had in his life. The Morg were unnaturally fast, but the crowded sludge forest was becoming difficult to navigate, and their bodies would have had trouble wedging between some of the slime boughs.
He darted in and out for several minutes, accelerating as he went, and then made a big loop back to the Orlando. He only hoped Morag was still there when he returned – there was no time to mount a search if she had sprinted off into the jungle miasma.
He increased his speed for another few moments and then began to slow on his approach to the shuttle. There was nothing following him, however he could sense life forms inside. But it was a confused clump
of signals – the buzzing insect like thrum in his head began to increase, whiting out his senses.
He came to the opening in the skin of the craft and never slowed down.
* * *
A missile flew in at the Morg like a huge cannonball. The collision was enormous in the small bay area of the shuttle and Morag jumped, frog-like, to get out of the way as the huge bodies came together with a thump of flesh, bone, and armor plating.
She tried to make herself small, and kept her arms up for protection. She was in disbelief at the sheer ferocity of the attack, not just of the bestial Morg creature that had once been a human being, but by Alex Hunter, as he punched, kicked, and rained blows upon the thing with fist, boot, and shield.
Alex seemed unparalleled in hand-to-hand combat techniques, made even more lethal by his blinding speed and brute strength. He spun, lunged, and threw himself at the Morg over and over again. Morag winced as Alex ducked low and twisted to use the edge of his shield to slice across one of the creature’s trunk-like legs. There was a satisfying squeal of pain, and a gash opened right to the bone that poured dark blood to the ground. But almost immediately, it meshed back together, and the Morg increased the intensity of its attack.
Alex spun away, rolled, but not quick enough. He was grabbed then, and hurled into the bulkhead wall with such force the entire hull rang like a bell.
The Morg’s lumbering foot kicked up something that made Morag’s eyes widen with hope.
“The gun,” she yelled, pointing at the weapon.
Whether Alex heard or not, she didn’t know. But the HAWC RG3 gun that one of the Morg had brought back with them still lay on the ground. She had to get it and tried to work out how to sneak beneath their legs and snatch it up.
She still held the length of bone and thought she might be able to use it to hook the weapon.
The next massive impact drew her eyes back to the fight. She felt like she was watching a battle that might have played out at the dawn of time, when two titanic beasts using tooth, claw, and raw fury, tried to tear each other to pieces. And Alex was just as ferocious as the thing he fought.
